Remorse

Chapter 9 ~ Epilogue

Allen Johnson had just Port Keyed to the docks on a three-day leave from Azkaban. It was rather late in the evening, and the docks were deserted. There was a little pub about a quarter mile north. The guard figured he’d stop in and have a quick Firewhisky before heading home. Allen lived alone and had no one waiting up for him so it didn’t make a difference when he went home.

He walked down the dark path that led to a small cobbled street, the only sound the gentle swish of the waves lapping on the shore. The sky was overcast, which only made it darker.

Suddenly he heard a sound on his left, like something falling. He quickly pulled his wand and turned to face the noise. Just as suddenly, he felt the tip of a wand jammed into his neck from the right.

“Hand over your wand, Mr. Johnson, if you want to keep breathing,” said a silken voice that made the guard’s blood run cold.

“Snape,” he breathed.

“That’s right. Snape . . . or as you knew me . . . your bitch,” Snape said, his voice going even softer as he pulled the guard’s wand out of his hand. “Well Johnson . . . the bitch is back.”

Johnson swallowed.

“Now Snape . . . we didn’t know you didn’t kill Albus Dumbledore,” the wizard began. “You couldn’t blame us for being angry. We thought you had betrayed him.”

”And you thought my being placed in Azkaban wasn’t punishment enough,” Snape said softly. “You thought that you’d take the law into your own hands. What you did to me was illegal, Johnson. You all could have lost your positions and ended up in Azkaban yourselves. You know what the prisoners would have done to you. But I didn’t report any of you. Didn’t you wonder about that? Why I didn’t turn you in when I was absolved?”

Johnson didn’t say anything. Yes, they had all wondered that . . . all been scared to death Snape would reveal his constant rape. But the wizard hadn’t, and eventually they all but forgot about him.

“I didn’t report you because I wanted to take the law into my own hands,” the wizard said, pressing his wand harder into Johnson’s throat. “Or in this case, my revenge into my own hands. You owe me, Johnson . . . you and every single guard that raped me. I intend to get my due from you . . . tonight. You will be the first . . . but not the only. Tonight . . . you’ll be my bitch. Stupefy!”

Johnson fell to the ground and Snape kicked him over with his foot, looking down on the guard.

“For your information, Johnson, Burns’ ten inches has nothing on me, as you’ll soon find out” he hissed, grabbing Johnson’s arm and disapparating.

Johnson was just the first of many who would definitely feel remorse when it came to Severus Snape.

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Several months later, Snape was sitting in his parlor, reading a new issue of Potions Today when there was a knock on his door. He rose and strode over to it, his eyes narrowed.

“Who is it?” he hissed.

At first there was no answer . . . then he heard something.

“Who is it?” he demanded again, prepared to wandlessly blast whoever was out there.

“It’s . . . it’s Hermione Granger,” a small voice said.

The Professor’s eyebrow quirked, and a small smile crossed his face.

“What do you want, Miss Granger? I am very busy,” he said through the door.

”I . . . I just came by to see how you were doing. To see . . . if . . . if you needed anything,” she said shakily, her belly in knots.

Snape suddenly yanked the door open, startling the witch as he quickly stepped in the doorway.

“I think, Miss Granger . . . it is you who needs something,” he said to her, disdain on his face. “Why are you really here?”

“I just wanted to see . . . ” she said, her voice quavering.

“Stop lying!” Snape snapped at her. “You twisted little bitch. You want me to shag you again. That’s the only reason you’re here. You couldn’t give a fuck if I needed anything or not. Get in here!”

Severus yanked Hermione into his home roughly by the arm and pushed her toward the stairwell.

“Go upstairs and wait for me,” he snarled.

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes for a moment then obediently walked up the stairwell and disappeared, Snape looking after her, shaking his head. He picked up his supper dishes, brought them into the kitchen and washed them by hand, drying them and putting them away.

He walked back into the parlor and was about to go upstairs, when there was another knock on the door. The wizard paused, trying to decide whether or not to answer it. He looked up the stairs as the knock sounded again, harder this time.

Snape walked to the door.

“Who is it?” he called, frowning.

“It’s Harry Potter, Professor,” Harry said nervously, his heart pounding as he stood outside the door.

Snape’s eyebrows rose so high with surprise they almost disappeared into his hairline.

“What do you want, Mr. Potter? I am quite busy,” the wizard said.

“I . . . I just wanted to see you . . . to see if you needed anything,” the wizard replied.

Snape shook his head. Gryffindors had no originality. Still he yanked the door open, startling Harry as he stepped into the doorway.

Harry felt himself harden the minute he met the wizard’s dark, narrowed eyes. He swallowed as Snape sneered at him.

“Where’s your friend Miss Granger, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked him silkily.

”I don’t know. At her flat I guess. I haven’t seen her in over a week,” he said.

“I see. I would think you’d want her to accompany you . . . for moral support,” the wizard crooned.

“No. Not this time. This time I wanted to come see you myself. Alone,” Harry said, his voice quavering.

“Well, you’ve seen me, Mr. Potter. Now you can go,” Snape said, stepping back inside and pretending he was going to close the door. Harry pressed on it, holding it open.

“Can . . . can I come in, Professor?” he asked him.

“Why do you want to come in, Mr. Potter? We aren’t friends . . . or even associates,” the wizard purred at him. “You’ve already paid your debt to me. There is nothing further that needs to be done.”

“Oh . . . but . . . but I still feel some residual guilt,” Harry said quickly. “I . . . I still feel as if I owe you . . . something.”

“You do, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked him.

“Yes sir,” Harry said, looking hopeful.

Snape studied him.

“You came here to be shagged, Mr. Potter. Just admit it,” he said, frowning slightly. “You are a very sick young wizard to come back to me after what I did to you.”

Harry hung his head.

“I know,” he said softly. “Yes, that is why I came here. Alone. Hermione wouldn’t have understood. She said she was going to stay away from you and that I should do the same.”

Snape’s eyes flicked to the stairwell and he smirked.

“She said that, did she?” Snape said to Harry, cocking his head.

Harry nodded.

Snape stepped aside.

“Come in, Mr. Potter and go upstairs,” the wizard said, still smirking. “I will be there shortly.”

Harry swallowed, then hurried up the stairwell. Snape walked to the bottom of the stairs and amplified his hearing.

He heard the door open, then two gasps.

“Hermione!”

”Harry!”

”What are you doing here you little slut?”

“Back to get your butt torn again, eh Harry? You sick fuck!”

The sounds of scuffling ensued, little shrieks and howls coming from the bedroom.

“Ow you hellcat!”

”Let go of my hair, you pussy! Fight like a man!”

”Don’t kick me there!”

“Ow! Damn it Harry! Go home! I was here first!”

Laughing, Snape slowly mounted the stairs.

It was going to be one hell of a night.

THE END

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A/N: Urm, not my usual fare. This is a repost with proper chapters rather than the lump posting I did before. I was being lazy and posted this as a loooooong one shot. This is what I consider my darkest story, although not all readers agree. It was meant to be a "head-clearer" when my muse was acting up. Just writing something very, very dark to clear the cobwebs and going into unfamiliar territory. It's pretty awful, but I have to admit it was fun. Thanks for reading.