To Suit the Crime

Even with his wand magically expelled across the room, far out of his reach, Severus Snape didn’t seem at all intimidated by the sight of the young man seemingly bent on vengeance standing in his doorway, Harry Potter noticed as he loomed over his former teacher. The Death Eater just sat there, glaring right back at him, as if Harry’s presence in Snape’s little hideaway was nothing more than an inconvenience.

It only served to make Harry angrier.

“Were you planning on shutting the door any time soon, Potter, or were you planning to kill me in my own home by exposure to the elements? I assure you that there are much worse, and certainly more creative, ways to kill a man,” Snape chided.

“You would know,” Harry agreed emotionlessly. “You are, after all, by far my superior when it comes to murdering people.”

Snape bared his teeth in a wicked sort of grin, which appeared more like a grimace to Harry’s eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, Potter. Even hidden away from the Aurors as I’ve been for the last year and a half, word of your proficiency in killing has still managed to reach me. Imagine that; you may have actually found something in which your performance is more than mediocre. Perhaps I should have been teaching you that instead of Potions. I dare say I would have acquired fewer grey hairs on your account that way.”

Harry slammed the door shut behind him in a fit of temper, thrusting the tip of his wand threateningly at Snape as if it was a sword tip, even before the door had finished reverberating with the echo of his actions.

“The only thing you taught me was how to hate another man with a killing rage. Not even Bellatrix Lestrange or Lord Voldemort accomplished that in their lifetimes. Congratulations, Professor.”

“Then I did what was necessary,” Snape sneered.

“Necessary?” Harry began, outraged. “How dare you –”

“Your greatest power was to love, yes?” Snape interrupted. “Well, that was hardly going to help you when it came to killing the Dark Lord for his crimes. What would you have done, snuggled him to death? You were too weak to go through with it. That is, until you decided, thanks to my interference, that there were worse things in the world than murder. I did nothing more than that which was required of me.”

Harry’s eyes widened almost comically. He stared at Snape, dumbstruck, for a long moment. Then he began laughing somewhat hysterically. Snape watched nonplussed as Harry practically bent over in laughter, though his wand remained trained on the older man in a remarkably steady fashion, much to Snape’s inward dismay.

“Oh, that’s priceless,” Harry sniggered. “I was expecting you to say that Dumbledore told you to kill him, or something equally ridiculous. But no, you’ve outdone yourself. I wouldn’t have imagined that even you could come up with such a big pile of crap and try to pass it off as a reasonable explanation. You killed Dumbledore just so I’d hate you? Of course.” Harry snorted derisively. “How could I ever have doubted your loyalty to the Order? I am ever so sorry for thinking badly of you.”

Though sarcasm was usually Snape’s speciality, Harry soaked his words masterfully in it.

“I had a duty to do,” Snape replied evenly, though Harry could see that his jaw was clenched with held-in aggravation.

“And you did it so well,” Harry agreed. “You can die happily, knowing that.”

Snape smirked. “You won’t kill me, Potter. If you couldn’t kill me the night the Headmaster died, with all that rage to help you, then you can’t possibly expect to succeed now.”

“You may well be right there, sir,” Harry agreed. “But you were right when you said that I’ve become quite good at killing. But what you don’t seem to have grasped is that I’ve spent my time doing more than just killing. The new group of Aurors has become remarkably efficient at many kinds of torture, didn’t you know.

“I’ve tortured a lot of people in the name of justice, Snape, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a single one of their faces in my mind at night, because at the time I was too busy picturing it was you. So tell me now, are you still so confident about how much rage I have in me?”

Snape’s smirk hadn’t sagged in the slightest, as if he was entirely unaffected by the idea that it would only take Harry a few syllables to eliminate him from the wizarding world.

“You don’t want me that seriously hurt,” Snape contradicted confidently.

“I certainly do,” Harry laughed in response.

Snape shook his head. “Oh, no. I know you better than you’ve ever known yourself, Potter. You want something from me, something very specific that you can’t get if you incapacitate me. You don’t want to give up what you see as your right to whatever it is without a fight. Furthermore, I dare say that information about both you torturing me and you getting what you want from me are things that you wouldn’t like your friends from school, or at the Ministry, to get a whiff of for fear that it would irrevocably smear your ‘good’ name. Is that about right? I thought so.

“I just wonder what you would do to get your way, and to buy my silence.”

“Nothing,” Harry replied cheerfully. He leered at Snape. “I don’t need to do a thing, because from this moment on I own you. You do what I say, or I call in those few Dementors that still guard Azkaban. The Ministry isn’t awfully obstinate about granting permission to take away people’s souls, since they found out through Voldemort what evil a Dark wizard could do with one. Or, of course, I really would be all too happy to kill you where you stand. Less paperwork to fill out, you see. Much more quick and efficient.”

“It would greatly benefit you to leave me alive and whole,” Snape claimed. “Do you know why Potter? Because you know that your magic is becoming fouler with every ounce of Dark magic you use to kill off those Death Eaters you deem worthy of being killed by the ‘great’ Harry Potter. You know that killing me will likely tip you over the edge, and that that new Minister and his Aurors would never take you back into their fold if they knew what you had become. You also know that I am your main reason for continuing in an existence that you don’t even like living any more, and you don’t like to think what you would do if your quest for vengeance ever really ended.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly in mock concession.

“I would applaud your spot-on psychoanalysis, but I’m afraid that would require me to move my wand, and I rather like having it pointed straight at you like this. It’s rather satisfying, having you at my mercy. It’s like compensation for all those hours I spent having to comply with your every whim so that I wouldn’t have to spend many more in your company in detention.

“Guess what, Professor? There are no detentions this time around. If you do something wrong, you die. Just like that. It’s called self-defence. The Ministry would prefer to shove you into Azkaban with the rest of the Death Eater scum, but I doubt they’ll miss your company overly much if you turn up dead instead.

“So yeah, I want something from you. You will give that to me, and you won’t get a thing in return other than the possibility that I might let you live, which is more than you gave Dumbledore. Then I’ll either be nice and take you to the Ministry, or I’ll take you straight to the Dementors, depending on how … accommodating you have been. Sound fair? Wonderful.”

Snape was stoically silent as Harry said all of this. He remained that way as Harry moved towards him, the dreaded wand still pointed firmly in his direction, not looking as though it was going to shift in that respect any time in the near future.

When Harry stood before him, Snape merely stared dispassionately up at the young man. He leaned back slightly in his still-seated position at the tiny table at which he’d been drinking tea and reading over potions notes before Harry’s arrival. He somehow made the move look totally unperturbed, rather than as if he was trying to move away from Harry out of discomfort or fear.

He didn’t see the backhand coming, and couldn’t feel the pain in his face for several moments after the contact to his cheek, as if Potter’s hand had shocked all the feeling from his skin, leaving it largely numb. The dull throb that swelled into a stinging pain even as his face swelled outwards where he’d been hit seemed to illustrate his growing consciousness of the world around him. Potter stood over him like a demon coming to escort him to hell – or, at the very least, like some kind of dark angel, though he doubted Potter could claim that title any longer. Not after all that he had seen in and since the war.

Snape didn’t raise his hand to touch his face in defiance, as if it would be showing weakness to determine the extent of his own injury. It couldn’t be too bad if Potter had inflicted it, surely; for all that he was almost a trained assassin those days, Harry Potter was still a waif of a human being, and thus couldn’t possibly be particularly physically strong. Somehow it just didn’t feel that way, though. Snape glared at the young man.

“Sorry,” Harry proclaimed, sounding decidedly pleased with himself. “I couldn’t resist.”

Snape bet he couldn’t; had their positions been reversed, Snape wouldn’t have considered restraining himself for a single moment.

“Get on with whatever you’re planning,” he replied tersely.

Harry grinned devilishly, which might have sent shivers down Snape’s spine if he didn’t know the boy – now man – as well as he did. He knew when Potter was going to carry out a threat, and this was not one of those times.

Harry got right up into Snape’s face, as if contemplating whether he would like to have another go at hitting his former professor. He seemed to decide against it, but didn’t move back to allow Snape to regain his personal space.

“All I’m planning,” Harry explained, “is exactly what I said; to find out just how accommodating you are.”

Snape had never imagined that the boy’s voice would ever sound quite so sultry; he had, in fact, stayed as far away as he could from contemplations of Harry Potter and sensuality in the same wave of thought in the past. It didn’t seem natural even now, when Potter was a full grown man and obviously knew exactly what he was doing as he settled himself on the table in front of Snape, using the hand that was not holding his wand to Snape’s chest to drag Snape forward on his seat toward him, insinuating the older man in between his open legs.

“You want to have sex with me?” Snape questioned, his voice finally puzzled rather than simply emotionless.

Harry chuckled. “Nothing so simple. I want you to submit to me, as you always made your students submit to you. I want you to know that I’m the one in control for once, and that you can’t do a thing to change that. And, by Merlin, I want you to like it.”

Snape looked incredulous. “It would be rape, Potter, nothing more. I certainly wouldn’t like it.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I’ll settle for two out of three if necessary, but I’d stake my life on the fact that you’ll be consenting long before it’s over.”

“I’m on tenterhooks thinking about it, Potter,” Snape muttered in response.

Harry completely ignored him, choosing instead to put his wand to good use. He employed a series of shredding hexes that left Snape’s robes hanging about his otherwise naked frame in tatters. The small smile on Harry’s face as Snape’s scarred torso was revealed indicated that he enjoyed the idea of ripping Snape’s clothing unceremoniously from his body, revealing his former Potions master to his student’s gaze one inch of flesh at a time.

“Get up,” Harry ordered.

Snape stubbornly remained exactly where he was until Harry flicked his wand menacingly in his direction, at which point he rose from his chair and stumbled back away from Harry, closer to where Harry has tossed his wand at the beginning of their encounter. If he could get a hold of his wand, any violation perpetrated by Potter would be more than worthwhile.

“Oh, no,” Harry laughed, grabbing Snape by the arm as he jumped off his perch on the table. “You may be the Legilimency expert, but I can see what you’re thinking from a mile away without even having to use magic. The wand stays where it is, and you come over here.”

Harry directed Snape roughly back towards him, taking a moment to thoroughly grope him – during which time Snape’s body shamefully began to respond against his will – before shoving him back against the table. Snape’s legs buckled when the table hit the back of his knees and he fell into a sitting position, knocking his papers off the surface in all directions across the stone floor. He thought for a moment that the table might break under the assault, but it held firm. He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or not.

Harry took a moment then to survey him, twirling his wand in his hands as he eyed Snape in such a way that screamed that even though the wand tip was no longer directed at him, Harry had control enough to point it quicker than Snape could even think about making a move against him. Snape didn’t like feeling quite so powerless, especially when the cause of that feeling was Harry Potter, of all people.

“As much as I like the sight of you looking like a Knockturn Alley whore who got into a scuffle over territory issues,” Harry admitted with a grin, “I’d much rather be able to see everything under the robes, rather than just those little bits of skin.”

Even as he was still speaking, Snape’s shredded robes began to dissolve away, as if some kind of acidic potion had been poured over them. His skin was, thankfully, left untouched, though he found that it felt vaguely itchy, as if it was shifting over itself. He wasn’t sure whether it really felt that way or whether that was just a mental reaction to the thought of Harry Potter seeing him naked. Probably a mixture of both, he decided.

“Much better,” Harry said when the robes were completely gone. “Though I must admit that I’m feeling a bit overdressed now.”

Another spell removed Harry’s robes, though this spell simply seemed to Apparate the clothes off his body and to a location across the room, where they seemed somehow to fall into a folded pile. Snape would have liked to complain or make a witty remark about that, but he doubted that that would considerably improve his present situation, so he exercised the self-control that Potter had always seemed to lack and kept his mouth shut.

“There you go,” Harry said, a touch of self-satisfaction creeping into his tone. He refrained from smirking to himself at his success at getting to this point.

“There you go,” Snape repeated indifferently, as if he wasn’t naked and sitting prone before Harry. Harry decided to remind him of his position by pushing him backwards so that his back fell to rest on the surface of the table, so that Harry could then mount the table on his knees and straddle Snape. He could almost see the exact thoughts that flickered through Snape’s eyes as he considered whether he could raise his knee into Harry’s groin, push the younger man off him, make it to the corner and fire off those four killing syllables before Harry was able to react. Harry deduced that Snape must have decided against it, as he simply sighed as if bored and let Harry lean over him to latch his mouth cruelly against one of Snape’s nipples.

The ensuing groan that came from Snape’s mouth was highly satisfying for Harry, though he had to admit that it was well-disguised as a groan of discomfort. The twitching of Snape’s cock attested otherwise, and Harry sneered around his mouthful.

“Like that?” he whispered as he let go of the nipple and looked up at Snape’s face, which looked entirely unaffected. His jaw clenched slightly as Harry intentionally rubbed his knee over Snape’s groin by insinuating a leg in between Snape’s.

“Not in the slightest,” Snape replied, though his voice sounded a little tight to Harry. Even that much seemed like a glorious victory where Severus Snape was concerned.

“Just wait.”

Snape didn’t have to wait long for Harry to prove his point, as the younger man deftly took his cock in hand and stroked it to full hardness. Harry slid down his body, and Snape grunted when the boy darted his tongue out to run it across the tip of his cock, caressing his glans almost lovingly, though Snape knew differently.

Harry looked up at him again and beamed. “Still not enjoying yourself?”

“You wish, Potter,” Snape breathed.

“Well, since my wish is your command …”

Harry flipped Snape over underneath him easily, so that his face hovered near Snape’s arse instead of his cock. Harry bit roughly into the cheek, at which Snape had to restrain a strange keen that threatened to escape his throat. He was barely successful in doing so.

“I know what you want,” Harry taunted. “You’d like me to spread you open and do you with my tongue until your already so-hard cock explodes all over the table. I bet you fantasized about having me in this position every day while I was your student. I bet you wanted to punish my insolence by proving to me what better use a mouth can be put to.

“But I won’t do it, because you don’t deserve to be pleasured that way. Not after all that you’ve done to make my life hell.” Harry fairly growled at the man captured under his body. “So you’ll just have to make do with my cock up there, instead.”

Snape reached his arms upwards so that he could clutch at the opposite end of the table as Harry made quick work of preparing him for entry. When a cock that seemed much larger and less lubricated than the fingers the boy had used pushed at the ring of muscle, Snape decided that Harry had probably made the work a little too quick, and that he had probably intended it that way, most unfortunately.

The burn on his cock as Harry entered into Snape was both exquisite and painful at once, and Harry was amused to think how much worse it must have been for the man underneath him. Harry had learned well enough in the past how useless saliva was as a lubricant in the long run, but he was willing to put up with the almost uncomfortable friction if it meant that Snape would have to live through the same, in a decidedly more unpleasant way.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Harry snarled in Snape’s ear as the other man groaned. “Well, this is nothing compared to how much you hurt me. I had to watch you kill my mentor in front of me, helpless to do anything to stop it. My godfather died because you goaded him into it. My parents were murdered because of a prophecy that the Dark Lord would have had no knowledge of if it wasn’t for you. This is nothing compared to all that.”

“You’ve always thought the world revolved – ah!” Snape cried out as Harry intentionally scraped the head of his penis against that spot inside Snape that he knew would set off fireworks behind his ex-teacher’s eyes. A few more similarly angled thrusts and Snape found himself moving back into Harry ever so slightly with each thrust.

Snape had never felt so uncomfortable and so aroused in the same breath in all his life. Each stroke pushed him up and down across the surface of the table, rubbing his cock against the wood repeatedly. He took a moment to wonder about splinters before all thought was pushed from his mind by a particularly skilled swivel of Potter’s hips.

“Fuck!” Snape cursed.

“What was that?” Harry asked innocently. He seemed to even further slow his movements, while at the same time seemed to be putting all of his energy into stimulating Snape’s prostate.

Snape tried to remain silent, but a harsh, “Uh!” escaped his mouth regardless, which was quickly followed by, “Faster, damn you! Fuck!”

Snape couldn’t see Potter’s face, but he could practically see the smug smile that had formed in any case.

“There, that wasn’t so hard,” Harry said, but even his voice was fast becoming strained as he picked up the pace. “I told you that you would beg for it before the end.”

Snape said nothing in response, but let out an embarrassing moan as he reached orgasm against the table. Harry picked up the pace further, and was climaxing himself a moment after Snape had stopped bucking almost violently back into him.

When Harry had finally removed himself from his position slumped across Snape’s back, where sweat had been pooling between their bodies along with Harry’s semen, he sat back into the chair that he’d earlier forced Snape to vacate, as if exhausted by their activities. He idly spun his wand – which he had refused to relinquish even during the sex – in circles in his right hand.

Snape, quite weary himself, manoeuvred himself around onto his back so that he could see Harry.

“So, that was enlightening. I suppose it’s off to Azkaban now. I was accommodating enough for you, I suppose?” he asked contemptuously.

Harry smiled silently at him for a moment before standing up. Even as he reached out with one hand to caress Snape’s face, his wand hand issued a summoning charm. Snape barely had time to widen his eyes before the knife that had been summoned from the small kitchenette in the other room into Harry’s hand sunk into his chest. Harry grinned and ended his touch with a light slap to Snape’s face, as if the stabbing hadn’t been enough to shock him into reality.

After a moment of disbelieving stillness, Snape’s whole body began to shudder and twitch, until he brusquely fell from the table. Harry stood over the writhing figure on the ground as the last fight drained out of it.

“You were barely adequate,” Harry advised emotionlessly. “And for Merlin’s sake, what ever gave you the idea that I’d risk dirtying my magic on your account, when a simple Muggle implement does the job just as well?”

Harry crossed the room towards his clothes, running his blood-spattered hands down the wall before he reached down and retrieved his robes and shucked them back on.

“And tell me, in what lifetime did you think I would actually ever forgive you for all that you have done to me?” Harry spat at Snape, as he finished buttoning his robes up the front. “As if you deserved to go to Azkaban and live when Dumbledore and so many others died because of you. Well, go to hell. I hope to one day meet you there.”

He smoothed his hands down his outfit to smooth away the evidence that it had ever left his person, remarking dispassionately that there was still drying blood stuck around and under his fingernails. He then shrugged and stepped over the body that had once belonged to his Hogwarts teacher on the bloody stone floor, making sure to jostle it out of the road callously with his foot as he strode out the door, his footsteps echoing in an otherwise silent room.

~Fin~