Dark as Pitch

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Draco floated, caught halfway between wakefulness and sleep.

He was aware of warm hands stroking his face and his hair. It felt good. He tried to make a sound, to show some appreciation, but all he managed was a soft moan. “No no, Draco, go back to sleep. Sleep.”

Snape was coaxing something down his throat, pressing his mouth open with a thumb at his lips. Draco blinked dazedly, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, and opened obediently for the spoon.

“There we go,” Snape murmured, “Now stop trying to move, Draco. Just go back to sleep.”

Draco swallowed whatever it was, already feeling his eyelids drooping, and in the next moment he faded out again.

--

When he next awoke it was appeared to be late in the afternoon, judging from the angle of the light that poured through the window. Snape was sitting next to the bed with a tray, and when Draco slowly turned his head to look at him, he stood up.

“Good morning, Draco,” he said. “Here, try to eat something.” The tray contained toast soldiers and a soft-boiled egg, and Draco sat up slowly to receive it on his lap.

“How are you feeling?”

Draco reached first for the glass of pumpkin juice on the side table, taking a small sip. It tasted sharp and clear against his own fogginess. He didn’t feel particularly hungry but knew he should eat, so he picked at the runny egg yolk. In response to Snape’s question, he shrugged.

“You look thin. Have those muggles not been feeding you?”

“They fed us,” said Draco, taking careful bites of soggy toast.

Snape leaned forward to hand him a hot cup of tea. “Draco, were you mistreated? Did anyone hurt you?”

“They didn’t hurt us,” said Draco. There was no way to explain the truth – that even though he had not been beaten or starved, he had been treated like an animal, like a cow. People talked right in front of him as if he were not there. Nobody told him anything.

His eyes burned with tears.

“There, now,” said Snape indulgently, “None of that."

“I heard you were dead,” said Draco dully. “I thought that big snake killed you.”

“Yes, that is the rumor that was spread around,” said Snape, collecting the tea things. "Are you finished with the tray?"

Draco nodded.

“It was a potion of my own invention,” Snape continued, with a touch of pride. “It appeared that I was dead, but I recovered and was treated for my injuries.”

“My father?” Draco managed to ask. “Mother?”

“They fled Europe after the final battle. They’ve been frantic about you. I’ve sent them an owl that you’ve been recovered safely." Snape paused. "We’ve been looking for you a long time, Draco.”

Draco didn’t know how to respond, so he let his head drop listlessly back against the pillow.

“We’re not completely out of the woods yet,” Snape warned. “We’ve got to convince these muggle fools that everything’s above-board here, while we figure out how to smuggle you overseas. If they realize what’s really going on, things could get very unpleasant.”

Draco was unable to respond appropriately to this threat of danger; he was too tired to be frightened. “Is that why …?” He shifted his hips on the bed, which moved the plug still buried in his ass.

“Yes,” said Snape. “There will be monitoring visits, and you’ll be examined. It has to look as though you and I have been - having intercourse. There was no other explanation given my description of the kind of Death Eater I was looking to buy,” he added, apologetically.

Draco shrugged, indifferent. “So we don’t have to … ?”

“No,” said Snape, “it just has to look that way.”

Draco nodded.

“Are you uncomfortable?” asked Snape.

Draco realized he was referring to the plug. “S’fine,” he muttered.

“I'll have to check it,” Snape said. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

Draco shook his head no, aware that this was a humiliating subject but unable to really summon the appropriate shame. He was feeling comfortably numb and didn’t want to think about it too much.

“Then roll onto your side, please” Snape directed. Draco did as he was told, and felt Snape pull down the elastic waist of his pajama bottoms, leaving his backside bare. “Just for a moment,” Snape soothed. Draco felt cautious fingers walking down his crease, tracing over the entrance of his stuffed hole. He squirmed at the sensation.

“A little dry,” Snape concluded. “Hold on.” Draco buried his face in the pillow and kept himself turned away while he listened to Snape rummaging around in the drawer of the bedside table. Then he felt slick, cool gel being gently spread over his asshole.

“That muggle called you Hanover,” said Draco, trying to take his mind off of the situation.

“Yes, that’s my new identity," said Snape. "Only a few strategic individuals know the truth." He gripped the edge of the plug and tugged lightly, and Draco moaned into the pillow at the feeling of his ass tightening around it. Then he muffled his groans as Snape worked the plug carefully in and out, spreading the wetness around.

"This is okay? Not too much?"

Draco managed to nod.

"For the rest of the wizarding world, Severus Snape is someone they will profit by forgetting. And I wouldn’t have been able to buy you as a former deatheater. So I became Hanover, a nobody."

He started to twist the plug in a slow circle.

“Stop.” Draco whined, his voice strained, trying to flinch away.

"You're not stretched," said Snape, stroking Draco's lower back with the hand that was not working inside him.

"Please," gasped Draco, pushing desperately back against the pressure.

Finally Snape released him, and Draco curled up, sobbing. “There, now,” said Snape indulgently, “None of that."

.

Sorry, but due to some very weird fan response, this story has been permanently discontinued.