Chapter 1: Midnight's Broken Muse
Severus lay sprawled across his bed, the cool sheets clinging to his bare chest as it rose and fell with each heavy breath. Two days. Two damned days since Minerva had vanished, and her absence gnawed at him like a persistent ache. Where the hell was she? His mind raced with possibilities, each more troubling than the last, when a sharp knock shattered the silence of the night.
He dragged himself to the door, clad only in loose trousers, and flung it open. His breath caught, eyes widening in shock. There she stood—Minerva, but not as he knew her. Cat ears perched atop her head, a fluffy tail swaying nervously behind her. She was a mess, blood-streaked and naked, save for a cruel collar chained around her neck. Bites and bruises marred her skin, burns seared across her chest, and her thighs bore the brutal imprints of hands and whips. Her green eyes shimmered with fear and a flicker of desperate hope.
“Severus…” Her voice trembled, barely a whisper, as her ears flattened against her head. “Please… help me.”
He stepped aside, gesturing her in, his jaw tight as he took in the full extent of her injuries—lash marks crisscrossing her back, her body trembling not just from the winter chill but from raw terror. “What the hell happened to you, Minerva?” His voice was low, laced with barely restrained fury.
She flinched, tail whipping anxiously. “Don’t… don’t fuck me, please. I can’t take it again. I’ll do anything—anything else. A blowjob, whatever you want, just not that. I’m begging you.” Tears streamed down her reddened cheeks, her voice cracking with desperation.
His brows shot up, shock morphing into anger. “Calm down, woman! I’m not some beast looking to ravage you!” His tone sharpened unintentionally, and a jolt of electricity sparked from the cursed collar, forcing a pained gasp from her lips. She dropped to her knees, hands fumbling at his trousers, tears spilling as she tugged them down.
“Minerva, stop!” Severus growled, grabbing her wrists, but her lips were already brushing the head of his cock, her movements mechanical, driven by fear and whatever drugs coursed through her system. He gripped her throat gently, halting her. “I said stop. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her eyes darted up, wide and glassy, but another shock from the collar made her whimper. He cursed under his breath, pulling her to her feet. “Enough of this.” Ignoring her weak protests and hissing, he scooped her into his arms, her body cold as ice from the winter night she’d endured. She clawed at him, her sharp nails leaving faint scratches, but he held firm, carrying her to the bathroom.
“Put me down, damn it!” she spat, her voice a mix of fear and defiance, tail thrashing. But when he didn’t flinch, she covered her mouth, trembling as if expecting a blow for her outburst.
“I’m not them, Minerva,” he said sharply, setting her under the warm spray of the shower. “I’m cleaning you up, not punishing you. Stop fighting me.” Her resistance faded into shudders as the water washed away blood and grime, revealing more scars and the raw, dripping wounds between her thighs. His gut twisted—he knew the risks, the damage. She couldn’t handle more trauma, not now.
Dried and wrapped in a thick blanket, she sat on his bed, still shivering, her cat ears twitching at every sound. He handed her a mug of tea, but her shaky hands fumbled, spilling the hot liquid. The mug shattered on the floor, and she froze, eyes wide with terror. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Please, don’t hit me—I deserve it, I know, but please—” She curled in on herself, hands shielding her head.
“Minerva, look at me,” Severus snapped, crouching beside her. “I’m not going to lay a finger on you. Stop apologizing for breathing.”
She peeked through her fingers, tail curling tight around her leg. “I… I just thought… they always—”
“I’m not them,” he cut in, voice softer but firm. “You’re safe here. Got it?”
Her nod was hesitant, but her body suddenly convulsed, a pained mewl escaping her lips as her form shimmered, briefly shifting into that of a small cat before reverting—ears and tail stubbornly remaining. Her eyes glistened, a mix of pain and something primal, her body betraying her with heat despite the agony.
“You’re burning up,” he muttered, brushing a hand near her ear, only for her to hiss and flinch. “I’m not pulling your damn tail, woman. I’m trying to help.”
“Don’t… don’t touch them. They’re sensitive. They hurt,” she whispered, voice raw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”
He pulled her closer, ignoring her tense frame, wrapping her in his warmth. “Shut up with the apologies. Just rest.” Her body pressed against his, seeking heat, her breathing ragged, a mix of fear and need. He could feel her trembling, her skin damp with sweat, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Whatever had been done to her, whatever curse or drug fueled her, it was clear she was on the edge—and so was he, fighting the urge to give in to the raw, pulsing desire her presence stirred.
But not yet. Not like this.
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