Current mood:	ecstatic
Current music:	Vendetta Red "Opiate Summer"
Entry tags:	cages, hp

FIC: Fate, Met Once In Passing
Title: Fate, Met Once In Passing
Author: crise_cardiac
Pairings: Snape/OC
Ratings: NC-17
Words: ~2,800
Warnings: (brief) purple expository writing, Americanizing
Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter and related characters/concepts. Alexis is mine despite his protests.
Summary: Snape begins to suspect he is not like the other boys with help from the pub owner's son
A/N: The birth of the "Cages of Glass and Light" arc. My first piece. The ending is left ambiguous to mirror Snape's understanding of the events at the time. This is not the end for Alexis.

Severus Snape had to wait until he turned fifteen to finally understand why he insisted following those damn Gryffindors around. True, he was spying on them for any and every infraction against the rules they could conceivably commit. Well, considering he himself broke those same rules every chance he got, that wasn't much of a reason was it? No, it wasn't a good reason but it was the reason. For four blessedly ignorant, innocent years anyway. Then, three days after he turned fifteen, as if he had not had enough going on already, he walked in on his fellow fourth year Evan Rosier in the shower.... not showering. He'd decided to skip breakfast so he could bathe in privacy. Unfortunately, Evan seemed to have had the same idea.

The boy was leaning against a wall, head thrown back and throat cords working around gasps as his slippery, soapy prick slid through clumsy fingers. Fingers Severus very suddenly wished were his own. It was only a moment before he felt a blush rise and shook his head to jar his wayward thoughts back, but that one moment felt like forever. How could it not, with his chest inexplicably tight, ribs pressed from the inside out like vines had twined around his heart and squeezed? For one second, he knew he had a heart, regardless of whether it was pitch-black night or blood-red love. He knew what desire was and exactly what he wanted. It was all he could do to silently stumble out of the humid bathrooms and convince himself he hadn't needed a wash that day. Foolish to worry about such things as it was.

He spent the rest of term pretending not to know what he now knew. Pretending he hadn't identified the strong tug of desire so quickly because, really, he'd been feeling the same thing off and on for four years, to a much lesser degree of course. No, he certainly had not felt it every time he saw Sirius Black’s robes swirl behind him as he postured for his friends and admirers in the halls, not as he watched cords of quidditch muscles gradually tangle themselves around lean arms and legs with each progressive year, not every time he caught a glimpse of sleek, long, pale Malfoy hair he so desperately wanted to run his fingers through (just to test the texture).

He also pretended he didn't notice the types of looks he was trying so hard not to bestow on Black were just as desperately being suppressed by Black himself, in regards to Potter and Lupin. That had to be why he felt so drawn to Black, because in some way they shared something. Somehow he'd been able to sense it, their mutual shame. No respectable wizard was caught dead engaging in activities detrimental to the continuation of the wizarding world. No pureblood, especially. Poor Black, so disappointing to his family in so many ways. Maintaining the integrity of Magic meant making sure there were children to uphold traditions. Every growing boy and girl had that simple message buried into their susceptible, little heads by the age of nine.

All this effort eluding truth had left Severus more sour and vengeful than ever, if it had been possible. He felt drained and drifting. Not even hexing Potter (out of anything but jealousy) could cheer him up. Such a lack of control just would not suffice. Something had to be done to put the matter to rest once and for all. Severus Snape resolved to stop pretending and did what he did best. He began scheming a way to convince himself of who he really was.

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That summer- still fifteen, angry, and confused- he lost his virginity crushed to the dirty bricks in a back alley behind the muggle pub wherein his father was passed out. Mother would simply have to be patient while her son “fetched” her husband. Not, really, that he was thinking of Mother with the sharp bricks digging into his back as the only thing keeping him levered against the wall and gravity, legs scrabbling to give him a foot hold on the vertical, grimy surface and still attempt to stay pushed painfully far apart. The air was thick and smoky from the mill, almost as chocking as the huffs of hot breath pushed into his face from the straining mouth of the pub owner's son.

Long fingered hands only aged a few years past his own pressed into his sharp hipbones, which were constantly shifting to find an angle to allow the thick cock to shift in and out of him just right. Oh God, there. That did it. That buried the pain behind something blazing and weightless, white hot and blinding. His knees stopped trying to unconsciously vice together and force the demanding body flush with his hips out and away; they fell apart eagerly and full of invitation he hadn't really felt before that. His whole body followed suit, surrendering to limply allow the older boy to jab him into the wall harder.

He threw his head back, smashing it against hard stone and forcing his lips wide open around the surprised “Unnngh!” that spilled past. Dry lips touched the now exposed column of his throat, slightly to the right of what eventually would become a prominent adams apple, pressing and then sucking. That took care of the smashed skull, he chuckled to himself in his head as his hands moved from clawing strong shoulders through dusty cloth to drifting up into shaggy, sandy hair that twined thickly around his fingers that were slightly slick with sweat. He only had to tug briefly for his partner to recognize the cue and shift his chin up, kiss a descending jaw in passing before fusing both their lips together tightly.

For a single brief second, Severus Snape thanked the fates for his nose. Without it he surely would have suffocated by the time a confident tongue cracked his lips open to lick the seam of his crooked teeth. Just as he opened his mouth fully for invasion, the caressing lips pulled back. Both boys paused flush and panting, breathing each other's stale breath with mouths fallen open centimeters apart.

Severus ventured forward to tentatively lick a swollen bottom lip and entice the wayward mouth back to his, never once letting his eyes leave the lush, pink, and puffy skin that moments ago had been just as dry and delicately cracked as his own. A particularly hard thrust from the cock that had yet to cease pounding in and out of him to the exact rhythm of his racing heartbeat jarred him against the wall, shaking his eyes and attention up on intent irises far too vividly blue to imagine grey.

“God, your tight. Had to make up for your face somehow, I guess. Are you sure you're not a virgin?” A gasp, and the boy catches his breath. “Ah! Hmmnn, I guess virgin's aren't in the habit of carrying lube around with them, are they?” Another gasp and a light sort of throaty chuckle.

The fledgling scowl Severus attempted to form in response died suddenly, effectively crushed as a wet, foreign tongue darted past lips to rub his palate. It was broad and long, swiping everything from teeth to cheek with little loving licks like a dog before plunging down his throat, receding, then plunging right back down again.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Any possible room he could have in his body for thought was already occupied, filled so full at both ends as he was. Pistoned from two directions at once, not always synchronized. He felt like a river, malleable and flowing, his insides beaten to a liquid that now sought to seep out his every pore and leave a barren canyon carved through time. Oh, he had to make this stop, had to make it go on forever. His identity was eroding, and if this moment never ended, he'd never have to know. Never have to notice the difference, assess the damage. Everything was growing tight and closing in, squeezing every last thread of anger or bitterness he'd prized out and against him. Pressure was turning coal to diamond, encasing him in armor fifteen years thick.

A knot formed in the small of his back, an itch the bricks wouldn't scratch. He arched off the wall, shoulders forced back- abraded and bleeding by now, his white shirt still immaculately buttoned, stained and ripped- chest thrust forward, nipples hard and caught on starched fabric. The movement pushed the overbearing tongue from his throat for an overdue breath, and pushed his far from neglected arse down, impaling him impossibly farther.

Every nerve along his spine crackled to concentrate in that damn knot. His blood was sizzling in his very veins. He could barely remember his own name let alone the name of the boy intimately wedged between his legs, if he'd ever known it at all. That blinding white light seemed pasted to the back of his eyelids, the illuminated end of a tunnel, ever-present and taunting. Suddenly, the light pulsed. It flashed so brilliant to burn retinas that might as well have been his soul. He was floating and boneless, lost in an oblivion that spread like a calm sea in twilight.

Slowly he returned to reality, shaken back into time and space by jerks and huffs, blunt incisors in the juncture of neck and collarbone. His companion blithely continued his endeavor, unaware of any transcendent or miraculous occurrence that may or may not have just happened before him. Severus himself was still trying to decide.

It would probably have been rude to clear his throat and ask the preoccupied boy to cease his invasive presence. Mother had always taught him to mind his manners, not that he was in any way aquatinted with the etiquette that one encountered in such instances as these. No, he wasn't in pain. Sensitive perhaps but not in pain. Best to not risk offense and simply wait it out.

He tilted his head back to watch the clouds as dusk settled into the sky. Soon the shifting greys began to remind him of pale eyes blazing behind hair of black as dark and elegantly draped as the encroaching night behind. He closed his eyes and pretended the lids presented a far more interesting view, like curtains drawn on a stage where anything could lie behind.

Mother's carefully prepared dinner was most likely long cold by now, shameful since they could barely afford to waste food. He could just picture her impatiently tapping her foot in the dingy kitchen, imagining a world where she didn't do this same thing every damn day, wait for her angry son to return with her drunk husband slung over the broad, rugby-built shoulders of the pub owner's son. Severus himself couldn't even aspire to drag the lump of a man home, regardless of the fact they could almost see eye to eye now. He wondered whether Mother would even let his father spit on this particular pub if she knew what the owner's son was currently doing to her boy.

He realized the sharp pang of a bite had receded from his neck to be replaced by a damp forehead. The older boy was now slumped against him and still. His breath continued heavy and panting as it had ever been, but the tight embrace he'd employed to keep Severus lifted in position was now slack and almost comfortable. Severus lowered his prematurely long legs to shakily support his own weight once again and noted a distinctly squishy quality to the movement of his arse muscles. A trickle of something thick and viscous could be felt on his thighs. He hadn't noticed when, but the other boy had disconnected them at some point. He seemed empty, hollow, and that made him angry enough to pound a fist against the bricks, try to rattle the whole pub, shake the world on its foundation.

Damn it, he hated when he was right, hated getting exactly what he wanted only to find it was like sugar- delicious and addictive till you discovered the cavities. Sometimes he wonders if he's not unconsciously trying to destroy himself.


A kiss was placed behind his ear, and hands shifted up off hips for the first time to lift his shirt halfway up his chest. He watched blankly as a hand scraped his semen from the other boy's unfortunate shirt, caught in the crossfire. The hand shifted to smear and spread his own semen across his sallow, concave belly; the whiteness clashed horribly against his sunless skin. The rest was pressed to his lips in a reverent caress and he automatically darted his tongue out to lick the slim fingers clean of all lingering traces. It wasn't a pleasant taste, but he couldn't even be bothered to grimace at the moment. He just wanted to get home (not necessarily with his father in tow), not eat, go straight to his room to brood, and yell down the stairs for Mother to fetch her dear husband herself next time.

“You look thoroughly debauched. Bet your father won't even be able to tell though, bloody wanker. None the wiser while his son gallivants with men in back alleys.” Another throaty chuckle filled the empty air.

“You fashion yourself a man then?” He sneered. His lips pulled slightly against themselves, dry again already. Seems nothing changes for long in this Godforsaken town.

“Close enough to it anyway. Had the pleasure of turning 19- could you put your trousers back on by the way because its very hard to have a conversation with a bare ass- not three weeks ago. Dad says he's gonna start letting me have the pub to myself some days soon.” Severus turned from where he'd picked up his trousers off the dirt cobbles and watched as his companion easily tossed back that shaggy hair, zipped his fly (the only thing their activities had misplaced), and cracked a smile. Then, the boy shook his head slightly as he eyed Severus and tried not to notice the awkward, unsure way the dark boy carried himself. He refused to let his grin fall, however.

“Hey, how old are you anyway. I mean....”

“Shouldn't you have asked that before-”

“Before I was only thinking about how wonderfully those long legs I have to watch stroll up and down the street every day would feel wrapped around my waist. And then, when that lube fell out of your pocket when you leaned over to shake your dad awake, all bets were off. Pickings been a little slim lately. Everyone seems more depressed than usual, like they can feel something building, something bad.” He trailed off slightly and eyes were peering sideways through sandy bangs at Severus all of a sudden.

“I'm sixteen if you insist this is going to bother you so much.” The eyes didn't shift their inspection, boring into him better than should be logically possible. Perhaps, once a person's been inside you, they never really leave.

“You dropped the lube on purpose didn't you?”

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “No. I ran out last week and simply happened to buy some today.” A blatant lie. “I'm sure your ego appreciated that convenient suspicion.” Against all odds, that earned him another grin.

“I think this is the most I've ever heard you talk. Anyway, you're not exactly the type of bloke people brag about bagging, you know-”

“I'm well aware.”

“-but with an arse like that, you make a good dirty little secret. I have a few numbers of... "friends” who help me pass the time I could give you if you wish to continue to practice your developing interests.”

“Developing? What makes you think-”

“Oh be quiet, liar. You were a virgin. Exceptionally perceptive but a virgin. And, I'm still flattered by the way. Been a while since I've been deliberately seduced.” He softly kissed a flushed cheek and patted Severus on the arse as he passed by. “I do believe your father has overstayed his welcome again, hasn't he? Shall we go fetch him?” He cocked his arm at the elbow to offer for Severus as if he was a maiden and they were to walk arm in arm to the races. As he reluctantly took the proffered arm, he realized, just maybe, he hadn't taken quite enough time choosing his initial target. Well, shit. It was even worse that he didn't seem to mind.

“Oh, yeah. My name's Alexis. You know, if you ever need to use it. Hard to scream Pub-Owner's-Son in ecstasy, aint it?” He winked and Severus shivered. Something important was happening, turning points crashing against him like waves. For a brief second he actually wished he'd taken Divination, then he cursed himself for such blasphemy. Only men controlled their destiny. Too bad he was still a boy.