Title: The Brothel of Requirement
Author: alisanne
Characters: Severus Snape/Harry Potter, George/Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin/Hermione Granger.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: incest, voyeurism, role-play
Themes/kinks chosen: Bad Porn Month: teacher/student spanking/discipline, hillbilly (or pureblood??) incest romp, cop/detective goes undercover into a debauched situation and must join in to avoid blowing their cover (so to speak…), one word: pornstache!
Word Count: ~2600
Summary: Harry never knew that facial hair could lead him astray.
Author's notes: I really thought I had nothing for this month's challenge, but then my trusty muse came through. *pets her* Thanks to sevfan for the speedy beta and to torino10154 for the handholding and support.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.


~

The Brothel of Requirement

~

Ron’s eyes widened as Harry walked into the living room. “You’ve got a creature on your face, mate!” he cried, drawing his wand. “I think I can get it, though! Hold still.”

“Ha, bloody ha,” Harry replied, collapsing onto a sofa. “Pillock! You’re just jealous that I’m growing some facial hair.”

Grinning, Ron holstered his wand. “Yeah, well, that thing’s taking on a life of its own.”

“You don’t like it?” Reaching up, Harry twirled the end in his fingers creating a point out of the hair. “I think it makes me look...manly.”

“I think it’s ridiculous,” Hermione said, walking in. Behind her floated several large books. “It makes you look like you’re trying to hide from the world.”

Harry blushed. “Well, what’s wrong with that? My face is always being plastered all over the papers. I bet if I went out like this, no one would recognise me. Bet it would make Auror missions safer.”

“You’re probably right,” Hermione agreed, settling into a chair. She plucked one of the heaviest looking tomes out of the air. “But do you really want to look like the people you’re trying to capture?”

Harry stuck his tongue out at her. “I’m keeping it,” he declared. “Maybe it’ll even get me a date.”

“With who? Aragog’s dead.” With a sniff, Hermione opened her book with a thump and began taking notes. “And don’t you two have work or something?”

“Law school’s made her have even less of a sense of humour than she used to,” Ron muttered as he and Harry quietly left.

“I heard that!” Hermione cried after them.

Ron shook his head. “I sometimes seriously wonder what happened to my best friends,” he joked, picking up a handful of Floo powder. “She used to be a fun rule breaker who’s now almost a barrister and you’ve grown a small animal on your face.” Laughing, he dodged Harry’s Stinging Jinx, stepping into the fireplace. “Ministry of Magic!”

Harry sighed, picking up his own Floo powder. Maybe I really should shave this moustache.

~

Harry got ribbed all day at work, so much so that he volunteered to go out on patrol in Knockturn Alley. At least no one will make fun of me here, he thought, slinking through the alley, keeping his eyes open for illicit activity.

It was purely a matter of chance that made him see a skulking, suspicious-looking cloaked figure slip into the doorway of one of the less reputable shops. Magical Fantasies was a shop the Ministry’d had under surveillance before, but somehow the place was always empty whenever they showed up on a raid. Harry was sure that whoever owned it had an inside informer in the Ministry. But that won’t work today. Time for an unscheduled visit, Harry decided.

The shop was dark, shrouded in shadows. Nervous, Harry sidled inside.

The mysterious figure he’d seen enter moments before had disappeared and the place looked deserted, but Harry could sense that he was being watched. It seemed odd that it was so empty, no merchandise lined the shelves, instead it looked like a deserted...lobby.

“Hello?” His voice echoed through the place. “Is anyone in here?”

As if in response, there was distant murmuring and Harry, drawing his wand, advanced slowly, carefully moving deeper into the building. After only a few steps he was in pitch darkness, not even the light through the filthy windows providing any visual assistance.

“Lumos.” Blinking, Harry realised he was in a hallway that was lined with doors. Swallowing hard, he reached out, grasping the doorknob and trying it.

The door opened easily and Harry peered inside, his mouth dropping open. “George? And oh my God, Fred--?”

Fred, who as far as Harry knew was dead, and George Weasley, naked, were entwined together on the bed and as Harry watched, gobsmacked, George casually sucked Fred’s cock into his mouth.

Fred arched closer, his fingers tangling in George’s hair as moans spilled from his lips. “God, Georgie--”

“Merlin,” Harry gasped. “What the--?”

Neither of them reacted to his presence, and after a moment, Harry, realising that for some reason, they couldn’t see or hear him, backed out of the room, closing the door. Leaning against the wall, he exhaled, then eyed the next door. What is this place? Was that even real?

Raising his wand, he cast some diagnostic spells, pursing his lips at the results. “As I thought, there are Disillusionment Charms all over this place,” he muttered. “Why would anyone do that in a simple shop, though?”

A muffled thump came from the next door, and, heart pounding, Harry tried the knob, breath hitching as it opened.

Peering around the door, Harry scanned the room, a bit relieved when it appeared empty. He was just about to turn away when someone who looked like Hermione, clad in the shortest skirt Harry had ever seen her in, entered the room from another entrance.

“I’m so sorry I’m so late, sir,” she breathed.

Harry’s eyes widened. Surely she wasn’t talking to him? And I thought she was back at Grimmauld studying for a test? “Er--”

“You have been a naughty girl, Ms Granger,” came a voice and Harry’s mouth dropped open. Appearing from...someplace, Remus came into view. “You do realise this means you must be punished?”

Hermione took a deep breath, with appeared to strain the bounds of her barely buttoned blouse. “Oh, sir. Must you?”

Starting to get uncomfortable, Harry nevertheless couldn’t look away.

“You know I must. After all, it’s for your own good.” Moving towards a chair that hadn’t been there a moment before, Remus sat, the bulge in his trousers quite obvious. “You know what to do.”

With obvious alacrity, Hermione draped herself over Remus’ legs, her arse up in the air, the barely-there skirt hardly covering anything. Remus spent a moment caressing her flesh. “Oh, you bad girl,” he cooed. “You’re not even wearing any knickers.”

“Oh no, sir.” Hermione wriggled her arse, spreading her legs. “I didn’t have time to put any on. Are you going to punish me for that, too?”

“Oh yes,” Remus growled, raising his hand. “Count them out.”

At the first slap of Remus’ hand on Hermione’s bare arse, Harry winced.

Hermione, however, clearly loved it. She gasped out the number of each slap, arching up to meet every one. After about fifteen smacks, her bottom was rosy red and Remus was panting. “Just five more,” he rasped. “Then I’ll give you what you really deserve.”

Harry swallowed hard. He had an idea of what came next and the thought was, to his shame, making him hard.

“Twenty,” Hermione cried out, body shaking.

Immediately, Remus lifted her up so that she was straddling him. Roughly tearing open her blouse, Remus sucked her nipple into his mouth as he skimmed his hands down her sides to her thighs. He pushed her legs wide, draping them over the low arms of the chair.

From his spot by the door, Harry could see everything. He could see Remus’ cock tenting his trousers, he could see Remus’ fingers moving inside Hermione, and when Remus took his prick out and positioned it at her entrance, he could see the look of pleasure on Hermione’s face.

“You really are naughty,” Remus said, the words a bit garbled since his mouth was full of Hermione’s nipple. “And you’re dripping wet.”

“Please, sir,” Hermione begged, shifting as if trying to pull him deeper. “Please.”

Remus drove deep and Hermione’s back arched in response. They moved together until, with a roar, Remus shuddered and came, Hermione shaking through her own orgasm.

Sighing, Remus raised his head, staring for a long moment into Hermione’s eyes. After a second, she faded as if she’d never been there. Remus groaned and, drawing his wand, cleaned himself up.

Withdrawing, Harry shut the door, leaning his forehead against the wood as he tried to will his own erection down. And knowing what Hermione looks like as she comes is a detail I could have done without.

“There you are. Took you long enough.”

Startled, Harry spun, wand out. A moment later he was disarmed, a figure looming over him. “You’re late.”

“What the--?”

“Shut up. Incarcerous.”

Harry found himself bound in rope, being levitated towards an open door. Inside, there was a huge bed on which he was deposited, face down.

“I should have known you’d be like this,” his captor said. “Even in a fantasy, you’re still an annoying brat.”

He was rolled onto his back and, for the first time, Harry got a good look at his attacker. His eyes widened.

Snape smirked down at him. “Still, you do look remarkably like him, even down to the ridiculous moustache he’s been sporting recently.” He nodded. “Impressive.”

With ropes over his mouth Harry couldn’t talk, but he could struggle, and so he did.

Snape shook his head. “Well, I suppose I did specify that I wanted you as close to reality as possible, so I shall have to deal with your more annoying traits, too.”

Suddenly, recalling the name of the place and all he’d seen, something clicked in Harry’s mind. Fuck! It’s a fantasy brothel! He’d heard of them, of course, but since they’d never actually caught one in operation, there was no protocol for dealing with them. Squirming, he tried to speak.

“At first I wondered if this was a bad idea,” Snape said, ignoring his struggles and beginning to undress. “But now I know it’s exactly what I need. Once I fuck you, I’ll be rid of you.”

Harry froze. Wait, what? Merlin, he doesn’t know I’m real. He thinks I’m a part of his fantasy!

When Snape was naked, he crawled onto the bed, running his hands over the ropes. “I hope this doesn’t degenerate into a fight,” he said, tone almost...thoughtful. “I wanted verisimilitude, I expect you to fight, but I also want a...willing partner.”

Snape sounded almost tender and something in Harry softened. There’s a reason we ended up in the same room together. He wanted me and I...I’ve always wanted him on some level. Catching Snape’s gaze, he nodded once. Slowly, deliberately.

Eyes narrowed, Snape said, “Finite Incantatem.”

Suddenly free, Harry stretched, but made no move to escape.

“You...consent?” Snape asked, tracing a finger over Harry’s cheek.

“Yes,” Harry breathed, licking his lips. “I do.”

“Good.” Snape’s mouth curved into a smile. “Undress.”

Harry did, sitting up, unbuttoning his robes and sliding out of them as quickly as possible. The thought of Snape fucking him made his erection, which had softened a bit when he’d been attacked, perk up.

Snape, who had moved to sit with his back braced against the bed’s headboard, smirked. “Slow down, Potter. I want to savour this.”

Surprised, Harry tried to take his time, but, feeling self-conscious, he still ended up naked in short order. Before he could get too nervous, however, Snape leaned forward, pulling him close.

Harry straddled him, gasping as their cocks lined up, sliding together. Seconds later he found himself on his back, Snape looming over him. “I thought I could do this slowly,” he said. “But I was wrong.”

Grinning up at him, Harry looped his arms around Snape’s neck. “Yeah, I didn’t want to wait either. Come on, Snape. Fuck me. Please.”

As if his words had flicked a switch, Snape became a madman, his hands and lips everywhere as he ruthlessly aroused Harry to a fever pitch. Arching up against Snape, Harry clung to him, writhing as explosive sensations spread through his body, setting his nerves on fire.

“On your hands and knees,” Snape whispered into Harry’s shoulder.

“Want to see you,” Harry gasped. “Please.”

Snape drew back, staring into his face for a moment. “So stubborn,” he said finally. “I should have predicted this. Very well.”

He then proceeded to spend ages preparing Harry, who shamelessly begged him to hurry up and who, eventually, slid his fingers in alongside Snape’s in his own hole to speed up the process. There was something so intimate about their lubricated fingers slipping together that Harry almost came then and there. “Fuck me,” he chanted. “Now. Please.”

Snape’s face looked strained, tense, and with a curt nod, he draped Harry’s legs over his shoulders before repeating the Lubricating Spell he’d used before. With his cock slick, he thrust into Harry, pausing to let Harry’s body adjust.

Harry felt every inch of Snape as he steadily shagged him, and once Snape shifted, nailing his prostate with every stroke, Harry was lost. “God! I’m going to--”

Jaw clenched, Snape nodded. “Come for me, Harry.”

Keening, Harry did, his nails digging into Snape’s arms as his body convulsed in pleasure and he bucked up, spurting his seed between them.

Snape lost his rhythm then, his movements growing ragged until, with a cry, he shuddered, shoving himself deep into Harry’s clenching hole.

He seemed to hang, suspended until, with a groan, he collapsed on top of Harry, panting in an attempt to catch his breath.

Minutes passed until, pleasantly sated and drowsy, Harry ran a hand down Snape’s sweaty back, letting it settle on his arse. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I suppose we should clean up now.”

Above him, Snape froze.

Suddenly worried, Harry asked, “What’s wrong?”

Raising his head, Snape stared down at him. “Once the fantasy scene is finished the...participant is left alone.” He moved off the bed so suddenly that Harry was taken by surprise. “Who are you?”

Harry sighed. “I think you know who I am, Severus.”

Snape, having located his wand, pointed it at Harry. “Impossible. And when did I give you permission to call me by my given name?”

“When you called me Harry and told me to come for you,” Harry shot back, sitting up on his elbows.

Snape’s mouth dropped open. “It is you. Dear Merlin...why?”

“Did I let you fuck me?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Because I wanted you. And now that I know you want me, too--”

“What shall you do?” Snape interrupted.

“Well, I thought I’d ask you out to dinner.” Harry smiled. “We sort of did do this in the wrong order, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make a go of it.”

“You’re actually serious?” Snape lowered his wand.

“Of course.” Harry looked around, spotting his clothes and wandlessly Summoning them. “My bigger problem is what to do about this place.”

“Why do anything?” Snape asked. “Who is it harming? The people who come here are searching for things irreparably lost or for something they think they have no chance of getting. Why take that away from them?”

Thoughtful, Harry nodded. It did explain the scene he’d witnessed with George, and as for Remus... He smiled. Maybe I should have a chat with Remus, tell him that Hermione and Ron aren’t together anymore and that she actually likes older men. “So, dinner?”

Snape, dressed, crossed his arms. “I will...consider it. On one condition.”

“Oh?” Harry moved closer. “And what’s that?”

“You shave that ridiculous...pornstache.”

Harry grinned. “Fine. I suppose all good relationships have compromises.”

~