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Title: Hero Worship, Part 15/25
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Word Count: 36,901 total, 1349 this part
Disclaimer: This is non-commercial fanfiction. Trademarked characters are used for non-commercial purposes.
Beta: [livejournal.com profile] miraba, [livejournal.com profile] jordangrant
Author's Note: A gift for [livejournal.com profile] 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, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen




Hero Worship, Chapter Fifteen
by Ravenna C. Tan




Potter and I eat side by side in the Great Hall that night. I follow him in, sit on his right, and follow him out without saying a word. There are few enough people present; no one seems to notice my behavior.

I follow him across the entrance hall, and he takes the stairs toward the dungeons. My stomach twists with dread even as other parts of me awaken in anticipation. The time has come for him to take care of my so-called needs.

I pause on the threshold of my own door. He turns and sees my hesitation.

"What's wrong?"

I force myself to follow him into the room. I've agreed to this. I need not think about whether I am going through with it or not. The course is set.

These are of course the exact words I've told myself for years, whenever I've had to do something to maintain my cover. The very words that went through my mind each time I cast Cruciatus in the Dark Lord's name, and each time I questioned Albus' orders to kill him. I chide myself for needing to steel myself for pleasure as if it were Unforgivable.

I wonder how we should do this, what I should say, or do... then I remember it is not my responsibility to worry about this things. It is his. I stand quiet in the center of the rug, my hands folded.

He sits in the overstuffed chair and looks at me. He props his chin with one elbow on the armrest, which gives him a glum aspect. "I said you could choose morning or night, so if you want me to come back in the morning, I will."

I shake my head. It will be no less mortifying to have the hand of one of my former students on my cock in the morning than it is now. My penis throbs softly under my robes in anticipation. Yes, how quickly we become conditioned to new routines.

"My neck is getting stiff looking up at you."

I settle at his feet with my hand on the armrest. His gaze is thoughtful. "You don't have to sit down there, you know," he says.

"It's easier for me," I say. "To remember." To remember that I submitted to these terms willingly and that if I fight them, I lose face. This is about regaining my self-control, after all.

"Ah." He reaches his hand out then and strokes my hair. I am sure Argus tells him the feelings that brings up in me, both good and bad. "Don't fight it," he whispers.

"I'm not," I say, pressing my forehead to his knee.

"You did well with Vance," he says. "At least, I assume so, since there have been no explosions and he was seen leaving Hogwarts in one piece."

"Yes."

"And that was extremely clever of you, to combine an Occlumency lesson with a dueling lesson, earlier. I'll always remember those spells now."

I let myself relax into his caress when he says that. Perhaps Argus tells him enough that he understands. "You deserve a reward, Severus."

The way he says my name causes gooseflesh to rise across my back again. Part of me says I didn’t consent to this much intimacy. That was not part of the terms. But I am craving his approval and his comfort more than my safety at this moment.

I never expected to feel comfort like this again.

"Will you take off your clothes?" he asks, and I nearly laugh. Does he not realize he's already forced me beyond my usual boundaries of propriety, just by saying my name? I remember his comment on the Order's group dynamics. Using someone's first name is supposed to mean you like them.

To me it feels invasive. But it should. I should ignore it, and I do. "Of course," I reply, standing up to undo the buttons on my long frock.

"And would it be all right if we went into the bedroom?"

"I have no objections," I tell him, as I fold my robes over the back of another chair, then sit in it to loosen my boots. I do not point out that he has been in there already, uninvited.

When I look at him next, I am denuded and he is blushing, there in his little throne by the fireplace. We are both erect, though I am more visible, obviously.

"Turn around," he says. "Please." I wonder just how much of my time with Evan he's seen and how much of this is purely his own invention. With Evan the "please" was a formality, a subtle reminder that I had a choice, but very much a command.

The fact that he is exactly the age that Evan was when I last did this sort of thing is not lost on me, either.

Then he is standing, his shoulder against my collarbone as his hand slides over my balls. Even when he is fully grown, he will not reach my height. I bury my nose in his hair as he fondles me and turns my breath ragged. He pulls me onto the settle, the idea of the bedroom apparently discarded for now. Then he holds me still with one hand on my chest, while with the other he gently touches my foreskin.

I shudder. He is looking at my penis like it is some exotic creature. With two fingers he rolls the foreskin down, bit by bit, exposing the dewy head.

"Yours curves straight," he says.

"How can something that curves be straight?" I say, wondering why he has made me and not one of his dorm mates the subject of his zoological exploration.

"I mean, mine goes off to the left, but yours is centered. It curves toward your belly and not to the side."

Ah. "That is because of what you wear. Your clothes push you to one side. It's perfectly norm..." He clasps his hand around me, and rubs the knuckle of his index finger under the tender cleft.

He soon switches to pulling on my foreskin, stroking my full length with the soft flesh. There is no need for the slippery elm like this, and if I had not seen that image of him masturbating face down and thrusting his hips I'd think this was his preferred way of doing himself.

But it is still hard for me to come like this, in his hand. Arousing and pleasurable as it might be, it is still hard to let go.

"Just relax," he tells me. "My arm isn't tired." He adds a twist to his motion and murmurs more encouragement into my ear, and I finally go over the edge.

Again he stands up in that moment when I go blank, and steps out of my reach. "Very good," he says, but the words feel empty, as he hastens to leave. "I'll see you in the morning."

And then he is gone and I curse myself for feeling bereft. This is why I do not normally grow close to people. The thought burns me again, of whom he is rushing off to, now that he is assured of being able to come himself. His friends and the Weasley girl he was friendly with are with their parents for the time-being. There are very few Order members that I can picture as being Potter's type. Perhaps he is merely off to wank alone, instead of doing it in front of a man old enough to be his father.

I remind myself that it was not long ago that his main feeling toward me was loathing. That he appears to have some respect for me now does not change that. Nonetheless, I find it painful that he has rebuffed my efforts to reciprocate twice. He has done his job as guardian and perhaps that is all I can expect.

I reinforce my plan to try to dig deeper into his memory, to find out whom he fantasizes about while wanking. I am jealous, and I know so. Tomorrow's lesson is planned.

--

[Go on to chapter sixteen.]


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