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Low Man Is Due
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
21,744
Reviews:
98
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
21,744
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.
We’re just the toys in the hands of another…
I forgot to say: This story is dedicated to Jilliane, with thanks for her patience and friendship. SP
WARNING: When I say this is a dark fic, I mean it is a dark fic. Please don’t expect happiness at the end and resolution, as it isn’t going to happen. Bad things are going to happen to good people for no obvious reason – I know the reasons, but it might take a while before you do.
If you find the subject matter disturbing and don’t wish to continue reading, I totally understand, but please don’t review and complain about it – you HAVE been warned. SickPuppy
Chapter Two: We’re just the toys in the hands of another…
Harry sat, numb with shock and fear as the other man explained. Snape’s voice was smooth and controlled, just as it had always been in lessons when he had lectured on the properties of some obscure plant.
“…opposite you, in the next room, is your good friend, Ronald Weasley. Whatever you refuse to do, he will be forced to. And believe me, being offered the choice will hurt less than it being forced.”
Harry’s eyes went automatically to the window in the wall. It glowed slightly with the magic that had created a window in solid rock. For now, it was dark and showed only his own reflection, pale and afraid, but Harry had no doubt that what Snape was saying was true.
“Stand up,” the Death Eater ordered, voice harsh, “move to the wall behind your chair.”
Harry tried to obey, truly he did, but his legs shook and refused to hold his weight. His body was still trying to recover from its earlier rough treatment. This room was much warmer than the passageway, and now, instead of iciness, his feet and hands ached painfully as feeling returned to them. He tried again, slipping from the chair to the floor, and tried to move, but he couldn’t. He slumped uselessly on the floor, eyes fixed appealingly on Snape.
A sneer was Harry’s answer.
The window suddenly lit up from the other side, and Harry watched in horror as Ron was beaten brutally in his wooden chair. Harry cried out in shock and horror as he saw Ron’s body jerk and spasm with each well placed kick or punch. Ron disappeared from view, Harry’s view blocked by the three black robed figures who were surrounding his friend and attacking him. They had cut him loose and were laying into him, their fists thumping into and breaking fragile skin. Ron had stopped moving by the time they literally kicked him across the room to whack into the wall. The boy hit the stone work and slid painfully down, leaving a smear of dark red fluid on the stonework.
On the floor, he could do little more than cower as two Death Eaters surrounded him and began booting his unprotected body, aiming again and again for his stomach and crotch. Ron’s tattered clothing was easily pulled from his bloodied skin, exposing his naked form to their cruelties.
Harry sobbed, chest heaving as Ron threw his head back, clearly screaming when one figure grabbed his shrunken penis and twisted the flaccid length viciously. Ineffectually, he tried to push them away from him, but the unceasing blows gave him no chance. Too many hands and feet were hitting him in too many places for the assaults to be stopped.
Finally, utterly unresisting, Ron’s legs were pried apart, and the three men took turns kicking his balls, their entire strength being sent into each kick. One even stood on the boy’s cock, crushing his pelvis, forcing bone through the punctured skin.
“No!” Harry choked, eyes blurred with helpless tears.
At last, Ron was dragged up to a standing position, and a chain fastened about his neck. His head lolled limply, and when they moved away from him, his entire weight rested on the collar biting into his bloodied throat. His legs hung loosely, and at an odd angle. He gagged and clutched at the metal.
The three figures seemed pleased with their handiwork. They crowded around the boy, finding the rare patched of undamaged skin and jabbing at it with cruel fingers.
Harry stayed staring at the window as it darkened. He strained to see into that room, but the film of tears over his eyes made it impossible. He turned his head to the blurry figure standing across the room. Harry couldn’t speak; what words were there when your best friend had been beaten nearly to death?
“Stand up,” Snape repeated, voice utterly emotionless, even after what he had witnessed, “move over to the wall behind your chair.”
Tears streamed down Harry’s face, but he somehow found the energy to do as ordered. He imagined Ron alone in that room with those three monsters, doing who knew what to him. He closed his eyes, two tears spilling down his cheeks as the metal collar magically fit about his neck, chaining him to the wall, keeping him within Snape’s room. Trapping him.
WARNING: When I say this is a dark fic, I mean it is a dark fic. Please don’t expect happiness at the end and resolution, as it isn’t going to happen. Bad things are going to happen to good people for no obvious reason – I know the reasons, but it might take a while before you do.
If you find the subject matter disturbing and don’t wish to continue reading, I totally understand, but please don’t review and complain about it – you HAVE been warned. SickPuppy
Chapter Two: We’re just the toys in the hands of another…
Harry sat, numb with shock and fear as the other man explained. Snape’s voice was smooth and controlled, just as it had always been in lessons when he had lectured on the properties of some obscure plant.
“…opposite you, in the next room, is your good friend, Ronald Weasley. Whatever you refuse to do, he will be forced to. And believe me, being offered the choice will hurt less than it being forced.”
Harry’s eyes went automatically to the window in the wall. It glowed slightly with the magic that had created a window in solid rock. For now, it was dark and showed only his own reflection, pale and afraid, but Harry had no doubt that what Snape was saying was true.
“Stand up,” the Death Eater ordered, voice harsh, “move to the wall behind your chair.”
Harry tried to obey, truly he did, but his legs shook and refused to hold his weight. His body was still trying to recover from its earlier rough treatment. This room was much warmer than the passageway, and now, instead of iciness, his feet and hands ached painfully as feeling returned to them. He tried again, slipping from the chair to the floor, and tried to move, but he couldn’t. He slumped uselessly on the floor, eyes fixed appealingly on Snape.
A sneer was Harry’s answer.
The window suddenly lit up from the other side, and Harry watched in horror as Ron was beaten brutally in his wooden chair. Harry cried out in shock and horror as he saw Ron’s body jerk and spasm with each well placed kick or punch. Ron disappeared from view, Harry’s view blocked by the three black robed figures who were surrounding his friend and attacking him. They had cut him loose and were laying into him, their fists thumping into and breaking fragile skin. Ron had stopped moving by the time they literally kicked him across the room to whack into the wall. The boy hit the stone work and slid painfully down, leaving a smear of dark red fluid on the stonework.
On the floor, he could do little more than cower as two Death Eaters surrounded him and began booting his unprotected body, aiming again and again for his stomach and crotch. Ron’s tattered clothing was easily pulled from his bloodied skin, exposing his naked form to their cruelties.
Harry sobbed, chest heaving as Ron threw his head back, clearly screaming when one figure grabbed his shrunken penis and twisted the flaccid length viciously. Ineffectually, he tried to push them away from him, but the unceasing blows gave him no chance. Too many hands and feet were hitting him in too many places for the assaults to be stopped.
Finally, utterly unresisting, Ron’s legs were pried apart, and the three men took turns kicking his balls, their entire strength being sent into each kick. One even stood on the boy’s cock, crushing his pelvis, forcing bone through the punctured skin.
“No!” Harry choked, eyes blurred with helpless tears.
At last, Ron was dragged up to a standing position, and a chain fastened about his neck. His head lolled limply, and when they moved away from him, his entire weight rested on the collar biting into his bloodied throat. His legs hung loosely, and at an odd angle. He gagged and clutched at the metal.
The three figures seemed pleased with their handiwork. They crowded around the boy, finding the rare patched of undamaged skin and jabbing at it with cruel fingers.
Harry stayed staring at the window as it darkened. He strained to see into that room, but the film of tears over his eyes made it impossible. He turned his head to the blurry figure standing across the room. Harry couldn’t speak; what words were there when your best friend had been beaten nearly to death?
“Stand up,” Snape repeated, voice utterly emotionless, even after what he had witnessed, “move over to the wall behind your chair.”
Tears streamed down Harry’s face, but he somehow found the energy to do as ordered. He imagined Ron alone in that room with those three monsters, doing who knew what to him. He closed his eyes, two tears spilling down his cheeks as the metal collar magically fit about his neck, chaining him to the wall, keeping him within Snape’s room. Trapping him.