sh_mods (sh_mods) wrote in slash_heaven, @ 2006-06-27 15:54:00 |
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Original poster: rakina
Title: How Severus Deals With Dangerous Pranks
Author: Rakina
Summary: Harry was caught hiding a Slippery Snake under his robes. Severus knows just how to deal with that.
Rating: NC17
Pairings: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Genre: Humour, Romance. Complete, 5951 words.
Warnings: Chan - Harry is still at school. Misuse of a patented Muggle detection instrument.
Author Notes: Sequel to Quite A Slippery Snake, which was written for cassandramalfoy's birthday. So I dedicate this sequel to her, and also to ravenclawwit, cos it’s her birthday too! Happy Birthday, you reprobates! Alas, to catch these important occasions, I failed to get this betaed. Please ignore any glaring errors, until Hel can use her red quill.
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story.
How Severus Deals With Dangerous Pranks
by Rakina
Harry went into Snape’s office, as he’d been told to. His bags and equipment were still by his workbench and he heard Snape dismissing the rest of the class. He’d have to collect his stuff later. After Snape had dealt with him.
Harry’s stomach was fluttering with nerves. For any other misdemeanour, he knew the sort of punishment Snape would deal out. But this… this was different.
Harry had never been so embarrassed in his life. The moment when Snape made him stand up and he knew, he just knew, the man was going to notice the bulge under his uniform robes. Snape had twitched the robes aside and stared. Oh Merlin, how he’d stared. At that moment Harry would have accepted any number of detentions without complaint, lost any amount of points, accepted the destruction of his cauldron and all his supplies, if only – if only – Snape had not done what he had in fact done next.
The memory of the moment Snape’s hand slipped into his trousers, because he was convinced Harry was hiding the latest Weasley prank – a Slippery Snake – was ensuring that Harry’s face remained as red as when it had happened. Snape was paranoid about the possibility of people disrupting his Potions classes, and doggedly determined that nobody would get the chance. Harry had begged him to let it go, not to pursue it, it wasn’t true. But Snape, always as flexible as any pissed-off mule, hadn’t listened.
Snape’s detentions were rarely fair. As far as Harry was concerned, he earned them just by entering Potions class and breathing. So it was not really a surprise that this one wasn’t fair either. There was no Slippery Snake, there had never been a Slippery Snake and Harry had no intention of there ever being a Slippery Snake, or any other Weasley Wheeze; he had enough problems without trying something so stupid. However, there was something in Harry’s trousers, something he’d hoped to keep a shameful secret.
It wasn’t bad enough that he was having fantasies about a male. Not even bad enough that the male in question was older than him, old enough to be his father, in fact. Dammit, the man was from the same class as his father! What was so completely shameful about the situation was that it was Snape - the notorious Greasy Git; Head of the most-hateful Slytherin House; arch-enemy of his father, his godfather, his admired friend and ex-professor Remus Lupin; and unfair persecutor of Harry, his friends, and of all members of his House for that matter. His friends would just curl up and die. Nobody would be able to understand him, for Harry didn’t understand it himself.
Harry was sick of being different, and this perverse revelation of his sexual nature wasn’t helping at all. As hard as he’d tried to ignore the yearnings – the inexplicable attraction, the overwhelming wish that one day Snape would touch him – the less the awkwardness went away. Harry’s body reacted to the powerful wizard’s approach, every time.
Snape entered the office, shutting the connecting classroom door behind him. He gestured at the door with his wand, muttering some ward or other, Harry assumed. Harry was too busy trying to quell his nervousness, or his erection, or preferably both, to notice properly. He failed to quell either.
Severus turned to look at Potter. The bane of his life, in more ways than one.
Potter – the Golden Boy, almost the Divine Child, who could do no wrong in Dumbledore’s eyes. And just what had this boy ever done to deserve such consideration? Oh, that was it, Severus realised, it was because he was James Potter’s son. Never mind that Severus was risking his very life working for the headmaster, gathering vital clues for the Order of the Phoenix. Next to Potter, his contribution was almost disregarded. For what could be as important as The Chosen One. Snape snorted.
Harry ‘Chosen One’ Potter, who in truth was never out of Snape’s thoughts. At some level, the boy was always inside his mind. His skill at Occlumency kept many of those thoughts concealed from others, but they were still there, niggling away at Severus. And since the moment he’d slipped his hand into Harry’s trousers, he knew Potter’s presence in his mind was going to be even more insistent. Damn the boy!
Severus was as annoyed with himself as he was with Potter. He prided himself on his observation skills. Those skills, which were valuable to others as well, this time had let him down. His mental ‘prank detector’ had gone off half-cocked. Severus shook his head – what a bad metaphor.
Severus looked at Harry now. The boy was standing, cowed and sheepish, his face still flushed. The sight annoyed Severus. It was like a reminder, an accusation of how unfair he’d been, how bloody foolish he’d been, to accost the boy on a mere whim. Severus knew Harry had tried to warn him, and he hadn’t listened. The knowledge only made him angrier. He powered up his death glare ready to speak to the youth.
“Perhaps you would explain yourself, Potter.”
Potter’s ever-imaginitive use of English provided its usual useless reply: “Umm…”
“Given the track record of your class, I’m sure you can appreciate that I am always on the lookout for concealed items. What did you mean by your behaviour?”
Harry was bewildered. What the fuck did Snape want him to say? I’ve got a hard-on because you’re sexy, sir. Every time you come near me I get a stiffy? He settled for, "I've done nothing wrong. Sir." Really, he shouldn’t be in detention, if that was what this was. Snape hadn’t actually said it was a detention, he’d just sent Harry into his office.
“Your trousers were suspicious, you foolish boy! Did you think I would ignore that? It would be just like you – a Potter – to make use of a Slippery Snake in my classroom. Hoping to reveal the Greasy Git’s underwear to the masses, were you? Like father, like son?”
“Of course not! I’d never do anything like that.”
“Hmm,” Snape sounded doubtful. “You would never break the rules, is that it? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. Did you think your trousers would be a no-go area, somewhere you could hide your pranks where the nasty Potions master wouldn’t be able to find them?”
“You’re forgetting, sir,” Harry rejoined, feeling most aggrieved at the unfairness of all this and the inevitable Snapish comparison with his father, “that there was no prank. You shoved your hand into my trousers and embarrassed me, for nothing. I told you it was nothing.”
Severus’ eyes narrowed. The wretched boy had a point. There had been no prank. What was in Harry’s trousers could not be a prank. It was probably not even intentional. Lots of teenage boys got erections at inappropriate times, though Snape didn’t think anyone’s body had managed to be quite foolish enough or inappropriate enough to do that in the Potions room before. His effect on most young men was enough to subdue them.
Potter had lost his embarrassed flush and his green eyes were glittering with anger now. Severus thought he had probably managed to quell even Potter’s inappropriate sexual tension. He dropped his eyes to the boy’s trousers to confirm it, a smirk ready on his lips.
His lips had to reform their expression. Potter’s trousers were just as tented as before. To cover his awkwardness and the suspicion that he was looking quite taken aback, Severus attacked.
“You are as. Guilty. As. Sin." He repeated the phrase he’d used in class because it made him feel good. Potter was at fault, and he intended to show him that none of this was Snape’s problem. If the boy was hard, Snape certainly wasn’t to blame. No, indeed; Potter was indubitably guilty.
Harry had hoped Snape would shout at him – which he had – and then send him on his way. Maybe send him to scrub a few cauldrons, or chop some more goat’s liver. He really didn’t want Snape noticing his problem. And so, of course, that’s exactly what Snape had done.
“Can I go? Sir?” Desperate times called for desperate measures, and maybe Snape was just flummoxed enough to let him.
Snape frowned down at the tented material, then raised his eyes back to the insolent boy’s face. Go? Nobody, not even the Chosen One, got to leave Snape’s office before being thoroughly dressed down. Oh, the metaphors were just lining up to torment him, each seemingly as ill-chosen as the last.
“You are here because your behaviour was suspicious. Just because what you have in there -” Snape pointed at the offending bulge, “was not purchased in a joke shop, does not mean I should fail to perform my duty. I have an obligation to ensure the safety of my class, and you may yet be concealing items of a disruptive nature about your person. It is just what I would expect from you, Potter.”
A parade of delightfully wicked thoughts was passing through Snape’s mind. Potter was different, he had to be… he was the Chosen One, Dumbledore’s little rule-breaker who could do no wrong. Well, maybe Severus could ignore the rules too, for once. Perhaps if he was a bit imaginative he could devise a punishment that Potter wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Severus’ sexual metaphors might have come into his mind deliberately, to show him how to deal with the insolent youth. Yes, that must be it…
“Far from embarrassing me, Potter, your prank has served to embarrass yourself. Or it will do very soon, never fear.”
“I keep telling you, there is no prank!” Harry was getting more desperate now. Surely he should have been dismissed, or sent off to do a mucky job, or something. What was Snape keeping on about? Well, he knew what the man suspected, that Harry had planned to embarrass him in the same way the Marauders had, by showing everyone his underwear. Or lack of it, a sneaky voice interrupted. No – don’t think of Snape without underwear! That wouldn’t help his persistent problem at all.
“As I mentioned earlier, Potter, forgive me if I’m less-than-trusting of your motives. You have given me little encouragement to believe that you follow the rules. I know you’re up to something, and I will reveal it.”
Severus waved his wand at his desk. Its covering of parchments, ink-bottles, quills and books floated off and stacked themselves neatly on the floor by the fireplace. The shiny, polished oak seemed to grin at him, at least to Harry’s mind it did.
“I will investigate this problem, closely,” Snape said. “Take your robes off, Potter.”
Harry knew he’d be searched. Snape seemed convinced he was hiding something. And he was. It was just not what he wanted Snape to see. But you’d love him to look, Harry whispered that subtle voice in his head.
Snape had already felt it in class; Harry really didn’t want him seeing it, too. He really didn’t, he insisted to the snakelike whisper that was plaguing him, as he slipped his robe off his shoulders and draped it over a nearby chair. There, that was done. Snape could see he wasn’t hiding anything. Well, anything except an annoyingly stubborn erection that seemed to be sustained by the vibrations of Snape’s sexy voice. And the insistent part of his mind that wanted Snape to see him… that insisted that Snape wanted even more than that.
Snape was watching Harry’s actions with intensity. Now he walked around the young man, back and front, as if sizing him up for market. “No, no, no. this won’t do,” he muttered.
Harry wondered if he was too short, or too thin, or – likelier still – too messy, to earn Snape’s approval.
“There is still too much opportunity for you to smuggle dubious items into my class. There are numerous Zonko’s products, and probably a few of the Weasleys’ excrescences, that are easily concealed under this sort of stuff.” Snape tweaked at Harry’s overlarge jumper. “Off with it, now!”
Harry’s legs felt distinctly wobbly. The wretched man was going to prolong the torture, no doubt to create maximum humiliation for James Potter’s son. Of course he was.
Harry pulled his pullover up and off, casting it aside. If Snape wanted to prolong this, Harry was not going to help him. You like him asking you to take them off, the traitor in his mind assured him.
“You are trying to annoy me; I know you are, Potter. Take the shirt off. It’s voluminous enough to be made into a World Cup tent. Half the stock of Weasleys’ emporium could be in there!”
Harry made a point of sighing loudly enough to register his disapproval. Snape was too tense to risk cheeking him, but this was getting silly now. He started undoing his shirt buttons, beginning with the cuffs. Snape watched him, his expression hawk-like. Predatory, the helpful voice added.
Snape was determined to watch him, Harry knew, and though he paused after undoing his cuffs, he knew Snape would insist he remove his shirt. He continued undoing his buttons, fingers at his neck. It was only his shirt anyway, it would be okay. Bare chests were okay for boys; it meant nothing. It means everything.
“Are you hungry, Potter?” Snape drawled, his voice sounding bored. He’d deliberately aimed for bored. It wouldn’t do to let the boy know how exciting he found it watching the slim fingers slipping all those buttons open.
“Errr…” as ever, Potter sounded clueless.
“Because at this rate, it is highly unlikely we will make it to the Great Hall before the Halloween Feast. Unless, of course, you deign to get a move on!”
Harry frowned and huffed, but complied. Snape might have a point, actually. He had been delaying as long as he could. The thought of those dark eyes on his naked flesh, even if it was just his chest, was scary. Snape had never had reason to see Harry unclothed before. Harry quickly finished the buttons and let his hands drop to his sides. He couldn’t – he just couldn’t – open his shirt.
Snape raised one long, pale hand. Harry flinched as the hand pushed the front of his shirt apart. “Off.”
Harry hesitated. Snape wanted the shirt off. You want the shirt off. But he couldn’t, he just couldn’t move. The old saying about mice freezing in the presence of snakes would cover it, because Harry was frozen.
Snape made a noise like a little growl, and tugged the material off Harry’s torso, pushing the white cotton down so that Harry could slip it off. Harry turned and draped his shirt over the chair next to his robes and jumper.
When he turned back to face his teacher, Snape’s eyes roved all over Harry’s chest. Harry felt like a bug under a microscope and wondered what his teacher was looking for. There was nothing there, no pranks, nowhere to conceal any.
“See, I haven’t got anything,” he said, anxious to vindicate himself and end this scrutiny.
Snape walked around him again, presumably paying as much attention to the skin of his back. Harry almost felt his skin tingle where the man was looking, so aware was he of the inspection.
“It appears your top half is blameless, Potter,” Snape said as he returned to the front and looked Harry in the eye. “That merely means that 50% of you is innocent, however. As to the other half… well, we shall see. Get up on the desk.”
Harry stared at the desk, empty of anything at present. Get on it? What on earth for?
“Up!” Snape yelled, loudly enough to make Harry jump. Harry scrambled up onto the polished surface. “Shoes off, Potter!” Snape snapped, and Harry supposed he had a point, the desk was incredibly shiny and antique-looking. He quickly pulled off the shoes and dropped them to the office floor. His socks weren’t a problem, surely. No, but your trousers are. Whatever it was, that wretched voice was no help, none at all.
Severus raised an eyebrow. It was an eloquent gesture that rarely failed to intimidate the brats. Potter noticed and looked cowed, and Severus felt a lovely warm, internal glow. “I sent you in here, Potter, to ensure this incident was properly investigated. It is my duty as a teacher, naturally concerned with the safety and proper management of my classes, to make sure you are as harmless as you claim. I would be neglecting my duty if I failed to finish this.”
Harry wondered who Snape was trying to convince.
“And so, I feel you must – you really must – remove your trousers.”
Harry swallowed. He’d somehow known this was coming. He’d been sure of its dreadful inevitability from the moment Snape had pointed at his office and sent Harry in that direction. But even knowing it was coming hadn’t made it any less overwhelming.
“I really must insist…” Snape’s voice was low; he was using that quiet and dangerous tone again. Harry knew that further resistance or delay was a perilous path to take. His hands dropped to his trouser button.
Snape raised his other eyebrow. Harry slipped the button open. His face was flaming again and he briefly wondered if anybody’s head had ever caught fire from blushing too much. He grasped his zip.
“Perhaps you need a little help,” Snape said, drawing closer.
Oh no, he didn’t need help; that would mean Snape would touch him. You want him to touch you.
Harry quickly tugged the zip down, determined to prove that inner voice a liar. As Snape had stilled, Harry tried to convince him of his cooperation as he fumbled with the legs of his trousers and drew them down. When they were pooled around the lower part of his legs, Harry sat up straight and raised his eyes to his tormentor.
“Hmm,” Snape mused. “There is still some possibility of concealment. Take them right off and I will examine them along with your other garments.”
Harry took the trousers off, over his socked feet. Snape was determined to make this humiliating. Well, he should have expected it. He held out the trousers and Snape took them over to the chair with his other clothes. Harry sat on the desk in his socks and underpants, feeling slightly chilled as his body registered the air on his exposed skin.
Snape ignored him as he dealt with Harry’s clothes one by one. First, he shook them about a bit, then dropped them on the floor in front of him. He pointed his wand at Harry’s robe. “Trado,” he said, and a grey light shot out of his wand. On contact with the clothing it spread out and wandered over the fabric, into every crease and seam, before vanishing. Snape repeated the process with each item of clothing.
“Hmm. It seems your clothes are clear,” he admitted, obviously grudgingly.
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Harry repeated, determined that the man should acknowledge that. There was no reason for Snape to keep him here, by rights he should be with his friends, doing his homework or playing games in the common room. Not sitting here on this hard, shiny tabletop with just his underwear to protect him from (Snape) the elements.
“Or clear so far,” Snape groused. “Take off your socks and pants.”
“No, I won’t,” Harry answered. “There’s nothing in there.”
“I seriously doubt there is nothing in them. If you were truly innocent, you would not object. It seems you have something to hide after all.”
Oh, Harry did. And Snape knew he did. And Snape also knew exactly what it was that Harry was hiding. “No.”
“If you do not do so willingly, I shall have no option but to compel you,” Snape said menacingly.
Harry didn’t doubt that the man would do it, if he resisted him much longer. And it wouldn’t hurt to take his socks off...
Snape took the socks and repeated his paranoid searching spell, before turning back and looking expectantly at Harry. His gaze never wavered; his eyebrow rose. Harry looked down at his lap; his tented underpants would have to come off. Snape would make up for feeling humiliated in the classroom – by being wrong about his victim. He would humiliate Harry.
Harry slipped his thumbs under his waistband; he pulled the elastic taut and carefully lowered the underwear, avoiding snagging his insistent erection. He daren’t look up at Snape, but he had no doubt the man was staring at him with that predatory look, watching his every move. He slipped the pants down, his cock bobbing free. It looked so red, so bloody obvious somehow, and Harry wished he was just about anywhere else but here. Except that’s not true, you want Snape to look at you.
The scariest thing happened: Snape hissed. As Harry lowered his pants, the man hissed like a snake. Harry, who had been determined not to look at him, glanced up in alarm, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
Snape’s predatory look had turned hungry. He looked as if he might lose control and leap on Harry, perhaps rend him limb from limb. Harry stilled, and waited.
For long seconds nothing happened. Snape was obviously having some kind of internal battle, his fists were clenched by his side and his jaw was obviously just as tense. A vein throbbed in his temple. And still Harry waited for what he thought was the inevitable explosion. Was Harry’s behaviour in the man’s class so dreadful, then? He couldn’t help his body’s reaction around Snape. He looked down. Despite his discomfort at being stared at like this, his cock was still standing up as jauntily as ever, revelling in the attention. Sometimes, Harry hated being a boy.
Snape suddenly stepped forward and grabbed the underpants off the bottom of Harry’s legs, pulling them away and whirling to perform his odd detection routine again. Harry exhaled in relief, the moment of tension had passed. This would soon be over and it would just be a bad memory. An incredibly arousing memory.
Snape whirled back to face Harry. “It would appear that your clothing is innocent. I admit that I am surprised, Potter. But I am not naïve enough to be convinced of your blamelessness. You still looked guilty in my lesson. Just as you look guilty now.”
“How can I be guilty?” Harry wailed. “I’m bloody well naked… sir. I couldn’t conceal a scale of a Slippery Snake, let along the whole thing.”
“How can you be guilty? Why, you are guilty just by being yourself, you annoying whelp,” Snape said, being completely honest. His voice was soft, deep and ominous. Snape leaned forward until his face was level with Harry’s. “Lie down, Potter. On the desk. MOVE!”
The final shout made Harry jump, even though he’d been trying not to show fear before the other wizard. He scrambled backwards, relieved to have an excuse to get further away, and laid down flat on the extensive desk which was more normally covered with parchments, trying to concentrate on the ceiling. The wood was hard and felt shiny, and the whole experience was extremely strange. I’m lying on Snape’s desk. Naked. Harry’s cock didn’t seem to mind at all, nor did it seem to think anything was wrong. It stuck up away from his body, craving Snape’s attention.
Which of course it got. Snape’s eyes were riveted on the young man’s body. And the attractive and prominent part duly got its longed-for share of attention.
“I am too canny a Slytherin to let you get away without proper investigation, Potter. You will not be leaving until I have satisfied myself.”
Hooray! Harry’s cock called, straining up towards the speaker. Oh, please… let me go… Harry thought he ought to be thinking right about now. He abandoned the fascination of the plain, white-painted ceiling and instead watched Snape as avidly as Snape was looking at him.
“Accio magnifier,” Snape said, and a silver-mounted magnifying glass, of the classic Sherlock Holmes type, flew into his hand.
Harry wasn’t sure what to think now. Part of him was horrified that Snape would be looking at him through that. Part of him was excited that Snape would be looking at him through that. And part of him thought the whole thing was surreal; that part wanted to giggle, or maybe scream. He mostly restrained it, managing to emit nothing more than a muted squeak.
“The contents of your trousers, Potter…”
“Err… yes?”
“I suspected you of carrying a Weasley product.” Snape leaned down and ran the glass along the length of Harry’s cock, peering through the lens with fascination as if keen to examine every pore on his skin.
Harry’s cock didn’t mind at all. Harry thought it was likely that he’d never been so hard in his life and wondered if he ever would be again. And his cock never normally looked this dark, he was sure it didn’t.
“However, this…” Snape flicked the end of Harry’s cock with a long finger, and the cock bobbed happily, “…. is certainly not a Weasley product.”
Snape straightened up and looked Harry in the eye. “Even Professor Dumbledore has been duped by their products before. There was the unfortunate incident with the Cracking Eggs. You may remember the ridiculous spectacle that occurred during our esteemed headmaster’s annual inter-house cooperation speech?”
“Ummm… yes?” Harry’s mind seemed to have shut down. At least the speech centres had.
“It was a dreadful shame that we missed the important message and the general improving nature of that text. But with the Great Hall filled with sulphurous fumes and the rain of a scrambled-egg lookalike that was to prove tenaciously difficult to remove from clothing, the headmaster’s theme was sadly overlooked.”
What Snape meant, Harry decided, was that it had been a complete fiasco. Harry remembered the rapid emptying of the hall once everyone realised the Cracking Egg was charmed beyond the teachers’ powers to quell. The stampede had been accompanied by the most ridiculous chicken clucks and noises of alarmed poultry that Harry had ever had the benefit of encountering.
“I, however, have never been duped by these puerile, if ingenious, inventions of Messrs. Zonko, Weasley, and Weasley. And I do not intend to let it happen, ever. I am equally aware that if anyone is a danger to that ambition, Potter, it is you. I do not believe your innocent act. Suspiciously, you were sitting alone; ready to act alone. The shape of your robes was frankly suspicious and the whole scenario was reasonable grounds for my conclusion of your guilt. That is why you are here now.”
Harry just looked at Snape. His mouth wasn’t capable of saying anything sensible right now, so he just looked. Snape sneered.
“I learned much by examining the two Eggs I confiscated from Distempa Smith’s brassiere. I make a point of always learning as much as possible, Potter. Everything is an opportunity, and I never waste my opportunities.”
Harry quite believed it.
“First, I spent time examining the Eggs. And that’s what I am going to do with you. Up on all fours, Potter.”
Harry continued to stare, mesmerised by Snape’s lecturing voice. As he saw the man’s face darken with impatience at his inactivity, his brain finally processed the instruction. With a fair amount of trepidation, he kneeled on Snape’s desk. Damn – but this position meant his arse was in Snape’s eye line. This wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting.
He turned his head, wondering what was going to happen next, and then wished he hadn’t bothered. Snape was peering at his arse through the blasted magnifier! His eyes widened further as things just got much worse. The long fingers of Snape’s free hand pushed his arse-cheeks apart. Harry couldn’t help another squeak escaping at the contact. Snape was peering and peering. Harry had no idea what he expected to find up there, but Snape looked as intent and satisfied as a niffler in a dragon’s hoard.
“Concealment, Potter, is an art. Not one you are familiar with, I see,” Snape mused, his voice quiet and thoughtful.
Not for the first time, Harry really couldn’t think of a thing to say. He didn’t think his arse had ever been looked at by another person before. Well, he would have noticed… To be truthful, he really had no idea what it even looked like. You’d have to use a mirror to be acquainted with that part of your anatomy, and he’d never thought of it. Maybe he’d have a look later, just to see if he could discover what Snape was finding so fascinating. Harry was tugged back to the present as Snape stepped back. The man removed his fingers that were holding Harry’s arse-cheeks spread, and surely it must have been mere coincidence when one finger stroked over Harry’s entrance as he moved. Coincidence or not, Harry jolted as if he’d sat on a pin when a shock of pure sensation shot from his arsehole right up his spine. He hadn’t realised that part of his body would feel sensitive like that.
“You can turn over and lie down again, Potter. Your examination has been… satisfactory.”
Harry, by now completely discomfited, (by now happier and more excited than he’d ever been) turned over and lay down again. His reaction was more promptly obedient than could be considered normal for him while he was in Snape’s vicinity. As he moved, he noticed with mortification that there was a small puddle of moisture on Snape’s desktop underneath where his cock had been hanging when he’d been on all-fours. Even worse, he saw Snape notice it, too. Harry quickly lay down and covered it – that was the only reason he’d obeyed so quickly, he reassured himself.
“After examining the Eggs for a long while, Potter,” Snape continued, as if all this was in aid of teaching Harry his scientific method, “the next stage was to defuse them. Your own concealed, dangerous device will be similarly dealt with.”
What dangerous device? Harry’s by now totally confused brain wondered. He soon found out when Snape put the magnifying glass down on his chair, turned and without further ado wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock.
“While you would no doubt protest the harmless nature of your… weapon of choice,” Snape drawled, his hand moving from the base of Harry’s cock to the tip, drawing the foreskin up before pushing it back down on the downward stroke, “you must realise that I need to be sure.”
And Snape was certainly being thorough. His hand was mapping every millimetre of Harry’s cock, up and down, turning slightly to add pressure to the other side from time to time. “It is a process of measurement. Size and texture can be judged by squeezing and stroking, as I assess shape, temperature and hardness. All important attributes must be learned,” Snape lectured.
Harry’s eyes rolled up and he closed them, the sensations coming from his cock leaving no space in his brain for visual processing. His hands curled into fists, he suspected his toes were curling too.
“You can be sure,” Snape continued in his delicious, sexy voice, “that I will be keeping a very close watch on you from now on, Potter.”
What else is new? Harry thought, but really, he didn’t mind. With his eyes closed, Snape’s forbidding appearance no longer mattered. Snape’s marvellous voice and his wonderful hands drove all such concerns from Harry’s mind, in fact they drove everything from Harry’s mind. This was an amazing experience, and now Harry just wanted to savour it.
“And of course, given your attempt to keep such a suspicious item…” Snape squeezed Harry’s cock more tightly, “… in my classroom, I shall be forced to look at that region of your clothing more often. I wouldn’t be at all surprised…” Snape’s hand sped up, the pressure harder, coming faster now, “…if I don’t have to check you regularly in my office, just to be sure. You are obviously very…” Harry’s cock couldn’t take it, it wasn’t made for this, it was only accustomed to its owner’s rather basic masturbatory skills, “…very slippery.”
And Snape never spoke a truer word. Harry’s cock pulsed and shot a decidedly slippery offering all over his belly and Snape’s encircling hand. Harry wailed in mortification – so he told himself – although it sounded remarkably like an orgasmic cry of ecstasy.
When Harry settled enough, his whirling mind coming back to earth so he could once again open his eyes, Snape was looking intently at him. His professor was holding his hand up, as if showing Harry just what a disgraceful mess the young man had made of his teacher’s skin.
“Of course, I would be remiss if I failed to test all the properties of the suspect device, would I not?”
Harry couldn’t answer, what the hell could he say? Snape stuck out his tongue and lapped up a dripping thread of Harry’s come. “Oh, sweet Merlin,” Harry said. That was what he was meant to say, then.
Snape smirked at the young man, and continued to lap at his hand, cleaning up all the viscous whiteness with his tongue. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was the weirdest, the hottest, the most disturbing sight he’d ever seen. And that included discovering Voldemort’s head under the back of Quirrel’s turban.
“I confess myself disappointed,” Snape concluded. “I have failed to find your devious weapon. But I will keep trying, of that you can be sure. Now, get dressed and get back to your House. Oh, and Potter…” he added, as Harry scrambled for his clothes, “real wizards do not wear Muggle underclothes under their robes. Remember that.”
Harry nodded, hopping on one leg as he pulled on his underpants. He still felt sticky, his belly smeared with the remains of his ejaculation. He heard Snape tsk, and felt a prickling sensation over his skin. He looked down and was surprised but pleased to see he was clean again.
“What does Flitwick teach you in Charms?”
Harry’s cheeky grin came back for the first time since he’d been noticed with his raging erection. “Um… foolish wand-waving?”
The surreal got odder. Snape threw back his head and laughed. His voice was rich and clear, his face transformed into something different. The darkness wiped away and the man Harry was looking at now looked younger and more human. Harry liked it. He hoped he could do that to Snape again.
Snape walked Harry to the door connecting with the classroom. “Clear up your equipment and leave. But remember – I’ll be watching you. Should you look… suspicious… again, I will have to check you most thoroughly.”
Harry nodded and went about the rest of his day. If Snape was going to check him, it was pretty likely there would be something to find. His own version of a Slippery Snake. Especially after today, Harry thought it would probably be a permanent visitor to Snape’s Potions class.
“Harry!” Ron shouted and waved as Harry entered the Great Hall for dinner. “Are you okay, mate? I was that worried. It was obvious Snape had it in for you.”
“No. I’m fine. He didn’t have it in for me,” Harry replied with a grin as he took his place, suddenly aware of how hungry he was feeling. No, he didn’t have it in for me yet, but maybe soon. With any luck.
FIN.
Trado = I surrender/hand over.