Short: 'Dream of thyself,' Severus/himself

Title: Dream of thyself
Author: diagonalist
Warnings: Dark. Mention of attempted rape.
A/N: Written for the 'Fantasia' challenge



The person Severus saw in the mirror changed every time he looked. It was one of the reasons he knew himself to be untrustworthy. He managed to avoid every school photograph, and that Creevey brat, because if cameras never lied then he didn't want to know what they saw in him.

It happened on occasion that someone found him attractive. Albus had indicated an interest years ago. But Severus didn't think of Albus when he wrapped his hand around his cock at night. He wasn't sure what the headmaster saw in him, but it certainly wasn't real. He was not some redeemed puppy, looking for a master in a different way.

Lucius. Lucius still visited sometimes, and tried to touch him. Had tried to force him once. Severus had proved that he still possessed a Death Eater's instincts and capacity for torture, and Crucioed the bastard into the ground. When he'd looked at himself in the mirror that night, he'd been ugly, his face shadowed and black. He didn't like seeing himself like that, so it was never Lucius who occupied his mind when he cupped his balls and squeezed, almost painfully.

There had even been a few students. Mainly Slytherins, who liked to go looking for trouble, but there had been a Ravenclaw girl once. All of them he'd torn to shreds with great enjoyment. The thought of young flesh was not an appealing one. He did think of the insults he had used though, as he fucked his hole with his wand.

No, he didn't think of his wand.

The very absence of fantasy figures was rather notable. Severus' mind had always been completely blank when he masturbated, until he reached the age of fifteen. He'd become a prefect. With access to the private bathroom, which had floor length mirrors and a lock on the door.

After that, he'd only ever climaxed while staring at his own heavy-lidded expression staring back at him. Sometimes he varied his routine, and forced his body or face into unusual contortions. The time he had been on hands and knees, watching himself from upside down with a shower head up his arse, gushing against his prostate, and a smile on his face had been the hardest he'd ever come in his life.

He didn't allow himself to do things like that often, so that he could savour them. But he dreamed about them all the time.