The Tear

Severus' ears registered the sound of the heavy iron door opening. He squeezed his eyes shut, the biggest move he was actually in any shape of performing. That night had been a particularly terrible one. It had hurt to much, just so damn much... the physical pain mixed with the atrocious feeling of helplessness and humiliation, his pride once more shattered to thousands of pieces. Blood was still coagulating on his back, the echoes of his own screams hung on his ears, the soulless sadistic laughter piercing its way through.

The Dark Lord was known for taking pleasure in pain.

Severus could stand being beaten and cursed, hell he put other people through so much aching, not like he couldn't take most of it. But he didn't like Voldemort's place of choice for hurting him.

What hurt more, Severus wondered. The swollen body or the wounded honour?

Snape was gay. He enjoyed the company of other men, had a lover himself. But the Dark Lord was not a man. His company was unwanted, the sex forced and painful each time. The offended tissues hurt. Severus' very soul hurt and dripped its blood in the shape of tears

Voldemort, however, never got to see those tears. It would have meant surrender, the breaking of the spirit. Severus' spirit had not yet been broken or tamed. His body was whipped and cursed and raped and his heart could barely stand the shame, but his spirit kept firm. And his hatred grew until it embodied the world. Every time Severus took hold of his wand to cause someone pain he wished that the terrified eyes starring up at him were red ones.

The red eyes, together with the piercing laughter, haunted Severus Snape. He could shut it away from his thoughts during most of the day, but over his dreams he did not hold any kind of power. In the darkness the red eyes glowered brighter and bloodthirsty. Darkness was a cloak that hid Severus' tears. No light had ever seen them, no light except one.

Severus was suddenly too aware of a hand smoothing his hair. A slender, pale, well-manicured hand. He tried to lean on the caress, much more precious after all the suffering.

"So you're awake."

The soft, silken voice. The fingers buried themselves deeper in the mess of raven hair. Severus could hear the other hand moving, and he felt his bonds being unfastened. He didn't move a muscle, all of him concentrating in the feel of that hand, that beloved hand with its tender caresses.

"Someone has made a mess of you, Severus. Gods..."

The free hand used one fingertip to trace a red line on his back, and Severus stiffened. Despite the delicate touch, it hurt. But he wouldn't utter a word.

Words were seldom needed between he and Lucius.

Severus started to turn around, careful not to hurt himself. A gasp was caught in his throat as his bruised back touched the sheets. He lifted his eyes to the man seated at the bed, waiting patiently. The glowering darkness of his eyes met dull, inexpressive pools of grey.

"Lucius."

The fact that he was naked didn't bother Severus in the least bit.

"He's left. With Crouch I suppose. Not that it matters."

"Hmm."

Severus nodded imperceptibly. Lucius would not have come it there was a chance of Voldemort being there. No one would have come. Not even Lucius.

He looked at the blond, bright figure before him. Lucius had been his first crush, his friend, his lover. For such a long time... and yet his beauty struck Severus whenever the dark-haired wizard chose to look at him. Lucius seemed to be made of mythical, ethereal light. Thus he looked so out of place on that dungeon, seating on the four poster bed, glowing in the dark of the bedsheets, of his Death Eater attires. A bright light in the darkness of Severus Snape's existence.

But not even this fallen angel would save him from the red eyes.

"I am on my way to the Manor. It is easy to get to Hogwarts from there."

Severus could have frowned. Lucius was always so vague about what they had. True and passionate, but somehow irritatingly vague at times.

"If you're in any conditions of doing so."

Ah, it was there. Severus didn't fail to notice the concern on his friend's voice.

"Suppose I'll be needing my wand then." He said as he pulled himself to a seating position.

Lucius extended it to him, and when their fingers brushed the brief contact sent warmth from Severus' fingertips up to his spine.

He was bathing in the light.

Lucius bent to pick something on the floor, and when he lifted it to eye level it was with evident disgust. It was Snape's clothing, or what had been left of it.

Looking at the ripped fine tissue, Severus felt the cuts on his back ache again.

Bastard, raping bastard, bloodthirsty bastard, sadistic bastard, fucking torturing bastard.

Severus' eyes were burning with hatred. Tears promptly settled to fix the matter, and before the raven haired wizard knew it a tear had streamed its way down his pale cheek.

"Here, Sev."

He looked up. Lucius was offering him his cloak. The misty grey eyes gave nothing away, no pity, no concern. Severus thanked him for that in his heart, and took the cloak. He just held it on his lap, over his bruised member. His legs were spread on a large V, he noticed it only then.

Why, why me? Why fucking me of all bloody pale skinned servants? There are blasted willing idiots, why fucking me?!

His grip on the cloak tightened, as he realised when gentle hands tried to pull it from him. He allowed them to, and lifted his eyes to meet cool grey ones and a knowing smirk. He realised only then that he had been thinking a little too loud.

Lucius deftly threw the cloak over Severus' naked shoulders and fastened it as his usual lazy drawl was reduced to a whisper.

"Because you're damn sexy when you're angry, Sev."

The ghost of a teasing smile played on Lucius' thin lips as his hand moved from the silver clasp of the cloak to the blackness of Severus' hair.

Once again, Snape leaned in the caress of the soft hand. He should be angry at Lucius for making jokes about it. He should hex the blond that had not come to his rescue, that had allowed the nightmare to repeat itself endlessly.

Then how come it that he made it better? One caressing hand made Severus momentarily forget where he was and why was he there, what had just happened. A caress, a few words of the velvet voice made it so much better.

They had always done so.

The love that shone on Lucius Malfoy's greyish eyes was his and his alone, Severus knew that much. As he had been chosen to suffer disgrace and humiliation of the worst sort possible, he had also been chosen to rejoice in the light.

He brought a hand to Lucius' one, which was on his hair, cupping it. They entangled fingers.

Lucius flashed him a veela smile.

It was reflected by the single tear, crystal clear on its way down Severus' face.

The Dark Lord could have his body, his screams, his pride. But not his tears. These were little bits of the light within Severus, the brightness of the untamed spirit. Untamed, but not free. Not alone. Its glowing light matched Lucius'.

Lucius, the keeper of his light.

Severus saw his lover's face inches away from his own, and his eyelids closed in delight as soft lips brushed against his cheek, a tip of the pink tongue licking away the salt of his tear.

The dark haired wizard let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding in the shape of a sigh. His fingers were still entangled with Lucius', and their hands rest on the bed. A nuzzling nose to his neck and then a whisper.

"Wish I could kiss away the wounds all over the rest of you."

That tender voice. Severus' heart squeezed inside his chest.

"But this is not the most appropriate place for us to discuss such matters." Fingers were loosened.

The whispering voice became more distant as its owner pulled back, his warm breath was missed instantly. Severus opened his eyes.

"Shut up Malfoy." He snapped with a defiant glare, lowering his eyebrows.

He was presented with a playful chuckle.

"I'll take it you horny creature don't mind time and place."

As long as it's the right someone. As long as I'm not being beaten or tortured or goddamn raped. As long as the games being played don't make me sick. As long as you eyes aren't red.

"In spit of being with you I still have some sense, you know."

Severus stated in a calm, matter-of-fact manner.

"Really. Your entire being should reach an agreement before you speak, Sev."

Lucius looked pointedly at the one part of Severus' body that was clearly not minding time or place.

Why did Lucius have this effect on him, Snape wondered. Ok, so he's damn hot. I'm in the Dark Lord's bed, on which I've just been abused. I should be feeling a lot more homicidal and a lot less aroused. Blasted Malfoy, he seems amused at this.

Severus could do little but scowl and pull the cloak around himself as he thought of a worthy comeback.

"Don't stare so much, Malfoy. Like you've never seen it."

He hissed, giving up on the search for something intelligent.

"I don't look away from what pleases me."

"The Malfoy arrogance and need for gratification." Severus let out.

"No. My need for your long, thick - "

"Who's the horny creature now?"

Severus lifted an eyebrow challengingly.

"Did I ever say I didn't want you?"

Ah, the silky voice. The wanting voice that filled the air, languid moans turning to rhythmic repetitions. The needy voice uttering passion as he and Severus fucked each other senseless, the same way they had done so many times.

With Lucius it was never enough.

Severus drifted to sleep, his legs entangled to his love's.

Had he kept his eyes open twenty minutes longer, he would have seen the slender legs becoming paler, the shoulder length silvery hair reaching waist in its black form. He would have stared into a pair of red eyes.

Voldemort contemplated the sleeping form of Severus Snape. He looked so peaceful. Too peaceful.

"You're damn sexy when you're angry, Sev," he muttered to himself.

And way funnier, he thought.

But there would be something good to come from it. The Dark Lord smiled at the thought of Severus finding out what had happened when he talked to his beloved Lucius. He feasted in the anticipation of the angst, the hatred, the suffering and pain Severus was due to go through when he found out that he had been deceived, had given himself to his abuser willingly.

Why you, Severus? I may not have liked to hurt you, but you're so pretty when you cry.