Trauma Is My Normality: 1.
"Your proposition is completely inappropriate, Miss Granger. I will thank you to withdraw it at once."
Drat. Severus had been calling her "Hermione" for the last six months, ever since the war had ended and they'd started working together on the Ministry's Dark Wizard Prevention Task Force. While Snape was never going to be warm and fuzzy, he'd been very nearly friendly — well, for Snape — for the past several months. If he was reverting to his wartime persona, he must really be offended.
Hermione looked into Snape's glaring eyes, then realized that he didn't actually look offended. If anything, he looked as if he were forcing himself to do something he didn't actually want to do. Oh, of course. The dolt was trying to protect her. Well, she knew what to do about that.
She walked closer to him, put a hand on his chest, and looked up into his eyes. "If you didn't want me, you wouldn't ask me to withdraw my suggestion that we have sex; you'd just decline it." She smiled and cupped his face with her hand.
Snape grabbed her by the wrist and forcibly removed her hand from his face, throwing it from him as if her touch pained him. He turned and walked a few paces away, then turned back in a swirl of black robes. "I realize that we have many things in common, and I admit that your company since we became colleagues has been reasonably pleasant. I might even go so far as to call you friend." His lips thinned. "But you do not know what you ask for. I am not a nice man."
He stalked towards her, black eyes burning into hers. "I may have been working for the side of Light, but I was working for that side for revenge, for bitterness, for hatred." He grabbed her face and tilted it upwards, ensuring that she would miss none of what he was to say.
He spat the words at her. "My motives were Dark, as I am Dark. I will always be a Dark wizard, and if I am still working for the cause of Light, it is only because I control myself very strictly." He was breathing hard, sounding as if he'd been running, for all that they'd merely been talking.
Hermione smiled. "What if I want you because you're a Dark wizard? What if I find that thrilling?"
Snape sneered at her. "Daily I fend off the propositions of stupid young witches who mistakenly believe that darkness is sexy. They think because I am Dark, I know all about sex. They think because I am Dark, I will show them a good time." He stared at her disdainfully. "I had thought you smarter than that."
Hermione swallowed. "Do you deny that it's true?"
He laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, yes, I know all about sex. I know all about how to take what I want from a witch, without regard to her pleasure, because Darkness is fundamentally selfish. More, I know all about how to torture a witch sexually for the entertainment of the Dark Lord. I know how to fuck her in such a way as to ensure my pleasure and her pain. I know how to use whips and clamps and ropes and weights and charms and hexes to ensure that my pleasure will be her agony. Nor was all of this forced upon me by the Dark Lord; the Dark Lord used me in this way because these were already my tastes."
He grabbed her arms and shook her. "Fools! They are all fools. But you, you fought against Voldemort! You were tortured by Bellatrix. You should know that Dark is not sexy but dangerous, not interestingly edgy but deranged and vile and loathsome!"
She stared into his furious eyes and smiled. "It's because I'm not a fool that you should listen to me. I've seen your darkest memories in the Pensive while we've been working on the task force, using your memories to figure out what makes a wizard turn Dark. I know what you used to do to witches who crossed you. I know what Voldemort made you do when he wanted to punish a witch under his command. I've seen the lengths to which you go, and I want that."
He dropped his hands from her arms and shook his head. "You can't possibly want that."
She sighed and deflated. "Severus, I don't WANT to want that. I want to wish for a sane little life with a safe little husband and a nice little job." She looked up at him and shook her head. "But I'm broken. I got too used to fighting and fleeing and danger and struggle during the war. Normal life bores me." She spoke pleadingly. "I want you to make me feel again. If fear and pain are the only things I can still feel, then I want to feel them, because I've had six months of feeling nothing, and I can't stand it anymore."
Snape collapsed into a chair. "You're a casualty of the war. Just as surely as Albus Dumbledore or Remus Lupin, you're a casualty."
"No!" She took a step towards him. "No, I'm not. My body is still alive, even though it feels dead. YOU can make it feel again, and I know you want to. It's been more than six months since the last time Voldemort had you punish someone. You must be getting itchy by now. I know you want to."
Snape swallowed. "I do."
Hermione stood over him and once again cupped the side of his face with her hand. "Will you fuck me and hurt me and make me bleed? Will you make me scream as hard as I can, hard enough to make me realize that I'm still alive?"
He lifted his hand and covered hers. "I will."
1. In the real world, we muggles have therapy for trauma. If you've been traumatized, please see a psychologist, social worker, or psychiatrist who specializes in trauma therapy. It helps!
2. Snape claims that he's still a Dark wizard, but that doesn't mean it's true. He's re-living his most painful memories — and allowing Hermione to see them in the Pensive — in order to prevent the rise of future Dark wizards. So he's still giving his all to the Light, in much the way he did during the war.
3. I have a chronic illness that leaves me non-functional most of the time. I will try to respond to any comments I receive; unfortunately, my good intentions are frequently thwarted by my poor health. (I do read them all with great attention, and I do cherish every one of them, even when my health doesn't permit me to reply.)
4. Everything Harry Potter belongs to the illustrious Ms. Rowling. I'm just a fan playing in the sandbox that she designed, built and owns, and I make no money from the strange little stories that I write.
5. Thanks for reading!
This story archived at: Ashwinder