Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes
Chapter Twelve : Lessons Learned

Warnings for : Hard "R" Rating for Language and Extreme Violence. It may not be the worst you've ever read, but it is not for the squeamish.

25 October 2003 : Early Morning, Pre-dawn

When the younger man finally faced him to assess his victim's reactions to his dilettantish efforts of the last several minutes, Severus spat on the floor at Draco's feet. "Is that the best you can do, boy?" he asked with mocking disdain.

Draco's eyes narrowed in anger, staring at the sweat-soaked face of his once-loved but now-hated teacher. He studied the familiar, insolent tilt to the man's eyebrow, the sneer twisting the thin lips, the stringy hair plastered to the sides of his pale face. Snape's contempt, the harshness of his unrelenting gaze, ignited a slow burn of resentment in Draco's belly. Something was very wrong here. He should be the one scorning Snape. Where was the submissiveness? He wanted Snape to beg. He'd given him three dozen of his best. Surely that should have brought some kind of reaction other than this--arrogance.

Perhaps Snape needed reminding of who was wielding the punishment and who was receiving it. "I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you," he taunted haughtily, "I'm not the one getting the shit whipped out of me."

Breathing hard and trying to collect himself, Severus baited him, in what was probably not one of his wiser moves. "I've had worse, at better hands than this--tickling--you're giving me. I see things haven't changed all that much. You're still a fuck-up, Draco."

As he'd hoped, Draco lost control and, moving behind him again, began to use the small whip in short, frenetic strokes. It was obvious the younger man used whips for play and pleasure, not punishment. Draco had no real mastery of the thing in that regard and was merely welting Severus' back, missing the more tender bits of him, for which the former Death Eater was absurdly grateful. There were some anatomical places (better left unthought) where the 'means' or duration didn't matter; the result would be pain. No, it was better to distract Draco and take the hits where he could stand it the best. He supposed that to someone unused to the lash it might be incapacitating, but Severus was no stranger to it, and, while it certainly brought no pleasure, mostly it just stung. His sweat and Draco's inexperience were actually working in his favour as it made the length of the whip slide, doing less injury. It made a lot of noise, but not a lot of damage.

His mind wandered, trying to find a way out of this mess. He couldn't believe they'd been stupid enough to get caught. 'Well, Remus was impetuous enough to get captured and I got caught in the backlash--OW--poor choice of words. What I can't figure out is why. Why would they do this? Why place themselves in a position for resumption of a dead conflict? And were we the intended victims? Did they think Harry would be with us? Were they the ones who sent the Howlers predicting his death? Is this why Albus was insistent that Harry not come? So he could keep him safe at Hogwarts?' A new, more disturbing thought crossed his mind. 'And does this mean that Dumbledore knew this lovely diversion would happen?' He shunted the speculation to the side; it was too depressing to contemplate at the moment.

While one part of him thought about it, the other noted Draco changing tactics behind him, the strokes stronger, but slower. 'Perhaps Draco is acting alone? Out of revenge for my admittedly unpleasant means of extracting information out of him? Or for the perverse pleasure he knew I took in taking his pound of flesh for the torment he put Harry through? No, I smell Lucius here somewhere--the trap was too elaborate for Draco--he's always been a straight line thinker. And given the bad blood between us when we were younger and later serving Voldemort, I have no doubt the rat would gladly sell me off on his own, but only Lucius would be able to gain enough of Peter's questionable loyalty to betray Remus, the last Marauder. Draco has not his father's considerable talents to instill sufficient fear to force Peter so far out of his hole.'

He grunted as a particularly hard lash caught him on the ribs. The pain level was still tolerable; he'd learned a very long time ago how to separate himself from this and other minor annoyances; when he reached this state, he'd always found his mind and thinking clearer the more he dissociated himself from what his body experienced. After all, when it came to pain, he'd learned from a master; if he could have shrugged he would have done so. Giving up his unproductive, frustrated thinking for the moment, he turned his head slightly towards Remus chained to the stone wall a few yards away for a different kind of distraction. Looking over Remus' spare form in the flickering torchlight, he found it singularly unfair that the too-thin werewolf had been allowed to keep his modesty while he himself hung fully exposed. It was bloody cold and damp in here and there was some grim satisfaction that, at least for this part of it, Remus appeared as uncomfortable as he was.

Remus stared back at him, feeling guilty; he'd been so dumb to chase after Peter that way. Full of the blood-lust, he'd vaguely heard Severus yelling something at him, but he'd so easily ignored it with his quarry so close. One moment he'd almost had Peter, then next he'd awakened here all trussed up like a Yuletide goose, his hands and feet numb as much from the ropes as from the raw stone under his cheek.

And 'here' had not inspired any rush of well-being. His first sight had been of Peter's lumpy bum as he and Draco moved a similarly tied Severus across the room. They'd left the Potions master lying in a heap before coming over to him and, swearing loudly, roughly fastened him to the wall. His backside cold, he hoarded his small gratitude that at least they'd left his boxers and socks on; Severus had not received the same consideration when they'd taken their time 'preparing' him. Shortly after they'd finished, Peter and Draco had argued in low voices, the result being that Peter had left in a huff. Not that Remus missed the rat's company, but there had been something chilling in the calculated glances Draco kept throwing Snape, as he'd rummaged around a table at the back of the room, that had Remus wishing there was someone else, other than him, present to keep an eye on the boy.

Grimacing, he mouthed the words "I'm sorry," over to Snape, whose mouth twisted and sneered at him. He sent Remus an air kiss. Remus smiled wryly at the old Order joke: "Kiss my arse," Severus was telling him.

He couldn't fathom Severus' levity at a time like this. Naked, the man's arms were spread wide slightly above him, wrists tied to the tops of two sturdy steel posts, one on either side of him. His fettered ankles were fastened securely to rings welded in the bottom of each post near the floor. Remus could see the flexible whip crack around Snape's side and noticed the tiny wince as each flat leather strap curled around. Other than an occasional grunt and temerarious snide comment to Draco every now and again, Snape made no sound; Remus admired his control. In fact, Remus had a feeling Severus wasn't really 'there'. While his face was impassive and his eyes stared unseeing at some point by the door, there was an awareness about him Remus had seen many times when Snape ignored his surroundings to think deeply about something. Remus suspected this almost Buddha-like concentration was what had, in the end, made his time as a Death Eater and spy barely tolerable.

Both Remus and Severus had lost count when the iron door flew open and Lindsay Avery sauntered into the room. "Well, Draco, let's see what we have here." He walked around behind Snape where Draco had stopped to catch his breath. The younger man flushed angrily at Avery's next words. "What? You've been here for almost an hour and THIS is all you've accomplished? It's a good thing your father sent me. Here, give me that thing." Taking the flogger from Draco, he walked over to a table behind Severus and placed the short whip back on it. "Every job has the proper tool. This shorter scourge is more appropriate to love play than any serious punishment." He fingered the thick leather, running it through his hands. "See, the straps are too wide. And this one," he picked up a hooked cat-o-nine-tails, "will do a right ripping, but it's too much and your client will lose consciousness too soon and ruin all your fun." He laid the tails down and pointed to a bullwhip. "If you want to inflict the maximum amount of pain with the most amount of damage, you need something like my 'Lady' here."

Draco eyed Avery's well-oiled 'Lady', which Avery had picked up reverently from the table, placing a kiss on the handle. "It's too long for me to wield," Draco whined. "And tell me again why we're here and not sleeping? Surely they'll keep."

"Tush! Nonsense, my boy. It just takes some practice. Let me show you how it's done," he remarked as if they were discussing the weather. As he turned to approach Severus, he stopped and glanced balefully at Draco, his voice and face hardening. "And we're here because your father told us to be and don't you forget it, boy. If you'd prefer, I could just show you, first hand, how it's done." With a harsh huff at Draco's widening eyes, Avery continued, "No? I thought not, so shut your mouth, listen, watch, and learn."

Severus felt his heart drop into his toes, his stomach frozen into a block of ice. 'Fuck! I knew it--Lucius IS involved. And Avery. And his 'Lady.' Fucking bastard. I should have killed you long ago.' He knew an instant of pure panic and struggled to keep his face blank. 'I will be calm. I will not hyperventilate. I will relax. I will be in pain.' Avery had that effect on him and always had after all the hours they'd spent in each other's 'gentle' company when he was younger. Taking as deep a breath as he could, and others given his current position, he dropped all thoughts and memories of his past association with Avery into a place deep within him. Barely aware of the drone of voices behind him, he soon felt the dismay ebb to be replaced with the knowledge that while he might not be able to control his body's response to what was sure to follow, he bloody well wouldn't scream.

When Avery had walked through the door, Remus noticed the pale flicker of fear around Severus' eyes before he'd schooled them to stare blankly ahead. He obviously knew something Remus didn't, and listening to Avery's casual dissertation on the values of different kinds of whips sent a chill down the werewolf's back that had nothing to do with the icy stone behind him. He could see Severus gathering his courage at the first sonic crack of the long bullwhip against the stone floor. Remus' eyes widened, dread filling him, at the puff of dust raised when its weighted tip snapped the floor, leaving a tiny nick in the ancient stone. He raised frightened eyes to Snape and was horrified by the dead resignation in his face. Snape knew what was coming and obviously was no stranger to it.

Avery strolled around Severus several times, noting the spread of flattened, hairline scars. "You're looking well, Severus," he started off, his voice low and gravelly, like to a lover. "I see you've desecrated my handiwork from the last time we met. Too bad--I'd looked forward to continuing my masterpiece. No matter, I'll just have to think up a new design. There's plenty of room left to work with." Laughing low, he stood inches away, almost touching, and with the handle of the whip under his chin, he tipped Severus' head up to look at him, murmuring gently to him, "How quickly we forget the proper stance when one of your betters is teaching you a lesson. You will look at me when I tell you to, won't you, Severus?"

He replaced the whip handle with his hand, the fingers pressing into Snape's chin painfully. When the tears sprang unbidden to his eyes from the bruising pressure, Avery leant in and gave him a long open-mouthed kiss, his tongue laving all around his mouth and pushing past his closed lips. He bit the captive lower lip hard, leaving a small trail of blood that he licked off. "That's much better." A mere breath of air between them, he ran his hand down Severus' cheek several times, moving the hair in his face back behind his ears. He traced his fingers over Severus' shoulders, across his chest, down his side, feeling the prominent ribs, the soft skin begging to be violated. He continued down the hip bone, sliding his hand around to cup and stroke a bare buttock. "Gods, this is going to be so sweet," Avery whispered, backing away.

Avery removed his robes and his shirt, revealing that the years had been kinder to him than he deserved. He handed the discarded clothing to Draco. "Here--set these aside. I don't want to get them bloody." His bulky muscles flexed as he moved the whip around, re-acquainting himself with her heft and length. Snape's eyes went empty as he fought to control his disgust and the hard knot of fear still lodged in his belly. They flew open with the first crack of the whip as he pulled back against the bonds to arch away from the searing pinpoint of agony on his shoulder just inches away from his face.

Concentrating on something other than the pain, he could hear Remus breathing hard across the room. Preparing for the next strike he knew was sure to follow, Severus thought grimly, 'No, Remus has never experienced this. However, having been on both ends, I still say it's better to watch than receive.'

"You see, Draco, the trick is to 'lead' him, much the way you do an animal when you're hunting it. You have to anticipate how far he will bow away from you so the whip doesn't lose precious contact. I'm a bit rusty--this one left a furrow. You only want to use the tip for tight accuracy. Let's see if I can't get warmed up."

"You always did talk too much," Severus gasped out as the second crack landed lengthwise on the soft side of his neck. It felt like Avery had snapped his head off.

"And you never knew when to shut up," Avery said calmly, facing Severus with Draco slightly behind him watching in rapt fascination. Avery laid another flicker of the whip delicately across his lips.

Instant fire broke out. His lips swelled tight, making breathing difficult, but he could tell Avery was now making his mark as he'd not cut him this time.

Admiring his work, Avery chuckled and said, "Ah, much better than a gag." He walked back to Severus and ran his fingers almost tenderly across the rapidly bruising lips. "Beautiful," he breathed and turned around to join Draco once again. "There Draco, that's how it should be done. Now that I've warmed up, let me show you the art."

He went behind Severus. This was worse; he couldn't see him, couldn't prepare himself for Avery's skill. And he knew it was a deadly skill--one of Avery's best--other than the knives. He knew that if he survived this, they would be next.

Singing a song only Avery could hear, the whip meted out his pleasure.

"See Draco, I laid a lovely pattern before."

Full bright blossoms of blood welled up in the spaces left open between the old scars.

"I used to soften him up for our Lord."

Each pinpoint contact of the leaded tip of the bullwhip left a raised angry welt--

"It took me two years to lay the framework--"

--which burst open like a ripe pustule under pressure--

"--but I filled in the pattern of it in one single night."

--spewing flying droplets of crimson agony--

"Do you remember, Severus?"

--against the pale soft skin of Severus' back and sides,--

"You were what?"

--leaving open, torn star bursts like bullets through soft flesh.

"Seventeen or so?"

Each snap and crack of the whip heralded a new white-hot score of pain--

"I remember the Master was--"

--trailing streamers of red behind his tightly closed eyes--

"--most displeased with you."

--as he struggled to control the screams lodged in his throat.

"He wanted you punished."

The precise lacings of Avery's lover across his ribs--

"He wanted you to beg for mercy."

--stole the very air from his lungs. With immense will--

"Do you remember begging, Severus?"

--he stilled the involuntary twisting of his body--

"It was oh, so beautiful--"

--away from the excruciation of each lash as it only--

"--the loving licks--"

--served to lay the tip across spots that were already--

"--and sweet kisses--"

--opened and bleeding. The pain deepened with each stroke.

"--given so freely to you--"

Sweat ran with the blood down his back leaving--

"--by my lady here."

--a different torment of his own making. The lash licked around his legs--

"Or is it you only remember--"

--leaving curliques of pain in its wake topped with a point--

"--what happened after?"

--of fire when the tip finally sang around and bit him.

"When our Master--"

Up and down his legs the whip ran, tipping the tops of his toes,--

"--slid in your blood--"

--the soft skin of his ankles, the backs of his knees;--

"--rubbed his body's salt into you--"

--his buttocks bled for Avery's lady, the crease laid open.

"--as he fucked you dry."

Precise carmine roses were carved in the concave hollows between his ribs,--

"Your screams were so lovely."

--his armpits and sides held the thorns, the hardened leather--

"Do you remember, Severus?"

--pulled tufts of hair out as they retreated.

"I so loved to hear you scream--"

Scourged wounds, almost beyond pain--

"--while I and my beautiful lady--"

--dotted across his stomach, his muscles clenching to escape the--

"--crossed the invisible line--"

--inevitable path as Avery laid stripes across--

"--between pleasure and pain."

--his hips, the tender insides of his thighs, his scrotum.

"She caressed your balls--"

The battle was momentarily lost and a prolonged cry erupted unbidden--

"--licked your shaft--"

--as the caress of weighted metal creased a welted furrow down his penis,--

"--until our Master came and--"

--and another struck with a kiss at the tip--

"--ripped you apart."

--dripping with the blood of Avery's pleasure.

"Scream for me, Severus!" he cried with a flurry of lightning fast flicks as wanton as an orgasm--

A frenzy of fiery strokes kissing his body, the staccato cracks of the whip deafening in the small chamber. He arched against the bonds, his throat tight around his unsurrendered screams--

Gasping for air, Severus had nowhere to turn to escape the explosions of anguish coursing across his body, the salt of his own blood and sweat running down his back creating a new agony with every beat of his heart.

And then, for some unknown reason, it was over; the whip stilled, dragging on the stone flags. Its wielder, his face ecstatic, breathed heavily as if he'd just come fresh from his lover's bed. Severus drew himself together enough to glare defiantly at his tormentors.

Draco's face was a study in fascinated horror. Severus couldn't decide if he was disturbed, numb, or aroused. It was all the same. He was there, he had watched, and he had done nothing to stop him. He stared straight at him and told him with only his eyes what a coward he thought he was.

Still gasping, stunned at the life still left in his victim, Avery managed to continue his lesson. "See, Draco... it's all in the wrist. You don't need to flail him... to hurt him. Here... you try. I daresay... he's softened up by now."

Draco hesitantly took the whip from him and flicked it in the air, smiling suddenly at the sound it made as the tip burst through the sonic barrier making the distinctive crack no one would ever mistake for anything else. Severus winced, bracing for a blow that never came. Calm now, the movement was not lost on a closely watching Avery. "That's right, test her first, make her sing." Several more pops followed and Avery nodded. "I think you have the hang of her, you'll learn no more without some practice. Come to the front where there's still some open space to work and he can see you." He laughed, holding Snape's gaze. "As a teacher, I'm sure he'll appreciate the acquisition of skill."

Severus closed his eyes. A whip of this power in the hands of an angry neophyte was not something he wished to see. The first tentative throw caught him across the face, the tip biting near his ear, the sonics of its landing almost deafening in its proximity. His head imploded and his ear began to bleed from the inside.

Avery was patience itself. "No, no, you're too close, Draco. It's the tip that causes the damage, not the shaft. Try again."

The second strike, better aimed and controlled, laid a stripe open on his shoulder next to the first one Avery had thrown. Snape grunted.

Avery put a hand on Draco's arm before he could flick the whip again. "What did you say, Severus? You have a comment?"

Snape licked his dry swollen lips and said hoarsely, "Better. His control was better, although it is nowhere near your standard." He chuckled mirthlessly--he would be damned if he let them know how much it hurt.

Avery wheezed on his laughter. "A compliment indeed, from one who should intimately know. Try again, boy."

"He's mocking me!" Furious, Draco stalked right up to Snape, his face mere inches away. "Aren't you?"

His voice barely above a whisper, each breath laboured, he said for Draco's ears alone, "No, not really. But I will tell you this--you will never equal Avery if that is your aim. You're not vile nor venomous enough and you're too smart. Take a good look, Draco--Voldemort's enforcer. If you want to see true evil, look hard at Avery, for he is its embodiment. You don't have it in you to sink to his level of depravity. No one does--not even your father."

Draco backed away from him several feet, his face dismayed. It lasted but an instant before the shutters slammed down over the faint humanity in his eyes. He viciously pulled the whip behind him and let it go with deadly intent in an underhanded twist. Severus stared implacably into his eyes as the tip sang its way to him, defying him to break him. He felt calmer now--the pain receding into a controllable ball. The little exchange had bought him the time to rediscover that place within him where he could hide until it was safe to come out. Then he could hurt at his leisure.

None of them were prepared for the explosion of light that ripped through the chamber when the lash hit Severus dead center in his chest. The Talisman in his skin blazed, sending a trail of bright power up the shaft of the whip; Draco couldn't drop the handle in time and it scorched him. The whip was now an insignificant pile of smouldering ashes on the floor, the burned residue thick on Draco's hands where they'd gripped the leather and wood stock just moments before.

Severus had but a moment's glimpse of Avery's stunned, wrathful face, Draco's pain, and Remus' tired grin before his vision narrowed and he sagged mercifully against the bonds, his last thought, Why?

Harry sat bolt upright in the bed, sweat-soaked, the shadowed dream in which he'd tossed ending in an explosion of white light and even brighter pain. His wits scattered, heart pounding, he focused on the very real discomfort centering on his chest. He absently rubbed the place where their Talisman was burnt into his skin. It was hot to the touch and tender. This was new, and he experienced a brief moment of panic that something was wrong with Severus. However, after a few moments of fruitless searching through their bond and the rapid cessation of the disturbing sensations in his body, his common sense kicked in and told him he was being fanciful, that he'd still been in that nether place where dreams still feel real before one is fully awake. He shook his head at his own folly--it wouldn't be the first time that had happened--there had been times when he'd either greatly amused or alarmed Severus with the early morning remnants of his dreams.

Still groggy, he looked around the room noting the empty place beside him and the darkness outside the window. "Severus must be on one of his walks," he muttered around a huge yawn. While late, it was not unusual for Severus to walk until dawn and he felt little concern on that count, knowing his lover had plenty of time to sleep-in this morning. He briefly toyed with the idea of joining him, but his unusually heavy lids and leaden body told a different tale of what he needed to do right now. He pulled Severus' pillow back over to him; the lingering scent of his lover filling his senses lulled him back to sleep.

He never noticed Horatio under the covers.

TBC