Work Text:
It was the flight from the castle that did it. The relief at the deed having been done, the adrenaline, the fear, the rage in Professor Snape’s eyes, and Draco’s absolute, iron-clad conviction that Severus Snape was the only person on earth that could save him.
Because he’d failed. He’d lost his nerve at the last possible moment. After fixing the cabinet. After bringing all the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, after disarming and cornering Dumbledore. He’d… lost his nerve. And Snape had knocked him aside, and done the deed, and dragged him by the arm from the crime scene and out into the grounds. Snape has dragged him through the battle, and outside the boundary walls, and apparated him to Malfoy Manor. And then Snape had dragged him upstairs, and into a bedroom, and locked and warded the door, and slammed him against it.
“Was it worth it?” he demanded. “Was it, Draco? Was it worth it?”
Draco could hardly breathe. Because no, it wasn’t worth it. At all. And he’d failed so abjectly, and he was so vulnerable, that there was only one thing to say.
“Thank you.”
That had been the wrong thing to say.
“WHAT?” Snape jerked him away from the door and cast him to the floor. “Get up,” he growled. “Draco. GET. UP.”
Draco just looked up at him, petrified, and did not speak. There was nothing else he could think of. What could he say? Please don’t hurt me? As if that would do any good. He deserved whatever he got, now. Whatever it was, he deserved it. And that made him think of something else. Something that might be the best outcome for him.
“Just kill me.”
Severus scoffed, turned away, and then slammed his fist into the warded door. The reverberating thump was confined to the room by the magic he’d cast, and Draco flinched. He did. Because he’d never seen physical violence like that out of his head of house. Ever.
Never seen him kill anyone, either, of course.
It was scary. And… scary.
Severus swept his hair back from his face and then turned back around, regarding Draco on the floor with utmost contempt.
“Get up,” he said again, but that time his voice was soft. And that time, Draco scrambled to obey. Because he knew that tone. He knew it, and feared it, but in a familiar way. It made him feel like a wayward student, and right then, that was a good feeling.
“Yes sir,” he said, and when he was on his feet, held out his hands. “I’m - sorry.”
“Sorry. Hm,” Severus said in a low voice. “I’m sure you are.” He looked at the floor, and Draco looked at it, too, but he couldn’t tell what Snape was studying. There was nothing there. And then Snape looked back at him, and Draco met his eyes, and felt his spine turn absolutely to liquid.
“Oh,” he said, and almost immediately found his back hitting the elegant wallpaper.
“Say it again,” Snape demanded, his fist closed in the front of Draco’s robes.
“W-what?” Draco gasped, pressing his palms flat against the wall to keep from fighting. It would do no good, now. And really, he didn’t want to. He just wanted to get it over with. Whatever it was. And - this was Professor Snape. Professor Snape… liked him. Had known him for ages. And Draco had never in his life seen a look like that in Snape’s eyes.
Not ever.
“Say it again,” Severus repeated. “Tell me how sorry you are. Go on.”
“I - I - can just - um - show you?” Draco said, and did his best to relax back against the wall. To seem docile. Submissive, even, if that was what Snape wanted. Whatever he wanted. Whatever it was, he could do it. He could.
“Show me what?” Severus hissed in disgust. “How docile you can be? Try harder.”
Merciful Merlin, how does he do that? How does he always know?
Draco had his wards up, had had them up for months, but he still knew. He knew everything.
Well. Draco knew things, too. Draco knew that Snape liked men. That Snape’s tastes ran young. That Snape had desires, just like everyone else, and that Severus Snape protected his own. Draco had been part of Snape’s circle once. When he was a child, before he took the mark, before he’d decided that he should go it alone, and reject all help, and try to capture the glory himself. He’d been under Snape’s wing, once, and he’d cast that protection aside.
And that had been a mistake.
“I can do whatever you want,” Draco answered, ashamed to hear the high note of fear in his own voice. “Just, please, don’t-” hurt me.
Severus grabbed his jaw and Draco let out a squeak, and then flushed.
“Say it again,” Severus snarled. “Say the words whatever I want, again, if you mean them.”
Draco was seeing spots in his vision. Sparkles, stars, whatever. It was the adrenaline. The fear. Or maybe he was on the very edge of insanity. So, what?
Just jump. Deal with it later if you don’t die. Just jump right in like you jumped into the Dark Lord’s ranks, you fucking idiot.
“Whatever you want,” he said. “Just… take it.”
Snape’s lip curled up, and there was a moment of absolute terror where Draco thought he’d been wrong. But he hadn’t been wrong, and he knew that when Snape’s mouth met his. Hard, and hot, and unforgiving. And Snape’s hand on his chest splayed flat, and Draco’s knees went weak. And that was… embarrassing. It really was. Because Draco fancied Pansy Parkinson. He did. And he never stayed awake at night wondering what this terrifying man thought of him. Draco never stared at the underside of his hangings, imagining eyes so dark they were almost black, and refined hands that, apparently, belonged to a cold-hearted killer. No. He never thought of those things when he was alone in his dorm, and he never got goosebumps when Snape spoke to him. And he definitely wasn’t hard right now, either, up against the wall of his parent’s house. And Snape’s tongue wasn’t in his mouth, and he… wasn’t… so incredibly hard he couldn’t think straight.
Nope.
Snape’s hand seized his hair and held his head to the wall as he pulled back, and as he broke the kiss, Draco realized that he’d grabbed the front of Severus’ robes - that he was clutching at him , and that Snape’s thigh was between his legs, and pressing up against him, and that look on Snape’s face could mean nothing other than: ‘I see.’
“Sorry,” he gasped again, and then Severus' mouth was back over his, and he was being manhandled across the room and onto a mattress. And that was fine. Whatever Snape wanted was fine.
And then he heard a noise, and he was pretty sure it hadn’t come out of his own mouth. But then Snape made a noise. A low, rumbling sort of noise, and Draco realized that other noise had, indeed, come out of him. That pitiful sound had come out of his mouth, and he was hard, and he liked it. He did. And he thought about Severus Snape every single fucking night. And Severus Snape was on top of him, and hey, if he was going to be executed in the morning, why not get what he really wanted, now? Why not? Who cared if he was a teacher. He was a murderer, too.
He sank his hands into Snape’s hair, and Snape made a feral noise, and pinned Draco’s wrists to the bed. And oh god - that was a new feeling.
“Tell me again,” Severus growled.
“Anything you want,” Draco answered. “Anything. Anything. Please.” He arched up, and Snape bore down, and fuck-
“You filthy pureblood,” Severus growled, kissing him again and then biting down on his neck. “You have no idea what I’ve done for you.”
And Draco had no idea what he meant by that. Because he did know. How could he have missed Snape cleaning up after him the way he had that night? Murdering the Headmaster? He’d seen it. Unless Snape meant something else. In which case, no, Draco had no idea. So he just said what he’d said first, again.
“Thank you.”
And then Snape’s hands were undoing the clasps of his robes and Snape’s mouth was asking all kinds of complicated questions while Snape’s hipbone was up against his cock, and he was… not listening.
“Pay attention, you little brat!” Snape demanded, giving him a little shake. “Listen to me. Has anyone fucked you before?”
Oh, god, have you ever heard that word come out of his mouth? Fuck? Never. Ohh, god-
Wait, what?
“What?” Draco gasped, as Severus undid his trousers and yanked them down his legs.
“Are you a virgin?” Severus growled, and stood back to shrug off his robes, leaving him in his trousers and waistcoat before taking hold of Draco’s shirt and pulling him to his feet to take it off of him. “Answer me.”
“Y-yes?” Draco stuttered. “I mean. I’ve done stuff - with - Pansy.”
Severus sneered at him. “I am hardly Miss Parkinson, Draco,” he said, and then turned Draco around, and pressed him face-first into the mattress. “If you’ve never done this before, it’s going to hurt. But if you relax, you might enjoy it.” Draco shivered hard, and then stiffened as he heard Snape’s low chuckle from behind him. “My my, Mr. Malfoy. If I’d known you were so hungry for my cock we could have avoided so much trouble.”
Cock, Draco thought. He said ‘cock.’
And then Severus’ hand was on the back of his head, holding it to the bed. “Say you want my cock, Draco.”
Draco flushed. “I -”
Snape pressed up against his back, up against the naked skin of his arse, and Snape was hard. And… it felt… really big.
“Say it, you back-stabbing snake,” Severus snarled into his ear. “You cowardly, pathetic, traitorous child.”
“I want your cock,” Draco whispered. His heartbeat was so loud in his ears he couldn’t even hear the words. But, apparently, they were good enough, because Severus’ hand left his head, and Draco dared a glance over his shoulder to watch him undress. If he was even going to.
Which he wasn’t.
“Face the wall,” Snape commanded, and Draco did. “Oleumeffundam.”
“What is that?” he asked in a small voice at the shiver of magic behind him. He didn't look, though. He just looked at the wall.
“Lubrication, idiot,” Severus answered. “So I don’t damage you.”
“Oh. Th-”
“Say thank you and I’ll rip you open.”
Draco snapped his mouth shut, and turned his face into the bedclothes. “Yes, Sir,” he mumbled. And then he jerked in surprise as a hand trailed down the cleft of his arse and between his legs, straight to his cock. Which was very hard. He’d almost forgotten about it. There was a weird haze in his brain like he was ensconced in fog. It felt good, too. Like he was safe. Sort of… floating.
“Mm,” Snape murmured, giving him a squeeze. “I was afraid I’d have to force you. This is better.”
“What…?” Draco managed.
“I said - I was afraid I’d have to force you,” Severus repeated, his voice hard, and he gave Draco a slap on the thigh. “Spread your legs.” Draco did, and then Snape’s other hand, slick with oil, was probing at him. Two fingers, circling the entrance to his body. It felt… weird. And then it felt VERY weird as one of his fingers pressed inside him.
And why that should be so surprising, Draco did not know. He was about to get fucked by his Head of House, the Death Eater Lieutenant Severus Snape who had just murdered the Headmaster right in front of his face. So, obviously that would involve penetration. Obviously.
Maybe he was surprised because he’d watched those fingers doing things for years. Stared at them as they produced art in the Potions Lab, or lay along his wand, or gestured elegantly through the air. And now they were inside him.
Two of them.
“Very good, Draco,” Snape murmured. “Keep your legs apart. Very good.”
Oh, god, to hear those words now. Very good? Heat rolled through him, so strong it made him feel almost sick.
He kept his legs apart, even when they started to shake as Snape’s fingertips touched something inside him. Some spot inside him that sent electric shocks of pleasure straight into his spine and had him whimpering and pressing hips against the mattress within moments.
“Mm,” Snape hummed, and to Draco, it sounded pleased. And thank god. “Does that feel good?”
Draco just nodded hard against the bed and pressed his lips together and his eyes shut against the noises coming out of him. But that wasn’t what he wanted, apparently.
Severus smacked him on the thigh.
“Answer me. Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” Draco gasped.
“Do you want more?”
“Y-yes.” He spread his legs wider. That seemed like the thing to do. And then there was a third finger pressing inside him, and he cried out, because it burned, and badly. But there were still those sparks of pleasure. And the combination was confusing. “Oh - god.”
“My cock is far more substantial than that, Dear Draco,” Severus was saying. “If you don’t relax it’s going to hurt quite a lot.”
Draco gasped and whimpered again. Because somehow, that - what was it, a threat? Those words sent a bolt of arousal through his belly so sudden it felt like being punched. Like the air had been forced out of him. Like he was losing his bloody mind.
“I can take it,” he said. And then he thought, what the fuck is wrong with you, you have no idea what its going to feel like. “Professor Snape - please.” What the fuck are you saying? Sweet Merlin close your mouth!
“How polite,” Severus rumbled. “But no, you can’t. Not yet, at least.” And then Snape’s free hand curled around the base of Draco’s cock and squeezed. “Come first, and we’ll see how much you can take.”
“Fuck-” Draco choked out, abruptly and absolutely swamped with sensation as Severus Snape started working him in his fist, and those fingers were doing something to him inside his body, and got off so bloody fast that he would have been terribly embarrassed in any other encounter. But he was too overwhelmed to be embarrassed right then. Too overwhelmed, too breathless, his body wracked with aftershocks that made Snape’s fingers inside him feel even bigger as every muscle in his body fluttered and spasmed. And… he’d said something. Maybe it had been Snape’s name. He wasn’t sure.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Severus asked, a hint of unkind laughter in his voice as he withdrew his fingers. And - maybe Draco was a little embarrassed. “Deep breath now. If you can.”
Snape’s hands were on his hips, holding him still, and Draco did his best to obey, but found his ‘deep breath’ shivering out him almost at once as something way bigger than Snape’s fingers nudged at him.
“Breathe, Draco,” Snape said again. “Breathe.”
“I - can’t -” Draco managed, raising up on his toes to escape from the unbearable stretch. “I - can’t - oh god - please-”
“Please what?” Severus purred. “Want me to stop? Use your words.”
Draco braced his hand against the wall he’d been told to look at with a strangled whine as something gave way, and Snape’s cock slipped inside. Or - at least - the head. “Slow - please-” he whimpered. “Please - please-”
“Not stop?”
“No - just - go slow - please - oh fuck-”
Severus went still, stroking his hands over Draco’s hips and lower back, and then he withdrew just minutely, and rocked forward. A millimeter at a time, slow, steady, almost gentle. It was just what Draco had asked for. Just - exactly - what - he wanted.
He went limp.
“Mm.”
Draco’s ears were filled with static, and the movement inside him was tectonic - scorching - like he was being hollowed out and filled with molten steel. And then the fine cotton of Snape’s trousers touched his legs, and Snape’s hands slid from his hips to his lower back, and that must mean - he was all the way inside, right? He was - all the way in. And -
“How does that feel, hm?” Severus asked, and Draco opened his mouth but no sound came out. It felt like he might come apart at the seams. That was how it felt. But that was too many words to say. “Still think you can take it?”
He had no idea.
He nodded.
“That’s the spirit,” Severus said as he held Draco still and began to move. “You might survive after all.”
Draco did not speak again. He just kept his hand flat on the wall to hold himself steady as Severus Snape fucked him - as Severus Snape dragged his hips back and rocked them forward, and dug his fingertips into Draco’s body hard enough to feel like they were made of stone. He just pressed his face into the bedclothes to muffle his cries, and took it.
Snape didn’t stop talking, though. He seemed to have quite a lot to say. About Draco, and the school, and Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord, and Draco’s body and Draco’s scars and Draco staring at him in Defense class like a love-sick teenager and louder Draco, and let me hear you, Draco, and I’m going to save you, Draco, I’m going to save you if you can just learn to keep your fucking mouth shut and your head down.
Draco got off again. Hard, too. And when Snape finally finished, he bit down on Draco’s shoulder with enough force to leave a mark, and then he pulled out, and Draco’s knees spilled him to the floor, and he had never felt so incredibly filthy in all his life. Come was smeared on his belly and dripping down his legs. He was sweating, and shaking, and there were tears on his face, though he didn’t remember shedding them. And Snape was still talking.
“Try to pay attention, Draco,” he was saying. “This is important.”
And that was when Draco’s brain reconnected to his body, and began knitting together the things Snape had said up against the back of his neck while his cock was buried inside him.
Severus Snape had made a deal with the Dark Lord.
Draco hadn’t lost his shelter after all.
If Draco failed, and Snape succeeded, he would be the one that would get to… punish him. If Draco failed, and Snape succeeded, Draco would belong to him, and no one else. And there had been… complaints. Because other people wanted him. Other Deatheaters that thought they would be best suited to beating the youngest Malfoy into submission. Other Deatheaters that thought they deserved to… have him.
And the Dark Lord had agreed.
Draco just had to pretend that he - that he -
“You should hit me,” Draco said.
“Pardon?” Severus asked, casting a cleaning charm over him, and over the bed. Draco levered himself gingerly up off the floor, and reached for his clothes.
“You should hit me,” he repeated. “If I’m supposed to be - you know. Being… punished.”
Severus raised an eyebrow at him. “You look perfectly defiled just now. But I can hit you, if you like.” He was straightening his clothes, and didn’t look at all like he’d just killed an old man, and then fucked a teenager. He looked like he’d just finished a day of classes, and was tired, and Draco swallowed, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Who wanted me?” he asked.
“Greyback,” Severus answered. “Rookwood. Rowle. Pettigrew. Yaxley. Mcnair. You look quite green. Did you expect it to be only one?”
Draco looked away. “And my father?”
“Lucius has no power,” Severus answered. “You know that. If he tried to stand in your defense he’d be executed.”
“Why not just kill me?”
“Because there are far worse things than death. Particularly if you’re seventeen, blonde and blue-eyed, with the face of Apollo.”
“Then why not just… let them have me?” Draco breathed. “After what I-”
“Would you like a diplomatic answer, or a true one?” Seveurs cut in. “We don’t have a lot of time. We will need to present ourselves very soon.”
“I - uh. Diplomatic?”
Severus folded his arms. “You are young, and the young make mistakes. A few panicked explosions of fury and disobedience do not undo the allegiance I had with your family, or my desire to protect my own.”
“And the real one?”
Severus turned away.
“I wanted you,” he said.