Daunted Death

It took Harry a while to register the private office he stood in. There was no fire. A black leather couch beside an identical, crooked recliner was barely visible in the darkness. Harry walked to the front of it and pointed his wand at the grate. It took several tries before a flame lit the logs. Suddenly the room was blanketed with menacing shadows. A flicker of fear grazed him, realizing he was in Snape’s personal office. Two rows of shelves lined the circular walls jam packed with old, but not dusty, books. The walls were gray stone, as well as the floor. A beautifully carved wooden desk sat off to the side facing the entrance door, neatly organized with stacks of parchment graded or soon to be so, books, and quills of different kinds. In the back was a small bookcase full of titles Harry recognized not from the library, but from his Muggle school days: Sense and Sensibility, Tale of Two Cities, Julius Caesar, but the most worn book was a hardcover version of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

Curiously frowning, Harry moved forward, knelt on the frigged stone, and pulled it out. It could have easily fallen apart in his hands. The pages were worn and yellow. Nothing was ripped or even bent, just so faded and smoothed it looked a hundred years old at least. Carefully opening it he noticed right away that some pages were written on. Selective sentences were underlined, remarks in a cursive hand were illegibly placed very specifically, and entire passages were circled. Slowly he flipped page after page, reading pieces here and there.
When he got towards the end when Romeo received word of Juliet’s death, a picture slid out. It was of a giggling group of girls looking to be Gryffindors in their fourth year. There were five of them, a bold blond with bright eyes stood in the center, quite obviously the reason for the picture. As Harry scanned the rest of the girls his heart skipped a beat. The very last one on the end was a soft smiling, red haired, green eyed girl that Harry knew, or rather wished he knew. There was nothing shy about Lily’s smile, but rather it was giving the sense that she was gazing at someone she cared for, a smile that welcomed anything she needed to be told no mattered what is was. He sat there on the floor with the ancient book and stared at the photo, trying to imagine what she was doing that day, what she was like then. So many possibilities swirled in his brain he almost forgot what had just happened.

Almost.

“As unlikely as it may seem to you, Harry, Professor Snape has a personal life, and I believe it should remain so,”
Dumbledore’s gentle voice said from the door.

Harry looked down at the picture. He knew he should never have seen any of this and had the indisputable feeling he was trespassing on something deep and meaningful to his teacher. He carefully set it back on the shelf just as it was.

“Sorry, Professor,” he said, rising to his feet, “Is... is he alright?”

Sighing, the old man said, “He will be in a great deal of pain for a few days. Do be on your best behavior. I know you are not nearly as bad as he says, but I also know you are not innocent either.”

Silence spilled over them.

“Can I see him?” asked Harry suddenly, surprising even himself.

After a second Dumbledore gestured for Harry to enter. The bedchamber look exactly like the office in walls and floor. The bed was flanked by ornately carved bedside tables both with a row of books. In the back was a large wardrobe, and on their left was another door Harry guessed led to a bathroom. It was pretty dull, except for the picture that hung above the bed. It was not huge, but it stood out all the same. Done in many shades of gray and extremely dark blues, it was a man seemingly naked with his head tucked down into his pulled-up knees, arms wrapped tight around his legs.

While Harry liked it, he stared more out of avoidance than anything else. A large part of him did not want to see his teacher as naked as the man in the painting.

Harry forced himself to look down. He cringed slightly. Snape’s face was tinged with bruises and spotted closely with scrapes. A little less colorful than before but otherwise his neck looked just the same. His wrists were wrapped and lie beside his head lightly on the fluffy pillow. From what Harry could see just about all of Snape’s chest was bandaged with bruises swelling out at the ends, but it rose and fell with soft, even intervals.

Harry asked without moving his eyes, “Why this, of all things? Isn’t the Cruciatus Curse good enough?”

“Harry, this was not for punishment; it was solely for Voldemort’s pleasure. He likes to be able to break Professor Snape this way.”

“After everything, especially with Sirius, I wanted something really bad to happen to him. I wanted him hurt for being so horrible, but this... I didn’t want this.”

“No,” said Dumbledore softly, “I know you did not. I have felt similar feelings, particularly towards Fudge.”
Harry half smiled.

“Was he in love with that Gryffindor girl? If he was related to any of them I’m assuming the picture wouldn’t be inside Romeo and Juliet.”

“He loved a Gryffindor, yes.”

“Has this happened before?” Harry burst, “Why did I see it?”

“Unfortunately, yes, this has happened several times before. This time something disrupted Voldemort’s concentration on keeping you out.”

“Lucius Malfoy.... He came to tell him something- something that wasn’t important.”

Dumbledore nodded.

“Lucius often keeps track of Professor Snape since he found him once in a state as bad as this before you ripped Voldemort from his body. Lucius thought, and was obviously correct, that it would happen again. Since Voldemort has returned Lucius sends Severus back to Hogwarts knowing I will heal him.

“Harry, Severus is a proud man, which is exactly what causes him this, so I must ask you to tell no one.”

“Of course not, Professor.”

~

Pulsing pain, fire searing through muscles, a metallic drum in his head.

Snape forced his eyes open immediately. Thankfully his chamber was dark. He closed his eyes.

Not again!

A groan of frustration and humiliation left him.

“Professor Head said Dot should tells when the Professor wakes from his potion explosion,” a tiny house-elf squeaked and vanished in a crack!

He laid there for a few minutes. Finally he forced himself up on his elbows to start with. Pain rumbled down his back and stomach and lower to his very swollen, torn opening and mutilated genitals. He pushed past the pain and made it to a full sitting position for a second, gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes, stinging his face, before leaning over to one side to keep the weight off his backside.

“You really should just sit and heal,” Dumbledore’s voice said from the door.

“Water,” Severus gasped.

Knowing full well what had much more than likely been forced in the man’s mouth, Dumbledore immediately conjured two glasses and filled one. He swiftly went to the bedside and handed the water one over than switched so Severus could spit into the other one. After a couple times Dumbledore drew a fresh glass of water, and Snape drained it.

“Lie down and rest.”

“No, I have to teach.”

“Minerva has taken over your classes.”

“I have to follow Potter.”

“He is asleep in Gryffindor Tower.”

Snape gave him a quizzical look. Dumbledore pushed him back down to the mattress. Severus wanted to fight, but the pain was much too much. Once he was settled, Dumbledore sat on the edge of the bed.

“Harry saw last night.”

Slightly open mouthed, Severus stared at him.

“To what extent?”

“When Voldemort returned from Lucius up until he--finished. That was what awoke Harry. He was terrified. He came
to find me and was insistent on helping get you back in and seeing you after I healed most of your injuries. He swore not to tell anyone.”

“I cannot get any worse than Potter knowing.”

“Oh, I daresay it can. Harry is a much better person than you care to realize.”

Snape groaned, putting his hands on his face. He could not express how frustrating and humiliating it was to have that Potter boy know--see--him... that way. He was completely appalled. How was he supposed to face the boy now?
“Do not slip in your punishments. They are crucial for Draco to see, remember.”

“Can’t I just ignore him?” Snape asked.

“No, you must keep normalcy.”

Long minutes followed, in which Severus decided not to think about Potter.

“How bad was it?” he asked.

“The same as always, only the chosen toy was much harsher than usual.”

“I could have told you that.”

“Harry said the worst, and scariest, part about about all of it was you crying and... pleading. He thought that was normal, but I know differently. You have never asked him to stop before.”

Severus stared at the ceiling, his fingers linked, resting on his forehead. Finally he spoke.

“He said it was a shame she was dead. He said he’d have liked to tie her up too.” He closed his eyes and covered them as tears squeezed their way to escape. “He said instead he was going to ravage her corpse and then make me do it.”

Dumbledore could do nothing but leave Severus to cry himself asleep.

~

Harry watched his professor march into the class room and up to his desk quite normally. Scrutinizing his teacher’s behavior, Harry was careful not to let the other man see him. Snape’s movements were stiff but so slightly that only someone intently looking for them would notice.

He was not his usual self at all. He ignored Harry completely and even forgot to be horrible to Neville when his skell-grow potion erupted over half the class. He simply said to clean it up.

Harry could see Hermione’s brain working with the abnormalities. Harry didn’t want her asking him if he knew anything, so he busied himself with the impossible potion. Ron didn’t seem to notice anything at all.

Class was over and, without looking up, all Snape said was ‘Dismissed.’ The others bustled out of class in no time, but Harry purposely hung back.

“You guys go without me,” he said softly, “I have to talk to Snape.”

His friends nodded, thinking it had something to do with Occlumency lessons, and left without a word.
Leaving his bag on the table, Harry walked hesitantly up to his teacher.

“Stop,” Snape commanded quietly, which somehow made him even more frightening.
Harry froze.

Snape continued, “I have no need for anything you have to say. Leave.”

“Sir--”

“Leave.”

Harry took a deep breath, grabbed his bag, and left.

When the sound of the dungeon door closing reached his ears, Severus dropped his quill and heavily rested his face in his hands. He took a slow deep breath that tore at his chest. No one was watching so he was free to lean forward off his butt to settle on the backs of his knees, which still stung. Walking around the classroom was so incredibly painful, he thought if he opened his mouth he would certainly scream. Dumbledore was going to berate him for not tormenting Potter, especially after they were alone together, but Severus just couldn’t bring himself to hear what Potter had to say, didn’t want to think the boy pitied him. Part of Severus still couldn’t fully comprehend the boy knew what his blood tasted of, what all the bare flesh and Voldemort's erection felt like, not to mention being inside of him. Severus suppressed a shiver. Severus Snape did not shiver (and it would probably hurt like hell).

All he was feeling--the searing, unceasing agony, the humiliation and awkwardness--he knew he deserved every bit.