Sinope's Fiction: Independent Research

Title: Independent Research
Author: Sinope at (no spam!) gmail dot com
Rating: R
Pairing: Snape/Tom Riddle
Warning: Non-explicit sexual abuse of a child.
Summary: Severus finds a father figure.
Author's notes: A birthday present for the lovely and talented Anjali! Thanks to Jude for the beta.
Disclaimer: This is an unofficial fan work. No profit was made; no ownership is implied.

The very best thing about working at a bookstore, Severus thought, was that he could read any book he pleased, even the ones that he could never afford to buy (or afford to be found with). At school, he had to hide his readings with Concealment Charms and cunning, but Mr. McClaggan just chuckled knowingly and nudged Severus whenever a customer walked through the door.

When he saw the shop's first customer on a sultry July morning, though, Severus nearly dropped his book out of his lap, jumping to his feet with trembling hands. "You're - you're Tom Riddle!"

A dazzling smile radiated over Severus. "Yes, I am. What's your name, my studious young friend?"

"S-Severus. Severus Snape."

The man's smile widened, generous and distant, just as Severus had always imagined a real father's smile to be. "Ah, a Snape. A proud wizarding name. Did you know that Hadrian Snape wrote the foundational tome on unicorn blood and bone?"

Severus gave Mr. Riddle a shy smile. "Yes, but I thought that your research was even more groundbreaking. I really liked the connections you made between unicorn blood, dragon blood, and human blood in potionsmaking."

Surprise flitted over Mr. Riddle's face, followed by a smile in which Severus caught a glimpse of sharp, very white teeth. "You're a bright lad, Severus. Have you started in school yet?"

He nodded, "I just finished my first year at Hogwarts. It's really boring, though. They teach us as if we're all stupid Muggleborn, and all the good books are locked away."

"I understand completely. I was a Hogwarts pupil myself, you know. Slytherin, left in '57. You're a Snake too, I think?"

"Of course." Severus couldn't keep the scorn from his voice.

"Very good." Mr. Riddle leaned closer, until Severus could see the jade-green irises of his beautiful eyes. A gently intangible warmth brushed over him, soothing and kind. Severus resented it immediately. "I think I like you, Severus Snape. Would you like to visit me for tea tomorrow? I have some books I think you'd like - rare volumes that I doubt even your venerable master has seen."

"All right," Severus said. "When and where should I go?"

"Four o'clock. Ask for Mr. Riddle's room at the Hydra's Head." Finally breaking his gaze with Severus, Mr. Riddle scanned the room for Mr. McClaggan, who - Severus saw - was sorting through a stack of books in the far corner, a bit too nonchalantly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've a few rare volumes that I've been trying to acquire. I'll see you tomorrow, Severus."

Only in retrospect did Severus realise how strange it was that, though Mr. Riddle's hair framed his face in stylish locks of steel gray, his skin seemed baby-smooth and completely unlined.

The tea tasted fruity-sweet, like cherry and black-currant: that Severus remembers. He remembers glimpses of the books, too; still can he see one diagram of a unicorn vivisection, the skin of her under-belly pinned to the floor to reveal a mess of silvery entrails and two delicate hearts. Tom's hand guided Severus's fingers as they turned the pages, and Severus remembers trying to resist his touch, but he can't recall whether the resistance was only in his mind.

Severus remembers one thing above all else, though. Never a naive child, he knew what was coming the moment Mr. Riddle's fingers grazed up his skinny forearm, their touch warming him even through Severus's robes. He knew what was coming, that it would hurt, but that the books would be worth it. What he remembers hating more than anything, though, is that, between graceful touches and delicately heady thoughts twining their path through his mind, Mr. Riddle made him come.

Severus knocked on the door with three quiet, identical raps. The face that peered through, a moment later, sent a shiver squirming through Severus's body; he'd seen it so many times in dream and recollection that it scarcely seemed to belong to a real person any more. "Hello, Mr. Riddle," he said shyly. "I wanted to return the books you leant me. I really liked them. I haven't been able to try out all the spells and potions yet, because it's sometimes hard to find private places, but I've memorized them all. My favorite book was the primer on Dark Theory, though - it's loads better than the 'identify a redcap' rubbish that they teach us in class."

Mr. Riddle smiled indulgently, though his smile had acquired a more noticeable weariness over the year. "Do come in, Severus. I'd like to hear what you thought of them, and I would be more than happy to lend you some more books." He ran an appraising eye over the pile of tomes that Severus held. "I see you've taken good care of them, which is more than most boys your age would know how to do."

As Severus walked inside, letting the door shut behind him with the confidence that it would be laced with silencing charms, he turned to Mr. Riddle. "I have a question. The primer talked about Legilimency as a magical discipline, but they don't teach anything like that at Hogwarts, so I did some research in the library. Was that what you were doing last summer in my mind? And can you teach it to me?"

This time, Mr. Riddle's laugh sounded so light as to be artificial. "Perhaps when you're older, Severus. The magical exploration of the mind's secrets is a path that requires the wisdom and discipline of age. Though you're a very sharp boy, it takes more than knowledge to succeed at Legilimancy and its derivatives. Why don't you tell me what you thought of Kinnershaw's approach to mineral reagents, instead?"

Severus replied while Mr. Riddle Summoned a cup of fresh hot tea for him - less sweet this time, with hints of peppermint and lemon. Severus liked it much better, but still he said nothing. He also noticed that the tendrils through his mind were either decreased in number or increased in subtlety.

They spoke at great length, until the planes of Mr. Riddle's unnaturally youthful face dissolved into angles of yellow lamplight and red fire. Despite his mental reminders to remember the payment to come, Severus found himself speaking more freely than he ever had; Mr. Riddle was the first person since his father who actually understood things, and the first ever who wouldn't beat him if he couldn't remember the right answer. Most of the time, he knew that Mr. Riddle was talking down to him, but once in a while he would touch upon something - a careful question, a subtle connection realised - that would make Mr. Riddle smile with surprise and pause to think, and those moments made the whole conversation worthwhile.

When even the firelight began to dull into liquid crimson shadows, Mr Riddle looked up at Severus, giving him a searching gaze that renewed the shivers under his skin. "Come here, Severus. You've grown in the last year. Let me see your face."

Severus nodded, resigning himself without a flicker of changed expression, and knelt before Mr. Riddle's chair. The man cupped Severus's chin in one hand, tracing one slender finger down the line of his jaw, up and across his lips, over his nose, and across each eyebrow in turn, with the intense care of a focused painter. When he spoke, Severus realised that he'd been holding his breath. "Do you think that you're beautiful, Severus?"

"I'm not stupid," Severus wrinkled his nose. "Even my parents think I'm ugly - why d'you think they send me away for the summers?"

Mr. Riddle smiled, tracing the outer edge of Severus's ear. "Then your parents are fools. The translucent, blueish hollows under your eyes - the dark shadow of your lashes - the perfect white crescents of your fingernails . . . Would you kiss me, Severus?"

"If you want," Severus said in a voice barely audible, and he pressed his lips to Mr. Riddle's large, red mouth.

These memories, the first of many, still shine darkly brilliant in Severus's mind, irrevocably imprinted by their newness. Dark magic, mind magic, sex magic, theories and techniques devoured with the hunger of one who saw them as his only home. He learned not to mention Dumbledore's name, even in scorn, and he learned not to look surprised when Mr. Riddle's other guests called him "My Lord." He learned the movements and the words that would make Mr. Riddle's eyes sparkle with pleasure: a soft whimper as he was breached, a sprinkling of youthful flattery so earnest it seemed real. He learned that, with Mr. Riddle, it was always safest to pretend not to understand a few things from each book. He learned that, for all he told himself of payment and debt, he very much liked to be touched.

But the brilliance was there. That was all that mattered.

Severus lay on Mr. Riddle's rug, curled up with a book and drooping asleep, his trousers still damp and unfastened from the evening's earlier activities. The fire warmed his face and hands pleasantly; behind him, he could hear the regular scritch-scratch of Mr. Riddle writing at his desk. It took him a few moments to notice when the writing stopped, and a large, gentle hand ruffled through his hair. "Time for you to go home, my slumbering scholar."

Severus nodded sleepily, pushing himself up on his forearms and seeing Mr. Riddle's familiar face bare inches away. "I know. I love you, Mr. Riddle."

The warm, sinuous tendrils throughout Severus's mind suddenly froze ice-cold. "I think that you should go home now, Severus," Mr Riddle repeated, and his back was to Severus's face. "I always thought that you were the intelligent one."

finis.