Okay here is the corrected newly revised *edited* Corruption Of Innocence.
As before I do not own the Harry Potter universe all is owned by the brilliant J K Rowling and Warner Bros. I am not receiving any money for this fan fic.
This story is rated R for adult themes including mild horror, rape, depression, and sexual relations, but is predominantly a tale of bravery, commitment and romantic sensuality.
Severus Snape
A corruption Of Innocence`
Prologue
Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry was a large and impressive building, standing atop a craggy hill overlooking an expansive lake. Surrounding it were rolling moors and ice capped mountains. A castle with a deep and intrinsic antiquity, hidden in the untamed wilds of the Scottish moors. Buried also within it's ancient stone walls, willowy towers and turrets was a school steeped in magical reverie with a colourful history of over one thousand years.
Not only did students and staff reside there, but also an odd assortment of the not so living, the ghosts and ghouls of Hogwarts past and present.
It was mid January. Snow still fell outside covering the unbroken landscape in a thick white blanket. The lake was frozen over and the children made extra value of it when not at lessons, to skate or slide. The giant squid lay dormant beneath the surface. Only when spring came and the ice finally began to melt did it emerge from its silent slumber, but until then the students were safe to play.
It was late, darkness had befallen many hours previously. The bitter coldness of the winter nights were only marginally warmed a few degrees by the roaring open fires throughout the castle interiors, except for hidden passages and secret tunnels, unused classrooms and the dungeons.
The sound of quiet footsteps and a rustle of fabric could be heard echoing faintly through the long dark corridors. A figure swathed in black made his way down into the dark recesses of the dungeons. The only visible light was the lantern he was carrying with him.
Chapter 1 Incubus
The man sat at an old antique desk, quill in hand sifting through a pile of parchment. His dark eyes flickered with weariness, reflecting in them was the dancing flame from a lit candle. He sighed as he finally placed the feathered writing instrument down and stirred as if in trance into the dancing flame, a hypnotic quality that caused his eyes to momentarily close. The man slumped forward, his mind and body wavering on sleep.
Black hair was flung forward narrowly missing the flame, causing it to dance with determined fervency until it finally calmed of it's own accord.
The man groaned almost inaudibly and pushed his head with some effort away from the tiny beacon of light and warmth, his fingers pushing back the loose tendrils of hair out of harms way. For a few seconds he let the flame warm the exposed pale skin of his cheek until the sensation of burning forced him to pull away.
He stood up, noticing the chill creep through his body and he took a moment to stretch tense muscles, forcing warmth back into his aching shoulders. He had stayed in the same position for far to long.
Then he blew out the candle and went to bed.
He lay there alone in the bitter coldness that was his room. He deliberately kept his chambers cold, believing any warmth created unnaturally or by magic was a luxury that he simply wasn't worthy of.
Every night was the same. Every night when the darkness finally claimed him and sleep ultimately took him into unconsciousness. Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, head of Slytherin house would weep silently unbeknownst to him in his sleep.
Nothing would change, nothing in the last thirty or more years had changed. Painful memories some so intense they had been shut away into the deep recesses of his mind never again daring to re-surface for fear that he would be sucked down into something so despairing that he would never be able to pull himself up and away from.
He lay there deep in personal tragedy waiting for his nightmares to start all over again.
Exhaustion from a particularly arduous day and scarcity of sleep the previous night had brought him to his bed. Severus tried to avoid sleep for fear that the night time terrors would break free to the surface and consume him once more, like tonight.
And as he lay with his mind wavering on memories and long forgotten dreams he started to ponder Albus Dumbledore. A man, the sole person he could admit he truly trusted. The man who had brought him out of one particular hell and threw him unknowingly into another, spared him from the wizard prison Azkaban and for his retribution made him a spy. Not long after he found his vocation as a instructor, teaching Potions to untried school children.
Only he and Dumbledore knew about his other occupation. A double agent, to spy on the Death Eaters, particularly Voldemort. It was costing Severus' his new found fragile freedom as well as his emotional and physical health, but some how he always managed to get himself out of a dangerous sticky situation without the Dark Lord suspecting he had returned to the other side and make it back to Hogwarts reasonably safely, if not exhausted, and that a medial potion couldn't cure.
Sometimes Severus Snape wondered whether Azkaban could be anything worse than what he was dwelling in now or whether a kiss from a dementor, would or could give him the peace he secretly longed for.
Professor Dumbledore would never know the exact truth concerning Severus' past. Only one person had an inkling and she was gone from his life a long time ago and then it was only by a misfortunate turn of events that she did know by accident and telepathy. He was too ashamed, to proud to openly admit the secret tragedies that had befallen him many years ago. As a child, orphaned from the age of one, then later as a adult, and what finally drove him over to the other side in the first place.
With Voldemort finally defeated along with his merry band of followers, Severus Snape was free. Free to leave Hogwarts, free to leave England if he wished, free to leave the land of his twisted and bitter past. Only that he couldn't. Something kept him from taking that final step and begin a new life. A life he genuinely deserved. He wasn't sure what it was, and why that strange nagging feeling at the back of his brain told him to stay put.
The nightmare came, blindly real, Severus awoke screaming and sweating. Sitting bolt upright in the bed, the blanket fell to his waist revealing pale almost white skin, flesh that probably hadn't seen sun light in years, and scarred from years of torment and pain. He ached terribly and leaned forward as if to vomit. Nausea subsided as did the memory and finally after minutes of just staring at the folds in his blanket he relaxed just enough to sigh and slump back down against the pillow.
Black strands of damp hair were plastered over his face and he weakly pushed them back out of his eyes. He moaned softly then flung his right arm rather haphazardly over his face, shielding his eyes from the deep crimson to violet light as the sun slowly made it's progression across the sky, advancing into day.
What time is it? he thought with a sigh.
Finally he moved his arm just enough to see the clock, an old battered wooden thing positioned next to his four poster bed on the small cabinet. Six thirty, he read. The professor moaned again realising that in just under two hours he would have to suffer the consequences of bothersome children once more. And he felt as if he had only just got into the blasted bed.
Damn it, he thought and closed his eyes. Damn them all, he lay there letting himself fall into a restless slumber once again, permitting his dreams to take over his mind, flicking their angry flames into his wounded and battered soul.
At first he dreamt he was standing in a night time desert of barren sands.
Alone and desolate Severus pulled his cloak tightly around his body warding of the cold. He stood for a moment staring out at the windswept landscape debating which way to go. All around, in every direction was nothingness. The place appeared devoid of even the most basic of life. Severus Snape was entirely alone.
After a while of silent contemplation he hiked his way across the wilderness with no idea in with direction he was proceeding. Irrational fear tore at the edges of his mind and he forced himself to rationalise the situation. He had to keep going despite the obvious conclusion, stranded and alone with no idea where he was that he'd probably perish by morning if some strange beast or climatic change didn't get him before sunrise.
It seemed as if he'd walked for hours. Every direction looked the same. He turned and looked behind him. The only blemish on the sands were his own foot prints which quickly enough were brushed away by the numbing winds.
He gazed up at a clear star lit sky. Pin pricks of light shining like millions of diamonds spilled onto black velvet. Severus shivered, the flimsy fabric of his cloak gave him no protection against the elements, especially out there. He wished he was wearing his long woollen coat.
As he watched transfixed by the sky it changed from a starfield to daylight blue, diluted with a scatter of white fluffy clouds. His ears suddenly picked up the sound of a crowd. Severus frowned at the sensation of blades of grass under his feet. Looking down expecting to find his booted feet, he frowned as his eyes fell upon his bare legs. For that matter he was barely wearing anything at all.
There was laughter.
He looked up scowling and saw the crowd. He was standing on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, fuming with rage, freezing cold and unveiled in front of the entire school. Children and adults were laughing alike.
Humiliation turned a turn for the worse when he noticed several of the children pointing at him, Severus realised then that he was completely naked, exposed to the entire school.
Abruptly he covered himself with trembling hands, but as soon as he managed to conceal himself his arms were pulled back to his sides. Professor Snape noticed Dumbledore in the not so far distance shaking his head and tutting in disparagement.
Severus' embarrassment of being naked in front of the school quickly changed to terror when he felt something grabbing at his genitals. There was a low horrifying growl sound. He looked down to discover a huge black dog, it's savage jaws narrowly missing him. He gasped in fear, the fight or flight reflexes were engaged. With his heart virtually leaping out of his chest he ran panting, with all his might.
With pure terror he tore across the Quidditch pitch with the vicious beast lagging on behind him. Within the obscurity of brazenness the crowd was cheering. He turned to look. People were jumping up and down frantically, waving and jeering at him. He heard a distinct chomping sound of jaws impacting together. For a second sharp pointed teeth grazed his behind.
Severus turned to look the other way, pausing for a fraction of a second, a second to long, the dog pounced and the next minute he was sprawled on his back, with the dog's head nestled between his thighs. The potions master frowned down at himself. His eyes widened, heart pumping frantically, he could feel the blood rush to his face, an intense cold sweat coating his skin. The adrenaline rush subsided to both exhaustion and shock. Instead of the dog ravaging him, there appeared to be a small woman.
He let free a small cry, he recognised her immediately. The woman, or rather the girl for a more exact description glanced up at him, her verdant eyes sparkling mischievously with the intention of doing whatever she wished to him.
He froze.
She laughed lightly, it was music to Severus' ears, that same delicate little laugh he'd heard so often before.
Severus felt her tongue flicker over his navel, then she blew cool air. The girl gazed intently at his face and smiled before kissing a path up to his chest. She paused again before he felt her mouth lapping very delicately at his hardened sensitised nipples.
"How does that feel Severus?" She whispered. The professor was shocked both by her treatment of him and her addressing him by his given name.
"It's... get off me will you?" He snapped. She giggled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before dropping down beside him, still too close for comfort. Severus edged away, but was stopped by her arms entwining around his shoulders.
"Taya Matterson-" he began to say, but was pushed down again, words forgotten as her small hands slid tantalisingly slowly down his torso. Severus swallowed realising with horror that her caresses were stirring something deep down within the very core of his being.
"I wanted to please you," she whispered as she slid down beside him, then her voice changed to sadness. "I always wanted to please you, but you never noticed me. You always ignored me, everything I did was wrong even before the..." Her voice trailed off and she lowered her eyes to stare at the ground for a moment.
"You hated me," he muttered. "At least that is what I first anticipated. If it wasn't for your bloody 'gift' you and I would never be in this ridiculously absurd situation." He frowned. "Do you really want me?"
The professor suppressed a shudder as her right hand slowly slid down his arm, pausing to caress the Dark Mark before resting it on his shoulder. She looked up at him and locked her gaze with his. Her clear emerald eyes glistening slightly as if from unshed tears.
"Tell me that you liked it. Severus, tell me to do it again. Tell me to make love to you."
Severus bit his lip, why was saying a few simple words so difficult? Even if in a dream? His brown eyes, almost black in intensity locked with hers. He studied her face. The way her long wavy mahogany hair framed her face, her huge green almond shaped eyes framed with long dark lashes, the sprinkle of freckles on her nose and the slightly parted lips. She is perfect in every way, he thought dully. Completely opposite to me... Severus lowered his head meekly and swallowed.
"Yes," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. He closed his eyes, as he felt her fingers brush his lips.
"Only if you beg Snape," came a horse reply.
Abruptly he opened them again. Taya was gone.
In her place was the man that had abused him for years. Severus felt a harsh stubbily face scratching against his cheek, a mouth hard and cruel pressed onto his, forcing a brutal kiss. A tongue penetrated licking him inside, tasting him, it lapped against his own tongue, slow and deliberate, humiliating, perhaps pleasurable if was with her. But she wasn't here, he was.
Severus froze, unable to move, unable to do anything to prevent what was happening. He was beginning to wish he was still naked and running through Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch, not here.
He felt cold stone beneath him. and vice like grip on his bare arms. The grasp was only released for a fraction of a second and a hand stroked the Dark Mark branding on his left lower arm like Taya had moments before, a sign that ment a person had given their life to Voldemort, a life no longer their own, but an existence of twisted pleasure and violence, mingled with contempt, a Death Eater.
But for him, Severus Snape's experience had been far from twisted pleasure, he was the twisted pleasure and delight of another.
The younger man prepared himself for the onslaught.
Then he woke up. The sound of his alarm clock going off. Pain gnored at his brain. He sighed. At least he had been spared the rape for tonight. Anger tore through him. Severus grabbed the small wooden clock and flung it across the room, where it smashed into the opposite wall facing his bed. It slid down to the floor where it rested for a few seconds before magically reforming itself.
The clock was as battered as ever, scars of previous attacks of rage permanently etched across it's face and casing.
He was angry at his old master, mad at Taya for appearing like that in his dream, mad at her dream image making love to him, something that perhaps he subconsciously craved for.
Severus hauled himself out of the bed and stalked to the bathroom.