Nights of Gethsemane

[[Several people have given me constructive criticism on slowness/boringness of the earlier chapters. I've actually been looking for someone to go with me through the first parts and have me trim it down and spruce it up a bit. I've done what I've done for very deliberate reasons, but I think I can write it better now that I've had a lot more experience writing and have learned loads of things. I've been courting betas who don't like Snarry because I think it will help me figure out what is necessary to keep in and what can be summarized better. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get anyone yet despite trying for months. Since my choices are either to leave the story until I can find someone with lots of time to help me or post the later chapters which are more adventurous, I've decided to keep posting. :x ]]

Harry dreamt he wrote several letters to Ginny. He asked Snape for Strix so he could send them to her, but Snape refused.

“You lost your old owl,” Snape said. "If I give you mine you will probably lose her too.”

“How can I lose her in my cell?” Harry protested. “It’s not very big.”

“You will find a way. You're always losing things.”

“That’s a lie!” Harry jumped to his feet. “You’re just jealous because Strix likes me more than she likes you!”

“Fine, fine, take the bloody owl.” Snape waved the library door open and Strix flew in.

Harry held out his arm for her and she landed, hooting at him happily. He stroked her soft feathers and gave her owl treats. “You're a good owl, Strix.” She was beautiful, just like Hedwig, and his heart ached as he thought of his now-dead owl. “Stay safe, Strix. The Death Eaters might kill you if they see you delivering my letters.”

She hooted her understanding and lightly nibbled his fingers as Hedwig used to do.

The library door slammed open and Harry awoke to find himself in bed stroking his pillow. He put it to the side, trying to ignore the melancholy feeling in his heart.

“The Dark Lord may not be able to use the Elder Wand to its full effect even if he should find it,” Snape announced as he walked into Harry’s cell and procured breakfast.

“Why not?” Harry asked as he released his pillow and slid out of his bed to join Snape at the table.

“In order to master the Elder Wand, one must defeat its current owner. This leaves three possible scenarios. The true master of the Elder Wand after the Headmaster is either young Malfoy or myself. There is also the possibility that in basically committing suicide, the Headmaster took the mastery of the Elder Wand with him to the grave.”

“Wait.” Harry frowned in confusion. “I understand that and I understand why you’d have the Wand, but why Draco?”

“He used Expelliarmus on the Headmaster.”

“That’s enough to count for a defeat?”

“It might. Some of my sources suggest that disarming the wizard who is currently the master of the Elder Wand may be enough to earn its allegiance, even if that master is not currently in possession of the Wand,” Snape explained.

“That’s easy to fix,” Harry declared. “Call Draco over, Expelliarmus him, and Obliviate that memory. Then you’d be in charge of the Elder Wand.”

Snape stared at him.

“What?” Harry asked, wondering if he had got whipped cream on his face. He rubbed his nose self-consciously.

Snape’s mouth quirked up in an expression that looked remarkably like a smile before he continued, “There is a critical flaw in your plan. We don’t know if anyone has defeated Draco since that night on the Astronomy Tower. I would have to find a way to examine every single conflict in which Draco has been involved since then.”

“Can’t you just use Legilimency?”

“As I’ve told you before Potter, it is not an exact science. There are several techniques I can employ to attempt to bring forth the memories I seek, but all are far from perfect.”

“Not to mention Draco knows how to Occlude, doesn’t he?” Harry asked.

“Yes….” Snape agreed, but the way he said it made Harry suspect Draco wasn’t a true Occlumens either. After several minutes, Snape continued, “I suspect the Dark Lord will arrive tonight. We will have a normal training session in the morning and then you will return to your cage while I brew before he arrives.”

Harry would never look forward to being tortured but he was glad to know he would get to have sex again before long. “What d’you think I should work on today?”

“Dodging in the throne room,” Snape replied as he sent away his empty mug. “You should be able to use the same manoeuvres as in the practice room without hurting yourself. How does your knee feel?”

“It’s perfect.” Harry stretched out his leg and bent it. He doubted he'd even have a bruise.

“I will examine it.” Snape stepped over and Harry turned in his chair and swung his leg out. Snape knelt before him and Harry was reminded of the dream about Ginny where she had knelt between his legs to suck him off. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was too much like the day before and he knew he was going to get hard if Snape touched him any more than necessary.

Snape ran his wand over the bandages and they fell away turning into ash. He lifted Harry’s ankle with his left hand, his right fingers stroking the underside of Harry’s knee as he bent and straightened it. The touch was oddly intimate and Harry felt heat flush his face as his penis came to life. He hid his groin with his hands. If Snape could restrain himself, then so could he.

“No stiffness?” Snape asked, glancing up at Harry, his hands still on Harry’s leg.

“No,” Harry croaked out in a voice much higher than usual. There was stiffness alright, but not in his leg.

Snape stood. “Finish your breakfast and we will have a normal training session.” He returned to his chair and removed a book from his robes.

“Right.” Harry nodded, relieved when Snape finally left him alone. He didn’t want to ask Snape to leave so that he could wank, but he knew if Snape had remained close to him and continued to touch him like that, he would’ve got quite hard. Hee focused on his breakfast to try to calm himself down.

By the time he'd finished brushing his teeth after his meal, he was completely calm. “I’m ready.”

Like usual, training consisted of dodging. Harry dutifully practised, but soon grew bored and caught the next ball that raced towards him.

“Defence Potter, not offence,” Snape insisted without looking up from his book.

“Come on…” Harry tossed the ball to the side. It seemed like all he ever did was eat, sleep, and train. “What are you reading that’s so interesting anyway?”

Snape closed his book. “I’ve been researching the Hallows.”

Harry walked over and sat on the edge of the dais. “What’ve you learned?”

“I do not believe the Headmaster intended for you to become the ‘Master of Death’ as you say. Why exactly, I do not know. Perhaps he feared you would become reliant on the Wand and not do what needs to be done.”

“I don’t understand.” Harry shook his head. “Don’t I need to kill Voldemort? How would having the Wand hurt me?”

Snape was gazing at Harry with an expression he didn’t recognise. “Several reasons. If you were reliant on the wand and the Dark Lord used Expelliarmus on you and possessed it, you might give up hope. You don’t need a wand or magic to defeat him. The less reliant you are on outside sources, the better off you will be.”

“Wait a minute,” Harry interjected. “How am I supposed to defeat Voldemort without either? What's your plan anyway?”

“We’ve discussed this before. I will tell you once I feel it is necessary to do so.”

“Why not now?” Harry asked, hurt by Snape’s dismissal. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you to act in your own self-interest using what little reason you actually possess,” responded Snape waspishly.

“Oh, come on!” Harry angrily protested. “What have I done to give you doubt? You know I'm going to defeat Voldemort. Why wouldn’t I?”

“As usual, you’ve entirely missed my point and only further illustrated why I desire to wait. You are rash and reckless-” Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Snape continued, “you still speak without thinking and continually jump to conclusions entirely devoid of logic.”

"So? I can still fight him!"

"You need to learn to think! To act with reason and logic instead of blind bravado."

Harry scoffed. "And you think I can't?"

"Not nearly enough."

“Then tell me exactly what I’ve done wrong! I’m really trying. I’ve agreed to follow your plans, I allow them to treat me like shit, I work my arse off training… When have I messed up in front of him?”

“You admitted yourself that you almost betrayed our cover in the throne room-”

“I thought they were going to kill Hermione!”

“That doesn’t matter,” said Snape dismissively, shaking his head. “You should have let her die-”

“I couldn’t!”

“This is war, Potter! People die!”

“I can’t watch my friends die and do nothing!” Harry said unapologetically, clenching his fists. If there was a chance he could save them, he would.

“You must!” Snape insisted. “If you had attacked the Dark Lord you would have been subdued and she would've died anyway. All you would’ve achieved was the delay of our plans. When will it ever sink into that thick head of yours? You need to play your part completely and without fail up until the very end.”

Harry stared at his fists. What Snape said made sense in a way, but it felt wrong. What sort of person would he be if he stood by and watched others get killed? “I'm trying. But I just can’t sacrifice my friends.”

“And if you don’t defeat the Dark Lord more of them will die,” said Snape, sounding as if he could not care less about their deaths. “Some lives must be sacrificed. It is the only way.”

“Not my best friends.” Harry desperately shook his head. “There must be a way to save them.”

“You are helpless to save them at this time. The only person you can protect right now is yourself.”

“Then help me!” Harry jumped to his feet. “Help me defeat him right now! I'm ready! Tell me what needs to be done to destroy him and I’ll do it! I’ll do anything I can to keep them alive!" He straightened his back and met Snape's eyes with unwavering conviction. "I don't care if I have to die. I want him dead.”

“Stupid Gryffindor martyr,” Snape sneered. “You aren’t responsible for their lives or their deaths. You must-”

“I'm responsible if I don’t do everything I can to prevent the deaths! I'm responsible if I let him live while others die!”

“Then master your emotions. Look at you. You’ve lost your temper already,” Snape pointed out, sounding smug. “How will you ever be ready unless you learn to control your feelings? Do you want more people to die? Do you enjoy knowing that people are being killed because you are undisciplined? If you don’t learn to play your part perfectly, more people will die and their deaths will be your fault.”

Snape’s words were like knives in his chest. “I’m doing everything I can!” Harry gasped for breath. "What more do you want me to do?"

"You need to train-"

"I am training! I'VE BEEN TRAINING!"

Snape arched an eye brow at Harry and stared down at him as if he were a obstinate first year. "Right now, you are acting like a child; whinging because I won't tell you what you want to hear. You need to calm down and-"

“How can I be calm? You… you tell me that if I play my part my friends will die… but if I try to fight him, they'll die too. I won't accept that. I won't let people die because of me.”

“Stop whinging.” Snape’s voice was as cruel as his expression. “You can’t save everybody.”

“You’re heartless!”

“I’m alive!”

“And what costs have you paid to stay that way? You’ve-”

“More than you can ever comprehend, you stupid brat,” Snape snarled.

“YOU KILLED MY PARENTS! Who else was a ‘necessity’?! Who else has died so you can live?!”

“SHUT UP! YOU KNOW NOTHING!” Snape yelled as he leapt to his feet so fast his book fell to the floor with a loud crack.

“AND FOR WHAT? TO BE VOLDEMORT'S BITCH? A FUCKING LAP DOG?”

"YOU LITTLE-"

“EVERYONE HATES YOU!" screamed Harry. "EVEN THE DEATH EATERS HATE YOU!"

“THIS IS WAR! YOU IMBECILIC-”

“I HOPE HE KILLS YOU! I HOPE YOU DIE! YOU DESERVE TO DIE ALONE WITHOUT ANY-!”

Snape practically flew off the dais at Harry. Harry held his ground, raising his fists. Snape struck first, his fist flying through the air towards Harry’s jaw. Harry ducked and punched Snape in the stomach, his fist disappearing into the black folds of Snape’s robes. He punched again, aiming higher and felt his knuckles connect with the folds of fabric covering Snape’s ribs. Snape struck him in the side of the face, his fist slamming into Harry’s left cheek bone. Harry ignored the pain and aimed another punch at Snape’s nose. Snape tried to grab Harry’s wrist, but Harry quickly pulled back and kicked him in the shin. Again, Harry slammed his foot into Snape’s leg and was about to land another punch when a cuff suddenly appeared around Harry's ankle and he was bound to the floor, his kick aborted half way. Caught off balance, he fell, barely managing to land without hurting himself. Snape pounced on him, trying to catch his cuffs while Harry rained blows upon him.

“YOU BASTARD! FIGHT ME WITHOUT MAGIC!” Harry yanked his arm from Snape's grasp and smashed hard into Snape's face. He felt bone break as his fist connected with the large nose, making a loud and satisfying crunch. With a growl, Snape grabbed Harry’s hair and slammed the back of his head into the floor. Blinding pain shot through Harry’s skull and he couldn't see for several seconds. It was long enough for Snape to grab Harry’s flailing hands and force them above his head, pinning them down with magic. Harry jerked his hips, throwing Snape off to the side and then lashing out his foot, kicking Snape in his broken nose. Blood spurted down Snape's chest as he fell back, clutching his nose.

Harry yanked at the bonds binding him, trying to get into an attack position. “YOU'RE DEAD!!”

Snape lunged forward, closed his hands around Harry’s neck, and squeezed hard. Harry arched his back; his breath cut off. Snape’s face, red and distorted in rage, barely looked human. For the first time in weeks, Harry feared him.

“I should let you die, you worthless brat,” Snape snarled, giving Harry’s neck a squeeze so hard, he was afraid it would snap. “I don’t know why I bother trying. I should have followed his plans, but no, I wanted to keep you alive. What a mistake that was; you aren’t worth it.”

Blood pounded in Harry’s head and his vision swam. He closed his eyes and let his body go limp. He could only hope Voldemort would arrive soon.

“Give me one good reason why I should keep you alive,” Snape growled, his grip still tight around Harry's throat. “Tell me why I should let you live.”

Harry tried to speak but Snape's fingers blocked his air.

Snape instantly removed his hands from Harry’s windpipe and released him, rolling off to the side. Harry turned his head away, gagging and gasping for air, his neck aching from the tight grasp Snape had held on it. He heard Snape breathing harshly next to him. A potion floated over to him and landed on the floor near his face.

“A painkiller. Take it,” Snape spit out before he released Harry's hands from the spell pinning them against the floor. Harry heard his footsteps retreating and then the door slammed shut.

With shaking fingers, Harry uncorked the vial and took a large gulp. Now with the adrenaline wearing off, his whole body ached, especially his knuckles which were bruised and torn. He carefully sat up, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his head. He felt something warm drip down onto his thighs and he looked down to see drops of blood. He touched his face and wiped away blood from the side of his mouth where Snape had punched him.

Harry was livid. He wanted to rip the chain out of the floor and chase after Snape; give him the beating he deserved. Harry grabbed the chain binding his ankle to the floor and tugged and pulled with all his might. He struggled until he had completely exhausted himself; finally falling back against the floor, panting for breath.

The door opened and Snape walked back in, his footsteps calmer and less hurried. “I will need to put this potion on your injuries to prevent bruising. Where are you hurt?”

“My neck, my cheek, my knuckles, and the back of my head,” Harry answered, avoiding Snape's eyes. He seethed with anger at Snape but if he got into another fight with him, they’d just end up hurting each other again. As much as he hated Snape at the moment, he didn’t want him replaced with another prison guard.

Snape knelt and began to rub the potion into Harry’s neck, his fingers tender again. When he turned Harry’s face to heal his cheek, Harry saw that he had already healed his own injuries or hid them behind glamours. Snape remained silent until he began to rub the potion into Harry’s knuckles. “I have done and will continue to do many things which I personally find reprehensible. If hating me eases your grief then by all means continue. However, you must put aside your anger for me.” He stood. “The Dark Lord is your enemy. Focus your hate on him.”

“Then stop attacking me!”

“And allow you to hurl childish insults and accusations at me with no retaliation?” Snape glared at him. “I have ignored some of your egregious behaviour for the sake of unity, but there are limits to my leniency.”

“I said nothing but the truth,” Harry began. When he saw Snape’s eyebrows dart in together in an expression of extreme displeasure he quickly added, “Okay, the friend stuff was just me being mad, but you were responsible for the death of my parents. Don’t-”

Snape’s expression smoothed back into its normal neutrality. “I am.”

It startled Harry to hear him say it. He always assumed that hearing Snape admit his responsibility for the death of his parents would make him even angrier with Snape, but for some reason it had the opposite effect. He was surprised to find much of the anger he held for Snape concerning his parents start to drain away. He became more concerned with the need to know. “Why?”

Snape gazed at Harry, his face still neutral. “I did not know that... your mother was pregnant when I informed the Dark Lord of what I had overheard. I cannot deny that I … wished your father dead.… If I happened across him while on an assignment with the Death Eaters, I most likely would have killed him even if he hadn’t been in the Order. I’ve never mourned James’s death. It was a coincidence … a twist of fate, that I overheard the prophecy which was later interpreted to refer to you and your parents.”

‘I didn’t intend to kill your parents, but I probably would’ve' wasn’t much of an apology, but Harry knew it was the only apology he was ever going to get from a black-hearted snake like Snape. They silently regarded each other for a moment, Harry glaring and Snape watching without apparent emotion. After a few seconds, Snape took out his wand and removed Harry’s chains with a wave. “You must return to your cage before the Dark Lord arrives.”

Harry stood and walked back down to his cell, Snape following behind him. Suddenly Snape began walking faster, brushing past Harry into the cell to spell lunch on the table.

“You will have to bathe in the sink, they have arrived early.” Snape stepped back past the bars and closed them behind Harry. “They will probably not ask to see you right away, but eat quickly,” Snape said as he strode off rapidly. Harry looked over his lunch. He'd been given a thick beef stew, two rolls, and an apple. He hid the rolls and apple in his blankets and ate the stew as quickly as he could.

The Death Eaters hadn't come for him by the time he finished his meal, so he took a bath in the sink, being careful to avoid the parts of his body where he was injured. Snape was such a bastard. Harry had the distinct impression that Snape was trying to provoke him to anger. If it was a form of training, it was such an arsehole thing to do. He didn’t need to be trained every waking moment. Snape knew Harry didn't have any reasons to control his emotions when they were together. Besides, Snape lost his temper himself when he attacked first. Not only that, he cheated when he knew he couldn’t win in a fair fight. Fucking bastard.

Harry looked around his cell. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to try to read or wank with the Death Eaters in the house, which left exercise as the only thing he could do while waiting. He did sit-ups until the painkiller started to wear off and his head ached. He wasn’t sure if Voldemort would care if he hurt when Snape wasn't with him, but he didn’t want to risk it. He cleaned himself off in the sink and then lay down on his bed.

With nothing else to do, he imagined what trials his best friends were facing in their hunt for the Horcrux. Once more, he wished he'd devised a secret method of communication between himself, Ron and Hermione so that he could help them with their progress. Maybe Snape could make another pair of mirrors and find a way to slip one to them. He was far too clever to not find a way to contact Ron and Hermione if that was what he needed. Snape was being overly paranoid to refuse to include them in his planning. Harry's friends wouldn’t betray him or Snape, no matter what was done to them.

Snape stepped through the library door. "Your presence is required."

Harry nodded and walked over to him, trying to read his face for any sign of what was to come, but it was as neutral as ever.

“On your knees, you will crawl up.”

Harry dropped to his hands and knees and crawled beside Snape as they made their way through the library. He was far more curious than nervous or frightened about what was going to happen this evening. He had the feeling the torture would lessen now that they thought they'd broken him. Snape conjured the leather collar and leash at the top of the stairs and led Harry to the practice room, Harry crawling along after him.

Even with his head down and his eyes on the carpet, Harry could tell the room was full of Death Eaters. They were apparently having some sort of Death Eater party. To his disappointment, Muffliato hit his ears. Why didn’t Snape let him listen? Was it because Snape still regarded him as too reckless and rash? Two Death Eaters approached Snape and he stopped to talk with them. Harry sat on his heels and very carefully looked around the room as best he could without raising his head. The room had been cleared of all furniture except for the kitchen table which rested in the middle. He couldn’t see above the chairs without raising his head, but all the chairs had covers on them and now looked quite comfortable. The vast majority of the people in the room were dressed in black, making it difficult to distinguish between individuals and the number present. Based on the number of chairs he could see, he guessed about eighteen people would be dining tonight.

After several minutes, everyone in the room turned towards the direction of the door. Voldemort must’ve arrived if he wasn't there already. Harry snuck an upward glance to the side and saw a blond Death Eater he'd never seen before raising his glass in a toast. What were they celebrating? Voldemort’s supposed control over Harry? Harry shifted his eyes back to Snape’s boots. After far too many minutes, everyone approached the table. Snape tugged tightly on the leash and Harry crawled after him. The Potions Master took his place on Voldemort’s right and Harry knelt before Voldemort before he positioned himself between them with his head down and his hands folded in his lap. He hoped he wouldn’t be forced to sit through the whole dinner. That might be even more torturous than being whipped, especially if it continued on for hours.

Unfortunately, Harry’s luck deserted him. The smell of food filled the air and Harry knew he’d be stuck through dinner. The lunch had been small and the scent of the food was intoxicating. He shifted slightly, hoping his stomach wouldn't growl. Snape sensed Harry’s hunger and lowered his hand, offering some meat to him. It filled Harry with revulsion to be fed like a dog, but he knew he wouldn’t get food any other way and he needed to convince Voldemort he was the perfect slave. Harry accepted the food which was some sort of poultry he didn’t recognise. Snape fed him several more pieces of meat along with some bread soaked in a thick gravy. After giving Harry a decent amount, he ran his fingers through Harry’s hair the way someone might stroke a pet dog. He then turned back to the table, ignoring Harry once more.


Harry sighed inwardly. He hoped he wouldn’t be forced through more of these; he was already bored out of his skull. After what seemed like forever, Snape stood and led Harry away from the table. The Death Eaters mingled in the room and various individuals approached Snape, conversing with him at length. Harry gave up on trying to tell them apart when a familiar scent filled his nostrils and he noticed two new individuals walking toward Snape. One wore femininely cut black robes and the other wore scuffed boots that stuck out when he paused before Harry. The feminine one stepped closer to Snape and Harry instantly recognised who she was – Narcissa. The Death Eater accompanying her must be Draco. Harry’s face burned as he thought of what he must look like to Draco. He kept his eyes on the boots, not wanting to raise his face and see a superior look on Draco’s haughty features. Harry wanted them to leave, but they stayed and spoke to Snape for far too long. Finally, another Death Eater arrived and they left Snape, walking towards the door that led out of the practice room and into the hallway connected to the outside. Where were they going? Harry tried to watch them as discretely as possible, but Death Eaters kept getting in the way.

Snape tugged on Harry’s leash and he reluctantly turned and followed the Potions Master, they walked with the other Death Eaters to the throne room. Snape paused before the throne in which the Dark Lord rested and Harry bowed low to the floor in front of Voldemort. Three Death Eaters approached on Harry’s right, one standing very close to Harry. After several minutes, he felt a sharp tug on his leash away from Snape. Harry crawled towards the direction he was being pulled, but his new master was impatient and tugged upward with such force, Harry was forced to his feet. He stumbled forward, glancing up to see a Death Eater who looked barely older than himself. The young Death Eater had brown hair, dark eyes, and would have been handsome were it not for a long scar that ran down his left cheek from below the eye to right above his lip. He had a twisted grin on his face as he pulled Harry closer, saying something Harry couldn’t understand, even though the Muffliato was wearing off.

Harry dropped his eyes and carefully constructed his walls. He guessed it was time for the actual torture. The young Death Eater grabbed his chin and forced his head up. Harry tried to keep his gaze as submissive as possible, looking at the Death Eater’s mouth instead of his eyes. He knew his eyes were what usually gave him away. The Death Eater released Harry’s chin and turned him around. He shoved Harry’s shoulders down, pushing him to his knees. A boot on his back forced him to the floor in a kneeling position and he folded his arms in his customary gesture of submission.

He caught a few words as the spell finally left him, “…bow before ya, ain’t it?” If they wanted him to bow before them, he would.

Someone grabbed his hair and forced him to lift his head. A brutish-looking blond knelt down beside him. “He’s been trained to be a good little pet."

Harry focused on the marble.

“I’ve heard he sucks Snape’s cock every day,” said the one with the leash, pulling on it lightly as he talked. Harry clamped down on his anger and humiliation and gazed passively at the floor.

“Is that so?” The blond Death Eater pressed his thumb against Harry’s lips, parting them slightly. “Open your mouth for me.”

Harry opened his mouth and the Death Eater stuck his thumb inside. Harry resisted the urge to bite down on the invading digit. The Death Eater pulled it out and released Harry’s hair before standing up. “I bet he’s got quite good at it,” he said derisively.

The boot disappeared from his back and the Death Eater who'd been pressing Harry down walked to stand in front of him. “On your knees,” he commanded, tugging on the leash to pull Harry upward. The Death Eater stepped in close, holding the leash tightly with his right hand as he unzipped himself. “Let’s see what Snape’s taught you,” he growled.

Harry was revolted at what he was being ordered to do. He'd hoped with Avery out of the way, he wouldn’t have to worry about being raped again. The idea of being sexual with any Death Eater other than Snape disgusted him, and he was particularly repulsed because he was being forced to suck cock. It wasn't that he didn't want to give head, he was actually a bit curious about it. He was willing to try it on Snape, but not on some random Death Eater and certainly not to please Voldemort. The few choices remaining to him were slowly being taken away and he hated it. Being raped by Voldemort's followers was not what Harry had in mind when he agreed to go along with Snape's plan. He put up with the torture and degradation hoping to keep his friends safe, along with the chance to train in order to kill Voldemort, but he hadn't agreed to a possible future of endless rapes.

For a moment, he considered refusing to obey the command so he would be physically tortured instead, but he remembered what Snape told him about needing to maintain their charade. No matter what Snape said, Harry knew he was capable of being mature and in control of his emotions if he set his mind to it. He would prove to Snape that he wasn't reckless and hot-headed. Whatever form of torture Voldemort and his followers threw at him, he would passively take it like Snape wanted. If giving the Death Eater head was what it took to demonstrate he had discipline and self-control, then he would allow them to humiliate and use him. Harry buried his abhorrence and forced himself to remain submissive.

The Death Eater pulled out his penis which was still hardening. He grabbed the back of Harry’s head and shoved Harry's face towards his crotch. “Suck my dick."

Even though the Death Eater wasn’t very big, Harry knew he’d choke if he let the Death Eater thrust the full length of his cock into his mouth. He lifted up his hands and curled them around the shaft as he used his tongue on the head as Snape had done to him. It tasted just as disgustingly bitter as it smelled and Harry almost gagged. He pushed away his revulsion and began to try to bring the Death Eater to orgasm. Harry was determined to have as much control over what he was being made to do as he possibly could and he figured the quicker he got the Death Eater off, the quicker he would be returned to his cell.

“He knows how to suck cock,” the Death Eater sneered appreciatively.

“What a slut,” the third one said with a bark of laughter.

Harry worked at tuning them out as he closed his eyes and bobbed his head mechanically. He tried to use every single technique Snape performed on him and what he remembered from reading the books.

Apparently his memory was good, because the Death Eater was soon fully hard. The Death Eater was about the same length as Harry but only half as thick. Harry focused on the fact that he was more of a man than his rapist to distract himself from the vile task he had before him.

The Death Eaters were calling him names and talking as if he were the one that initiated the blow job and was enjoying it. Harry continued to ignore them as best as he could, he just wanted to get through the ordeal and return to his cell as soon as possible. He quickly became proficient at handling the small amount of cock he took into his mouth so when he relaxed his hands in a moment of lowered guard, the Death Eater thrust more of his prick down Harry's throat causing him to gag and throw up. Harry quickly pulled back and swallowed the vomit down with a struggle. He wasn’t sure how they’d punish him if he puked on them, but he didn’t want to find out. Harry returned his hands to the Death Eater's cock and did everything he could to try to get him to come.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before the Death Eater knocked Harry’s hands away and gripped his cock tightly in his fist. Harry sat back and closed his mouth, relieved that this would finally be over.

“Open your mouth, you whore!” the Death Eater commanded as he grabbed the side of Harry’s throat, using his thumb to keep Harry’s chin up.

Harry closed his eyes and opened his mouth just in time to feel the warm come spatter across his face and into his mouth. It tasted as disgusting as one of Snape’s most vile potions, but he forced himself to keep his mouth open until the Death Eater’s ragged breaths stopped. Harry swallowed the spunk down as best he could, feeling sick and degraded. He was beginning to shake and he wanted to puke all over the floor, but he held it in, swallowing hard as he tried to calm himself down.

“Just what I needed,” the Death Eater sighed.

“My turn,” said the blond.

“I want to fuck him,” the third said.

The blond grabbed the leash and yanked Harry over to him. “Fine, do it while he sucks my dick.”

“I’ll be taking him now,” Snape said firmly as he stepped over and snatched the leash from the blond’s hand.

"We weren’t finished!” the blond protested.

“The Dark Lord has given me permission. If you have a problem with his decisions, perhaps you should take it up with him."

The Death Eaters grumbled to themselves but walked off. Harry was relieved to watch them go. He hated it when they used him sexually, but if he was to be raped, he would much rather it be done by Snape. He shifted to kneel before Snape, waiting for him to unbutton himself.

“On your hands and knees,” Snape ordered.

Harry quickly turned around and positioned himself with his legs shoulder width apart and his arse up in the air. He was glad that Snape wasn’t going to make him give him head. At least he didn’t have to do anything except let Snape rape him.

A line of fire shot across his buttocks and Harry gasped out loud in pain and surprise. A second joined the first and he stifled his cry. The memories of Snape's previous painful whippings had almost been forgot until the first tearing strike cut into his skin. Harry discretely closed his legs as the lash continued to fall across his naked body. The last thing he wanted was to be struck across his genitals. When the lash finally tore across Harry's upper thighs, his screams were ripped from his lungs. SHarry's keening howls of pain echoed throughout the throne room. Soon, Harry's entire back, from his shoulders to his knees, was searing white-hot with pain. His limbs shook from the excruciating torture and he could barely hold himself upright.

Snape finally stepped away from Harry and tugged on his leash to direct him back towards the throne. Harry crawled stiffly after him, pain shooting through his tortured body as he focused on putting one foot and hand before the other. He barely managed a bow before Voldemort.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Snape said as he bowed before the Dark Lord. “I will return him to his cage now.” He turned and led Harry away from the dais. Harry could hardly crawl after him, he was in such horrendous pain. Snape vanished the collar and leash once the door to the throne room closed behind them, allowing Harry to get to his feet as it hurt too much to continue to crawl.

Snape did not carry Harry to his cage this time but walked silently behind him. As soon as Harry made it to the hallway he collapsed, the violent shaking of his limbs making him unable to keep walking or standing on his own two feet. A tremendous shock of pain coursed through him as he hit the hard, tiled floor, nearly causing him to black out.

Snape removed a green vial from his robes. “Take this.”

“What is it?” Harry asked as he uncorked it.

“A painkiller.”

“Different bottle,” he commented, taking a large swig. He re-corked it and handed it back to Snape whose face still wore the same cold, cruel mask he used in the throne room. “I think the dinner party was the worst torture yet,” Harry joked, trying to relieve the tension.

Harry was hoping for a smile, but Snape did not appreciate his sense of humour. The Potions Master's expression darkened, his eyebrows drawing together in a line thicker than Harry had ever seen them. Snape tucked the bottle back into his robes, watching silently as Harry carefully crawled back into his cell. He closed the bars with a flick of his wand and walked off without a word.

Harry waited for the painkiller to kick in before he gingerly made his way over to the sink. He gargled and brushed his teeth using the entire bottle of mouthwash to erase all lingering taste of the Death Eater that had raped him.

Feeling rather proud of himself, Harry lay carefully down on his bed, waiting for Snape to return. Snape had to have seen how well he performed and Harry couldn’t wait to ask him if he still thought Harry to be temperamental. Snape couldn't say Harry was rash or reckless after the way he controlled his actions and reactions the entire night. He wanted to see Snape passively allow a Death Eater to fuck his mouth or go through half of what he'd been through in this prison and still call him undisciplined.

Since Harry proved he could completely control himself, the only way the Death Eaters could get to him was by attacking his friends and they were safe as long as they kept their heads. If letting the Death Eaters hurt him also kept Ron and Hermione safe, he would let them do that, at least for the time being.

His thoughts turned to the Death Eater who forced him to give head. As his mind relived what he was forced to do in the throne room, his anger flared up so hot and powerful that he shook violently with rage. An intense burning, prickly feeling arose behind his eyes and for a moment, he had a very satisfying fantasy of cutting off the bastard’s dick and forcing him to eat it. He wanted to slam his fist through a wall. Instead, he worked at suppressing his anger; pushing down his fury until he could no longer feel it. He wasn’t going to give any of them the satisfaction of a reaction, even when he wasn’t in their presence. Later, he'd take his revenge when he’d make them kill each other. If they wouldn't kill each other, he'd kill them himself.

Harry wanted to speak to Snape that evening, but he suddenly felt exhausted and knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer. He suspected the vial with the painkiller Snape gave him to drink must've contained a sleeping potion as well. It disappointed him, as any questions on how the night had gone would have to wait until tomorrow. Harry sighed wearily and slid gratefully under the sheets, falling asleep almost instantly.