Remorse

Chapter 3 ~ Humiliation 101

After leafing through a tattered issue of Potions Today, Snape put it aside and walked back up the stairwell. He didn’t go directly to the bedroom but walked down the hallway and stopped just before the filmy window. A small closet was recessed into the wall and he opened it, taking out several lengths of rope and a riding crop. He closed the closet, walked back up the hall and into the bedroom.

Harry and Hermione were still on the floor shuddering, but they were slowly uncurling. Snape looked down at them unsympathetically, then placed the ropes and crop on the dresser and sat back down on the bed, looking down at the pair.

After about five minutes, they fully straightened, both sets of eyes fluttering open. The horror was still there as they slowly got to their feet. Hermione was almost as pale as Snape, and turned to him, still shuddering.

“My gods,” she whispered as she looked at him. “How have you continued, Professor? How did you survive such constant torment? How do you live with these terrible memories?”

Harry turned to look at him as well, his green eyes wide. Snape had been through such pain . . . such brutality. No wonder he was so dark and untouchable. It seemed as if every instance of human contact in his life involved pain, terrible pain.

Snape gestured to both of them to sit down.

“How did I survive, Miss Granger?” Snape said, his voice taking on a more intense silkiness, Hermione feeling as if it were coiling up and about to spring out in a storm of rage. But it didn’t.

Severus looked from the witch to Harry, and back again . . . his pale face twisting slightly.

“I survived, Miss Granger . . . because I knew there would be moments . . . like . . . this,” he said. “Moments where I could reclaim something that was taken from me. You and Mr. Potter are the first who will give me my due . . . but I assure you . . . you won’t be the last. It is assumed I am here at Spinner’s End hiding from the world . . . bitter, hateful, wanting nothing more than to never see another human being . . . .”

Here Snape let out an ugly little laugh that made the hair on the back of Harry’s neck prickle.

“ . . . but that is not the case,” Snape continued. “There are several human beings that I look forward to seeing again. I have simply been waiting, waiting for you two to appear. You see, I am going to work my way backwards. Your appearance lets me know for certain . . . that it is time to do just that.”

Then Snape gave them a smile, a sort of twisted leering smile that shot icy coldness to their very souls.

“Now, I have considered this for quite some time . . . considered what it is you two have, what you two treasure the most. I have come to believe it is your friendship. The purity of it,” the wizard said, his eyes gleaming. “No matter what, you always have each other. No obstacle is too great, no situation too much to destroy the love and care you have for one another. You are thick as thieves,” Snape said. “You certainly were joined in common purpose when you Crucio’d me almost to the point of madness. I’m surprised I didn’t end up in a cot next to the Longbottoms.”

Both Harry and Hermione looked away from Snape. They had experienced the excruciating pain he suffered, saw themselves as they were that night, both of their faces twisted with hatred and malice, watching him dispassionately as he seizured against the pain. It had been truly horrible. Truly torturous. They had been no better than Voldemort.

Snape stood up and walked over to the dresser, sticking a finger between the dresser and the lowest drawer, prying it open because there was no knob. He took out another small bottle. Both Harry and Hermione looked at it with apprehension. Snape chuckled at the fear on their faces.

“Have no fear, my brave Gryffindors,” he said, walking towards Harry. “I assure you your descent into my pain is finished. This potion is for you, Mr. Potter. It is to . . . prepare you for the first leg of your ‘making it up’ to me. It is painless and will help you handle what it is I want you to do.”

Snape unstoppered the bottle and held it out to Harry.

”Drink it if you would be absolved of your sins concerning me,” the wizard hissed.

Slowly, Harry took the bottle, Hermione staring at him, the expression on her face clearly showing she didn’t want him to drink it. But he had to if they were to ever get past this.

Harry turned up the bottle and drank it all down. Surprisingly, it had a pleasant, minty taste. He looked up at the Potions Master, surprised.

Snape took the bottle from him and smirked slightly.

“Not terrible to the taste, is it Mr. Potter? That is because I intend to use this particular potion myself . . . ” he purred.

Suddenly Harry shifted, and looked down at his loins. He was getting an erection under his robes, but felt no lust or desire. It was purely mechanical.

”It will allow me to perform sexually while remaining . . . detached and aware without the distraction or necessity of lust,” the wizard said. “I will have need of it soon. You are the first who will actually benefit from its properties, however,” Snape said, glancing at Hermione for a moment. “I have decided I would like to witness your friendship with Miss Granger . . . evolve into something more . . . physical.”

Both Harry and Hermione stared at the wizard.

“What?” Hermione exclaimed. “You want what?”

”Your friendship with Mr. Potter is about to become intimate, Miss Granger” the Potions Master said, smiling darkly.

“But . . . but Harry’s gay! He’s not . . . he doesn’t see me that way. I’m a woman. He’s not . . . ” Hermione began, flabbergasted, looking at Harry with wide eyes.

Harry was staring at the Professor, his eyes dark and slightly despairing.

“The bastard,” he thought bitterly.

“Oh but he is capable, Miss Granger. That is why I gave him the potion. His erection will be maintained for quite sometime. The fact that he isn’t aroused mentally is of no consequence. He can and will shag you. I require it.”

Snape looked at Harry, malice in his black eyes.

“Unless you two want to split the rent and utilities with me,” he added with a nasty grin.

Hermione stared at the wizard. Snape’s cruelty went much deeper than she imagined. He wanted to taint their friendship, sully it, make it into something neither of them had ever wanted. They were close . . . like siblings. This would change everything.

“Professor Snape, please don’t do this,” Hermione implored him. “I would rather be subjected to you than to Harry. I’d do anything . . . anything.”

She might have well addressed the paint peeling on the dank bedroom walls for all the effect she had on Snape.

“Ah, the begging begins,” the wizard said. “But your pleas are worthless, Miss Granger, because you will be subjected to me and do what I want when I want it. You have nothing to bargain with . . . nothing that will change my mind. So be quiet about it.”

“Professor, this is wrong . . . ” Harry began.

Snape snapped, his face contorting with open hatred. He was so enraged, spittle flew out of his mouth as he addressed the-wizard-who-lived-at-his-expense.

“Wrong? You call this wrong, Mr. Potter? What you and your ‘friend’ did to me was wrong! What I went through because of you was wrong! This, Mr. Potter, this is not wrong . . . this is justice! Retribution! Payback! Now both of you, take your fucking clothes off! Now!”

Snape sat on the bed, trembling with rage as he stared at the couple. Hermione and Harry stared at him.

“Undress . . . or I will undress you,” the wizard said in a low voice, managing to wrest himself under control again.

From the moment they entered his home, Hermione and Harry saw that Snape could do wandless magic. He had never done so before when they were at Hogwarts. Most likely he kept the ability hidden for his own protection.

Snape might have been able to protect himself the night they captured him, but Harry had struck the wizard with the Cruciatus curse when his back was turned. It was dishonorable, but Harry hadn’t given a fuck about being honorable to the man who killed Albus Dumbledore.

Well, Snape was certainly able to make good on his threat. Rather than be humiliated in such a way, both Harry and Hermione stood up and began to disrobe. Harry looked at Hermione.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” he said to her as he unbuttoned his robes.

”I know, Harry,” she replied, her voice quavering. “At least we can make it quick.”

How touching,” Snape sneered at the undressing couple,”But it will not be quick, Miss Granger, I assure you. Mr. Potter and you will be following my instructions to the letter. I intend to be quite entertained.”

Hermione paled, and didn’t say anything else as she removed her robes. She had on muggle clothing underneath it. Harry wore a white wifebeater and scarlet boxers beneath his robes. His boxers were greatly tented, and he flushed as Hermione’s eyes dropped to them for a moment before she pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing large breasts encased in a simple white bra.

Snape let out a little noise when his eyes fell on Hermione’s breasts. Hermione removed her trainers and socks, then slid her jeans down, stepping out of them. She wore simple white cotton knickers.

The witch’s waist was small, but she was rather hippy with thick thighs. Snape made another noise. He wasn’t beyond reacting to the female body and had a preference for full figures. He would enjoy shagging her.

Snape’s eyes shifted to Harry, who stood looking at him, wearing only his boxers. Harry was tall with a slim, tanned athletic body, presumably from his continual obsession with Quidditch. His abdominal muscles were well-defined and he had the body of a definite boy-toy. Harry started to remove his glasses.

”Leave them on,” Snape hissed. “I want you to clearly see your ‘friend’ when you’re . . . engaged. Now, face each other.”

Harry and Hermione turned toward each other, both of them stiff.

“Oh come now. Relax,” Snape purred. “You’re just going to shag. What’s a little shagging between ‘friends?’”

”Bastard,” Hermione hissed under her breath, but Snape had excellent hearing. He scowled.

”Tut tut, Miss Granger. Not a nice comment. Seems to me you need something to restrict such language from coming out of your mouth. Now, get on your knees!” Snape snarled.

Blinking back tears, Hermione reluctantly obeyed, her face opposite the tent in Harry’s boxers. Harry looked down at her for a moment, then up at the ceiling, closing his eyes. This was terrible. He never wanted this from Hermione.

“You will watch, Mr. Potter!” Snape growled. “You will watch your friend suck you off!”

Harry swallowed, then looked at Snape with hatred, then down at Hermione, his own eyes glistening as she looked up at him.

”Take out his tool, Miss Granger,” Snape directed, his black eyes glittering.

Hermione hooked her hands gently in the elastic of Harry’s boxers and drew them down. Harry was about seven inches long and his member nestled in a curling nest of black hair. It was smooth and pink, the head fluted.

Snape chuckled.

“I’ve seen bigger tools on nifflers, Mr. Potter,” he mocked. “No wonder you’re a bottom. At least you won’t gag the witch.”

Snape himself had a monster of a member, long, thick and strong. Well, they’d both see it soon enough.

Harry did his best to ignore Snape’s goading. The most horrible part about this situation was he felt no desire whatsoever. If there was some lust, some need for Hermione, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so horrible about this. As it stood, the only thing he would feel was humiliation.

“Start sucking, Miss Granger . . . and show some skill,” the Potions Master said.

Hermione’s mouth closed over Harry, who made a noise. There was some feeling now, and he was ashamed of it. Hermione began to bob back and forth slowly, Harry’s cock sliding between her lips. Snape’s eyes rested on Harry’s face, which was contorting.

“She’s your friend, Mr. Potter, but you like her sucking you. What’s that say about the ‘purity’ of your friendship, eh? A warm mouth is a warm mouth, whether attached to a male or female. Suck him harder, Miss Granger!” Snape demanded, enjoying the guilt in Harry’s eyes as he tried not to react to Hermione’s ministrations.

Hermione applied more suction and despite himself, Harry let out a groan.

“Yessss,” Snape breathed. “Gather her hair in your hand, Mr. Potter. Grip it tight!”

Hermione felt Harry’s hands move over her head, gently collecting it in a single mass, then gripping it with one hand as she moved. Despite herself, she was beginning to get aroused. Hermione liked such treatment.

“I’m starting to smell you, Miss Granger. I have a sensitive nose,” Snape said, leaning forward, watching as Harry’s shaft disappeared and reappeared in her mouth. It was covered with her saliva and glistening. “It appears you like having a hot shaft in your mouth. It doesn’t matter whose it is . . . does it?”

Hermione felt herself shudder at the Potions Master’s words, hating that he was turning her on even more. The witch hated this about herself. How she responded to abuse. It was her secret shame. Now Snape was laying it bare.

“Push deeper, Potter! Your attribute is pitifully small but try to gag her anyway. I want to hear some choking!” Snape said, getting excited now.

Harry closed his eyes and thrust forward just as Hermione was sliding downward. His face contorted as he heard her gag.

“I’m sorry Hermione,” he said, not looking down at her, not wanting to see her reaction.

“Do it again!” Snape hissed, looking at Hermione’s reddened face. Harry did so, and this time Hermione gagged and coughed, pulling away from him, a long string of mucous attached to his member.

“Get back there, witch!” Snape snarled at her. “Keep going!”

Hermione looked at Snape a moment, and the wizard was gratified to see the humiliation and shame in her eyes before she returned to Harry.

Snape smiled.

Yes, this was even better than he dreamed it would be.