Hero Worship, Part 8 of 25
Nov. 16th, 2006 11:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenna_c_tanTitle: Hero Worship, Part 8/25
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Word Count: 36,901 total, 1190 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
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Hero Worship, Chapter Eight
Ravenna C. Tan
Using jinxes that will not cause harm, I begin teaching him to block more effectively. I can see he is burning to know how I was able to flick his attacks aside with such seeming ease.
We stand facing each other in the Room of Requirement, now empty but for a very large and well-padded rug, wands at the ready. "I already know your Shield Charm is quite strong," I say.
His eyebrows knot in puzzlement.
"From your Occlumency lessons." Why I reminded him of that just now, I do not know. I try to turn it into praise, as it is meant. "You were able to not only block my attempt at Legilimency, but you turned the spell on me."
His cheeks are pink but he does not sound angry when he says: "I remember."
"Humor me for demonstration's sake, though, and block the jinx I throw." I fling a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him with a flourish of my wand--making the attack obvious--and he blocks it, as I expected. "Your Shield Charm is both large and strong. It could block many hexes much worse than what I just cast. Now, if you knew this was only a Jelly-Legs Jinx, would you have flung up such a barrier?"
"Well, probably. I always do it that way."
"And it works. But if you always put so much into every one, you will have little time or energy left for counter-attacking, and you can be worn down easily by multiple opponents. If you can tailor your response based on what is coming, you can conserve energy."
"And demoralize your opponent." He smirks in a rather Slytherin way.
"Precisely."
"But how do you know how much to put into it? How do you tell?"
"This part, unfortunately, takes practice. There is no way to tell you what to do. It's something you will need to develop a feel for yourself, through repeated tries." I raise my wand. "Ready?"
We spend the better part of the next hour in practice, but the moment I make my wand movements more subtle and the jinxes more complex, he can only block me by reverting to the all-or-nothing approach. I know we've had enough when I catch him around the ankles with a Tripping Charm and he falls flat on his face. The rug saves him from serious harm, but his dignity is bruised.
I am torn between wanting to rush to his side to help him--which a certain voice in the back of my head is encouraging me strongly to do, anything to bring my body close to his--and not wanting to make it seem as if he needs the help. Surely he is humiliated enough. So I hang back.
He gets to his knees slowly and straightens his glasses. For a moment I think he is going to shout at me. But the moment passes, and he says instead, "Lockhart really didn't know what he was getting himself into with you." He chuckles.
I keep my smile inside as I go over to help him to his feet. "I think that's enough for now." His palm, like his hair, is damp with sweat.
It's the scent of him that undoes me. He looks up into my eyes and I hate, hate the thought that he knows what I am thinking. But his hand is still in mine, keeping me close.
"Why do you think we're getting along so much better today?" he nearly whispers.
"Because we've refrained from goading each other," I reply. "Much. And we have remained focused on our mutual goal." I yank my hand from his and turn away.
He wants to be the hero. "Snape, you can't tell me..."
"Stop. There is no situation, including the defeat of the Dark Lord, that justifies a sixteen-year-old..." putting his hands on the cock of... "touching a man old enough to be his father."
"But you need..."
"I'll take care of it myself, thank you." Lust is such a nuisance of an emotion, but at least it has a release valve. "Your assistance is not required."
"See that you do." His voice is sharp and I almost turn so I can see the expression on his face. "Tonight, Snape."
"Very well." I stand like a statue until I hear the door close behind him.
He does not appear at dinner and I eat sparingly but enough to prevent him making any unannounced visits to my chambers tonight. When I am alone by the fire in my study, though, I realize that if I do not get it over with, he may charge down here after all.
I undress and get into bed, though it is not yet half nine.
It is a long time since I've done this. Even as an adolescent I did not "polish the broom handle" nearly as often as the other boys in my dormitory. I have never liked the moment of blankness that comes with release, that feeling of losing one's self. The total vulnerability of it.
But I used to sometimes think about Evan, after he had left school and joined the Dark Lord. I used to imagine it was his hand, stealing toward me under the covers, cupping my balls briefly before taking a gentle hold on my foreskin. Evan had many flaws, but his technique and enthusiasm for erotic pursuits were not among them.
I slide my foreskin into my palm, as I try to remember what Evan's touch felt like. I am hardening as I imagine it, Evan's breath in my ear as he strokes me, as he coaxes me to my full length. The sheets rasp against the sensitive head of my cock, and I want to press up against him--but his hand is still moving, stroking, making me arch.
I was not there, the night he died, which was probably fortunate for me. I was new to the Death Eaters, still establishing myself in the Dark Lord's service, and my control was not as good as it is now. Lucius described it to me later, the gruesome things done to him, to punish Evan's father who was a Death Eater as well, for some failure. The elder Rosier had been forced not only to watch, but to participate in his son's destruction. Our trysts had ended when he left school, so a little time had passed, but I doubt at that time I could have hidden my feelings from the Dark Lord completely.
Damn him. My cock lies wilted in my fingers. I curl onto my side. I need an image that can erase the ones in my mind of Evan Rosier being tortured to death. Unfortunately, the one thing that burns brighter is the look on Albus' face as he begged me to go through with it.
I cannot do this. For two decades I have maintained a double-facade and it is what held me together. Now my masks are stripped away and there is no hiding from what I have done.
I calm myself with thoughts of teaching Potter. If he becomes frustrated with blocking practice, perhaps I will set up some moving targets for him to hex. And he must learn, at last, to Occlude. Soon.
I drift to sleep making a lesson plan for the next two weeks.
--
[Go on to chapter nine.]
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Word Count: 36,901 total, 1190 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
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Hero Worship, Chapter Eight
Ravenna C. Tan
Using jinxes that will not cause harm, I begin teaching him to block more effectively. I can see he is burning to know how I was able to flick his attacks aside with such seeming ease.
We stand facing each other in the Room of Requirement, now empty but for a very large and well-padded rug, wands at the ready. "I already know your Shield Charm is quite strong," I say.
His eyebrows knot in puzzlement.
"From your Occlumency lessons." Why I reminded him of that just now, I do not know. I try to turn it into praise, as it is meant. "You were able to not only block my attempt at Legilimency, but you turned the spell on me."
His cheeks are pink but he does not sound angry when he says: "I remember."
"Humor me for demonstration's sake, though, and block the jinx I throw." I fling a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him with a flourish of my wand--making the attack obvious--and he blocks it, as I expected. "Your Shield Charm is both large and strong. It could block many hexes much worse than what I just cast. Now, if you knew this was only a Jelly-Legs Jinx, would you have flung up such a barrier?"
"Well, probably. I always do it that way."
"And it works. But if you always put so much into every one, you will have little time or energy left for counter-attacking, and you can be worn down easily by multiple opponents. If you can tailor your response based on what is coming, you can conserve energy."
"And demoralize your opponent." He smirks in a rather Slytherin way.
"Precisely."
"But how do you know how much to put into it? How do you tell?"
"This part, unfortunately, takes practice. There is no way to tell you what to do. It's something you will need to develop a feel for yourself, through repeated tries." I raise my wand. "Ready?"
We spend the better part of the next hour in practice, but the moment I make my wand movements more subtle and the jinxes more complex, he can only block me by reverting to the all-or-nothing approach. I know we've had enough when I catch him around the ankles with a Tripping Charm and he falls flat on his face. The rug saves him from serious harm, but his dignity is bruised.
I am torn between wanting to rush to his side to help him--which a certain voice in the back of my head is encouraging me strongly to do, anything to bring my body close to his--and not wanting to make it seem as if he needs the help. Surely he is humiliated enough. So I hang back.
He gets to his knees slowly and straightens his glasses. For a moment I think he is going to shout at me. But the moment passes, and he says instead, "Lockhart really didn't know what he was getting himself into with you." He chuckles.
I keep my smile inside as I go over to help him to his feet. "I think that's enough for now." His palm, like his hair, is damp with sweat.
It's the scent of him that undoes me. He looks up into my eyes and I hate, hate the thought that he knows what I am thinking. But his hand is still in mine, keeping me close.
"Why do you think we're getting along so much better today?" he nearly whispers.
"Because we've refrained from goading each other," I reply. "Much. And we have remained focused on our mutual goal." I yank my hand from his and turn away.
He wants to be the hero. "Snape, you can't tell me..."
"Stop. There is no situation, including the defeat of the Dark Lord, that justifies a sixteen-year-old..." putting his hands on the cock of... "touching a man old enough to be his father."
"But you need..."
"I'll take care of it myself, thank you." Lust is such a nuisance of an emotion, but at least it has a release valve. "Your assistance is not required."
"See that you do." His voice is sharp and I almost turn so I can see the expression on his face. "Tonight, Snape."
"Very well." I stand like a statue until I hear the door close behind him.
He does not appear at dinner and I eat sparingly but enough to prevent him making any unannounced visits to my chambers tonight. When I am alone by the fire in my study, though, I realize that if I do not get it over with, he may charge down here after all.
I undress and get into bed, though it is not yet half nine.
It is a long time since I've done this. Even as an adolescent I did not "polish the broom handle" nearly as often as the other boys in my dormitory. I have never liked the moment of blankness that comes with release, that feeling of losing one's self. The total vulnerability of it.
But I used to sometimes think about Evan, after he had left school and joined the Dark Lord. I used to imagine it was his hand, stealing toward me under the covers, cupping my balls briefly before taking a gentle hold on my foreskin. Evan had many flaws, but his technique and enthusiasm for erotic pursuits were not among them.
I slide my foreskin into my palm, as I try to remember what Evan's touch felt like. I am hardening as I imagine it, Evan's breath in my ear as he strokes me, as he coaxes me to my full length. The sheets rasp against the sensitive head of my cock, and I want to press up against him--but his hand is still moving, stroking, making me arch.
I was not there, the night he died, which was probably fortunate for me. I was new to the Death Eaters, still establishing myself in the Dark Lord's service, and my control was not as good as it is now. Lucius described it to me later, the gruesome things done to him, to punish Evan's father who was a Death Eater as well, for some failure. The elder Rosier had been forced not only to watch, but to participate in his son's destruction. Our trysts had ended when he left school, so a little time had passed, but I doubt at that time I could have hidden my feelings from the Dark Lord completely.
Damn him. My cock lies wilted in my fingers. I curl onto my side. I need an image that can erase the ones in my mind of Evan Rosier being tortured to death. Unfortunately, the one thing that burns brighter is the look on Albus' face as he begged me to go through with it.
I cannot do this. For two decades I have maintained a double-facade and it is what held me together. Now my masks are stripped away and there is no hiding from what I have done.
I calm myself with thoughts of teaching Potter. If he becomes frustrated with blocking practice, perhaps I will set up some moving targets for him to hex. And he must learn, at last, to Occlude. Soon.
I drift to sleep making a lesson plan for the next two weeks.
--
[Go on to chapter nine.]
