A/N: So, yeah, this is completely horrible. Snape goes insane. This is set during fifth year before Dumbledore left and after the Occlumency lessons started. Now if you could please read the following warning:

WARNING: contains violence, noncon, slash

If you have read the warnings, read this anyway, and complain about it, you are an idiot.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything *sigh*.

Severus Snape was by no means a kind-hearted man; there was no deeply buried sense of morality or honor or caring that a foolish few seemed to believe must be there somewhere, hidden beneath layers of pain and world-weariness. Once, when he was a child, innocent as all children are, he had allowed himself to feel. But those emotions were long frosted over with bitterness and anger. No, all that was left now was that calculated sense of superiority that exists in all Slytherins, an obsessive desire for a now impossible revenge against his childhood tormentor, and love gone to madness.

"Again, Potter! Legilimens!" Harry's knees buckled beneath him under the onslaught of a combination of humiliating, pleasant, and painful memories: Guarding Sirius from a horde of dementors descending upon them with rotting breath and the promise of oblivion, snatching the Golden Snitch from the air seconds before Malfoy's hand closed over the struggling ball, Mrs. Weasley holding him firmly the night of the Third Task...

"Get OUT!" Harry screamed at last, forcing Snape from his mind with an almighty shove. His Potions Professor stumbled and quickly steadied himself against the desk behind him, sneering down at Harry where he crouched on the cold, stone floor.

"Get up, Potter. Pathetic... One would almost think that you wanted the Dark Lord to have access to these memories, to present your every weakness before him-" Snape sneered.

"Well, I don't! I'm trying, but you're not showing me -"

"Do not interrupt me, Potter!" Snape snarled, advancing on the boy. "You will show me the proper respect! I am your teacher, and as such-"

"Well then, why don't you actually do your bloody job and teach me how to block my mind instead of just attacking me over and over again!" Harry bellowed, hands gathering into fists at his sides. For a moment, the only sound in the room was Harry's furious and heavy breathing while Snape glowered down his nose at the boy.

"I have tried to get this through that thick skull of yours time and time again," he said quietly, "Control your emotioms. Or do you honestly believe that you'll be able to kill the Dark Lord with your blind fury alone? Legili-"

"Protego!" Harry shouted, wand drawn and pointed directly at Snape's face.

Harry found himself standing outside in Hogwarts' sunlit courtyard, a couple of feet away from an achingly familiar pair of people sitting on one of the stone benches, and watched as they continued an obviously heated discussion.

"Severus, come on. I don't know why you bother with that lot. You know what half the school is saying about them, don't you?" A girl with flaming red hair and bright green eyes, standing in the sunlit courtyard beside a scrawny, dark-haired boy.

"And since when do you care what other people say?" came the short reply.

"You know what I mean! Nott, Avery and the rest of them love the dark arts. I don't doubt the rumors that have been going around the school lately – they're planning on joining You-Know-Who as soon as they turn of age next year. I don't know why you hang out with them, Sev – "

The world was swallowed up with a blinding flash of colors before settling again on a different scene, in a darkened corridor...

"Why the bloody hell do you want to go out with him anyway? Potter and the rest of them have only been prats to us from the beginning."

"Well, sometimes people deserve to be given a second chance. He seemed sincere enough."

"They tried to kill me!" the younger Snape cried.

"You know as well as I do that that was your fault. You shouldn't have gone down there, no one's supposed to." Lily started to leave, pulling gently away from Severus' clinging fists. "Let me go, Severus. Let me go, it's not up to you who I go out with anyway."

"Like hell it isn't!" Snape shouted, dark eyes hard as he glared.

"And what's that supposed to – " Severus leaned forward and devoured her protesting mouth in a clumsy kiss. Lily tried to push him away, confused and a little angry now.

"Get off me, Snape! I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"I can't let you!" The next second, the world righted itself in a dizzying sort of backflip and Harry found himself standing once again in the gloomy Potions Master's study, and in the presence of a furious, fully-grown Severus Snape.

"What the hell were you trying to do, boy?" Snape demanded, looking wildly around at Harry, lip curling in his rage.

"You-you fancied my mum?" Harry asked, disgust and horror written plainly on his face.

A look of pained loss briefly crossed the professor's face, but then it was gone and a contorted visage was left in its place. "Shut up, just shut up, Potter!" screamed Snape, spittle flying from his lips as he stormed over to where Harry stood, paralyzed with shock. Snape lifted his hand and struck the boy swiftly across the face, knocking Harry sideways into the shelves of potions ingredients lining the walls. There was a tinkle of shattering glass as Harry pushed himself away from the sticky mess of some slimy foul thing he really didn't want to know the name of, and prepared to stoop down and grab his bag, feeling that the session was obviously over. Snape, however, did not make to move away and Harry found himself backed against a stone wall nose to chest with his enraged Potions professor.

"Sir, I – "

"I thought I told you to shut up!" There was immediate silence as Harry snapped his mouth closed and tried to press himself further into the wall behind him, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Something hidden by Snape's voluminous robes was poking him right in the middle of his stomach, something hot and hard and definitely not right.

Snape lifted his hand to Harry's face again. Instinctively, Harry flinched away, but Snape only pressed the pad of his index finger to Harry's cheek, stroking the skin of Harry's face in some sick parody of a caress.

"Shut... up..." he hissed, dark eyes boring into Harry's with such intensity that Harry squirmed under his gaze, wanting desperately to be anywhere but there. The gentle touch turned painful as Snape dug his potion-stained fingernails in, drawing small, crescent shaped wounds in the flesh. Harry shut his eyes, so utterly confused by what Snape was doing and what he had seen in that memory of his mother, and allowed Snape to continue his ministrations for now but prepared to bolt at a moment's notice, muscles taught.

"Potter," Snape suddenly growled, breaking the thick silence that had permeated the room. And then, without warning, he dug his knee in between Harry's legs and lifted him up against the wall, feet dangling inches above the ground. Harry immediately started to struggle, kicking and scratching and trying desperately to touch the floor, forgetting momentarily about the wand in his pocket. But a moment was all it took.

"Accio wand!" Harry's wand jumped from his pocket, straight into Snape's waiting hand and was then tossed unceremoniously to the ground, useless to him. "Not bloody likely, boy!"

Snape seized Harry's wrists in a vice-like grip and pinned them to the wall on either side of his head. "Professor!" Harry gasped, but there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to get himself out of this.

Snape gathered his hands into one tight fist and a moment later, Harry's head snapped to the side stinging and already reddening in a bruise. There was a coppery taste in his mouth as Snape proceeded to attack his trousers, to what end Harry had no idea. Because there was no way that Severus Snape, the same Potions professor who had taunted him in class and who had once saved his life, could possibly want that from him.

"Foolish child..." Snape muttered under his breath, "Insolent, disrespectful, arrogant whelp!" Harry's trousers were tugged down and dropped to the floor, Snape having to adjust his position for a moment to shove them past his knee, and Harry's boxers quickly followed, leaving him in no doubt about what was about to happen. Harry immediately renewed his struggles.

"Get OFF me!" he screamed, "Let go! Let go! Let GO!"

"Shut up!" Snape snapped, "Getting what you deserve, boy... Look at me!" Harry was frantic now, eyes clamped shut and his face turned away as he scrabbled against the wall, trying hard not to think about the thing that was jutting uncomfortably into his side or the fact that he was practically naked, bearing all for his least favorite teacher to see. That alone was enough to send him into an outright panic, each breath sharp, ragged, and not containing near enough oxygen to feed his hungry lungs. Snape's hand cupped his jaw roughly and forced Harry to look around at him, squeezing hard until Harry felt more blood filling his mouth, dribbling over his lips and onto Snape's pale arm.

"You will look at me!" he hissed. Then Snape undid his own trowsers, allowing his straining erection to spring free, purple and throbbing with a bit of precum dripping from the head.

This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not – His mantra was suddenly interrupted as Snape shifted his position, releasing Harry's hands and grabbing behind his knees, lifting him up off Snape's knee as the man moved closer to him. Harry was held up between the wall and Snape's body, his legs on either side of Snape's hips and his crotch right at the man's cock. Harry was shaking uncontrollably now as he found that, even though Snape had released them, his hands were still trapped above his head as if held by invisible bindings.

Harry frantically cast his mind around, trying desperately to ignore his surroundings, but when Snape lifted him up and pressed against his hole, without any form of lubrication and unprepared, he came undone. Tears streamed down his face and there was a moment where time seemed to freeze around him before Snape thrust violently into him, ripping and tearing as he slowly dragged Harry's hips flush against his own, buried to the hilt. Then Harry screamed.

The agony was unbearable and so profoundly wrong, humiliating and disgusting. Harry felt that surely he was being torn in two. Snape held him there, staring straight into his green eyes, and Harry saw madness, darkness, hatred beneath the black orbs that were piercing him like knives. Something hot and sticky dripped down from – well, there – and then Snape was moving inside him, pulling out just as painfully as he had entered.

The rhythm was slow at first, each jerking thrust as painful as the last, but Snape gradually picked up speed until he was moving at a frantic pace.

"No, no, no, no, no! Please! Please stop! No! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please!" Harry barely noticed the steady stream of pleas bursting from his mouth, consumed as he was by fear and the terrible agony, until he no longer had the breath for anything but his heaving sobs. The unforgiving stones grated on his back as he was forced up and down, up and down, and Harry attempted to focus on that feeling instead of what was happening to him.

What seemed like hours later, Snape gave a great shudder and hollered in Harry's ear as he came. Harry felt his insides flood with something hot and sticky while Snape rotated his hips a few more times, savoring his violent orgasm for a few more moments before pulling out of Harry with a soft plop. Harry slid to the floor and immediately gathered his knees to his chest, the choking sobs still forcing their way past his lips.

Without a glance back at him, Snape swept from the room, stooping down for a moment to snatch Harry's wand from the floor before passing through the door that could only lead to his private quarters.

Harry quickly gathered up his clothes and pulled them on the second Snape vanished from sight, fumbling with the button on his jeans and trembling uncontrollably. He rushed towards the door and yanked on the handle, wanting desperately to flee... but the door didn't budge. It was locked. For now, he was trapped in here with his mad Potions professor (because there was no doubt in his mind now that Snape had completely lost it), wandless and essentially defenseless. It was late at night, nobody would be looking for him; Ron and Hermione had probably already gone to sleep, given up on waiting for him – and he didn't blame them. Who would have thought...

The distant sound of running water came from the general direction of Snape's quarters. Harry's heart was thundering in his ears as he debated with himself. Did he dare risk getting caught on the chance that Snape had left Harry's wand lying around somewhere while he was in the shower? But what else could he do, really? He couldn't stay here. Dumbledore, he had to talk to Dumbledore... or at least Ron and Hermione. Harry really didn't want to think about the way either of those conversations would go. This entire situation was just... so humiliating.

He had fought and survived Voldemort time and time again; a basilisk, a werewolf, a freaking horde of dementors, and everything the Triwizard Tournament had thrown at him last year – and yet, he couldn't defend himself against one of his teachers. Admittedly said teacher was possibly a Death Eater and years ahead of him in magical training alone. But Harry didn't have time to think about this: Escape should be foremost in his mind, the rest could wait.

Harry paused to listen for a moment, and when it didn't seem that Snape would be coming out anytime soon, he cautiously approached the door, one agonizingly slow step at a time. He stood before it, hand outstretched with his pulse pounding in his ears, breathing raggedly through his nose as he steeled himself to just reach out and turn the handle... assuming it wasn't locked, of course.

It was just a door, nothing scary, not nearly as dangerous as some of the things he'd faced before. But then why was this so damn hard? The rusty handle felt like ice beneath his clammy fingers, and he gently pulled it open before his nerve failed him. He half expected Snape to come rushing out at him, brandishing his wand ready to curse him or attack him again. A great shudder ripped down his spine before he could suppress it.

The large, dimly lit room was, as far as Harry could see, completely empty. From behind another door off to the side, presumably leading to the restroom where Snape himself must be, came the thrumming sound of water on tile. Harry's breath whooshed out of him in a sigh of relief that sounded far too loud in his ears. Harry's eyes scanned the shadowy space as he carefully stepped further into the room, looking around for that thin piece of wood; nothing but a couple of books on the bedside tables and a sparse wardrobe, but the drawers were locked.

Gaining confidence as he had yet to be caught, Harry began his search in earnest, stripping away the pillows and sheets, searching virtually every inch of the room except of course the set of drawers that he could not pry open, no matter how hard he tried.

"Looking for something, Mr. Potter?" Harry jumped about a foot in the air and spun around, facing his professor in a defensive crouch. "Perhaps you were not content to simply inflict your presence upon me during normal classes and your abysmal Occlumency lessons, and felt the need to intrude even further upon me, long after it was clear you had overstayed your welcome. It is nearing midnight, Potter! What the devil do you think you're doing here, in my private quarters at such an hour? I thought I told you to get out!" Harry furrowed his brow at this.

"Y-you locked the door and you still have my wand!" he said boldly, straightening his back in a rather pointless attempt at dignity.

"What are you on about, boy? I do not have your -" but Snape broke off suddenly as he reached into his pocket and undoubtedly came into contact with not one, but two wands. Harry's and his own. Harry watched anxiously as Snape withdrew both wands from the folds of his black robes (was the man ever not wearing them) and stared at them, an angry frown forming on his face.

"Well what are you still standing there for, Potter? Take it." And, sure enough, Snape held it out to him by the tip, still looking distinctly unsettled. Harry took a wary step back.

"Is this some sort of trick?" he asked quietly. Snape's eyes flicked up to meet Harry's and Harry flinched away, unsure.

"What do you mean, Mr. Potter?" barked Snape impatiently. Harry hesitated.

"Well... you're actually...? You're going to let me go? Just like that?"

Snape snorted. "Of course, idiot boy. What possible reason could I have for wanting to keep you here? Now take your wand and get out of my sight!" Harry gaped for a moment before quickly snatching his wand from Snape's outstretched hand and hurrying towards the exit, mind still scrambling to come up with some sort of explanation for this.

Well, that was easy: Snape was barking mad.

A/N: If you guys liked it, I can continue on. You know, what does Harry do about this? What the hell's wrong with Snape? Does Harry decide to tell Dumbledore and get Snape in trouble? Or I could backtrack and tell Snape's PoV and how he got to this point. If not, it can stay an open ended one-shot.