Low Man Is Due
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
21,746
Reviews:
98
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
21,746
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.
My eyes seek reality
Thank you to my reviewers! Much appreciated, as I'm having a hard time making this dark enough.
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 Three: My eyes seek reality
The next instruction Harry was given sickened him.
“Strip.”
He hesitated, and the window began to glow. “No!” he cried, voice hoarse with his desperation. “I’ll do it!” Anything to not see Ron be hurt again.
Awkwardly, as the collar didn’t allow him to bend, he pulled his clothes off. His trousers came off easily as they were much too big for him, and already mostly destroyed, but he was unsure how he was meant to remove his ripped and dirtied t-shirt. His arms hurt, and his fingers were still not functioning properly. Harry felt panic begin as the older man approached wielding a large silver dagger, and tried, uselessly, to pry the collar apart. He almost sagged with relief when Snape merely sliced the tattered garment from his body. The Death Eater meant him no harm.
He almost laughed at his own thoughts – meant him no harm?
He kept his eyes fixed on the darkened window, refusing to look at his captor. His jaw worked as he considered Ron’s likelihood of surviving more punishment.
The man spoke quietly, but with total authority. “Believe me when I say offering co-operation will be far better than refusing, and being forced to comply.” He clarified, “It will be easier on the Weasley boy, and on you.”
Harry nodded, throat working.
The Death Eater seemed pleased with the boy’s passive acquiescence. “I am glad you have chosen the sensible option.”
Snape wandered over to the far side of the room, returning with a bottle containing a pale fluid. “The Dark Lord was most surprised that you were so easily captured. Still, he is looking forward to you learning your rightful place.” Onyx eyes bored into emerald ones. “You are to be my pleasure slave.”
Harry looked cautious, but also confused.
“Sex, Potter,” Snape snapped, “you’re my sex slave.”
Harry’s denial was immediate and completely expected. “NO! NEVER!”
“Never?” The older man quirked a brow. “You would allow Weasley to undergo what you are unwilling to do?”
Harry’s head dropped partway to his chest, as far as the collar would allow, and a helpless sob broke from him. “No.” He gasped for breath through his cracked ribs and went on, “I – I can’t. Please. Please don’t ask me.”
The ex Potions Master’s face stayed set and merciless. He approached Harry, moving to stand behind his captive. The metal bar the collar was attached to magically extended to allow his thin frame to be between the boy and the wall.
Harry trembled as a thin hand touched his left shoulder, stroking over the pale skin.
“No, please, no.” Harry begged, voice thick with repressed tears.
He gasped in horror as the window glowed. He stretched out one hand towards it. “NO! That’s not what I meant. NO! RON!”
The red head was still collared, but now the three men approached carrying implements. The first held a metal studded whip; the second held a red hot poker, and the third swung an impossibly large phallus in one meaty fist.
Harry felt his ass clench in terror. He imagined the huge black item being forced into Ron’s helpless body.
“Stop it!” He shrieked. “Make it stop!” He pleaded, twisting to get Snape into his view. He fought against the restraining metal, bruising his larynx so that he could barely croak Ron’s name as he was surrounded by his three tormentors.
“Yes.” Harry said, sagging, defeated.
Instantly the window blanked.
Snape tightened his grip on the boy’s shoulder, nails digging painfully into the still sore flesh.
“Remember,” he hissed against Harry’s neck, spittle wetting the boy’s skin, “you gave your consent.”
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 Three: My eyes seek reality
The next instruction Harry was given sickened him.
“Strip.”
He hesitated, and the window began to glow. “No!” he cried, voice hoarse with his desperation. “I’ll do it!” Anything to not see Ron be hurt again.
Awkwardly, as the collar didn’t allow him to bend, he pulled his clothes off. His trousers came off easily as they were much too big for him, and already mostly destroyed, but he was unsure how he was meant to remove his ripped and dirtied t-shirt. His arms hurt, and his fingers were still not functioning properly. Harry felt panic begin as the older man approached wielding a large silver dagger, and tried, uselessly, to pry the collar apart. He almost sagged with relief when Snape merely sliced the tattered garment from his body. The Death Eater meant him no harm.
He almost laughed at his own thoughts – meant him no harm?
He kept his eyes fixed on the darkened window, refusing to look at his captor. His jaw worked as he considered Ron’s likelihood of surviving more punishment.
The man spoke quietly, but with total authority. “Believe me when I say offering co-operation will be far better than refusing, and being forced to comply.” He clarified, “It will be easier on the Weasley boy, and on you.”
Harry nodded, throat working.
The Death Eater seemed pleased with the boy’s passive acquiescence. “I am glad you have chosen the sensible option.”
Snape wandered over to the far side of the room, returning with a bottle containing a pale fluid. “The Dark Lord was most surprised that you were so easily captured. Still, he is looking forward to you learning your rightful place.” Onyx eyes bored into emerald ones. “You are to be my pleasure slave.”
Harry looked cautious, but also confused.
“Sex, Potter,” Snape snapped, “you’re my sex slave.”
Harry’s denial was immediate and completely expected. “NO! NEVER!”
“Never?” The older man quirked a brow. “You would allow Weasley to undergo what you are unwilling to do?”
Harry’s head dropped partway to his chest, as far as the collar would allow, and a helpless sob broke from him. “No.” He gasped for breath through his cracked ribs and went on, “I – I can’t. Please. Please don’t ask me.”
The ex Potions Master’s face stayed set and merciless. He approached Harry, moving to stand behind his captive. The metal bar the collar was attached to magically extended to allow his thin frame to be between the boy and the wall.
Harry trembled as a thin hand touched his left shoulder, stroking over the pale skin.
“No, please, no.” Harry begged, voice thick with repressed tears.
He gasped in horror as the window glowed. He stretched out one hand towards it. “NO! That’s not what I meant. NO! RON!”
The red head was still collared, but now the three men approached carrying implements. The first held a metal studded whip; the second held a red hot poker, and the third swung an impossibly large phallus in one meaty fist.
Harry felt his ass clench in terror. He imagined the huge black item being forced into Ron’s helpless body.
“Stop it!” He shrieked. “Make it stop!” He pleaded, twisting to get Snape into his view. He fought against the restraining metal, bruising his larynx so that he could barely croak Ron’s name as he was surrounded by his three tormentors.
“Yes.” Harry said, sagging, defeated.
Instantly the window blanked.
Snape tightened his grip on the boy’s shoulder, nails digging painfully into the still sore flesh.
“Remember,” he hissed against Harry’s neck, spittle wetting the boy’s skin, “you gave your consent.”