Low Man Is Due
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
21,758
Reviews:
98
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
21,758
Reviews:
98
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A ritual's due
The bunny for this story is alive and kicking! Two chapters updated today! This one is short, but I couldn\'t make it any longer as it\'s so emotionally draining to write this stuff. The next chapter features Severus\' trial.
Thank you to my reviewers. This should clarify a few things that confused some people...SP
Chapter Six: A ritual’s due
The day of Severus’ trial edged slowly closer.
Alone in his house, Harry knew almost nothing of it, other than what he read in the Prophet. He told himself he cared nothing at all about the trial, about finding out what happened to Snape, yet, each evening he wandered the house for hours, putting off the moment when he would have to go to his bedroom and attempt to sleep.
And fail.
And would then transfigure his room to resemble the room he had spent the majority of his capture in.
His mind just wouldn’t allow him rest. It churned and span as crazy half-formed thoughts passed through it. He’d tried alcohol, but that just gave him a headache to go with the ideas. He’d tried potions, but that just made him think of Snape even more, wondering if the man had made the potion he had bought and drunk. He’d tried screaming his frustration out, but that just gave him a sore throat, and made his eyes well up, but no tears fell.
In the kitchen, entirely alone - he had even ensured there was no chance of house elves bothering him - he tried to focus on cutting some vegetables to make a meal. His mind just couldn’t focus, and the sharp knife sliced squarely across one knuckle.
He drew in a sharp breath. Blood welled over his skin, thick and red. Harry stared at it, green eyes almost entirely black. He sucked on the wound, closing his eyes. He was hard.
His tongue lapped again and again at the cut, until it closed.
Disappointed, he opened his eyes. The skin was pink around the edges of the cut, slightly swollen. The tingle of the remembered cut was still in his mind. The feel of the cold metal as it had touched him. The feeling of arousal, and of being in control, as it had blanked his mind wonderfully.
With a trembling hand he picked up the knife and brought it close to his skin. He hesitated, not sure if he could do this.
He pressed the blade down, and it easily passed through the layers of skin. The cool metal felt like a line of ice along his overheated body. It pressed inside him, the metal warming as his blood surrounded it. The blade was pulled free and Harry could at last look at what he had done. Along the back of his left hand, from his little finger almost to his thumb, a line of blood was showing; some of it dripped free when he clenched his fist. The sting of the wound opening more made his dick twitch. He moaned and tasted his fluid, one hand moving to between his legs to rub roughly at his aching cock.
Eyes closed, he sucked hard at the cut, pulling blood deep into his mouth. Swallowing and sucking yet more down. His right hand continued to stroke his length through his cotton trousers. The waistband slipped, and his hand moved inside the trousers, clutching at the hot hard length. He pumped on himself as he sucked at the blood. Loving the feel of the liquid on his tongue, coating his teeth and oozing thickly down his throat.
He gasped, body tensing, he shouted one word brokenly, and came.
That night, Harry still couldn’t sleep in his room, and transfigured it. He settled almost happily into a corner of it. He was in control. He knew how to cope.
Thank you to my reviewers. This should clarify a few things that confused some people...SP
Chapter Six: A ritual’s due
The day of Severus’ trial edged slowly closer.
Alone in his house, Harry knew almost nothing of it, other than what he read in the Prophet. He told himself he cared nothing at all about the trial, about finding out what happened to Snape, yet, each evening he wandered the house for hours, putting off the moment when he would have to go to his bedroom and attempt to sleep.
And fail.
And would then transfigure his room to resemble the room he had spent the majority of his capture in.
His mind just wouldn’t allow him rest. It churned and span as crazy half-formed thoughts passed through it. He’d tried alcohol, but that just gave him a headache to go with the ideas. He’d tried potions, but that just made him think of Snape even more, wondering if the man had made the potion he had bought and drunk. He’d tried screaming his frustration out, but that just gave him a sore throat, and made his eyes well up, but no tears fell.
In the kitchen, entirely alone - he had even ensured there was no chance of house elves bothering him - he tried to focus on cutting some vegetables to make a meal. His mind just couldn’t focus, and the sharp knife sliced squarely across one knuckle.
He drew in a sharp breath. Blood welled over his skin, thick and red. Harry stared at it, green eyes almost entirely black. He sucked on the wound, closing his eyes. He was hard.
His tongue lapped again and again at the cut, until it closed.
Disappointed, he opened his eyes. The skin was pink around the edges of the cut, slightly swollen. The tingle of the remembered cut was still in his mind. The feel of the cold metal as it had touched him. The feeling of arousal, and of being in control, as it had blanked his mind wonderfully.
With a trembling hand he picked up the knife and brought it close to his skin. He hesitated, not sure if he could do this.
He pressed the blade down, and it easily passed through the layers of skin. The cool metal felt like a line of ice along his overheated body. It pressed inside him, the metal warming as his blood surrounded it. The blade was pulled free and Harry could at last look at what he had done. Along the back of his left hand, from his little finger almost to his thumb, a line of blood was showing; some of it dripped free when he clenched his fist. The sting of the wound opening more made his dick twitch. He moaned and tasted his fluid, one hand moving to between his legs to rub roughly at his aching cock.
Eyes closed, he sucked hard at the cut, pulling blood deep into his mouth. Swallowing and sucking yet more down. His right hand continued to stroke his length through his cotton trousers. The waistband slipped, and his hand moved inside the trousers, clutching at the hot hard length. He pumped on himself as he sucked at the blood. Loving the feel of the liquid on his tongue, coating his teeth and oozing thickly down his throat.
He gasped, body tensing, he shouted one word brokenly, and came.
That night, Harry still couldn’t sleep in his room, and transfigured it. He settled almost happily into a corner of it. He was in control. He knew how to cope.