Chapter 9

Severus Snape

by Sevfan

Betaed by VCCV

Merlin save me from these incompetent fools! Chief Auror Boadicea Basher – how this poor excuse for a witch ever rose to such a position is beyond me. She obviously thought herself very clever this evening, trying to catch me out with all her inane questions. The woman did not realise with whom she was dealing. If Voldemort was unable to find me out all those years, how in the name of the seven hells did she think she could? Hah! I am much too clever for her. I had an answer for each and every question, each one given with ease, as if we were chatting about the weather or some other banality. I sat there, looking positively bored and oh so put out by her implication that I might be responsible for Weasley's rather timely death. I am well practiced in such an appearance. One does tend to become expert after a lifetime of performances. Basher tried hard, I'll give her that much. It just wasn't good enough. It was all I could do to contain my smirk when she said I could go. Stupid bint!

My testimony was flawless; completely iron-clad save for one little detail – Harry Potter. I told Basher that Potter and I were engaging in sexual intercourse at the time of the murder, therefore I could not possibly have committed the crime. This would be a truth any other night except, unfortunately, that one. No, my feckless little Gryffindor slave was absent from my chambers. Potter may be incompetent in many things, but he is by no means a stupid man. I am counting on his intelligence to be my alibi and his. I tried desperately to find Potter before my interrogation so that we could corroborate one another's stories, but he was nowhere to be found. My little whore will be severely punished for his absence. I was forced to tell my little deviation from the truth cold and unrehearsed due to his neglect. My story was all together likely and that is why I am counting on Potter to tell Basher the same tale – that we spent the evening with my cock up his ass.

Wouldn't the wizarding world be scandalized to know that their little hero was not only gay, but into kinky sex as well? That there was nothing he liked better than to be tied up and beaten? That he got pleasure from being by hurt and humiliated? The punishment, of course, being inflicted by yours truly. Our relationship began shortly after Potter defeated the Dark Lord. Potter came to me. Oh so needy he was that night. I was more than willing to oblige. The relationship evolved rather quickly and Potter became my slave. I have to say, he does it very well. He submits to my every whim and has never refused me. I have pushed him to the limit and he just takes it all like the good little slut that he is. Such a pretty sight he makes – clad only in a leather harness, his arse fiery red from my hand or my paddle, his back decorated with thin red lines where my whip has caressed it. Poor Harry, he does get so hard! Sometimes, I let him come. Sometimes. Yet, he never complains, my little Gryffindor pussy. Even when I let him suck me off and I leave him dripping and achingly hard, he thanks me for allowing him to pleasure me. Master has never sounded so sweet as it does coming from his ruby lips. What would they all say if they saw how he takes my cock up his ass and begs me for more, pleads for me to fuck him harder? What a sweet revelation that would be! I could order him to do it, to tell the world of his perversion. I know my Harry would, as proof of his love for his master. But alas, it would not do for the world to know my perversion as well.

Harry does love me, foolish Gryffindor that he is. I have forbidden the words. They will never cross his lips and yet I see it in his eyes. Those impossibly green eyes speak volumes. The eyes of his mother… Lily, forgive me for what I do. James, I fuck your precious son and he loves it. I think of you know, James, often at the oddest moments. When I am pounding into his tight, impossibly hot body or when I piss into the mouth that he holds so willingly open for me, you cross my mind. I could not have planned a sweeter revenge and it is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Pity you cannot partake of such orgasmic delights. More's the pity it cannot be bottled; one tiny phial and I could retire with wealth beyond my wildest dreams. To leave behind these snot-nosed, insolent, cretinous creatures I endure on a daily basis would be worth all the riches it might bring. But enough foolish reverie!

Harry services me well and provides me outlet for my sexual urges. I am, on the whole, satisfied with our arrangement. However, there are times when I need more than he can provide. Occasionally, I require what he requires from me – to be dominated, to feel the sting of the whip, the pain and the humiliation, to be fucked. These things I cannot ask of Harry. It is not in his nature to hurt, even if his Master commands it. It is at such times that I seek out solace from another, one not afraid to give me what I want and need. Such a person was Ronald Weasley. He was everything Harry was not – hard, cold, cruel to the extreme. His punishments were exquisite, his torture divine. I grew to crave his touch more and more. Harry never knew of our trysts until one day, his own carelessness brought him to see what he did not wish to see. Harry had gone out for the evening and I quickly called Weasley to my chamber, not wishing to waste one precious second of pleasure. Harry had forgotten the book he had promised Granger and returned to fetch it, walking in on his former best friend and myself in flagrante delicto. Harry had never seen me so. I was collared like a mangy cur and Weasley had hold of my leash and my hair as he fucked me with wild abandon, never breaking stride as Harry came upon us. I said that Harry's eyes spoke volumes and they did that night as never before. I watched him as emotion after emotion flashed quickly and painfully by: shock as he found his supposedly faithful lover being taken by another, his so-called best friend; dread as I ordered him to stay and watch, his eyes begging me to let him go; hurt as he heard my moans of pleasure from acts I would never permit him to do; jealousy rising swiftly from the pain as he realised he might perhaps lose me forever; hatred towards Weasley for his betrayal. These last two emotions were clearly the strongest. I had never before witnessed such fierceness in my little slave and I think, at that moment, he was capable of anything, even killing Weasley in a fit of jealous rage. If you had seen the fire in Harry's eyes that night, you would undoubtedly agree.

I could not reveal all this to Basher. Harry does have his uses and I would not like to see him wrenched from the happiness he has found under my care. I attempted to send the dear chief Auror down another avenue by implicating someone else. Harry tells me everything, you see. He had relayed some interesting bits of information that Granger had confided to him in a moment of despair. It seems that she had grown weary of her fiancé's philandering ways and had taken a lover for herself. Imagine my surprise to learn that she had taken one of my ex-Slytherins to her bed, in the form of one Blaise Zabini. Granger must have been desperate to sully her lily-white Gryffindor reputation with a lowly Slytherin. But then again, her two best friends had done the same. As for Zabini, I am not surprised that it was he she chose. He is a well-known user of women and will fuck anything that still has a pulse. I would not be surprised to learn that particular attribute was optional for him. Heavens me, I "accidentally" let the information about the Granger-Zabini tryst slip to Basher during my questioning. Although she tried to hide her excitement at this juicy bit of gossip, I saw that she swallowed the bait whole, not even stopping to chew. I am positive she is already polishing the medal she thinks she will receive for the quick resolution of the Weasley murder. Gullible bitch!

As for Weasley, I am not in the least sorry for his demise, even if he fucked me well. Ron was a nasty little shit who had everyone fooled. If there was ever a boy who deserved not to be sorted into Gryffindor, it was he. Well, perhaps he did at first, but that quickly changed. The older he got, the more his true character emerged. I can honestly say that I would not even have wanted him in my House, and that is not saying a lot for Weasley. Harry was so very kind to fill me in on all of his activities, from his dealings with Lucius to his treatment of his fiancée. I confronted Weasley about his involvement in the drug world, an action that was not at all appreciated. He warned me to keep out of his affairs, threatening to tell Harry what we had been up to. This was of no real concern to me – I knew that I could handle Harry. Seeing that his words meant little or nothing to me, he lashed out again, this time with even more venom. He was a smart man and quickly found a reason for me to keep silent. If I persisted and exposed his clandestine activities, he would expose mine. All of them. Having no desire to find myself homeless and penniless, I held my tongue. As for Miss Granger, what he put her through made my skin crawl. One may compare my relationship with Harry, and Ron's with Hermione, and ask what the difference is. Are they not the same, both violent and abusive? The two are as different as night and day. Harry and I have an arrangement, one in which we have both given consent. Hermione never gave consent; she permitted Ron to have his way, but never agreed, never derived any pleasure from his depraved actions. She allowed herself to be used as a doormat, all in the name of love. Can you see now why the word has been banned from Harry's vocabulary? I know I cannot order the feelings from his mind as well, so I do not try. Foolish Gryffindor, he should not fall so easily. I am sure he must believe that I love him in return, but I do not. I love no one. To me, he is my fuck-toy, my slave, my little pet. I should not like to see him sent to Azkaban, but if he is, so be it. There will be another to willingly take his place.