InsaneJournal

A Weak Patronus

 

                The pain went away eventually. Though, it was little consolation when Rabastan would be at it still, pounding away at him unprepared. He'd shudder and wait for it to be over, face stuck in a grimace. Rabastan Lestrange used to have other things against him. Nowadays, what he had against him was something Snape could not afford to reach Voldemort. Snape's Patronus was still a doe. He was obsessed with Lily Potter still, Merlin help him he was! But the main point was that he had a Patronus form at all. A true Death Eater, Rabastan had said, would not be able to produce a Patronus. Snape didn't want to have some sort of Patronus test happen. He'd probably be the winner, and gain himself a nice Avada Kedavra as prize.

 

                As he laid there being used like a Knockturn Alley whore, he wondered idly if he'd ever be able to produce a Patronus again. It was amazing that he always found he still could—it would have been terribly ironic if he had lost the ability, wouldn't it have been?

 

                Dumbledore didn't know. And Snape was sure it wouldn't do to tell him anyway. What was Albus Dumbledore going to be able to do in this case of blackmail? He'd almost gotten used to the pattern of being raped. The pattern of it, if not the act. God, the act would never fade in intensity, he didn't think.

 

                Lucky he was a potions master, really. Not only did the methodical brewing keep him sane some nights, but he never had to let anyone know about his weakness, his terrible, whimpering, sniveling Snivellus weakness. Sometimes he would wish someone could kill Rabastan for him, or, well, just anything to make him stop. But that hadn't ever worked for him before. Why should it now?

 

                "You're my favorite lay, Severus, you know that, don't you?" Sometimes he'd kiss his cheek and cackle like his mad sister-in-law, and Snape would pretend to shrink from the touch. Rabastan enjoyed that he shrank from the touch. He knew by now that if he didn't respond, Rabastan would do something to make him respond—it had happened before. "I like a good Snape rape," he'd say sometimes, either laughing or grinning or looking at him with that feral, sadistic lust. Snape hated seeing lust in anyone's eyes.

 

                It had started innocently enough (yeah right! When was anything in his life ever about innocence?). He would look at Rabastan Lestrange longingly. He hadn't known that was what he was doing. Heck, he hadn't known that two boys could have sex. But he soon learned.

 

                It was just "Suck it," at first, with muffled protest and a raw throat, then blank submission because, at least this person wasn't shying away from him like he was ugly. No, to Rabastan, he was fit for sex. Rabastan didn't care he was twitchy like a spider or greasy like an oil slick. Rabastan sought him out.

 

                Oh God, the pain of the first time. He had tried to stay strong, to not break down, but it only took a few minutes for all of his resolve to crumble, and he would have been bawling like a baby, but Rabastan had silenced him just in case he was "too vocal." Snape had had the suspicion that Rabastan just didn't want someone to come to his rescue. If someone had even cared enough—and no one had—he would not have been able to bear the humiliation.

 

                For it was humiliating, really, to feel so used by the one he'd somewhat trusted. Rabastan had softly berated him for crying as he cleaned and healed the insides of Severus's arse. "It's alright. With the way you're going on though, you'd think I killed you," he chuckled softly. "Really you can stop crying now, you know. The first time always hurts." Bloody, fucking liar. Every time hurt.

 

                Refusing to think about what happened, apart from when it happened, and, when possible, even then, was his mental defense of choice. He hated humiliating himself, weakening himself, so he ignored it as much as possible. This was what he did for his place in the group. This is what he did for his illusion of power.

 

                The initiation into the Death Eaters occurred, and then, when he refused to let Rabastan fuck him again (he'd even offered to suck him off instead!), there were a number of Death Eater initiates surrounding him.

 

                "We're all going to produce evidence against you to throw you in Azkaban if you don't, Snape," said Rodolphus, always one to stick up for his brother, "And if for some reason you think ‘Well, I'll turn him in first,' the rest of us will make you pay. Trust me. You don't want that."

 

                After those next times of forceful, silenced sex, he felt so alone he thought he may well just kill himself, until one day when Lucius Malfoy saw him in the Three Broomsticks and pulled him aside to ask him what was wrong. He just shook his head, black eyes almost tearing up again, explaining that he was sworn to secrecy. Just like with the Shrieking Shack incident.

 

                "Is it those 'marauders' again, Snape?" he said, a cold flash in his silver eyes.

 

                "No. Not them."

 

                "Mm. Well why don't you come along with me and I'll buy you something? A sugar quill? Perhaps a new winter cloak?"

 

                Snape just nodded a bit. You didn't usually contradict Malfoy, if only because he always seemed to be right.

 

                He actually became best friends with Lucius Malfoy. There was something about Lucius he liked. They had always liked each other, really. Whereas the current Death Eater students were a bit wild and carefree, Lucius had had restraint and poise. Lucius was graceful, eloquent, and poetic. In his relationships he seemed to be a romantic sap, as far as Slytherin standards went. But Severus didn't mind. He liked watching Lucius.

 

                Lucius tended to lie and to steal and to laugh at others' expense, but he was nothing like Bellatrix Black, who was so insane she herself would have taken up all the current Healers' attentions were she to be sent to Mungo's.

 

                He never told Lucius what was happening to him, and Lucius was in no way any sort of Legilimens (perhaps a bit too self-centered for that?). Lucius started going out with Narcissa Black, and Severus spent more time with her simply by association. "You're a nice boy, Severus. When are you going to start seeing someone?" she would tease.

 

                He wanted to reply, but just settled on flushing with embarrassment. His responses could only have made things awkward. "I'm actually seeing a Lestrange right now. Against my will. Isn't that dandy?" was odd, and "Never! I never want to have sex with anyone again, ever!" was odder still. So he settled on the flush.

 

                The relative innocence of how it all started became a frenzied mess. The Silencing Charm Rabastan originally placed on him was placed on the area around them instead, so that Severus's humiliating sounds could be heard. It served to make him want to cry even harder. Rabastan relished in Severus's pain—at that point, the fact was entirely evident.

 

                When Rodolphus and Bellatrix went to jail, Rabastan laid low for a while. He didn't come back after Voldemort's "defeat" by Lily's baby boy. Or at least he didn't come back until the return of the Dark Lord.

 

                Just after a Death Eater meeting, he had Apparated to a nearby alley. He had been so stupid not to wait until he was inside! Using a Tracing Spell to follow his Apparition, Rabastan came to ask if he'd have a go, a consensual one. Rabastan's eyes widened. He had appeared just in time to see a Patronus come out of Snape's wand and move away into the night.

 

                "You traitor!" he snarled. And that was the beginning of the return of Snape's other master. He still had nightmares about his days with Rabastan before, and now they were starting up again? Lord help him. It all would have been too weird to be true, if the pain weren't so stabbing. Now Rabastan even sometimes used the Cruciatus, just to watch him writhe. It turned the bastard on.

 

                He was furious with himself, but felt he was really dealing with it the best anyone could. He had no intention of being found out by Voldemort. Who knows what would have happened to him on a weekly—or more likely, a daily, hourly, by-the-minute—basis then! He would grit his teeth and bear it. He was safe in the knowledge that no one knew. Did that mean he still held his illusion of power? To answer "yes" to that was his only consolation, and he would damn well rip that consolation from the world around him if he had to use his teeth, his fingers, his everything.

 

                After he'd told Remus's secret to the world, he had been made to apologize and told he must prepare Wolfsbane for Remus for the duration of the rest of their lives, until one of them died first (or at least until Albus himself died). It was humiliating to Apparate to Lupin's flat with the potion in hand. He was not Lupin's personal caterer!

 

                To Lupin's credit, he never made snarky comments, and instead just curtly accepted the potion. Sometimes he even thanked him. Okay, most of the time he did. Okay, all of it, all of the time. Every month. It pissed Snape off, for some reason.

 

                After one disgusting, Rabastan-filled afternoon, he lay on the bed, shaking, staring at the clock. Eventually he'd have to pour some Wolfsbane and walk to the edge of the grounds. He slid off the bed carefully, cleaning and healing himself with long-familiar spells. He made himself look presentable and swallowed down more than the recommended dose of healing potion (So what if he overdosed?).

 

                He said nothing. His throat still felt raw from screaming. He merely handed Lupin the potion.

 

                "Thank you."

 

                He just gave a slight incline of the head and waited for his glass.

 

                Lupin gave him an odd look. "Would you like a cuppa?" When faced with a withering glare, Lupin merely added, "You seem pretty shaken-up. You-Know-Who?" He handed the goblet back.

 

                Snape snorted and shook his head, as if he almost wished it had been You-Know-Who, instead of You-Know-Who. He Apparated. Lupin wondered why he smelled blood on the man.

 

 

 

                The next few nights that he brought the potion, things happened as they normally had. Just simply a "Thank you" and that was it. But the night of the full moon was on a Saturday, and the night he had smelt blood on Snape had been a Sunday, and now it was the weekend again, not that that meant anything to Remus. But to Snape it meant Rabastan would probably be back. And he was.

 

                It was very stupid, but Snape allowed himself to fall asleep just after the next "visit", instead of paying attention to the clock. An hour before the full, Lupin decided it couldn't be put off any longer. He Apparated just outside Hogwarts grounds and made his way up to the school. He took down the wards to Snape's door enough to slip through them, and sat in Snape's living area. If the man were going to get mad, so be it.

 

                After getting tired of waiting, he needed to see if Snape was even in his quarters at all at the moment, and decided to poke around a bit and see if he couldn't find him, and, holy hell, he found him alright.

 

                "Severus!"

 

                Snape's eyes blinked open and he rolled his head onto his right cheek to stare at the intruder. "Lupin!" he rasped in shock, grasping the bloodied duvet around himself. "Out! Out!"

 

                Lupin shook his head, "I can't leave you. We've got to get Pomfrey. You lay back down, alright? Don't move."

 

                Snape shook his head, feeling a bit dizzy as he did. He stood up on shaky knees and moved over to Lupin, looking him straight in the eyes. "You tell no one."

 

                "But—!"

 

                "No one."

 

                "You . . . you were raped, weren't you? You can't just, just . . . ."

 

                "Just what?"

 

                "Just let him get away with it!"

 

                "I thought," he said, still very hoarse, but his tone harsh, "that you understood the importance of my being spy for the Order."

 

                "What?" he paused for a moment, confusion lining his face.

 

                "I am only going to say this once. You prosecute? I die. Though, now I've said it you may as well prosecute. That's what you want, isn't it, werewolf?" he said in a surprisingly silky whisper for being so hoarse.

 

                There was a very long moment in which Lupin's mind seemed to be roiling in utter turmoil. And then he said, "Fine. We won't prosecute. I won't call Pomfrey. But will you at least let me help you get healed?"

 

                "Don't touch me! It's not as if I am incapable of brewing healing salves."

 

                "Yes, but to reach the damage . . . ."

 

                "Your moon is calling," he said with a wave of dismissal. He watched Lupin back out of the still-open door to the bedroom, turn, and start to run. He smirked and slammed the door. Then he went back to the bed and laid there for what felt like an eon, the smirk dying rather abruptly.

 

               

 

                Remus Lupin stopped him the next time he brought the potion. He talked to him, and not just to thank him, no, to talk to him, as if he cared or as if Snape wanted him to (and he didn't!).

 

                "How are you?"

 

                "I'm fine."

 

                "Load of bullshit," he thought he heard Lupin mutter, and he turned back to look at him in surprise.

 

                "Wonderful grasp of the English language, Lupin. I mean, of all the words you could have chosen, that one is just perfect. Wonderful how civilized werewolves are, isn't it?"

 

                "You were raped."

 

                "Yes. And you're a werewolf."

 

                "Was it a lover?" asked Remus hesitantly.

 

                Snape snorted. "No. It was blackmail. Thanks to your wonderful little idea, actually."

 

                "What idea?"

 

                "Patronusgrams."

 

                Lupin frowned in confusion again. Snape Apparated.

 

 

               

                "Thank you." As Snape was giving his customary nod, though a bit tightly nowadays, he asked, "What do Patronusgrams have to do with anything?"

 

                "Are we still on about that?"

 

                "I want to know."

 

                "A werewolf with a sense of guilt. Rare indeed." Lupin crossed his arms and frowned. Snape liked this reaction, so he indulged the man. "Well, apparently I am the only ‘Death Eater' who can create a Patronus. So now it's just like the old days again. If he won't tell, I won't tell."

 

                "The old days?"

 

                Snape paused, knowing he'd gone too far.

 

                "This . . . this has been happening for h-how long?"

 

                Snape Apparated.

 

 

 

                "How old were you? Were we in school?"

 

                Snape ran a finger over his lips in thought.

 

                "We were in school weren't we? Who was it, another Slytherin?"

 

                "Well besides your little pal Wormtail, there weren't many Death Eaters from other houses, now were there?"

 

                "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." There were tears in Lupin's eyes, and the sight of them made Snape take a step back. "I won't tell Dumbledore, or the Ministry, or anyone, I promise."

 

                Snape paused for a moment, that finger still running over his lips in thoughtfulness as he appeared to have something to say, thought better of it, and Apparated.

 

 

               

                "Do you think maybe you could teach Lucius?"

 

                "Teach Lucius to what?"

 

                "To perform a Patronus."

 

                Snape stared at him. He was shocked by how good this idea was. And it was from Lupin.

 

                "You're friends, aren't you?"

 

                He nodded. He paused for a moment. "That, Lupin, is not a half-bad idea."

 

                Lupin gave him an encouraging smile.

 

 

 

                "Now remember," said Snape, watching Lucius's winged horse Patronus finally take form and then start to fly away, "you taught me. I didn't teach you."

 

                Lucius nodded. "Thanks, Severus," he said, watching the Patronus until it disappeared into the sky.

 

                "You're welcome," said Snape. They both knew it was really Snape who should be thanking Lucius, but Lucius was a little weird, and Snape wasn't about to try and correct the situation.

 

                "I'd invite you in for tea, but I'm worn out," said Lucius, and he really did look like it had taken a lot out of him to learn that particular spell.

 

                "Some other time, then, Lucius," said Snape, and Lucius waved lethargically as he watched Severus Floo back home.