Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1975446.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Sirius_Black/James_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Additional Tags:
      Past_Child_Abuse, Angst, Dark, Marauders_era, Rape/Non-con_Elements,
      Violence, Mind_Games, Bondage, OOC
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-18 Words: 4296
****** Slippage ******
by lollipop_swirls
Summary
     “Power is a strange thing, Severus, once you taste a little, you just
     want more.”
Notes
     Please pay attention the warnings - if you're triggered by non-con,
     child abuse, violence do not read this!!
     Also a warning for OOC Potter and Black (I really didn't like them
     very much at the time of writing this fic)
See the end of the work for more notes
He was in the library, his books open and scattered about the table, his
parchment in front of him. It was late, the candle had burned low, but he could
still hear the music and laughter from the Great Hall and knew that it was no
use heading back to the Common Room just yet. From the sound of things, the
party was just beginning.
His quill lay forgotten, ink stain spreading unhindered on his carefully
scripted assignment. The snow was still falling, silent, outside the window and
he watched it absently.
He didn’t have time for parties, all things considered. He was too busy, what
with all the extra credit he had taken on this year. It wasn’t the party that
disturbed him anyway. It was something else, something in a dream or a memory,
a whisper in the back of his mind.
He frowned. The feeling that something was amiss had been steadily growing in
him over the past few months, ever since Potter and Black had called a so-
called truce to their on-going prank war - not that he wasn’t relieved, but it
made no sense. Why, after four years, would they suddenly stop?
He hated them of course, that went without question, but it was more than that;
he just couldn’t put his finger on what.
The door opened and the librarian, Madam Pince, peered in at him.
“You’re still here, Severus,” her voice was stern but also curious; she was no
doubt wondering why he wasn’t at the ball. He gave her one of his better scowls
and reached for his books.
“I was just leaving.”
She didn’t attempt to talk to him again, and he was grateful for it – he didn’t
have to explain himself to anybody.
It was colder in the corridor and he pulled his cloak tight around him,
keeping, out of habit, to the shadows. The unease he had felt in the library
seemed to press upon him triple-fold, and he walked with his chin on his
shoulder, watching his back. His footsteps echoed.
He rounded the corner, hand moving instinctively to his wand; this could just
be paranoia but he very much doubted it.
A shadow moved in front of him and another behind, he pulled out his wand but
they were too quick. One grabbed his wand arm, at the wrist, and twisted
violently; he howled in expected pain and let his wand fall to the floor; and,
at almost the same time, the other punched him hard in the stomach.
He doubled over, clutching his wrist, and stared up at them, wildly, through
his curtain of hair – the second punch hit him in the face and he fell,
unconscious, to the floor.
***
He lifted his head slowly and blinked. There was light nearby, a lantern
hanging from a tree. He stared at it blankly. It was cold; flakes of snow
gently brushed his cheeks and lighted in his eyelashes. He glanced up, seeing
the sky far above, the stars shining brightly.
There was a crunch behind him, a twig snapped.
He tried to stand only to find that his hands were tied, painfully tight,
behind his back. His heart fluttered somewhere near his throat. Beyond his
circle of light was impenetrable darkness and no matter how hard he strained he
couldn’t see a thing. With difficulty, he pushed himself to his feet.
There was a movement over to his left and he turned his head instantly in that
direction – nothing. There was another movement close by, to his right now. A
shadow disengaged itself from the trees. He was so focussed on it, standing
just outside the light, unmoving, that he didn’t see the other until it was
right on top of him.
He was slammed hard against a tree, and held there.
He knew who it was even though he couldn’t see; there was something in the
lithe body pressed against him that was too familiar for comfort. He struggled,
but with his hands tied and his face pushed into the bark, he could do little
more than wriggle – which under the circumstances wasn’t a brilliant idea.
“Let me go!” he shouted and, in response, his tie was loosened and forced into
his mouth.
“The rules have changed, Snape,” Black murmured. “Don’t you remember?”
The sweat began to bead on his skin and he struggled anew, knowing that it was
useless. Black, seeming to read his mind, turned him round, roughly, to face
him. Severus recognised that hungry look in those blue eyes.
Black smiled at him, that boyish-rogue smile that had all the girls falling
into bed with him, and he felt sick. Not breaking eye contact, Black put his
hands on Severus’ chest and began to slowly undo the buttons of his shirt.
Both anger and fear bubbled up in him and, turning suddenly and violently, he
broke free – but, with the firm hold gone, he merely fell to his knees and
couldn’t get back up.
“I don’t mind you on your knees, Snape.” Black muttered, the suggestion plain
in his voice.
Disgusted, Severus pushed himself back to his feet and turned to face Black –
he knew he had nowhere to go but he wasn’t going to simply give up. His
breathing was ragged and harsh and he swung his hair out of his eyes. Black
took a step forward and he took a step back; he turned and ran.
Black was on him in a heartbeat, the full force of his weight pinning him to
the ground, winding him. His head was pulled up and slammed back down into the
grass – his vision swam. He was pulled to his feet and shoved against another
tree, his face once again pushed into the bark - the jagged wood cut into his
cheek.
Black’s breath was heavy in his ear.
“Why do you always have to fight?” He asked, frustrated, and punched him
viciously in the ribs - his knees buckled and he would have fallen if it
weren’t for the tree.
“Do you need a hand, Sirius?” Potter asked obligingly and moved into the
clearing.
Black dragged him to a low hanging branch, forced him to his knees and held him
there. Potter, now standing behind him, methodically began to untie his hands;
he brought them up over his head and tied them once more, slipping his bound
wrists over the branch.
Severus glowered at them hatefully.
There was a tree-stump near to where Potter stood and spotting it, he sat,
content, it seemed, to wait. Black, however, moved towards him.
He closed his eyes. He knew what was coming. The memories clung to him now like
a fine mist. He remembered it all. And he hated them.
Black’s hands were on his chest, he could feel the fingertips as they lightly
worked on the buttons; he could feel the heat as the palms brushed against him.
Hands on his skin now, warm and clammy; his shirt was pushed open and away – it
gathered around his shoulders and hung loose.
Fingers trailed down his chest and came to rest at his abdomen. He flinched and
opened his eyes, breathing deeply. Black’s fingers traced the scar tissue.
~~~
‘No, father, no,’ he struggled, trying to break the hold his father had on his
upper arms. He was shaken with such force that his head spun and the blow
across his face stung and made his eyes water. His father slammed him down,
face first, on the kitchen table.
“Are you going to fight me, Severus?” he muttered angrily in his ear and then
he laughed. “You’re just a child.”
He tried to push himself up and away, only serving to anger his father more. He
was spun around, coming face to face with those cold, hateful eyes; the breath
smelled overwhelmingly of alcohol.
“You’re going to fight me?”
“No, father.” He could hear the fear in his own voice and hated himself for
showing it; he just wanted to be back upstairs in his room. He blinked back the
tears.
“Come on then, Severus.”
The first punch hit him in the ribs, the second in his face.
“Father, don’t!” He gasped through the pain. He could hear his mother hammering
futilely on the locked door, begging him to stop - not again. He tried to
protect himself against the onslaught, fighting to get away, knowing that he
was only making things worse, knowing that he should just stop.
His father was beyond reason. He was trying to get a hold on his arms, trying
to get control over him, but he couldn’t.
“I’ll kill you, you little bastard.”
The knife flashed between them.
“Father, no!”
The strong hand caught him round the neck and squeezed; and, as he struggled to
breathe, the knife came down. He screamed. His father stepped away. The knife
fell.
~~~
“What’s this?” Black muttered inquisitively and took a step back; Severus met
his gaze with unconcealed contempt.
Black shrugged and swiftly unbuckled Severus’ belt.
“I know you want this, you always want this,” he breathed in his ear. “You
little whore.”
Black leaned in and licked his cheek; he yanked his face away, revolted and
defiant. The punch caught him on the jaw and his head snapped back; there was
blood in his mouth. He knew that Potter was watching them closely and his skin
shivered.
Black’s hands were on him again; fingers dexterously unfastened his zipper and
slowly pushed down his trousers. Despite himself he struggled anew, even though
he knew it was useless. Habit. The leaves crunched beneath Black’s feet and
Severus could feel the heat from his body. The air was charged. Black was so
close it was suffocating – his hands were on him, his sides, his hips -
There was bare flesh between his thighs.
With no further warning, Black positioned himself and pushed forward.
He inhaled sharply, the pain only lasted a moment; his body opened to Black
easily, as he knew it would - they had had him so often now that there was no
resistance. He groaned at the familiar touch, the stroke of hard flesh inside
him. Black’s breath was heavy on his face; his gaze locked with Severus’,
pupils dilated, so dark they mirrored his own.
Holding Black’s eyes intently, he rocked his hips, taking him further inside.
Things had gone too far to fight, so he wasn’t going to – none of this was new
to him. He could either fight and lose or go with it.
“Little slut,” Black laughed softly, “I told you, you want this.”
Severus hated him.
He could hear the insects in the undergrowth, could smell Black – musky and
feral. Neither of them moved.
“The thing is, Snape,” Potter spoke easily from his tree-stump, “you’re ours.”
Severus’ gaze snapped to him instantly. “You just don’t realise it most of the
time, is all.”
Severus hated him too. Even from this distance he could see that Potter was
aroused.
Black moved within him, pulling slowly out before thrusting back in. He let his
head fall back and stared up at the midnight sky, rocking smoothly with each
penetration; his faint gasps and sighs drifted up to the stars. Black’s lips
were on his neck, kissing, and licking, sucking - the breath on his skin made
him moan.
Hands caressed him, owned him.
He felt the tears begin to well up in his eyes and blinked them back. He
wouldn’t cry.
Black groaned, his movements fast and desperate, and Severus responded to him.
His own body needed, wanted –
The stars blurred above him. He wasn’t crying.
- and then, it was over.
Black came and, almost as soon, pulled out.
Severus sagged back down to his knees – desperate, needy – his own erection
still pulsing and hot. Sweat dripped into his eye, stung, and he stared at
Black’s retreating back, beseechingly, his heartbeat rapid.
“He’s all yours,” Black breathed unevenly in Potter’s direction.
Potter stretched and stood up, brushing the snow out of his hair; he opened his
robe as he approached, gaze intent and keen. Severus knew how he must have
looked, naked and sweating and hard.
He met Potter’s stare wearily.
Potter smiled, his eyes half-lidded, and pulled the gag from his mouth.
“Do you want to ask for something?” Potter enquired, considering, “beg,
perhaps?”
“You’ll be sorry,” he breathed, “I swear.”
“You always say that, Severus,” Potter replied simply, his tone one of pity,
“and I don’t ever remember being made sorry.”
Black laughed quietly and shook his head – they exchanged a look.
Severus kept his mouth shut; he wasn’t going to entertain them anymore than he
had to.
“What?” Potter asked in mock surprise, “No witty retort? None of that sarcasm
we love so much?”
He remained silent. Potter ran a finger along his jaw, down his throat - and
paused.
“What’s this, Sirius, a love bite? Marking your property now?”
“Well, it was either that or piss on him,” Black responded with a shrug. They
both burst into laughter.
Severus pulled away from Potter’s touch.
“You’ll pay,” he promised. “Both of you.”
Potter pulled the gag back up and tied it painfully over his mouth,
deliberately brushing against his arousal. He arched into the contact, his need
instantly overriding any other emotion.
“Sirius, don’t be cruel – he’s been such a good boy tonight.” Potter muttered
and they exchanged yet another look – he knew what that meant, too.
Black stepped in front of him and, with no more thought, took him in hand. He
gasped and jerked forward, desperately trying to, trying to – Black pumped him
once, twice. He was vaguely aware that Potter was behind him - he could feel
hands resting on his hips, moving with his thrusts - he could feel Potter
rubbing against him.
Black pumped him again, and again – the hold on him was firm, fingers squeezed,
providing just enough friction.
Oh God.
A thumbnail was flicked up under his foreskin and he cried out – his vision
blurred and, panting heavily, he came. The hand was yanked away immediately and
Black, making a disgusted noise somewhere in the back of his throat, reached
down, picked up Severus’ robe and wiped his hands clean.
He sagged once more, his heart hammering in his chest, his breaths ragged.
He just wanted to sleep.
Potter pushed him forward, violently, and he slid from the branch, falling on
to his hands and knees.
“I’m not done yet, Severus.”
~~~
“I’m not done yet, Severus,” he turned back to face his father. “Come and sit
here with me."
Reluctantly he moved across the living room and sat down in the chair opposite,
noting the parchments shattered on the tabletop – his school report was among
them. He looked from it to his father, resignedly.
“Is mother home?”
“No, it’s just me and you, Severus.”
Neither of them spoke, but he would have been foolish to hope that it would
stay that way. His father reached forward and picked up his report.
“So, it seems we have a genius in the family,” the malice was clear and Severus
cringed.
“No, father.”
He was ignored – his father was only looking for an excuse.
“I suppose you think you’re smarter then me.”
“No, sir.” The desperation was starting to creep into his voice. His father
stared at him unwavering.
“Let me tell you something, Severus,” he spoke quietly, “there is far more to
life then books and reading.”
Before he could stop him, his father grabbed up his school bag – all his most
treasured notebooks, his parchments, and books.
“It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” he continued, as he riffled
through his belongings. He took out his potions notebook – the culmination of a
year’s independent study, his own theories and procedures - flicked through it
and then nonchalantly threw it into fire.
Severus jumped to his feet and would have reached into the flames to retrieve
it, but was yanked back and thrown into the chair.
“Being an insufferable know-it-all will get you nowhere.”
He watched powerlessly as, one by one, his books, his essays, were burned. He
watched the flames, blankly, as they consumed everything. His attention was
only brought back to his father when he picked another parchment up off the
table and threw it at him.
He blinked and looked down, recognising Professor McGonagall’s writing
immediately – his stomach flipped - was she deliberately trying to get him
killed?
“Father, I didn’t do anything.”
“So your Professor is lying?” there was a warning note to his fathers voice.
“I didn’t mean that,” he searched his mind, “it’s just that she’s Gryffindor.”
“What did I tell you would happen if I got another one of these letters?”
“I didn’t do anything, father, please.” his fear was indisguisable – damn
McGonagall, damn the Marauders, damn them all to Hell.
His father moved towards him and he ran - he was only half way up the stairs
when he was caught from behind and flung back down.
There was no escape.
~~~
Potter knelt behind him, his shadow shrouding Severus like a blanket,
enveloping him in darkness. He just wanted it to be over, wanted to be back in
the Slytherin common room - in his own place. The sweat slowly dried on his
skin, the cold made him shiver violently.
He barely reacted as Potter entered his tired body.
He could find no slight enjoyment now, he was spent, and Potter knew it - his
movements were slow and deliberate as though he intended to stretch this
torment out all night. Severus’ arms ached and he folded them in front of him
on the ground, resting his forehead in the crock of one elbow.
Potter continued to move above him, inside him, softly caressing. Severus
closed his eyes.
The kick in his ribs woke him with a jolt.
Black was laughing, hard, clutching at his stomach. Severus swallowed, trying
to clear his mind, trying to understand what had happened. Potter was still
behind him, but no longer inside him; he could practically feel the waves of
hatred washing over him.
“He fell asleep,” Black rasped through his laughter and clapped Potter on the
shoulder. “That’s just classic, really Snape, classic.”
Potter slowly stood up.
Severus didn’t move.
Black fell silent, the smile dying on his lips.
“I’ll teach you,” Potter muttered; the anger literally bristled out of every
pore.
Severus pushed himself up onto his knees and Potter kicked him back down again,
his boot digging into his shoulder blades. He couldn’t move. The snow was
falling thickly around him. His heart hammered against his chest as Potter
grabbed his shirt by the collar and ripped it off his back.
“What’re you gonna do?” Black asked.
“I’m going to teach him to respect me,” Potter spat. “Give me your belt, Siri.”
Severus watched, incredulous, as Black started to unbuckle his belt; the worn,
supple leather slipped loose and brushed the snow at his feet.
He struggled to push himself up but Black placing a foot on the back of his
neck, preventing any further movement. Potter reached out, took the belt,
folded it in two and stood back.
“Are you sure about this?” Black asked judiciously.
“He won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” Potter responded dismissively, flexed
the leather, once, twice, and then brought it down across Severus’ back. He
arched into the pain - the tie in his mouth muffling any noise he made. The
belt cracked above his head and then came down again; he bit into the green and
silver fabric - the tears welled up in his eyes.
Potter’s breath was coming fast and ragged.
The next lash was harder and he felt his skin welt, burn.
Black licked his lips.
Potter raised the belt again, and then changed his mind; he let it fall to his
side and then coil to the ground. Severus, his chest heaving, pushed up against
Black’s foot and Black moved away. They were all silent. He reached for his
shirt and cautiously and quickly pulled it on, wrapping the flimsy material
around him as protection.
“We should get back to the school,” Potter offered into the dark.
“Yeah, sure,” Black agreed and reached for the lantern; the shadows swung
wildly, making the world seem to blur; making it all even more surreal.
“It’s a shame you won’t remember any of this, Snape,” Potter stated. “It might
have done you some good.”
Severus glared at him.
“Where is Remus anyway?” Black muttered, staring into the darkness.
Potter scanned the trees and, as if on cue, Lupin appeared - “Never far.”
Black smiled and drifted over to Lupin, slipped an arm around his waist and
pulled him into a kiss; Severus looked away but, out of the corner of his eye,
he saw Lupin pull back.
“Just go back to school, Sirius,” Lupin said quietly.
“You’ll take care of everything here, right?” Black asked, nodding in Severus’
direction. Potter had already disappeared into the trees.
“Just go.” Lupin repeated and this time Black acquiesced, leaving him and Lupin
alone. They stared at each other for a moment before Lupin reached into his
robe and removed his wand.
“I’m really sorry about all this, Severus,” he shrugged, as if to show how
helpless he was to do anything. Severus would have laughed if it weren’t for
the tie still in his mouth – pathetic.
“Obliviate.”
***
Every muscle in his body seemed to ache; he stretched out along the bed and
moaned as his tendons objected; he couldn’t think of anything he’d recently
done that could cause him to feel this bad. The dormitory was empty, everyone
else having gone to the Quidditch match, and he lazily rolled out of bed.
“I came to see you last night,”
He gaze instantly snapped to the bed opposite his own. Lucius rested against
one of the wooden posts, watching him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, feigning nonchalance, as he wondered into
the bathroom; his heart was beating somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.
“What do you think I’m doing here?”
Severus didn’t answer, he knew exactly what Lucius wanted and he felt his
body’s reaction at the mere thought – he refused to be had so easily this time,
though. Standing in front of the mirror he examined his body, looking for
anything out of the ordinary – anything that might explain why he felt so bad
this morning. Nothing.
He frowned, that feeling of wrongness once again returning, making him uneasy.
“I said, I came to see you last night, Severus.”
“So, why didn’t you see me?” He replied, only half his mind focussed on Lucius;
he turned around and stared at his back, expecting to see – what? Something.
There was nothing.
“I did see you,” there was a tone to Lucius’ voice that made his blood run
cold, his arousal dying even before it was fully born, “you were busy.”
Severus met his own gaze in the mirror, before turning away and walking back
into the dorm room. Lucius hadn’t moved.
“Lucius…?” he didn’t really know what he wanted to ask, didn’t really know if
he wanted an answer.
Their eyes met across the room and Severus knew then that something was very
wrong.
“What was I doing last night?” he asked reluctantly, “I don’t remember.”
Lucius stepped away from the four-poster bed, and unexplained fear gripped
Severus’ heart.
“It has something to do with Potter and Black, doesn’t it?”
Lucius was so close that he could feel the warmth from his body, but now,
rather than feeling aroused, he felt afraid, afraid to be so near -
“Let me show you, Severus.”
Lucius took out his wand and, muttering a quiet spell, placed the tip at
Severus’ temple.
The memories instantly flooded his mind, one after another, like a
kaleidoscope. He clutched at his head, closed his eyes, trying to keep them
out, trying to escape the truth – he didn’t want to know after all, he’d
changed his mind. He felt himself falling, and Lucius catch him; he felt the
covers under him. He shouted loud enough to drown the noise in his head but he
couldn’t stop the images.
The things they’d done to him, to him!
- His cheek grazing against the rough surface of the wall with each
thrust…Black watching him intently… His eyes closing, too tired to fight
anymore…
- Lupin healing any visible marks…
- Gagging, trying to breath...Black in his mouth, pushing down his throat…His
head pulled back from behind, giving Black complete access...Fingers in his
hair, breath in his ear…Potter inside him, pounding into him…
- Lupin wiping his memory…
- Hands on him, holding him down…him struggling…tears in his eyes…Potter
kissing him possessively…Black squeezing him, pumping him…making him gasp,
making him moan, making him beg…
- Lupin whispering how sorry he was…how he wished he could do something…how
helpless he was…
- The pain, such pain…no reprieve…both inside him…on his back so Potter can see
his face…
- Lupin kissing him…so gently…
He heard the sobs, his sobs. He heard Lucius, his tone soft, promising. Slowly,
he opened his eyes and stared at Lucius.
“I want them to pay for what they’ve done to me,” he spoke shakily, in between
deep breaths, “I want to make them sorry.”
“And you will, Severus, I’ll make sure of that.”
***
“The rules have changed, Black,” he murmured. “Didn’t you realise?”
He removed his mask and placed it on top of his robes, the Dark Mark was clear
on his skin. Black recognised him instantly, it had only been six months since
they had left Hogwarts, and he began to fight again, struggling to get free,
but the spell that held him was strong.
Severus watched him for a short time before taking out his wand.
“Now, you pay.”
End Notes
     This was originally posted on Skyehawke back in 2005 (!!) would you
     believe?! Apologies for my not so great writing style - I've learned
     a lot in the past 9 years...
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!