sebastienne

Normally I write at a rate of about 500 words a day. This morning I got up at 10 and haven't left my bed yet, I've just been sitting here typing. It's unbeta'd, so concrit is adored, but it is also and hour and a half's worth of challenge fic, so be aware it's not meant to be art.

warnings? slash, adults only, unecessary use of unforgiveable curses, film meta-speak and non-con. no real film spoilers, though.

just don't read this if you aren't in the mood for slightly crack filth that hasn't even been proof-read. or if you have nothing to do with fandom and have found this post cryptic, please don't... i might break your brain.

The tip of Snape's wand pressed obscenely into Barty Crouch Jr's cheek. The fangirls went insane; the Snape-lovers and the slash-fiends and the David Tennant fans and those who had never been any of those things right up until that sexually charged moment.

And then the scene cut away. There were important points of plot to be getting on with, dammit, although not the existence of house elves at Hogwarts or the fact that Rita Skeeter was an animagus or how the hell the Weasley twins plan to open a joke shop now.

Legend has it, however, that somewhere there exists an edition of the film that does not cut away at this point. In this edition, Snape bears his burning Dark Mark and thrusts it angrily forwards (Crouch is bound to the chair, of course, although that was never explicitly demonstrated on-screen).

"Look what you have done! Don't you remember what it was like?"

Crouch's eyes were full of maniacal zeal as he replied, "Remember? For twelve years in Azkaban I have done nothing else! The power, the glory of serving the Dark Lord, is what I live for!"

Snape brought his wand up to Crouch's throat, and pressed it into the young man's larynx. "He tortures and destroys whole towns of people at his whim. No muggle, or wizard, or creature, is safe while he is alive. He kills anyone who gets in his way!" (The bitterness and anger in Snape's eyes here had overtones of another deleted scene, where, in exchange for telling Voldemort what he had heard of the prophecy, he was promised that Lily would not be harmed, before being forced to watch as her body crumpled to the floor in a flash of green light. But that is unrequited teenage het; nothing of the magnitude of what we are dealing with here.)

"I will be honoured above all others for what I have done for the Dark Lord. I brought him Harry Potter, and allowed His resurrection! It is you, Severus, who should be afraid. You, the unfaithful, who bears his mark and yet did not return to its call - yes, it is you who should be afraid."

And this is where the scene ends. At least, this is where the cameras ceased to roll.

For, as soon as he realised that he was no longer on camera, and the strange muggle men were dragging their electronics away to film another shot, Snape dropped to his knees, and hissed, "How could I go back to Him when I was sitting next to Dumbledore in a stadium full of students? I could not even look at the mark, although I felt it burning! If I am to continue to work as a double agent then I can hardly just drop everything at Hogwarts in order to return to his presence."

"Why did you not kill the Potter boy, then? Four years in his presence and you have done nothing! How can you expect me to believe that you are still faithful?"

"If I had killed Potter, would the Dark Lord have risen tonight? I will admit, I made no effort to search for Him, but my loyalty never wavered for a moment. The murders, the orgies, obedience to the whim of the Dark Lord; I can tell Him everything there is to know about Harry Potter. I have been watching, and have come to know him.. intimately. For this loyalty I will be honoured as highly as any who "served" by rotting away uselessly in Azkaban.

At this point, the rage that had been building up in Crouch's face exploded, and with great vehemence he spat on Snape's cheek. Wiping his cheek with the back of his hand and standing up in one menacingly slow motion, Snape thrust his wand forward again.

"Crucio!"

Crouch writhed, his face twisted in agony and his hips lifting off the chair as his legs straightened and tensed involuntarily. He did not cry out. Snape held the magical contact unflinchingly, and watched with no visible emotion as Crouch's hands clawed helplessly from the wrists bound to the chair. His teeth were clenched shut, however, and still he made no sound. Snape broke magical contact, and saw from the trickle of blood which came from the corner of the now-broken Crouch's mouth, that he had been biting down on his tongue to stop himself crying out. He looked, for a moment, as if Snape had destroyed him; but then he composed himself and sat up, his eyes glowing defiantly.

"I have suffered worse, and enjoyed it, at His hand. The is nothing you can do that would be greater, or more terrible, to me than the slightest motion of His finger. You have renounced him, and ignored his call, and you will be punished."

Momentarily forgetting his wand, Snape brought his hand up and slapped Crouch's face. The young man laughed. After "Crucio", Snape's blow was like being tickled with a warm feather.

With a flick of his wand, Snape bolted all the doors into the room and brought the blinds crashing down. Then he cast a silencing charm. He would not have this mere boy laughing at anything inflicted by Severus Snape.

Fear crossed Crouch's face for a moment as Snape pointed his wand at him again. But he had been tortured by the Dark Lord many times before, and nothing that Snape could do would be worse than that.

"Imperio!"

Whatever Crouch had been expecting, it was not that. Snape flicked his wand upwards and Crouch was sitting upright in his chair, straining at his bound wrists. He flicked his wand again, and the bindings fell away for Crouch's wrists. Although his body was sitting calmly and with perfect posture, his face was a mask of conflict. The boy was a talented wizard, if a little out of practice, and he was fighting the Imperius curse with every ounce of strength in him.

Snape forced him to his knees with magic, and laughed as he was forced to say, despite his every effort, "you always have been, and always will be, the Dark Lord's favourite, Severus. He will honour you above all others when you finally return to him. He will give me to you to punish for my impudence". His voice was deadened and his face full of insincerity, but it still pleased Snape.

Still under the influence of the curse, Crouch threw himself right at Snape's feet, and begged, "Please, let the Dark Lord punish me! Anyone, but not you, Severus!" As an after thought, Snape had him say, "You terrify me!"

He tugged on Snape's robes, having finally given in to the curse. His face now was full of fear and that was exactly what Snape wanted. Anyone who has served the Dark Lord soon learns to deal with the Cruciatus curse - pain becomes nothing, a sacrifice, something to be borne in His name. But the humiliation of begging; that was something no Death Eater was equipped to deal with.

As the sandy-haired boy with the dishevelled look clawed at the bottom of his robes in fear, Snape found himself becoming aroused. The control he had over this boy, the most honoured servant of Lord Voldemort, was more intoxicating than the best firewhiskey. As he began to unbutton his robes, he had Crouch say again, "please, sir, let the Dark Lord punish me instead!"

Another flick of his wand-holding wrist, and Crouch was kneeling upright, his shoulders back and his neck inclined up to gaze at Snape's face with mingled hatred and fear. Now that he realised what Snape planned to do, a tiny shard of himself had resurfaced and was trying desperately to force its way through the stifling mental fog of the Imperius curse. It was nowhere near enough, however, as his hands still reached up to unbutton the rest of Snape's robes. After this task was completed with reverential care, his hand found the base of an impressive erection. His lips encircled the head and his tongue dragged across it as his eyes locked with Snape's in hatred.

A small gasp escaped Snape's lips, but he steadied himself; he did not want to be in control and out of control at the same time. As the boy's mouth advanced, his tongue flicking and scraping in time to the subtleties of motion of the controlling wand, Snape found it harder and harder to concentrate on the curse he was casting. The more his breathing hitched, and the more that he burned all over under his skin, the less he could control the boy. Teeth were becoming involved, and not quite in a good way. Each burst of pleasure was tempered by a sharp shower of pain, and the boy's hand which had been simply steadying the base of his cock curved around and dug its fingernails in. The mix of anger and obedience shown by Crouch, the detestation mixed with adoration, even if it was magically enforced, made Snape feel invincible. This, he thought, is what it must feel like to be Voldemort.

His control over the curse wavered even further as Crouch mumbled "yes, master" into his cock, the vibrations almost sending him staggering backwards. In fact, he realised, he hadn't caused Crouch to say that at all. He let his wand drop to the floor, and shuddered into an explosive orgasm, as he realised that the boy had been doing this of his own accord all along.

I'm sorry.