Red Room of Pain
Warnings: Canon up to OOTP. Voldemort is defeated by Harry's 6th year. Slash (it means male X male pairing). Sexual content. Slight BDSM. Blood-play. Violence. Mentions of Addiction. Dark Themes. Language. Harry is 17. My longest one-shot in history.
Rating: A High-M (It means it contains some vivid descriptions of stuff and what-not)… as close as possible to site rules without compromising a lot of details.
Disclaimer: If I did own Harry Potter, Snarry would not be either AU or OOC.
Author's Notes: Welcome to another Snarry offering from my humble and twisted mind. I've given fair warning I guess, but just in case, this is slash. Don't like it? Mind your own business. Dare you proceed? Enjoy. Do not forget to give me feedback!
Soundtrack: Give Your Heart a Break. You'll know why after reading.
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Pleasure and Pain are brothers; you cannot recognize one without the other -~~~
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The full moon loomed over the mammoth structure that was Hogwarts Castle, shining brightly. A spray of stars dotted the inky black sky –the perfect backdrop for practically almost anything.
A gentle breeze danced through the nearby grove of dead white oak trees. The leaves swayed as the branches bowed to the silent symphony. Together, they made a picturesque scene –one to be admired, looking out the window, when one could not so much as catch forty winks in the middle of the night.
But this particular part of the dungeons did not have any windows, charmed or not, so no view could possibly distract one Severus Snape from his current bout of insomnia –not that he could actually let himself fall asleep anyway.
It was one of those nights yet again.
If there was one thing that the dour Potions Master regretted in his life the most, he would be pressed hard to tell if you asked him when term began some five months ago.
Now, if you asked him, he'd tell you that it is his unwavering sense of moral obligation to one Harry James Potter aka the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Drive-him-to-an-Early-Grave.
It was one of those nights back in September that made Severus curse the day that he made that promise to protect Lily Potter's boy.
Since that brat had set foot in the magical world, Severus had been kept on his toes trying to keep James Potter's spawn away from mortal peril; he had been set aflame, bitten by a three-headed dog, maimed, yet again by a fully-transformed werewolf, exposed as a Death Eater, humiliated through his memories, cursed… and yet, it seemed to have never been enough.
No, not for the Gryffindor Golden Boy, it wasn't. And Severus could only think of what more could he lose, what more could be asked of him in fulfillment of his duty to Harry Potter, savior of wizard-kind.
The 37-year old rose from the rustic sienna leather armchair he had been seated in for the last hour. Before that, he tried to catch a few hours of sleep on his bed to no avail. He had done nothing but toss and turn, twisted amongst his green satin sheets, still fully clothed as he was when he left half-way through dinner earlier that night.
He was now pacing the length of his private study when the clock on his mantelpiece chimed once.
It was one in the morning.
It was time.
Severus stopped pacing, a strange look crossing his pallid countenance briefly, before schooling it back to its usual passiveness. He drew his thick midnight cloak closer around his shivering form. The dungeons were always coldest at night, no matter the presence of a lit fire, which was conspicuously absent at that moment.
But nights like these were especially cold to Severus.
He crossed the room in three strides to get to the entrance to his quarters. The air was decidedly more frigid along the stone-lined corridors. Severus did not bother to light the torches that lined the walls to his destination; the route was already ingrained in his senses and he knew and could negotiate the dungeons better than anyone else –even the ghosts- with both his eyes closed.
He descended a little-known flight of stairs by the end of the Potions corridor. It was concealed by a hanging tapestry depicting the Crucifixion in gory detail. It led to an even lesser known part of the castle.
There was a whole level beneath the dungeons, aptly named the Catacombs. It was as cavernous as the Great Hall, comprised of a maze of 'secret rooms' and antechambers filled nothing but dust and cobwebs –well, most of it anyway. During the Spanish Inquisition, hundreds of 'heretics were tortured and left for dead during the brief siege when the wards of the castle fell and it succumbed to the onslaught of invading muggle forces for 5 horrific months. It was restored to the Wizarding World by Mergene the Magnanimous after a blood bath that killed thousands.
The Potions Master felt chills against his spine whenever he approached this ill-forgotten part of Hogwarts as it is –the horrible history it had, certainly did not help matters.
The main antechamber of the Catacombs was a narrow hall of 3 feet by 8 feet by 13 feet. Two facing doors dotted the end of the hallway; tonight, like any other night, he headed for the one to his right.
The air in this level was damp and musky, as this area was directly below the Great lake. The plain wooden door creaked open and shut close behind the man with a resounding 'thud.'
Deep within the bowels of Hogwarts Castle, where its magic was most concentrated, Severus Snape will attempt, yet again, magic –like no one has seen him do before.
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It started with the nightmares.
Even with Voldemort's death some months ago could not stop those terrible illusions from filling his head, night and day.
But it always became worse at night, when everyone but the innate magic of Hogwarts was asleep. Sadly, not even She can protect him now.
He then began to detach himself from the rest of them. Ginny was the first to go, then Quidditch, then finally, Ron and Hermione. No matter how he tried, he just could not blame anyone but himself; not Voldemort, not the Death Eaters, not the Dursleys, not even Dumbledore and his machinations.
In his head, his pitiful existence was his own doing.
He was alone and miserable.
But that was five months ago.
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He had his invisibility cloak that night, as he did whenever he took one of these late night trips around the castle. For some reason, he felt comforted by the gentle moon light streaming through the huge cathedral windows –it was almost as if Selene herself was blessing him with her powers. He felt safe, untouchable, even.
His Gryffindor-issued pajamas barely reached the heels of his bare feet, but he could not care any less. The frigid autumn air was a welcome respite from the numbness he was feeling. An hour of travailing along the corridors leading to the library and his toes were blue; his lips were purple and his eyes, glazed over. He knew he was awake, but that did not stop the visions.
They have found him again.
Blood –even the grass was covered in thick, crimson liquid as he waded across the onslaught of bodies: fighting, losing, dying, bodies. He ran and ran until his eyes burned no more with those horrible images, until his feet hurt so much that he could seriously contemplate on having them amputated.
"Potter!"
Every one turned to him.
"Potter!"
'Please, no more!'
"Potter! Harry!"
'Stop! I need to get away!"
"Harry Potter! For the love of Merlin, wake up you idiot!"
And he did.
He glanced around. The visions have departed. It was dark, damp, cold and musty. The only glimmer of light he could see came from the pair of obsidian eyes directly above his face.
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The pair of emerald irises opened and Severus was at once assaulted with that, which could make even the most hardened Death Eater retch. He had seen the boy wander into the dungeons while he was on patrol and was itching to tell him off and dock a copious amount of points from Gryffindor. But before he could even call his attention, the brat ran past him, eyes glazed over –like in a trance.
The boy easily traversed the dungeons and to Severus' surprise, headed straight for the entrance to the Catacombs. 'Surely, the boy, for all his late-night excursions could not know of the lower levels,' the Potions Master told himself. 'I doubt even Albus knows.'
But breach the entrance, the boy did. And Severus decided that it was enough. He yelled after Potter –even resorting to calling the boy by his given name.
"Potter! Harry!"
And Potter woke up from the trance.
"He- help me, Professor!"
Severus would not forget how young and broken that voice sounded. The brat's eyes were still glazed over.
"Potter, what is going on with you?"
"P- pain, sir…"
The Potions Master frowned, his eyes darkening.
"Are you in pain? Where?"
The boy moaned rather pitifully.
"No, sir… please… pain… I n-need –I need to h-hurt…"
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A/N: I'm giving you one last time to hit the back button… No? Well, don't say I didn't warn you. Mature scenes ahead! Slash! Dark themes! If you flame or report me for this, then you're an a**. Kidding. Carry on, then…
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As it was 5 months ago and every full moon thereafter, Severus Snape found himself pushed roughly against the damp stone walls of the lone Catacomb chamber that was still in use. And before he could even let out so much as a whimper due to the pain, a pair of eager lips sealed his own mouth shut. When it had happened for the first time, that chilly night of September, his first instinct had been to throw off the boy and demand an explanation. But something that night and in those deepest recesses of Hogwarts stirred an inexplicable feeling of carnal desire within the normally stoic man's loins.
The lips on his were now demanding entry into the hot cavern of his mouth, biting the minty, tender flesh until it drew blood. Severus licked his lips.
"Isn't it my turn now, Harry?"
The hungry kisses left him as the darkness of the room gave way to the dim lighting of candles floating above their heads. The deep orange flickered, illuminating the emerald irises of the boy –no, young man.
Harry's eyes were glazed over as they always were during nights like these –nights of the full moon.
"Hurt me, Sev, break me –break me like the last time…"
A verbal reminder of their last encounter was all that it took.
The torture chamber of the catacombs were dusty, but still in pristine condition. Severus drew his ebony wand from the pocket of his voluminous robes and summoned the chains from where they had left it the last time.
"Against the wall, Harry. The moment these go on, until I finish, you will do whatever I say."
A shaky nod.
"Safe word?"
Severus snapped on the thick, leather bands on the younger man's constantly bruised wrists and chaffed ankles. He smirked as he surveyed his handiwork.
"I think not. Pain is never safe. Not tonight, pet." He whispered seductively against the bound man's ear. The voice was low and sinful like a fine-tuned cello. It was enough to make Harry purr. Another wave of a wand and the younger man's pale taut flesh was exposed to the cold air. The chains rattled as the emerald-eyed lad tried to get as comfortable as he could possibly get being naked and tied up. Severus merely looked on. A number of scars and bruises littered the lithe body, some silver and aged over time –souvenirs from Harry's muggle uncle and cousin; some, still crimson and tender, no doubt from last month. Severus frowned.
"Have you not been using the balm I gave you?"
Harry's eyes shone.
"I couldn't –I –I wanted to keep them…"
Severus smiled to himself.
"Time will come where there will be no more place left for me to mark you, pet. Use the balm after tonight or I will refuse to touch you until you do so."
"Yes, sir."
With an assurance to take care of the blemishes littering his young body, the Potions Master began his ritual. A thick wooden paddle was summoned. A flick of a wand and the chains were elongated, allowing Harry a wider range of movement.
"Turn around, pet. Hands on the wall. I want to see that nice and pert little bum of yours turn red."
A noiseless gulp and a clicking of the chains and the young man was in the demanded position. A pale, potions-stained hand caressed a creamy globe before attacking it with the wooden implement.
Harry would bite his already tender lips each time the paddle connected with his pale flesh to prevent himself from screaming –but it wasn't enough to hold back the whimpers.
"Is that whimpering I hear, slave?" Severus' voice cut through the sound of angry smacks.
"N-no Master." A shaky tenor responded, blood coating his tongue.
"What do you want?"
"Pain, please, more pain, Master."
The paddle was tossed aside as the chains shifted around the young man's reddened, sweaty, naked form.
"Face me, slave,"
Harry's glossy green eyes met the Potions Master's deep onyx ones. Severus let out an almost inaudible sigh. A wave of his wand summoned a small silver dagger. He caught the ornate handle deftly in his left hand.
"One wrong move, slave…" he warned.
"Please, more," was the only reply. Severus approached the young man slowly, his grip on the dagger tightening with every step. He stopped as he was merely inches away from the young man.
Harry was licking his already and still bleeding lips, the tang of the crimson liquid heightening his senses. He knew what was to happen next. He wanted this. He needed this.
Severus fixed his eyes on the sinful image of the Boy-Who-Lived licking his cherry mouth. As it always did, it only served to stoke the burning flames of desire within him. With the dagger still in one hand, he used the other to pull the boy closer and crush those tempting lips against his, the taste of blood right away assaulting his tongue as he delved deeper.
When he pulled away for air, his lips were as bloody as Harry's –it just made him want more.
With the dagger secure in his grip, he began to trace a shallow line along the boy's jaw. After three passes and a hiss of pain from the young man, blood began to surface from the cut. Severus followed the scarlet flow with his tongue, gently nipping the area as he pleased. He proceeded with the same treatment on Harry's throat, savoring the movement of the young man's Adam's apple against his thin lips.
A soft moan escaped Harry. Severus moved away to look at his prize.
The young man looked properly debauched, his cheeks flushed and droplets of blood covering some of his most sensitive parts. Severus felt his hardened erection straining for immediate release at that point. He stole a glance at the boy's eyes. It was still glossed over.
"What do you want, Harry?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"Pain, Master –not enough…"
A grunt escaped the older man's throat. He shredded his robes viciously as he attacked the boy's lips once more. Teeth and tongue worked in tandem to plunder that delectable mouth as his hands wandered south, meeting the young man's own burgeoning hard on.
Somewhere between the groping, Severus managed to slip on a leather cock ring onto Harry's erection. The lengthy phallus looked angered and uncomfortable against the restraint. The older man dropped to his knees and eyed his companion.
Harry's eyes were a little less hazy now.
Without another word, Severus took the straining erection in his mouth, hollowing his sallow cheeks as he sucked him off. With every thrust, he buried the thick cock deeper into his throat. A soft mewl escaped Harry's lips as he felt his whole body spasm, but the damned cock ring would not let him reach completion. It pained him to no end. He wanted to tell Severus to take it off… and yet…
He knew he needed this: the pain, the sense of loss, the deprivation…
"More…" he moaned.
"On the floor, on your hands and knees!"
The young man's knees would probably be scrapped, Severus knew, but it was part of the purpose, really. He ripped off his leather belt and dropped his black trousers onto the floor, leaving his white button-down shirt on.
A resounding 'thwack' could be heard repeatedly against the otherwise cold, quiet air of that very secluded room that had been witness to scenes like these since not too long ago, as the leather belt cut right through it and landed on the pale back presented to the Potions Master.
More streaks of blood oozed and joined those already on the bare skin; no doubt it would contribute to the maze of scars already on it as well.
Severus Snape was panting by the time he last raised his belt that night. He threw it aside and grabbed the boy by his unruly hair to force him to see his eyes.
"Look at me, Pet." His voice lacked its usual harshness. Harry's eyes slowly met his and Severus was once more looking at almost clear emeralds.
'Nearly there,' the older man sighed with relief. He then dropped onto the floor next to the young man as he sealed the bruised lips with a searing kiss. A low moan sounded from the Potions Master's throat as he felt Harry respond to his ministrations.
A wave of a wand and they were both lying on a thick rug on the Catacomb floor, all restraints loosened from Harry's naked form. Severus, equally bared now, straddling the younger man's hips. Clear green eyes looked up at the older wizard from behind long, thick lashes.
"Th- thank you, sir," Harry's lips curled up into a small smile as he said this.
"Your pain… will always be my pleasure, Mr. Potter." The rich baritone purred right next to the young man's ear. "Now that we have dealt with your fixation, I think it is time we have dealt with mine."
Lips met in a heated dance as their bodies convulsed with both pain (in Harry's case) and pleasure. A short while later, as Severus finally released his pent up lust in Harry's tight and heated orifice with one huge final thrust, he could not help but wonder if he really regretted having to save the brat -in that dismal and dark room, nonetheless –over and over and over again.
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FIN (for now) :)
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A/N: If you were already satisfied with that, please do not read this anymore and proceed with reviewing/ favoriting/ following this story. If you, like most people would probably be, have questions, I urge you to read further.
A few points if you will:
As was previously mentioned, I tried my hardest to comply with FFN rules. The actual sexual content was slightly glossed over as it wasn't actually the focus of this story, or I would have classified this as: M, Romance/Angst. I did not. So no actual 'shagging' was depicted. It was a deliberate move on my part.
The actual focus of this story is the peculiar setting of these monthly escapades harry is going through, hence, the title. You could probably see the long and winding description / setting that I did on the first part of the story. Again, it was deliberate.
Plot-wise, my main aim is to show how Snape deals with Harry's fixation on pain. I'm no BDSM expert. I went along with it as I wrote this story.
What is Harry's condition exactly? I did not go into detail or this may be even longer (and would take more time away from my other multi-chaptered fics). Let's just say that it has something to do with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). And since in my AU, he defeated Voldemort in his 6th year, on the night of the full moon, this particular phase serves as an important trigger to his monthly episodes. The haze on his eyes is just an outward manifestation of his rather strange affliction.
Unlike my other Snarry stories, I imagine that Severus and Harry have no emotional attachment to each other except for carnal desire and moral obligations (no matter how twisted, on Severus' part) and gratitude (on Harry's end). Although, it can certainly develop that way, I consciously avoided going towards that direction. If I would ever continue with this, it won't develop into a Romance. If there are any of you who want to write your own conclusion to this though, please do and share it with us. I would love to read your take on it.
I will have another story that deals with PTSD. A LONGER one-shot with Snarry Romance this time. I would probably publish it when I get more time.
Now, that's over, you can go on and review! Feel free to critique, send in more questions you feel I have not addressed and any other point for clarification. I will be happy to answer your questions. Thank you for reading and until next time –perhaps a sequel? -Chesca