magic_helmet

Title: The Veil
Author: magic_helmet
(Fandom)Pairing: Harry Potter - Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,647
Summary: Unfortunately for Harry, he had his mother's eyes.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. No monetary profit has or will be made on this story.
Highlight for Warnings: * Non-Con, Dirty-Talk, Mild violence *
Beta: Endless thanks go to joanwilder. Thanks for your encouragement and excellent proofreading skills. Thanks as well to starcrossdkayla and roedhunt for allowing me to bounce ideas off them.

The Veil

Severus stared out of the grimy window and down the steep slopes to the valley below. Who would have thought that this tiny little cottage, hidden deep in the Carpathian Mountains, would have been the homiest place he’d ever lived? It was in a state of ruin, and held together with magic, even more than the Burrow had ever been, but within it’s crumbling damp walls he’d come closer to happiness than he’d ever been in his life.

The kettle whistled and pulled him from his revere, and he silently poured the water into the waiting teapot. He arranged two cups onto an old tin tray and carefully placed some cookies on a china plate before picking up the tray and carrying it to the back of the cottage, where an iron bed in a room just slightly larger than a closet sat, pushed up snugly into the corner of the room.

He carefully balanced the tray on a small table and turned to the bed’s lone occupant. A solitary figure sat across the bed – the feet dangling just over the edge, the back rigid against the wall and the hands bound by a heavy chain resting on either side of the head. The entire body was swathed in black cloth from head to toe, except for the hands, which dangled listlessly from their chains, and the eyes, which never looked away from Severus. Indignity and fury long having left them, they now stared at him with suspicion and a hint of fear.

Severus gave a tight smile and reached for the teapot.

“Shall I pour, my dear?” he asked?

The body on the bed gave no reply, but one of the hands twitched as though contemplating whether to reply via a one fingered salute, but then thought better.

Severus inclined his head and gave a tight smile. He wordlessly poured the tea and placed a biscuit onto the saucer. Holding it with the utmost care, he slowly climbed onto the bed and kneeled beside the hapless prisoner.

“I truly wish it didn’t have to be this way, my dear. You know it pains me to have to keep you in such a state. If you would simply cease and desist these amateur and, dare-I-say, clumsy attempts at escape, I would not have to keep you restrained here.

He laid the cup and saucer on the bed and he carefully reached up to the long cloth that rested just beneath the eyes of his captive and fell unceremoniously down to mid-chest level. Severus took hold of the heavy black cloth and slowly started to roll it up, exposing first the neck, then the chin, then the lips of his captive. He carefully tucked up either side of the cloth and uttered a simple spell to keep the cloth from falling back down.

Severus frowned at the exposed face. It was all wrong. The jaw was too square and the lips not quite full enough, and he tensed, restraining in him the urge to strike that jaw as hard as he could. But then he looked up to the eyes – the impossibly green almond shaped eyes, and relaxed. He reached for the tea cup and carefully brought it to his captive’s lips.

“It’s still a bit warm, please do be careful,” he said, before tipping just enough for the mouth to take a quick sip. He tipped it too far, however, and some of the hot liquid ran down the chin and dribbled onto the black cloth below. Snape tsked as he swiped his hand over the chest, smearing the tea into the cloth.

“Really, Lily, you were never quite so slovenly before Potter got his claws into you,” Severus said with disdain. He reached for the biscuit and dunked it into the tea before holding it up in front of the mouth.

“Please…” the mouth said. “Please, Snape… don’t do this… I won’t tell… I’ll keep your secret… just please release me… you can stay dead for all I care, just… please let me go.”

The voice that emanated from the mouth was breathy and hoarse, as though it had been idle for a time.

Severus leaned back on his heels, and smiled down at the face. Being careful to look only at the eyes, he gently touched the side of the face.

“Go? But where would you go, my darling Lily? Don’t you know there is no safe place but here?”

The head he was so gently caressing pulled from his hand and the eyes blazed.

“I’M NOT LILY YOU FUCKING PSYCHO, I’M HARRY! DO YOU HEAR ME? HARRY! NOW LET ME THE FUCK GO!”

Quick as a flash Snape pulled his hand back and struck as hard as he could. The head snapped violently to the side and was silent.

“Dammit, you ruin everything!” Snape hissed at him, as he quickly unwound the cloth and smoothed the veil back into place; the Silencing Charms spelled directly into the cloth would ensure once again the moody silence of his prisoner.

Backing off the bed, he gathered the empty tea cup, its remnants having spilled all over the blanket of the bed, and placed it carelessly onto the tray.

“I can see you aren’t as thirsty as I thought you might be. I shall try again later.”

Snape turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, making sure to slam the little wooden door on his way out.



Harry banged his head into the wall in frustration. The side of his face was throbbing from where Snape had struck him and he knew he’d be left alone for the remainder of the day now. Snape always left him alone after Harry managed to piss him off.

And speaking of piss, Harry needed to go, and soon.

He tried calling for Snape but the veil swallowed his voice. There was magic woven into the cloth for sure, because as well as rendering him mute, no matter how much he rubbed the cloth against his arms, it never rode up to expose his mouth. Even pulling himself up by the manacles and pushing his face close enough for his hands to grip the coarse material didn’t work. It merely turned as slippery as silk in his grasp and slid away from the desperate fingers.

He banged his head against the wall a few more times, hoping Snape would hear him and return, but the door stayed closed. With a sigh, Harry crossed his legs and hoped he could hang on long enough for Snape to return.

Harry thought back to the night he’d been ambushed by Snape and brought to this shit-hole. He’d been enjoying a night out with the lads in their favourite local pub. With the war over and the Dark Lord dispatched once and for all, they had all relished the freedom of knocking a few pints back at the pub before stumbling home in a drunken stupor, arm in arm with Ron and singing ribald songs about girls as they staggered back to the flat they shared.

Harry assumed Ron had just tripped, and he had laughed as he attempted to haul Ron back onto his feet. He never heard the Stupefy that knocked him down onto the gravel path beside Ron, nor did he see the face of his attacker as his mouth was pried open and a foul liquid poured down his throat, sending him spiralling down, down, down into oblivion.

When he woke, he was covered head to foot in black, and staring into the eyes of the late Severus Snape. Only Snape was sitting beside him and stroking his face … and speaking to him more tenderly than he had ever done before.



It was nightfall before Snape entered the room again, this time carrying a bowl of broth on the little tin tray.

His nose wrinkled at the blatant smell of urine that assaulted his nostrils and he again placed the tray carefully on the small table before turning to his prisoner.

“I do apologize if I neglected to observe your most basic of needs, dearest Lily. Please do forgive me,” Snape said, as he pulled his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it at the prisoner, uttering a simple Scourgify to clean the offending mess away.

He climbed up on the bed next to Harry and slowly started to roll the veil up until his mouth was exposed. He then reached for the soup and without a word, dipped the spoon into the broth and held it up to Harry’s mouth. Perhaps hunger was dictating his temporary compliance, but Harry did nothing more than slurp down the broth offered to him. Snape, who had been feeling tense since their last altercation, felt himself relax slightly.

“That’s it, my dear. See how lovely things can be when you cooperate? Now, you must get all of my hearty broth into you. If you finish it off, I’ll give you a cup of tea before bed,” Snape murmured in a gentle tone.

At the word “bed” Harry visibly tensed and darted a look up at his former Professor, who continued to spoon broth into Harry’s mouth. When the bowl was empty, Snape smiled and gently pressed a napkin against Harry’s lips, carefully wiping up any errant soup that may have spilled, and then he quite suddenly leaned in and kissed Harry tenderly on the lips.

Harry jumped slightly at the unexpected kiss and turned his head away, his whiskers scraping across Snape’s still puckered lips. Nonplussed, Snape reached up and lightly touched Harry’s chin, running the back of his fingers down his throat and back up over his cheek. Without taking his eyes off of Harry, Snape reached into his sleeve for his wand. Harry jerked violently and tried to turn his face away from Snape, who easily grabbed Harry’s chin and pulled his face back towards him again. Pressing the wand against Harry’s cheek, Snape quietly uttered, “Incidere Barba,” and Harry closed his eyes and winced as he felt his stubble being scraped off his face, the spell digging into the layers of flesh until finally nothing but soft, smooth skin remained.

“Better,” Snape said, again rubbing the cheeks of his captive with the back of his hand before lowering the veil once again. He backed off of the bed and quietly placed the bowl back onto the tin tray and left the room without saying another word.

He made a cup of tea for himself and stared idly at the wall as he absently drank it. Of course he had promised to take in a cuppa to Lily, but it would lessen the effects of the potion he had mixed into the broth. He hated having to resort to such tactics; however the evenings were a delicate affair and he had no wish to harm to Lily, but she did insist on struggling so.

And oh how the eyes looked at him with reproach!

Those eyes.

They haunted him and had done so since he’d lain drenched in his own blood on the floor of that insipid shack. He had looked up into those beautiful eyes as his life essence spilled out of him and vowed that he would not die there, in that place! He had scraped and dragged himself out of that shack, and to safety, where he could ride out the poison of the venom coursing through his veins. Nagini’s venom was rarely fatal, but it did have its side effects. And when Snape woke, his fever broken, and weak with pain, he could think of nothing else but those eyes. Her eyes, that had stayed with him, and that looked at him with sympathy… with love.

Potter had been careless. Constant vigilance had apparently been discarded the minute the Dark Lord had been vanquished. Snape had watched for months from the shadows. Watched as Potter and company had gone about their daily lives. He learned Potters habits, his haunts, his weaknesses. When the time had come to strike, it had been like taking candy from a baby… from Lily’s baby.

Once the veil had been forced onto his prize, the rest, as they say, had been the icing on the cake. Harry Potter had ceased to exist, and Lily had risen from his ashes.

Severus swallowed the last of his now tepid tea, and placed the cup and saucer onto the counter. He unbuttoned his shirt, his practiced fingers flying over the many buttons and folded it neatly before placing it on a small dinner table. Quietly he picked up a solitary candle that was the only source of light in the now darkened cottage and he walked back into the room.

Harry appeared to be asleep. His head lolled forward and his hands dangled listlessly from the chains. Severus pushed Harry’s head back and looked at his eyes, which were open, but dazed. Satisfied, with the results, Severus took out his wand and spelled open the manacles. Harry’s arms fell to the bed and his body slumped to the side. Severus placed the candle on the tiny table and shucked off the rest of his clothes with far less preamble than he had done with his shirt. Leaving his trousers and pants in a heap on the floor, he climbed up onto the bed. He maneuvered Harry onto his back and hastily pulled the veil up over his mouth. He paused to look hastily into the bright green eyes that stared dreamily up at the ceiling before crushing his lips onto Harry’s.

Harry gave a slight noise as Snape’s tongue dove into his mouth and rubbed roughly against his tongue, but otherwise lay limply as Snape’s hand ran up and down the length of his body, grasping and pulling up the straight black gown until Harry’s legs and torso were exposed.

Snape rolled on top of Harry and rubbed his rapidly own hardening cock against Harry’s, which was in a state of semi-arousal. He hungrily kissed along Harry’s neck before stopping at his ear.

“Can you hear me?” he whispered hotly into Harry’s ear. “I want to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you. Here… now….”

Harry’s head twisted away and Snape paid no mind, kissing the neck and following the ear.

“Don’t fight me. I promise I’ll make it good for you. I’ll make you hard,” he said, gyrating his cock against Harry’s rapidly swelling member. “I’ll make you come, just let me, I’ll make your body sing,” Snape said, licking and kissing at Harry’s earlobe.

“I’ll show you….”

Snape abandoned the ear lobe and kissed his way down Harry’s neck, until he came to the collar of the plain black gown. He scooted down the bed until his face hovered over Harry’s flat stomach, and he pushed his hands up under the snug-fitting robe until his fingers found Harry’s nipples. He rubbed them softly, feeling them respond and harden into erect little nubs.

Harry closed his eyes and groaned. He moved his head from side to side as though he were trying to escape from the fog that surrounded his head. Harry moved his hands down his body and tried to push the insistent fingers off of his nipples, as though the sensation was too much to bear and the attention unwanted.

Snape saw the gesture and sneered. Harry was always playing the chaste virgin. Tonight he was not in the mood to entertain that particular game.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it, you wanton slut,” he growled as he lazily licked at Harry’s hip. Keeping one hand on Harry’s chest, he moved the other slowly down towards Harry’s cock, feathering the fingers so lightly across his skin, they left a trail of goose bumps. When Snape wrapped his long potion-stained fingers around Harry’s cock, Harry bucked slightly up into his grasp.

“Ah, the whore emerges,” Severus said, before leaning over to lick the head of Harry’s cock, which was beginning to leak pre-come. Snape lazily ran his fingers through the clear substance and smeared it liberally around the head. Harry’s cock was steadily emerging from its foreskin and Snape worked his finger beneath it and slowly stroked the skin beneath the shaft. Harry threw back his head and groaned loudly. His hands grasped the sheets, twisting and pulling at them.

“Like that, don’t you, you little slut. You like me touching you where no one has touched you before. I’ll warrant that little ginger slut doesn’t do this, does she?” Snape was breathing hard as he worked his finger under Harry’s foreskin, slowly circling his cock as he did so.

“I’ll warrant she never did this, either,” Snape said, removing his finger and engulfing Harry’s cock in his mouth. Snape ran his tongue over the head of Harry’s cock, flicking it several times over the slit before he worked his tongue back under the foreskin.

Harry was moaning openly now. His head snapped back and forth and his hands grabbed at the head scarf covering his head in a desperate attempt to pull the sweat soaked cloth from his head.

Snape’s long fingers gently cupped Harry’s balls, rolling them gently as his mouth kept up the determined rhythm on Harry’s cock. Snape could feel Harry’s cock growing so hard it was hard to keep his tongue under the foreskin. He could tell Harry was close, and he grasped the base of his cock and started sucking him in earnest. When Snape felt Harry was mere moments away from coming, he pulled up to the head of Harry’s cock and scraped his teeth over the sensitive head. Once, twice, three times and Harry was raising his pelvis off the bed and crying out as come spewed from the end of his cock. Snape pulled his head away and watched with satisfaction as come shot up onto Harry’s stomach. Snape rubbed the overly sensitive member a few times, before running a hand through the come on Harry’s stomach, smearing it into the skin as though it was an expensive lotion.

“I knew you’d like a bit of pain with your pleasure. You are so predictable. I, however, am not, and I do believe it is my turn.”

Snape stood on the bed, his legs on either side of Harry’s body, and he bent over and grabbed Harry under each arm hauling him to a sitting position while manoeuvring him so that his back rested against the old chipped iron headboard. The veil had slipped and was again covering the lower half of Harry face, and Snape reached down and hauled it up over Harry’s mouth. He grasped the headboard with the other hand and bent his knees slightly, so that his cock was directly in front of Harry’s face.

“Open your mouth,” Snape ordered.

Groggy green eyes looked up at him and Snape pushed his cock against the slightly open mouth.

“More,” he said impatiently. “More, damn you.”

Finally Harry’s mouth opened enough for Snape to work his cock into. Snape groaned and threw his head back, relishing the bliss of sensation as a hot wet mouth surrounded his cock. He let go of the veil he had been holding and felt it tickle his legs as the material came to rest against his skin.

Snape grabbed the headboard with both hands for balance as he slowly worked his cock deeper into Harry’s mouth.

“Deeper,” Snape whispered, his voice thick with lust, “suck me deeper.” He felt Harry gag a few times and he pulled back slightly, before continuing his assault on the young man’s mouth.

“Look at me,” Snape ordered, and Harry again raised his eyes to Snape.

Snape placed one had behind Harry’s head as he gazed down into the eyes. Green eyes shone out between the layers of black cloth that framed them. Those impossibly green eyes that had once belonged to her pulled Snape in, until he felt he was being sucked into a vortex from which he would never escape. He looked deeply into those eyes and allowed the fantasy to envelop him.

He was staring at her, and she him. Lust shone in her eyes as she sucked his cock deeply, his balls hitting her chin, the black cloth swaying violently as Snape snapped his hips back, driving his cock deep into her mouth. Lily loved it rough. He knew by the way she groaned – by the way she sucked him that she loved every minute of it.

“Touch my balls,” Snape groaned “Play with them, yes, squeeze them… harder… harder…”



Harry could feel his head clearing from the fog that had surrounded it. Usually when his head finally cleared from whatever it was Snape had drugged him with, he would again be in chains, and Snape would be naked beside him, deep in sleep. But this time was different. Perhaps his body was becoming accustomed to the drug, or perhaps Snape had not been paying attention to the time, but the more Harry’s head cleared, the more the realized that he had a chance to escape, and that this was likely the only chance he would have at freedom.

He continued to look up at Snape who was staring down at Harry with such intensity it actually scared him. Harry tried not to listen to the filth that was spewing from Snape’s lips, as he obediently stroked and squeezed Snape’s sac.

“Harder, squeeze them harder…” the order came, and Harry made a fist around the skin, pushing the testicles until they were squeezed tightly.

Snape was groaning loudly now, thrusting deep into Harry’s throat.

Harry knew this was it. It was now or never. Gripping the sac tightly, he mentally counted to three before bringing his other hand up and hitting Snape as hard as he could in the testicles.

He didn’t have nearly enough room to really punch him, but it was enough. Snape let out a strangled cry before falling to his knees, his hands clutching his sac. Harry pushed Snape off of him, and jumped off the bed, landing a bit unsteadily on his feet. It had been a week or more since he had been allowed the luxury of standing, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of that or remnants of the drug still in his system that made him feel so woozy. He put his hand against the wall to steady himself as he looked desperately around the room for Snape’s wand. He picked up the trousers and shook them, to no avail.

Snape was howling in pain and Harry knew his time was limited. If Snape managed to get off the bed, Harry was as good as dead. Abandoning the search for the potion master’s wand, he turned and ran, flinging open the door to the cottage and running away as fast as he could.

It was a full moon, and Harry hoped to Merlin that there were no werewolves nearby. The moon lit up his path as he ran. He had no idea where he was, only that he was running down a hill. The black dress-like apparel Snape had clothed him in twisted around his legs, tripping him up, and forcing him to run at a slower pace, and the veil pressed against his mouth, suffocating him. Harry grasped at the material uselessly, as he gasped for breath.

He was running through a heavily wooded area, the moon all but obliterated by the canopy of trees overhead, and Harry could barely see as he ran. At one point, he was sure he could hear branches crashing behind him; was Snape in pursuit so soon? Harry turned his head to look and crashed to the ground as he tripped over the root of a tree, hidden in the foliage. He wasted no time in picking himself up before continuing his panicked run, his heart beating so hard, it felt as though it were going to burst from his chest. He zig-zagged through the thick forest, only knowing he was running down the hill, down to freedom.

Harry had no idea how long he had been running, but the sky was beginning to lighten when he burst out of the trees and onto a small dirt road. He was panting heavily, and grasped his side painfully, his heart beating loudly.

A road! This was good. It meant he was on the right path.

Turning to look behind him, he squinted as best as he could into the trees, hoping to see any movements if Snape was indeed hot on his trail, but without his glasses it was impossible for him to make out anything clearly. But the fact that he couldn’t see a black blur resembling a furious Snape was decidedly good news. Harry turned and loped down the soft dirt path.

He was starting to feel that he had enough of a head start now to actually get away and wondered if he would meet any people on the path. He wondered if the veil and headscarf he wore could be removed by another person, or if Snape had charmed it to obey only his potion-stained fingers. He wondered if he found water, if he would be able to bring his hand under the veil so he could drink. He was parched. Harry hated the claustrophobic cloth and he swore to himself if he got out of this alive, he would never wear another thing on his head, as long as he lived.

The sun was starting to rise as Harry slowed to a walk, slowly making his way down the mountainside towards freedom.



Snape watched the sunrise through the grimy window as he held a cup of steaming tea.
He took a sip and grimaced as the hot liquid washed away the foul taste of the pain potion he had taken, once he had been able to move enough to drag his body to the kitchen, where he stored a small variety of potions. His body still throbbed with pain, but it was now manageable, whereas before it had been beyond anything he had experienced previously, the pain rivalling Cruciatus.

Snape took another sip of tea and sneered to nobody in particular.

Apparently his little cat had had claws. Snape was, quite frankly, surprised that Harry had had the wherewithal to fight back the way he had. He should have been drugged until nigh on the next day. As Snape looked out the window, he quietly went through the ingredients he had put into the broth, and wondered if any of them had weakened his potion. He should have been able to administer it in all sorts of ways – food and drink notwithstanding.

He knew where Harry was running to. He knew there was a footbridge near the bottom of the mountain that crossed a raging river. It was the only place to cross. Judging by the amount of time that Harry had been gone, he would be nearing the bridge soon.

Snape knew the easiest course of action would be to Apparate to the end of the bridge and wait patiently for his prey. At the thought of moving, his groin gave a sudden throb in protest. No, he was in no condition to force a struggling Potter back up the mountain.

Instead he would reassess the situation. Snape knew that Potter would be on high alert for the next several months, but eventually he would start to let his guard down again, and when he did, Snape would be there. Only this time he would use a stronger potion to permanently incapacitate his prey. After all, he didn’t need Potter lucid. All he needed was a hot mouth, a tight arse, and those impossibly green, green eyes.

Snape was a patient man, he could wait.

Forever if he needed to….

~Fin~