Hero Worship, Part 3 of 25
Nov. 12th, 2006 01:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenna_c_tanBy the way, apologies to my f-list. I've been at a conference since Wednesday and have had no time to read my friends' list at all. Okay, maybe one hour, but that hardly counts...! If there's something you really wanted me to see, comment so I'll go back for it!
Title: Hero Worship, Part 3/25
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Word Count: 36,901 total, 878 this part
Disclaimer: This is non-commercial fanfiction. Trademarked characters are used for non-commercial purposes.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
miraba, jordangrant
Author's Note: A gift forregan_v, as a request she made about submissive!snape brought this on.
Warnings: A touch of BDSM/power exchange sex.
Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm (The Fest was due to begin Nov. 10th--now pushed back 1 month, but authors may post in their own journals).
Challenge/Summary: "What if...?" What if Snape did not escape at the end of Half-Blood Prince? What if Kingsley Shacklebolt caught him before he could Apparate away? Not trusted by the Order, but still determined to bring down Voldemort, Snape agrees to undergo an unusual spell.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
HERO WORSHIP, Chapter Three
by Ravenna C. Tan
I return to my quarters that evening after dinner with a growing sense of melancholy. I had never thought to return to these rooms again. I had resigned myself to Albus' plan. Yet here I am again. The sitting room's placid appearance taunts me, the image of the simple, quiet life I was never allowed to lead.
After the long afternoon spent strung so taut for Potter, the thought of Albus' body flung backwards by my curse makes me snap. I obliterate the armchair where the old man used to sit on the rare occasions when he visited me here. I move next with a kind of manic glee to reduce the side table to kindling. It shatters most satisfactorily.
The sprint down the corridor to the potions classroom just fuels my unleashed rage and once there I let fly hex after hex onto the wooden workbenches. Perhaps the fourth or fifth one has gone flying into splinters when suddenly Potter is there, his arms around me, or maybe mine are around him, as he appears without warning, off balance, falling against me.
His sudden presence is sobering, to say the least, and I am so shocked that my wand falls from my hand.
He takes a step back and I see he is dressed only in a thin shirt and underpants. He winces as he steps on broken wood, and his voice is high with alarm. "What are you doing?" He gestures and the wand--my wand--flies to his hand.
I am staring at the traitorous stick of ebony in his fist, but I say in a voice approximating my usual aplomb, "I believe the Muggle term would be 'blowing off steam.'"
"By destroying everything in sight? Jeez, Snape, and this isn't even your classroom anymore!"
I had forgotten that. And as I trip on that thought, four other thoughts are vying for attention in my head. One is that Potter has got my wand and isn't it startling that he can not only Summon his own wand nonverbally, but mine, too? Two is that it may not matter whose classroom this is since there may very well not be a next term at Hogwarts. Three is that Argus must have brought him here, since it isn't possible to Apparate within the grounds.
Four is that under that thin shirt and underpants he is erect, and I wonder what activity he was in the midst of when he appeared here.
I quickly rotate back to thought Number One. "Your Summoning skills appear to go beyond even today's practice."
"I... you..." He hands the wand back to me stiffly. "Don't do that again," he scolds, his face red.
"Did you assume I'd gone on a traitorous rampage?"
"I didn't know what to think," he says. "You know, the charm works the other way, too. The chain works kind of like a portkey. Next time I could have it bring you to me, instead of the other way around."
Curiosity gets the better of me. "And why didn't you?"
He sputters, unable or unwilling to answer that. It dawns on him that the charm has no way to return him to his previous place, either, so he now faces the prospect of walking barefoot and half-clothed from the dungeon all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, or wherever he has taken up residence upon answering Minerva's call.
Mr. Potter, I realize the heat of summer must be unbearable for you to gallivant so... That and other snide possibilities come to mind as I turn and walk out of the classroom. But what I say is: "If you'd like to borrow a cloak, you may."
"Er... okay."
Thank Merlin he says nothing else, merely follows me back to my door. The shattered furniture within still mocks me. I hand Potter a black traveling cloak, Transfigure it short enough for him to wear without tripping on it, and slip it over his shoulders.
Now my face is red. Thought Number Four simply will not subside. "Good night, Mr. Potter," I say.
"Good night, Snape," he says, turning away and nearly fleeing barefoot down the corridor.
When he is gone I Banish the mess and pace in front of the hearth. I have learned to hide my thoughts from everyone, and my feelings from most. But this damned caretaker spell, if it really allows him to sense my emotions, how can I hide the fact that it has been years--years, I tell you--since I saw male flesh turgid in anticipation of pleasure? And that the sight of his...?
Merlin, this cannot be. But my brain does its own wondering, about who he was with. Or was he alone? "Blowing off steam" in his own way?
My hands clench into fists as I realize that if I seek any relief in that fashion he will know. He will sense it. I am mortified by the additional thought that if I become too excited, he may whisk me to wherever he is to scold me as he did earlier.
I am only making it worse. I grab a bottle of Ogdens' Old Firewhiskey from the shelf and pour myself a generous glass. I light a cool fire just for some visual distraction and stare into the flames in the grate as I gulp the whiskey down without tasting it. Albus Dumbledore is dead, but I am the one who is in hell.
--
[On to Chapter Four.]
Title: Hero Worship, Part 3/25
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Word Count: 36,901 total, 878 this part
Disclaimer: This is non-commercial fanfiction. Trademarked characters are used for non-commercial purposes.
Beta:
miraba, jordangrantAuthor's Note: A gift for
regan_v, as a request she made about submissive!snape brought this on.Warnings: A touch of BDSM/power exchange sex.
Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm (The Fest was due to begin Nov. 10th--now pushed back 1 month, but authors may post in their own journals).
Challenge/Summary: "What if...?" What if Snape did not escape at the end of Half-Blood Prince? What if Kingsley Shacklebolt caught him before he could Apparate away? Not trusted by the Order, but still determined to bring down Voldemort, Snape agrees to undergo an unusual spell.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
HERO WORSHIP, Chapter Three
by Ravenna C. Tan
I return to my quarters that evening after dinner with a growing sense of melancholy. I had never thought to return to these rooms again. I had resigned myself to Albus' plan. Yet here I am again. The sitting room's placid appearance taunts me, the image of the simple, quiet life I was never allowed to lead.
After the long afternoon spent strung so taut for Potter, the thought of Albus' body flung backwards by my curse makes me snap. I obliterate the armchair where the old man used to sit on the rare occasions when he visited me here. I move next with a kind of manic glee to reduce the side table to kindling. It shatters most satisfactorily.
The sprint down the corridor to the potions classroom just fuels my unleashed rage and once there I let fly hex after hex onto the wooden workbenches. Perhaps the fourth or fifth one has gone flying into splinters when suddenly Potter is there, his arms around me, or maybe mine are around him, as he appears without warning, off balance, falling against me.
His sudden presence is sobering, to say the least, and I am so shocked that my wand falls from my hand.
He takes a step back and I see he is dressed only in a thin shirt and underpants. He winces as he steps on broken wood, and his voice is high with alarm. "What are you doing?" He gestures and the wand--my wand--flies to his hand.
I am staring at the traitorous stick of ebony in his fist, but I say in a voice approximating my usual aplomb, "I believe the Muggle term would be 'blowing off steam.'"
"By destroying everything in sight? Jeez, Snape, and this isn't even your classroom anymore!"
I had forgotten that. And as I trip on that thought, four other thoughts are vying for attention in my head. One is that Potter has got my wand and isn't it startling that he can not only Summon his own wand nonverbally, but mine, too? Two is that it may not matter whose classroom this is since there may very well not be a next term at Hogwarts. Three is that Argus must have brought him here, since it isn't possible to Apparate within the grounds.
Four is that under that thin shirt and underpants he is erect, and I wonder what activity he was in the midst of when he appeared here.
I quickly rotate back to thought Number One. "Your Summoning skills appear to go beyond even today's practice."
"I... you..." He hands the wand back to me stiffly. "Don't do that again," he scolds, his face red.
"Did you assume I'd gone on a traitorous rampage?"
"I didn't know what to think," he says. "You know, the charm works the other way, too. The chain works kind of like a portkey. Next time I could have it bring you to me, instead of the other way around."
Curiosity gets the better of me. "And why didn't you?"
He sputters, unable or unwilling to answer that. It dawns on him that the charm has no way to return him to his previous place, either, so he now faces the prospect of walking barefoot and half-clothed from the dungeon all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, or wherever he has taken up residence upon answering Minerva's call.
Mr. Potter, I realize the heat of summer must be unbearable for you to gallivant so... That and other snide possibilities come to mind as I turn and walk out of the classroom. But what I say is: "If you'd like to borrow a cloak, you may."
"Er... okay."
Thank Merlin he says nothing else, merely follows me back to my door. The shattered furniture within still mocks me. I hand Potter a black traveling cloak, Transfigure it short enough for him to wear without tripping on it, and slip it over his shoulders.
Now my face is red. Thought Number Four simply will not subside. "Good night, Mr. Potter," I say.
"Good night, Snape," he says, turning away and nearly fleeing barefoot down the corridor.
When he is gone I Banish the mess and pace in front of the hearth. I have learned to hide my thoughts from everyone, and my feelings from most. But this damned caretaker spell, if it really allows him to sense my emotions, how can I hide the fact that it has been years--years, I tell you--since I saw male flesh turgid in anticipation of pleasure? And that the sight of his...?
Merlin, this cannot be. But my brain does its own wondering, about who he was with. Or was he alone? "Blowing off steam" in his own way?
My hands clench into fists as I realize that if I seek any relief in that fashion he will know. He will sense it. I am mortified by the additional thought that if I become too excited, he may whisk me to wherever he is to scold me as he did earlier.
I am only making it worse. I grab a bottle of Ogdens' Old Firewhiskey from the shelf and pour myself a generous glass. I light a cool fire just for some visual distraction and stare into the flames in the grate as I gulp the whiskey down without tasting it. Albus Dumbledore is dead, but I am the one who is in hell.
--
[On to Chapter Four.]
