Disclaimer: Not mine! Not making a penny!
Disclaimer # 2 Angst. A/U - HBP Era. Sirius didn't die. Horace is at the school. SS is teaching DADA and Albus' hand is just fine. Slash. Non-Con. We'll see what other squicky things Not-Willing-to-Admit is Willing-to-Do-to-the-Boys.
Dark eyes, their closely held secrets hidden behind a shock of oily, black hair that framed his sallow face. Some people might view their hair as a crowning glory; not this boy. He used his hair as armor, a subtle way of keeping others at arms' length from him.
But, who, in their right mind, would want to be close to him?
What with his black clothes, his arrogant sneer, his long, unkempt hair?
The boy smelled… not, as the unkind would automatically think, of unwashed flesh, sweat and grime, but of the various constituent elements and compounds of his trade. He had never found the smell of the boy off-putting; rather he found it reassuring. It was who he was, part of the man the young boy had become, intense, smoky, and bittersweet.
His hands were scarred, crisscrossed with old burns, and stained from the art of potion making. Normally, they were graceful and accomplished, yet last night…
Last night, those skilled hands had been hesitant, diffident. The boy's sharp tongue had been stilled, his bitter mouth surprisingly honey smooth and sweet.
He was cold, aloof, remote, but last night, he had been so desperate to touch someone, to physically love another person that he hadn't worried if the price to be paid for affection would be coin of his own pain.
The boy anticipated the physical pain, expected it, and deemed it of no consequence, compared to his overwhelming need.
And so the older man's defenses had weakened to the point where he had foolishly agreed to take the boy to his bed. Taking his time, he tried to teach the boy that there could be… pleasure… for him, that life was sometimes too full of pain, but there could be joy also.
And the student had been utterly unprepared for an experience where his needs were paramount.
His voice, normally so caustic, so acerbic and harsh, had softened into low, pleading moans and soft gasps of astonished delight.
Alas, the teacher had also been unprepared when the student, believing him sleeping, had softly whispered the most closely held secret of his heart.
He would never have touched the boy if he had any inkling of the depths of the boy's feelings. The war Albus fought did not permit him the chance to love, especially one who so needed affection and devotion. Furious with himself for such a colossal misstep, Albus realized too far late that boy thought Albus' anger was directed toward him due to his accidental slip of the tongue.
But those dark, hooded eyes which saw everything and revealed nothing in their inky depths… had been despairing… surprised… loving… adoring…last night… and this morning… they had been loving... destroyed… horrified… mortified… after the words that had to be spoken, were uttered.
This was a mistake.
Four simple words, spoken gently and tenderly, dare Albus say…spoken lovingly… but still crushing the heartbroken soul of the man who received them.
The devastated man-child had regained his emotional poise with a Herculean effort that Albus knew had cost him everything in his soul.
He had turned away from everything he had believed in because of love, and now, twice devoted, twice rejected, twice heartbroken, Severus Snape had returned to the Death Eaters.
Albus Dumbledore stood in the wreckage of Severus Snape's destroyed chambers and cursed the results of his physical and emotional weaknesses of the previous evening. The boy had left in a hurry, everything was overturned, his drawers were messing, having been rummaged through in great haste… His mind remarked on the incongruity. Severus Snape had been neat to a fault, anal….every i dotted, every t crossed… but… his quarters looked like a tornado had wrecked havoc.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and Albus simply could not realize what it was. All he could focus on was his anger as this situation was his fault, and his alone.
"Filius, we will need to examine everything. Find out what he took, what he didn't take, find the pattern," Albus instructed the Charms Instructor. "Box everything."
He stormed toward the door, pausing before he exited.
"Merlin's beard, Filius, removing those damn Dark Marks from the walls is your first order of business. Remus Lupin will be arriving shortly. He will need suitable quarters, and I do not believe that he will enjoy Severus' recent renovations."
The spy gave his report in dry, clinical, dispassionate tones; hiding his horror over what atrocities in which he had partaken. His normal, rigid posture was gone; instead, the boy was exhausted, slumped in the chair, his dark hair hiding his eyes.
"And so…that is how the Dark Lord and his closest acquaintances celebrated Christmas," Severus dryly remarked. "A very merry time was had by all… except for those… less… fortunate…"
"You have done well, and lives will be saved with the information you have given me" Albus assured him. "Since you missed Christmas dinner, I asked the House elves to keep some ready for you."
The boy barked a laugh.
Dry, self-hating, mocking, the laugh was a harsh sound that echoed in Albus' office. Fawkes crooned a soft sound, attempting to ease the boy's soul ache.
"Yes, I must have my Christmas goose and stuffing," Severus dryly retorted.
Severus only picked at the food, nibbling only out of a sense of politeness and duty. He flatly refused afters, and then Albus handed him a brightly wrapped Christmas gift.
"Thank you for your gift, Severus. The complete writings of Merlin on the value of education? I fear you are trying to tell me something," Albus gently teased. "Here is my gift to you."
Severus winced at the loud, garish green wrapping paper complete with the mandatory silver snakes that wiggled and hissed when they encountered the silver bow, obviously hand wrapped by Albus as there was a crinkle in the wrap. Considering he was one of the most powerful wizards known to humankind, it was amusing that Albus always insisted on hand wrapping his presents.
"Thank you for the socks and scarf, Albus," Severus stated quietly.
"You peeked!" Albus protested.
Severus gave the Head Master a long, lingering glance, his dark eyes unreadable.
"You always give me socks and scarves, Albus. Green, silver, green and silver adorned with mortars and pestles, snakes and caduceuses. You simply refuse to grasp the concept that I do not like your taste in socks, and will not wear those outlandish scarves. I believe that Minerva is the only one that has ever worn any of your gifts."
"Alas, I know, but every year, I still endeavor in my fruitless task to keep my staff warm and dry, my boy," Albus teased. "Christmas is a time for presents, irregardless if the recipient shares one's taste in socks and scarves."
The exhausted boy emotionally collapsed then, and Albus reached for him, holding him, rocking him, murmuring soft words of comfort until Severus' tears stopped and his grief for those innocents who had died on Christmas had been released. The boy clung to him, like a man drowning clings to anything that might keep him afloat, even for little longer.
Then to Albus' utter surprise, Severus kissed him.
It was a slow, hesitant kiss, and when Albus did not respond, Severus pulled away from him, intently staring at a blank spot on the wall. His shoulders were slumped, his dark hair hiding his eyes, as though he expected Albus to strike him for his impudence.
"I could make it… good… for you," Severus whispered, stressing those words as though they were of utmost importance.
Good for me, Albus sadly thought. Not good for Severus, not good for the two of us, but merely good for me.
"No, I must refuse your most kind and generous offer, Severus," Albus kindly responded.
"I have been assured that I am quite… skilled," Severus softly offered, his voice distressed. "My techniques could give you… intensive pleasure…"
The Potions Master was still staring at the wall, too terrified to actually look Albus in the eyes when he propositioned him.
Albus mentally winced, and once more, refused Severus' offer.
"Forgive me, Albus. I should not have asked, as I knew that you would be… repulsed," Severus softly confessed. "But I had dared to hope."
"Not repulsed, my dear boy. Startled, yes, unbelievably flattered, yes, but not sickened," assured Albus.
Dumbledore offered Severus some fire whisky and the boy drank four fingers in a single gulp. The Slytherin held out his glass, and after a brief moment of indecision, Albus poured more for him. That was swallowed quickly, and Severus held out his glass again.
"No," Albus stated quietly. "No more for you, Severus."
"No more what? Whisky? No more whisky?" Severus questioned; his voice oddly intense.
"No more whisky, Severus. You are in fey mood tonight, and I do not think adding more whisky to your volatile mood will be helpful."
The boy sighed, as though in relief. The Potions Master leaned forward in his chair, and he placed his hands in his hair, clenching large clumps in his fists.
"Head Master, may I ask a question?" The Voice, as Albus had entitled Severus' voice, was halting, uncertain, so unlike its usual timbre.
"You may, Severus, but I reserve the right to refuse to answer," Albus answered.
Snape's fingers in his hair clenched and unclenched, and then clenched again, while his shoulders tightened.
"If I was that damnable cur Sirius Black… would you have agreed to spend the night with me?" was his soft question.
"Sirius?" Albus questioned, uncertain if he had heard correctly.
"If I was your golden boy, would you let me pleasure you? If I was … that damnable Golden Boy… the Boy that Lived while his Late, Unlamented Mother Died for Him… would you still reject me thus? I could give you such… delight…Albus…I have been... praised...for my skill. You would have... no... complaints..."
The desperation in Severus' voice frightened the Head Master. Truly, the boy was a tad touched tonight.
"Severus… please…" protested Albus.
"I've given you my honor. My word… I've given everything of value to you, Albus…but you don't love me like you do your golden Gryffindors. I spy for you…I do such horrible, horrible things… for you…while my soul screams and screams… Now, I only have one object left to give you…my body… and you won't take it. I know… I'm… dirty… and soiled… but if I was Lupin? When he tried to kill me, you gave me detention. Not Black, but I was punished because you wanted to protect Lupin."
The boy was in tears, and Albus reached for his shoulder. He touched Severus gently, and the boy looked at him. His dark eyes were not hidden by his hair for once, and they were full of horror.
"I wouldn't be afraid if it was you. You could do anything to me, anything you wanted. Just for tonight, for a Christmas gift…" Severus spat those words like they were a blood curse. "Couldn't you close your eyes and pretend that I'm one of your beloved Gryffindors? Make believe that you see me as human… as something besides your tool? Can you not spare some affection for me? Have I not earned it? Have I not paid for my crimes in blood and grief?"
The dark haired Slytherin just stared at Albus, and the boy opened his mind to him. The onslaught of Severus' overwhelming need nearly unmanned Albus, as Albus could hear, feel, sense an emotionally shattered Severus mentally shrieking how he was cursed and damned.
USE ME. USE ME. ALBUS, CONSUME ME! I GIVE EVERYTHING TO YOU AND DO SO WILLINGLY!
"You're a Legilimens, Albus," Severus pleaded. "Read my mind. You could do anything to me, just don't turn me away. Not tonight, I beg of you."
I AM ICE.
I BLEED TO DEATH FROM THE PAIN. STAY WITH ME, WARM ME.
I COULD MAKE IT SO GOOD FOR YOU!
"Easy…. Easy…" Albus whispered. "Just for tonight."
He kissed Severus on the top of his head, and the boy began to weep.
He had wanted this for so long, having fantasized of being in Albus' bed ever since he was a student, dreaming of proving to Albus how sexually skilled he was, and now that it was happening, Severus couldn't perform. Nervous as a virgin, unexpectedly and awkwardly unsure of where his elbows and knees should go, Severus panicked, overwhelmed by shame and fear.
And Albus didn't mock him, ridicule and scorn Severus' feeble attempts at caressing him.
Instead, Dumbledore was… gentle… with him.
He was so cold… always so cold and alone… and Albus was a white, hot flame… holding him… touching him… driving away the bitter, aching loneliness that sapped his strength, replacing it with gentle warmth.
Dumbledore's nimble fingers were touching and caressing him, and to his shame, his body quickly shuddered out its climax under Albus' touch. He had control… Severus had learned it at the not so gentle hands of Lucius and Goyle… and Crabbe…but Albus' hands had been so… so... agile that he could not help but respond thus. He was just so humiliated… Severus closed his eyes, and wished he was elsewhere… anywhere but lying in Albus' bed, his clothes wet from his embarrassingly quick climax.
Albus kissed him on his mouth, and began to undress him. Severus protested… wanting to reassure Albus that he'd do much better next time…that he would ensure that Albus got his own pleasure… but Albus put his warm fingers over Severus' lips to silence him.
"Shh… let me clean you."
"Please… don't Scourgify me," Severus begged, biting his tongue to prevent himself from adding, "Like your golden Gryffindors did to me, time and time again while you turned a blind eye to their cruelties."
"Soap and water," Albus reassured him.
So he lay in Albus' bed while the Head Master cleaned and washed him, using a soapy flannel and warm water. Albus took his time, slowly and deliberately, ignoring Severus' plaintive pleas to please let Severus pleasure him. He was so weak… so cold… and Albus' teasing hands were so gentle and kind…
He was drifting, drowsy, content, and warm when he felt Albus' mouth on his cock... Albus' hands were holding his hands and Severus trembled and shook as that damnable, whimsical Dumbledore teased and taunted, driving him mad with desire, bringing him so close to climax, then cooling him down, over and over again. It had never been like for this before for Severus, for his bed partner to be so considerate of… him
"Please… please…" he whimpered, as he thrashed and moaned in Albus' bed.
"Not yet, not yet," Albus insisted.
His entire world only consisted of pleasure
Albus' mouth, his tongue, his teeth and how Albus teased, sucked, taunted, nibbled and nipped, the feel of Albus' beard against his inner thighs, how tightly Albus was holding his hands.
He came again… shuddering… even as Albus sucked and swallowed… After Albus had coaxed the last shudder from his quaking body, Severus had hesitantly kissed him, and Severus tasted himself on the Head Master's lips.
"I'm so sorry, Albus… I'm so sorry," he pleaded, after they broke apart. "Forgive me…"
"Why are you asking for my forgiveness, Severus?" Albus softly questioned, his normally whimsical voice, surprisingly serious. "You wanted to pleasure me, and the only way I can take enjoyment in this is if my partner is completely satisfied also."
"Take me," Severus requested. "Top me, please."
He hated being the bottom, as Lucius and his cronies were cruel and sadistic, uncaring if those lying underneath them were properly prepared. But for Albus, he'd bottom, for Albus… he'd do anything. If Albus hurt him, he'd take it; savor the agony and the ecstasy, for it was ALBUS' gift to him. "Don't you want to top me?" Albus gently inquired. "This is your Christmas gift, after all, and I want you to enjoy it far more than a pair of garish socks that you'll never wear."
Severus shook his head, refusing to even debate that issue. As this night had proven in spades, he wasn't in control. If he hurt Albus in his clumsiness, even accidentally, he'd hate himself forever.
"I trust you," Albus assured him. "I know you wouldn't hurt me, and I'd enjoy it."
He could and would willingly drown in Albus' blue eyes, blue as the sky, and Severus again refused.
"Very well, I'll top. But I must ensure that you're properly prepared for it."
Albus took his time, like he promised. Many kisses were first deliberately applied and then lots of lubricant, before the older wizard gently rubbed his finger tip over Severus' sensitive opening.
Severus nonverbally cast a Relaxing spell before Albus started to gently finger him. One finger, slowly…and then a pause.
It was wonderful, feeling Albus inside of him, and Severus collected his scattered thoughts long enough to start casting a Free from Pain spell. He didn't want to cry out in pain when Albus topped him, because it always hurt…
Albus interrupted him, distracting him from his spell casting.
"Don't cast, Severus. If you need magic to get you through this, then it's not good for you," Albus protested.
And so he had to agree before Albus would continue.
Severus fled from Albus' quarters, ashamed, horrified, and mortified. His black robes billowed behind him, as he stormed to his rooms, delighted that no one saw him running like a fear struck child. Under one arm, there was Albus' Christmas gift to him, still unopened. Albus had stopped him before he made his escape, gently chastising him for not taking his Christmas gift with him, and so, not knowing what else to do, Severus had grabbed it.
He had cocked everything up.
Albus had been so good to him, and he had to blurt out something best left unsaid.
Albus was thrusting slowly inside him, nudging his prostate with each thrust, even while his Albus' hand squeezed and teased his erection. It felt so good… so unlike his previous bottomings… There was no pain, just a slowly spreading mix of warmth and desire. Dumbledore's thrusts began to speed up, Albus' physical need crescendoing until at last; Albus pounded out his release, taking Severus to the very brink and then beyond, before they collapsed into a happy jumble of limbs.
And that… as thought that wasn't enough… Albus had kissed him, cuddled with him, holding him, murmuring soft words to him.
It was heaven, and so when Severus believed that Albus was asleep, Severus hesitantly touched his lover's face, ran his fingers through his beard, and then whispered two words that he should never have dared to say out loud.
…love you…
For he would
…for he did
…for he had
Albus' eyes had opened then, merely shamming that he was sleeping and instead of their usual sky blue eyes, they were as dark blue as the ocean in winter, cold and austere.
Frightened, Severus had fled from Albus' bed then, and Albus had prevented him leaving his bedchamber.
Then Albus said those four words that caused Severus' world to shatter.
This was a mistake.
Severus had reacted instinctively, refusing to let Albus see how much those few words, so uncaringly spoken, had hurt him. He shut down his emotions, and calmly agreed that it was a terrible mistake and that he knew that Albus could never love him. He had requested to leave, and Albus had pushed those damn socks and scarf off on him. Wanting to flee, needing to lick his wounds, Severus had taken them.
He entered his quarters, and barricaded the doors. Uncertain what to do, he carefully opened Albus' present, wanting to see what Albus had given him, one of the last presents Albus would ever give him.
Why, why, why did he have to admit his love to Albus?Albus had saved Severus from himself so many times, always giving him another chance… and… he had loved him for it. All those years ago, a bedraggled, grubby little boy had stared with heartfelt longing at those Golden Gryffindors, wishing that the Headmaster cared for a dirty, unkempt, terribly lonely Slytherin brat as much as he did his Golden Boys.
Hysterical laughter bubbled forth, and he savagely suppressed it.
The socks were hideous. Emerald green with silver snakes playing Quidditch, and the scarf matched. He was still staring at them when he heard a knock on his door.
"Severus, I need to speak to you," Albus ordered. "I know you're in there. There's an important matter that we need to discuss."
Having no choice in the matter, he opened the door. Albus pushed his way into his rooms and then unexpectedly turned his wand on him. The Head Master hexed him quickly, even as Severus grabbed for his own wand.
Petrificus Totalus! OBSCURO!
Severus fell to the ground, his mind screaming a counter hex, when Albus hit him with another hex. He couldn't think - all he could do was glibber in terror.
Why was Albus doing this? If Albus wanted to Obliverate the memory, he didn't need to do this!
"Severus… Severus… the Dark Lord is exceedingly displeased with you."
"Albus" opened Severus mouth and not so gently stuffed one of the Albus' ugly Christmas socks into his mouth, and then turned around to look at Snape's quarters.
"Looks like you're quitting your cushy job here, Sev," stated "Albus". "Time to burn this bridge. I think Albus will be quite horrified when he sees that you decided to paint the Dark Mark in your quarters. So the question is; how will our noble Albus react when he realizes that his little tame Death Eater has decided to fly the coop?"