|snarryswapmod (snarryswapmod) wrote in snarry_swap,|
@ 2007-01-30 08:05:00
Title: A Hard Bargain
Warnings: chan (Harry's 14), dubious consent, bondage, bloodplay, breathplay if you squint
Prompt/Summary: One should never try bartering with a Slytherin.
Author’s Note: Many, many thanks to my betas, florahart and gnomad! I hope you enjoy this, eriador117 :)
One of the many advantages of being considered the ogre of Hogwarts was that students rarely bothered him during office hours, and when they did, they usually had a good reason.
Of course, today would be one of those days when he kept being interrupted needlessly. And again there was someone loitering at his door, probably bracing themselves before knocking.
With a wave of his wand, he opened the door.
“Either come in or go away. But make up your mind quickly.”
Annoyingly, the student chose to step in. Worse, it was Potter. Snape mentally checked his schedule; he didn’t remember assigning detention to the boy.
“What do you want?”
“Do you have Gillyweed, please, sir?”
Wonders of wonders, Potter’s tone was actually polite and respectful, though Snape could hear the resentment brewing behind it. He set down his quill, and looked at Potter suspiciously.
“What would you need that for, Potter?”
“The Second Task, sir.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Hogwarts’ other champion. I’m quite surprised you reached that solution on your own.”
Potter bristled at the insult, then said defiantly, “Actually, it was Neville who found it. He’s really quite good at Herbology, you know.”
That was unexpected; Snape had pegged Granger as the most likely source of Potter’s new found knowledge.
“Why on earth would I agree to give you Gillyweed, Potter?”
Potter gritted his teeth. “I could pay you for it. I’d order it from an apothecary myself, but the Task is in two days. I’m too short on time.”
“School supplies are purchased by the school, you realise. I have no use for your money.”
Snape wondered whether the boy would realise what Snape expected of him. Not that it would change anything in the long run.
Reluctantly, dragging every word out, Potter said, “You’d be doing me a favour. I’d owe you one in return.”
Snape felt like purring in victory. “Quite.”
He watched the boy, staring at him until he squirmed and blushed, half-embarrassed, half-angry.
“Well? Do you accept, or not?”
“A Bargain, Mr Potter.” The boy was so ignorant of Wizarding culture; it was unlikely he knew what he was agreeing to. “One Gillyweed head, in exchange for a favour, to be named later.”
“I’m going to regret it, aren’t I?” He grimaced. “It’s not like I’ve got a choice. Very well.”
Snape bowed his head slightly. “Be at my office on Wednesday at eight thirty. I’ll give it to you then.”
“Why not now?”
“Do you have the proper storage potion in your rooms? No? I suspected as much. Wednesday. Eight thirty.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
The tone was sullen, but for once Snape didn’t care. He watched Potter leave with amusement and not a little impatience. Poor boy, he really had no idea.
Two days later, Potter was back in his office. Perfectly on time, too, something he never quite managed to do when coming down for detention. Snape smirked at Potter as he let him in, noting with amusement that the boy grew even warier at that.
He followed Snape to his private store, startling when Snape didn’t even bother to hide the password. He glanced at Potter and rolled his eyes.
“It will be changed as soon as you’re out. Don’t bother, Potter.”
Potter ground his teeth, not speaking up. He probably thought that Snape might go back on his agreement.
Snape opened a jar and took out what looked like a ball of slimy, grey-greenish rat tails. It smelled rancid, and Potter gagged. Snape snorted as he dropped the thing in Potter’s hand.
“I daresay you’ve swallowed worse things in those Healing potions Madam Pomfrey likes to ply you with.”
Potter made a face and slipped the Gillyweed head in his pocket.
“Yes, because adding lint to it will make it so much easier to swallow.”
Potter blushed but didn’t speak. Really, Snape was getting tired of this mellow Potter; having him in his power just wasn’t as good if Potter didn’t rebel.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t forget our Bargain, Potter.”
“I won’t.” Potter hesitated, then trudged on like the good Gryffindor he was. “What will you ask from me, sir?”
Snape smiled nastily; Potter actually took a step back.
“You probably should have asked before agreeing to it, shouldn’t you?”
“Probably, sir, but I’ve got a feeling that you would have refused to tell me, anyway. Am I wrong?”
Unexpectedly perceptive. Snape’s smile widened. “No.”
“So?” Potter challenged. “Are you going to tell me?”
“I just want a few hours of your life, Potter. From one to seven. Say, next Sunday afternoon?”
“Six hours? What on earth would you do with me for six hours?”
How innocent of the boy. Snape was quite looking forward to ridding him of his naïveté.
“Oh, a lot of things, don’t worry. I want to see you in my office at one on next Sunday.”
Potter sighed resignedly. “Yes, sir. Erm, I need to go, or I’ll be late.”
Snape waved him away, and Potter fled.
Only four days until he could have the boy, any way he wanted. Snape reached down to readjust himself.
At precisely one, Snape heard Potter knock on his door. He opened it and motioned the boy inside.
“Why do you have your book-bag?”
“I told my friends I had detention, so I thought I’d better take it along.”
Snape rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. He turned to the door leading to his personal apartments. “Follow me.”
Potter obeyed without a word. He nearly fell as he stepped over the threshold.
“What was that?” he asked, looking at the door in bewilderment.
“Portal, Potter. Acts a little like a Portkey, but on shorter distances and by passing through something, rather than touching it.”
“Where are we?” There was definite suspicion in the boy’s voice; not as reckless as he appeared to be, apparently.
Still, Snape saw no harm in answering him. “My home: fourth floor of the East Tower. Suitably isolated from the other inhabitants of the Castle.”
Potter looked around, his face showing surprise.
“No, I don’t actually live in a coffin.”
Ignoring Potter’s choked groan, Snape settled down comfortably on the sofa and Potter turned his attention back to him.
“Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?”
Instead of answering, Snape pointed to the stand near the door. “Set your bag here.”
Potter looked at him for a few seconds, frowning, but he eventually obeyed.
“Now, take your clothes off.”
Potter’s mouth fell open. “I— I— What!?” Potter’s voice must have scaled two octaves on that last word.
Snape smiled. “I think you heard me.”
“You can’t do that!” Hysteria was welling in Potter’s voice.
“We struck a Bargain, Potter. You’ll find that I can.”
“You’re my teacher!”
Snape raised his eyebrows at the boy. “Trifle in the face of a Wizards’ Bargain.” A gross exaggeration, but Snape wasn’t planning to let Potter into his law books to find this out before he’d had what he wanted.
The boy was very pale. “A Wizards’ Bargain?”
“Quite. Witnessed by the magic of both participants. The consequences can be quite dire to those who break it.”
“Thinking of breaking it, Potter? You could be stripped of your magic. You could even die.” A fifty Galleon fine payable to the Wizengamot was more likely, though, if that, given what Snape wanted in repayment.
Snape could clearly see Potter weighing his options. He almost let out a whoop of triumph when Potter opened the first button of his robes.
The boy fumbled, clearly embarrassed, but he finally tossed the robes over his head. Underneath he wore an old, faded Muggle t-shirt, so big it reached down to mid-thigh and displayed tantalising glimpses of his shoulders. With a glance at Snape, Potter took that off, too.
The boy threw him a hateful glare that Snape shrugged off easily. Finally, he was naked, hunched and hiding his genitals with both hands.
Snape sighed. “Hold yourself straight, feet a foot apart and hands to your sides.”
Finally, Snape had a clear, unobstructed view of Potter. The boy was completely soft, though his nipples were peaked a bit, from the cool air rather than any excitement.
His balls hung low and there was a smattering of dark hairs on his crotch. His cock definitely hadn’t reached adult size yet, though. A blush spread from Potter’s navel to his forehead, to Snape’s delight.
“Lovely. Stroke yourself to hardness.”
Potter was breathing hard, all frustrated defiance and anger. He took himself in hand, his eyes on a point over Snape’s shoulder. He was sliding his foreskin back and forth, alternately hiding and displaying the cock-head, until he was hard enough that the foreskin had completely retracted. He licked his palm, and Snape barked, “Stop!”
The boy focused on Snape again, his eyes and posture weary.
“What did I tell you, Harry?”
The use of his first name startled Potter, making him grow more suspicious, if possible.
“To stroke myself.”
“To stroke myself, sir.” Snape ignored Potter’s muttered “Sick bastard” and added, “It’s not all I told you.”
“To stroke myself to hardness. Sir.”
“Quite.” He threw a pointed look at Potter’s cock. The boy raised his chin. “Hands behind your back, Harry, and come here.”
When Potter was standing between Snape’s spread legs, Snape waited for a few seconds, until Potter was squirming, then in one move, leant forward and swallowed Potter’s cock to the root. The boy was too small for the position to be comfortable, but he was only fourteen, and likely to come quickly.
Potter cried out and put his hands on Snape’s shoulders to steady himself. Without breaking his stride, Snape gathered them again behind Potter’s back and bound them with a wordless spell.
Potter was swaying, only held by Snape’s mouth on his cock and Snape’s hands on his arse. Teeth dragged along his cock, and he came with a shout. Snape held his come inside his mouth — there wasn’t too much of it — then drew the boy on his lap and kissed him, feeding him his own come until none was remaining.
Whispering a Featherlight charm, Snape carried Potter into his bedroom and threw him on the bed. Potter immediately tried to sit up, scrambling and squirming on the sheets until he was upright, oblivious to Snape’s amusement. He scooted back to the headboard.
“What are you going to do to me?”
That was actually an interesting question. Snape wanted to do a lot of things to the boy; now he just had to settle on one. He untied Potter’s hands.
Potter’s body went rigid with apprehension, but he obeyed, standing up, his eyes downcast. Snape wished he would look up, would let him use Legilimency to pick up emotions and fears and arousal. Snape wondered whether Potter knew about Mind Magic or simply acted on instinct.
Potter draped Snape’s robe over a chair, and Snape nodded in approval of Potter’s careful handling of his clothes. The boy then drew Snape’s shirt off and stepped back in shock, falling hard on the bed. Snape had decided to forego underwear for once, and he was immensely gratified by the boy’s reaction. Not that Snape was monstrously huge, but he was willing to bet that his was the first adult cock Potter had ever seen, especially half-hard, and it made quite a change from his dorm mates’ immature equipment.
“Lie on the bed on your back. Hands over your head.”
Potter obeyed, and a spell bound his wrists to the headboard. Unfortunately, that seemed to set off something: the boy started flailing at once, tugging on the bonds, pleading and hyperventilating.
Snape frowned. He slapped Potter, strongly enough to get his attention through the panic attack. He kept his hand on Potter’s check, grounding him, until the boy had calmed down and his breathing evened out.
He turned Potter’s face until the boy was looking at him.
“You’re not in control here; I am. You’re doing what I want you to do, and right now I want you bound. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that when I take you out of those binds, you’ll have more of a choice than you do now.”
Snape took Potter’s glasses off and set them on the bedside table. He then straddled the boy’s body, his cock nesting in the hollow of Potter’s throat. Potter tried to bury himself in the mattress, but there was no escaping contact.
“Who’s in charge, Harry?”
Potter swallowed nervously. “You are.” Snape waited, and Potter belatedly added, “Sir.”
Snape pushed his cock against Potter’s closed lips, spreading precome until Potter’s lips were shining with it.
“Open your mouth, Harry.”
Potter grimaced and parted his lips. Snape pushed his cock in, only to encounter Potter’s teeth.
“All the way, Harry. And use your tongue.”
Potter obeyed, and soon his tongue was swirling around the head of Snape’s cock.
Snape closed his eyes, enhancing the sensations. His cock was enclosed in warmth and dampness, Potter’s tongue a teasing caress on the sensitive skin. Snape let out a soft breath, not quite a moan, and Potter stopped.
Snape’s eyes shot open in displeasure and he glimpsed a look of wonder on Potter’s face — disbelief and pride that he was responsible for that sound.
Potter resumed sucking and licking with new-found ardour and enthusiasm. He deliberately mapped Snape’s cock with his tongue, cataloguing the most responsive spots. His lips were stretched around Snape’s girth, and his head was lifting from the pillow, trying to swallow more cock. Snape obliged, pushing his cock in, feeling the moment when it started to be too much, but never relenting, despite Potter’s gags and tears, until his cock was sliding down Potter’s throat, his balls slapping Potter’s chin.
He remained unmoving for a few seconds, revelling in the sensations of the flesh rippling around him, then slid out all the way. Potter gasped and coughed, then took Snape’s cock back in his mouth of his own accord, even showing a little defiance doing it.
Snape let him set the pace. His inexperience was equalled by his enthusiasm, and he kept driving Snape to the edge and back again. Potter definitely showed promise at this. At last, Potter took him as far as he could without gagging, and sucked strongly, his cheeks hollowing out. Snape’s orgasm rose inside him, and he was powerless — and truth be told, unwilling — to stave it off.
He only had time to gasp, “Swallow,” before pleasure overtook him. Potter made a valiant effort to obey, but soon trickles of come spilled from the corners of his mouth.
Snape held on to the headboard, trying not to collapse and crush Potter while he waited for his heart to stop beating wildly and for his breathing to even out. Potter was still suckling on his softened cock, sending aftershock waves through his body.
After a long minute, mellowed by an incredible orgasm, Snape stretched out against Potter, his fingers scooping the spilt come and feeding it to Potter. He noted with satisfaction that Potter was hard again.
Between two mouthfuls, Potter said, “I made you come.”
His tone was dazed and full of awe, and Snape burst out laughing, to Potter’s amazement.
“Teachers are people, too. If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you suck us, do we not come?”
Potter’s blank face said that he didn’t recognise the reference. Snape flicked him on the chin.
“Little Philistine,” he said affectionately.
Potter chose to ignore his teacher’s foibles. Instead he asked politely, “Could you please take off the bonds? My arms are starting to cramp.”
“But you won’t,” he said resignedly.
“I rather like you like that.” Snape’s hand trailed down Potter’s body, brushing a nipple. Potter gasped, his cock twitching eagerly. Snape took it in hand, pulling on it slowly. Pensively, he asked, “If I keep on going, you’ll come again, won’t you?”
Potter arched against the bonds, his legs splayed wide open to give Snape better access.
“Teenagers.” Snape let go of Potter, who groaned in disappointment. He rolled over and opened the drawer of his bedside table. Fishing the cock ring out, he asked, “Do you know what this is?”
“A black ringy blob,” Potter said cheerfully, squinting. Snape dangled it closer to his face. “Leather, I think. A sort of ring, adjustable. What does it do?”
“When wrapped around the base of a man’s cock,” Snape said, demonstrating on Potter, “it traps the blood in the cock, making it easier to maintain an erection and so much harder to come.”
Potter gulped, craning his neck to look at his cock. “This is going to be torture, right?” Snape simply flicked his fingers at Potter’s cock-head. Potter gasped, and flopped back onto his pillow. “Oh, yes, it is,” he said, with no little anticipation.
“Eager, are we?” Snape rolled over Potter’s body, settling carefully between his legs.
“It’s a lot more, er, interesting than I imagined it would be.” Potter tried to grind against Snape, but he was too effectively pinned to the bed.
“Patience.” Snape silenced any protestations by closing his lips over Potter. It soon became apparent that Potter had little experience, even in that; he was clumsy, not knowing what to do with his lips, teeth and tongue.
But he was learning quickly, his technique becoming better by the minute, imitating Snape’s own movements and making them his own. Snape let him, enjoying his enthusiasm.
He started straying away from Potter’s lips, sampling his cheek, his ear, his chin. Kissing, licking and biting, until Potter’s encouragement had become a continuous moan, going straight to Snape’s groin. He could feel himself becoming hard again, much more quickly than usual.
On his way down Potter’s chest, he paused to bite down hard on Potter’s shoulder, laving the hurt with his tongue. It should bruise, probably spectacularly; Snape’s only regret was that he would have to heal it before the boy left tonight.
Potter howled and squirmed vainly to get away. He threw a dirty look at Snape. “That bloody hurt!”
“Language, Harry. And of course it hurts. That’s part of the point.”
Snape staved off any further argument by kissing Potter shut, before sliding down once more. At the first touch to his nipples, Potter’s back arched off the bed, and his moan was abruptly cut off. Alarmed, Snape looked up. Potter was gaping like a fish out of water, his eyes tightly closed and his face contorted in ecstasy. Snape slapped him lightly on his cheeks.
“Remember to breathe, idiot boy.”
Still, the reaction was very gratifying. Once Potter had calmed down a little, Snape resumed his exploration of his chest, using his nails to lightly scratch the boy’s skin. Potter was writhing under his hands and mouth, babbling incoherent pleas for more. Snape decided it was time to start the next step.
He opened the little jar of lubricant he had stashed close to the pillow, and scooped a healthy dose on two fingers. With his clean hand, he pushed Potter’s legs up against his chest. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up and down Potter’s crease, teasing his hole, pushing the tip of a finger inside and retreating immediately. Potter’s hole was pulsing wildly, and when Snape finally stopped teasing, it let Snape’s finger in without resistance.
Snape thrust in and out a few times, listening to Potter’s babbling. Snape added a finger, then another, stretching Potter carefully. The boy was rather small, and the last thing Snape wanted was to harm him inadvertently.
Potter’s cries had changed to a litany of “pleasepleaseplease”, though Snape doubted Potter knew exactly what he was begging for. Nevertheless, he obliged. Kneeling up, he slicked his cock thoroughly. He moved Potter’s bonds from the headboard to a point in the canopy above him until Potter was sitting in Snape’s lap, his stretched hole slowly going down Snape’s cock. Snape carefully controlled the pace, stopping every half-inch so Potter could relax and get used to the sensations.
When he was all the way in, he reached around for Potter’s cock, and found it slightly deflated, even with the cock-ring.
“All right, Harry?” he whispered in Potter’s ear.
“I feel odd. Really full.” Potter was slightly breathless, but he didn’t sound in pain.
“Does it hurt?” Snape insisted.
“A bit. Not bad. Can you move, or something?”
“Oh, I most certainly will.”
He gripped Harry’s hips firmly and raised him a few inches, until only the head of his cock was still inside Potter’s arse. Snape let him fall while simultaneously thrusting in. The boy groaned, and his cock started to grow hard again.
After a few minutes of that treatment, he was begging for release, his cock purple and swollen. Snape had no doubts that his wasn’t looking too different. Finally, he took pity on Potter and released the cock ring. A simple, “Come for me, Harry,” did the trick. Snape felt warm come drizzle on his fingers, and that sensation, more than even the arse clenching wildly around his cock, sent him over the edge.
Potter let his head roll on Snape’s shoulder, his body shuddering with aftershock tremors. After a moment, Snape carefully eased him off, and stood up. He walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a finger of scotch. He added a few drops of Always-Up potion, and looked at the boy on his bed while he sipped it.
Potter was kneeling, his hands bound high over his head, accentuating the long lines of his body. His sweaty hair stuck to his face; his nipples still stood red and erect, contrasting with his pale skin; his spent cock hung limply from its nest of dark curls; pearly drops of come clung to his body, here and there. He was beautiful.
The skin of his belly was pale, stretched like so much blank canvas, and Snape was taken by the irresistible urge to mark it. Unfortunately, he had nothing here. Though, maybe...
Snape caught Potter’s book-bag mid-flight. He opened it and found exactly what he had been looking for, Potter’s potion kit. Inside, he chose a scalpel. He tutted under his breath: the blade was dull, and something unidentifiable had dried in the interstice between the handle and blade.
A strong cleaning and sharpening spell later, the scalpel was as sharp and shiny as new. Snape took it back to the bed, where he knelt behind Potter, resting his head on Potter’s shoulder and kissing and licking his neck. Potter moaned and stretched his neck out to give Snape better access.
Gripping the scalpel between two fingers, Snape began tracing a line down the side of Potter’s belly. Blood began to well immediately, slowly sliding down towards Potter’s cock. Potter didn’t react immediately; after a second or two, he gasped and turned sluggish eyes to Snape.
“Yes, I know, Harry. But isn’t the hurt good?”
With his free hand, Snape pinched Potter’s nipples. That made Potter gasp again.
“Good,” Potter agreed incoherently.
His cock was trying its best to give signs of interest. Summoning the vial of Always-Up potion, Snape poured a few drops on his fingers and gave them to Potter, who sucked on them, his tongue twirling around the digits, trying to catch every drop.
Snape cut a second line. Potter moaned in part pain, part pleasure, his cock again filling and growing. Snape pushed his finger into the cut, gathering the blood there. He sucked it off, savouring the coppery taste of blood, then kissing Potter to share it with him.
Steadily, Snape went on cutting lines on Potter’s skin. Blood was dripping down his abdomen and the smell and sight had Snape growing hard again. Potter was still slick and open, and Snape slid inside him easily, seating the boy firmly on his cock. He relished every gasp and groan Potter let out.
At last, Snape dropped the scalpel to the side and stared in fascination at the word etched in red in the boy’s skin. MINE.
“Open your eyes,” he whispered in Potter’s ear. “Open your eyes and read.”
Potter obeyed, shaking his head to clear it. He moaned, a needy sound that Snape was sure was born entirely of desire. “Yours.”
In a quick move, Snape lifted Potter off his cock, dissolved his bonds, lay him on his back on the bed and entered him again. Bending almost in half, he traced the lines of the words with his tongue. Potter set his hands on Snape’s head, his fingers tangling with the fine strands of hair, pushing Snape’s face closer to his skin.
Snape bit lightly along the cut skin. He heard Potter whimper, and felt the warm liquid splash against the underside of his chin. He smiled; he had never touched Potter’s cock beyond the first few moments.
He straightened and looked at the mess on Potter’s belly: the cuts, the bruises, the nearly dried blood. Bending again, he slipped his arms under Potter’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around Potter’s head. His position was perfect, giving him leverage to pound inside the boy. His lips millimetres from Potter’s, he whispered, “Whose are you, Harry? Who do you belong to?”
Potter didn’t open his eyes, but Snape felt his lips form into a smile beneath his even as arms looped around his neck.
“Yours. All yours.”
A couple of thrusts was all Snape still needed. He spilt himself inside the boy, his mouth crushing Potter’s in a searing kiss. He rolled on his back, taking Potter with him until the boy was sprawled over him. They remained a long moment together, until Snape’s softened cock slipped outside Potter’s body with a slight squelching sound.
Snape summoned his wand and cleaned them both. With some regret, he also healed the cuts on Harry’s body. Leaving them on too long would make them scar, and invite decidedly unwelcome questions. Potter’s eyelids were drooping, and Snape agreed that a nap was in order.
The boy curled up in a foetal position and Snape curled around him, his cock nestling against Potter’s buttocks and his arm wrapping around the boy’s body. Lulled by Potter’s regular breathing, he abandoned himself to sleep.
Snape emerged from sleep and looked at his bedroom clock. He swore; it was later than he had planned. He could not believe he had lost so much time sleeping when his time with the boy was so short.
Snape shook Potter gently, and the boy tried to swat him away like a persistent fly. Snape raised his eyebrows and shook the boy harder.
That seemed to do the trick. Potter bolted upright, his hand automatically patting around. He finally found his glasses on the bedside table and put them on. He frowned when he saw Snape’s face.
“What is it?”
“It’s ten to seven,” Snape answered.
“Oh. Okay. I should leave, then.” He hopped off the bed. “Where are my clothes? Are you going down to the Great Hall for dinner, too?”
“Wait a second.” Snape fetched a couple of healing potions and handed them to Potter. He was pleased to see, at least, that the boy eyed them a little distrustfully before asking what they were.
“Healing potions. You look freshly fucked, not least because your lips and nipples are swollen. And there’s the bite mark, too.”
Potter’s eyes widened. “Erm, yeah. Thanks.”
“Your clothes are in the sitting room.”
Snape leaned against the doorjamb, watching him gather his clothes and dress himself. In contrast with his earlier shyness, he was now moving about in the nude, utterly unconcerned with the fact that Snape’s eyes followed him everywhere. Once he was decent again, he took up his book-bag.
“Before you leave, there is something I need to do.”
Potter turned and faced Snape.
“What is it?”
“I can Obliviate you, make you forget everything that happened here. Or you can face me Monday in class knowing everything.”
Potter lowered his eyes, unknowingly hiding his thoughts to Snape. After a moment, he looked up, staring directly into Snape’s eyes. “I want to remember.” He left without another word.
Snape smiled. The boy would be back.