Hello friends! This is my current WIP which is still unfinished. There are some darker themes involved, a lot of manipulation and a slightly dark Severus.
It is currently unfinished, but I have ten chapters completed which I will post weekly.
Let me know your thoughts.
"This mudblood Severus," the Dark Lord hisses, his long, frigid fingers digging into Severus's cheeks with the same ferocity that he employs to penetrate his memories. "This… Miss Granger, she is a friend of the Potter boy is she not?"
Flashes of Miss Granger swirl to the front of his mind like colourful, enchanting smoke as his master attempts to split his head in half with his eagerness. Severus can feel the Dark Lord's excitement peak as he draws up numerous images of the girl.
She sits in the front row of his class, her amber eyes following his every move. Her face heats, turning her cheeks pink as Severus peers at her unwavering gaze, she finally looks away.
"Yes my Lord," Severus finally croaks out.
The girl bites her bottom lip as Severus taps a long finger on the surface of her desk.
"Sufficient Miss Granger," he drawls before sweeping away, all too aware that the girl is watching his departure with equal measures of elation and disappointment.
"She seems eager to please teacher, wouldn't you say?"
"The child is insufferable, my Lord."
"You no doubt are aware of her affection?"
"Yes my Lord," Severus answers honestly.
"You will seduce her—" his master announces matter-of-a-factly, finally retreating from his mind painfully "—or allow her to seduce you, whichever you find comes more naturally."
Severus is breathing hard trying to recover from the onslaught, his mind feels fractured from his master's ungraceful prodding. He finds it difficult to comprehend what is being asked of him.
He knows better than to argue with this unhinged lunatic and yet he must.
"Dumbledore watches her closely, my Lord," he says, eyes downcast.
"Can't say I blame him— or you — she is quite the delectable little mudblood."
Severus is still, his feeble argument has fallen on deaf ears it seems.
"I look forward to recounting those particular memories with you my boy, don't be too gentle with her, give me a good show. You are dismissed."
Whisky burns his throat as Severus sits alone in his dungeon quarters. His new position of Defence Professor did not come with a room upgrade, he is sure this is due to Slughorn demanding a room above ground, but truth be told, he doesn't mind, he has always liked the dungeons. He enjoys watching the eerie green tones as they dance rhythmically against the stone walls.
He should be sitting in front of his second master, recounting his latest meeting and attempting to find a solution to his newest assignment— one that he is sure will not involve fucking his student.
There is a part of him that is reeling with anger, disgusted and horrified that the Dark Lord would order this of him. He has spent years avoiding revels and any such vile activity, his master knows he is anything but interested in sexual slavery or raping muggles.
He supposed that the time might come when his loyalty would be tested in this manner, but with Granger?
Severus shudders at the thought.
She is attractive— very attractive— and he is more than aware that the chit harbours an inappropriate attraction for him, but to sleep with a student is an abhorrent thought.
At least she is of age. That's something to cling to. Granger is by Wizarding standards an adult and free to fuck whom ever she might choose. There are rules for staff however. Sleeping with one's student is strictly forbidden.
"Fuck," he yells, sending his tumbler crashing against his living room wall.
He will have to involve Albus in this. Otherwise his position as a professor might be in danger, that isn't something he can risk.
The part of him that isn't livid with this situation disgusts him.
His long suppressed libido has peaked its interest at the idea of Miss Granger writhing beneath him. Severus keeps her at arms length for a reason. The girl would no doubt pop her inexplicably eager mouth open at the drop of a hat if he allowed it.
He adjusts his trousers to accommodate his growing arousal at the idea of Granger on her knees.
Never once has he considered fucking a student. There have been a handful of whom he could have lured into his bed, none quite as obvious or eager as Granger though.
The girl is obvious in only the way a young Gryffindor can. Severus can still recall the first time she showed interest.
Her fourth year found the girl flustered and flushed under his tutelage in a way he hadn't noticed before. He imagines his protective instincts from third year had cast a new light on him in her eyes. Throwing yourself at the mercy of a werewolf to protect someone will do that he supposes.
He amped up his cruelty towards her after that.
It is terribly distracting, having her unwavering attention. Severus does his best to ignore her heated cheeks, her abused bottom lip and the occasional scent of her arousal he detects when he is nearby.
Now he has not only been given permission to take her, but it has been demanded of him.
The Dark Lord will not accept anything less than a detailed account of Hermione Granger's cunt and Severus loathes himself at the thrill it sends through him.
If he must complete the task, he will certainly find it difficult not to take pleasure from burying himself deep inside the girl.
She will need to be properly prepared if she is still a virgin. He will need to sample her nectar from the source and send her tumbling into unequivocal bliss before attempting to slide his cock inside her.
He palms himself through his trousers. He is straining painfully against his fly and must find relief before seeking out the headmaster.
Masturbating is a joy he seldom allows himself, he is undeserving of such pleasures.
Cock in hand he closes his eyes and drifts away towards Miss Granger, the siren who calls to him.
He pumps slowly at first as he imagines her spread out across his sheets— restrained perhaps, or with a rubber ball between her teeth— her thighs quivering with the anticipation of finally having his undivided attention and rapturous approval.
How might she taste, he wonders? Sweet? Musky? Will he be able to feast on her only once?
His fist moves faster now as he visualises her curls thrown wildly against his pillow, her back arched and thighs muffling his hearing.
When he has her shuddering under his tongue he will leave no time before he fucks her senseless.
Come stains his trousers and splatters his crisp white shirt as Severus cries his release.
His hand continues to stroke lazily as he comes down from his peak and calms his breathing and his mind.
Wordlessly he cleans up the mess her image has created.
It will be easier to face Albus now.
He tucks his softened member back into his trousers, dons his frock coat and cloak— his armour.
Severus ponders for a moment on his best means of communicating his task with Dumbledore. He is committed to this now, and if the headmaster were to take away this opportunity he might lose his mind.
It is terrifying how quickly the idea of crawling on top of her has warped his mind.
He has done everything that has been asked of him for his masters— far too much— it's time that a task brings him some physical pleasure, he can deal with the mountain of self-hatred he will likely feel post-coitus once the time comes.
Self-hatred is already ingrained into his very soul. This will just be another rock on the tethering pile before it inevitably comes tumbling down.
The idea has wedged its way into his brain now. Hermione Granger is burrowing through grey matter and is spreading her legs across his subconscious, leaving a trail of lust and feral energy he hardly thought himself capable of.
She does battle with his better nature, the human part, the part that keeps him locked up in Hogwarts whispering secrets to Albus and The Order.
Lust and guilt fight for control of him— the marionette.
He straightens himself to his full height and locks his Occlumency shields firmly in place.
It is eleven-fifteen-pm and he knows the headmaster awaits his retelling of this evening's summons. There is nothing for it but to face the music and plead his part as an unwilling victim. He supposes it is not entirely untrue, there is a large part of him that is unwilling.
Usually he takes the Floo but tonight the halls are calling him. He must find a way to dampen the fire still burning hotly under his skin.
The gargoyle which guards the headmaster's office and suite from harm springs aside without prompting as Severus approaches. For a moment he tilts his head to one side, watching the stone guardian with a curious gaze.
Wouldn't life be easier if he were made of stone and devoid of emotion. To live life with his Occlumency shields as a permanent fixture.
His choice to walk was the correct one.
His shields protected him from the wayward thoughts that may have otherwise distracted him while the cool night air that hung in the halls calmed his burning skin.
It would not bode well to present himself in any way eager for the task set before him.
Certainly the Dark Lord would be delighted, Dumbledore however would likely be disgusted further by Severus.
"You disgust me."
Those very words muttered by Albus so many moons ago are scorched into his mind, a seeping stain on what still remains of his soul.
It might have been the first time since childhood that another human had shared Severus's own feelings about himself. For a time he thought perhaps his father might have felt the same way, but over time, he had realised there was nothing there, no feelings— not even disgust.
Disgust was putting it mildly when it came to his own self reflection.
He is a vile, hateful excuse for a man. The young impressionable, power-hungry teen who fell head first into the arms of Voldemort still lives in him. Try as he might, he is unable to fully shake off this deplorable part of himself. It is ingrained as deeply as his self-loathing.
The stairs ascend him far too quickly and Severus finds himself face to face with the large ornate door that separates him from Albus.
He knocks.
"Enter," Albus calls from within.
A cleansing breath and he palms the door open, presented with the image of Dumbledore sitting patiently behind his desk.
"Severus, I thought, perhaps you might not come."
"I almost did not," he says mournfully.
"Ah my boy, what ails you?"
"It is unthinkable Albus," he says, casting his eyes down.
"Even more unthinkable than aiding the Malfoy boy in my murder?" Albus waves a blackened hand as he reminds Severus of yet another teetering task.
He wonders if there are any happy memories to associate with this room. Can he think of a single moment in time when he felt; joy, happiness or even indifference in this gaudy place.
Severus can't recall.
"I'm afraid so."
"May I see?" Albus asks softly.
It sounds like a request, but Severus has learned from experience; what Albus wants, he gets, whether willingly or by force. It is not a common occurrence that he need use strength in attaining the knowledge he seeks. Most occupants of his presence are unaware or incapable of blocking his onslaught.
His body moves him forward until he is seated under Albus's unwavering scrutiny.
Their eyes lock after a moment of hesitation from Severus. Before he might look away— if he was so inclined— Albus enters his mind. It is more subtle than the Dark Lord's intrusion, almost comforting and very familiar. A warmth spreads through him— it isn't unpleasant.
The staff and students often speak of Albus and his kindly, soft and gentle nature. They are not wrong. Even as he worms into Severus's mind in much the same manner as the Dark Lord it is a joy to experience.
Love and hope radiate through him and it is addictive. He might drink down the experience, and in the past he has. Severus feels safe and wanted— but he knows better. His memories are lined up, each one meticulously resurfaced with the constructed story he wishes to tell.
Albus and Voldemort might be more proficient in Legilimency than he, but he could wager that neither could construct a memory in as much depth of detail. It is not a skill he can teach. It is inherent and something he is certain that he has created.
The mind of an abused child is a curious thing, it excels at creating a more agreeable and bendable environment. When a boy spends every waking hour living outside of his home and lost in a space hanging between reality and fantasy he becomes proficient at finding that peace regardless of his surroundings.
As the headmaster enters his thoughts, constructed memories are displayed. Each one telling a story which Severus has narrated intentionally to placate and engage Albus.
Finally, the headmaster retreats from his twice penetrated mind.
These nights are a drain on both his body and his abilities. Two intrusions in one night are a sure-fire way to ensure he will be unbearable in the classroom tomorrow.
"Severus."
His name is a prayer from Albus's mouth as the older man retreats, his exclusion from Severus's mind is a gentle caress— one might even feel loved.
"I am truly sorry that Tom has asked something so heinous— so inexcusable of you," Dumbledore says with an expected bow of his head.
These two dictators ask as much of him and both scramble to play the white knight, but Severus is no fool. White knights don't require submission, they are not expectant of such subservience.
"It is unfortunate," Albus says sadly, "but I cannot see a way out. If Tom does not witness your conquest of Miss Granger, I fear it will harm your position." Severus suppresses a satisfied smirk.
"You simply must— "
"Headmaster—"
"You know better," the older man warns, "call me Albus."
He recalls emotions that are long lost and his body tenses momentarily.
"Albus," he whispers, "I cannot."
"Are you not but a man Severus? Of blood, flesh and longing?" The headmaster pierces him with a look of intent. "Tap into it."
Severus feigns outrage and disgust— turning away.
"Lily's memory is not lost on the ramblings of a madman. You are still noble in this cause."
A scoff hangs in his throat.
"I must?"
"Yes," Albus pleads with an almost concerned tone, "you must."
The task is set in motion. Each master has given his blessing and Severus is their willing pawn once again. Determined to erase his past.
The Granger girl has been stitched into his redemption without knowing. Severus can't help but think she might accept her fate without argument if she was privy. Kindness and compassion radiates from her in abundance, if he were to crawl to her now with a crack in his armour, tears in his eyes, he has no doubt that she would open her legs to him.
"You may go, rest up and refocus. Miss Granger will come to understand in time that she plays an integral part in the survival of 'The Light'."
He rises from his seat forlorn and exhausted. The headmaster watches him with pity and aversion spreading across his features.
The hallway of the third floor greets him like a lover in need. Cool night air kisses his cheeks as he contemplates his night.
It is unprecedented that he might leave a double intrusion feeling almost hopeful.
His seduction of the Granger girl is set in motion. Severus has but no choice to pursue her previously unwanted affection.
With that in mind he seeks out his bed.
A plan of seduction will most definitely come easier to a rested mind.
He can only hope that the girl will bend to his will without question. Much like the idealistic version of her that lives in his mind.
Severus is not familiar with the idea of luring a woman into his bed— usually they are paid for such activities— of course, her existing attraction is sure to hurry things along.
Very soon he is to discover just how much of a mountain the corruption of Miss Granger might be.
The hallway is cold and quiet, unlike the thoughts that he has tucked safely away.