Title: Tabu Pairing: Snape/Harry Rating: NC-17 Summary: Harry unwittingly accepts a job in a sex shop. A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful betas and fact-checkers, and much love to the lovely reddwarfer. Merry Smutmas, m'dear! This fic is mostly DH-compliant, but there is unexplained ignoring of one inconvenient detail. Lots of people have come up with reasonable explanations, so feel free to pick one.
Harry was woken by an insistent tapping on the kitchen window, a floor beneath him. He lay in bed, waiting for Ron or Hermione to go and let the owl in, but Grimmauld Place was silent.
There was another tap. Still on the blissful bridge between sleep and wakefulness, Harry decided he was imagining it and rolled over.
There it was again.
With an irritable grumble, he climbed out of bed, pulled on his dressing gown and made his way downstairs to open the window.
The Prophet delivery owl gave a haughty hoot as she fluttered onto the windowsill.
"If you don't want to be kept waiting you shouldn't come so bloody early," Harry muttered.
The trouble with being unemployed was that eight o'clock in the morning seemed an obscene hour for it to demand his attention. The owl held out its leg with an air of impatience. Harry fumbled in his dressing gown for a tip and placed it in the bird's claws. The owl hooted once and then took off.
Still grumbling to himself about Ron and Hermione, who actually had jobs to get up for and still couldn't be bothered, Harry made a cup of coffee and slumped at the kitchen table.
Splashed across the front page was the headline New Lockhart Book Tops Bestseller List.
"People are a bit thick, aren't they?"
Harry looked up with a start to see Ron standing right behind him. Harry felt his irritation still simmering away; obviously they had been awake after all and still hadn't got up.
"Yeah," he agreed after a long pause. "Who on earth would buy that thing?"
"It's actually a very good book."
"Hermione!" Ron and Harry stared, scandalised, as Hermione made her way into the kitchen and touched her wand to the kettle.
"What? He's a good writer."
"Do you still fancy him?"
"Don't be silly, Ronald."
She gave Ron that sickly smile that had become all too familiar to Harry. Anticipating the horrific cuddling that was to follow, Harry ducked behind his paper.
Involved in a broom accident that wasn't your fault? Free consultations at Broom Klaims, 21 League Alley.
Harry flicked idly past pages of ads – really, there seemed to be more and more every day – ignored Rita Skeeter's column and eventually found the Jobs page.
Hippogriff Groom Wanted – no experience necessary, Healer training an advantage.
Live-in personal carer for 135 year-old warlock. Male Quidditch player aged under 25 preferred.
"What?" said Ron. Harry lowered his paper and instantly regretted it when he saw how flushed Hermione looked.
"Nothing," Harry mumbled, retreating back to the Jobs page.
Retail assistant required. Good hours, generous pay. Must be discreet. Owl 42 Amour Alley for an interview.
"What do you guys think of retail?" Harry called over the paper. No answer. Harry rolled his eyes. "Is it safe for me to look?"
"Of course." Hermione sounded flustered. Harry dared to peek around the edge of the page; she was fussing over the kettle while Ron leaned back against the counter with a vague smile on his face.
"So?" Harry prompted. "Retail?"
"Sounds good," said Hermione with far too much enthusiasm.
"Did you even hear what I said?"
But Ron was nuzzling her neck again. Shaking his head, Harry went to find his owl. An interview couldn't hurt, surely?
"You got a job interview?" Hermione beamed. "Where?"
"Some shop, I guess. The ad was for a retail assistant."
"And it didn't specify what the shop was?"
"Nope. So are you going to answer the question?"
"What was the name of the street again?"
Harry pulled the torn-out ad from his pocket. "Amour Alley. You know how to get there?"
Hermione frowned. "No idea. Hang on." She pulled her wand from her waistband and said, "Accio A-Z."
A battered book flew through the door and into her hands. She flicked through the index and turned to the page. A frown crept over her face.
"What is it?"
"Well…it's in London."
"Great! Walking distance?"
"Not really, you'll probably have to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron."
"Okay, best be off then –"
"Harry, wait. Are you sure about this?"
"What's the problem?"
"You don't know what this place is, do you? What if it's a trap?"
Harry sighed. "You're too paranoid. It's just a shop job, Hermione. And if it's near Diagon Alley then the Weasley shop will be right round the corner, so I can call George and Ron if there's a problem. What's there to worry about?"
"It's the street, Amour Alley. It's right off Knockturn."
"Oh." Harry took the A-Z from Hermione and looked at the map, hoping she'd turn out to be wrong (however unlikely that seemed). She wasn't, though. There was Knockturn Alley, and leading directly from it was Amour Alley.
Plastering a confident smile on his face, Harry handed back the book and shoved the ad back into his pocket. "It's fine," he said. "I've handled worse."
Hermione was biting her lower lip.
"Okay," Harry conceded. "First sign of trouble, I'll Apparate straight home. How's that?"
Hermione nodded, but there was still fear in her eyes. Harry reached for some Floo powder and wished, for the umpteenth time, that he'd taken his NEWTs and got a nice desk job at the Ministry.
Diagon Alley was bustling with early Christmas shoppers. Lavish window displays lined the street and mistletoe hung in midair. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes looked as packed as ever. It was during the school term, but there was no shortage of children below Hogwarts age dragging their bewildered-looking parents inside. Harry paused for a moment, tempted to skip the interview and spend a couple of hours sorting stock with Ron, but then shook himself. It was just an interview. If it turned out to be a ring of escaped Death Eaters, he'd just Disapparate out of there. What could go wrong?
Turning into Knockturn Alley was like walking through an invisible wall that light and sound could not penetrate. The hustle and bustle of shoppers faded to a background murmur and shadows crept in from all around. No one peddled their wares on Knockturn Alley; the shops were hidden behind grimy storefronts and guarded by beady-eyed proprietors sporting constant frowns of suspicion. Harry kept his head down and walked as quickly as he could.
Amour Alley was positively vibrant in comparison, albeit somewhat dingy. Floating signs advertised Witches Galore, complete with moving images. However, it was the middle of the afternoon, so the signs currently showed witches dozing or filing their nails. Not exactly titillating, even by Harry's standards.
Number 42 proved to be a nondescript establishment called Tabu. There were no clues on the outside as to what it was: the sign that swung above the door did not elaborate any further, and the windows were dark. His heart pounding, Harry tentatively pushed open the door and stepped inside.
It turned out to be a shop. One side was lined with shelves of potion bottles and the other with books. At the far end was a counter, where a young blonde witch sat reading a magazine, not even looking up as Harry entered. He made his way towards her slowly, pausing every now and then to take in the names of the potions.
It was indeed a curious place. There was a whole shelf of potions labelled things like 6ft blonde and perky brunette. Some even had names, Celestina Warbeck being one that Harry recognised.
Further along, a sign proclaimed that something called a Dreadful Dragon was half price.
Wondering if this was some sort of illegal animal trader, Harry timidly approached the counter. The witch looked up with a warm smile.
"Can I help you?" she asked brightly.
"Um, I'm here to see…er…" Harry wracked his brain for the name. Why hadn't he written it down?
She nodded and called, "Theo, someone here to see you." Then she turned back to Harry and said in a low voice, "Just a hint, hon, you'll need to be a bit less…uh, nervous to work here, know what I mean?"
Harry didn't, but he smiled and nodded. The curtain of beads behind her rustled and a portly man with a long, dark moustache appeared. When he saw Harry, he stopped and beamed.
"My word," he breathed. "My word, indeed."
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Hi," he began, "I'm here for –"
"Yes, yes, of course, right this way." The man called Theo grinned at the witch then beckoned for Harry to follow him into the back.
The back of the shop was a storeroom, lined with shelves of boxes labelled in an untidy scrawl. The labels were no more illuminating than the ones in the shop, mostly consisting of girls' names.
"Take a seat, my boy, there you go," said Theo. Harry looked around. He could see no seats and wondered if perhaps he was expected to conjure one as part of the interview process. But then Theo sat down on a crate in the middle of the room and Harry followed his lead, though he instantly regretted choosing one lower than his interviewer.
"Well then," said Theo, that beaming smile back in place. "This is very good indeed. Polyjuice, I assume?"
"The disguise, lad. And oh, my word, you have the scar and all. Quite remarkable!"
Harry squirmed, uncomfortable both with Theo's scrutiny and with the hard crate that was making his arse decidedly sore. "Actually, it's not a disguise," he said. "I'm Harry Potter."
Theo frowned. "You're quite sure?"
"Well, yeah, I think so," Harry replied a little tetchily.
"Then you won't mind taking this?" Theo reached for a red bottle and handed it to Harry.
"What is it?"
"Emoveo Dissimulo Potion. Counteracts Polyjuice Potion and any other disguises."
"But I haven't –"
"Nothing to worry about, then," Theo reassured him. "No side effects, so if you're clean it won't do anything at all." He grinned again, showing a lot of wonky teeth beneath his over-the-top moustache.
Harry took the potion and frowned at it. He could hear Hermione's voice in his head, warning him to get out of there, but Theo seemed genuine enough. Eccentric, certainly, but no Death Eater.
"Look, I'll drink some," said Theo, his voice laced with impatience. Harry smiled gratefully and handed the bottle back to him. Theo took a swig and passed the bottle back. Harry waited for a moment, but Theo seemed to suffer no ill effects. With a guilty shrug towards his inner Hermione, Harry gulped it down. It tasted oddly like pureed brussel sprouts. Struggling to resist the urge to retch, Harry gave Theo a weak smile.
"Marvellous!" Theo clapped his hands. "Oh, this is most fortuitous!"
"Indeed! Oh, you'll be a hit. I can just see the queues now, all the way down the street!"
"Um, okay," said Harry, thinking that job interviews really weren't as bad as everyone made out.
"When can you start?"
"Uh…tomorrow, if you like."
"Wonderful! I'll expect you at nine a.m. sharp. Candice will show you the ropes. She's the one you met just now."
"Wonderful to have met you, Mr Potter." Theo leaped to his feet and held out his hand. Rather bemused, Harry shook it.
"Is that it?" he asked as Theo turned towards the door. "I mean, you don't want to quiz me about my retail experience or anything?"
Theo grinned. "Ah, it's not Broom Charming. You'll pick it up fast enough, I'm sure."
"Thanks. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow then."
"Cheerio!" Theo gestured towards the beaded curtain, and Harry made his own way out. He smiled at the witch behind the counter – Candice – as he left, but she was busy with a customer, demonstrating something that looked like a short, thick wand.
"I got the job!"
Harry pretended not to notice that Ron and Hermione sprung apart the moment he entered the living room at Grimmauld Place.
"Fantastic!" said Hermione.
"You went for a job?" said Ron.
"Yeah, they took me on right there and then, isn't that cool?"
"So what are you selling?" Hermione asked.
"Not entirely sure," Harry replied, sinking into an armchair. "Potions and stuff."
"You need to catch me up," said Ron.
"Harry went for an interview at a shop near you," Hermione explained. "Oh isn't that wonderful, you'll be able to meet up for lunch!"
"Cool," said Ron. "Slug & Jiggers?"
"No, it's round the corner a bit," said Harry. "Tabu on Amour Alley."
Ron gaped at him for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. "Bloody brilliant," he said.
"What?" asked Harry and Hermione in unison.
"You're working in the only shop cooler than ours!"
Harry and Hermione exchanged puzzled looks.
"You do know what it is, right?" asked Ron.
"Actually, no," Harry admitted. "I mean, I saw that they sell potions and books but I wasn't there all that long and they never said –"
Ron howled with laughter. "Just wait 'til I tell George about this, he'll love it!"
"For God's sake, Ron, just tell me," said Harry.
"It's a sex shop," said Ron, wiping tears from his eyes.
Harry felt the colour drain from his face. It couldn't be. He was sure he would have noticed... Not that he'd ever been into a sex shop before, or even knew what they would sell, but...
"Well, there's no way I can take the job, then," he concluded.
"What do you mean?" said Ron. "Lighten up, mate. It'll be a right laugh! And in your breaks you can read all the magazines."
Harry gulped and looked at Hermione for support. She looked equally shocked, but then she said, "I agree. It could be a lot of fun."
"Hermione!" Harry cried, outraged.
"But people would see me in there.... How would I be able to look anyone in the eye? Oh Merlin, what if people we know go in there? What if I have to serve your dad?" he looked at Ron.
Ron, however, seemed lost in some distant fantasy. "Imagine being able to look at porn at work!" he said.
"Did you get a look at anything they sold?" Hermione asked.
"Um, not much. Potions and books, like I said. I guess those would be love potions or something then, right? Oh, and something called a Dangerous Dragon?"
"They have the Dreadful Dragon?" Hermione squealed. "Oh, those are amazing!"
"What are they?" Harry asked, sure he wouldn't want to hear the answer.
"There's this miniature dragon attached to the top, so it stimulates the clitoris at the same time as –"
"Whoa!" Harry held up his hands. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but it certainly wasn't something he wanted to hear from Hermione.
"Oh, come on," Hermione giggled. "You could do with lightening up a little."
"You need a girlfriend, mate," said Ron. Then hurriedly added, "One who isn't my sister."
"Or a boyfriend," Hermione supplied.
"This is our range of bondage equipment," Candice explained to him the following morning. "It's limited because there's a specialised supplier across the road, but we have the basics. Password-protected handcuffs, nipple clamps that can sense just how tight they need to be, auto-sizing cock rings, that kind of thing."
"Okay," said Harry, feeling completely out of his depth.
"The pornography range is fairly self-explanatory. Vanilla is on the bottom shelf, next one up is hardcore het, up from that we have gay and lesbian, then the top shelf has teens on the left, mature on the right and groups in the middle. Any questions?"
"Don't think so." Actually, Harry hadn't understood a word of that, but he couldn't bring himself to say so. He was marvelling at the way Candice – such a nice, normal-looking witch not much older than him – could talk about this in such a matter-of-fact way.
"Oh, I have to show you this," she added, her face breaking out into a grin. "This is amazing, everyone wants one at the moment." She picked up a slim, leather-bound book from the hardcore section. "Shows you whatever you want," she explained. "Whatever you're into. Straight, gay, trans, old, young, even one-legged blind acrobats. Just picks up on what you're thinking and shows a different picture on each page. Here, try it."
Harry took the book and opened it to a random page. It looked blank. He was about to hand it back and declare it broken when an image swam into focus. It was the Quidditch changing rooms, and there was Oliver Wood, stripping off his sweat-soaked kit.
Harry slammed the book closed. "Don't think it works," he mumbled.
Candice, though, wore a sly smile. "Course," she said.
Working at Tabu turned out not to be as scary as Harry had anticipated. Most customers knew exactly what they wanted and required little in the way of assistance, which made it quite easy. Occasionally he'd be asked a technical question, but Candice would jump in and explain things for him, though always making sure he could hear her. In that way, he picked things up rather quickly.
In a matter of weeks, he knew all about the different types of Vibrating Charms and was able to inform Hermione that while the Dreadful Dragon was the most popular vibe, the Raunchy Runespoor was by far the superior product. She was unconvinced, declaring a three-headed snake rather unnecessary, so Harry took one home for her. The following morning, she pounced on him as he left for work and gave him a crushing hug. Ron looked rather put out.
It was certainly an educational job. Harry learned things about female physiology that even made him admit to himself that he might prefer men after all. Coming out to Candice had been rather anticlimactic, though; she'd merely rolled her eyes and said, "Well, duh."
He learned about types of lubricant and the startling variety of anal toys, from Charmed butt plugs to beads that would move, twist and enlarge with just a whispered command.
The pornography was amazing, too. Harry had seen some of those types of magazines before, when they'd been passed around the Gryffindor common room, but he'd always been too shy to take a proper look. Candice was great fun, though, and whenever the shop was quiet she'd select a magazine to critique. To Harry's relief, she hated straight porn – "The women always look so bored," she would complain – so they usually stuck to the gay section.
"Why do they always have to spread their legs like that?" she said, grimacing at one page where a wizard lay on his back, legs up over his head. "I'm sorry, but your arsehole is not attractive."
Harry giggled. The wizard on the page stuck out his tongue, then sucked his finger and slipped it inside himself in one swift motion.
"Bloody hell," Harry gasped, blushing as he felt his cock begin to stir.
Candice rolled her eyes. "Men," she sighed. "You're such sluts."
"Uh huh." Harry wasn't paying attention. The wizard in the picture was looking right at him as his finger slid in and out.
"You want to go out back with that?" Candice laughed. "Have a little – fuck!"
Harry blinked, startled at the suggestion and about to say so when Candice suddenly pushed him down behind the counter.
"Hide," she hissed. Aloud, she said, "Good afternoon, sir. The usual?"
"Please," came the curt response.
"We got a new batch in just yesterday, set it aside for you myself." She ducked behind the counter and started fumbling around in the shelves underneath.
"Who is it?" Harry whispered.
"Shh, I'll explain when he's gone." Candice found what she was looking for – a bottle filled with a murky green liquid – and handed it over. "That'll be five Galleons, please."
She waited until the customer left, then pulled Harry to his feet. He brushed himself off irritably.
"Who was it?"
"Regular customer," said Candice. She looked flustered, most unlike her usual brash, uninhibited self.
"He always asks for you. Um. Your potion, I mean."
Harry looked blank. "My what?"
"Okay. Don't freak out, all right?"
Harry felt nervous. "Are you going to give me a reason to freak out?"
"No! Um. Maybe. You know all those potions over there?"
Harry looked in the direction she was pointing, but the shelf was something he didn't know about – it was the one full of potions labelled with names and descriptions of witches and wizards (though mostly the former).
"What are they?" Harry knew he wasn't going to want the answer to this one.
"Polyjuice. It's just a bit of fun."
"But you said...Wait. You don't sell specific people, do you?"
"Kinda. Sometimes. Celebrities and such. Lockhart's selling really well at the moment."
"Really?" Harry screwed up his face, then shook himself. "Don't change the subject. You've been selling Polyjuice for me?"
"Well, yeah, people know who you are and everyone wants to fuck the Boy Who –"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Harry yelled. "I can't believe – How long?"
"We've been selling you for ages," said Candice, as though that somehow made it better.
"How? Have you been stealing my hair when I'm not looking?"
"Oh, there's a whole market for these things." She gave a dismissive hand gesture. "You know, someone runs into you while you're out shopping, grabs a hair or two and sells it for a fortune. Lockhart's barber keeps the trimmings and makes a bomb."
Harry slumped against the wall, dumbstruck. "You mean everywhere I go, people are taking...That's too weird."
Candice shrugged. "Did it honestly never occur to you? Come on, I know you grew up with Muggles but isn't it obvious? We live in a world where anyone can look however they choose. That kind of stuff is bound to be subverted."
"I s'pose. But what do people use it for? They get off on looking like me or something?"
"Not exactly. They don't usually take it themselves, they…uh...Well, some people use it for blind dates, but it's mostly more of a recreational thing. They give it to their partners."
"What the –" Harry started pacing the length of the shop. "You mean people are having sex with me and I don't know about it?"
"Not with you. Just someone who looks like you. What's the big deal?"
"Is there a problem?" Theo's preposterous moustache appeared through the beaded curtain.
"Not at all," said Candice.
"Yes, there's a problem!" Harry bellowed. "You've been selling me for sex with strangers!"
Theo looked taken aback. He cast a questioning glance at Candice, who said, "Polyjuice."
"Ah." Theo's face relaxed into his customary grin. "Nothing to worry about, my boy. Flattering, really, don't you think? All these people who want to experience being with you."
"I don't feel especially flattered," Harry grumbled, though he inwardly admitted it was kind of cool. "It's a violation of my –"
"Oh, let's not start on who violated what," said Theo. "It's the sex industry, you can't take it too seriously. Anyway, everyone does it."
"They do not!" Harry blustered, though actually he supposed that was probably true.
"Why do you think I was so keen to hire you? Excellent for business, you are." Theo seemed to think this was a compliment, judging by the lascivious wink.
Harry shuddered. "At least you charge a lot for it," he mumbled.
Theo beamed. "That's the spirit." Then he winked again and disappeared back behind the curtain.
Candice was perched on the counter, holding a magazine up to her face. When Theo was gone, she lowered it and laughed aloud.
"It's not funny!"
"Oh come off it." Candice leaped down from the counter and swatted Harry's backside with the rolled-up magazine. "It's only sex. I thought you'd lightened up a bit."
Harry privately thought he was lighter than he had ever needed to be, but he said nothing.
From then on, he took special interest in which potions customers bought. Predictably, the six-foot blondes were popular with the men, though a few had more specific requests for younger or older or a particular hair or skin colour. The ones who wanted men were depressingly predictable, too; they all wanted muscle-bound, tanned beefcakes. Lockhart was popular among the middle-aged women, which came as no surprise; Harry just hoped he wouldn't have to serve Mrs Weasley. Celestina Warbeck seemed to be most in demand among the lesbians, which raised her considerably in Harry's estimation.
As for Harry himself, though, he was dismayed to find that he was sold primarily to giggling girls barely out of Hogwarts. The one exception was the customer Candice had served – indeed, referred to as a 'regular' – and about whom Harry was intensely curious.
"What does he look like?" Harry pushed her on more than one occasion.
"Nondescript, really. Middle-aged, mid-height, brown hair, brown eyes…"
"And you don't know his name?"
"I told you, no. You know how discreet we are here, we don't deal in names –"
"Not unless it's mine."
Candice rolled her eyes. "Merlin, you need to get laid. Go home and take yourself some nice gay porn."
Harry scowled at her, but he did take some porn as he left for the night.
"Hey Harry, can you watch the shop for a moment? I'm popping out for a haircut."
"Mind they don't steal your hair," Harry teased.
"Wish I were that in demand," said Candice with a wink. Then she left, leaving Harry alone for the first time.
It was a busy morning, and Harry found himself running back and forth dealing with customers and restocking shelves as quickly as he could.
The customers were more varied than Harry would have expected before he started working there. As well as the expected middle-aged man in long brown robes, hat pulled low over his face and shifty gait, there were other groups of clients. The couples would wander around the shop making dirty remarks about the products and giggling to each other. The younger wizards seemed in a constant state of panic and often pretended they had only accidentally stumbled into the shop (but then knew exactly where their preferred magazines were kept). The most surprising of all, to Harry, were the women. The older ones would either flirt outrageously with him or speak to him as though he were five and didn't know what any of this was. The younger ones, who often came in packs, were loud, forthright and downright intimidating.
Harry had just dispensed with the last in a long line of customers when another of the long-brown-robe types came in. Harry gave him a welcoming nod, then paused when a look of utter delight crossed the man's face.
"Oh, how remarkable!"
Harry froze. He recognised the voice instantly – it was the 'Regular.'
"Um, Polyjuice?" he offered.
The Regular was pacing around him, examining him as though he were a new racing broom.
"Hmm?" He didn't appear to have heard.
Feeling a rising sense of panic, Harry was relieved beyond measure when the door opened and Candice returned.
"Hey, I'm back – Oh." She stopped and looked momentarily panic-stricken.
"This is wonderful work," the Regular said in a conversational tone. "You must have improved on the recipe considerably."
"Um. Yeah." Candice's face relaxed. "Merry Christmas!"
The Regular smirked. "Remarkable, indeed. Why don't you come with me?"
"Uh –" Candice cut in. "Sorry, but we can't let you remove him from the shop."
"I'm sorry?" The Regular's voice was suddenly laced with danger.
"What I mean is, we have a room out the back for you. I hope that's okay?"
The smirk returned. Harry made panicked gestures in Candice's direction, but she had suddenly become preoccupied with arranging magazines. Before he could do anything, Harry was being led towards the back of the shop.
"No," Harry hissed in her direction. She turned and gave him an evil grin.
"Didn't I say you needed to get laid?" she whispered back. With a wink, she added, "Just enjoy it."
And then Harry had no choice but to allow himself to be led into the back, to a room he had never seen before. The walls were red, and the floor was covered in cushions and pillows of deep maroon satin. It was horrific.
Luckily the Regular seemed to agree. He flicked his wand and the plush surroundings dissolved to reveal stone walls and a large cauldron. Harry shuddered; this wasn't entirely to his taste either.
The Regular took a red potion from his pocket and took a swig. So he wanted to be Polyjuiced as well, Harry thought nervously. The man's features began to melt and reshape, and then Harry found himself looking at none other than Severus Snape. He winced. So this guy was into the whole teacher/student thing, was he? Harry put his hand over his wand, seriously considering Disapparating the hell out of there, but then the Regular – Snape – disrobed and Harry stood there, oddly transfixed.
It wasn't that Snape was attractive as such – he was scrawny and scarred, his nose was as crooked as Harry remembered, and his hair just as greasy. Yet there was something strangely mesmerising about seeing the uptight, very proper Snape naked. With an erection. Quite a sizeable one, at that.
Snape flicked his wand and Harry's clothes vanished. His own cock was half-hard, though he could almost feel it shrink under the intensity of Snape's gaze. He had never been naked with another man before – not in a sexual situation, anyway.
"On your knees," Snape barked.
Without thinking, Harry complied. His heart was racing, but he no longer felt the urge to run. His inhibitions were helped no end by the fact that this man didn't know he was the real Harry. And there was certainly no doubt that being with Snape was intriguing; he had been fascinated by the man ever since those memories he'd witnessed in the Pensieve. Not in this way exactly, but since this wasn't the real Snape it didn't really matter what he did.
He was brought violently back to the present when Snape took a step towards him and jabbed him in the cheek with his cock.
"Suck," Snape ordered.
Harry almost balked at that – he'd never had a cock in his mouth, and the thought seemed a little off-putting – but the head of Snape's cock pressed at his lips and he had no choice but to open his mouth and allow it to slide in.
Snape gasped and thrust gently a few times. It took Harry a while to figure out how to keep his lips wrapped around the flesh while keeping his teeth out of reach, but he soon got the hang of it. It wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected – it didn't really taste of anything, and it was fairly obvious what he was expected to do. He knew what felt good to him, after all, so he alternated between sucking, licking and just the occasional light scrape of his teeth. Snape seemed to approve, judging by the heavy breathing.
The appeal was soon lost, though, when Harry's knees began to ache and his jaw felt as though it were going to lock in place. To his immense relief, Snape cut things short by abruptly withdrawing from his mouth.
Harry sat back, looking up at the flustered image of his former Potions master. Snape mumbled something, but Harry couldn't make it out. Then he gestured towards the cauldron. Harry frowned, confused. Was he supposed to get in the cauldron?
"Stand over the cauldron," Snape gasped at last.
Harry grinned, leaped up and bent over the cauldron, wriggling his arse in what he hoped was a suggestive manner. He instantly regretted his boldness, however, when he felt Snape's hands grip his hips. He wasn't prepared for this at all. Would it be a good time to mention that he'd never been penetrated? Maybe explain that he'd rather be the one doing the penetrating? What was the etiquette with that whole thing, anyway?
Snape, however, didn't seem interested in etiquette. He Summoned a bottle and placed a cool, wet finger at his pucker. Harry braced himself for the inevitable pain, but was surprised when the finger slid in effortlessly. It slid in and out a few times, causing tingles to chase up Harry's spine and across his skin to the tips of his fingers. Then it withdrew. Harry bucked his hips, silently pleading for more. Two fingers were a little more difficult; Harry definitely felt stretched, though not uncomfortably so. It still tingled, though, and made him long for more.
The fingers pulled out, and Snape's other hand grasped at Harry's hair. "Beg me for it," he hissed.
Harry cringed. "Fuck me, please," he groaned, but he felt awkward and ridiculous saying it and could feel a blush creeping over his face and neck.
Snape seemed unperturbed, though; his breath hitched as Harry spoke and he pulled on Harry's hair. His other hand seemed to be fumbling with something. Harry quickly found out what, when a hard cock slid along his crack, just tracing his entrance. He screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip.
Snape guided the head of his cock into position and pressed gently. It pushed, but did not enter. He pushed a little harder, then again, then jabbed with short, sharp thrusts. Harry rested his head on his forearm, his head buzzing. Suddenly, Snape breached him ever so slightly and they both gasped. Harry threw his head back and fought the absurd urge to laugh – he was actually being fucked, and by Snape. Or a reasonable facsimile thereof, anyway.
From there it did hurt a little as Snape eased his way in, but Harry was beyond caring. This was brilliant. He could totally see what the fuss was about now – this was nothing like his uninspiring fumbles with Ginny. It felt good.
Snape started off slowly, rocking back and forth with only the slightest movement. It was incredible, to be able to feel a hard cock sliding inside him, to feel it brush over his prostate – and Merlin, that felt just as good as the magazines said.
Snape began to pick up the pace, thrusting harder and faster and digging his nails into Harry's hips. Resting his head back on his forearm, Harry reached down with his right hand and took his own cock in hand. He began tugging fiercely, but then his hand was swatted away and Snape took over. It occurred to Harry to protest – his experience with having girls do that had shown him that he could do it far better himself – but this was different. Snape gripped him with exactly the right strength, rubbed his thumb over exactly the right spot – it was almost as though he knew him, had done this before. Oh. He had. Harry chased that thought away and bucked his hips between the burning pleasure in his arse and the hand on his cock.
It was all too much. The burning sensation was taking over him; his hips bucked more erratically; an image came to him of Snape bending him over his desk. And then he came with a strangled, choking sound, spilling all over Snape's hand.
His mind went entirely blank, and he was only dimly aware that Snape continued to pound his arse a while longer. He felt the overwhelming urge to collapse to the ground, go to sleep and never wake up.
At last, though, Snape stilled, then withdrew. Harry felt something drip down his inner thigh and he gave Snape a maniacal grin. Snape sneered and lifted his hand to Harry's mouth.
"Lick it off."
It was covered in Harry's own come, he realised. He grimaced, but complied; his cock gave an involuntary twitch when he heard Snape's rasping breath as he watched.
"I'd've enjoyed Potions a helluva lot more if you'd done that before," Harry breathed when he was finished.
Snape raised one eyebrow. "I doubt the real Potter would agree."
"Huh?" Harry frowned. "Right. Yeah. I wouldn't know, of course."
"I am?" Harry blinked. "Um. You know the real Harry then?"
"Not in that manner of speaking, no." He looked sad, which Harry thought strange until he remembered that this guy bought Harry Potter Polyjuice on a regular basis.
"You ever thought of just asking the real one out?"
Snape's laugh came in a short, sharp bark. "He would not be receptive."
"Oh, I dunno. Why don't you try him?"
Snape gave a wry smirk but did not respond. With a single flick of his wand, he dressed them both and then returned the room to its previous gaudy state. He made to leave, but then stopped himself.
"I need to disguise myself before I leave," he said. "You may go, I'll pay on my way out."
Harry nodded and took a step towards the door, but then he froze.
"Um," he ventured. "Disguise yourself?"
"Obviously I do not go wandering through these parts in my true form."
"Because every witch and wizard in the country has been through Hogwarts. I've taught every one of them for the last sixteen years."
Harry blanched. "You don't mean…" He paused, unable to finish the sentence.
"I assume, of course, that confidentiality is included in the price –"
"Oh, yes, of course. It's just –" Harry stared for a moment, the dawning realisation that he really had just had sex with Snape causing his gut to clench. "Um, you have some of that Emoveo Dissimulo stuff?"
Snape nodded and handed him the bottle. Only then did Harry realise that was what he had taken at the start – removing his disguise, not adding one. He suddenly felt incredibly stupid. Nonetheless, he gulped down the potion and waited. Snape was looking at him intently, apparently curious to see whom he'd just fucked. When nothing happened, Snape's face fell.
"I didn't realise –" Harry began.
"Is this some trick?" Dark spots of colour appeared on Snape's cheeks.
"Not at all! Honestly, I've been working here nearly two months. Candice just hides me when you come in. Not that I knew it was you, it's just –" He stopped, realising he was babbling. "Um. I'm not sorry, if that helps."
Snape looked furious. For a moment, Harry thought he would run. In panic and with hitherto unknown daring, he grabbed the front of Snape's robes and kissed him hard.
At first, it seemed Snape wasn't going to respond. He was frozen to the spot, arms held rigidly at his sides. But then Harry felt a hand on his lower back, and then another in his hair, and Snape's lips parted beneath his.
Gradually, Snape took control of the kiss, holding Harry's head still and thrusting his tongue into Harry's mouth. Harry submitted willingly, clinging onto Snape's robes for dear life.
When at last Snape withdrew, they stood for a moment and looked at each other. Harry felt dumbstruck. His head was spinning and his lips felt decidedly sore. A hundred thoughts were chasing each other through his mind, but by far the loudest was, Wait 'til Ron hears what a damn good kisser Snape is…
They stood a little while longer in silence. Then, with a perfunctory nod, Snape drank his Polyjuice, spun on his heel and left.
Harry followed only moments later, but by the time he reached the counter, he saw only the Regular handing a (gratifyingly large) heap of galleons to Candice.
"Uh," Harry said, unsure how to address Snape in this guise. "I meant it, you know. About asking out the real Harry. You know, if you still want to."
Snape paused, stood perfectly still, then turned to face Harry. His gaze was heavy with scrutiny; it occurred to Harry that his mind was probably being read, so he cheekily conjured a mental image of himself handcuffed to a bed.
Snape looked away hurriedly, spots of colour darkening his cheeks. "I shall take that into consideration." And with that, he turned away and left the shop.
As soon as the door closed, Candice turned to Harry with a leering grin. "That good, eh?"
"Good for you. But don't take all his business away, will you?"
Harry looked around at the vast array of sex toys and laughed. "I'm sure I can find something to spend his money on."