Nameless

It was humiliating.

He hated the way their eyes glazed when he walked onto the stage, dressed in such revealing outfits, time after time. He hated it when they laughed at his embarassment, coaxing him to remove more and more. His lip was still hurting, hours after the show, because he couldn't stop biting it in fits of anxiety, or when somebody else did. But no one cared, really - only Snape.

If he was, quote, 'a good boy'.

But what, in reality, was a 'good boy' to Severus Snape? No matter what he did, good intention or not, he seemed to always end up being such a misbehaving brat that deserved intense punishment - as in, being pulled in the air by his ankles (such a lovely joy, that levicorpus spell was) and left there to hang for hours. Naked. He hated it when the Death Eaters laughed at his shame, reveling over the fact that he was actually there for their own viewing and physical pleasures.

Though, what could he do? Snape controlled his every move, his every wish - he hated it.

"I can't do this anymore," he finally said to him one morning in late December, when the snow was heavy and he felt extremely cold - not just physically, but emotionally, too. "I just can't."

He would always remember the look on Severus' face when he placed his qull to the side of his desk, leaning his head ever-so-nonchalantly on one hand and letting that devious smirk rise upon his lips once more. He'd always hate that look on his face, that arrogant look that said to anyone else who was looking he was better than them. And he was, too - that was what pissed him off the most. Severus really was better than everyone else. Or, at least, it looked to him that way.

"And what," he drawled, black eyes shining in amusement, "Makes you think that you have any sort of free will in the matter?"

He froze at the sound of Snape's voice. Every time the other spoke, it made him stop whatever he was doing - complete obedience, and it made Severus laugh at him, simply because he had turned into an obedient bitch. What makes you think that you have any sort of free will in the matter? Severus' voice echoed in the recesses of his brain, and he bit his lip again, flinching at the pain recieved because the skin was already sensitive and bruised. It's my body, he responded to the echoes mentally, staring at the mahogany flooring. It's my body and I should be able to do what I want with it. Severus snorted.

"You think so, love?"

Another mistake on his part - he had forgotten that Snape had that nice, hilarious little ability to read fucking minds. He clenched his fists. How could he have forgotten about that - Severus lifted his free hand in a sort of 'shut up' position, and for some strange reason, he did. His teeth clenched - his hands shook. "Unfortunately for you, my adorable little tart, I have every right to simply ignore you and your wishes, because I have the power in our lovely relationship and you, sadly, do not."

He had never hated Severus as much as he did right now.

"As I remember, however, you seemed to have no problem participating in these affairs... Having second thoughts, are we?"

Absolute loathing was the degree of hate flowing through his body.

"I knew that you couldn't handle it."

Just keep talking, Snape, he hissed in his subconscious, hoping that the bastard would hear it. He hated the look that spread over Severus' face when he in fact did hear his thoughts, the spiteful comments that seemed to grow with every passing minute. After a given half-hour of silence, their eyes connecting and battling for dominance, Snape stood, walking over and pulling him close, actually lifting him onto his tip-toes, face almost touching his own. Can I really handle it anymore?

"The look on your face," he reminisced, "was that of the most delightful, wanton whore. But not just a common slut that forced their enjoyment for their payment - something special. You loved it, if I am correct, when every last one of us took the last bits of energy from your body, draining you completely of cum. Didn't you love being fucked by men you used to fight against so valiantly, becoming powerless in their wake?"

How could he respond to that?

How could he respond to that?

"Exactly," he finished. "Again, I am right, and you're helpless but to admit your defeat and submit once more. Though, I do have to say that I should set some limits - your pretty lips look sore, and I'm sure that other parts of your body are as well. Regardless of what you must think of me, I do have strong feelings for you, love - just not in all the... Right ways or denominations."

He said nothing in response to Snape's commentary.

"Only I can ever know you so well, I hope that you're beginning to realize."

He stared at the floor.

"I know what you want, and that your complaints are complete lies."

Snape pulled him closer, if that was possible, wrapping his strong arms around his thin frame.

"I adore you, Harry."

And he did, albeit that it took Harry the longest time to feel the same way.

Though, no matter how much time passed from the beginning of this 'adventure' to the present moment, Harry would always feel the exact same way about everything that happened, everything that he saw, felt, experienced - he hated it. Of course, as Severus had pointed out, he did enjoy it in some sick way or form. But that wouldn't suffice for his true feelings on each separate matter - he hated it. Did Severus really love him? Harry would never know - legilimency wasn't one of his stronger suits. He had never hated Snape, just the things he did and had him do - just the things he was too ashamed to admit that he did.

"I adore you, Harry."

He still wanted it to stop.


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NOTE: Should I continue this?