Sinful Payment

AN: Yeah. This fic is non-consensual, meaning that it\'s forced sexual content. Don\'t like rape? Then avoid at all costs.


Snape’s office was dark. Not just an ordinary darkness permeated it. It was the kind of darkness that scares you, even though you’re not afraid of the dark. It was the kind of darkness that hung in the air on nights when bad things were going to happen. This kind of darkness makes you feel cold all the way to the bone. The only light in the office was from two candles that sat still on Professor Snape’s desk. They glowed iridescently, rings of light piercing the black, malicious darkness that filled the air.

And Harry was standing right in it.

The depressing weight of the darkness pressed down upon his shoulders. He felt his feet sinking into the floor where he stood. Looking beyond him, between the glaring, orange candle-light, was a faint image of Snape. Within the illumination, he seemed more villainous than normal. His deep black eyes were locked with his own. Harry, remembering Snape to be a very accomplished Legilimens, tried to think of nothing as he stared down Snape. They made no movement. The candles flickered. Finally, Harry became fed up with the silence. The sooner his time was finished with Snape, the better.

“Tell me why I’m here, Professor.” Anger could be heard in his voice. His shoes sunk deeper into the floor. A smirk appeared on Snape’s face; his eyes became snake-like and malevolent.

“You think you’re so great, don’t you, Potter?” Snape hissed. Harry could’ve sworn he saw a forked tongue roll out of the Professor’s mouth.

“What ever do you mean, sir?” Harry replied, scorning.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Potter. You just push and push until you get all of the attention, don’t you? You pay no concern to the rules. No. You MOCK the rules. Just like your father. ” Snape’s voice was strong and forceful. A pool of anger swirled around Harry’s stomach, just like it always did when anyone talked about his father that way. The boy formed fists at his sides. “He was just a troublemaker. No regard for anyone’s feelings but his own.” Harry clenched his teeth. “A waste of a human being, that’s for sure.” Snape had struck a nerve. Harry’s fury licked at the back of his eyes. He could’ve sworn that his knuckles were white by now. Images of Snape flashed through his mind, and they weren’t pretty. He just wanted to kill him, to put Snape in his place, but Harry knew that even though it was his wish, he would never stoop so low. Still, the anger built up inside him, and he couldn’t let Snape get away with saying such things to him. How dare he? How DARE he?

“Just because my father had a problem with you and showed it, doesn’t mean you can take your anger toward him out on me!” Harry shouted, his feet still sinking into the floor. He closed his eyes, not wanting to look into that snake-like gaze.

“I’m not taking anything out on you.” Harry heard the scratching of a chair moving on the floor. Next were footsteps. They came closer and closer, until Harry could hear breathing. Snape was close. “I found you in the corridors at night. Caught you red-handed, I did. Now, obviously, I am obligated to punish you for breaking a rule. That’s why you’re here, Potter.” He was louder now that he was standing in front of the boy. Harry felt a strong urge to just attack Snape, to hit him. Oh, how he wanted to just hit him, to make him bleed. But of course, that kind of offense would get him expelled at the very least. Well, he figured he could always be like Fred and George and ditch school. It was his 7th year, after all.

Suddenly, the breathing became louder. Harry opened his eyes, only to see that Snape had lowered himself to peer into his face, a smirk tugging at his lips. Exasperated, Harry ran his fingers through his hair nonchalantly.

“Then can I have my punishment and get out of here as soon as possible?” He snapped at the Professor, glaring. The closeness of his not-so-favorite teacher was bothering him. The faster he could get away, the better.

“Ah, just what I was thinking, Potter.” Fire burned in Snape’s black beady eyes. Harry could feel his hot breath on his neck. Suddenly, Snape moved forward, his hand slapping against the door behind Harry, who had backed off into it. He was cornered. “Maybe, this time, Potter, you can think of an adequate punishment for your misdeed.”

“Detention?” Harry knew that Snape would never agree to just one detention. He had experienced first hand that the cold Potions master was accustom to giving out multiple detentions. Snape shook his head slowly and teasingly.

“Ahh, but what is in it for me, Potter? You’ve had your way so many times, slipping past punishments that you so rightly deserved. It’s my turn, Potter. You’re going to give me what I want this time.” Harry was afraid to see what Snape had in store for him, and he wasn’t itching to find out.

“Since when did you ever deserve anything from me?” Harry retorted, glowering as he took a step in the other direction, flames in his eyes. He knew Snape was up to no good, that whatever he was daring to do will hurt him. The candlelight behind the teacher glimmered brighter now, a halo of an orange glow surrounding him; his outline was faint. Sensing a bit of anger licking at his nose, Harry winced as Snape moved closer to his ear, hot breath tickled his skin.

“Ever since you became my student, Potter. Whatever I ask, you are obliged to give without question.” Malice hung heavily in his snake-like hissing. Harry felt a strong hand shove at his chest, his back pressing against the large door. Whatever Snape was going to do, he didn’t like it. The heavy breathing moved away from his ear, but he could still feel the warmth washing over his face. Darkness that had surrounded them prevented Harry from any chance of seeing the man’s face. Suddenly, a wet sensation teased at his lower lip.

Snape was kissing him. The teacher that he had come to loathe so fiercely was actually kissing him. Harry grunted, trying to pull away, but he was stuck between Snape’s lips and the door behind him. It was useless. Savage hands rose to drive off the hungry lips that tasted his own against his will. Cries of disapproval were drowned within the connection, Snape’s fingers digging into his shoulders to keep him still. Carnivorous growls boiled within the older man’s throat.

Harry couldn’t move. He was forced to endure Snape’s starving kiss, reluctant to return it, though he found it very hard not to move his lips while Snape was sucking every inch of his mouth. Fear arose within his chest, and he speechlessly pleaded for help. He wanted someone, anyone to come and find him. He needed to be saved. Who knows how far Snape was going to go. Images of Ron and Hermione flashed in his mind. If only they could miraculously come to his rescue. Please stop, he begged. Please. . .

Sharp cries erupted and Snape bit Harry’s lower lip ferociously, blood spilling from where he nipped. Harry gasped, wincing at the sudden pain. He knew that whatever Snape was planning, he wasn’t going go down with a fight. The fear that had struck multiplied, prickling his skin, and he thrashed against Snape’s body once more. If there was anything that he really wanted right then, it was to kill him. This thought was the only thing that kept him fighting. He wanted to kill Snape. He wanted him to suffer.

Cold air stung his lips and he realized that the man had pulled away. Heat burned into his skin and he could tell that Snape was glaring at him with an angry passion. Harry felt weak. His muscles were taut with exhaustion. Still, he scowled up at the Professor, whose fingertips were still delving deep into his shoulders. Tiny trickles of pain ran down his spine.

“What are you doing!?” Harry snapped, flailing his arms, trying to break free. Before he could defend himself, a stinging ache had prickled at his cheek. Snape had slapped him. An audible whimper rose from him, and Snape attacked once more.

“Why do you dare, Potter, to defy my authority!” His voice was booming and Harry grimaced before him. “You constantly show no regard to authority!”

“Why should I?!” Harry barked, pushing his shoulders forward, but Snape’s grip tightened painfully. “Ouch – you! You’re fowl! You’re corrupt and evil, that’s what! You don’t deserve it!”

“I must say, Potter, you are more feisty than usual tonight.” He tried to conceal the anger that was blazing in his chest. “You need to relax, and I know just the thing,” Harry’s eyes widened. What was he going to do? Force down his throat some sort of potion? Even so, he wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“NO! You can’t make me!” He yelped, jerking his body in a futile attempt to escape.

“You will give what I want, Potter! And your pathetic cries for help won’t do anything, now!” Snape commanded, withdrawing his wand from his dark as night robes. His lips came crashing upon Harry’s in desperate kiss, with protest from Harry himself, and he readied his wand. Pointing it at the base of Harry’s neck, Snape, whose lips were still attacking the other set, inaudibly cast a spell that emitted a soft pale pink light that illuminated the space between their necks for a split second. Harry knew that whatever he was doing was pretty dangerous, and he cried out into the kiss, only to have the sound muffled. Suddenly, a strange but fulfilling feeling came over him, and he let out one distressed grunt before he slipped into a strange feeling of calm.

His feet and his hands began to feel like they were being weighed down by large sacks filled with sand. Eyes drooping, relaxation overcame him, and the fear of what Snape was about to do with him dulled in his mind. Even so, he still knew the sin within the actions. Inside, he pleaded even more than he did before. He tried to think of happy things. His parent’s smiles in the only picture he had of them. Sirius and his desire to protect Harry even though it had killed him. Ron and Hermione, the best friends he thought he would never have. Hogwarts, his only true home. Everything seemed to slow down. The hot breath that tickled his skin became hotter and hotter by the second and he cringed. Even so, he felt sort of forced happiness ignite within his heart. Where it came from, he was clueless. He certainly didn’t feel happy before. Still, he thought that maybe if he held onto the bliss, he wouldn’t feel as bad under Snape’s power.

“The spell I just cast upon you creates a euphoria. You are relaxed, happy, carefree. . . and. . .” Snape had let go of his lips, breathing heavily, “your nerves have been amplified.” Harry heard the rattle of a wand dropped a few feet from the ground. A skinny finger traveled down his creamy neck. He gasped audibly. “Everything you feel will be three times stronger than how you’d normally feel it.”

No, no, Harry thought, please, someone help me. His lips lazily formed the words.

Suddenly, patches of heat erupted on his neck. He panted, his hands moving upward, clutching at Snape’s shoulders. It felt so good, yet sinful, the warmth. Snape’s kisses traveled to both sides of his neck, creating a blanket of blazing fire. A moan escaped the boy’s lips. The Professor moved upward, capturing Harry’s lips in a passionate kiss. It was wet, and even though Harry felt reluctant to return it, the moistness beckoned him further. The spell that Snape had cast had boiled his adrenaline. Movements that he tried to prevent himself to make were made as if he were being controlled, being pushed. He felt Snape’s tongue flicker on his bottom lip and he reluctantly allowed him entry. Their tongues danced and Snape pushed his own further in, exploring every crevice in Harry’s mouth, tasting him. His hands traveled to the boy’s hips that were clothed in jeans and he reached into his t-shirt, caressing the skin that was hidden. Panting, Harry, who was short of quick motion unwillingly allowed Snape to pull away and remove his shirt revealing his creamy, muscular and very naked chest.

Snape licked his lips at the sight of Harry’s bare flesh. He began to trail hot kisses from the bottom of his student’s neck down, down to where jean and skin collided. Fresh incalescence burned upon Harry’s skin, and he rested his hands at his side as Snape worked him. Harry felt amazing, unlike he had ever before but he tried to resist the temptations. Intense pleasure shot up his spine and made his head spin. He could feel his bottom half twitch as a bulge pressed against the fabric of his jeans. It became quite uncomfortable and he bucked his hips forward unwillingly. Oh no, he thought, I do not want this at all! He wished that Snape didn’t notice anything.

But he did.

“My, I can see that we’re enjoying our punishment.” He purred, caressing Harry’s thighs. From Harry’s throat arose a low growl. You wish, Harry mouthed.

The room was spinning. Harry didn’t know which way was up, and Snape removing his jeans was not helping at all. Suddenly, sharp surges of pleasure rushed through every muscle in his body, a loud moan vanishing into the dark. A wet sensation was tickling his manhood. He threw his head back, his panting louder, the occasional throaty groan escaping his kiss-swollen lips. Eyes closed, he buried his fingers in Snape’s jet black hair. Hips grinding into the hot, wet heat, he relished in the wonderful surges of warmth shooting every which way in his body. Harry’s teeth clenched, as he listened to the moist sounds that Snape made on his member. A hot tongue slid on the underbelly of him, leaving another wet trail.

“Aah, Snape!” Harry cried, thrusting his hips into his teacher’s mouth faster. What was he thinking? Harry mentally scolded himself for giving in. Silent pleads kept whispering in his mind. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to be safe in his dormitory, but he was here, being pleasured unwillingly by his least favorite teacher. Distressed, Snape pushed back Harry’s bare hips, his rear colliding with the door. He didn’t want to choke on anything that night, so the bloody ingrate had to stay still or they were both in trouble. The teacher continued to pleasure the student. Growing bored, he began to suck deeply on the boy’s member. A hand that was on Harry’s hip moved to stroke the slippery wet shaft. Harry could feel it coming. An orgasm that he would never be able to recreate was on its way. Not that he wanted it to come. If he came, it would mean that he was enjoying it, and even though he would admit that it felt good, he still wished that he could run away from Snape and have him sacked. “I-I’m coming. . .” he breathed. No, no, no! He had not meant to say that!

Snape pulled away from him, a thread of saliva stretching from his bottom lip to the head of Harry’s manhood. Harry let out a bothered growl and tried to go forward to escape from Snape’s grasp. .

“Stay still, Potter!,” snapped the Potions master. Snape stood up and grasped at Harry’s erection, stroking it lovingly as he kissed the boy’s neck. The heat that was wiped away returned, and Harry’s eyes shut. He was about to orgasm. A small tear rolled down his cheek. He had been defeated. Shame washed over him, synthesizing with the growing pleasure that was striking like lightning in his abdomen.

“Ah! I’m coming!” Harry cried in nonsuccess as his thighs drew in toward Snape. Waves of wonderful, orgasmic pleasure rippled through him, his toes curling in his jean-covered shoes. The heat in his groin echoed throughout every inch of his body as he came. Physical aftershocks licked him in various places on his skin. Finally, the pleasure died down, and he relaxed, his member wet with his ejaculate. Snape ceased his caresses and peered into the boy’s face, his eyes closed and his mouth agape. He stepped back from Harry.

“You’ve gotten you’re punishment. You can leave.” He hissed, retrieving his wand from the floor and quickly removing the spell from Harry. Suddenly, he felt a little bit more energetic—and a little more loathing. With a sneer, he dressed himself in his casual clothing. His hate for Snape had grown three-fold within the time that he was being tormented. His desire to see Snape suffer boiled, and he wanted nothing more than to watch him twitch on the ground in pain, anguished screams echoing in his imagination.

“Now, Potter. You better change your mind about abusing the rules. I have the authority to punish you whenever I feel it is needed.” Snape snapped, and Harry scowled.

“I hate you,” It feels so good to say that, Harry thought. Snape smirked.

“Oh really, I would think not by that show you just put on before.”

“Dumbledore will hear about this, mark my words.” Harry’s voice was filled with hatred. The fire within him brushed up against the inside of his body.

“Go back to your dormitory, NOW Potter.” The snake-like eyes of Snape came into view as he stepped back within the dimming candle-light.

“Goodnight, Professor.” Harry hissed through his teeth. He opened the door to Snape’s office and fled into the darkness of the dungeons. He pulled out his wand from his jean pocket and produced a light so that he could see his way back to Gryffindor Tower. The eerie and malicious darkness still hung in the air.

He went as far as halfway, and suddenly keeled over, bursting into tears. His sobs reverberated into the dark, hot drops of wet rolling down his cheeks. He wanted to shout, to tell the world how he felt, to tell the world of the hatred that was keeping him down. Most of all, he wanted to tell Dumbledore. Even so, he felt a sort of lock on his heart. For some reason, he felt as though no one would ever know, a shameful that would never escape. He wanted to let it out, but something was keeping him.

He cried into the twilight. His warm desire to go to sleep had gotten the best of him and he made his way to the dorm with a cloud over his head.

Snape had him. Snape found a way to break him. He repaid him for all the times he had stepped out of place, obviously to the expense of his dignity. He was defeated.

Harry cried in his four-poster.

He was no longer the great, unbreakable Harry Potter. He was broken, shattered. Something in him wanted the sun to never come. He wasn’t free any longer, and the thought of morning light mocked him.

The sleep that he had drifted off into, was the sleep that he wanted to last forever. After all, bad things don’t happen when you asleep. . . right? The sound of lament had disappeared into the night and all that was left was the sorrowful and somber night that always hung when the worst things happen.