Ties of Obsession

Title: Ties of Obsession
Pairing: Severus Snape/Draco Malfoy
Rating: Wild (NC-17)
Warnings: Dubious consent, bondage, spanking
Summary: Snape keeps Draco safe after the attack on Hogwarts.
Author's notes: This fic happens after the end of HBP. Written for 'myrainydays' on LiveJouranl for the XXXmas Christmas Fic Exchange. I hope you love it, Gil! Many Many thanks to Ldybastet and ringspells for looking over this fic :)
Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters or places are property to JK Rowling. This work of fiction is purely for entertainment purposes only; no money is being exchanged.


Draco's fingers were beyond tired, joints cramping after addressing numerous envelopes. He'd written Wulfrick's Potions &c so many times, he knew he'd be able to do it in his sleep.

Even though he was in hiding, keeping himself secret, out of public eye, and even though he had no tutor to teach him Charms or Transfiguration or Arithmancy while not in school, he was not the least bit bored or left without anything to occupy his time. Nor was he alone.

About eleven months earlier, he had failed to complete a task set upon him by Voldemort. He'd been ready for it, anxious to kill his Lord's most feared enemy, but when finally faced with the opportunity he found that he could not cast the Killing Curse. He'd only completed half of his task, and having failed the most important aspect of the plan, he was forced to flee away Hogwarts, away from Voldemort, and pray that his own nemesis, Harry Potter, would kill the Dark Lord so that he could reclaim his life, or whatever would be left of it once the dust settled.

Draco sealed the last of the day's packages to be mailed out that day, sat back in his chair, and let out a long sigh, slouching in fatigue. Hearing footsteps, he sat up straight -- even in hiding he was still a Malfoy, and Malfoys don't slouch.

"Finished, Mr Malfoy?" Draco looked up as Snape entered the room and nodded. Snape gathered up the envelopes and boxes, told Draco that dinner would be in an hour, and headed back for the laboratory.

Draco relaxed his posture again. The situation could have been worse, he admitted to himself; he was doing more work now than he ever had, even in school studying for OWLs, yes, but he didn't have sycophantic idiots or simpering tarts following him everywhere he went. Nor were Potter and his friends there whenever he turned a corner, leading to insults and hexes being thrown around wildly.

He had his privacy. He had more independence than he'd ever had before, such as it was... but it just wasn't the same.

-----

The packages had been mailed, the laboratory cleaned save for the four cauldrons bubbling away. In the kitchen, potatoes had been peeled, chicken was seasoned and in the oven, and Snape was toasting bread to serve with dinner.

Dinner, as usual, was a quiet affair. Draco had finally given up his attempts to glean from Snape as to whom Snape was delivering information, and how Snape could be so sure that they'd live to see the end of the war without being killed or taken by Aurors in the process. Business was picking up, and he'd had to brew more and more potions to fill incoming orders, which meant that he had more and more envelopes and packages for Draco to prepare for delivery, in addition to helping brew potions. Draco's fatigue was clearly evident in the way he sat at the dinner table, in his bleariness in the mornings, in the way he pretended he wasn't slouching whenever Snape entered the room.

After dinner, Snape cleared away the dishes and told Draco to go to bed to get a good night's sleep. He cleaned the plates, glasses, and silverware, leaving them on the draining board to dry. He poured himself a glass of brandy and moved to the parlour, where he sat in an old threadbare armchair to watch the flames in the grate dance and flicker.

If he thought it was difficult to play the spy before the incident in the Astronomy tower, he had been fooling himself. Now that he was in hiding, he had to take more cautious efforts when answering the Dark Lord's summons. He left Draco behind the first time, telling Voldemort and the other Death Eaters that Draco had fallen in the attack, that he failed to kill Albus Dumbledore, and that Snape himself had completed the task. Even the boy's mother believed Draco to be dead, killed while fleeing the attack on Hogwarts, for the safety Snape had promised him, failing to find Snape in the chaotic aftermath. Voldemort suspected Snape, of course, and Snape had to suffer for it, but the plan held; Draco was still safe, and Snape was still allowed in Voldemort's circle of followers.

All in all, things weren't terribly different for Snape now from the way they had been before the attack. The current situation afforded Snape a few advantages: he could focus his attention on his potions; he didn't have to worry about dunderheads exploding cauldrons in his classroom; he didn't have to worry about students hexing each other in Defence classes. It was quieter in the safe house than even at Spinner's End during the summer months.

Eyes losing their focus on the bright flames, Snape began to make a mental list of what he would need to owl for in the morning. He finished his brandy and slowly got up from the comfortable armchair. Leaving his glass in the kitchen sink, he made his way up creaking stairs towards his rooms. He paused a moment, deciding to have Draco send the owls for necessities in the morning, and turned to the boy's door.

He pushed the door open without knocking, opened his mouth to speak, and found that he could not. There before his eyes lay Draco, one wrist tied to the bedpost, the other arm bound to his side and one leg bent double and tied by thin straps of leather.

The door creaked. The boy's head snapped up, a look of absolute fury contorting his features.

"Get out!" Draco bellowed, face turning red with the effort. "You've no right to come barging in here, unannounced, without so much as a knock! GET OUT!"

Snape backed away, leaving the door open in his haste. Once back in his own room he slammed the door behind him, the image of his charge burned into his mind. One thing he couldn't help but to notice, however, was that Draco was not fully erect, despite the effort he seemed to be putting forth.

-----

Draco didn't get much sleep that night. After being interrupted, he'd had too many thoughts and emotions whirling around inside him to let him get any sleep at all. He'd been so put off by Snape's entering his room unannounced that he had untied himself, locked the door with the strongest charms he knew, and lain in bed wide awake for hours. Never mind the fact that he had been feeling frustrated and hadn't had a good orgasm in far too many days. Most nights he was too tired, and lately when he did reach climax, it just wasn't there, wasn't quite good enough, and left him more frustrated afterwards, more tense, rather than calm and at ease.

Draco knew that he couldn't let his emotions get in the way between Snape and himself. He needed Snape to help keep him safe, and Snape needed him to help with the business which provided them money to live off. So he kept his anger in check, even though he did speak less to Snape, and went about his duties as best he could.

After several days, things settled and Draco began to let go of the anger he'd felt for the older wizard. No mention of the encounter had ever been made after that night, and Draco was glad for it. The increase in orders for potions had seemed to taper off, and many of the new orders were for potions or ingredients for potions that could easily been taken from stores.

Draco caught himself several times staring out the window at the grass so bright a green in the brilliant rays of the summer sun. When he and Snape had first settled into the house there was a rule that, on the chance of being seen, neither were to step foot outside the door. It was a few months after that when Snape had told Draco that he was summoned, and it wasn't quite fair that Snape could leave while he was stuck inside, he thought. Draco turned when he felt eyes upon him, made eye contact, and then continued his work as Snape turned away, back towards the laboratory.

He had no idea how things were progressing with the war; he only hoped that something big would happen soon, so that he could step foot outside. He wanted to remember what sunlight felt like, warming his face.

-----

Despite all appearances to the contrary, Snape had an impossible time of getting the image of Draco out of his head after walking in on the boy that one evening. Every time he laid eyes on the boy, he fought to keep warmth from flushing his cheeks. Every time he saw Draco, he fought to keep himself from mentally disrobing the boy, remembering the expanses of pale flesh and the way the single candle by the boy's bed made the thin sheen of sweat glow like moonlight. He threw himself into his work, setting six or eight cauldrons upon flame, rather than the usual four, in hopes of keeping himself too busy to think about what he'd witnessed.

However, all of his extra work was for naught; each night when he went to bed, the sight of a naked, bound, semi-erect Draco Malfoy burned behind his eyelids. He couldn't help thinking about those muscles stretched or straining against bonds, the skin of Draco's throat and chest flushed pink, the look of fierce concentration upon his face.

The first night, he fell asleep with an aching erection which refused to ease. The third night, angry at himself for walking in on Draco and angry at Draco for his lewd actions in the room just across the hall, Snape masturbated with the image firmly in his mind. The next several nights were passed in the same manner.

It became a routine, after a while: act as though nothing was out of the ordinary during the day, spend the night with immoral thoughts regarding his charge. The knowledge that the young man was just across the hall didn't help one bit.

Feeling more restless than ever one night, Snape dared to creep across the hall and spy on the boy. But the door was locked, so he returned to bed to try again the next day. He didn't want to risk enflaming Draco's anger a second time, didn't want to think about what actions the young Malfoy would take if humiliated again in such a manner.

Two and a half weeks later, though, when Snape felt for the locking charms on the door, he found that they hadn't been set. Very carefully, and as quietly as he could, he pushed the door open just a crack and was ashamed to realize that he was glad to see Draco as he'd been seeing him in his mind's eye every night: half bound, half hard, pale hand wrapped around the flushed prick struggling to reach its full potential. He watched for several minutes before creeping back to his own room to take care of the erection tenting his nightshirt.

A few nights later, Snape once again crept across the hall to Draco's room, quietly pushed the door open just a crack, and found Malfoy in the midst of tying himself up the best he could: one wrist bound to the bedpost, one arm bound to his side, one leg bent and bound tight. He watched as the boy stroked himself for several minutes before squirming to reach behind himself and whining with frustration when he couldn't achieve what he was trying to. After watching the boy struggle a bit more, Snape pushed the door open wide, swishing his wand and catching Draco's as it flew into his palm. Back again was the look of fury on the pale, pointed face, eyes widening before narrowing into a glare. He no longer cared about incurring the boy's wrath.

"How dare you!" the boy spat, fighting against his self-made bonds. "How dare you invade my privacy a second time! GET OUT!"

But Snape didn't leave; instead, he stepped closer to the bed and the struggling body in it, setting Draco's wand on the bedside table. He watched as Draco writhed in bed, trying to get out of his bonds, to cover himself or to lunge at his intruder. Snape remained quiet as Draco shouted and cursed; he kept still as he watched the body wriggle, muscle sliding beneath skin, sweat breaking with the effort. Draco flailed his free hand, and Snape caught it at the wrist with a grip not quite strong enough to bruise.

"Let go of me, you bastard, I hate you! Get out!"

Snape ignored the words. Instead, he cast two more silent charms, one removing the strap around Draco's chest, releasing the arm bound there, the second sending rope from his wand to bind Draco's free wrist to the other. "If you kick me, Draco, I'll gag you," he warned before banishing the leather strap around Draco's thigh and ankle. Glaring, Draco heeded the threat and did not kick out.

Easing himself down next to Draco, Snape reached out and slid his hand lightly down Draco's chest, admiring the contrast between Draco's pale skin and his own sallow fingertips, stained by years of potions fumes. Snape made eye contact, saw the fire behind Draco's eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the young man's semi-tumescent cock and gave one firm, slow stroke.

He didn't stroke a second time; instead he kept his hand still as he studied Draco's face. A moment later Draco started writhing about again and Snape raised his wand in warning, the incantation on the tip of his tongue to conjure a gag to press into Draco's mouth. When Draco was still, he stroked again.

The bed creaked beneath him as he shifted his position to a better angle. He continued stroking, aware of his own arousal throbbing beneath layers of cotton and wool. The prick in his hand was hard now, harder than he'd seen it when spying on the boy. He dipped his fingers down to press against the soft skin behind Draco's balls, noting the ragged moan that escaped the boy's lips. He continued to touch and tease Draco, rubbing his thumb over the slit at the head of Draco's cock, smearing clear liquid across hot skin.

Draco was panting now. Carefully, Snape nudged Draco to lie on his side, and the bed creaked again as Snape stretched out behind him. He prodded Draco with the tip of his wand, pressing gently between firm, pale buttocks, and cast a spell to slick the puckered entrance. He had a jar of lubricant in his room, but he wasn't about to leave his charge's side to fetch it. That could wait until later; the charm would do for now.

Turning the wand point away from Draco and palming the handle, Snape stretched out one digit and rubbed around Draco's arsehole, stroking and teasing the muscles to relax them before slipping his finger inside. Draco mewled, "Stop, don't do this, let me go," but Snape didn't stop. He continued to slide his finger in and out, slowly, before adding a second to stretch the boy. His fingers bumped Draco's prostate, causing the boy to cry out, and he used the gland to his advantage, to give the boy pleasure and to help him relax further. Snape made sure to go slowly, to make sure Draco was properly prepared. He knew it would be painful for Draco no matter what he did, but he wanted to make sure there was as little pain involved as possible.

Transferring his wand to his other hand, Snape reached between himself and Draco and swiftly undid his trousers, freeing his aching erection. He pushed Draco's leg forward with his knee before pressing himself to Draco's back. He buried his face between Draco's shoulder blades, inhaling the scent of sweat and musk before slowly, carefully pushing the head of his cock into Draco's arse. Draco whimpered as Snape pressed forward before withdrawing slightly, pushing in again, deeper. It took a couple minutes of gentle rocking, but finally Snape was fully sheathed within the young man.


The tight muscles around his cock, the warmth surrounding him, were enough to cause Snape to moan. He set a slow pace, gradually picking up speed as he felt Draco relax further. He leaned forward so that Draco was half beneath him, rocking his hips, tilting so that he could find just the right angle to stimulate Draco's prostate with each thrust. Reaching around, he grabbed Draco's cock, pleased to find that it was still hard, if not harder than before he penetrated the boy.

Young man, he mentally reminded himself. He's not a boy anymore.

He stroked Draco in time with his steady thrusts, moaning at just how good it felt, even if the whole situation was wrong; he was supposed to watch after Draco, keep him protected, and not take advantage of him. But Draco had stopped protesting, now, and Snape assumed Draco was enjoying it just as much as he was, if the sounds the young man was making were anything to go by.

Tension coiled tighter in his belly and he thrust harder, still keeping his pace slow enough so as to not hurt Draco. He twisted his hand just so at the end of each stroke and, before long, he felt the muscles around his cock contract, squeezing him deliciously tighter as sticky threads of come were spilled over his hand. Another thrust and he too came, filling Draco as he groaned.

He lay still for several long moments, forehead pressed against Draco's shoulder, before he withdrew from the young, naked body. He cast a cleaning charm on himself and on Draco, tucked himself away, and picked up the young man's wand from the bedside table before placing it in Draco's slack hand. He cast one last look over the flushed body in the bed before leaving the room.

-----

When Draco woke, he ached everywhere. His hands were numb, arms sore from being held straight at an uncomfortable angle for hours. His wand was already in his hand, so he removed the leather and rope from around his wrists. When he sat up he found that his arse hurt from the abuse it had taken the night before, and the reminder of those activities sent fury through his heart.

Snape. His teacher. His protector.

Glancing out the bathroom window, as there was no window in the bedroom, Draco saw that it was much later in the day than he had thought. After he showered and dressed he made his way down to the kitchen, where Snape had lunch and tea set out on the table. Looking at the only clock in the house, Draco saw that it was quarter past noon.

"You let me sleep in." The words were innocent enough, but there was accusation behind them.

Snape didn't look up from the letter he was writing. "You needed the rest; I know you haven't been sleeping well at all, as of late."

"You just wanted to put off the inevitable, you mean." Draco said, eyes narrowing. "After what you did, you *knew* I'd come to find you. You wanted to put it off as long as possible, didn't you?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," Snape replied.

"No - No Idea? You have no idea?!" Draco watched, indignant, as Snape got to his feet to add the envelope to the stack on the small table just outside the kitchen.

"If you're referring to last night-"

Draco interrupted, "Of course I'm referring to last night! You raped me, you bastard! I told you to stop, but you w-"

He saw Snape’s eyes narrow. When Snape spoke his voice was low, threatening.

“You may have begged me to stop, Mr Malfoy,” Snape began, stepping out from behind the table and walking closer, stopping just outside of Draco’s personal space. “However, you very obviously both needed it and enjoyed it, so I would appreciate it if you stopped your snivelling and your crude accusations.”

“I didn’t enjoy it!” Draco yelled. “And I most certainly didn’t need it, you fucking bastard! Even if I’d wanted it, I most certainly wouldn’t want it from you!”

Draco definitely did not like the look behind those dark eyes of Snape’s, nor did he like the way Snape smirked. “Mr Malfoy, I well remember what I saw in your room. Let me remind you that ships cannot sail at half-mast.”

Draco’s eyes widened. He let out a snarl and lurched at the older man, wand drawn and curse ready to be spat. Before he could take two steps he was slammed back against the wall, a wand pointed right between his eyes. He looked into Snape's face, making eye contact, and immediately felt Snape all but tearing through his memories, bringing forth images of what had transpired the night before. It ended just as quickly as it had begun, and before he could make another move, Snape grabbed the front of his robes and shoved him towards the kitchen table. The edge of the table jabbed sharply into his hips, causing him to double over. His arms were stretched out before him and stuck to the table by what must have been a Sticking Charm. Just as he was about to protest, his robes were pushed up over his hips and his pants pulled down, bearing his arse to the room and, in the unlikely event that someone dropped by for a visit, Draco's arse would have been the first thing they'd seen, walking through the front door.

Once again he was bound by Snape, unable to reach his wand, and completely at Snape's mercy.

"A little humiliation might do you some good, Mr Malfoy," Snape said, his voice calm yet slightly strained. It sounded odd. "To the contrary: what I've just seen in your memories and," Snape bent to peer under the table, "your current state, you quite enjoyed last night's activities, and you seem to enjoy being all trussed up. Therefore, I would kindly appreciate it if you refrained from any such accusations. This, perhaps, will teach you that I am not the sort of person you ought to threaten.”

"I hate you, Snape!"

Before leaving the kitchen, Snape smacked Draco's arse with a resounding *crack*. "You'll get over it, I'm sure."

-----

Snape’s fingertips stung for several long minutes after he struck Draco’s bare arse. There was no doubt in his mind that the mark he left would last longer than that. Draco would be forced to remain in that position and consider the actions that put him there for at least another hour, before the temporary Sticking Charm released his wrists. ‘I may not be his professor any longer’, Snape thought to himself, ‘though he should remember that he should still treat me with respect, since I am his guardian.'

He remained in his laboratory until lunch. He ate lunch alone, though he left a plate on the kitchen table for Draco, with a Stasis Charm so that it would stay warm until the boy decided to eat. Rather than leaving the stack of envelopes that needed addressing on the table for Draco to see and complete if he ever decided to come downstairs, Snape addressed them all himself. He had five potions simmering, and there were several more that ought to have been. They could wait until later, though; they were simple potions, and weren’t needed for immediate delivery.

Dinnertime came, and the plate he’d left for Draco was still on the table, untouched. Snape didn’t see Draco for dinner, either; the boy was probably brooding up in his room. Snape would fetch him tomorrow, if Draco decided to keep hiding from him. There was far too much work for him to do on his own. Snape needed Draco’s help in return for keeping the boy safe, and he wasn’t going to let the boy laze about all day doing nothing.

He didn’t have to go looking for Draco in the morning, though. Draco appeared at the breakfast table, however silent. He did work set to him without complaint or mistakes. He helped in the laboratory, following Snape’s directions, without saying a word.

There was tension between them, yes, but it could be ignored easily enough. ‘So he can be mature after all,’ Snape mentally commented, watching Draco stir a potion exactly 23 times, anticlockwise, just as the instructions specified.

-----

It was hard to forget what Snape had done to him, and even harder still to consider forgiving him. He was in debt to Snape, though; Snape had sworn to protect him, and he was kept safe. That didn’t mean he had to like the man.

He refused to talk to Snape, at first, but after several days he found it too difficult to work together in silence. He spoke when he needed to, but did not go out of his way to hold actual conversations with the man. There was never any mention of Snape’s actions from either one of them. No apologies for first raping his body, then raping his mind. There were no apologies for entering his room, invading his privacy, either.

Weeks passed, the temperature outside turning cold, matching the atmosphere inside the house. Draco didn’t want to trust Snape again, didn’t want to stop hating him, but every so often his thoughts would return to the night when Snape had bound him to the bed and fucked him. He thought about what had happened afterwards, when Snape had pulled forth memories and images of that night, and though he didn’t want to admit it, there was one thing that he simply could not deny: even though he told Snape to stop, even though he’d been convincing himself that it was purely a natural bodily reaction to what Snape had done, he could not deny that his orgasm had been simply mind-blowing. It had left his whole body limp, his mind numb, and his nerve endings tingling from head to toe. It was what he had been aching for, never being able to achieve no matter how hard he tried.

Despite his fury he had felt relaxed afterwards, months of tension suddenly eased from his muscles. And, above all that, he’d slept soundly through the night and late into the morning. He’d felt refreshed, rather than still fatigued, when he woke. His head had been clear, rather than slightly muzzy. He'd felt fully rested, rather than as if he hadn’t slept enough. It was a feeling he craved again, these many weeks later; a feeling he needed, one that, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, was one that he could not feel again through any actions of his own.

Wanking in the shower, the only place he felt he had any sort of privacy at all, was simply not enough. He needed Snape. He needed to be tied up and fucked.

It took him another couple of weeks to finally admit to himself that yes, he wanted this, and yes, he would go to Snape for it.

After a particularly busy day, both of them having brewed more potions in one day than they’d ever needed to do previously, after dinner had been eaten and dishes cleared away, Draco and Snape had gone to their own rooms. Once he'd undressed, Draco gathered his strips of leather in one hand and his wand in the other, left his room and strode across the hall and into Snape’s room, not bothering to knock. He met Snape’s eyes as the man looked up from his book. Neither one said anything as Draco stepped forward to toss the leather straps into Snape’s lap.

Snape picked up the leather. He looked from the material in his hands for a moment, before turning his eyes back to Draco. Draco nodded, and Snape pushed the blankets back, rising from the bed.

This time, Draco wouldn’t tell Snape to stop.

The End