|snarrymod (snarrymod) wrote in snarry_games,|
@ 2006-05-17 22:55:00
Original poster: snarrymod
Introducing elfwreck! Her idea to drabble the prompts for the Games, due to missing out on the Lottery draw, was snatched up by us, and we extended the challenge to all writers and alternates who were in the same boat.
We consider it a great way to spotlight them, as they will be automatically invited to the next Snarry Fic Games! We will be featuring them daily until the voting ends, and we hope you enjoy them!
WARNINGS: These drabbles contain character death, non-con, chan, insanity, slavery, NC17, implied mpreg & crackfic. I'm not listing which is which individually. Drabbles with no particular warnings (except crackfic) are Courage, Benediction, Deja Vu, Nightmares, Sacrifice, Proving His Independence, & Ancestry, so about half. I've been generous about the warnings--there are a couple of dubious consent that I've lumped in with noncon.
Contents: Sleep Deprivation (A),
Always Hungry (A),
Things Left Unsaid (A),
Déjà Vu (A),
Last Dance (R),
Test of Wills (R),
Seven Year Itch (A),
Proving His Independence (A),
Correspondence (A), Dollhouse (A).
Three days. Vision's spotty. He needs sleep.
"Back so soon?" Harry smirks.
Harry nods. Snape enters, strips, kneels. Feels oil on skin… relaxes into Harry's touch. The merciless WAKEWAKEWAKE fades… soothed by Harry's scar, Voldemort's residue.
He forces alertness; once he fell asleep *during*—Harry refused him for weeks. It doesn't take long. Snape almost enjoys it.
He sobs, knowing soon he'll not only enjoy, but crave this. Then he sleeps.
Snape smirks. "All right."
Harry crawls naked from his cage to the desk. He raises Snape's robes, uses hands, mouth, and oil to make Snape hard and slick. He prepares himself with one, two, three fingers. He turns away on his knees and elbows.
Snape waves his wand. "Creo alimentum." A platter of meats, bread and fruits appears. Harry rapidly stuffs pieces in his mouth, barely chewing, swallowing as fast as possible.
Snape mounts him. Harry eats. Snape thrusts, again and again. Harry eats. Snape shudders… spasms… falls over Harry's back.
The food disappears.
He roars: "You will not take him from me!"
He hunts: "Where can I buy the Starblaze 2000?"
He guards: "An interview? Absolutely not, Miss Skeeter."
He stands proud in public, arm around Harry's shoulders, as the Daily Prophet takes photos. It's the hardest thing he's ever done.
At night, in darkness, Harry writhes beneath him and hisses in Parseltongue, and it's all worthwhile. Snape plays lion to Harry's snake.
He kisses my wrist. My fingers involuntarily trace his chin. He smiles.
I can't bear this.
"Oh, get up, Potter." I reclaim my hand. "Really. On your knees behind a tavern in Knockturn Alley…" my voice trails off. I blush.
He grins. Runs his fingertips up my robes.
I feel an entirely different warmth.
They've talked about Dumbledore, a little; Harry's still not sure if he'd call it murder. Snape played every side, and everyone knew it; the ambiguities still leave Harry dizzy. Dumbledore, at least, was not unready.
When Harry captured Snape, Snape was naked in a river, scouring his skin until it bled. Harry pointed his wand at Snape's head while he knelt in abject submission.
"Kill me," he whispered. Harry still doesn't know why he didn't. He kissed him instead.
Two hours later, Harry found Hermione's body.
It's been three years. They don't talk about Hermione.
He pulls me to my knees…
I'm on my knees scrubbing cauldrons; he stands over me, scowling…
… on my knees, crawling through the Forbidden Forest, tired, bleeding. He steps out, draws his wand…
… facing Voldemort. He stands beside me, smirking…
… at Dumbledore's grave. He kneels beside me, squeezing my shoulder gently…
After Gryffindor loses 50 points one day, Harry sneaks into Snape's room at night, waits until he's asleep, and curls into bed beside him to fight the nightmares.
Snape twitches—Harry strokes his hair. Snape moans—Harry kisses him. Snape cries out—Harry slides fingertips down his side to stroke his cock, which slowly hardens under his loving touch. The moans deepen. The twitches soften. When Harry closes his mouth over the head, Snape cries out.
"Aaahh! Fifty points to Griffindor!"
Harry loves winning back his house points.
The children gather at the edge of the forest, peeping around the trees. Ethereal music sounds through the mist as the moon rises.
Two silvery forms appear. They waltz, slowing for kisses, as Professor Granger whispers.
"In the last battle, Severus Snape blocked a Killing Curse meant for Harry Potter. Harry killed Voldemort, but died trying to revive Severus. Nobody knew they'd been working together. On the full moon, they dance here, celebrating their love as they never could in life."
The children watch. The men dance on.
Severus sighed. "Only one partner gets pregnant. The Matrimutatis potion bonds two wizards or witches and makes them cross-fertile."
"Who gets pregnant?"
"Whoever is most… maternal… in temperament."
"You don't KNOW?!"
"Nobody does. We drink the potion, carry on as usual"—at this, Severus smirked. Harry blushed. "—And within six weeks, one of us acquires hermaphroditic traits for a year."
Their thoughts whirled…
Severus: I'm not remotely maternal. Harry's so protective and nurturing.
Harry: He's so moody, he practically lives in PMS.
Both: He's maternal. He'll be the pregnant one.
Harry set aside his distrust to rescue Snape. Snape set aside his fear to let Harry apparate them away. Harry surrendered his innocence (and his virginity) when he first kissed Snape. Snape surrendered his bitterness (and his solitude) when he moved in with Harry.
Harry slowly lost his self-righteousness. Snape slowly lost his anxiety.
They've both sacrificed so much.
"Seven years," yelled Snape. "Seven YEARS, you made my life MISERABLE!"
Harry just waited.
"I SHOULD KILL YOU NOW!" Snape raged. He drew his wand, and pointed it, shaking, at Harry's head.
Harry's eyes narrowed. He whispered, "...dare you."
Snape slowly lowered his wand. Grabbed Harry by the shoulders. Slammed him to the wall.
Kissed him, hard and fierce and wet, until Harry moaned. Snape pulled back.
"Seven years," he hissed, "and I intend to make you pay for every hour."
Harry gulped. And shuddered.
I steal his innocence, give delusions of independence.
He separates himself from his insipid friends through me, separates himself from me through public insults and arrogance.
"You don't have to call me sir, Professor."
Dangerous game, Harry. Might lose yourself entirely instead of finding a balance.
For now, though… suck my cock. Scrub my cauldrons.
I *own* you, boy.
He likes it when Harry kisses him, caresses him, strokes him to hardness. He loves Harry taking charge, turning him over, slicking him with oil. He loves the feel of Harry's fingers at his entrance, the sharp pleasure-pain-pleasure of that first thrust.
Snape sprawls face-down, writhing enthusiastically, legs spread wide, with a very energetic Harry buried bullocks-deep in his arse.
It's such a stupid thing. A stupid Muggle thing. And it makes no sense.
Harry thrusts; Snape quivers; Harry grunts; Snape moans… and then… always.. Harry screams out "Who's"… ohgod "your…" ohpleasenotagain … "Daddy!"
A single desperate shag after a great battle makes us neither lovers nor friends. Cease this futile correspondence.
I'm lonely. Please let me visit you.
You should spend less time pining and more living. Find some friends your own age.
I don't want friends my own age. I want you. Let me visit you just once. Please.
Absolutely not. It wouldn't be appropriate.
I swallowed the potion an hour ago. Please take care of Hedwig for me.
One's decorated as a house. It holds Hermione & Ron (wrapped with red ribbon), Bill & Fleur (ribboned), Neville, Remus, Minerva. Sometimes Harry.
The other's coffin-black, with Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Draco, Ginny. Sometimes Severus.
Sometimes he takes the Severus and Harry dolls, wraps them with red ribbon, and curls around them, keening.
When Severus visits St. Mungo's, Harry hides the dolls. Severus hugs him, kisses his forehead, promises him "someday."
Afterwards, Harry puts the Severus doll in the dollhouse and the Harry doll in the coffin, and ties the boxes together with red ribbon.