|snarryswapmod (snarryswapmod) wrote in snarry_swap,|
@ 2007-01-15 08:01:00
|Entry tags:||creation: fic, rated: nc-17, yura_slash|
Happy Daft Day alliekatgal!
Prompt: I'd love to see Harry as an animagus who keeps feeling the need to mark Severus and/or his dungeons as his territory
Author's Note: I hope you like how this turned out. It ended up being quite a long’un :)
It started halfway through his seventh year. He kept getting the strangest... urges. When the urges came he couldn’t think about anything else, much less concentrate on his classwork. No matter what he did to try and prevent the... urges, sometimes they would just overtake him completely.
And he was failing Potions because of it. Unfortunately, it didn’t take Hermione long to catch on. It had hardly been a week before she confronted him about it.
He looked up from his Potions textbook. “What is it, Hermione?”
She looked around the common room—most everyone had left for dinner—and then sat down next to him on the couch in front of the fire. “What is wrong with you lately?” she asked, reaching for his Potions book and pulling it into her lap.
Harry reached for it back and she smacked his fingers.
“You haven’t been paying attentions in classes, and your work in Potions has plummeted,” she scolded, flipping through the pages of his book deftly. “If you want to do well on your NEWTs and become an Auror you’ll have to –”
“Hermione!” Harry interrupted crossly, making her jump. “Would you just give me back my book, then? I’m trying to study, and you’re not –”
“Here,” she sniffed, holding the book open to a page whose margins were full of Harry’s cramped writing. “I knew it! You’ve been trying to brew the Animagus Revealing Potion!”
Harry scowled and snatched his book back. “How do you figure?”
She puffed up importantly and began to count on her fingers. “One: Professor Snape’s been complaining about missing Hag’s tears, which is a very rare ingredient with few practical uses. Two: since when do you read your Potions textbook in your spare time and take notes in the margins? And three: your fingernails and earlobes have been looking a bit long, a side effect of taking multiple doses of the potion. Still haven’t found out what your animal is?”
Harry squinted his eyes at her. “No, but were there any other side effects to taking the potion that you can think of?”
“I’m not surprised that you’ve been having trouble. The potion is really just a catalyst for the transformation, and if you don’t already have some idea what your Animagus is then it doesn’t really help –”
“Hermione! Focus!” He knew he sounded desperate, but if she could help him get rid of these... urges he’d... he’d... put up with her study sessions for the rest of the year, damnit! “Were there any other side-effects to re-using the potion? I’ve taken about four doses in the last three days, and one seven days ago –”
Hermione shook her head. “No, the ingredients are fairly benign. The worst you’ll suffer are longer fingernails and droopy earlobes because the potion accelerates your cell division and allows for –”
“What’s wrong with me, then?” Harry moaned, snapping his Potions book closed and collapsing back on the couch. If Hermione didn’t know what was wrong with him, then he was done for.
“You’ve been slacking off Quidditch practice, that’s what’s wrong, mate,” Ron snapped, knocking Harry’s legs off the couch and dropping down on the cushion next to him.
Harry jerked up in surprise, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Ron! I’m sorry! I just –”
“Right, I know. You’ve got to work hard if you’re going to make up for doing poorly in classes lately. But this is the last time I’m covering for you! Just because your best mate’s the captain of the team doesn’t mean you can skip practice.”
Harry fiddled with his Potions textbook. “I know. And I’m sorry, but as I was just telling Hermione –”
“He’s been trying the Animagus Revealing Potion without us!” Hermione interjected, crossing her arms sternly.
Ron’s eyes widened comically. “There’s a potion to reveal your Animagus?”
“Right. Doesn’t always work, though, and Harry’s messed it up somehow. Something he’s not telling me has gone wrong.”
Harry’s cheeks pinked further. “It’s not... well, it’s just that it’s... it’s embarrassing!” he shouted, standing up abruptly.
“If you’d just tell me what side effects you’re suffering, maybe –”
“No!” Harry shouted, eyes wild and his body turning away...
“Now wait just one minute, Harry James Potter! There is no way you’re running off without telling me what’s wrong. I can help if you’d just –”
Harry gave Hermione one last terrified look before fleeing the common room.
The portrait-hole slammed shut behind him, and Hermione turned to her boyfriend with a scowl. “Why didn’t you stop him? I wanted to find out what was wrong! If I could help, maybe he’d start doing better in classes and make it to the practices. Then you wouldn’t have to –”
“Yeah, yeah, Hermione,” Ron grumbled, rubbing his shoulder wearily. “But I’m sore and tired. Let him deal with it alone for one more night, alright?”
Harry dashed out of the portrait-hole, scaring a bunch of second year girls.
“Excuse me!” he shouted, barely avoiding a particularly small girl with pigtails.
The girls all glared at him, and one of them opened her mouth to shout, but he was already around the corner. Just thinking about his problem had made him...
He skidded to a halt in front of the boy’s bathroom and hit the door hard. Almost... he threw his robes apart, unzipped his jeans and... heaved a huge sigh of relief as he emptied his bladder into the urinal closest to the door. Someone was occupying one of the stalls, but he couldn’t be bothered with being quiet. It just felt so good...
“Bloody hell,” he moaned, letting the stream loose. His mind was blissfully blank for a minute, and his stomach finally unwound. Maybe this time he could finish pissing and... but the stream sputtered to a stop before he could be completely relieved.
“Not again...” he muttered crossly. He shook his limp cock and willed the rest of his bladder to empty, but nothing happened. He cursed again as he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them up. “Fuck! What the bloody fuck is the matter with me?!” He hit the urinal and it flushed automatically. The sound of the toilet flushing in the stall behind him barely registered. “I can’t take a fucking piss anymore?! I – I can’t do this!”
The stall door swung open and a dark figure stalked out, robes billowing. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Foul language is not tolerated in this institution.”
Harry whirled around, face scarlet. “I – I... Professor!” he squeaked. His heart pounded in his chest as Snape sneered down at him.
“However, it sounds like you are suffering some sort of medical malady, no doubt at the hands of yourself or one of your bumbling Gryffindor friends. Regrettably, I am your teacher, and you my charge, and I would be remiss if I didn’t direct you to the medical wing. Wash your filthy hands and follow me.”
“It’s none of your bloody business what’s wrong with me!” Harry shouted, the injustice of it all making him see red. His cock pulsed in his pants, deciding at that moment to remind him that he hadn’t yet finished emptying his bladder. Just bloody perfect. “I won’t go to the medical wing—and wash your own fecking hands why don’t you, you filthy sod!”
His voice rang out in the empty room, echoing dully against the sea-green tiled walls. Harry blanched immediately after his outburst, but Snape didn’t say a word. The shocked white color of his face and the red spots that appeared high on his cheekbones didn’t bode well for Harry’s continuing health, however.
Not that his health hadn’t been failing anyways. But still! He was young yet, and there were so many things he had yet to do in life. Having sex was at the top of the list, followed closely by defeating an evil Dark Lord and then finishing school with decent grades.
Snape was glaring down at him, but he still hadn’t said anything. Oh fuck. Well, he might as well wash his hands... He inched around Snape’s foreboding figure and approached the sinks cautiously. Eyes as black as night followed him. He was just toweling off his hands when Snape turned towards the door.
“Now that your infantile outburst is over, follow me. And that’s ten more points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.”
Harry opened his mouth to protest, quickly decided that it would be better to say nothing, and snapped his mouth closed. Who knows, maybe Madame Pomfrey could help him with his problem. And maybe he wouldn’t be too embarrassed to tell her about it...
Snape decided to scare some sense into the boy. So Potter didn’t want to see Pomfrey with his problem? Then he’d be coming down to the dungeons and revealing everything to his most hated Professor. If little brats couldn’t take care of themselves, then they’d be treated like the brats they were, age be damned. Just because Potter was considered a man in the Wizarding world didn’t mean that he was a man in any other sense of the word.
And besides, the nerve of him! Shouting at a teacher and then suggesting that he was filthy! He had his own sanitizing potion and didn’t need to stoop to use the soap in public restrooms! He fumbled the vial out of his cloak and poured a drop into the palm of his left hand. The stupid boy didn’t think he’d risk contaminating one of his precious potions, did he?
He was aware of Potter’s eyes on him as he followed him down the stairs. The young man watched him curiously as he put away the vial, but a look of understanding dawned when Snape began to rub the potion into his hands. Snape braced himself for something stupid to fall from the plump lips Harry—erm, Potter—was biting fiercely, but nothing got past those... damn lips.
Well, at least the boy wasn’t completely daft.
When they continued down the stairs, past the medical wing and towards the dungeons, however, Potter opened his dratted mouth again.
“Where are we going? The hospital wing...”
“You didn’t want to go to the hospital wing,” Snape answered briskly.
Harry’s eyes widened. “But you can’t help me!” he squeaked. Snape didn’t think he’d ever seen the boy look so alarmed.
“As one of the most venerable Potions Masters in the British Isles, I believe I can. Now continue to follow me and kindly desist your whinging. ”
Potter gulped and continued to follow him down another flight of stairs.
This was bad. Oooooooh this was bad. If Snape brought him into his quarters...
His cock pulsed. Just being around Snape, and then smelling him as the air blew past—Gods, but it made his... condition so much worse. Harry already had to go to that classroom twice a week, but now his quarters?! Oh sweet Merlin, he was going to...
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Snape bit out.
Harry broke out of his reverie, only to find himself deep in the Slytherin dungeons. Thankfully, no Slytherins were around to titter at him. “S-sorry, sir,” he mumbled. Snape was holding open the door to his office, silently fuming at him (as usual), so Harry hurried inside.
The door slamming shut behind him—them his mind corrected—was surely meant to seal his fate.
The boy was acting oddly—not at all like his usual, cocksure self. He practically jumped out of his skin when Snape closed the door behind them. Maybe something really was wrong with the little blighter, in which case he probably should have taken him to Madame Pomfrey.
Going back on his threat now, however, would be weak and may give the boy ideas. He couldn’t have Harry thinking that he actually cared, after all.
He conjured an examination table in the middle of his office—sometimes it paid to furnish sparingly—and tried not to sound too gleeful when he ordered Potter to undress. Embarrassing the boy was so satisfying...
“Sit on the examination table and remove your shirt,” Snape ordered in clipped tones. He was pleased to see Harry obey without complaint, although his cheeks flushed fetchingly. It was no wonder all the girls at Hogwarts were swooning over him... but nevermind that.
“Here, Professor?” Potter asked, hopping up onto the table.
His plan to humiliate Potter was backfiring quickly. He felt his cock harden beneath his robes and he had to fight to maintain his composure. Damnit, he wasn’t a pedophile! He should be able to control himself around shirtless teens, especially Potter, who he hated with a passion! “Do you see any other examination tables in the room?” he mocked. “Now lie back.” He wasn’t a pervert. He just wasn’t. And he hated...
Harry lay back on the cold metal examination table, and his nipples hardened in response to the chill.
Snape’s cock twitched in his pants, and he licked his lips unconsciously. “And what were you whinging about earlier in the bathroom, Potter? Where is the pain centered?”
For a moment, Snape was sure that he wasn’t going to answer. He had that determined set to his jaw, the one that broadcast his more stubborn moods. Just as Snape was ready to sigh in exasperation and order Harry out of his rooms, he swallowed heavily. “Here,” Harry whispered, pressing his hand against his groin gently.
“Ah,” Snape answered noncommittally. He could hear his own heartbeat rushing in his ears. As Harry blushed and looked away, a silent war was waging within him. He didn’t like Potter – he never had! The boy was just attractive. Attractive and powerful and getting smarter every day... And Potter hated him; he must never forget that. “And when did the pain start? Have you subjected yourself to any potions or spells that may have –”
“It’s not pain. Not really...”
Snape’s eyes narrowed. If Potter had come to him with something as simple as embarrassing erections, then... then he’d teach the boy a lesson about wasting his valuable time and making a mockery of –
“It started about a week ago, I suppose. My bladder...”
Snape’s thoughts stopped mid-rant.
“It’s like I have to pee, but I can’t. I don’t know why – sometimes I want to pee so bad, but it’s not... not in a... a toilet. And... and I don’t know what to do! ”
Harry’s hands flew up to cover his face and Snape heard him choke back a frustrated sob. This was highly unusual, even for the Boy-Who-Lived, Snape mused, looking over the young man’s body for any signs of a curse or... his eyes flickered across Harry’s hands, then darted to his earlobes. The missing Hag’s tears!? He should have known that Potter had something to do with it. Only someone as powerful as he could break his wards, and here he’d thought he had been careless with setting them –
“Mr. Potter!” he snapped. Harry’s hands flew from his face and Snape was satisfied by the look of fear that flashed across his chiseled features.
Snape glared. “Your earlobes are looking a bit droopy, Potter, and your fingernails are longer than I remember seeing them this morning.”
The boy’s face reddened. “I – I –”
“The Animagus Revealing Potion, Potter? What makes you think that you can brew something so complex when you can hardly get through my class unscathed?”
“That’s not tr –!”
“When every potion you brew turns to slop before my very eyes? In fact –”
“You can’t –!”
“In fact,” Severus continued unerringly, “your potions work has been completely reprehensible as of late –”
“It’s because I can’t stop thinking about peeing on you, okay!?!?!” Harry screamed.
Snape stopped short.
Harry stared at him, his mouth gaping like a fish. “I – I didn’t mean that. You didn’t – you didn’t hear that –”
Snape recovered enough to sneer down at Harry, but his mind was going a mile a minute. Piss on him? Why would Harry feel the need to urinate... and on him no less? And what role did the Animagus Revealing Potion have in all of this? It was unlikely to be coincidence... perhaps Harry felt the need to urinate on him because of some baser animal instinct? If so...
Harry was a shade of red most often associated with beets by this time, but before Snape could tell the boy to put on his shirt and relax (he really did look in danger of heart attack), someone knocked on his office door.
“Professor? I had a question about today’s assignment. May I come in?”
Snape cursed (under his breath of course) and grabbed Harry by the shoulder. His skin was so smooth...
“That’s Mr. Malfoy, and, unless you want to explain this to him, I suggest you hide. Now!” he hissed, shoving the young man’s shirt in his hands and pushing him towards the nearest door out of his office. Just as the door to his bedroom closed behind Harry’s bare back, Snape had only a moment to regret his decision before Draco swung open his office door and entered—uninvited.
“Ah, Mr. Malfoy. As rude as ever, I see.”
“Oh come off it, Severus,” Draco answered crossly, letting the door slam shut behind him. “I’ve got bigger concerns than being polite. And what’s with the examination table?”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “And what concern of that is yours?”
Draco frowned and then flicked his wand, transfiguring the metal table into a plush sofa (green, of course). “None, I suppose. But I have to talk to you, so I hope you’re not busy at the moment,” he said, sitting down on the couch primly and then kicking off his boots.
Snape sighed—it looked like this was going to be a long meeting. He spared a quick glance at his bedroom door and then took a seat beside his godson on the transfigured couch. “What is the problem this time, Mr. Malfoy?” he asked. “Is your father denying you the pleasure of a new broom? Or are the First Years not displaying the proper amount of deference for a person of your remarkable standing?”
Draco frowned. “I’d like to think that I’ve gotten past such petty concerns, Severus.” He leaned forward, as if to whisper something in Snape’s ear, but Snape leaned back almost immediately.
“Have you not heard of Silencing Charms, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape asked crossly, whipping out his wand and setting one around them. “I assure you that there is no need to whisper in my ear.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Would you just listen, for Merlin’s sake? It’s really important!”
Snape nodded. “Fine. I will listen, but please cut short any theatrics. I have work to attend to this evening.”
He resisted the urge to look in the direction of his bedroom again. Hopefully, Harry would be able to keep silent in his room, and if he so much a breathed on anything... well, Snape would have his head.
Once the shock of being shoved into Snape’s bedroom had worn off, Harry dropped his shirt by the door absentmindedly and began to look around.
Snape’s room was much like he would have imagined it. More tidy than not, it was full of books and journals, some put away neatly on bookshelves and some strewn about the floor and bed. He leafed through a few of the open books and touched a few items that were on his nightstand: a quill, a bit of parchment, a small, bronze medallion engraved with a Latin phrase. There were no jars full of disgusting, floating things, but the bed hangings were a dark, forest green, and what other furnishings there were matched the Slytherin theme. After these cursory examinations, he sat on the edge of his Professor’s bed (for want of a better place to sit), determined to wait for Snape in as professional a manner as possible.
He found it practically impossible.
The feelings that he’d been suppressing for the last few days were boiling to the surface, ready to burst. The fact that his... no, not his. Just Severus! No, damnit! Professor Snape! Snape! The Snape that he’d always hated!
Eh-hem. The fact that Snape was in the other room (smelling like he did) with Malfoy... (smelling like he did)... well. It was intolerable. Harry couldn’t really explain it, but Malfoy smelled, practically reeked, of sex. The fact that Harry could somehow... smell... well, that—it didn’t make any sense. But he could also smell Snape, and there was something in the man. Something that was...
He was HIS damnit!!!!!!
Harry’s bladder sent another distress signal to his brain. He had to pee, and he had to pee now.
Harry had no thoughts for the Animagus Revealing Potion, but if he had... well, his situation may have made a bit more sense. What Harry failed to realize, but what Snape had started to see, was that Harry was indeed developing his Animagus transformation with the potion he had brewed.
Harry just hadn’t expected the side effects to be so profound. For surely, discovering one’s soul mate should be a romantic affair, not something marred by—
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!?”
Harry whirled around, cock in hand. This was so bad. “I’m sorry! I – I didn’t mean to –!”
“Didn’t mean to drop your trousers and attempt to urinate on my comforter?” Snape’s face was bright red, and his hair stood out a bit from his neck. Harry thought he could feel the raw magic in the room, and it was so strong that his cock started to harden in his hand. “Mr. Potter, do you even realize –”
Harry whimpered and staggered back, and his bare buttocks brushed Snape’s bed.
His magic flared again and Harry gasped. “What do you mean by this, Potter? Is this your idea of a joke?” he ground out between clenched teeth. He would move no closer to the boy, not while his trousers were still down, but he would not stand for such impudence...
“Call me Harry,” he whispered, and then he gripped his cock harder in his hand.
Snape realized too late what Harry was doing. Before he could move out of the way, a warm stream arched across the distance between them, and the smell of urine pervaded his senses.
It was ludicrous. It was degrading. It was... tolerable. Snape stepped forward into the stream, and only had a moment to relish the look of surprise on Harry’s face before he had claimed his lips in his own. Harry moaned into the kiss, and the stream of urine issuing onto Snape’s robes strengthened for a moment.
“Harry... Harry... Harry...” Snape whispered between each devouring kiss, and Harry surrendered to him fully.
It was perfect. It was heaven. It was... wet.
Harry finally stopped pissing, and Snape (should we call him Severus now?) finally broke the kiss. He reveled in the mortification that dawned on Harry’s face, and gave him a moment to panic before waving his hand and banishing their sodden robes.
“Professor, I don’t... I’m not sure I –”
“You wished to claim me for your own, did you not?”
Harry could only nod helplessly.
“Well, now I shall claim you for mine.”
Harry’s eyes widened, his skin broke out in goosebumps, and Severus laughed softly before pulling him into a warm embrace. Their naked flesh pressed together and Harry’s heart lifted unexpectedly.
“You are of age to consent. Do you consent to me? Will you surrender your body willingly to me? Will you let me... claim you as you have claimed me?”
The smell of his urine on them confused him, but comforted him at the same time. “But you... you hate me.”
“I do not hate you, Harry. Or perhaps, if I have, it’s because I hated what I could not have. You are beautiful, young, powerful, and brave. What am I? But your Animagus—most likely a dog or a wolf—has decided that I am yours, and you mine. Will you deny this animal instinct? Is there no basis for it in this human reality?”
Harry pushed away from Severus and looked up into his eyes. There was something there... “Yes.”
“Yes, I consent. Please, Professor –”
But he got no further. Severus pushed him back onto his mattress and fell on top of him, all lips and fingers and tongue...
“Call me Severus.”
Severus licked Harry’s cock one last time. It was full and red—almost angry—but it had been only five minutes and Severus was determined not to let Harry come until he had claimed him fully as his own. He retreated from Harry’s cock and dipped down between his legs.
Harry moaned in disappointment. “Severus, what are you doing ? Severus, I was so – OH!”
Severus groaned in longing as Harry’s body clenched around him, as his hips canted upwards and he cried out in pleasure. He let his tongue swirl around Harry’s entrance a few more times before pushing it inside, and to feel Harry’s body tense—to hear him scream his name and beg for more—it was more than he could bear for long.
Before he knew it, he was moving up Harry’s body again. He licked each of his nipples eagerly as he passed, but then he pulled Harry into another soul-devouring kiss. One meant to leave him light-headed and unaware of...
“Oh! That’s – that’s cold!” Harry broke away from the kiss to protest. Severus just shook his head and claimed his lips again, and Harry moaned as Severus worked first one, then two potion-coated fingers inside of him.
“That’s... ah! That’s... that’s tight...” Harry panted between kisses.
But then Severus touched something inside him, and all protests were forgotten.
“Put your legs here,” Severus directed softly.
Harry looked up at him with wide green eyes, as solemn as he could ever be, and consented without a sound. Severus sighed in contentment as Harry’s legs rested up against his shoulders.
“I will... I will prepare myself now. Are you sure...?”
Harry looked up at him just as solemn as before. Severus was afraid... but then he smiled. “Yes, I’m sure. I want this Pr – Severus. Please, before I...”
Severus nodded his understanding and, loathe to break eye contact at a time like this, looked down into Harry’s perfect eyes as he spread the lubricating potion on his straining cock. “I’m going to enter you now,” he whispered, then gasped as the head of his cock slipped past the ring of muscles that he had stretched so meticulously.
Harry grunted and Severus groaned, and before long he was all the way inside him, marveling at the feel of him, wishing for an eternity inside of him, ready to go to Hell and back for him if need be.
Harry looked up into Severus’ eyes as he spread the lube on his cock. This was it... he was about to...
“I’m going to enter you now,” Severus whispered softly, and Harry barely had time to brace himself before...
It was heaven. Severus was inside him and he never wanted him to leave. Why hadn’t he known this feeling earlier? Why hadn’t he discovered it sooner? Would he have the time to cherish it? Or would his life...
A flash of light, golden and almost blinding, overcame them then, and before they could comprehend what it was, they were only aware of each other, and of the warmth of their bodies, and suddenly they were moving against and inside of each other, and everything was perfect down to the moment they both came, and another flash of golden light blinded them both.
When they awoke, weary and sticky from their exertions, only a minute had passed.
But inside of it had been an eternity.
They gripped each other’s arms, marveling at the marks that they found there, and then they looked up into each other’s eyes.
“It was meant to be,” Severus uttered, scarcely believing his eyes.
“The prophesy? I was sure that –”
“Not the prophesy,” Severus interrupted curtly. Harry looked hurt for a moment, but then Severus’ expression softened and he pulled the young man close to him again. “We were meant to be, Harry. And maybe together, we can do things that no man has been able to do alone.”
They spent the night together. Only one inhabitant of Hogwarts knew of their whereabouts, but he was not likely to interfere. After all, he had always known that the power to defeat Voldemort would be love, and he had had a strong suspicion that Severus would be necessary for the Prophesy to be fulfilled.
And Dumbledore was a smart man. He would not stand in the way of something that he had been awaiting for decades now...