It was a cold basement.
The walls were made of concrete.
The room was damp.
Pipes hung from the ceiling, sticking out in odd angels.
Water dripped every few seconds resulting in a pitter patter that never ended.
Darkness was the only sight legible.
The only sound was hungry rats scurrying across the floor.
The smell of copper was strong from years of dried blood.
In the middle of the room, a figure was hung by his wrists. He was only clad in a pair of ripped up trousers. His lean torso was exposed. His ribs were prominent. His skin was pale in comparison to the dry blood that flowed down his ripped back. The boy had long and dark hair that was limp against his bowed head. The boy was only fourteen or fifteen.
His name was Severus Snape. He was no stranger to the horror of the basement in his own house. It has been for as long as he could remember a place for pain and punishment. The house was small and dingy from the years of use. Dark and depressing. But the basement held an electricity in the air that made him shiver whenever he entered it. Not like he had a choice. If he had his way he would have burned the house down long ago if only he had somewhere else to go.
Severus lifted his head up with whatever strength he could muster. It was still fuzzy from the blow that knocked him unconscious. He looked up to the door across from him. Hearing the door unlock by the sound of metallic clicking. The light from the outside lightly illuminated a patch on the ground. Showing the outline of a man in the entryway .
He flicked on a light switch. Illuminating the room in a dim yellowish hue.
Tall and bulky from years of working in the mines Tobias Snape's stature was intimidating. His intimidation didn't lay in only his size. No, his size was more laughable with his staggering when he was constantly under the influence of the bottle. But that bottle took away any of his reasoning. Even if he wasn't drunk he would still be in this same position with the same intent. Only he probably would have killed his son by now.
It was no surprise who the man was. Who else could it possibly be. Who else could be this sadistic.
Severus looked at the belt that Tobias held in his hands. Calloused fingers gripping the leather tightly. He didn't even feel scared at the anticipation. It was a punishment that he has experienced many times before. A routine he was quite familiar with.
His screams echoed throughout the room. Only to be cut off by the barricading door.
In the kitchen sat a frail witch at the kitchen table. The only sound was her sobbing into her hands. For if she didn't cry only silence could remain. And when that part of the house was quiet only pain remained.
Those days have long since passed. Severus was no longer a child. He was in his 40's now but that never erased 20 years of pain. Years of his father's drunken breath, and the snap of a belt as his arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets. He wasn't the only child to grace the halls of Hogwarts while being abused. But he in some ways had it worse than others. His father wasn't a wizard like his son. One of the reasons he despised him so much. No, the reason he truly hated Severus was for the sole purpose that he was born. His presence haunted him for only reasons he could explain. So in return Tobias made it his mission to ruin his son, in any form that he could muster. In the beginning he was blinded by a drunken rage. But as Severus grew so did Tobias' hunger for abuse. He realized he enjoyed the sight of pain. Even though his son was able to escape his grasp. He kept track of him. Knowing where he was working, who he was involved with at all times. There was nothing he couldn't find out from a well paid informant. Though the information became scarce in the later years, as Severus began to cover his tracks. It was enough for Tobias to always remain in control while he was cascaded to be left in the shadows. In a way Tobias needed his son. His son was his outlet. A way to starve off the itch. The constant need to paint the skin in blood. Once Severus was out of the house and hidden away in the magical world he found that he could cause pain to others. The need to cause pain was too strong. It became a necessity. An addiction. Others who responded much more in his favour then Severus; who learned to grit his teeth and simply take it. Others whose blood would flow from unblemished skin. Screams that sounded like a symphony.
The days after his punishments were bearable for Severus. His mother, when she had the strength, would help nurse him to the best of her abilities. It wasn't much for she was always in a similar state as her son. He long since learned to hide his pain. Found a way to manage it on his own. In a way it prepared him for when he joined the Dark Lord. If he could handle his father's temper for 18 years then he could surely handle the Dark Lord's anger once or twice a month. Even though he reigned for only a couple of years the pain he left behind was excruciating. His cruelty was experienced most by his own followers. However, Severus survived, just barely. His body was a testament of his strength. The wounds healed leaving behind only scars.
Pale silvery one, red raised ones, and all in between. Hermione couldn't help but stare at them as Severus' chest rose and fell with each breath as he slept. His arm was raised above his head, exposing his naked torso. Severus was usually an early riser. But after last night's activities he must have been tired out. And Hermione couldn't blame him. She surely was and slept soundly through the night. She still felt the pleasant ache in between her legs from his passion. After visiting the ministry function, it was surprisingly easy for the pair to disappear without being seen. Once they arrived back at Severus' house, their mouths quickly reclaimed each other. There was time to be soft and gentle later but in that moment as their passion ran wild, they were desperate to cling onto the other. Throwing clothes in their wake. Backs scraped against the wall. They were lucky they didn't break the bed in their quest to feel each other's heat. They came together in a surge of pleasure. There was a mess left in their wake that they would have to deal with later. Clothes and items swept onto the floor when Severus lifted her onto the side table so that they were at an equal height. For easier access. Bruises cover the others necks and collarbones. And from the soreness Hermione was feeling she wouldn't be surprised if there were bruises shaped as his fingers on her hips. The thought that she was guilty of liking since they left her in a shivering anticipation. All things that would need to be covered. But right now Hermione was content to lay on her side just staring at Severus. His body was littered with scars. But she didn't mind. It didn't dissuade her from wanting to stare at him for hours on end.
"How long have you been awake?" Severus asked with a voice dry and tired from sleep, while his eyes remained closed.
"Not long," Hermione signed, burrowing her head more into her pillow. She kept her eyes on him following his chest rising and falling to the way he skin wraps around his ribs.
"Your staring," Severus murmured.
"It's romantic," Hermione huffed indigently as Severus attempted to ruin her fun.
"It's creepy," Severus said without any venom as he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at his companion. He raised a brow as he watched her take him in. Even with his eyes closed he could feel her eyes leave a blaze across his skin. But now he wanted to know what all of the fuss was. Her hair was sprawled around her in a fine line that narrowed between either a curly mess or a halo. The sheets were dragged up along her torso that reminded him that she was indeed naked under them. Her eyes drew patterns across his skin. Once he realized what she was looking at he sighed in resignation. It wasn't a pleasant sight to behold. But it was an even more unpleasant conversation. He always made it a priority to hide this part of himself from others. But he didn't want to hide from her. They never really addressed it though. He was prepared to discuss this with her, when they first became intimate but she never asked. She was obviously aware that they were from his years as a spy amongst the Death Eaters. She was no fool and she has been aware of his role as a spy ever since she was fifteen. She could easily piece together the puzzle that his scars left behind. She could also tell that many of them were decades old and that they most likely had stemmed from his more than dismal childhood. He never gave too much detail of his years before Hogwarts or his father but none of them were kind. She knew exactly what he meant when he revealed how much of a threat his father was, without him needed to explain why. The need for secrecy apparent by the legacy left on his body. But she never looked in disgust at his scars. And that was a curious thing to him. Hermione was the one to always ask questions. But the one time he was expecting her to do so, she surprised him.
"Why weren't you shocked?" Severus asked.
"By what?" Hermione asked, raising her head to look at him.
"The first time.."
"I may have been a virgin the first time we got together but that doesn't mean I didn't know the mechanics of sex," Hermione said mirthlessly. Causing Severus to give a wry laugh.
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about my scars." That caused Hermione to crease her brow in a frown as she pensieved over the question. She never really gave it thought to her feelings over his blemished flesh. She had her own scars, who was she to judge him based on his?
"I wasn't bothered by them. I was bothered that you had them. But not bothered by them. They are a part of you." Hermione said simply and sincerely. She moved her hand and began to brush her finger tip tracing the lines. Moving from his ribs to the ones closest to his heart. Severus gave a content sign and gently grabbed her wrist and brought it up to his mouth lightly pressing his lips to her fingers. As if in gratitude for her healing touch.
"I figured you would have them memorized by now," Severus said as she shifted closer to him and began to pepper feather light kisses on to every scar she could reach.
"I'm taking my time," Hermione replied. "Do you remember how you got them?" Hermione asked looking up at him from her position of being sprawled out on him.
"Everyone," Severus said softly.
"How did you get this one?" Hermione asked as she kissed a puckered scar in the middle of his rib cage.
"Emergency surgery. I had a punctured lung."
Hermione shifted down to his abdomen right where his diaphragm would be. "And this one?"
"Rabastan Lestrange. My first year as a death eater," Severus said closing his eyes to give over to the sensations. Her lips were light as moisture was left in their wake.
Hermione moved even lower to his hip bone barely covered by the bedding. "Here?"
"Cut on a reef when I was collecting some rare ingredients," Severus answered, snapping his eyes open. He then swiftly drew her up his body so that his mouth could reach hers. Their lips barely moved as he mainly held her close to him. Holding the kiss as long as possible. He then rolled them over so that Hermione was on her back with Severus leaning over her.
"And what about this one?" Severus asked as he began to return the favor by kissing a pale silvery scar on her shoulder.
"Stray hex from a snatcher." Hermione, said amused by his antics. Hemione didn't have many scars. Her two most noticeable ones were two stories that Severus was quite familiar with. Her left arm held the word mudblood carved into her skin, from her brief time at Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix Lestrange. The other a purple scar that looked as though a knife was dragged along her torso ending at her hip. She survived a curse from Dolohov, a curse that Dolohov used to mark his victims. She survived it though, despite all odds. Nonetheless, Dolohov was displeased with this information and attempted to trace her with the magical residue from his curse. Luckily it was Severus all of those years ago that healed it and was able to block the trace on her.
"Hmm and the one right below the back of your knee?" Severus whispered in her ear, as he moved his hand along her body, down her thigh, until his hand reached the part of his inquiry.
"I fell out of a tree when I was a kid," Hermione moaned as his other hand began to roam her body. As if he didn't get enough of her last night. Clearly he wanted a repeat performance. Him being out of the country for so long left the pair craving the other affections more so than they expected.
