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Chapter Text

The desk rattled as Remus fucked her.

They were in the DADA classroom, and Harrie was bent over the large mahogany desk, getting her cunt thoroughly reamed by Remus, every thrust forcing gasps out of her. Behind her, Remus was grunting, holding her by the hips, keeping her steady while he rocked into her. Harrie had already come twice, and she was well on her way to a third orgasm, the most perfect pressure building inside her.

It was the middle of November, and the sixth time Remus was fucking her. Harrie had only had to ask him once this time, instead of having to beg him for days. She loved it. She loved it so much. Being spread wide for Remus, speared open by his thick cock, getting filled and filled again, bent over his desk in the deserted classroom. It felt so right. Every time they were together, she wanted him more, like he was some kind of drug she couldn't get enough of.

And Remus always made it so good, always made sure she came. Not that she had anything to compare it to, but all in all, she was very happy with her choice. Remus was a good man, Remus took care of her, and Harrie was sure she could convince him to fuck her more often with a little more pleading.

"Yes, yes, Remus, oh..."

For now, her third orgasm beckoned.

She rolled her hips into the pounding thrusts, panting, groaning, making the lewdest noises. She was always very vocal with Remus, much more than when she did anything on her own. The first two times, he had slapped his hand over her mouth to muffle her moans. Now, he let her whimper and whine and keen,

"Oh, oh, fuck!"

And swear, because that just couldn't be helped. The pleasure was a tidal wave, mounting and mounting, ravaging her from the inside, and soon, very soon, she'd unravel and howl as she came all over Remus' cock.

"Yes," he groaned. "You're doing so well for me, Harrie."

He moved in smooth thrusts, bottoming out every time, the slap of his hips meeting her rump echoing loudly in the classroom. Harrie loved that sound, too. The sound of their joining, filthy and lewd. He had fucked her too carefully the first two times, had refused to truly pound into her the way she wanted him to, needed him to. That had only happened the third time, after she'd gotten on all fours in his bed and had begged for it.

"Harder," she demanded now.

He complied, getting closer to the perfect speed. Her hips jerked, and she sucked in a raspy breath, mouth open. Fuck, she was there, almost—

Right as she was about to crest, the door opened. Her moan transitioned into a squeak, and she stared in shock, mouth still hanging open. Remus froze, his hands squeezing her hips hard.

"Well," Snape said, his cold, dark eyes taking in the scene. "That explains why the door was locked. What an enlightening display."

He closed the door behind him one-handed, careful not to spill a drop from the goblet he was carrying. Remus scrambled back, pulling out of Harrie and hastily zipping himself up. Harrie just stood there, stunned.

A thin, mean smile played on Snape's lips.

"No, please, do go on," he drawled.

"What," Harrie said.

"Severus..." Remus said, sounding strained and very guilty.

"Don't bother trying to explain yourself, Lupin. I've always known you wouldn't be able to restrain your most bestial urges. And I am perfectly willing to overlook your... extra-curricular activities," he said, clearly relishing the euphemism. "Provided I benefit from them as well."

"What," Harrie repeated.

"You can't be serious," Remus said.

Snape set down the goblet on a nearby table and approached the desk, eyeing Harrie expectantly, malice gleaming in his gaze.

"Either you accept my bargain, or Dumbledore will be informed of how close you've grown to Lupin, Potter. I'm afraid while public opinion is now much more tolerant of werewolves, they wouldn't see kindly to a professor touching a student... Poor Lupin, destitute yet again, because he couldn't keep his hands off you."

"I asked him!" Harrie protested. "I was the one who pushed for... this," she said, dropping her gaze to the desk.

"It's entirely irrelevant who seduced whom, Potter. Now, shall I go to Dumbledore? Or will choose the other option?"

The other option? He wanted to—

"I'm not gonna let you fuck me," she said, glaring at him.

She couldn't believe he was asking for that, and so openly, too.

"You have a mouth," he returned, as his black eyes settled on said mouth, hunger flashing in their depths.

"You don't even like me!"

"This isn't about liking you, it's about your tongue on my cock. Do keep up, Potter."

"Severus, please," Remus said. "I have money. If you—"

"Spare me your pathetic attempts at negotiating, Lupin. I've set my terms. Potter, give me an answer."

It was the same tone he used in class when quizzing her on the use of an ingredient or the nature of a potion, and for a second she absolutely couldn't handle it, her mind going blank. Then she opened her mouth.

"Fine," she growled. "Fine, I'll do it."

"No, Harrie, you don't have to..."

"It's fine," she repeated. "I don't want you to get in trouble for something I did. And he's gonna come in ten seconds anyway."

Snape chuckled. He tilted his head, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her body. Harrie endured his heavily charged stare. He had never looked at her like this, with such sexual hunger. She hadn't even thought he was capable of it, that he would want her, that he had sex at all. His face displayed none of the guilt that plagued Remus from day to day.

"Well, go on, Lupin. Far from me to deprive you of enjoying Potter's body."

Remus made a strangled noise behind Harrie.

"Have you lost your mind? I'm not going to touch her while you—"

"Don't tell me you haven't had those kind of fantasies, someone filling Potter's mouth while you fuck her. I imagine she gets quite vocal, annoyingly so."

Ignoring Snape and his remarks that were purely meant to aggravate her, Harrie turned to Remus.

"I'd prefer it, actually," she said. "I'm gonna need something to distract me from his cock in my mouth."

"Harrie..."

Remus seemed so guilty and ill at ease that she almost went for a hug. It wasn't his fault. He had resisted her advances so many times, and she had wanted more, always more. Having a go on top of his desk had been her idea, not his. They would have been safe in his chambers.

"Please," she said, giving him a smile. "You know I always want you."

"Yes, very sweet," Snape said, his sneer audible in his voice.

"If you're sure..." Remus said, hesitantly.

"I'm sure," she said, and she kissed him, cupping his cock through his trousers at the same time.

Despite his protests, he was still hard, and very ready to continue what Snape had so rudely interrupted. Harrie bit at his lips teasingly, rubbing at his erection, then she bent over the desk, and flipped her skirt up again.

"Now fuck me," she said, glancing back at him.

He stepped behind her, ran his hands over her arse, up her back. As the tip of his cock nudged her soaked folds, he threaded a hand in her hair and made her turn her head so he could kiss her. She moaned in his mouth when he entered her, one slow, delicious thrust, his cock stretching her.

"I'm sorry," he murmured once he was fully inside her.

"You're not the problem, Remus."

He kissed her again, softly, lovingly. She knew he didn't love her, not actual love, but she wasn't asking for that. She had approached him because there was a non-negligible chance she'd die within the next two years. She hadn't wanted to die without knowing how it felt to be with a man, and Remus was hot, and kind, and he cared for her, so logically she'd gone to him. He'd been very reticent at first, telling her she was too young, that she was his student, that he couldn't abuse her trust like that. She had convinced him after a while. It had nothing to do with the bestial urges Snape had mentioned. He was so careful with her. He never bit her, even in the throes of passion, and he stayed away from her the day before and the day after a full moon.

"Kindly free her mouth so I can use it," Snape said.

Remus drew back, straightening up and setting both hands on her hips. She sent her most glacial glare at Snape, who merely smirked. In quick, deft motions of his fingers, he unfastened his belt and took his cock out. He was already fully erect, and her eyes grew wide at the size of him.

He was bigger than Remus.

"Big enough for you, Potter?"

And so fucking smug about it.

"It's not the size that matters, Professor," she replied with a smirk of her own.

He stepped closer, grabbed a fistful of her hair and trailed the head of his cock over her lips. She grimaced. His grip was hard, and he was smearing slimy pre-cum all over her lips, as if marking her.

"Don't worry. I won't even choke you."

"Severus," Remus said, sharply, warningly.

"Open up, Potter," Snape said, entirely ignoring Remus. "Let's see what else your mouth is good for beside complaining how hard your life is."

She didn't stop glaring at him as she obeyed. She would suck his cock, but she wouldn't enjoy it, and she hoped his stamina was shit.

One hand wrapped around the base of him, Snape guided himself in her mouth, his large cock pushing past her lips and onto her tongue. As he forced her jaw to strain because of his stupid size, Harrie clenched her inner muscles around Remus so he'd start moving. She wanted to be focused on him and the pleasure he could give her, not on Snape.

Remus got the message, withdrew and thrust back in. Snape did the same, and Harrie emitted a muffled moan from the dual sensations of two cocks driving into her.

"Oh yes," Snape purred. "Look at you, Potter. Taking cock from both ends. How does it feel?"

The question was purely rhetorical, since her mouth was stuffed with his prick. He kept it this way, never retreating enough for her to be able to speak, his gaze darkening with pleasure as he moved his hips in undulating rolls. His hand in her hair grasped closer to her scalp, the feel of it too possessive, too domineering.

Coming from Snape, it all didn't surprise her, but she wasn't used to this kind of blowjob. Remus let her set her own rhythm, and he only gripped her hair at the end, when he was coming. At least Snape's pace was smooth, and she could breathe properly. It wasn't bad. It would have been better if Remus was truly fucking her instead of giving her halting, hesitant thrusts.

Groaning, she rocked her hips back into him, clenching around his cock. Snape chuckled.

"What a needy girl. Give it to her, Lupin. It seems she likes it rough."

On the last word, he snapped his hips forward, forcing his cock deep, hitting the back of Harrie's throat and making her gag. She spluttered, yanked her head away.

"You said you wouldn't choke me!"

"I lied."

He rubbed his hard cock against her cheek, his eyes glittering wickedly.

"You look very pretty with my cock down your throat, Potter." He gave a harsh tug on her hair. "Open for me again."

"Harrie, we can stop," Remus said, almost plaintively.

"I don't want to stop. Just fuck me hard! Harder than him, come on."

She opened her mouth and let Snape slide his cock back on her tongue. He sighed in pleasure, his length throbbing as it relentlessly filled her mouth until she couldn't take more. Her jaw ached, her lips stretched around his girthy shaft, and she couldn't breathe, which she really didn't enjoy. She was also starting to realize that Snape had excellent stamina and wouldn't be coming anytime soon. He was watching her take his cock with avid eyes, his lips pulled into a triumphant smile, his whole face lit up by an emotion she had never seen on him before and which had to be arousal.

An aroused Snape, fucking her mouth. Thank God she had Remus to distract her.

He seemed to have finally understood what she wanted, began ramming into her, letting out husky groans as he pumped within her cunt. She moaned, focusing on how he felt inside her, his hard length dragging itself along her inner walls, heat blossoming between her thighs. Snape, for some reason, decided to match Remus' pace, and the desk rattled as they both drove hard into Harrie.

It was filthy, to have two men fucking her, both of them her professors. It felt wrong, and she hated the very sight of Snape, hated the taste of his cock in her mouth and the way he kept stretching her jaw wide as she drooled onto his shaft.

And yet...

She was more aroused than ever.

Roaring heat pulsed through her, and she tensed every time they pushed their cocks into her, Remus and Snape, fucking her roughly. She would have stopped to wonder why it felt like that if her brain hadn't been entirely wracked by such desperate need. Remus' thrusts came with slick noises now, and her climax was building fast. She kept moaning around Snape's cock, the noises muffled, which he clearly enjoyed greatly.

"Is her cunt tight, Lupin? How many times have you spilled inside her?"

The words made the heat and the pressure in Harrie's cunt climb another degree. His voice seemed to reach something deep inside her, something wild and hidden, something she had no idea existed until now, and drip liquid desire all over it, igniting a yearning, screeching part of her.

"Mmmmfff," she said, as Snape blocked her airway again, his thick cock throbbing down her throat.

"Perhaps you should come first, Potter. Go on. Come while you're choking on my cock."

He tugged harshly on her hair, withdrew halfway to allow her one stuttering breath, then snapped his hips forward, ramming his length deep. Remus plunged back into her cunt at the exact same time, and that did it. The lit match of her desire exploded into Fiendfyre, the flames devouring her from the insides. Her hips bucked, her throat convulsing around Snape's cock, the lack of air amplifying the sensations, bliss pulsing from her core in overwhelming tremors. Her body quaked, her hands grasping the edge of the desk, nails digging into the wood. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, and Snape was smiling, the crooked slash of his teeth gleaming not-quite-white, saying something, but it was drowned out by the rush of bliss, beating wild in her ears, and she couldn't, she couldn't—

Air, finally, making it into her lungs. She gasped as her body finished convulsing, then slumped on the desk, haggard and dizzy.

Oh God.

She had come so hard she had almost passed out. Or maybe that had been Snape, choking her like a fucking barbarian. He was stroking himself near her face now, the tip of his cock aimed at her lips. Behind her, Remus was groaning, fucking her in quick, short strokes that signaled he was about to reach his own release.

"Come in her," Snape said. "Fill her needy little cunt."

Remus was apparently too far gone to protest or tell Snape to shut his mouth. Instead, he groaned again, his hips slamming violently into Harrie's rump as his thrusts turned frantic, until he stilled and erupted inside her with a roar. Vague twitches of pleasure contracted her cunt as Remus gave her burst after burst of hot cum.

Her mouth opened in a whine, and Snape filled it halfway with his cock.

"Look at me, Potter," he said, pulling hard on her hair.

She glared. His dark eyes shone with triumph, his thin lips stretched in an unholy smile. His hips worked, once, twice. On the third thrust, he grunted and shot his load in her mouth, forcing the bitter liquid down her throat. She spluttered, half-choking on it.

"Swallow," he ordered. "Don't waste a drop."

She swallowed once, spat the rest out as soon as he withdrew. It dribbled down her chin, staining it. He smirked and collected some of his semen with his fingers, pushing them back into her mouth, spreading the slimy substance across her tongue.

"Bad girl. Ten points from Gryffindor."

What? He must have been joking. Those weren't real points, no way.

"I can't believe we just..." Remus said, and trailed off, unable to complete his sentence.

"Fucked Potter and filled both her greedy holes?" Snape finished. "Oh yes, we did."

He tucked his cock away, was decently dressed within a few seconds.

"Don't forget your Wolfsbane, Lupin."

Another smirk, directed at her. She wouldn't be able to see him smirk without thinking of this moment now. Of him coming in her mouth and ordering her to swallow.

"I'll be in touch," he said.

He swept out of the room in three quick strides. The door closed, the lock falling back into place with a tiny click.

"Fuck," Remus said.

Harrie agreed with that assessment, not least of all because she had never come as hard in her life as she had just now, with Snape's cock down her throat and Remus deep inside her.

And Snape's parting words implied he wanted more, that he would keep blackmailing them.

More sex, in exchange for his silence.

She was fucked. So very, very fucked.

Chapter Text

Her first Potions class after Snape caught her with Remus—fucked her with Remus—went entirely normally.

Snape treated her as he always did, belittling her efforts to brew her potion, vanishing it when he deemed it a failure, taking away ten House points. He did smirk at her then, which inevitably reminded her of his cock twitching in her mouth, of the taste of his bitter release. She didn't look away.

The second class followed the same pattern. Berate, remove points, smirk. The memory of his fingers pushing back his semen into her mouth popped up in her head, and, inexplicably, her belly jolted with heat. She frowned at her body's strange reaction. Why was she suddenly getting aroused by Snape? There was nothing attractive about the greasy, ugly git! The only nice part of him was... his cock.

Fuck.

She looked away from Snape so quickly pain lanced in her neck. Her cheeks flamed hot, a mix of panic and confusion running through her mind. What was wrong with her? It was Snape! He wasn't... she could never... she didn't want Snape! Where were those thoughts coming from? She couldn't even blame the two days window before her period during which she got really horny, because that had happened last week.

So what was going on?

She reflected on the subject later that evening, in the privacy of her own bed, the curtains drawn. It wasn't specifically about Snape, she decided. Something had happened during that threesome, something that had jarred loose an unknown part of her, and now that part was craving more than Remus. Yes, that was it. It was just that Snape wasn't Remus, and she was curious how it would feel to be with someone else.

Plus, there had been a full moon this week, so no Remus for three days, and then he had told her they should stop seeing each other (which he did every time, then changed his mind after, no big deal), which meant they hadn't had sex since that threesome.

She wanted sex.

She wanted to be thrown face-first onto a bed and pounded hard.

She wanted a warm, muscled body at her back, and kisses down her spine, and a thick cock stretching her.

Her thoughts ran hot and dirty as she teased her clit, spreading her wetness around. Usually she thought of Remus when she did this, but tonight... tonight, it was Snape she pictured at work between her legs. She wondered how his cock would feel inside her, filling her cunt. She wondered what sort of noises he made during sex, if that grunt he had let out when orgasming could get any deeper. Would he whisper in her ear while he fucked her? Yes, she decided.

"Needy girl," he would say, as he drove into her hard. "You like it rough, don't you, Potter? You need someone to fuck you properly."

Imagining his voice in her ear, she came in under a minute, climaxing with a gasp. Afterwards, she lay motionless for long minutes, shame hitting her full force once the haze of arousal had dissipated. She couldn't believe she had just masturbated thinking of Snape. Fuck.

Turning over on her belly, she buried her face in the pillow.

"What is wrong with me," she lamented.

Why, why Snape? He hadn't even been on the list she had drafted when she had first decided that if she was going to die, she wouldn't die a virgin. Seamus, yes, Dean, yes, George or Fred (or both), sure, Remus, of course, even Draco.

But not Snape.

She had assumed he wouldn't be interested (dead wrong there Harrie, damn), and he was too old (same age as Remus, and yet...), too ugly (except his cock, but she hadn't known that), and too mean. She didn't like mean. She didn't like Snape! So why did the thought of him fucking her made her insides quiver with arousal?

Confused, annoyed at herself, she had trouble falling asleep that night.

The next day was a Friday. She had double Potions in the afternoon, which was the worst way to finish the week. Even worse than usual, since Snape smirked at her three times within the first hour, and then lingered around her cauldron during the second hour, criticizing every single detail of her potion. He was practically breathing down her neck, and he even grasped her wrist at one point, under the pretense of showing her how to correctly angle her knife. His touch made her feel warm all over. She prayed to Merlin he wouldn't notice her reaction.

In normal circumstances, she would have had trouble getting the potion right, and now, with Snape hovering around her, it was downright impossible.

Her cauldron began bubbling dangerously, the liquid inside turning an alarming shade of purple. She stopped stirring it, reduced the flames, which did nothing, her potion now frothing and beginning to spill over the rim. She stepped back, grasping for her wand, shit, shit, it looked like it was going to explode and—

Vanished.

She was now looking at the bottom of her cauldron. Her gaze snapped up to Snape, who was standing near, his dark wand in hand.

"Detention, Potter."

"But I didn't—"

"And twenty points from Gryffindor for talking back."

She shut up.

"When?" she asked once class was over and everyone had left.

"You will call me sir, Potter."

Oh, she bet he just loved that.

"When, sir?"

His eyes flashed with dark satisfaction. Yep. He was getting off on it.

"This evening. Eight o'clock. Don't be late."

She spent the rest of her afternoon torn between guilt and a sort of excited apprehension. Her rational mind recoiled at the thought of doing anything sexual with Snape, of submitting to his perverse desires again. Another part of her, that wild, incomprehensible side that he had awakened, wondered what would happen. And all of her knew she had to go and do whatever he wanted, because he'd destroy Remus' life otherwise.

"Good luck with Snape," Ron told her as she left her seat after dinner.

"It's just a detention," she said, knowing very well it wouldn't be.

"Yeah, but he looked to be in a really foul mood today. He'll probably have you scrubbing his old dirty cauldrons until midnight."

"Probably."

She went to the dungeons, her mind swirling with all sorts of scenarios. Would he fuck her mouth again? Would he want more? What if he asked her to bend over his desk? Would she do it? Heat pulsed between her thighs at the very thought.

No. No, she wouldn't. She wasn't that easy. She had some dignity. She'd say no first, and then, if he insisted, if he threatened Remus... well, maybe then. But she wouldn't like it.

She knocked on the door of his office, loudly, three times.

"Come in."

The room was even colder than she remembered, and she shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her. Snape smirked at her. He was seated at his desk, marking essays, and after the smirk came a long, lingering stare. She returned a scowl, a challenging expression to answer his overt examination of her.

"Potter. Can you guess what you'll be doing for your detention tonight?"

"Why don't you tell me, sir?"

"You will help me while I'm marking essays," he said, his smirk widening to a full-blown leer.

"Okay," Harrie said.

"By keeping my cock warm."

Instant blushing.

"I told you I wasn't going to fuck you," she said, ignoring the potent surge of arousal his crude words had brought on.

His face twisted in a rictus. She couldn't tell if that was amusement or scorn.

"Did I say anything about your cunt, Potter?"

"Oh, you mean... my mouth again? You want me to just... keep your cock in my mouth?"

"That is what the word cockwarming would imply, yes," he said, in his how dumb are you tone. "It does not require any particular skills and thus should be well within your capabilities. What has Lupin even been doing with you?"

"Fucking me senseless with his big cock."

"Entirely after his own self-gratification, then. Not even bothering to teach you anything about the pleasures of the flesh. Does he even make you come?"

"Yeah. Every time," she said, defiantly. "Remus is a very skilled lover."

Snape gave a little laugh, as if she had said something funny.

"Did you go to him because you wanted sweetness and kisses? Is that what the Golden Girl is after? Are you that starved for affection that you'll whore yourself out to get it?"

"Shut up."

It came out of her unthinkingly, and then it was too late. Snape's gaze narrowed to something dangerously sharp.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," he said, icily. "I expect respect, Potter, even when my cock will be in your mouth. Is that clear?"

"Yes," she gritted out. "Yes, sir."

"Come here."

She obeyed, entertaining fantasies of just biting down on his cock once it would be in her mouth.

"No," he said as she was rounding his desk. "Under the desk. Crawl between my legs."

She got on her knees, crawled there, in the cramped space. Snape sat with his legs wide apart, the bulge of his erection very visible. She set her hands on his thighs, slowly sliding them up, toward his groin.

"Respectfully, sir, you are a complete pervert."

"Because I desire you?" he said in a bored voice. "Wouldn't that qualification apply to Lupin as well, then? Or are you under the impression he loves you?"

She huffed through her nose, working his belt open. That small, insane part of her that caused her to feel arousal at the situation was eager to see his cock again, to hold it in her hand, to have it in her mouth, while her rational mind was screaming that she couldn't possibly want this. She didn't understand how Snape could evoke such conflicting emotions in her.

"It's not about love. I trust Remus. And you...you hate me, and... and you just want my mouth."

"Oh, I want more than your mouth. But for today, it will do."

His belt undone, she reached into his boxers and drew his cock out. He was fully erect, even dripping pre-cum.

"I hate this," she said out loud, because she had to, because hearing it might convince her that it was true, that it was the most important thing right now, and not the excited flutters of heat in her core.

Then she took him in her mouth. He sighed in pleasure, his thighs twitching. She wished she could see his face, like the previous time, witness there how much he enjoyed her mouth on him.

But that would make it worse, cried logic.

No, hotter, answered her hormones, or whatever it was that made her cunt so wet.

"Is that all you can take?" Snape said.

She curled her fingers around the rest of him, started stroking the base of his shaft.

"Remove your hand, Potter. And don't suck. Keep it in your mouth, nothing more."

He was bloody confusing. Why didn't he want a normal blowjob? She was vaguely familiar with the concept of cockwarming, but with her mouth? That was bizarre. Shifting into a more comfortable position, she set her hands on her thighs and sat there, half his thick cock in her mouth. He made no more comment, and soon the sounds of his quill scratching on parchment filled the room.

Minutes crawled by. She realized she'd forgotten to ask how long her detention would be. Surely not the usual four hours and more? He couldn't possibly sustain an erection for that long anyway.

An hour, max, she told herself.

It was still sixty minutes spent there, at Snape's feet, keeping his cock warm. It sat heavy on her tongue, sometimes twitching. She relaxed her lips around him, tried not to move too much. Time passed. She was starting to get an ache in her jaw, and some of her saliva was dripping down her chin, accumulating too quickly for her to swallow. Then it was a cramp in her neck, vaguely pulsing in pain.

She shifted subtly, groaned when her movement awakened another kind of pulsing, right between her legs. She was so wet. She would have only needed a little stimulation to...

No.

No, no, no.

Absolutely not!

She shifted again, her hands grasping the fabric of her skirt so she wouldn't be tempted to do anything else with them. So she was aroused, so what? It didn't mean anything if she didn't act on it. Snape would never know.

How long had it been now? There had been no break in the scratching of the quill, and he hadn't moved one inch. The cramp in Harrie's neck was starting to really hurt. She lifted her arm, massaging the sore muscle, groaning at the relief.

"You little slut. Are you touching yourself down there?"

Oh, God. His gravelly voice made her moan again, molten heat spearing straight up her cunt.

"Are you, Potter? Go on, you filthy girl. Make me hear how wet you are."

Fuck. Fuck, she couldn't resist. Widening her stance, she sneaked a hand under her skirt and into her knickers, pushed two fingers inside herself while she swirled her thumb on her clit. Another muffled moan left her as she did exactly what Snape wanted, letting him hear the wet, lewd noises of her fingers pumping into her cunt.

"Do you wish it was my cock there in your cunt?" he said in a half-growl. "Do you think you could take it?"

She moved her tongue under his cock, sucking, bobbing her head a little, thrusting her fingers faster, lost to her need, chasing the spectacular orgasm she could feel building in the pit of her belly. Faster, faster, fuck...

"How desperate you are. To suck cock, to take cock... Do it, Potter. Come for me."

The detonation came from so deep inside her it felt like it started in her very soul. A series of cascading shockwaves spreading outward, hot and pulsing and bloody marvelous, and she was drooling around Snape's cock, her head jerking up and down wildly, her cunt clutching at her still moving fingers, moaning the entire time she was coming, squirting all over the floor.

It was barely over that Snape was grabbing her hair and forcing her to swallow more of his cock. She gagged and choked, the tip of him stabbing the tender flesh at the back of her throat. He didn't relent, using her mouth roughly, like she was nothing more than a hole for him to rut into, groaning in pleasure all the while. Tears leaked down her cheeks, joining the drool already staining her face.

"What a hot little mouth you have. It was made to suck my cock... yes, take it."

He rammed himself deep again, holding her head in place as he ground his pelvis against her face. Now that she had come, it should have been disgusting, should have been awful, should have been the last thing she wanted.

It wasn't.

It made her cunt flutter again and throb in need, as if that exhausting, mindblowing orgasm hadn't been enough. What the hell was Snape doing to her? Had he fed her some lust potion while she wasn't looking?

"Mmm, that's it, moan for me. Show me how much you like my cock."

She was moaning, and rather loudly, even with her mouth full. He tugged her head back, pulling her off his cock, and she gasped in a breath, then coughed. Snape moved, pushing his chair back and taking her with him, until she was no longer under the desk. She looked up at this face, felt vindicated at the lust painted there, at the ferocious light in his dark eyes.

Licking her lips, she stuck out her tongue. He twisted his hand in her hair, while he stroked himself with his other hand, his fist working wetly up and down his shaft.

"You want my cum there, Potter? On your tongue?"

She answered with a defiant look. He smirked, pumped himself faster. He came with a rough grunt, pulses of cum coating her face, some landing in her mouth, others on her cheeks, on her nose, on her chin. The thick ropes of semen were warm and sticky, and Harrie felt absolutely filthy, and thoroughly degraded. And also impossibly turned on.

"Does Lupin leave you with cum on your face?" Snape said, in a rough murmur that crawled all over her skin.

"No."

A little breathless 'no', revealing everything she felt. Snape smiled, triumph lighting up his gaze. He tugged her forward, his cock bumping her cheek.

"Lick me clean."

She gave a wide lick to his cock, looking him straight in the eyes, then sucked on his shaft. He moved his leg, sliding it between her spread thighs, and then pressed the tip of his boot against her drenched knickers, the pressure making her jolt. She moaned, her eyes near rolling to the back of her head.

"What a filthy little slut you make," he said, grinding his boot into her cunt, hard.

Shuddering in violent pleasure, she rocked her hips against his boot as she sucked his cock, constant moaning vibrating from her throat.

"You've already come once, and that wasn't enough, was it, Potter? You're so desperate for more you'll take anything I could give you, even my boot."

Her entire body was hot from shame and arousal, her legs shaking, her hands gripping Snape's thighs. She was vaguely aware of how debauched she must have looked, sucking Snape's cock and desperately grinding against his boot while her face glistened with his cum, but she didn't care. In that moment, she was doing exactly what she wanted, what she needed to do.

He grew hard again in her mouth, and she bobbed her head faster, rocked her hips more urgently, chasing her orgasm in a symphony of sloppy noises. Snape was breathing hard, grinning like a maniac.

"You'll swallow everything this time," he said.

He gathered her hair in his fist, began thrusting into her mouth, in long steady strokes that made her gag every time. His boot kept a torturous rhythm, holding her on the knife's edge of ecstasy, her cunt pulsing so fiercely it was almost painful. Tears leaked from her eyes, her brain felt like it was being compressed by a great deal of pressure, and she was making mewling sounds around Snape's cock, her entire body trembling.

"Slut," Snape snarled. "Ah, fuck..."

His cock gave a twitch between her lips, and he let loose three heavy spurts of cum on her tongue, swearing again as he came. She swallowed, sucking on him as if to milk him dry of every drop, her hips rocking furiously, her eyes closed, nearing that brilliant edge.

"Good girl."

And she was flying off it, whimpering and keening, as she came apart onto the hard edge of his boot. She shook with tremors, squirting again, a rush of liquid inundating Snape's boot, her inner muscles pulsating with great waves of pleasure.

"Oh, God," she gasped once it was over.

She was sprawled into Snape's lap, her face resting against his softened cock, and she couldn't stop trembling. That hadn't been an orgasm. That had been a life-altering experience. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

"I believe a thank you is in order, Potter," Snape said, in a wry, malicious tone.

"Uh," she said.

"Words, girl. I think we'll go with 'Thank you for making me come so hard, Professor.'"

"Thank you... for making me come so hard... Professor."

She lifted her head, met his eyes. He was smirking (of course he was). She couldn't even find the strength to glare. She just stared at him, utterly exhausted and utterly satisfied. He threaded his fingers through her hair in a surprisingly gentle way, making her scalp tingle.

"Now apologize for ruining the leather of my boot by squirting all over it like a filthy girl."

"I'm sorry."

"Mmmh. Are you, truly?"

"Uh-uh."

"Open your mouth."

When she did, he spat into her mouth, a fat globe of saliva landing on her tongue.

"Swallow."

Holy hell, why was this so hot? Something was wired wrong in her brain. Or in her cunt. She swallowed Snape's spit, more of his bodily fluids, and stayed there on her knees, her breath still coming in pants. Snape's fingers palmed her scalp, sending small, jittery shivers down her spine.

"Have you had enough?"

She snorted.

"There's no way you can get hard again so fast."

"Is that Lupin's limit? Two rounds? Pathetic."

He was bluffing. He had to be.

"I prefer Remus anyway," she said, just to needle him.

He sneered and shoved her off him.

"Go back to the wolf, then, Potter. See if he makes you come as hard as I have."

"The aftercare is loads better."

Snape rolled his eyes, dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She cleaned herself with a quick spell, left his office, walking back to her dorm on shaky legs. Her body felt loose in a way it never had with Remus. Like Snape had truly satisfied something inside her, filling something empty to perfection.

And he hadn't even really fucked her.

What would happen when he did?

Chapter Text

A week went by, in a sort of blur. Harrie attended her classes, did her homework, went about her life as usual.

Snape entirely ignored her, in a way he never had before. In class, his gaze skipped over her without seeing her. He no longer commented on her potions or the quality of her knifework, and he didn't even say her name when he gave her back her essays, as he did with everyone else. It all left Harrie feeling very strange.

On one hand, she was relieved. Free of Snape's overbearing disdain, free of his little cutting remarks, Potions class was a much more pleasant experience. On the other hand, it was if she had lost some power over him, the power to make him react, and she wanted it back. She craved something from him, his approval or his contempt, she would settle for either.

Or for more of his cock.

Remus also ignored her, and that pissed her off royally. He didn't behave like Snape, where she might as well have been a ghost, but he treated her like any other student, like he did before they ever slept together. When she tried talking to him after class, he only asked if Snape had been bothering her, and when she said no, he told her she should go now.

"But I wanted to talk about us," she said, taking a step toward the desk (the desk he had fucked her on).

A flash of pain and unease came over his face.

"We have to stop seeing each other, Harrie. I should never have touched you at all, and now, with Severus involved... I won't touch you again. It's not right."

"You say that every time."

"This time, I mean it," he said, his features hardening into cold resolve.

"So you're leaving me alone with Snape?"

"You don't have to do anything Severus asks of you. Refuse. I'll take the consequences."

"I don't want you to leave again! What we have is good. It's working. I don't want to stop."

Why couldn't he just fuck her when she asked him to? Why did he have to complicate things? She wasn't asking for much. Just a few hours of his time, and something he enjoyed as well.

"I don't want to stop," she repeated, pleadingly.

He avoided looking her in the eyes.

"It's for the best, Harrie. You'll thank me later, when you're—"

"Older? Was that what you were going to say? You're aware I might be dead next year, right? Or next month, if Voldemort gets lucky."

Remus winced, still didn't look at her.

"That doesn't make it right for me to touch you," he said, his voice lower, strained.

"But you've touched me already! Many times! So what does it matter if it happens again?"

There was a long silence. Remus' gaze was stuck to the floor, like he couldn't even bear to look at her, and she wanted to shake him and—and—

"Snape assigned me detention and made me suck his cock."

That got him to look at her. Alarmed, concerned, and was that anger as well?

"Harrie, you didn't have to—"

"I wanted to," she said, and the expression on Remus' face alone was worth the confession, a kind of half-astonishment, half-really pissed off now.

"Whatever Severus told you—"

"It's not about him. I just need this." She crossed her arms, staring at him. "I need this, Remus. And if I can't get it from you, I'll get it from Snape."

A sort of gruff sigh left his mouth, and he rubbed a hand over his face. When he looked at her again, his face was so blank he could have given Snape a run for his money.

"You should go. You'll be late to your Herbology class."

Harrie left without another word.

Herbology went fine. They pruned some Fluxweed, and Harrie happily cut into the plants with her scissors, venting off some of her frustration. Hermione made a remark that she didn't need to prune her plant that much, and Harrie replied that she really did, and pruned some more leaves.

There was lunch, and then two useless hours of Divinations (Trelawney told her she would die horribly within the next month, which was nothing new). Then Potions. Harrie did a double take when Snape entered the classroom. The shadow of a bruise marred his left cheekbone, as if someone had punched him. Nobody was foolish enough to comment on it, and Snape took five points from Gryffindor for 'staring', snapping at Neville that he should focus on his ingredients instead.

As usual now, he ignored her, didn't even comment when she completely botched her potion and couldn't even bottle anything for her sample to be graded.

At the end of class, she stayed behind. He pretended not to see her, so she walked up to the desk and slammed her hands down on the surface. He finally looked at her, his dark gaze pinning her with icy annoyance.

"Is there something you want, Potter?"

"Did Remus hit you?"

A mean sneer played on his lips.

"He attempted to defend your honor, which I found quite funny considering he's the one who despoiled you in the first place."

"He didn't despoil—Did you hurt him?"

She wasn't sure who would win in a fight between Snape and Remus. Snape was more vicious and knew more dark curses, but Remus' wolf made him physically stronger, especially when he was angry.

"I hurt him back," Snape said, baring his teeth for a brief second.

"You're a bastard."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"Do not pretend that doesn't turn you on, Potter."

"It doesn't," she lied.

"Oh, really?"

He stood up, and in a fluttering of dark robes, he was at her side, then behind her. She tensed, started straightening up from her now suggestive position, but he placed a hand at her back and pushed her back down, halfway bent over. Her heart fluttered in her chest, half panic, half excitement, and then she heard the classroom door slam itself shut, and excitement won, spilling bright and hot in her veins.

"So, if I were to slide my fingers in your cunt, right now, you would, in fact, not be wet?" Snape said, in a low murmur that seemed to electrify her spine.

"No."

The pressure of his hand increased. She resisted, refusing to go down further.

"No?"

He stepped closer, pressing his hips against her arse, and—of course, that wasn't a surprise—he was hard. She nearly moaned at the feel of his erection, caught the incriminating sound in time.

"Does lying to me turn you on as well, Potter? Do you get off on being a conniving little slut?"

His voice was sliding down her spine, tracing a path of molten fire, heading straight between her legs. This time, she couldn't answer. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, her heart beating rabbit-fast in her chest.

"I think you do," Snape murmured. "And I think you're looking to be punished."

He slapped her. On the arse, one open palm thwack, landing hard. She jolted, squeaking out a meek sound. Fuck. If he did that again, she'd ask for more. And then she'd have sex with him. She could picture it clearly, Snape fucking her over his desk, driving into her from behind, whispering filthy things in her ear as he brought her to new heights of ecstasy.

She wanted it so badly her cunt burned.

"Let me go," she said.

He stepped back. Oh. She was hoping he'd—that he'd let her go, yes, definitely. Nothing else.

"Run to your wolf, Potter. Spread your legs for him. And try not to think of me when you come."

"Try not to think of me when you wank off tonight," she retorted, and she rushed out of the classroom before he could take points.

She didn't go to Remus. She went for a walk, outside, near the lake, and she spent some time throwing rocks into the water. Progressively larger rocks. At the end she used magic, propelling small boulders into the lake with a vengeance, aiming to make the biggest splashes possible. When she made one so big she got splashed in return, cold water drenching her lower half, she decided to stop there, and walked back to the castle.

Her anger flickered in her chest like a living fire. The worst part was that she wasn't most angry at Remus, or Snape, no. She was most angry at herself, because she couldn't stop wanting.

They were both there at dinner. She glared in their general direction. They didn't seat next to each other—there was McGonagall and Dumbledore between them—but from the looks of things, they still managed to snipe at each other. And they kept looking at her. Remus with concern, Snape smugly, and Harrie imagined banging their heads together to see what kind of sounds that would make. Then her traitorous mind conjured an image of her sucking both their cocks, at the same time.

She murdered her lamb steak in retaliation.

"Wow, Harrie," Ron said as she stabbed her knife into the meat. "What's gotten into you?"

It's more about what hasn't gotten into me, she couldn't reply.

"Bad day," she muttered. "Needs to let off some steam."

"Are you up for a game of Exploding Snap later tonight?"

"I think I'll go to bed early," she said, with absolutely no intention of doing that.

She pretended to. She said good night to everyone, and put on her pyjamas, and climbed into bed, closing the curtains. She waited a few minutes. She was, to her great annoyance, mostly trying to decided if she would go to Remus, or to Snape.

She wanted them both.

She didn't want to admit she wanted them both.

Hiding under her Cloak of Invisibility, she sneaked out of the dormitory, walked down the corridor, and paused at the top of the stairs. She needed to go right for Remus, and straight down for Snape.

She went right.

It wasn't very late, but Remus would be in his quarters anyway. Unless he had decided on another row with Snape, in which case they could be anywhere. Shit. She should have checked on the Marauder's Map.

She knocked on his door. He opened it rather quickly, and she slipped in before he could say anything.

"Harrie, you can't be here," was what he said before she even pulled the cloak off her.

"Well, I am," she replied, and she closed the door for him.

He exhaled a sigh. She removed the cloak and faced him. Only then did she notice he also had a bruise, blooming a faint purple under his right cheekbone. Had they brawled without even using magic?

"You're hurt," she said.

She reached for his face, gently settling her fingers just below the bruise. He didn't draw away, so she stepped closer, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Did you win?"

"It was a draw. But I threw the first punch."

"I know. Snape told me."

She kissed him on the lips. He remained rigid, not responding but not pushing her away either. She licked at the seam of his mouth, trying to entice him.

"Harrie..."

"Please," she whispered. "Please, just one more time. That's all, one more..."

He made a rough noise low in his throat. She knew that noise. That was the noise of his willpower breaking. (She loved that noise.) Suddenly his hands were cupping her butt, and he was hauling her into him. She threw her arms around his shoulders, kissing him more aggressively, nipping at his lips. She was rewarded with another rough grunt, and then his tongue, coming to tangle with hers.

He wasted no time bringing her into the bedroom, dropping her on the bed and joining her. Between kisses, she undid his belt, pushed down his trousers, palmed his cock through his boxers. He was already fully erect.

"I want to ride you," she said, giving him a squeeze.

"Anything you want, Harrie."

Well, wasn't that interesting.

Remus settled on his back, with Harrie on top of him. She discarded her pyjamas trousers and her knickers, took Remus' cock in hand, and dropped down on it, impaling herself in one smooth slide. Fuck, yes. His thick girth filled her channel, and she reveled in the stretch, her inner muscles fluttering happily. Setting a hand in the middle of Remus' chest, she worked her hips, going hard and fast. She'd been aching for an orgasm since Snape had pinned her to his desk.

The mere thought of this moment had her cunt clenching. Remus grunted in appreciation. She smiled at him, wondered if she'd think of Snape when she would come. Tension was building in her lower belly, so that would be soon.

"I love how you feel inside me," she told Remus.

He smiled, but there was still some doubt in his eyes, so she bent down to kiss him again. It was the truth, she loved his cock. She just couldn't help but wonder how Snape's cock would feel.

The kissing had turned to sloppy licking interspersed with heavy panting when there was a sound that didn't belong to the scene. Specifically, the sound of whooshing fire, suddenly bursting to life. The sound of a Floo being activated. Harrie blinked, thoughts scrambling through her arousal, and turned to look at the fireplace, which, yes, was burning with green flames. An instant later, Snape was stepping through.

He paused to look at them, smirked, gave his billowing robes a pat, dusting himself off.

"Get out," Remus said, reaching for his wand.

"How did you even know?" Harrie asked.

Snape's black eyes settled on the place where she and Remus were joined, and his smirk turned one notch smugger as he seemed to take in every detail, her bare arse, the lips of her cunt hugging Remus' shaft, her fluids glistening on her inner thighs.

"I set up a nifty little spell that would alert me whenever you would find herself in Lupin's bed. I was sure you'd go to him today."

"Get out, Severus."

Remus was now threatening Snape with his wand, his eyes hard, his aim steady despite Harrie's cunt wrapped around his cock.

"No," she said. "He can stay."

"Harrie..."

"You said anything I want. I want him too."

Remus' features reflected his surprise. Snape laughed, low, dark, and pleased.

"One taste of my cock and she's addicted," he said, his teeth gleaming savagely.

He removed his cloak and strode forward, stopping at the edge of the bed. Remus wavered, his fingers tightening around his wand while he adjusted his aim. Harrie set a hand on his wrist, made him lower his arm.

"Is this really what you want?" he said, his eyes searching hers.

"Yes."

He sighed, setting his wand back on the bed.

"You're too persuasive for your own good, Harrie."

"That arse is certainly hard to resist," Snape said, with a heavy, lingering look.

He joined them on the bed, straddling Remus' legs to loom over Harrie, who surveyed him, her head still turned. Having Snape there was even more arousing than she had imagined. And he wasn't even naked yet.

"Take off your trousers," she said.

He clicked his tongue.

"What a demanding little thing you are."

He cupped her arse, one hand on each buttcheek, and she tried to look like that simple gesture hadn't set fire to her spine. Then he caressed her, like he had done it all his life, so different from how Remus had first touched her. There was nothing gentle in the way his hands kneaded her arse, nothing tentative in those fingers dipping along her crack.

"You're not getting my arse," she said when a finger brushed by her anus. "I'll suck you off, like last time."

"Where is your bravery, my little Gryffindor? Don't you want to try new experiences?"

Damn it, she did.

"Harrie doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to," Remus said, with a hard glare at Snape. "You should count yourself lucky that she'll even touch your cock."

"Potter is far from the virginal princess you're making her out to be. She wants this. Both of us. Both our cocks. Don't you, Potter?"

"Yes, but stop being so smug about it."

His smile only got smugger. Trailing his fingers up and down her spine, he undid his belt one-handed, took out his cock, stroking himself lazily.

"So, what's it going to be? Your arse or your cunt?"

The question left her confused.

"My cunt's already occupied," she said, feeling kind of stupid since that wasn't something Snape could miss.

"Oh, Potter. The things we're going to teach you."

Wait, was he implying that...

"At the same time?" she said, struggling to even picture it. "That's possible?"

She looked to Remus for confirmation.

"If you want to," he said.

His voice had gone all raspy, which she knew meant extreme arousal for him. His cock was also still rock hard inside her, so clearly he was very into this.

"But there's no reason to bend yourself to Severus' perverse desires," he added.

"Shut it, Lupin," Snape said. "You're getting off on this too."

Harrie swallowed, or rather tried to. Her mouth had gone completely dry. The opposite was happening in her cunt.

"Yes," she said. "I wanna try."

"Try what, Potter? Say it."

His tone was challenging.

"Both of you in my cunt," she said, emphasizing the last word, clenching her inner muscles around Remus.

He gave a slight groan, while Snape chuckled.

"What a brave little slut. Lie down, it'll be easier."

She obeyed, snuggling against Remus' chest and the smooth wool of his jacket. He smiled at her, threaded a hand through her hair.

"Thank you," she told him, half because she truly was grateful he was going along with this, and half because she knew it would annoy Snape.

"Don't thank him," Snape said immediately, while he palmed her arse. "He's probably been wanking every day to the thought of us stuffing you full of cock."

Remus' cheeks went pink, which answered Harrie's question whether or not there had been any wanking, and any thought of another threesome.

"Like you have, you mean," she shot back at Snape.

"Like we all have," he corrected.

He wasn't wrong.

Harrie shivered when he slid his cock up and down the cleft of her arse, then lower, the broad tip of it nudging at the lips of her cunt.

"Did you use lube?" he asked, setting one hand in the middle of Harrie's back.

"No," Remus said. "She's wet enough."

A sudden, intense warmth shot through her cunt, followed by a gush of liquid dripping out of her, and onto Remus' cock.

"Hey!" Harrie said. "What was that?"

"Lube," Snape said.

"There was no need!" she said, turning her head to glare at him, ineffectually. "We've never used lube before."

"You've never taken two cocks in the same hole before," he retorted, giving her a sort of slap on the arse that she couldn't decide how to interpret. "Besides, you're too tense. You need to relax if you want to take us both."

"I'm not too tense!"

"Lupin, some help there."

"He's right, Harrie," Remus said, carding his hand through her hair, soothingly. "Exhale slowly, relax your muscles."

Begrudgingly, she followed his instructions. Remus shifted his hips, half slipping out of her, while Snape nudged the head of his cock at her cunt. She felt pressure as he began to push inside, trying to work himself in. A lot of pressure. Was this even possible? They were both so well-endowed, this would actually work against them in this situation... would it really fit? Had they even done this before? What if...

A sudden slap on her arse made her yelp.

"Hold still, Potter," Snape said, and she realized she'd been squirming.

"Just put it in, then!" she snapped back.

"Have some patience, you little beast."

"Ugh, I hate you."

She grabbed onto Remus' arms, focused on the way he was running his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp and making it tingle. Stupid Snape, what was he even doing, prodding at her cunt with the tip of his cock like he was having trouble getting in... or were those his fingers? Wait, no, his fingers and his cock?

Her eyes flew wide when he managed to get something inside her. She had no idea if that was his finger or his cock, but the pressure suddenly tripled, and she choked on her own saliva, producing a strangled noise.

"Breathe, Potter."

"You think?" she growled back at him.

Her cunt flexed around Remus' cock and the additional intrusion, trying to accommodate it. A flutter of pleasure came with the low clench of her muscles, promising oh so much more.

"Is that your finger or your cock?"

"Does that feel like my finger?" was the instant response, and she could feel his sneer sear against her back.

She took a strained breath, her cunt flexing again. Snape moved his hips forward, and that felt—

"Wait, wait!"

Snape stilled.

"Do you want to stop?" Remus asked, his brow creasing in concern.

"No, I... I need a moment. It's just... it's a lot, okay?"

Snape said nothing, holding still. Remus threaded his hand through her hair, murmuring praises in a low voice.

"You're doing well, Harrie. You're doing very well..."

She took several deep breaths, her cunt slowly getting used to that stretch.

"How much is in?" she asked Snape.

"Just the head."

She gave a groan, unhappy with that answer, thought she had expected it.

"Okay, you can move."

He set his hands on her waist and sort of wiggled his hips, pushing more of his cock into her. She breathed through the increasing pressure, her cunt stretched wide and wider. Remus murmured more praises, and she let his words wrap around her, soothing her.

And then Snape's hips met her arse, and he was all in, and Harrie was pretty sure her cunt would never be the same again. It felt stretched to an overwhelming degree, the pressure so great she sensed it in her teeth. At the same time, the ache was delicious, a thrilling zing continuously crackling along her nerves.

"Fuck," she murmured.

It must have made for quite an obscene sight, Harrie Potter sandwiched between her two professors, stuffed full of their cocks.

"How does it feel, Potter?" Snape said in his stupid smug voice.

She clenched her inner muscles in answer, hard. The double grunt from both men was the most satisfying sound she had ever heard.

"Do you plan to talk, or are you going to fuck me?"

"You asked for it," Snape said, hoarsely.

He moved first. Remus followed, and they half withdrew from her, thrust back in.

"Oh fuck," she gasped at that first thrust, tensing all over, like she'd been hit by a sudden jolt of electricity.

"Harrie, sweetheart, try and relax, okay?"

She nodded, closed her eyes, unwinding her muscles. Remus and Snape rocked their hips, slow, and she let herself be taken, trapped between their hard bodies. They moved together, coordinating their pace, rubbing against each other as her cunt wrapped and rippled around them. She could feel every inch of them, cramming her full, stimulating her in such a delicious fashion.

It was nothing like the sex she'd had so far. It was almost dangerous, in a way, something not meant to happen, something that was contrary to common sense, like walking right on the edge of a cliff, or a Wronski feint. Of course, the very danger only made it better. And she trusted Remus to take care of her afterward, and trusted Snape to stop if she needed him to.

"Alright, Harrie?" Remus asked her, brushing her bangs off her forehead.

She opened her eyes, smiled at him.

"Verbal answer, Potter," Snape grunted behind her.

"Yes, fuck you."

He landed a harsh slap on her arse, which felt unbelieveable. It also made her clench again, and for a dizzying instant she thought she'd died and gone to heaven.

"God," she gasped next.

They kept moving inside her. She couldn't stop her body from trembling, doubly impaled. Snape was squeezing her arse, Remus was petting her hair, and she held on, caught in the most blissful torment. Some part of her brain was aware of the sounds that were coming out her mouth, panting, squeaking and moaning, sounds she had never made before, either with Remus or Snape. Maybe there was a part of her that should have been ashamed of those sounds, of how wanton they were, but shame was long gone, burned away by scalding pleasure.

Snape bent over her, shifting his hips subtly, his lips brushing by her ear. The additional weight meant her clit was being crushed against Remus' pelvis, which tore a long wail of keening ecstasy out of her. Remus groaned, his rhythm faltering for a moment, as his face twisted in pleasure. Snape's pace remained identical.

"Are you enjoying having both your professors' cocks in your cunt, Potter?" he whispered in her ear.

"Stop... saying things like that."

"You mean the truth? That you're a slut... that you want us to come inside you... fill you with our cum, until you're so full of it it's dripping from your well-used hole?"

Oh, God. She couldn't handle two cocks inside her cunt and dirty talk.

"That's what you needed from the start, Potter. Two cocks to satisfy that tight little cunt."

Her hips writhed, a hiss of a breath streaming from her lips. Snape groaned, the sound poured directly into her ear, worth any dirty words.

"It was your idea first, Professor," she spat at him.

She felt him shudder. His tongue flicked her ear, a wet, hot lash.

"Call me that again."

"Professor Snape. Fucking his students."

"Oh, there's no plural. Only you, Potter. Don't you feel special?"

She wished she would have been able to conceal her reaction to his words, but her cunt spasmed hard, betraying her. Snape's low chuckle vibrated through her. He did something behind her, angling his strokes differently, grinding inside her, and she strained, breath coming short, her back arching, pressure pulling tighter and tighter at the apex of her cunt.

"F-fuck.... oh, fuck, uuuh..."

Anchored in place, fucked senseless, she panted, heat licking at every inch of her skin, muscles in her abdomen drawing taut, until she was reaching the edge of pain, and she needed needed needed to come, right now, she needed—

"Ah, please—"

She heard Remus swear, his face swimming in her vision, gone all blurry.

"That's it, Potter," Snape said. "Come, you little slut."

He hilted himself inside her with a vicious thrust, delivering one harsh slap to her arse. The tension snapped all at once, in one brilliant burst of hot pleasure. She came with such intensity the world whited out, her inner muscles rippling, body seizing through gigantic spasms as she squirted over both their cocks, drenching them in her fluids.

"Uh—uh—uh—"

The world returned, and she saw the glint of Remus' teeth, felt his hand tightening in her hair, felt his cock ramming into her, Snape's cock too, both of them battering her cunt, using her clenching hole in their own race to pleasure.

"Fuck," Snape snarled.

He forced his cock deep, right where Remus already was, and they reached their peaks at the same time, emptying inside her, flooding her cunt with a double load of cum. The hot bursts of semen had her shuddering all over again, the sensation unlike anything else she had known before. It was a lot of cum, and it dripped out of her even before they were finished orgasming.

"Ah," Snape grunted, with a final jerk of his hips and one last twitch of his cock.

He stayed over her for a few seconds, breathing hard, then drew back. She felt his cock slip out of her, along with Remus' cock when he shifted to wrap his arms around her.

"What a pretty picture you make, Potter. Fucked out and dripping cum."

He swiped a finger over the mess of her cunt, tearing a weak whine out of her.

"Alright, Harrie?" Remus asked, rubbing his hand down her back.

Her cunt was sore as hell, she was breathing in wheezing little gasps, her entire body was sweaty, and there was blood in her mouth, since she had bitten down too hard on her lip during her orgasm. Was she alright? Fuck yes, she was.

"Great," she said.

She moved a bit to nuzzle her face into the crook of Remus' throat.

"You did so well," he told her. "You're such a good girl."

"Indeed," Snape said, as he was sort of petting her arse. "Good girl."

He punctuated the statement with a slap on her arse. She moaned.

The bed creaked as Snape left it. She heard him buckle his belt, put his cloak back on in a swish of fabric. And then footsteps, moving away. Was he just going to leave?

"Wait," she said, half-turning toward him.

"What is it, Potter? You've got your aftercare. Surely you don't expect me to join the cuddle."

His eyes were cold, but his mouth was quirked in a smile, and his face was flushed, the color of the orgasm lingering on his skin. She licked her lips.

"I want more of this," she said.

"I'm certainly amenable to that request," was Snape's answer.

"Remus?" she said, searching the man's gaze.

"I'm going to hell anyway," he said, with a sigh.

"Wonderful," Snape said in his most deadpan voice. "Same time next week?"

"Same time tomorrow," Harrie said.

Snape's smile was a study in perversion.

"Well, well. We've got an insatiable little slut on our hands. Whatever shall we do with her, Lupin?"

"Whatever she wants," Remus said, kissing the top of Harrie's head.

Harrie smiled.

Chapter Text

The din and clatter of dinner rose from the Great Hall.

Harrie wasn't seated at the Gryffindor table. In fact, she wasn't seated anywhere. She was in a side corridor, hidden under her Cloak of Invisibility, watching from afar.

Watching, thinking. Hesitating.

Her heart was beating fast, and her palms were sweaty. She had sneaked around plenty of times under her cloak, but what she was about to do carried far more risks than a night-time jaunt to the kitchen. If she was seen, if she was discovered at all, the consequences would be explosive, not only for her, but also for Remus and Snape.

Mainly for them, actually, because everyone would assume they had forced her into this. Her reputation would take a blow, and she'd get called a slut, no doubt, but she didn't really care about that. She cared much more about the damage it would wreck on Remus and Snape. They'd be seen as sexual predators, and they'd lose their job, which for Snape carried additional risks since his usefulness to Voldemort was directly tied to his presence at Hogwarts.

And she wouldn't be able to see them anymore.

So while it was her idea to do this in the first place, she would never have gone forward if Snape hadn't been so damn enthusiastic about it. It had been an idle remark in her mouth, a joke, and he had immediately reacted, his dark eyes flashing with interest as he had trained them on her and purred, "What a tempting thought, Potter. I had no idea you were this inventive."

It was the praise in his voice that had done it, really. It was so rare coming from him, and she craved it more than praise from Remus, which was nice, but expected.

"I'll show you how inventive I am," she had replied, and his shark smile had sent lovely little thrills into her stomach.

Remus had protested, of course, but not for long.

"If you don't trust Potter to be silent, she doesn't have to touch you," Snape had said, implying a coward somewhere in there, or perhaps a I'll have fun if you don't, and Remus had folded, declaring that yes, he wanted Harrie to touch him as well.

She'd touch them both.

They were currently sitting next to each other, and she wondered if any of the other professors had said anything about that, had commented on how unusual that was. Perhaps they would assume the two men were fucking. (And oh, Harrie would have really liked to see that, but sadly, while they both loved fucking her, they wouldn't fuck each other. Yes, she had asked.)

She stepped into the Great Hall, her footsteps light, the cloak wrapped tightly around her. She stayed near the right wall, where there was less traffic, still had to avoid a group of first year Ravenclaws who were done eating and seemed in a hurry to leave. One of them almost ran into her, but she managed to dodge aside at the last second. The girl didn't notice anything wrong, kept merrily talking with her friends.

Harrie neared the professors' table, deciding her angle of attack. The tablecloth hung rather low, and would hide her from view once she'd be under there. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she could get there without disturbing it, which would be really visible. In the end, she took the safe route, entering by the side of the table. She crawled past a number of legs and feet before arriving at her destination.

Snape, on her right, was wearing his usual dark trousers, while today Remus, on her left, had put on beige ones. She settled between them, and set her hands on their knees. Remus tensed noticeably, muscles coiling under her hand. Snape didn't even react. The git. She'd get him to squirm, she would.

Slowly, still well hidden under the cloak, she smoothed her hands up their legs, until she reached their groins. Remus was flaccid. Snape was not. Decidedly not, she determined as she patted his bulge. He was more than half-hard, and the thought that he'd been waiting for her to show up in such a state sent a hot pulse of arousal in her blood. She squeezed him, aiming to get a reaction out of him. He didn't twitch.

"Lupin, would you pass the salt?" came his voice from above, smooth and unbothered.

The bastard.

She squeezed him again, harder, and then abandoned Remus an instant, because she needed both hands to undo Snape's belt and all the stupid buttons of his trousers. When his cock fell in her palm, heavy and well on its way to a full erection, she started stroking him, using her free hand to work on Remus. She got his cock out too, pumped him the way he liked, encouraging him to harden.

Conversations went on at the table, while below, Harrie jerked off both her professors.

She gave them slow strokes, taking her time. Coordinating her movements was harder than she had anticipated, so these weren't her best handjobs, but she figured the situation more than made up for it. It certainly did for her, arousal a constant, heady thrum between her legs.

Remus' prick was fully hard now, and Snape's was dripping pre-cum, which was slicking up her palm. Any sound her hands made while sliding up and down their cocks was covered by the clinks of cutlery and the noises of conversation. She went faster, deciding on which cock she would put her mouth first. She wanted to make Snape groan, or tense, or something, shake him from his perfect control, but did he deserve her mouth on him first?

No.

She let him feel it, placed her open mouth right over the tip of his cock, exhaling there, and then she took it all away and went to Remus. She heard a soft grunt muffled from him when she licked at his cock, smiled, did it again, slower. One hand idly caressing Snape, she focused on Remus, pressing her lips to his shaft, sucking gently, her tongue lapping at him. He groaned again, his thighs trembling.

"Something wrong, Lupin?" Snape asked in a bored tone, and Harrie could picture the dark malicious spark in his eyes, could imagine the curl of his lips as he asked that question.

"A bit of bread that almost went down the wrong way, that's all," Remus replied, coughing.

"Have some water, Remus," Professor Sprout, who was sitting on Remus' left, offered.

"Thank you."

If Harrie had wanted to be really naughty, she would have waited until he was drinking, and then she would have taken him deep into her throat. But this was Remus, not Snape, so the result would have been too dangerous. He'd have spewed water all over the table. Plus, he deserved a nice, gentle blowjob.

She went back at it, licking and sucking, keeping an eye on Snape's prick as she stroked him. He was dripping more and more pre-cum, enough that her hand was all sticky now, and from time to time his cock twitched, betraying his need. Harrie had noticed his cock was a lot more honest than him. While Snape himself never said things like I need you, or I love the way your mouth feels on me, his cock hardened the moment Harrie looked at him, and displayed impressive stamina.

She moved her mouth off Remus, gave Snape a small lick combined with a firm upstroke, just to tease him, then she focused on Remus again. He was rather close, she could tell. Usually, he lasted longer than that. Must have been the thrill of being sucked off in public.

"The Gryffindor table is lacking one Miss Potter," Snape said.

He was having so much fun. She was sure he was smiling right now, enjoying his own little private joke, shared with her and Remus. How did one go about to answer Haha, very funny with only a cock at hand? She decided that rubbing her thumb on his cockhead and smearing his own pre-cum all over the plush mushroom tip would do.

"I'm sure she'll turn up," Remus said, voice a bit shaky.

In her mouth, his cock was twitching, so close now. She wrapped her hand at the base of him and stroked what she couldn't fit in. It was a matter of seconds before he came... She wanted it so much, wanted him to spurt across her tongue, wanted to swallow it all while no one had any idea of what was going on under the table.

"Miss Potter seems distracted in class lately," Professor Sprout said.

"I've noticed that too," Snape said, which wasn't even true.

Remus didn't say anything because he was too busy coming, shuddering as he filled her mouth with his bitter release. She swallowed dutifully, pumping him through his orgasm.

"Lupin? What do you think?" Snape prompted.

"Miss Potter is doing fine," Remus said, in a rasp.

Oh yes, doing very fine indeed.

She licked him clean, tucked him back in his trousers, zipped him up. There. Now, onto Snape. His cock was jutting up eagerly, wet from his own pre-cum Harrie had smeared all over him. She settled between his legs, started at the base of his shaft, pressing the tip of her tongue there and trailing it up, so very slowly. When she reached his cockhead, she flattened her tongue over it and gave it a few firm licks, just the way Snape liked it. His thighs tensed for the briefest moment.

Smiling, she closed her lips on the tip of his prick, sucked, fluttering her tongue. What Snape enjoyed most during a blowjob, or at any time during sex, was being in control. But here, he couldn't do anything.

No hand in her hair to direct her.

No commands growled in that deep, dark voice.

No tight grip to force her head down further and make her gag on his cock.

The control was all hers. Oh, what an excellent idea that had been.

She played with him. She teased, she feathered fingers and tongue over him, she withheld the full warmth of her mouth, giving him only the barest of brushes, while his cock strained impatiently. She was taking great pleasure in imagining his face. Well, it most likely wasn't betraying anything. But she could feel frustration pouring off him, and biting need, the kind with sharp edges that was so specific to Snape.

What would he say to her, if he could? Make me come, you little slut? Quit teasing and take my cum? You'll regret it, Potter? A mix of threats and degrading insults which should not have turned her on, but which did. Being called a slut by Snape set the basest part of her brain on fire, and never failed to have her cunt clenching. He took such relish in saying the word. Whispering it in her ear while he was deep inside her, growling it in time with his thrusts, mouthing it against her throat as he held her hair in a tight grip... and she had noticed Remus liked it, too. He would never have said the word himself, but whenever Snape did, there was a glimmer in his eyes, something that looked hungry, wolfish.

Snape shifted slightly, bringing his knee in contact with her shoulder. She set one hand on that knee, patted him. He tensed. Oh, had that been too condescending? So sorry Professor, here, she could make it better...

She brought him halfway into her mouth, curled her fingers around the rest, got to work. Slow for the first few pumps, her lips and tongue applying constant suction, then she quickened her pace, her fist wetly working up and down his length. Letting the tip of his cock rest on her tongue, she twisted her wrist as she stroked him, again and again.

It didn't take long from there. He was so wound up, and so needy... It was only a couple of minutes before a single tremor ran through him—she felt it—and he came in great bursts, flooding her mouth with hot semen. She swallowed several times until she'd gotten everything, her cunt pulsing with heat. Her knickers were so wet.

She licked him clean just as she had for Remus, tucked him back into his trousers, even did the buttons up, until no one could have suspected he had just been sucked off.

"Perhaps a few detentions would help Potter focus," he had the nerve to say.

"Don't you have her in detention every Saturday until the holidays already?" Professor Sprout said. "Ease off on the poor girl, Severus."

"Potter is a typical Gryffindor," Snape replied. "They need a firm hand, lest they start losing sight of what matters."

Professor Sprout gave a small humph, evidently disagreeing with that assessment. Harrie couldn't wait to experience more of Snape's firm hand.

A smile on her lips, she crawled back the way she had came, exited from under the table, and stalked her way along the wall. She left the Great Hall, the taste of cum lingering in her mouth.

What a dinner that had been.

Chapter Text

Snape tightened the restraint around her left wrist, gave a tug on the leather cuff.

"Not too tight?" he asked.

"I like it tight."

"We discussed this already. The goal is for you to be safe. The restraints should only be tight enough to heighten your pleasure, not so much that they cut off your circulation or harm you in any way. So I'll ask again, Potter. Is it too tight?"

"It's fine."

She wiggled her wrist to prove it. He tugged again on the cuff, looked satisfied, then leaned back. His gaze smoldered over her. It felt like he was caressing her with his eyes, over every inch of her body. She groaned, his stare arousing her. It didn't help, of course, that her cunt was currently exposed to the cool air of the room.

She was fully naked, lying down on her belly on the comfortable leather padding of the breeding bench. Her wrists were tied to the sides, level with her head, while her legs were spread wide, ankles fastened low, her feet touching the floor. Her arse was tilted up, offered to the eye, and to anyone who might want to do more than look.

At the moment, Remus was only watching it. He stood to the side, a bit behind her, arms crossed, one hand idly picking at the wool of his sweater, the way he did when he was nervous. The full moon was tomorrow. His wolf was there, under the surface, and Harrie knew it was hungry. 'A ravenous sexual appetite', as Snape had put it. He was keeping himself in check, but that hunger shone in his eyes, which glinted yellow as he tilted his head to consider her.

It would be the first time they'd have sex so close to the full moon. Harrie couldn't fucking wait.

Snape sat on a stool just in front of her, close enough that she'd be able to suck his cock.

"You understand what's about to happen, Potter?" he said.

"Explain it one more time, Professor," she said, in a teasing tone.

He loved it when she called him 'Professor' during sex, which was really all kinds of perverted. So, naturally, she did it a lot.

"Lupin will fuck you the way you should be fucked, hard, fast, and rough, the way he has no doubt imagined fucking you a hundred times, but has never dared to. And at the end, he will knot you. Like a proper bitch, Potter. He'll force his sizeable knot into your little cunt and flood it with his seed."

She shuddered from his words, straining against her restraints. The idea of being knotted sent a riot of heat into her belly. A week before, she hadn't even known that was possible. It was Snape who had brought it up, while they were both inside her, a passing remark about Remus' size around the full moon. Harrie had immediately asked him what he meant, and she had learned all about werewolves' knots, the lecture delivered in Snape's rumbling, pussy-clenching voice.

It was Remus who had suggested the breeding bench. It would be easier for him, he had said, if he had access to Harrie's cunt, and if she was tied up. It was only a fantasy. There would be no actual breeding. She took a contraceptive potion, and both Snape and Remus cast a charm on themselves that made their sperm infertile, as an added precaution. Having sex was fun, but no one wanted her to end up pregnant.

"Now, remind me your safe word," Snape said.

"Quidditch."

"What a good slut," he purred, which made her cunt flutter and clench. "Lupin, she's ready for you."

Remus took a few steps toward her, palming the bulge in his trousers.

"If I bite her..." he started.

"You took your Wolfsbane," Snape said. "It makes all your fluids safe. You can come inside her, and obviously, you can bite her."

"I won't," Remus said, his jaw working.

"It's fine if you do," Harrie said.

"I won't," Remus repeated. "Don't ask me to bite you, Harrie."

"I'm not asking. Just fuck me, Remus. Let the wolf have me."

A hungry sheen rolled over his eyes.

"If I lose control too much, you'll stop me," he said to Snape.

"As we discussed," Snape replied. "I won't let you hurt her."

Remus gave a jerky nod. Harrie smiled at him. He wanted her, that much was clear, but he was also so afraid of what his wolf could do to her. He had kept his bestial desires on a leash his entire life, had always exercised such careful control. Tonight, he would let loose.

Harrie had imagined it a lot. She was ready to be scratched, to be bitten, to be fucked so hard her cunt would beg for mercy.

She was ready for the wolf.

Snape would make sure nothing dangerous would happen, and there was the safeword anyway. She hasn't used it so far, hadn't felt the need to make anything stop during the handful of threesomes they'd done since Snape had suggested introducing a safeword. She didn't anticipate she'd ever need it with Remus alone, and with Snape, it didn't feel right. She liked it when he pushed her limits. Liked it when he spanked her until her arse was raw, when he fucked her on his desk until she was drooling and begging for his cum.

She watched Remus as he removed his trousers and freed his cock. It was all red and swollen, and it looked bigger than normal. Actually bigger than Snape's, if she wasn't mistaken.

"Enjoying what you're seeing, Potter?" Snape asked in a sly tone. "A wolf's cock for your hungry little cunt... it won't feel like anything Lupin has ever given you before."

"How do you know?" she said, swinging her gaze back to him, confronted by his smug smirk. "Have you been fucked by a werewolf, Professor?"

"I happen to know a great many things. This is what happens when one has a learned mind intent on accumulating academic knowledge instead of being content with taking cock and playing the filthy little slut for her two professors."

"Oh, but where would you put your cock if I wasn't a slut, sir?" she returned, sticking out her tongue.

He was hard in his trousers. She could see the bulge not so far from her face, tenting the tissue.

"Where indeed," he said, his gaze heavy, fixed on her mouth.

He cupped her chin and placed his thumb on her outstretched tongue, rubbing the muscle. She closed her lips around the digit, sucking it into her mouth. He pressed his thumb against the inside of her cheek, then withdrew it and smeared her own saliva onto her lips.

"Now, ask him to fuck you."

She glanced at Remus. He was leisurely stroking himself, his hand pumping up and down his length as he surveyed her bound body.

"Please," she said, a twinge of need in her voice. "Please, fuck me."

"That doesn't sound very convincing to me, Potter. What do you think, Lupin?"

Remus shook his head, his lips tugging into a faint smile. She whined, straining into her restraints.

"Please, fuck me, Remus. I want your cock inside me. I want you to... want you to knot me, please, please."

"Is this what you really want, Harrie?" Remus said, fisting his cock, taunting her with the sight of it.

"Pleeease, God..."

She sounded a bit deranged, and she didn't care at all.

"Well, Snape?" Remus said. "Is that satisfying?"

Fuck, she hated it when they teamed up against her. (No, she didn't. She loved it.)

"Let's give our little slut what she needs," Snape said, and Harrie groaned in relief.

Remus stepped behind her, put a hand at the small of her back. The other, she knew, was grasping his thick cock, guiding it between her legs. The head pushed into her, and then he gave her his entire shaft, slipping in with one thrust. She felt every hard inch stretching her, emitted a little shuddering moan, clenching around him when he bottomed out. He let out a low growl, grasped both her hips, fingers splayed there warm and firm.

"Still as tight as ever, is she?" Snape said, his eyes glittering with a wicked lust that set her aflame just as much as Remus' cock.

Remus didn't even answer verbally, just grunted again. He pulled out halfway, thrust back inside her with a rough snap of hips, and he was so big, God, stretching her inner walls so much.

"Can you feel it, Potter? His thick werewolf cock in your tight little hole? I can hear how wet you are. Fucking soaked for us."

"He feels better than you," she said with a grin.

Remus' next thrust made her mewl, and there was indeed a wet slap of skin when his hips met her backside.

"What a brat we appear to have on our hands tonight. Teach her her place, Lupin."

"Gladly," Remus groaned.

He set a brutal pace, fucking her with long strokes, harder and faster than anything she had experienced with him before. His rough shoves were jostling her body, pushing her into her restraints, the leather rubbing against her skin. Very quickly, she was gasping from the constant pressure and the steady friction of Remus' cock inside her, her cunt twitching, inner muscles pulling tight. She heard herself panting out whining breaths, knew she was tensing up too much, which just made his cock feel larger, and forced him to push harder inside her in order to conquer her resistant flesh.

It felt so good already, and it had been all of two minutes.

At this rate, she was going to come in the next thirty seconds.

"God, Remus—" she moaned, her breath catching in her throat.

"You wanted the wolf, Harrie," he snarled behind her. "You're getting him."

His nails pressed into the flesh of her hips, and he powered forward, pounding into her with savage thrusts. She was helpless to stop him, tied down, her legs spread for him, her cunt offered up to his cock. Remus wasn't really Remus anymore. He was a feral predator, a beast that sought to satiate his lust upon her, mounting her roughly, rutting in her.

She spluttered out incoherent noises as he pummeled her cunt, her body quaking from the repeated impact of his hips into her rump, and the slap of skin on skin was fucking filthy, his heavy balls stinging her flesh with every hit.

And through it all, Snape watched.

He sat there and made no move to touch her, didn't even get his cock out. He just watched, dark eyes drinking in the spectacle of Harrie getting fucked by the wolf.

She whimpered, her hands clenching, her mouth open, ready for anything Snape might want to put in there.

"Are you close, Potter?" he said in a low, silky voice. "How many times do you think you'll come tonight?"

"Fuck you."

Maybe if she annoyed him enough, he'd shut her up with his cock. That tactic had worked before.

"Oh, no. What makes you think I'm even going to touch you? Perhaps I'll simply pleasure myself to the sight of you, and come all over your face."

A moan escaped her.

"That might be all you deserve," he said, cupping himself through his trousers. "Getting your face painted with cum like the whore you are."

"Please, aah—"

She couldn't even finish begging him properly, because she wasn't the only one affected by his dirty talk, and Remus had pushed deep and ground his cock heavily into her cunt, which immediately made her come. She cried out, shook with a series of spasms, her body contracting hard, and then harder as Remus fucked her through her orgasm, his cock filling her clenching cunt again and again.

"Ah, ah," she gasped, riding the intense waves of her pleasure until they had transitioned to tiny aftershocks. "Mmm, fuck."

"This fucking cunt," Remus growled, ramming hard into her. "Ah, so good. Gonna breed you, Harrie."

Remus never cursed during sex. He never said 'cunt', and he didn't do dirty talk. Hearing all that was almost enough to cause her to climax again. She fought against the cuffs at her wrists, tugging and pushing, did the same with her ankles, trying to move in any way she could. There was something delicious in feeling how helpless she was, in being tied and spread open for cock, unable to do anything but take whatever they would do to her.

Snape had his mean smirk on, the one he wore when she got desperate enough to beg, when she started drooling from pleasure and could no longer think straight. It was one of his hottest facial expressions, which really wasn't fair.

"Nnnn-Snape, please..."

"If you insist, Potter," he said.

He undid his belt slowly, unbuttoned himself even more slowly, teasing her, holding back what she so desperately wanted, while Remus pounded away into her. Finally, his cock appeared, thick and erect, liquid beading at the plush head. Saliva flooded her mouth. She gave a whine, sticking her tongue out.

"Someone wants more cock, doesn't she? Our little slut isn't satisfied with having her cunt full. She needs her mouth to be plugged too."

She was breathing too fast, and she could feel that tight coil of pressure building in her cunt, knew too well what it meant.

"Gonna come again," she whimpered.

"Go on. Milk the wolf's cock. Try to make him spill inside you."

Remus released a wild grunt, his hips smacking into her arse brutally. She wailed as she crested, drowning in bliss, the swell of pleasure hot as lava. Her hips bucked, tried to buck, didn't go anywhere, not with how hard Remus was gripping them. He grunted, pumping hard, his thick cock putting pressure on that most sensitive spot inside her, and with every thrust she burned hotter, until she couldn't take it, started begging for mercy.

"Ah, please, stop, it's—too much—"

"Are you using your safeword, Potter?" Snape said.

"No," she croaked, half-glaring at him.

"Then he's not stopping."

And he didn't. He brought her to a third orgasm as soon as the second one was over, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, overwhelming her nerves, soaking them in sharp heat. Remus was ruthless, his large hands anchored at her hips, leaning over her now, putting some of his weight on her as he fucked her. The bench creaked, and she kept moaning and begging, her eyes watering, her vision blurred, her body jolting in time with the surges of Remus' cock into her. His thrusts were frenzied now, animalistic, simply chasing pleasure in the clutch of her cunt, and no normal man would have been able to keep that pace for long, but the wolf, fuck—the wolf could.

Snape was stroking himself right in front of her, his hand rotating in languid strokes on his prick. She still wanted it.

"Professor..." she wheezed, barely loud enough to be heard over the wet slap-slap-slap of Remus' pounding.

"You can feel his knot, can't you?" Snape said.

He shifted closer, parting his legs wider, and he gripped her hair, positioning her head until her lips were almost brushing the head of his cock.

"He'll force it inside you soon, Potter. His entire swollen knot into that pretty little cunt of yours. Will you scream?"

She huffed, and darted her tongue out to lick the head of his cock. That was all she could do, lap at the tip and taste his pre-cum, so she did it again and again, swirling her tongue over him. Behind her, Remus suddenly grunted louder than anything before, and pushed forward in little grinding motions. Pressure, pressure, trying to force open her cunt further, God, it was so much, how could it fit? She was used to two cocks at once in there, but Remus' knot felt much bigger than that.

"Gnnn, take it," Remus snarled, his nails clawing her hips. "Take my knot, aaah—"

Her flesh yielded, and the knot slid in, then swelled further, making Harrie moan and writhe. Any higher brain function shut down as she felt Remus come inside her. He shot thick ropes of cum into her, his seed pouring into her channel, burning hot, so much of it, like he really was trying to breed her, and as he did, he growled and panted, a rutting beast unleashed.

An orgasm unfurled from her belly, surprising her like a gut punch, so strong it felt like taking a Stunning Hex to the head, her brain momentarily freezing. She sucked in air in a hiss, then moaned as she was still getting filled by sticky warmth, Remus coming and coming in spurts. Her cunt contracted in ecstatic spasms, doing its best to milk him out of every drop.

"Oh—oh—mmmh..."

Was she going to faint? It felt like she was going to—

A sharp tug on her hair brought her back to reality. Her eyes snapped open, found a thick cock waiting for her, close to her face.

"Focus, Potter."

She moaned, saliva dribbling down her chin and landing on Snape's cock.

"What a good little bitch," he purred. "Taking all that cum. Do you know there have been studies on the amount of semen werewolves can produce depending on how close the full moon is? I did some research before tonight, because I wondered exactly how much of his seed Lupin was going to pump into you... it's a lot, Potter. You'll be dripping for hours."

A pathetic moan slipped from her tongue. Remus was half-bent over her, breathing hard, his hands bruising her hips, his knot stuck inside her. He was still coming, slick warmth flowing into her in spurts.

Snape rubbed his hard prick against her cheek. She tried to lick it, but his grip on her hair was too tight, and she couldn't move her head.

"Shall I wait until he's done? Use that sloppy cunt to get myself off, fuck his cum further into you? Add my own?"

"Please," she gasped, desperate for his cock any way she could have it.

"Or I'll just use your mouth now. Open wider, slut."

He wrapped her hair around his fist, guided his cock to her lips, and thrust in, one full stroke that brought his cockhead all the way down her throat. She choked on him, the noise so filthy, but it felt so good to finally have him inside her. She held his gaze as he pumped his hips, hard and fast, using her mouth to find his pleasure. His black eyes glittered, his lips twisted in a snarl, and she knew he would be vocal when he came. She loved hearing him groan in that moment of ecstasy. It made her feel so powerful, to witness such an uncontrolled display from Snape.

"Look at you, Potter. Can't wait to get cum in that hole too, can you? You're literally gagging for it."

Another strangled noise was issued from her abused throat, which was pummeled by his cock. He gave three more powerful thrusts, and stilled, his body tensing as a long, rough groan left his throat. His cock pulsed on her tongue, spurting cum in hot rushes. There was more than the usual, and she dimly wondered if he had used a spell so he would come more.

"Swallow everything. Fuck, that's a good slut."

She always swallowed. It made approval flare in his eyes, and for a few, precious seconds he looked at her like she meant something to him, something more than his student or his sexual partner.

His cock slipped from her mouth. His hand flexed in her hair, caressing it for a moment. Her breath hitched, her oversensitive cunt twitching as Remus grunted, filling it with another spurt of cum.

"Fuck," she whined, her hands jerking in the cuffs. "Is it... over soon?"

"Almost," Remus said, panting heavily. "Good girl... doing—so well."

Snape tucked his cock away, sat back on the stool, surveying her, his gaze now dispassionate. She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against the cool leather of the bench, her body shivering with faint aftershocks.

It took five more minutes until Remus had softened, his knot deflated. It stung a bit when he removed himself from her, and then she felt all his cum leak out, which made her blush. She couldn't help it, that always happened at the end, once they had come inside her and the evidence stained her thighs and her tongue.

They untied her, Remus taking care of her ankles while Snape undid the cuffs at her wrists. His deft fingers worked quickly, and he was done before Remus. He watched her with his dark, intense eyes. She wished he would have asked her if she was alright.

"How do you feel, Harrie?" Remus said, curling a hand at her shoulder, helping her sit up.

"Mmmm, so good."

He smiled, cupping her cheek, kissing her softly.

"I was very rough..."

"I loved it," she said, wrapping her arms around his torso.

He lifted her, and she knew he was going to carry her to his bed and cuddle with her here. She looked at Snape, who was putting his cloak back on.

"Thanks for the fun evening, Professor."

"My pleasure, Potter. Don't forget to rub some dittany on those scratches."

"Maybe you could do it?" she said.

"Lupin is more than capable of taking care of you," he replied dismissively.

He left with a flare of his cloak, using the fireplace to Floo out. She clung tighter to Remus, sighing into his chest.

"Snape is right," he said. "I roughed you up quite a bit. Let me kiss it all better."

"Mmm, sounds good."

She wouldn't get Snape, but kisses from Remus were just as good.

Chapter Text

The quill dipped into red ink, came to rest over the parchment. The tip pressed down, writing an elegant scrawl of a sentence.

Lacking in basic reasoning. Worth a D, and that's generous.

"Hey," Harrie said. "I worked hard on that paper."

"It doesn't show," Snape replied, in a bored, dismissive tone.

He flicked his quill, set her paper aside, looked at the next one. Harrie shifted slightly, tensing her thighs muscles, moving her legs a bit. She'd been holding still for close to thirty minutes now, and she was getting restless.

"I recall asking you to stay still," Snape said, tapping two of his fingers against the edge of his desk.

His breath tickled her ear. She relaxed, exhaling.

"So sorry, Professor. It's just, you know. Hard."

She was sitting in his lap, in a skirt, her knickers dangling around one ankle, her cunt full of his cock. His very hard, very hot cock, slightly throbbing inside her, lodged there all snug against her walls.

Thirty fucking minutes of this, and she wasn't even allowed to fidget. No, she had to sit there, keeping his cock warm while he marked essays.

The next one was Neville's, and he barely gave it a glance before writing another D on the paper.

"There's no way you read it all in such a short time," Harrie said. "You're not grading us fairly."

"The first few sentences were more than enough to judge the worth of the whole paper. Longbottom didn't understand the point of the assignment at all, as per usual. He's lucky he doesn't get a T. In fact, the only reason he doesn't, is because I happen to be in a relatively good mood at the moment."

"Oh, I wonder why..."

She clenched around him. He thwacked her on the thigh, his palm landing harshly.

"You know what happens if you keep disobeying me, Potter," he said.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she half-moaned. "I promise I'll behave now."

"There will be no orgasm for you if you keep being a brat."

He kept threatening to withhold her orgasms, but he hadn't actually followed through on that threat even once. He called her a cock-drunk brat, he spanked her, and he always made her come, often multiple times. Harrie was pretty sure he enjoyed disciplining her as much as she enjoyed teasing him, only he would never admit it.

She held still as he marked the next essay. Her legs were on either side of his thighs, bare against the wool. He was, of course, fully dressed, billowing robes and all, and she felt so small, speared on his cock, fighting not to tremble. The pressure in her cunt seemed to be growing stronger with every minute, leading her to grind her teeth. She was also slowly leaking fluid, getting wetter and wetter, which betrayed how much she wanted this.

How fucking thrilled she was to be cockwarming her professor.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Snape said, contemplating the next parchment.

Harrie read it at the same time Snape did. It took a long time. Hermione had written a lot, and her sentences went on for lines and lines. There were also a few words Harrie had never encountered before.

"Predictable work," Snape said with a click of his tongue.

He wrote an E in red ink, along with a 'unimaginative rehashing of the textbook'.

"She deserves an O," Harrie protested.

"You're here to sit on my cock and look pretty, Potter, not to give your opinion."

He set a large hand on her thigh, patted it sort of condescendingly.

"Mmm, and I look so pretty sitting in your lap, Professor," she said. "Just waiting for you to fill me with your cum."

His hand tightened, squeezing her flesh, nails pressing in.

"What would your friends say if they could see you now, Potter? Your pretty cunt wrapped around my cock? Such a good student, taking care of her professor's needs..."

Her face heated in a blush. She could never tell her friends. If it was just Remus alone, then maybe she could have told Hermione, but Remus and Snape... and both of them, at the same time! She could have given Lavender a run for her money regarding the salacious stories told in the dead of night in the girls' dormitory.

"They'd call you a pervert," she said. "Pretty sure Ron would hit you."

"And no doubt Miss Granger would run right to Dumbledore and tell him I have defiled your innocence. Spin a tale of my terrible sexual perversions, and the complete hold I have over you. How I am forcing you to take my cock, blackmailing you into my bed."

"I haven't seen your bed yet."

"I'm talking metaphorically."

He shifted, the movement sparking the most incredible friction, his thick cock dragging along the needy walls of her cunt. It was so unfair that he could move while she couldn't, but it felt so good she didn't complain. In fact, she barely restrained a moan.

"Tell me, Potter, if we were to be discovered, would you tell the truth? Would you admit that you hunger for the taste of my cum? That you love bouncing on my cock like the filthiest little whore? That you look forward to spending your detentions seated on my prick?"

"I'd... yeah, I'd tell the truth. I don't want to get you fired. That'd be dangerous, wouldn't it, with Vold—with him?"

"How noble of you. Though perhaps your main concern is that, should I be fired, I would no longer be available to fuck you until you squirt all over yourself, and you would miss it, since we know Lupin can't manage that."

He shifted again, such a small motion, and yet it sent curls of fire pulsing through her entire pelvis, as his cock rubbed so perfectly along her channel.

"Uuuh," she moaned.

How she longed to rock her hips and ride his cock to completion. With a frustrated sigh, she remained immobile. The pile of essays was about half-done. Perhaps another thirty minutes, and he would let her move.

She read her classmates' words to distract herself, watching the quill poised between Snape's fingers, thinking of anything but his cock. He gave bad grades to Ron, to Lavender, and to Seamus. Blaise Zabini got an O, but in Harrie's opinion, it was deserved: his paper was as good as Hermione's.

Then it was Draco's turn. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing his name at the top of the parchment. Draco was acting really strangely since the beginning of the year. He looked constantly stressed, he barely ate from what Harrie had been able to observe during lunches and dinners, he disappeared for hours, his name completely off the Marauders' Map. She had her theory, one she had only discussed with Ron and Hermione, and they had told her she was imagining things.

That there was no way Draco had been made a Death Eater.

Snape knew the truth. Whatever was going on with Draco, he knew.

"He didn't write a lot," she commented.

It looked like he had written even less than her, and his opening sentence was a mess. The rest wasn't much better. Frankly, Harrie though her paper was the superior one. And yet Snape wrote an A in the corner of the parchment.

"Acceptable?" Harrie scoffed. "As if. You're so soft on him."

"Are you about to make a pun on how hard I am on you?" he said, drawling the sentence out with contempt.

"You just made it for me."

"Is there not an original thought in your head, Potter? How did you first approach Lupin? Did you stay after class, trying for a clumsy kiss? Did you offer to suck his cock? Or did you suggest a missionary in his bed right away?"

She gave a small scoff.

"That's none of your concern. I don't discuss our nights with Remus, so I won't tell you anything about how it started between us."

"How many times did he rebuff you, telling you that it was wrong, that he couldn't possibly give you what you were asking for, that you had to stop offering yourself to him?"

His mouth was at her ear, the words sliding in slick and hot. Her cunt spasmed around him. He slapped her on the thigh.

"That wasn't on purpose!" she protested. "He... he didn't say it like that, but yeah, I had to insist."

"And you never thought once about alternative options?"

She liked it so much when he was jealous of Remus. She liked the gleam in his eyes, the way he tried to make her come so hard, to prove to her he was better than the other man.

"Of course I did. I had a list. You weren't on it."

"And why wasn't I on that list, Potter?"

"Because I never even considered you had a cock until you shoved it in my face."

"What a glaring oversight on your part," he said, with no small amount of scorn, as if he was vexed she hadn't been drooling over him. "I certainly noticed your breasts and your plump little arse."

It wasn't exactly a surprise, but it still shocked her to hear him say it.

"But you didn't—you didn't say or do anything."

He was stroking the quill with his long fingers, and the motions were so sensual she knew he was doing it on purpose.

"I've survived this long because I am very good at estimating risks, Potter. I wasn't about to risk my job for that sweet cunt of yours. Not until I had some leverage."

"How lucky that you caught us in the act, then, because Remus alone wouldn't have been enough," she purred, layering her voice with genuine delight.

"I will not give you a better grade, no matter how much you flatter me."

"Will you answer a question?"

"Ask."

"Is Draco a Death Eater now?"

He tensed. She guessed it would have been unnoticeable if she hadn't been sitting on him, but as it was, she felt the muscles in his thighs and chest go rigid.

"We will not discuss this," he said, steel in his tone.

"So yes, he is."

"That it not your concern, Potter. You will cease looking into this. You will not even think about it."

"You've been helping him," she surmised, recalling the number of times she'd seen Draco's name close to Snape's, in the corridors, quick flashes of encounters. "The Dark Lord has given him a task, and you've been—"

"Enough," Snape hissed, his hand spasming on her thigh. "As usual, you have no idea what you're talking about. I will not entertain one more word out of your mouth on the subject."

She seethed internally. No one listened to her. No one took her seriously. She wasn't told anything openly. Even Dumbledore was only feeding her crumbs about Voldemort's past, and she could sense he was withholding the most important parts from her.

"Fine. Treat me like a child. Only when it suits you, is it? That doesn't stop you from sticking your cock in me."

An exasperated rasp of air from him.

"I am protecting you, you daft girl."

"By not telling me anything?"

"Yes. You have to trust me, Potter, that it is better than you do not know."

Trust him. Was he really asking that of her? Could she trust him on that matter?

He flattened his hand against her thigh, from a clawed grip to an open palm, and stroked up and down, in a gentle, calming motion.

"Do you trust me?" he said.

She let out a puff of air through her nose.

"Yes."

Despite everything, she did.

"Then we will speak no more of this," he said, and he removed his hand from her thigh and focused once more on the papers he had to grade.

She let her gaze wander around the room, over the shelves, the jars and bottles filled with potion ingredients and possibly a few students' body parts. It was all austere and dark, meant to frighten people. No one who entered his office wanted to stay in it. Even the wards felt unwelcoming, the magic scrapping at her skin every time she walked in.

She was sure his bedroom was different. It might even be warm.

She'd never see it.

He was content to fuck her on his desk, against the wall, or to have her ride him while he was seated in his chair, but he wouldn't let her into his bed. The place where he slept? No, that was much too intimate for Snape. No cuddles, no kisses except violent ones where he bit her, and no fucking in his bed.

She sighed, her gaze drifting from a pale, misshaped thing floating in green liquid to something that was definitely a kidney he had stolen from some unsuspecting student.

"Getting bored, Potter?"

"Yeah. Aren't you, having to grade those stupid papers? Hermione's was the only good one."

"I find ways to keep myself entertained," he said.

He wrote a final D on the last paper—Harrie hadn't even realized he'd reached the end of the stack—set the quill down, leaned back into his chair. The movement caused delicious friction in her cunt, and she let out a little whine, sparks of pleasure lighting up her nerves.

His hand was back on her thigh, slowly heading up. She wished for it to hurry up. Instead, he drew small circles and patterns on her skin, progressing an inch at a time, at a agonizing crawl.

"Professor..." she moaned, keeping still through an effort of sheer will.

"Do you think you've earned an orgasm on my cock?"

"Yes... I've been good..."

It wasn't really true, but fuck, she really wanted that orgasm. His cock felt enormous, all crammed into her cunt, the stretch making her inner walls quiver.

"Beg me for it."

"Please, Snape..."

His hand reached her inner thigh, brushed by her mound, went lower. She was so ready for him to touch her, but he didn't, the bastard. No, he touched himself, his fingers settling near the very base of his cock, where she was engulfing him into her heat, and she bit back a scream of frustration.

"Snape," she groaned.

"I said beg, Potter."

"Please, please... please let me come on your cock."

"Very well. Make yourself come."

She squeezed her thighs, began lifting herself off his erection, one hand braced on the desk while the other went between her legs. Her seeking fingers didn't reach their destination. Snape caught her wrist, slapped her hand back on the desk.

"Without touching yourself."

"Bastard," she ground out.

"You're dripping on my cock, you little whore. You don't need anything else to come."

He licked her ear, teeth quickly nipping at her lobe.

"Do it under two minutes and I'll reward you."

Oh, fuck. Now it was a challenge.

Gripping the edge of the desk, she moved her hips up, sank back down on his length, moaning as his cock filled her perfectly once more. The friction was delicious, making her clench around him, and the flared head bumped at the very end of her channel, providing a kind of burn that she simply couldn't get enough of.

She sped up her movements, bouncing in his lap, the wet slap of flesh against flesh filling the room. Faster and faster she went, impaling herself on his shaft, heat rising toward a peak, quickly and powerfully, all the more potent after such a long wait. She'd been sitting here for an hour, been wet for an hour, no, for much longer, and now she was taking his thick cock deep and nice, and she was going to come on it. Gush all over it, like she always did.

"Yes," she mewled, gripping the desk tighter, contracting her core muscles, "yes, yes, oooohh, fuck—"

Riding him hard, no shame, no restraint.

It took less than two minutes for the tension to crest, her body wracked by pulsating spasms as she came, her cunt releasing a lot of fluid, enough to soak Snape's robes. She slumped back against him, panting, small points of light dancing in her vision.

"What a good girl," he said, caressing her trembling thighs.

He made her stand up, bent her over his desk, yanked her skirt up.

"A good girl and a little slut, ruining my robes again."

His palm fell on her arse, one ringing slap, the impact jostling through her flesh, igniting her desire anew. She wanted more, was ready for more, even as she strained to take air in, little gasps on her inhales, equally small whines on her exhales.

"Not sorry, sir," she said.

"Hmm. It's very difficult to teach you anything, Potter."

"You did teach me to take your cock, Professor."

"And you do it so well."

The praise had her glowing from the inside.

"Do I?" she said, in an obvious demand for more compliments.

Then she squealed, because he had plunged inside her, driving deep in a single hard thrust. He grunted, low and rough and thick with pleasure, and before she could get used to the heady feeling of fullness, to this new angle of penetration, he gripped her hips, drew back, slammed in again.

"I didn't have much to teach you," he said.

She wondered how he could speak while he was fucking her like that, pounding furiously into her, making her moan helplessly.

"You're a natural at taking cock, Potter. Such a sweet little slut, offering your cunt to your professor, letting me stuff you full, begging to be filled with my cum..."

"I'm—oh—"

"Can't even speak, can you?" he mocked, delivering a harsh slap on her arse as he pumped forward. "Can't manage anything but squeaks and moans. Fuck, listen to you... do you hear yourself, Potter?"

"Aaah... uh—fu—fuck, uuuh—"

Not a coherent word out of her mouth. Only a string of breathless little moans, ragged with need, which progressively got louder and higher in pitch as he bent over her, his balls smacking her cleft rhythmically. His hard shaft dragged over one specific spot inside her, again and again, and she bucked back, driven half-mad by the relentless stimulation. He was so thick and hard inside her, filled her so much.

Her climax grabbed her by the throat and ripped her open, splaying her out in bliss. Her spine arched, and with a sob, she gushed around Snape again, whining out his name.

He slowed down, pausing after each time he bottomed out, forcing his cock through her contracting channel.

"Filthy girl," he said, almost fondly.

She said nothing, panting and wheezing, slumped on his desk.

He leaned back, moved his hands under her arsecheeks, and fucked her in shallow strokes, with just the tip of his cock, while his hands kept her spread open. It felt different, like he was playing with the rim of her cunt, pushing in and out, denying her his full length.

"Your cunt is desperate for my cock, Potter. Your little fluttering hole just sucking me in... it needs a load of cum, doesn't it? Or perhaps you want it elsewhere?"

He swirled a finger through her slick juices, pressed it against her anus, playing with the opening, spreading her own fluids over it. She gave a wrecked little moan. She hadn't let him put his cock in there yet. Remus had never asked either. They always fucked her cunt, both of them, or she sucked one off while the other enjoyed her cunt alone.

Snape had asked, a few times, if she would take his cock in her arse, but she always said no. He didn't ask the right way. It was always confrontational, a taunt, do you think you can take my cock in there, Potter?, you'd make such noises if I fucked that hole. She wanted him to beg, to say please, and so far he hadn't.

"Yes?" he said, rubbing his finger against her anus, a small, caressing motion.

She shook her head.

"One day you'll beg me to fuck your arse," he said.

"Won't," she replied.

His hands went back to her hips. He resumed fucking her hard, draping himself over her back, his mouth at her ear, his breath heavy and hot. His cock bruised her from the inside, ramming into her sore cunt, and he hit her cervix without mercy, but she liked that kind of pain. It made her feel so dirty for some strange reason.

"Little whore of a Golden Girl," Snape growled. "Taking her professor's prick into her soaked cunt, and just, aaah... begging for his cum."

"Yes," she gasped, knowing exactly what would make him tip over. "Yes, come in me, sir..."

His rhythm broke, his hips stuttering in an heavy grind, and he groaned his orgasm against her throat as his cock twitched and swelled, spurting hard into her clenching cunt. She shuddered, taking his load, moaning in satisfaction. He mouthed at her throat, sucking on her skin, riding out his release with little rolls of his hips, until he had completely emptied himself into her.

This time, he stayed still over her for about five seconds. That was all she got. Then he pulled out and slapped her arse.

"As usual, Potter. No cleaning charm. You're leaving dripping with my cum."

"Yes, sir," she said, his cum already leaking down her thighs.

She stood up, put her knickers back on, fixed her skirt. When she turned to him, he was in his chair, completely dressed, with no sign of what had just happened, except for some slight perspiration on his brow. She met his eyes. His gaze was blank, unreadable.

"Good night, Professor," she said.

She wanted to kiss him. She also knew he wouldn't let her.

"Good night, Potter."

No, once they were done fucking, he was back to the cold, dismissive man she saw every day in Potions class. Someone who didn't care for her, who barely tolerated her.

She draped herself into her Cloak of Invisibility, and left his office, some sort of void gnawing at her from inside. She regained her dormitory without incident, crawled into bed, got rid of the cum staining her thighs with a muttered spell, and went to sleep.

In her dreams, Snape held her and told her he was proud of her.

Chapter Text

It was a quiet evening in Gryffindor Tower.

Harrie was relaxing in the common room, playing a lazy game of chess against Ron. She wasn't really engaging her brain, but Ron would have won anyway even if she'd been playing at maximum capacity, so there were not stakes. She was having fun, taking some pieces from Ron while knowing she would lose rather soon.

"Harrie," Lavender said as she came in. "Snape wants to see you."

"What, now?"

"Yes. He looks pissed, I wouldn't make him wait if I were you."

Ron grimaced.

"Good luck," he told her.

Grumbling, she got up and headed for the exit.

Why could Snape want, at this hour? They had fucked yesterday, and there was the usual Friday night threesome tomorrow night, so this couldn't be about sex. Unless he was really horny? Or was he going to tell her this stopped now, that he would never touch her again? He hadn't shown any Remus-like guilt so far, didn't seem to care at all about her age. Pointing out she was his student was even a sure way to give him an erection.

She opened the portrait door, ducked into the corridor. Snape was standing to the side, partly in shadows, looming threateningly.

"Potter," he said, with his trademark sneer, though perhaps it looked more strained than usual. "I was expecting you in detention thirty minutes ago."

What was he talking about? There had been no detention scheduled for tonight. She wasn't likely to forget it since detention was synonymous with getting pounded by Snape.

"Sorry, it slipped my mind," she said, playing along.

His mouth twisted to the side, lips pressing together thinly. His gaze was so intent it was near burning her. Something was wrong. 'He's angry', Lavender had said, but this wasn't anger. Harrie was starting to be able to read him, and this was something else. Something she had never seen before.

"Come with me."

He didn't leave her any choice. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her along, walking quickly. It reminded her of the night of her first Occlumency lesson, when Voldemort had been pushing at the gates of her mind and there wasn't a second to lose. Snape had done the same thing then, pulling her along by the wrist until they reached his office.

Was that it? Was Voldemort threatening her mind again? But her scar hadn't hurt in months, not since the battle at the Ministry, when he had been ejected from her mind. He hadn't tried possessing her again since. Did Snape have reason to believe he would try now?

"Is it him?" she asked, wincing a bit at how hard he was gripping her wrist.

He didn't answer. He only walked faster, and she had to practically run to keep up with him, damn his long legs.

They reached his office. He pushed her inside, shut the door, turned to her, with, again, that unknown emotion flickering on his face.

"What is your safeword?" he said.

So it was about sex?

"Quidditch."

The instant the word was out of her lips, his mouth was upon hers. It was a hard kiss, their teeth clacking together, and he backed her against the wall, both hands on her shoulders, pinning her there as he took her mouth. It started with biting, turned into something else, his tongue dipping in seductively, his lips caressing hers. She whimpered, confused. Snape had never kissed her like that.

Had never kissed her that long.

He was exploring her mouth slowly, sucking on her lips, with a sort of passionate intensity she had never encountered, not even with Remus. His large nose pressed into her cheek as he changed the angle, his hands moving up to cradle her face, his mouth slanting hot and perfect over hers. She couldn't help but moan, her hips canting up toward him, an incendiary wave of arousal seizing her lower half.

When he pulled back, she blinked, breathless and dazed.

"Do you need to use it right now?" he said.

"What."

"Your safeword, Potter. Do you need to use it?"

"No. I'm good for... whatever this is."

This was way better than what she had planned for her evening, namely more chess with Ron and then a relaxing shower.

He grabbed her by the wrist again, and pulled her with him.

Toward his bedroom.

She had no clue what had brought this on, but she wasn't about to protest. He threw the door open, pushed her in, giving one hard shove at her back. Stumbling forward, she took in her surroundings, a stone chamber with dark wooden furniture, a desk, a chair, a comfortable-looking couch facing the hearth where a low fire smoldered, and dominating the room, a very large bed with four posts, green drapes, and black silk sheets.

She only had about two seconds to reflect on how nice his bedroom was, and then his hands were on her. His mouth, too, pressed at her throat as he ripped her blouse open from behind, sending buttons flying everywhere.

"Professor!" she gasped, even as her cunt ached with desire from the rough treatment.

"Off," he growled, licking and nibbling at her throat. "Take everything off, Potter."

He tugged impatiently at her bra, and when she was apparently too slow for his liking, he grabbed her arms, forced them up, yanked her bra and her blouse off her, in two violent jerking motions. Then he divested her of her skirt just as quickly, and she was just standing in her knickers. He cupped her breasts, kneaded them, while he sucked harder at her throat, definitely aiming to leave a bruise. One that would be visible, and that was against their rules, that could get them in so much trouble, but Harrie didn't tell him to stop.

He molded his hard chest over her back, wound a hand in her hair, pulled harshly, grinding the steel length of his cock into her arse with a slow roll of hips. She muffled her moan, squirming in need as he plucked at her nipple. His hand glided down, slid into her knickers, and he hissed at what he found there, her cunt dripping liquid arousal. Two fingers breached her, carelessly, a hard prodding that tore a groan from her.

"Good girl," Snape said, as he pumped into her, which was also unusual—he never praised her that early.

"Uh... fuck—"

He pressed the pads of his fingers against the most sensitive part of her, sending a jolt of raw heat through her nerves, then he ripped his hand away and brought it to her mouth, stuffing two fingers in past her lips. She sucked on them, getting a taste of her own musky scent. He forced them deeper, pushing her tongue down, grunting as he bit down on her neck. Her moan was barely audible, muffled by the digits in her mouth.

She already felt too hot, her pulse pounding in her ears, her cunt clenching and eager to be filled. Sessions with Snape were usually intense but short, whether they happened during the day or in the evening, and she recovered from them much quickly than from the threesomes—she had to, since there was no cuddling. But right now, with his bed in sight, she was pretty sure it wouldn't be a short thing. And she was wondering if she'd be able to stand at the end.

"I won't stop," he said, in a growl of a voice that went so very low. "Not unless you safeword. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

He unbuckled his belt, wrapped it around her wrists—oh, oh God—tightened it, giving one hard yank to the leather, and then he used it as a leash to lead her to his bed. Another yank pulled her forward, and she fell, face first into the sheets. The bed dipped as he joined her. He grabbed her by the hips, moved her until she was roughly in the center, ripped her knickers off, spread her legs, and slammed inside her, with no further foreplay. She squeaked as she was stretched by his thick cock, his length buried to the hilt.

He anchored a hand in her hair, made her arch her back, hunched over her like a possessive beast mounting its mate. He had disrobed with a spell, and his skin burned against hers. His next thrust knocked the breath out of her, so brutal the meaty thwack of his hips against her arse brought faint pain, and echoed loudly in the room.

"You're wetter than ever, you shameless slut," he said, biting her earlobe.

He moved in her with vicious purpose, thrusting forcefully, forcing her cunt to accept his throbbing cock. Despite how slick she was, rigid tension made her muscles taut, and her sex was fighting the intrusion, rippling hard every time he penetrated her fully.

"Do you like being in my bed, Potter? Is this what you wanted?"

He slapped her arse as he pumped into her. A tiny squeal escaped her, and she clenched around him, shuddering all over. His next thrust was harder, his cock dragging along her walls, sending fierce shockwaves of pleasure through her belly.

"Face down in the sheets and full of my cock?"

With a hoarse moan, she raised her hips, offering herself to him, her bound hands closing into trembling fists.

"Should have done this much earlier," he groaned.

"Why are you so—fuck—"

He had slammed so deep it felt like a live wire to her brain, her whole system jolted mercilessly, and she forgot all about her question. Especially when he did it again. Her eyes rolled back in her head, pleading mewls punched from her lips, stars exploding in her field of vision. Oh, fuck, that was exactly what she wanted. Being tied up in Snape's bed, held down, fucked like a bitch in heat, stuffed full of his cock while he whispered filthy things in her ear.

"You're mine," he snarled, biting her again, sucking another angry bruise at her throat.

His hips worked in tight snaps, their bodies merging with lewd smacks of skin, the flesh of her arse stinging from the repeated impacts. She barely registered the sensation, overshadowed as it was by the crippling pleasure that came with each plunge of his cock into her. Her core was burning, her orgasm building fast as she keened and let out strangled little cries between heaving breaths. She was drooling already, strands of saliva dripping down her chin.

It was all happening so quickly. Five minutes ago, she'd been in her common room, had no idea Snape would decide to completely derail the course of her evening. Would want to bring her into his bedroom, fuck her on his bed. She wanted to ask him why—oh, yes, that had been her question—but she couldn't focus enough to get her mouth to form words.

Her hands were clutching the sheets now, ripples of bliss pulsing in her cunt, stronger and stronger, and she was going to burst from it all if he kept going, if he kept fucking her that hard, like she had already come once, like she was loose for him and could take that kind of intensity.

"Ah, Snape, ah, ah—"

"Doesn't that feel good," he said, grunting, forcing her head back further. "Don't you love it when I split your tight little cunt with my cock?"

He emphasized the last word with a sort of grind inside her, putting heavy pressure right where she needed it, and she peaked with a surprised little hiccup, a lance of hot pleasure skewering her right in the abdomen. She shook and whined through the orgasm, squirting abundantly, drenching the bed with her fluids.

It was barely over that Snape was withdrawing from her, shifting behind her. She emitted a weak moan, wondering what he was doing.

"On your hands and knees," he ordered.

He hauled her up, half by her hair, half with an arm under her, across her chest. She braced herself on her bound hands, moaned when he spread her legs further. Then she was impaled on his length again, and again and again, and he was so hot inside her, his cock a searing brand that marked her from the inside. It was carving out its own place in her cunt, definitely where it belonged.

Now that she had come, she was even slicker inside, and she was taking him easily. He was holding her hard against him, his arms like a steel band across her torso, his fingers claws in her hair. Her scalp tingled with every jarring stroke, and she was making continuous noise, small whimpering gasps that tripped from her tongue.

"You're mine," he said, licking a slow path up her throat, to her ear, and down again, nipping her with soft bites along the way.

He kept up his harsh pace, pounding into her from behind, and that, at least, was usually the way it went. He never fucked her face-to-face. She wasn't sure why. She liked looking him in the eyes when he came down her throat, and she would have liked it even more when he spilled in her cunt.

"Say it, Potter. You're mine, say it."

"Uh..."

He gave a sharp jerk of his hips, bottoming out with a hoarse groan. The smack of skin stung, prickles of static spreading all over her body. She was going to end up with a red arse, and she'd have trouble sitting tomorrow. Or walking.

"Say it, you little slut," Snape snarled, pulling on her hair, hard enough to hurt.

"I'm... I'm yours..."

His chest rumbled, and he licked up her throat, the tip of his tongue teasing her skin.

"Professor," she added between two breathy whines. "Oh, yours—"

He sighed, mouthing at the junction of her neck and shoulder.

"Good girl."

She closed her eyes, as some desperate part of her glowed at the praise. She wanted to hear him say that, again and again. She wanted to look into his eyes while he said it.

He was caressing her now, one hand palming her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers, alternating between left and right, then stroking her sides, the globes of her arse, her thighs, everywhere he could reach. His fingers found her inner thighs, where she was so slick, and very sensitive. Tiny muscles twitched as he pressed his palm there in slow circles, massaging her. He switched the relentless rhythm of his fucking to something slower, but no less intense, going deep and staying there during long seconds.

Caught between the constant press of his hand and the overwhelming grind of his cock, she jerked and panted, sucking in large gulps of air, her head spinning.

"Such a good girl... my good girl..."

Yes, yes, she loved those words, whispered in her ear. But still, what was the reason for this sudden change in behavior?

"Why—"

Once more, she couldn't finish her sentence. His fingers were on her clit, rubbing it, making the swollen little nub pulse with violent pleasure, wrenching a sob from her throat as her body seized from raw sensation.

"You're dripping on my cock," he said, in a dark, low voice that sounded so perversely pleased.

He rocked inside her, striking at a spot that seemed connected to her clit, and burned with the need for release. She bit down on her lips, her whole body trembling.

"Mmm, I can feel that slutty little cunt tightening around my prick... You're so close... You're going to come on my cock again, aren't you?"

He pinched her clit, hard. She arched her back with a howl, her vision whirling white as everything fucking detonated. Thrashing, bucking, her body wracked by wild tremors, her cunt spasming in rhythmic clenches, she soared through that second climax, entirely at Snape's mercy. He held her in place while she fell apart around his cock, and he fucked faster into her, even as she squirted with each quaking pulse, drenching him with her fluids.

She was barely aware of the noise she was making, wanton moans and euphoric squeaks, barely aware of what her body was doing, squirming against Snape, her feet kicking, and he was saying something, right against her ear, a stream of hot words, good girl, you're doing so well for me, Merlin, you feel so good, all while his fingers were still stroking her clit.

Had she had a question? Something to say to him?

No, there was nothing.

Nothing but absolute ecstasy, steamrolling over her, leaving her a blubbering mess.

She collapsed face-first into the sheets, her limbs weak, her throat burning, her eyes stinging.

Collapsed, and moaned again, a faint vocalization that wasn't really audible.

"What was that, Potter? Were you thanking me for the orgasm?"

"Mmm-nnnn..."

"You're making a puddle on my bed, filthy little girl."

He slapped her arse, and she felt the blow resonate through every cell, felt her cunt quiver like it still didn't have enough of his cock. Oh no, she wanted more. Unable to string two words together, to even think beyond 'Snape' and 'cock' and 'bed', and she. Wanted. More.

She was drooling on the soft sheets, a wet spot spreading under her cheek. There was a rhythmic noise beyond her, and it was... it was Snape's hips, colliding into her arse as he rode her hard. His cock left and returned, left and returned, and she was so open for him, and so wet, welcoming every lunge.

"Something you want, Potter?" he inquired as he leaned over her, his lips skimming her ear.

"Snape—Snape—"

"That's not what I want to hear."

He groaned, withdrew, moved one of her legs, shoved back in, the angle different, his cock reaching deeper. She mewled his name, and came, a small, fleeting orgasm that made her convulse twice and drool much more. Mouth open, legs open, her brain pillaged by pleasure, her body a sheath for his cock, she choked on nothing, spiraling to pieces.

"Gnnn-h... fu—fuck, ah..."

"Still not what I want to hear."

A hot lick at her ear, his tongue slipping in.

"Where are you, Potter?"

"Your... bed..."

"Mmm." A thrust, slow, with a deep grind at the end. "And who is fucking you?"

"You are..." she gasped, her hands clinging to the sheets, her cunt gripping his cock.

"So who do you belong to?"

"You... I—belong to you—"

"That's right. I own this cunt."

Another thrust, sharper, forcing a whimper from her aching throat.

"This mouth..." he said, and his hand was pulling at her hair, angling her head, his lips taking hers in a searing kiss.

She kissed him back, blindly, clumsily. When he drew back, she saw his eyes, two dark chips of obsidian burning with impossible fire. Those weren't Snape's eyes. Not the Snape she knew.

"What—"

He pulled out, flipped her onto her back, thrust back in, lying down on top of her. He pinned her bound wrists above her head, flattening her against the bed with his weight, and he rutted inside her with harsh, quick thrusts. The pistoning of his hips was ruthless, and with it came waves of shivers, pricking at her skin, ice-cold, fiery-hot, both at once, continuous little tremors shaking her from the inside out.

She was crushed.

Impaled.

His.

Her cunt fluttered with pleasure, with painful twinges too, deep where his cock rubbed and pressed, her entire pelvis one aching throb.

He was looking at her, his face above hers, and his eyes—deepest, darkest—his eyes—

Why was he looking at her like that? Was this jealousy? Had Remus said something to him?

"Mine," he said, in a feral growl.

The tempo of his hips increased. The bed squeaked and creaked under them as he slammed forward, vicious thrust after vicious thrust.

"Yours," she tried to say, but it came out as some vowels and consonants smashed together in a garbled moan.

His mouth came down upon hers, devouring. He shuddered and groaned, one hand holding her at the hips, blunt nails digging in hard, the other over his belt at her wrists, and he ground into her, in stuttering jerks of his hips. His tongue swept in her mouth, he caught her moans and whines, drinking them in. She felt him go rigid against her. A snarl, a tremble, and, hilted as deep as possible, he released hot ropes of cum into her, flooding her cunt with wet heat.

"Take it, fuck, take it..."

Yes, she'd take—everything—and more, more...

"Snape," she murmured, near the end of his orgasm.

"Potter," he groaned back.

His mouth moved to her throat. He licked her there, over the blossoming hickeys he'd given her. His full weight was on her, crushing her to the mattress. She breathed in little gasps, her entire body one limp puddle. She had no strength left. Barely any thoughts left.

After some time, one minute, maybe two, he leaned away from her. Withdrew, and his cum leaked from her cunt, in a slow, steady drip. He made her spread her legs, looked down at her sex, at the result of that brutal fucking. Her inner thighs were probably all red from the friction, and her cunt was his, fucked full of cum. Couldn't be more his.

It had to be possessiveness, she thought as she surveyed his face. Sweat upon his brow, emotion stamped across his face, flaring in his eyes, all so unSnape. A savage display that made him look like a beast. Well, act like one, too.

Without warning, he flipped her again, back to her belly. Her head spun, her heart racing wildly in her chest. She closed her eyes and let her head rest into the sheets, half-dazed.

His hands wandered over her. Down her back, along her waist, her thighs. Her arse. He nudged her legs apart, dipped two fingers into her cunt, massaging her from the inside, in purposeful grinding circles. Her hips twitched, vague need awakened once more. Heat, heat.

She sighed, moaned.

He crawled over her, breathing hard, his body volcanic-hot on her.

"Potter," he growled, "let me... let me—"

He stroked her arse, palm cupping one arsecheek, his thumb sliding against her anus.

"Let me have you there... Let me fuck your arse..."

His voice vibrating through her, hoarse, raw.

"Please... Please, let me..."

Very desperate, very real begging. Words she would never have thought she'd hear from Snape. Words that he had probably never even said before in his life.

"I'll make it so good... Potter.. Let me..."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, yes..."

He sighed, some deep shuddering sound twined with a rasp, and his fingers slipped along the crease of her arse, prodding, rubbing. He murmured a spell, right into her ear. There was a warm, slick sensation in her insides, and she recognized the lubrication spell he used on her when both him and Remus fucked her at the same time. Only this time, it hadn't been aimed at her cunt.

She hummed, trying to convey her need. He inserted the tip of a finger in her, pressing in slowly, her muscles giving way for him. Then more, still so slowly, the finger entering her fully. He stretched her gently, pumping in and out with precise strokes, added a second digit, and she wasn't sure why, but it already felt good, being penetrated anally by Snape's fingers. Her body sang, opening for him. She writhed in the sheets, sweat dripping down her sides, making small, wanton noises.

"How does it feel, taking my fingers there?" Snape said, rotating his wrists, plunging his fingers deeper with a slick, lewd sound. "Are you enjoying it, Potter? Oh, yes... Such a good girl, letting me have her virgin arse..."

He worked her hole faster, until he had three fingers in her, plunging deep in smooth thrusts. She started to rock back into the motions, pleasure echoing in her cunt, blazing heat running in her veins again. The fingers withdrew, and before she could miss them, he replaced them with the head of his prick, and pushed forward.

And didn't stop.

With a ragged groan, he slid into her, his thick cock filling her like never before, until her head spun from the sensation.

"Fuck, so tight..."

He was throbbing inside her, seated so deep. Her arse spasmed around him, and he groaned again.

"Such greedy holes you have. I'm going to fill this one with cum too."

She made a tiny, slurred noise, an attempt at saying his name. He braced one hand near her head, and moved. He fucked her in long, strong thrusts, set to a measured pace. His repeated intrusions burned a bit at first, a mild sting despite how well-lubricated her arse was. Then after a few pumps, everything was smoother, and her body yielded to him.

Small, pitiful cries issued from her lips as she quaked under him, her wrists straining against the belt. It felt thrilling to be here, in Snape's bed, getting her arse reamed by his cock. She bit at the sheets, drowning under all the stimuli, the heat, the unusual pressure, the pleasure building every time his engorged cock filled her.

When he dropped a hand between her thighs and played with her clit, she became a moaning, panting mess. He slammed deeper, faster, his breath hot on her neck, growling in time with the wild beat of his hips.

"That's it, good girl... Come with my prick in your arse."

The hard cramping in her cunt signaled an incoming orgasm, her muscles roiling. She was hurtling toward another peak, and this one would devastate her. Snape was relentless, pushing her toward that edge, his fingers rolling little tight circles over her clit, his cock driving into her arse.

"Come for me, Harrie... Come."

It hit her in an odd, pulsing way, starting from some point deep in her empty cunt and spreading like a lightning strike, along every vein, every nerve. Instant, excruciating bliss. She wailed, wetness gushing out of her cunt, intense spasms wracking her. She burned, she soared, she was whole and she was shattered, and most of all she was with Snape.

"Oh, yes," he said.

He snapped his hips, fucking her through her orgasm, in ferocious strokes, harder and harder, until he abruptly stilled. He groaned against her throat, a gasping, obscene sound, and a powerful tremor ran through his frame as he spent himself in her arse in thick, hot spurts. She felt it, a rush of warmth deep inside her, and she moaned and moaned and came again, squirting all over the bed, crying out, her quivering body overstimulated.

Snape said something—she had no idea what. He might as well have been speaking in French. She quaked through the aftershocks, and went limp in the sheets, her face half-resting against the smooth silk, her body cradled by all that softness.

She floated on a cloud, adrift, her mind blank.

Smiling.

Exhausted, so weak, but smiling.

She registered movement around her, noises. Blinking, she realized that Snape wasn't on her anymore.

"Mmm?" she emitted, wondering where he'd gone.

She didn't want him to leave. He couldn't leave. Not after that.

"Mmmmm," she said again, with more urgency.

His face appeared in her field of vision.

"Shh," he said, in a low, gentle voice. "Shhh, you're alright. You did so well, Potter. Such a good girl."

He had his wand in hand, and he slowly swished it from side to side. She vaguely recognized the motions. It was a cleaning spell, but not the quick version. He took care of her face first, vanishing the drool, and the tears, and the snot, then he moved down her body, the magic tingling pleasantly as it washed over her skin. Oh, she was... so sore. But the magic was gentle between her legs too, a warm, cleansing wave.

"Snape," she managed to rasp.

He was close, and fully dressed, and his eyes were glinting with something she didn't understand. Her hands were free. She hadn't noticed until now.

"You're safe," he said, setting his wand down. "I promise you, you'll be safe."

She grasped at his wrist, wanting him closer. He leaned toward her, kissed her. On the forehead, close to her scar.

"You'll be safe," he repeated.

She buried her face in his chest, sighed, nuzzling closer.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Something had to be wrong for him to be acting like this.

"Sleep," he said.

"Here?"

"Yes."

"Okay," she said.

She was too tired for anything else, and still floating in a happy, warm daze.

She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

*

He held Potter against him, listening to her slow, steady breaths, feeling her heart beat in her chest. As he stroked her hair, she sighed and nestled closer, muttering something in her sleep. Perhaps his name.

She seemed so small here in his bed, pressed against his larger frame. A scrawny, lithe girl, and he was reminded of how young she was. Sixteen. Sixteen and a half, if one wanted to be generous.

Too young for him, or Lupin, though it was far too late for those kind of thoughts, and the vague splinters of guilt he once felt never stood a chance against what she stirred up in him.

Too young to die.

"So you're telling me that you've been raising her like a pig for slaughter?"

"Yes. Yes, unfortunately, there is no other way. Harrie must die."

He smoothed his palm over her cheek, looking at her face for a moment. Memorizing it. He knew what she looked like when she was bored, when she was angry, when she was horny, when she was coming on his cock. He hadn't known what her face looked like when she was asleep until this moment. Serene, content, and utterly relaxed.

She trusted him enough to fall asleep in his bed.

He tucked her in, smoothing the blanket over her, took one last look at her before he left the room. He would keep her safe. At any cost.

If Dumbledore didn't care for the life of the girl, perhaps his other master would.

It was late, but not so late that the lights were not on at Malfoy Manor. Severus walked up the gravel path, his right hand flexing at his side. Potter's face refused to leave his head. He Occluded firmly, burying the true reasons of his actions deep behind his walls.

He had come here because he was loyal to the Dark Lord. That was the only reason. That thought set firmly at the front of his mind, he entered the house.

The Dark Lord held court in the drawing room, where a fire roared in the hearth, flickering shadows creeping along the walls. Severus approached the throne-like chair, bowed deeply.

"I have uncovered crucial information about Potter, my Lord."

"What is it, Severus?"

He looked into the red eyes, and spoke the words that would change everything.

"She's a Horcrux."

Chapter Text

Harrie woke from a dream where she was hiding in the folds of Snape's robes, kept warm and safe in the large swathes of black fabric.

She blinked sluggishly. Her body was warm, heavy. Too heavy. And so sore. Between her legs, everything hurt and ached. Her muscles felt wrung out, too, and she had cramps in places she had never had cramps before.

Odd.

Had she been injured? Was she in the infirmary, resting after some accident had befallen her?

No, the bed was much too soft. Actually, it was softer than her own, or Remus'. She didn't know this bed.

And she wasn't alone in it.

Someone was cuddling her, from behind, a firm body pressed up against her.

Snape.

She remembered now.

It was Snape, and he had fucked her in his bed, and let her sleep here. With him. His behavior had been entirely inexplicable last night. He'd been rough, and then he had begged her to let him have her arse, and then he'd been even rougher, and it had ended with soft aftercare and a cuddle. It made no sense at all. Except if...

"You think I'm going to die," she stated plainly.

"What makes you say that?"

His voice was normal today. Nothing like the desperate rasp of last night.

"Remus only agreed to fuck me when I told him I didn't want to die a virgin. That was the argument that made him change his mind. Sometimes I think that's the only reason he's fucking me at all. Because I don't have a future. So that's your reasoning, too. It's fun, and there won't be any consequences, because I'll be dead soon."

"Foolish as ever, Potter."

He grabbed her chin and made her look at him. In the bleary morning light of the room, his severe face loomed over her, his hair coming down in a dark curtain around them. There was no wildness to him today, no feral glint in his gaze. He was calm, composed. Back to the Snape she knew.

"Listen to me. You are not going to die. I promise you that."

"Then why are you fucking me?"

"Are you looking for compliments, or did I fuck your brain cells out of you? I am fucking you because I enjoy it. I enjoy your tight cunt wrapped around my prick, and I enjoy the way you swallow all my cum. I even enjoyed the gripping clutch of your arse last night."

"You begged me for it," she said, smiling at him. "You begged, Snape."

"I did."

He let his eyes wander down, to the rest of her body. Her naked body. He was dressed in his usual dark robes, but she was entirely naked.

"And I enjoyed spreading your arse open with my prick and coming deep in there. Leaving you leaking. I will do it again."

He was trying to distract her with this dirty talk, she could tell.

"Why were you like that last night? Something's going on with you. What is it?"

"You're in my bed. That's what's going on."

"Liar. Something's changed."

His gaze sharpened. He bent his head lower, stroking a thumb over her lips.

"Yes, you're right. I want more from you, Potter. I was trying to take it slow, so I wouldn't frighten you. But I want more."

She was completely incapable to tell if he was lying or not. For now, she decided to act as if she believed him.

"I wasn't frightened. I liked everything we did last night."

"Did you?" he said in a soft, silky tone. "And how do you feel now?"

She shifted, grimacing at the thorough ache between her legs.

"Yes, you're very sore, aren't you," he mused.

His smile felt a bit like a taunt.

"I have a cream for that," he said. "And since I'm feeling very generous, I will even apply it for you. Spread your legs."

"Anything you want, Professor."

She smiled back, feeling very confident. He had begged her. He wasn't as in control as he pretended to be. She could get him to beg again if she wanted.

He summoned a jar into his hand, dipped two fingers into the white cream it contained, applied it to her inner thighs. The substance was cold, slightly oily. It felt very nice on her skin, especially with the way Snape was working it in, massaging her muscles. He had started with two fingers, quickly switched to using his whole palm, stroking up and down her thighs.

Then his hand inched toward her sex. She spread her legs further, sighed when he touched her folds. He carefully applied the cream there, smirking at her reaction. She was getting wet, just from the soft brushing of his fingers, and his proximity.

"Do try to focus. This isn't for your pleasure."

In immediate contradiction to his words, his finger grazed her clit, circled around it, teasingly. He gathered more cream, spreading it on her cunt, in more caresses that jolted little spikes of heat in her belly. She squirmed as his smirk grew.

"Really, Potter? It doesn't take much with you, does it?"

"What about you?" she said, and she slid a hand between his legs, where, yes, he was hard.

She stroked the shape of his cock through his trousers, squeezed him appraisingly. He tssked.

"Hands off my cock."

"When do you ever say that?"

"I'm saying it now. Hands off, Potter. Or do I have to tie you up so you'll behave?"

She squeezed him harder, canting her hips up into his touch.

"Naughty little slut."

He did it without his wand, with a simple flick of his wrist. Her hands were yanked above her head and pinned down to the bed, held there by his magic. She squirmed again, simply to enjoy the feeling of being restrained.

"You will be still," he hissed.

He sank two fingers inside her just as he was saying that, and even though they were coated in that cream, there was still a mild sting. She moaned, the sound so erotic she blushed immediately.

"I've bruised you," he said, gently rubbing the healing salve along her the walls of her cunt. "I made you bleed. And still you want more?"

"You're the one two fingers deep inside my cunt."

"For medicinal purposes."

Then he teased her clit, for anything but medicinal purposes, and she moaned again, her thighs clenching. He speared her with a cold glare.

"If you absolutely have to come, you will do so silently."

"Yes, sir."

He continued his ministrations, rubbing more cream on her slick, puffed folds, pressing his thumb over her clit in tight circles, while she bit down on her lips and rocked her hips, chasing pleasure. Heat coiled in her cunt, quickly. Very quickly.

She clamped down on his fingers, as vague, small cramps pulsed in her lower belly. It hurt a bit, and then she reached her peak, and it hurt a lot, holy hell, what was that? Her abdominal muscles, sore from coming too much, too hard, protested vigorously at the contraction of the orgasm. Mixed with the bliss, it was a novel experience. She cried out, her legs shaking, then sagged onto the bed with a sigh.

"I seem to remember having asked for silence, Potter."

"It hurts because you fucked me too hard last night," she complained, glaring at him.

"Indeed."

He tapped two fingers against her clit, and she groaned at the overstimulation, yanking on her hands, which didn't budge. When he did it again, she snapped her teeth at him. And then a third time, and she said it.

"Quidditch."

He removed his hands from her, removed the binds of his magic, leaned back.

"You wanted me to use the safeword," she said as she sat up.

"I want you to learn your limits."

He Accioed a small vial from a drawer in his desk, placed it in her hand.

"Drink this, now."

She did, with no protest.

"Good," he said, snatching the vial back from her. "Your clothes are on the chair."

It also hurt when she got up. Then she looked down at her body, and—

"Bloody hell."

She had bruises everywhere. On her thighs, on her chest, down the sides of her ribs, at her throat. Probably between her arsecheeks, too.

"It looks like I was assaulted by a hippogriff," she commented.

Something in his eyes gleamed as he looked her over.

"Glamour them if you'd rather not announce to the whole castle what you did last night."

"If?"

"Or let everyone see that you like it rough. Your choice."

"There is the exact shape of your teeth right at my throat!"

"Not that anybody will be able to tell," he said in a purr.

Oh, he liked that. The idea that she was wearing his marks, and that she would flaunt them...

"Maybe I'll tell everyone," she said, lifting her chin in defiance.

"Please do, Potter. Tell everyone you're a slut. My slut."

She couldn't help but blush.

"I could, but then you'd be in real trouble, Professor. What do you think would be the Prophet's headline? Severus Snape caught in scandalous sexual liaison with the Girl-Who-Lived?"

"Perverted professor turns the Girl-Who-Lived into the Girl-Who-Spreads-Her-Legs."

"...you've thought about this."

He gave her a cold smirk.

She put on her clothes, wincing at how sore her entire body was. And she had Quidditch training tomorrow. She'd had to pretend to be too sick for it.

"Tonight's threesome is off," Snape said. "No sex for twenty-four hours at least."

"I could take it."

He gave an audible sigh.

"Didn't we just had a talk about your limits?"

"My mouth isn't sore," she pointed out. "I could suck you both at the same time."

"No," he said in a way that left no room for arguing. "Now leave. You have class in twenty minutes."

"Can I come here tonight anyway?"

And there, he hesitated. His jaw moved, as if he were swallowing back words he didn't want to say.

"Why would I bother with you if I can't shove my way into one of your holes, Potter?"

"Same reason you were cuddling me."

She didn't know yet what that was, but there was a reason, and a good one. One he kept hidden. Right now, he was looking at her like he wasn't really seeing her.

"You can come if you wish to," he finally said, in a dismissive tone.

"Thank you. For the cream. And the potion. And last night."

"You shouldn't thank me, Potter."

She smiled, and left.

In the Great Hall, she slid in next to Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table to grab a quick breakfast. The moment her arse touched the bench, two things happened.

One, she winced, because even with the cream Snape had slathered everywhere, it still hurt a bit.

Two, Ron gave her a big bright smile, and a knowing look.

"So," he said. "Who is it?"

"Not telling."

"Well. They clearly want everyone to know you're taken," Ron said, staring at her throat.

"What do you mea—" Hermione began, and then stopped short when she spotted the bite mark Harrie hadn't concealed. "Oh," she said, a red flush creeping on her cheeks.

"I had a fun night," Harrie said, brazenly. "And there'll be more."

"Good for you!" Ron said, still smiling.

The day proceeded normally. By the time Harrie was sitting in her first class of the morning, her cramps had subsided. There remained only a vague ache between her legs, because Snape had been really rough last night.

He behaved like an utter arse in Potions, hovering near her, criticizing her brew in details. It had been a long time since he'd been this horrible to her. She could feel her face flush from anger, while she swallowed back her angry retorts.

"Yes, Professor," she said instead. "Sorry, sir, I'll do better."

He sneered at her.

"You'd be hard-pressed to do worse. And for Merlin's sake, Potter, use a glamour. No one wants to be staring at the evidence of your wild night."

The fucking nerve of him. A couple of her classmates actually gasped at the remark. It was so out of place coming from a professor.

"Yes, sir," she said, with a Fuck off tone.

"Personally, I think he's just jealous you had a good time," Ron said after class. "When was the last time that old bat got laid, do you think? At least last century."

"He wasn't alive last century, Ron," Hermione said with an eyeroll.

"I'm just saying, he's not seeing a lot of action. His bits have probably shriveled."

"Let's not talk about Snape's bits," Harrie said.

His bits, which were perfectly fine, and felt so good inside her, and fuck, now she was getting wet picturing his stupid cock.

The last class of the day was DADA. Remus immediately clocked the bite at her throat. She saw his nostrils flare, his features tensing. He smoothed that reaction away with a smile as he invited everyone to sit and get their textbooks out. He conducted his class normally, but when it ended, he asked Harrie to stay behind.

Closing the door with a flick of his wand, he turned to her, concern written all over his face.

"I'm fine," she preemptively told him.

"What is he thinking, leaving marks on you like that?"

She wouldn't tell him that she enjoyed it. Or that he probably enjoyed it even more.

"I told him it was fine, and it is. The biting isn't what concerns me. He behaved, um, oddly last night."

"What do you mean, oddly?"

"I mean he cuddled me."

Remus made a noise of surprise at the back of his throat, his eyes widening a bit.

"He cuddled you? Really?"

"I was as surprised as you are. Did he say anything to you? Did... something change, I don't know? Something must have changed."

"Not that I'm aware," Remus said. He rubbed his chin. His eyes kept coming back to the bite mark. "It's possible, I imagine, that Severus is jealous of the tenderness he's witnessed between us, and now wants to offer you that as well. But Harrie, you know that if at any time, you want this to stop, it will."

"I know. I used my safeword this morning. Snape stopped immediately."

Remus nodded.

"I would never leave you alone with him if I thought he wouldn't respect your consent," he said.

"There's really been nothing new at all? No mission with the Order?"

"No."

So it was something to do with Voldemort, then. Something Snape would never tell her, would probably never tell anyone. Except Dumbledore, maybe. She had a meeting with him after dinner, so he could show her more of Voldemort's past. She decided she'd ask him then. And then she would leave the Headmaster's office, and go straight to Snape's bed.

"You should rest tonight," Remus said, coming closer, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Take a relaxing bath. Do you know the password for the Prefects' Bathroom on the fifth floor?"

"Yeah, I know it. But I think I'll stay in bed."

She didn't specify whose bed. She wasn't sure how Remus would take it if she told him she wouldn't have minded sleeping in Snape's bed every night. Not that she would have been satisfied with only Snape. She wanted Remus too. Her ideal bed had both wizards in it, with her in the middle.

"Should you need anything, you know where to find me," Remus said.

She stole a kiss from him, right there in his classroom, pressing her lips to his. He was careful about any displays of affection in public places since Snape had caught them, didn't go beyond simple touches on the shoulder, so it felt a bit thrilling, that kiss.

After that, she spent a couple of hours in the Gryffindor common room, settled in an armchair in front of the fire, chatting with Hermione and Ron. It was an easy, inconsequential conversation, about their grades, and the new jokes products the twins were selling, and who would win the next Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

At some point, they were joined by Lavender. She dropped into an available armchair, dragged it closer to them.

"So," she said, shooting a sly look toward Harrie, "who is it?"

"She won't tell," Ron said.

"Oh, come on, Harrie. Give us a hint. Boy or girl? First letter of their name."

Harrie shook her head.

"Are you in love or is it a friends with benefits situation?" Lavender went on, undeterred.

Harrie hadn't thought about putting a label on it so far. A threesome with her professors, but they weren't a couple with three people, because Remus and Snape could barely stand each other, and they held no sexual desire for each other—well, Snape didn't for Remus, she was less sure about the other way around. And then, friends? She was friends with Remus. What was she to Snape? An annoyance with a set of tight, wet holes?

"In love," she said, since it made everything much simpler. "Totally in love."

"Oh!" Lavender said, clearly not expecting that answer. "Yeah, better to keep it a secret, then. Especially if they don't like being in the public eye. But I hadn't realized you were this adventurous, Harrie. Showing up to class with a giant hickey and no glamour over it."

"Living life to the fullest," Harrie said.

Lavender nodded, grinning.

"Better hide it next time, though, or Snape will have a fit, and you'll be in detention for a month."

"He can't put me in detention for a hickey," Harrie said.

Especially not one he himself had put there.

"I wouldn't push your luck," Hermione said, with a little frown. "He'll take any excuse to punish you."

Well, that might have been true, but her punishment would be a spanking, and then getting told to sit on his cock, so she wouldn't be hiding that hickey any time soon. Plus, he liked it. She imagined him sitting at his desk while lecturing the class, staring at his bite mark on her throat, getting hard in his trousers. Then the class would end, and he'd order her to stay, would drag her to her knees, hold her head in place, and use her throat for his pleasure. Remus would come in, and he wouldn't be able to resist. He'd get down behind her, flip up her skirt, pull her knickers aside, and fill her with his thick cock...

"...Harrie? Harrie?"

"Mm?"

"She's thinking about them," Lavender said, smirking.

Them, as in she wasn't sure if they were talking about a boy or a girl. She could never have guessed how right she was, using the plural pronoun.

"Yeah," Harrie said with a smile. "Them."

At dinner, she threw sly glances toward Snape. He ignored her, while Remus smiled the few times their eyes met. They were sitting next to each other again, and Remus exchanged a few words with Snape at some point, who then ignored him the rest of the meal, chatting instead with McGonagall.

Dumbledore wasn't there, but that wasn't unusual. On the days he asked Harrie to come to his office, she rarely saw him at meal times. She figured he was too busy scouring through his memories in his Pensieve, selecting which one he would show her. Or perhaps his hand was causing him pain. It looked worse every time Harrie saw it, without the glamour he kept on it while in public.

She finished her treacle tart, stood up.

"Dumbledore's expecting me," she said in answer to Ron's inquisitive look.

"Right, one more secret meeting. See you later, then."

As she left the Great Hall, she glanced back one last time. Snape was looking right at her, dark gaze steady. She lifted her chin slightly, then turned away. Walking down the corridor, she wondered if he had behaved horribly today to dissuade her from coming tonight. Like that would stop her.

"Butterscotch," she told the gargoyle.

It slid aside, and Harrie ascended the spiral staircase. In the office, silver instruments ticked idly on the shelves lining the walls, while Fawkes was sleeping on his perch. Dumbledore sat at his desk, looking over at a thick piece of parchment.

"Ah, Harrie," he greeted her, smiling kindly. "Please, sit." He set down the parchment, vanished it with a wave of his good hand. "How was your day?"

"Fine," she said with a shrug.

She hadn't hidden the bite mark. She didn't care if Dumbledore saw it. She had the right to live her life as she wanted, the right to be more than the prophesied girl who had to kill Voldemort. She was someone with thoughts and feelings and needs, not just a weapon for the Light side. Sometimes she felt as if that was all Dumbledore saw in her, and a small part of her wanted to scream at him that she was so much more. Another part of her knew that wasn't true, that Dumbledore cared for her, that he was just forced to make hard choices because they were at war.

Still, she resented the fact that he withheld a lot of information from her, only telling her what was convenient, and what he deemed she was allowed to know. Even those private meetings about Voldemort's past were spaced out, with sometimes weeks between them. Why couldn't he just show her everything at once? Plus, he still hadn't told her the true reason behind all this.

She'd seen Voldemort's grandfather, his uncle, his mother, the orphanage he'd grown up in, how he had stolen Helga Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket from Hepzibah Smith, the time he had come back to Hogwarts to ask for the DADA teacher position, but she had no idea how it all connected, and why Voldemort had wanted to have the Founders' items as some sort of trophies.

Perhaps Dumbledore would explain everything today.

"Lemon drop?" he offered, extending the silver dish full of candies toward her.

"No, thank you."

She hated lemon drops. He still offered her one every time. With a hum, he set down the dish, took a candy for himself, popped it into his mouth.

"Now, Harrie, the memory I'll be showing you today is a very important one. Possibly the most important of all the memories you've seen so far."

"Is it one of yours again?"

"No. That memory concerns Voldemort when he was still a student at Hogwarts, in his sixth year. I collected it from Professor—"

Dumbledore suddenly appeared to choke. His mouth stayed open soundlessly, his body jerking. He brought a hand to his throat, the good one, fingers clawing at his beard, while his wizened hand twitched and spasmed.

"Professor!" Harrie cried out.

He toppled off his chair, hit the floor with a muted thump. She ran to him, dropping to her knees at his sides. His lips were turning blue, his face blanching. He weakly grabbed her by the arm, his eyes meeting hers for a second, before they rolled back in his head, and he slumped against her. Harrie cursed.

Was he actually choking on the candy? Had it been poisoned? Fuck, fuck, she didn't have a bezoar on her! Panic racing in her veins, she darted a frantic gaze around the office, hoping she'd find something that could help, anything, how could this happen anyway, wasn't Dumbledore invicible...?

There was a flare of red feathers, and with a loud squawk, Fawkes landed on Dumbledore's chest. He tilted his head at the wizard, squawked again.

"Do something!" Harrie told him.

At the same time, she grabbed her wand, cast her Patronus, sending it to Snape.

"Dumbledore's been injured," she whispered as a message. "His office, come quickly."

He was still breathing, though any exhale came out in a hiss. His lips were slanting toward purple, and she could see some eye movement behind his closed eyelids.

The portraits on the wall were starting to wake up, some commenting on the situation.

"The Headmaster attacked in his own office? Well, I never expected this!"

"What happened, girl?" Phineas Black asked her in a harsh tone.

Harrie looked up at the dish of lemon drops on the desk.

It had to be poison.

"Why aren't you crying?" she said to Fawkes, who stood on Dumbledore's chest, beady black eyes holding a mournful light, beak closed.

"A Phoenix will not waste his tears if he knows they won't have any effect," Phineas said. "What do they teach these days at Hogwarts? A first year should know that."

"Shut up," Harrie said.

She held Dumbledore's hand, listened to him breathe, hoping his chest would keep rising and falling, hoping Snape would know what to do, hoping this was nothing, nothing at all, that he'd be back to normal tomorrow, that it was just a simple misstep that would have no lasting consequences.

The door opened, and Snape arrived in a swoop of black fabric. In an instant, he was kneeling next to Harrie, his wand pointed at Dumbledore's chest.

"Poison," Harrie said, relieved that Snape was here.

He'd know what to do. He'd fix this.

"Support his head," he instructed tersely.

He cast a spell that washed over Dumbledore in a wave of light blue, then reached into his pocket and shoved the bezoar he'd retrieved down the Headmaster's throat. Dumbledore coughed, groaned, but remained unconscious.

Harrie realized McGonagall was there too, standing near the desk. She looked up at the older witch, and the fear she witnessed on her face twisted her heart.

"He'll be alright," Harrie said. "Won't he?"

Snape had pressed his lips together, and he was casting another spell, silently. He gave no indication as to what the result was, motioned for Harrie to get up.

"Minerva, to the infirmary. Potter, what happened?"

McGonagall levitated the Headmaster with a swish of wand, and started guiding his limp body toward the door. Fawkes flapped his wings, gave a mournful thrill, and flew after Dumbledore. Harrie made to follow, instinctively. Snape's hand gripped her shoulder.

"You can do nothing more for him. What happened?"

"The lemon drops," she said, meeting his eyes. "They're poisoned."

He conjured a glass jar, made the lemon drops stream through the air and fill the container, the yellow candies settling in with clinking sounds. Bottling the jar shut, he shrank it and put it into his pocket.

"It's Draco," Harrie said.

"Do you have any proof?"

His arched eyebrow and the cold tone of the question made her bristle.

"I don't need proof, I know it's him! And you know it's him, too! Go on, look me in the eyes and tell me he doesn't have the Dark Mark."

His gaze didn't waver.

"I would advise you to think before throwing around baseless accusations, Potter. Now, go to your common room, and stay there."

"But—"

"Albus will receive the best of care at Poppy's hands. Whether you're present or not will make no difference. Go."

"And what will you do?"

"I'll analyze the poison and try to find a cure."

Yeah, she couldn't help with that. She hated feeling useless.

"And Potter, do try to keep this development a relative secret, at least until tomorrow."

"Fine," she huffed.

She started turning away, but he grasped her by the chin and made her look at him.

"You didn't touch any of those lemon drops, did you?" he said in a much softer tone.

"No. I hate lemon drops."

"Mm. So do I."

He released her, tilted his head toward the door, without taking his eyes off her. She left the Headmaster's office, walked to Gryffindor Tower, a quiet sense of doom hanging upon her. How could Dumbledore have been poisoned? He'd been such a rock-solid presence in her life she had always considered him sort of invincible. He was the most powerful wizard alive. Voldemort feared him! Even the curse on his hand hadn't slowed him down much, and it looked really nasty.

But this...

She muttered the password to the Fat Lady, bent down to enter the common room. Hermione was facing the entrance from her seat a few meters away, and immediately frowned, clearly wondering why Harrie was coming back so quickly. Ron turned, his face showing concern. Harrie motioned for her friends to follow, and they huddled into one of the alcoves, where they could talk without being heard by anyone else.

"Dumbledore's been poisoned."

"Poisoned?!" Ron exclaimed, right as Hermione said, "Is he gonna be alright?"

"I don't know. Snape's looking into it, but Fawkes couldn't help, so... I really don't know."

Both Ron and Hermione looked quite glum, taking the news hard. There was an extended beat of silence.

"Draco did it," Harrie said.

Hermione gave a small sigh, while Ron looked away.

"Harrie... We know your theory, but I don't think Draco would—"

"Have you looked at him lately? He's all jumpy, and he's got bags under his eyes as if he hasn't slept in weeks. The other day he knocked over an entire row of glass tubes in Potions. He's not well, and he's hiding something."

"His father's in Azkaban," Hermione said. "That's got to take a toll on him."

"I mean, even if he is a Death Eater," Ron said, "and that's a big if, how could he manage to poison Dumbledore? With a poison that Fawkes can't heal? He doesn't have the resources to pull that off."

"He found a cursed necklace, I'm sure he could find some unknown poison."

Her friends remained unconvinced.

Harrie went to sleep early, kept turning and tossing in her bed. She pictured Dumbledore unconscious in the infirmary, and a small shiver snaked down her spine. It felt like her world had been upended. If she couldn't rely on Dumbledore anymore, if even him could be struck down... who could she trust?

Snape, her guts answered. Snape, and Remus.

She tried to sleep for another hour, two. She really did, but her mind was not cooperating, and she wanted... well, she needed... okay, she yearned for someone in bed with her. Slowly, she drew back her bed curtains, padded to her trunk, got her Cloak of Invisibility out, and slipped it over her head.

The corridors were deserted, shadows clinging to the walls, torches projecting haloed rings of magical light along her way. She hurried along, going down and down staircases, until the chill of the dungeons wrapped around her body, even through the cloak.

Her first knock on Snape's door received no response. Was he not in? Perhaps he was still in the infirmary. Perhaps he'd gone to talk to Draco...

She knocked again.

"Please," she whispered.

The door opened. She quickly got in, only removed the cloak once Snape had closed the door behind her.

"Were the words 'stay there' not clear enough for you, Potter?"

"I tried. Couldn't sleep."

She studied his face, found only a wall of cold disinterest. He was looking at her the way he did in class.

"I need someone to hold me," she said.

"You should have gone to Lupin, then."

She took a step toward him, set a hand on his chest. He didn't budge, eyes flicking down, considering her hand with no emotion.

"Did you find a cure?" she asked.

"No. It's not a poison I'm familiar with. Albus is in a coma, stable for now."

She gripped his robes, wishing he'd stop being so restrained. She had seen the real him. The one who begged to fuck her in the arse.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"So I'll cuddle you?" He smirked. "That's not all I'll do if you sleep in my bed, Potter. I'll fuck you, too. Is that what you want? You want to be a slut for your professor? Let me use your body while you're not even conscious? Wake up with a cunt full of cum, without even remembering how it got there?"

"Just cuddle me, and you can do whatever you want."

His eyes glinted, and she saw shades of the real him as his features shifted, lust creeping there.

"Careful, Potter. You're threading dangerous grounds."

"I trust you."

"You shouldn't," he said, and he gripped the back of her head and took her mouth in a demanding kiss.

She moaned, melting into him. He kissed her until she was breathless, until her mouth ached from the rough pressure and her lips were bruised. When he drew back, his eyes were twin dark abysses.

"Get in my bed, then," he said, voicing it like a challenge.

She headed for his bedroom, felt something lift off her shoulders when she stepped in. In here, it didn't matter that Dumbledore was sick, perhaps dying. In here, she felt safer than even in her own bed.

She nestled under the blanket, on the right side of the bed, set her head on the pillow. She wasn't expecting Snape to actually join her right now, but he did, changing into black pyjamas and climbing into bed with her. He settled next to her, and when she turned toward him and shuffled closer, until she was cuddled against his chest, he placed a hand at her hip and drew their lower bodies even closer.

"Good night," she mumbled.

"You might regret this."

"Mmm," she just said into his chest.

She had no trouble at all falling asleep.

*

Warmth at her back.

A weight on her, pinning her down.

Pressure between her legs, increasing steadily.

A burning heat, advancing in pulses, sliding in, retreating, sliding in again.

Harrie blinked, coming to consciousness in the dark. She took a slow breath, released it, awareness of her body trickling back in. Her head was resting on a soft pillow, cheek pressed into the silk fabric. She was lying face down, the heavy weight of a body on top of her. Her legs were spread, her arse bare, and...

Her cunt was full.

A thick cock was nestled there, stretching her to capacity, fucking her in slow thrusts. Slick, lewd sounds reached her ears, while she could feel just how wet she was. There was no resistance from her pliant body, which welcomed every drive in, coating the cock in more fluids, gripping every inch.

Snape was groaning, emitting a low moan every time he buried himself to the root. He moved in languid motions, his hips rolling, settling flush against her rump with soft smacks of flesh. She could feel his clothed chest rub against her back. He had tugged down her trousers and knickers just enough so he could have access to her cunt, hadn't disrobed himself.

Groans were not the only sounds he was making. His mouth was at her throat, pressed to the bite mark, and he was talking, whispering words against her skin.

"...such a good girl... always so wet for me..."

Half-licking the bruise, gently filling her again and again.

"...ready to take my cock at any time..."

His breath, hot and ragged, the rumble of his words, raspy, low, as he claimed her body.

"...little slut, sleeping through this..."

She moaned, pushed her hips back into him. He growled, slammed deep, hilting himself with a particularly brutal thrust.

"Awake, Potter?"

"Mmm."

"Tell me to stop," he said in her ear.

"Come in me," she replied, the words mingled with a moan.

"I already did. You didn't even wake up." He licked her ear, chuckled. "You took a hot load of cum in your sleep, and your greedy cunt loved it."

"Then... do it again."

He grunted, his thrusts picking up speed. His hard shaft prodded deliciously at her insides, dragging over her inner walls, the invasion so pleasurable she started whining and mewling uncontrollably. She clenched and unclenched around him, and he went faster, bracing a hand against the mattress to get more leverage.

"Yes... Snape, fuck, yes..."

He panted into her neck, his balls slapping against her sex on every stroke in, and sweet, harrowing pressure was building in her cunt, promising an explosive orgasm. His cock was entering her at the perfect angle, that thick cockhead brushing a sensitive spot of tangled nerves that throbbed with heat, sending lightning bolts of pleasure along her nerves.

"Tell me what you need, Potter," he rasped, his thrusts reaching a punishing pace now, and her arse would be bruised again, and sore, but she didn't care, Snape would make it all better in the morning.

"Come in, Professor. Come deep, and—nngggh—fill me—"

Her orgasm struck right then, and she crested at the top of the wave, a strangled cry leaving her lips, her cunt releasing a rush of wetness. Snape made a sort of feral noise, snapped his hips harder, plowing into her.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Fuck, aaaah..."

He tensed up, and his cock twitched, spurting hot jets of cum into her. His hips kept moving, grinding against her arse, his spend leaking down her inner thighs and to the mattress, joining the puddle of fluids that was already there.

He sighed as he sagged on top of her, licked her bite mark again.

"Is that what my slut wanted? To be fucked so full of her professor's cum she can't even keep it all inside her?"

"No regret," she told him, smiling happily into the pillow.

"Foolish girl," was his answer.

She shifted, turning, seeking his mouth. Their lips met. The kiss was sloppy, and enthusiastically wet.

"I want more cum in me," she whispered against his lips.

He kissed her harder, growling into her mouth.

"Go back to sleep. I'll give you more."

"Yes, sir," she said.

She cuddled with him, drifted off to sleep in a matter of seconds, safe and warm in his arms.

Chapter Text

Harrie shifted on the bench, trying to find a more comfortable position.

Her arse was very sore, the consequence of getting fucked multiple times in her sleep. Snape had rubbed his special cream into her skin again, and given her a potion, but its effect hadn't quite kicked in yet, and sitting was not pleasant at the moment.

Ron noticed her squirming. He smiled around his mouthful of toast, said nothing.

"Have you heard any news about Dumbledore?" Hermione whispered.

Harrie shook her head. The news of his poisoning hadn't spread yet, and the students were all having a calm breakfast in the Great Hall. She was wondering for how much longer they'd have to keep that secret when McGonagall stood up, and sent a clear chime through the entire hall with her wand.

Every head turned in her direction. A hush fell over the Great Hall. McGonagall looked grim, her mouth pinched, her eyes hard behind her glasses.

"Students," she said in a loud voice, "a moment of your attention, please. I have some grave news to share. Last night, Professor Dumbledore was the victim of an attempted poisoning. He was hurt, and is currently in the Hospital Wing."

Harrie watched Draco carefully. His face was too pale, and his eyes were shifting around, as if he expected people to look at him and know he was guilty. His gaze met Harrie's, and he glared hatefully at her. She glared back.

"While Albus is recovering, the Headmaster duties will be taken on by Severus, who will act as our interim Headmaster going forward."

"Snape?" Ron said, utter surprise coloring his voice.

Harrie was not faring any better. He hadn't told her, the bastard! They had had a full conversation this morning before she left his quarters, and he hadn't mentioned Dumbledore once, and certainly not this! She shifted her gaze off Draco, pinned Snape with an angry stare.

He wasn't looking at her. Remus had leaned toward him, and they were exchanging words.

"I expect you all to show Severus the same respect and trust you afforded Albus," McGonagall said. "Rest assured the person who cowardly attacked him will be identified and apprehended. Now, I believe Severus would like to say a few words..."

Snape rose, flicked his wand at his throat, magically amplifying his voice.

"Thank you, Minerva... I will act as Headmaster starting today, as per Dumbledore's wishes. I will also continue to teach Potions." His dark eyes swept over the assembly of students. They didn't linger on Harrie. "There are hard times ahead, and I will not coddle you. Nor will I tolerate any foolish behavior. You will all focus on your studies, and adhere to the rules that have been set in place for your safety."

He paused.

"There will be no trip allowed to Hogsmeade next week. I will hear no complaints about this decision," he said, louder, to cover the protests that had started erupting. "Use that time instead to revise your lessons and work on your essays."

"This sucks," Ron groaned.

"That will be all," Snape concluded, sitting back down.

The Hall was soon filled with noise as everyone commented the events. Harrie heard some students wonder if Dumbledore would be alright, and others ask why he'd chosen Snape and not McGonagall.

"Focus on our studies," Hermione said, with a bite to her voice, "when meanwhile, Death Eaters activities are growing stronger every day. Another Muggle village was attacked last night. Five dead, and two people gone mad from the Cruciatus, who'll never be the same again."

"We're safe here at Hogwarts," Harrie said, aware her words were paltry things compared to what was happening all over the country.

"For how long?" Hermione said.

Harrie felt a shiver go down her spine, as if someone had walked over her grave.

*

"Treacle tart."

The gargoyle blinked its stone eyes, didn't budge an inch.

"Acid Pops? Liquorice sticks? I don't know, Harrie Potter?"

The gargoyle remained where it was.

"Just tell me the password!"

Her pleas fell on deaf, stone ears. She had no hope of getting in. Snape had refused to tell her the password, despite her insistence and her offers of sucking him off. He was sleeping in the Headmaster quarters now, and he wasn't letting her in.

It was the third night she tried and failed.

She had confronted him today after Potions class, because she missed him, damn it. He had told her he was too busy for entertaining her at night at the moment, and that she could go to Lupin for that.

Which she had.

And would again.

Turning away from the gargoyle, she headed for Remus' rooms, reached them in a few minutes. He let her in quickly, smiled at her when she removed the cloak.

"Still can't sleep on your own?"

"I don't want to take any potions," she said. "And I feel safer with you."

There had been no change in Dumbledore's health. He remained in a coma, the unknown poison lingering in his system. He was to be moved to St Mungo's tomorrow, where a whole team of experienced Healers would work at curing him.

"You can stay as long as you need," Remus said.

They moved into his private quarters. He drew her a bath, added scented salts to the water, and Harrie sank into that inviting warmth, inhaling the pleasant fragrances of honey and lavender. With a sigh, she settled in, leaving behind all the day's worries. She could still do that. She could still forget it all and enjoy the present moment.

Remus joined her, sitting behind her, gathering her against his chest. His hands smoothed down her sides, then up again, settled on her shoulders, massaging. He worked the tension out of her muscles, his fingers digging into every knotted spot, soothing her into a state of happy relaxation. He made sure to avoid the bite mark at her throat, though he did trail two fingers over it, gentle enough to spark a wave of tingles down her spine.

"Do you want to bite me on the other side?" she sleepily said.

He exhaled near her ear.

"I don't need to leave marks on your body, Harrie. Having you with me is enough."

"Think of the face Snape would make."

"Is that what you want? For us to fight over you?"

"No, that's not—Are you?"

His thumb pressed down on a spot just under her jaw, his hand moving in a specific way, twisting, and she felt a coil of tension fall away.

"No. We've reached an understanding. We've agreed not to compete for your attention, and let you set the pace of this... relationship."

"Oh. Is he gloating that I spend more time with him than you?"

Until recently, anyway.

"He isn't, but I wouldn't care if he was. You're free to do what you want, with whom you want."

"So you wouldn't care if I decided I wanted just Snape?"

"Of course I would care. I'd miss you. I'd miss this," he said, and kissed the side of her jaw. "But I'd let you go."

She nibbled on her bottom lip, reflecting on her feelings for Remus. On her feelings for Snape, too. She didn't think she loved them. She enjoyed spending time with them, and she would definitely miss them if that were to stop, but as for romantic feelings... no, there weren't any. And while, with Remus, they shared more than sex, if you were to take out the sex parts between her and Snape, there wouldn't be a whole lot left.

"Are you having doubts?" Remus inquired.

"Just trying to figure everything out. This is my first real relationship, and I can't even ask my friends for advice. And then, even if I were to tell them, in, I don't know, a year, or two... I couldn't tell them the truth. They'd judge you."

"As they should."

She thumped her head back into his shoulder.

"Stop it with the self-flagellating, Remus."

"I'm afraid I can't. You might as well ask Severus to stop lying."

She sighed. She couldn't see herself having a future anyway. The path forward was clouded, and when she tried to imagine herself five years from now, she got nothing.

Remus washed her hair, using a vanilla-scented shampoo that Harrie loved. His fingers massaged her scalp, leeching the last bits of tension from her, until she was a puddle of loose muscles. She stretched when Remus rinsed her hair, nestled back into him. Her rear pressed into his half-hard cock.

"Mmm," she said, wiggling against him.

His cock stirred, hardening further.

"Is that what you want?" Remus said, voice dropping to a seductive whisper.

She wrapped a hand around the girth of him, stroked up and down. He was ready in a matter of seconds, his hot, eager cock twitching between her fingers. With his help, she shifted position, sank down on him, slowly engulfing him in her cunt. He groaned once he was fully seated within her.

"Feels so good," she said, pleasure strangling her voice.

Remus hummed in agreement.

She moved, rocking her hips in lazy, languid rolls. His hands rested at her waist for a time, as he gently followed her motions, grinding up into her. Then they slid to her breasts, caressed her curves, plucked at her nipples, skillfully, building the sensations higher, so sweetly. Tension returned, the good kind, the very good kind, coiling in her belly.

She panted, seeking her pleasure on Remus' cock while he peppered her neck and throat with kisses.

For long minutes she rode him, eyes closed, body warm, cunt perfectly full, and she wasn't thinking about Snape, she wasn't thinking about Voldemort, there was only this, only Remus and the pleasure they shared. His cock kept hitting a spot inside her that radiated with sunbright heat, and she was getting closer to a complete detonation with every grind downward, with every accompanying roll of his hips, with every word of praise whispered in her ear.

"You're perfect, Harrie, so perfect... You'll come for me, won't you? You'll come on my cock, good girl..."

"Remus..." she whined. "Fuck, Remus, I'm—"

She reached her peak with a loud moan, sliding down his shaft one last time, taking his cock as deep as possible. Her muscles contracted, hard, as all the accumulated tension released in a series of spasms that wracked across her entire body. Remus groaned, grabbed her hips, moving faster into her, making the water of the bath slosh and threaten to spill over. He let out a low snarl when he came inside her seconds later, spurts of warmth filling her cunt.

"Oh, yes," he gasped as he shuddered against her. "Yes, Harrie..."

The way he said her name made her feel so warm inside. He kept coming in her, grunting and groaning, until finally he slumped back, and she sighed and relaxed against him. His orgasms were always more effusive than Snape's, lasted longer. He had explained it had to do with the werewolf curse, the only positive effect of it.

There was a minute of silence, while they got their breaths back.

"Remus... you're... you're not in love with me, are you?"

"Would it make a difference if I was?"

"I'm..."

She wasn't sure. Remus, in love with her? Well, Snape certainly wasn't.

"No," she said. "No, it wouldn't."

They stayed silent for a while. Remus waved a hand, casting a spell to reheat the water when it started to turn lukewarm.

"How long do you think this will last?" Harrie eventually said.

"As long as you want."

"So you see yourself in my future? Assuming I have one."

He wrapped an arm around her torso, kissed her shoulder.

"You're not going to die, Harrie."

"Snape said that too."

"Well. We disagree on many things, but not on you."

Harrie closed her eyes, muttered something about Snape being impossible to understand. She half-dozed off right there, in the bath, her mind shutting down, leaving only her body and that syrupy warmth surrounding her.

Remus stirred her awake after a time, helped her out of the bathtub and into her pyjamas. She yawned all the way to his bed, and sighed in contentment once she cuddled under the blanket with him, her head nestled in the crook of his neck.

"Sleep tight," he said, kissing her temple.

And she did.

*

The next day, she left dinner early, and camped out near the Headmaster's office, hidden under her cloak. When Snape arrived, the gargoyle shifting aside for him without needing to hear the password, she slipped in after him, managing to duck between the closing door and the wall. He ascended the coiling staircase with swift steps. Harrie followed, staying two steps behind.

Suddenly, he stopped, halfway up the stairs. She hung back, wondering what was the matter, when he whirled around and swooped down upon her, his hand gripping her arm harshly. He pushed her into the wall, a snarl on his lips.

"And what do you think you're doing, Potter?"

"I miss you."

The confession tripped from her lips, seemed especially loud in the cramped space of the staircase.

"You have Lupin to satisfy all your needs," he said tersely.

"Remus is great, but he's not enough. I want you both."

He sneered, leaning down, bringing his face closer.

"You're a greedy girl, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered, as a hot ball of need tightened its grip on her belly.

"And what is my little slut after?" he said, taking one step forward, pressing her bodily into the wall. "A rough fuck right here, against the wall? Would that satisfy you?"

"Whatever you want, Professor. I know you're stressed. You deserve to relax for a moment."

His lips were at her throat, his breath hot on her skin.

"Relax," he purred. "Pound into that tight cunt and leave it dripping my seed, yes, that would be relaxing..."

She moaned as his tongue lashed at the bite mark. Her hips jerked forward, grinding against the hard bulge in his trousers.

"Why do you keep coming back, Potter? Is it only my cock you're after?"

He grabbed her arse, crudely rocking into her, making her feel him. She mewled. He jerked her harder into him, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arse.

"Answer the question, slut."

"No, I—I want—"

"What?" he rasped, his teeth scraping at the bruise.

"You." She grasped at him, clutching at his sleeves. "I want you."

She could feel his sneer against her throat. He sucked on the hickey, his hickey, and it hurt a bit, but every roll of his hips was sending the sweetest pleasure in her cunt, and the faint pain at her throat only made it better.

"You want your ugly, greasy professor? My prick isn't enough, is it? You would lay claim to all of me..." A growl, rumbling into her skin. "I already have two masters, Potter. Would you fashion yourself into a third one?"

"That's not—it's not like that," she protested, her breath coming faster, the muscles in her belly growing taut. "I don't—I'm not trying to own you!"

"Too late," he said, and he bit her again, in the exact same place.

God, it hurt, but somehow the pain ripped through her nerves and right into her cunt, where it made everything explode in pleasure. She wheezed, trembling against Snape as her climax hit hard, her legs straining, her toes curling in her shoes. It was barely over that he was dragging her up the stairs, holding her wrist tightly, tugging her along. She stumbled after him on shaky legs, breathing hard, her cunt still pulsing with weak aftershocks.

They crested the top of the stairs, entering the office. It wasn't that different from when Dumbledore occupied it, thought there were a few key features that had changed. Snape had removed all the portraits, the walls now bare, and Fawkes' perch was nowhere to be seen. On the shelves, the silver instruments lay silent, as if slumbering. And of course, there was no candy dish on the desk.

Snape took a few more steps, then stopped, his gaze sweeping the space. Harrie following his line of sight.

He was going to fuck her. The question was just where. On the desk, bent over, her skirt flipped up, knickers pushed to the side so he could enter her? Against one of the shelves, the edges digging into her back as he rammed into her? In his bed, past the door on the far side, her face pushed into the sheets while her cunt was taking a pounding?

His eyes stopped on the Pensieve, which was occupying a recessed corner of the office, half in shadows. Then he turned to her.

"You've been into a Pensieve before, haven't you?"

She nodded.

"Yes, I thought so," he said. "What was Dumbledore showing you?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"The Headmaster kept secrets from everyone, even me."

"He showed me moments of Vold—of his past. His childhood, his time at Hogwarts, the day he applied to be the DADA teacher..."

Something shifted in Snape's gaze. He clearly had thoughts about what she'd told him, but he didn't let anything slip.

"I also have a memory to show you," he said, bringing her to the Pensieve.

Without letting go of her wrist, he produced his wand, set it to his temple, and began retrieving a memory. The silver filament wobbled, clinging to the tip of his wand, shimmering in the light as Snape extracted it from his head. He dropped it into the Pensieve, and the dark liquid lit up, now swirling and glowing.

"The other night, after you asked for more cum, I fucked you in your sleep for a third time. You are going to watch it happen."

"Okay," she said.

"And while you're watching it, I will also fuck you."

Her belly clenched with dizzying heat. Her breath caught in her throat, in a half-gasp. Snape was looking at her with a dark smile, his eyes steady, waiting for her answer.

For her consent.

"Okay," she said again. "And..."

"And what?"

"And you can fuck my arse, too. In fact, I want you to. I want to come back out of the Pensieve with both holes dripping."

Lust flamed in his gaze. He bared his teeth, not in a smile, but in a wild snarl.

"Offering me your arse, really? Did you make that same offer to Lupin, or did he have to beg for a taste of it as well?"

"Remus hasn't fucked my arse, because he hasn't asked. Will you stop being jealous? When I'm with you, I don't think about him."

He bent down, captured her chin, and then her lips in a quick kiss. He licked at the seam of her mouth, drew back before anything else could happen.

"Do you think about me when you're with him?" he said.

"No. And I don't want to choose between you two. I need you both. Don't make me choose."

He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, the tender gesture contrasting with the fierce look on his face.

"I won't," he said. "You can have the wolf, and you can have me. However you want."

"Why were you pushing me away?"

He jerked his head, his hand falling back to his side.

"Get into the Pensieve, Potter. Or get out."

"And leave you like that?" she said, looking down at the straining bulge of his erection. "That'd be cruel. And then you'd have to wank off and come in your hand, when clearly the superior choice is to come in my arse."

"Clearly," he echoed, the word very rough in his mouth.

She smiled, turned to the Pensieve, gripped the metallic edges, and plunged her head into the silvery substance that swirled in the basin. She went down, down, eddies of glowing light surrounding her, until her feet touched the ground and the scene formed around her.

Snape's bedroom, in shadows. His bed, and two people in it, their forms entwined.

Snape was bent over a sleeping Harrie. She was face down on the bed, and he hovered over her, like a beast in his lair looking upon his prey. His cock was out, and erect, resting on her arse, dripping pre-cum there. It looked so big. Slowly, Snape made it slide between her arsecheeks, while he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Sleeping Harrie didn't stir.

"Little slut," Snape said, in a murmur. "Sleeping in her teacher's bed, full of his cum, asking for more..."

He took his cock in hand, guided it lower, and Harrie could see everything, could see the tip of his prick breach her cunt, then the shaft slide inside, as Snape snapped his hips and buried himself balls deep into her sleeping body. He grunted in pleasure, much louder than he ever did during the sex they had awake.

"Fuck... If you could feel yourself, Potter... I've come in you twice tonight and your cunt is still strangling my prick."

He eased back, thrust into her again.

"Mmm, yes. So wet, too. You're soaking my cock, slut."

The room filled with wet, squelching noises as he made use of her body. His buttocks flexed while he pumped in her, the mattress moving slightly. His heavy balls swung against her slit, adding loud smacks to every thrust. He went slowly, watching his cock stretch her, groaning his pleasure, his breathing getting heavy.

"Filthy whore..."

He leaned down, stretching his body over hers, mouthed at her throat. He stayed like that a good while, languidly filling her cunt with his thick prick, muttering about her tightness, her wetness, what a slut she was, wanting a third load of cum, wanting more of his cock.

At some point, he began thrusting faster, grunting deeper, and she moaned and mewled in her sleep. Harrie saw her own eyelids flutter as her sleeping self gave a small move of her head, her mouth opening. She was starting to wake up, perhaps roused by the loud groans Snape let out, or the noises his hips made when they hit her rump, or simply the pleasure of getting fucked by his thick cock.

"Mmmm," she said, her hands clenching in the sheets.

Her head lolled on the pillow, motion apparent behind her eyelids.

"Somnus," Snape said.

Her body went limp. Her hands unclenched, her face stilling, her breathing deepening.

"You will stay asleep until I'm done with you. Until... aaaah, until I've given you exactly what you asked for."

He gave a harsh thrust, heaving a rasping breath.

"More cum," he said, his teeth glinting in the dark, the words particularly crude in the way he said them, whispering them like the dirtiest secret.

She didn't remember waking up. Didn't remember him casting that spell. She was so wet right now, witnessing this moment. Watching Snape fuck her in her sleep, use her, say those things, it was all so unbelievably arousing.

Snape grunted again, then slipped out of her. He moved on the bed, positioning himself near her head, and he grabbed her hair, opened her mouth with two fingers, and thrust his cock in. Harrie heard him hiss in pleasure as he watched his prick disappear between her lips. He set a slow rhythm, not thrusting too deep, but fucking her mouth all the same, in a mix of slick sounds and soft groans.

Sleeping Harrie moaned but didn't wake, the spell ensuring she was kept asleep.

"Look at that hot little mouth, swallowing my cock. Oh yes, that's it, take it."

He thrust deeper, nearly all the way in, the noises from the act so deliciously filthy. She was aware of the sounds their bodies made when they were fucking, and she liked them, loved hearing how sloppy they could get together, but she had never been able to focus so completely on them. There was always pleasure interfering, stealing part of her mind, or Snape doing things to her, biting, growling, calling her his slut. Right now, she could listen to those sounds without being distracted by anything else.

The squelches, the wet sucking noises, Snape's rough breathing, the slide of flesh on flesh... and Snape's dirty talk, because he was still spewing filthy words at her even though she could hear none of them.

"I could come here," he groaned. "In your mouth. On your face. Just drench you with my seed, everywhere. Let you wake up with a face full of cum."

She found herself wishing he had. She wanted to be thoroughly debased in her sleep, wake up with cum in every hole, and no memory of taking it. Then watch it happen in a Pensieve, just like now, while she clenched her thighs together, her cunt aching to be filled.

It was probably full back in the real world. Snape would be fucking her, and in the arse, too. Maybe she was even coming right now, clamping down on his prick, having it spurting inside her.

On the bed, Snape pulled out of her mouth, rubbed his cockhead over her lips. Her mouth stayed half-open, as if begging for a cock to stuff it full again.

Snape shifted, settled back behind her. He ran his hand over her arse, pulled her arsecheeks apart, spat in her crack, the fat globe of saliva dripping down to her anus. Had he... had he fucked her arse while she was sleeping that night? She hadn't noticed any soreness in the morning...

She watched as he pressed the head of his cock to her arsehole. He swiped it up and down a few times, groaned low in his throat, then guided his cock further down and snapped his hips, taking her cunt. Heat surged between her thighs at the sight, at the sound, at the knowledge that this had really happened.

Snape had really groaned like that, wild and rough.

He had really laid on top of her, both hands braced beside her head, and had really pumped that hard into her, that fast.

Had really said, "Fuck, you're going to take everything... I'm going to fill that cunt so full—"

His final thrusts were beyond rough, the bed creaking from their strength. He shuddered and snarled as he came, hips flush against her arse, spilling inside her for the third time that night. When he withdrew, his seed leaked out, adding to the wet stain that had already formed on the sheets.

He leaned back, spread her thighs wide, and watched her cunt drip his cum for several minutes. When he was satisfied, he spelled her clean, then cuddled with her, allowing her head to rest against his chest.

"Good girl," he said, which even now made Harrie feel warm. "Good girl..."

The memory was fading, the scene leeching substance, the colors whirling together. Harrie took one last, long look at her past self and Snape entangled in his bed, and closed her eyes as she was being pulled away, out of the memory.

*

Potter was head down into the Pensieve.

The little fool had really gone through with it. She'd agreed to let him fuck her unconscious body, to let her fuck her arse while she wouldn't feel a thing.

His cock was so stiff it was painful.

He ignored it for the moment, tugged Potter's skirt down, groaned at the sight of her knickers. She had to have chosen those especially for him. Lacy and green, they hugged her lovely arse, settling soft and snug over her plump cheeks. He fondled that arse, then slapped it, watching her flesh jiggle.

"You're such a slut for your professor, Miss Potter," he remarked, slipping his fingers between her legs, finding her hot cunt.

She was dripping, and so very ready for him.

"Asking for cum in every hole. Letting me do this."

He plunged two fingers into her, groaned at the tight heat that welcomed them. Kneeling down, he pushed her knickers down her legs, wedged her legs further apart, and licked at that perfect cunt. He dragged the flat of his tongue over her slit, again and again, groaning at the taste of her.

He'd wanted to do this for quite some time, but the opportunity had never presented itself. She had never asked him to lick her cunt, and asking her was out of the question. She didn't need to know how much he wanted her.

He sucked on her clit as she got slicker, her cunt positively dripping on his tongue. Oh, yes. He pressed the palm of his hand against his cock to stave off the burning need to bury himself inside her, feasted further on her, his nose nudging her folds, stabbing the tip of his tongue into her.

He could have spent the night there, face pressed into her cunt. But he didn't have that much time. Fifteen minutes of the memory, and then perhaps an hour before he was called, at most.

Her body didn't tremble, didn't strain. She was unresponsive but for the flutters of her cunt, for the drip of her nectar into his mouth. She wouldn't make any noise either, her head fully submerged in the Pensieve. He would have to be careful not to get too rough.

Or perhaps he'd use her hard. Perhaps that was exactly what she wanted of him.

He hadn't found her limits yet. He kept pushing her, throwing vulgar words at her, asking to fuck her arse, doing it, so very roughly, and she hadn't used her safeword once, except for that time he had forced her to do so. He wasn't sure if that was her brash Gryffindor nature, or the fact that she was afraid he would send her away if she denied him.

He had explained the purpose of a safeword, had told her she was free to use it at any time, and that he would never be disappointed in her for doing so, but Potter was a difficult girl to teach, and he was afraid that extended to the sexual domain as well.

Maybe coming back to herself with a sore arse full of his cum would educate her as to the virtues of restraint.

He straightened to his feet, got his cock out, and entered her cunt slowly, groaning at the tight fit. Bracing a hand at her nape, right where it was immersed into the Pensieve, he immediately began to fuck her at a hard, merciless pace. He powered into her limp body, slamming himself deep, knowing she could only take his cock, was not even aware she was taking it.

"That's a good slut," he growled, reaming her cunt with his thick cock.

He slid his hands to her arse, holding her open so he could see his prick stuff her cunt, the way his length split her, how wet she was, her arousal coating him on every thrust. His balls slapped against her cleft, his cock straining into that sloppy hole that hugged him so nicely.

Fucking Potter was always a delight, whether he was doing it alone or with Lupin, and he loved hearing her react to him, making her squeal and moan and beg. But sometimes, sometimes, he was in the mood for this. Simply using her to pleasure himself while she couldn't feel a thing.

The knowledge that she would wake up with both holes dripping his cum had him thrusting faster. He grunted, his hands gripping her arse, as the Headmaster's office echoed with the lewdest sounds the place had even seen. He didn't regret removing the portraits, but the thought of someone witnessing this, seeing him ram into Potter from behind while she was head down into the Pensieve, her body lax and offered to his most perverse whims... fuck, maybe he'd send the memory of this to Lupin.

"I'm going to fill that perfect cunt," he snarled, and with his next thrust, he did, pumping hot cum into her.

He pulled out roughly, splattering the back of her thighs with his seed, some of it dripping to the floor as well.

"Slut," he said, slapping her arse.

They would definitely do this again, and he would show her this memory.

He stuck two fingers in her well-fucked cunt, took some of his cum, smeared it across her anus. The last time he'd done this, she had tensed beneath him, and then had mewled like a cat in heat as he was filling her arse with his fingers, then with his prick.

This time, she didn't even twitch as he breached her arsehole with his finger, slowly working it inside. He added some saliva, thrust back and forth, opening her up for his use. The tight ring of muscle gripped at his finger, promising heaven around his cock.

"I'm not using a lube spell, Potter," he said. "You're getting only my cum, and my spit."

He spat again, pushed a second finger in, gliding into her arse with slick noises. He fingered her for a time, until he was confident he had prepared her enough.

Gripping her hips, he set the fat head of his cock at her arsehole, and slowly pushed in. He groaned when his cockhead slipped inside, immediately surrounded by the tightest, hottest arse he ever had the pleasure of fucking.

"Such a slut..."

He kept pushing forward, fitting the entire length of his cock into her hole. She wrapped around him, velvet heat and crushing tightness, and he was not going to last long. He didn't have much time left anyway. Less than five minutes to leave that hole dripping as well.

He moved in short, powerful strokes, shoving her back onto his shaft at the same time, using her as if she was nothing more than a pretty little cock sleeve. She was, of course, much more than that, but she would see this moment later in the Pensieve, and he couldn't give her any hint that would let her think he cared for her beyond the appeal of her body.

He couldn't let her know what he'd done to protect her, and what he would do.

She had to believe he only wanted her because he relished dominating her sexually, had to believe any cuddles between them were traded in exchange for something. She couldn't know just how much he enjoyed holding her in his arms.

"Little slut, getting her arse fucked by her professor," he said, as he felt his climax approach.

Every thrust into her was bliss, and right now he wasn't thinking about anything else but her. Panting, he pumped harder, looking down at his pistoning prick. The sight of his throbbing cock pushing into her arse undid him. His balls drew up, and with a hoarse cry, he came, shooting a thick load of cum into her abused hole, painting her insides white.

He pulled out before he was done, his seed spilling over her arse in thick, glossy ropes. He stroked himself through the last spasms of his shaft, wiped his cockhead on her arse.

"There you go. Both holes dripping, as requested."

He felt much lighter. Fucking her always did wonders for his stress.

He cleaned himself, tucked himself back in his boxers, buttoned up his trousers. Stepping back, he admired his handiwork. Potter's arse and cunt were a tableau of debauchery, streaked with cum. His spend leaked from her holes and dripped to the floor. Even though he had just come twice, the sight sent a sharp pulse of arousal through him.

He would have liked nothing more than to have her in his bed tonight.

He couldn't.

Just as he had that thought, she began stirring, her feet shifting, her legs tensing.

"My little slut is waking up," he said, allowing a smugly satisfied smile to settle upon his lips.

*

Harrie lifted her head from the Pensieve, and groaned.

Clearly, Snape had been very rough with her body while she was watching his memory. Her cunt felt exceptionally sore, and her arse stung, not in actual pain, but in the way that told her her nerves had been worked up to overstimulation and past it. She also felt wetness everywhere, in her cunt, in her arse, on her arse, between her thighs... It dripped and dripped, sliding down her legs, making a puddle on the floor.

His cum.

She was wearing it like fucking paint.

Taking a slow breath, she shifted her feet closer together. Her skirt lay rumpled on the floor, still around one of her feet, as were her knickers. She bent down to retrieve both, and immediately moaned, because—

—friction, need, heat, fuck—

Her body wasn't satisfied.

Her body was screaming for an orgasm, and she was standing right at the edge of one.

"You didn't make me come," she said to Snape, looking up at him, finding him smiling.

"You didn't ask me to."

She whined, sliding her thighs together. So close, so close—

"Would you like me to make you come?"

"Please..."

The word came out with a pathetic little whine. She didn't care, she didn't, she needed—

"Touch yourself," Snape ordered.

She put her fingers between her thighs, jammed them right against her folds, pressing down on her clit, gasping and writhing, her hips jolting forward.

"Can you feel how slick you are?" Snape said, stepping closer.

"Nnn-mm-please—"

Closer.

"That's my cum you're masturbating with, Potter."

"Ah, ah, Snape—"

Dark eyes flicking down, landing on her cunt, on her fingers there, working in desperate, stilted motions, the noise slick and lewd.

"I ejaculated into both your holes," he said, his slim fingers wrapping around her wrist, forcing her to slow down. "I filled you with my cum, first in your cunt, and then in your arse."

"Fuck-nngghh, fuck—please, please—"

His fingers were gripping her wrist tightly, restraining her to an unbearable pace, one that was torture.

"And you love it, you depraved little thing. You loved being so full of my cum you're dripping it everywhere, don't you?"

"Yes! Yes, I love—ggnnuuu, love it, Snape—"

He slapped the side of her thigh, hard, and she jolted and keened, nearly there, nearly fucking there, she was so close—

"Look me in the eyes when you come for me."

She met his dark eyes, two coals glinting in his pale face, and he smiled, teeth bared, and then his fingers were rubbing at her soaked, engorged clit, and yes, yes, finally, God—

"Moaning like a whore," he remarked idly as she rode the brutal orgasm that tore her apart, and yes, she was moaning (like a whore).

The wave of pleasure left her panting and staggering when it receded. She gripped the Pensieve so she wouldn't fall over. Snape had stepped back, and as she watched him, he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, his lips curved in a wicked smile.

"Uuh-uh," she said, because that was all she could say.

Snape lowered his hand. His smile vanished, though the satisfaction in his gaze remained.

"Clean yourself up. I will not have you walking out of my office looking like this, Potter."

She muttered a cleaning spell, then a second one, as the first one hadn't been enough.

"Why can't I stay?" she said, putting her knickers and her skirt back on, still panting, unable to steady the trembling in her limbs. "You've... you've removed all the portraits, and everyone will think I'm with my boyfriend or girlfriend. I could sleep in your bed."

"I don't want you there. Now get out."

He didn't want her there? Bullshit. He was lying, there was another reason she couldn't sleep in his bed, another reason he had been pushing her away.

She set her skirt back in place, smoothed the fabric down, thinking.

"It's Voldemort," she guessed.

A spasm twitched over his features.

"Do not say his name!"

"But I'm right, aren't I? Now that you're Headmaster, he's making demands of you. And you're..."

More stressed, under more pressure, and not in the mood to share his bed.

"It's time for you to leave," he said, stiffly.

"Alright. I'll come back tomorrow, same time."

"Why?" he said, with a half-snarl, half-sneer.

"You need it."

He didn't try to deny it.

As she took the first step down the staircase, he called her name.

"Potter."

"What?"

"Do not wear any knickers tomorrow."

She smiled at him.

"Yes, Professor."

Chapter Text

"Bend over."

"You're not even gonna say hello first?"

"We both know why you're here, Potter. Bend. Over."

Harrie approached the desk, shot a glare at Snape, just for form, and bent at the waist, resting her upper half on the wooden surface. He stood behind her, placed a hand at her back, applied pressure. Then his hand cracked across her arse, twice.

She yelped, her cunt clenching needily as both impacts jostled her rump.

"Have you followed my instructions?" he asked, groping her through the skirt.

"Yes."

"Hmm."

He flipped her skirt back. She heard him inhale at the sight that greeted him. Her bare buttocks, and her bare cunt, all on display for him.

"And when did you remove your knickers, you filthy girl?" he said, palming one arsecheek, then the other.

The proximity of his hands, so close to her sex, made her whine.

"I... I wasn't wearing any in class earlier, Professor."

"You had no knickers on while you were brewing that Swelling Solution?"

"N-none."

He swiped two fingers across her cunt, and God, she was so wet, it made such a noise.

"Were you this soaked in my class, Miss Potter?"

She answered with a little whine. His hand came down on her arse, the crack! ringing through the room.

"Yes! Yes, I was!"

"Insufferable slut."

"I think you're suffering me just fine, sir," she said, wiggling her arse.

He spanked her again, and she shivered in delight as two more hard swats were delivered to her arse. Her flesh stung from the blows, her cunt pulsing with vicious heat.

"Please, Professor..."

Crack!

This one landed across both cheeks, and hurt so good she mewled from it, a soft little noise almost purred from her lips.

"Use the proper title, slut."

"Please, Headmaster," she gasped.

Her hands scrambled on the varnished wood surface, trying to find purchase. He grabbed her wrists, gathered them at the small of her back, holding them there, trapped in one of his hand. With the other, he undid his belt, opened the buttons of his trousers, and freed his cock. She felt the hot tip of it brush her inner thighs.

"Spread your legs for your Headmaster."

She spread them wide, a lance of arousal burning through her cunt. It felt so good, excited her so much, each and every time. She would never get tired of his cock, nor of the way he called her a slut.

"I'm your slut, Headmaster," she said as his cock prodded her entrance.

"Mine," he grunted, sinking into her in one long thrust.

The aching stretch tore a moan from her throat. God, he was so thick. And yet she took him every time. She loved how he felt inside her. All those hard inches crammed into her cunt, stimulating her walls, filling her. And when he moved, fuck, he felt even better.

"Always such a warm welcome, Potter. Does your cunt feel empty when it isn't stuffed full of cock?"

She squealed as he began thrusting, shoving forward into her body, drawing back, snapping his hips again, bottoming out inside her. In no time at all, she was panting, her brain assaulted by pleasure.

"Do you—miss my cunt when you're not—ah, ah—balls deep in it?"

"Insolent slut."

He delivered a swat to her arse, palm landing flat, the sound echoing harshly in the quiet office.

"Oooh," she moaned, her voice quavering, a delicious shudder wracking her body.

He held her steady, his fingers gripping her wrists tight, his hips rocking smoothly. Heat sparked with every thrust, blooming in her belly, sneaking down her thighs, up her spine, smoldering along every nerve.

"You're squeezing my prick," he said, sounding very pleased about that.

"Love your cock, sir. Love it when you pound it into me."

"Does my slut want to be fucked hard?"

Well, if he was offering...

"Please," she whined.

The next drive of his cock into her was brutal, and punched the air from her lungs. She whinged, her cunt throbbing with painful arousal, tightening around his prick. He increased his pace, groaning as he pumped into her. She braced her feet on the floor and kept her legs spread wide for him, inviting him to rut in her cunt.

"Do not come," he ordered.

"Uuuuuh."

She focused on holding back her orgasm, though that really wasn't easy. His cock rubbed mercilessly at her inner walls, and the feel of it was electric, reaching so deep, pressure growing. She writhed under him, strangled moans getting caught in her throat, coming out in ragged breaths. The slap of skin on skin was very loud now, and she was—oh fuck—she was going to—

"I said don't."

He took his cock away, fully pulling out of her, and cracked her across the arse. She yelped, her core pulsing, so empty.

"No, please, no!"

He leaned over her, putting his lips to her ear.

"You will come when I give you permission, and not a moment before."

"Yes... yes, yes..."

"Yes? Will you behave, slut?"

"Yes, please—I'll be a good little slut—please, please, Snape—"

Jesus, what was coming out of her mouth? Her cheeks were flaming, but she didn't even think it was shame. She had left shame behind, and now there was just arousal and belly-clenching need, setting her body aflame.

Snape groaned behind her.

"Good slut."

She sobbed in relief when he entered her again, his thick girth stretching her eager cunt. He set a steady pace, sinking his cock fully inside her, drawing back to the tip of him. It wasn't particularly hard, nor it was slow. It was a thorough rhythm, and she felt as if he was fucking much more than her cunt, as if his cock reached to her throat, as if the entire purpose of her body was to receive his cock and his cum.

She trembled on the table, her legs shaking, jolts of ecstasy burning through her nerves, her mouth open as she whimpered and moaned.

"Can't stay quiet, can you? You have to make slutty little noises while I'm using you."

Using her. The phrasing made her moan louder, pleasure unfurling in her cunt, tension coiling too tight, her cunt clenching around his cock, trying to draw him in, enticing him to find his release inside her. He chuckled, went slower , giving her tortuously languid strokes while she nearly sobbed.

"Snape, please, please..."

"Mmm."

Another long, too slow thrust, his balls pressing against the lips of her sex at the end of it, and she felt so full of him, so ready to come all over his cock, she needed—

"You may come, Potter. Come on your Headmaster's cock."

If asked if she was capable of coming on command, she would have answered no. And she would have been wrong, because as soon as those words were out of Snape's mouth, her body was seizing up in blissful ecstasy, unintelligible noises streaming from her mouth as she was swept away by her orgasm. She sobbed and mewled, coming hard on his cock, squirting a gush of fluid all over him.

"What a good obedient slut, oh yes..."

He stayed fully seated in her cunt while she clenched and clenched around his prick, riding her climax to the end.

"Ah, ah," she panted. "Ah, fuck, ah..."

Had he come? She wasn't sure... she hadn't felt...

"Come in me, sir," she begged, wanting to feel him, wanting him to lose himself in her.

"Not quite yet."

She was about to ask why when there was a noise. Specifically, footsteps coming from the staircase. Her head snapped up, a beat of panic making her heart stutter. Who was—

Oh, it was Remus.

He emerged from the shadows of the staircase, stopped on the last step. His eyes went wide as he took in the scene, Harrie bent over the desk, her skirt flipped up, and Snape behind her, buried in her cunt.

"I guess that answers the question of why you wanted to see me," Remus said.

Harrie smiled at him.

"Come here, Lupin," Snape said. "You're going to paint her face while I fill her cunt."

"If it's alright with Harrie," Remus said, approaching the desk.

"Yes," Harrie moaned. "Yes, come on my face, please..."

"See, she's even begging for it," Snape said. "And—ah—she just clenched around me. She needs more than my cock."

He fisted a hand in her hair, yanked her head back. She opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue, emitting a needy whine.

"You'll suck his cock, won't you, slut?" Snape said, grinding his throbbing shaft into her. "You'll suck it until he comes all over your whore face."

"I'll suck it," Harrie said, panting. "I'll suck it—"

"Say it, Harrie," Remus said, as he was undoing his belt and lowering his zipper.

"I'll suck your cock until you come all over my whore face."

"Good girl."

His cock was half-hard, and he placed the tip of it on her tongue and slowly thrust his hips. She closed her lips around him, hummed. Remus groaned, guiding his cock deeper, while Snape held her head.

"Good sluts take what they're given," he said, and began snapping his hips hard against her rump.

The friction provided by his cock instantly made her mewl, the sound muffled by Remus' shaft. They worked her from both ends, Remus sliding languidly into her mouth while Snape hammered into her, his thick prick splitting her cunt open.

"Mmm-mmm," she said, arousal coursing sharply through her, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You love being stuffed with cock," Snape growled.

She really did. It was heaven right now, getting to suck Remus off while Snape fucked her. And she also loved how rough they were with her. On his own, Remus never got too wild, but when Snape was involved, he unleashed the wolfish side of him, as if seeing Harrie take one cock hard broke down his restraint.

"Your mouth feels so good, sweetheart..."

"Her slutty cunt can't get enough of my cock."

Between praise and debasement, her pleasure soared, body vibrating with desire, scorching tension building up and up. Her eyes were watering, and she was drooling over Remus' cock, and over the desk, making a mess of it, but it only seemed to spur both men on.

They increased their pace, Snape slamming into her, Remus making her gag, drawing noises and shudders from her, each thrust filling her up just the way she wanted, pushing deep, her cunt welcoming Snape's cock with wet noises while her throat convulsed around Remus. A tormented moan escaped her, the sound filtering out with dribbles of spit. She was so close—

"I'm coming," Remus suddenly gasped.

He pulled out and shot ropes of his seed over her face, his cum landing in hot stripes, lashing her skin. The sensation triggered her climax, a blinding flash swallowing up her vision as she came, toe-curling bliss ripping through her nerves, a ragged moan leaving her lips. There was a snarl behind her, and then a weight on her back, pinning her to the desk, Snape's hot breath at her ear.

"That's it, milk my cock, slut."

He pounded into her ruthlessly, to a primal rhythm, yanking her back into him, growling like a beast. His cock speared through her spasming cunt, cleaving her in two, his balls slapping in stinging blows against her slit.

"Fuck, fuck—"

He buried himself hilt deep and pulsed scalding heat inside her, filling her with slick spurts of semen. She was still coming, squirting on his cock even as he found his release.

"Oh, yes," he muttered, rolling his hips in short strokes, his chest heaving at her back. "Mmm, you take cum so well, Potter."

He finished coming inside her, slapped her arse as he pulled out. She was limp on the desk, legs still spread, her cheek resting in a spot of drool.

"Alright, Harrie?" Remus asked, as he always did after every threesome.

"Yes," she said, then laughed, the endorphins hitting hard. "Mm, so good."

Remus caressed her hair, praising her in a low voice, telling her what a good girl she was, how beautiful she looked, and did she need anything, had they been too rough? She smiled at him.

"I'm fine, really."

"Clean your mess up," Snape said somewhere behind her.

"It's your mess too," she said. "Sir," she added belatedly.

"You made it on my desk," Snape retorted.

She licked her lips, getting the taste of Remus' cum on her tongue, then cast a Cleaning Charm. The wave of magic vanished the mess from her face, her drool on the desk, and took care of the wetness between her legs. She straightened up, turned around, sat at the edge of the desk, her feet off the floor.

"I want more," she said.

Snape raised an eyebrow at her from his chair.

"Oh? You're not satisfied?" Remus said.

He slipped his hands on her shoulders, then lower, his palms cupping her breasts.

"No," she said, stretching under his caresses, moaning softly.

"What do you have in mind?" Remus said, his voice rough.

"I want... I want you to lick my cunt while Snape watches."

She loved it when Remus ate her out. Snape had never done it, and frankly it didn't seem like something he would do. But she could have this, she could have Remus' mouth and Snape's eyes.

"What a depraved idea, Potter," Snape commented.

"That's actually pretty tame compared to some of the stuff we've done," she said.

"No objection from me. Proceed."

He remained in his chair, his hands in his lap, his lips curled as he looked at them. Harrie spread her legs and leaned back, propped up on her elbows so she could see Snape. Remus rounded the desk, came to kneel between her thighs. He moved her skirt out of the way, smoothed both hands up her legs, toward her cunt.

"No knickers?" he said, his fingers brushing her slit.

"Slut don't need knickers," Snape said.

"Is our Harrie a slut?" Remus said, his hot breath tickling her wet cunt.

He never called her a slut, and technically, he still hadn't, but hearing the word so close to 'our Harrie' made strange things happen in her chest, like someone had squeezed her insides and then smoothed them out.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I'm your slut."

She included both of them in her gaze. Snape smirked, while Remus leaned forward, and swiped his tongue over the length of her cunt. She made a weak little noise, held herself still. Her gaze navigated from Remus to Snape as Remus worked his tongue on her cunt, giving her broad, firm licks. There was no hesitation in his actions. He ate her out expertly, knowing exactly what she liked, and how to make her pleasure last.

He varied the motions of his tongue, sometimes nudging at her clit, but mostly massaging her folds, promising more by focusing on her entrance and licking around it. When she started writhed, unable to sit still since it felt too good, he put his hands on her thighs and held her legs open, increasing the speed of his tongue.

It brushed more and more over her throbbing clit, and pleasure spread in waves, reaching deep inside her. She moaned, her thighs straining, trying to grind her cunt into his face.

"Ah... Oh, God, please—yes, yes—"

Through it all, Snape was watching, which set her nerves alight with a particular kind of excitement. His gaze was all heat, focused and heavy, burning on her cunt, just like Remus' tongue. He wasn't touching himself, but she knew he was hard. Knew he was enjoying as much as her, as much as Remus.

Pleasure blazed in her belly as the sensations kept building toward a peak. She was thrashing around on the desk now, groaning out pleas, her voice a thin stream of hushed words, tumbling over one another.

"Don't stop, fuck—Remus—ooohh, don't, don't stop, oh—"

He said something right against her cunt, in a puff of hot air. His tongue slipped into her, and then there was more, a finger, sliding in, pressing up. She wheezed as she came, right on Remus' tongue, squirting out a huge gush of fluids, trembling all over.

"Oh, oh, mmmm..."

The finger inside her plunged and rubbed and thrust, accompanying every twitch of her orgasm. She bucked her hips, riding it, riding Remus' face too, absolutely shameless, and she kept her gaze locked on Snape's, losing herself in his dark eyes as bliss consumed her.

Finally she closed her eyes and sagged onto the desk, exhausted. Dimly, she felt Remus get up. Broad hands caressed her thighs, then her face. Someone said her name.

"Mmm, yes," she mumbled.

"Too many orgasms for our slut," Snape said.

He sounded close. Harrie cracked one eye open, saw a black silhouette standing near. She opened her eyes fully. Both men were there, in front of her, Remus on the right and Snape on the left.

"Cum on me," she said.

Her mouth had expressed her desires, and maybe she should have had more restraint, but... no, actually, fuck restraint.

Remus bit his lips, while Snape's eyes lit up.

"Is that what you need, slut?" he said. "To be covered in cum?"

"Yes," she moaned. "Oh, yes, please."

There was the double sound of a belt being unbuckled, followed by rustles of clothes, and then both men had their cocks in hand. Harrie groaned at the sight, at the thick pricks that were hard for her, at the plush heads where pre-cum was beading. Her breath hitched. She spread her legs wider, with a soft, pleading noise.

Remus tugged her skirt down, Snape palmed her belly as he shoved her shirt up, and they both stroked themselves. They wanked off over her, their hands going up and down their cocks, both staring at her. Harrie pushed her shirt and her bra up so they could see her breasts too, and waited.

Waited for them to come on her.

Her heart beating fast, her body flush with arousal, her cunt near pulsing.

"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, yes..."

She ached for it, for their cum to cover her, for them to come just to the sight of her, to her groans and pleas. Remus was looking at all of her, his gaze roaming, never settling on a particular spot. Snape was staring her in the eyes, and there was something there, something defiant, something different, something important, but she couldn't say what.

The sounds of their hands on their cocks grew louder, slicker, Remus panting while Snape was breathing heavily. Harrie was trembling, half-formed mewls leaving her lips, and if previously she had wanted them to come on her, now she needed it.

"Please—plea—uuuh, Snape, Rem—"

Remus grunted, came first, thick jets of cum hitting Harrie, landing across her stomach and her breasts. Then it was Snape's turn, his cock twitching, spurting out semen that splattered on her cunt and her thighs.

"Fuck," Harrie gasped, her hips bucking, her nerves electrified.

"Come, little slut," Snape said.

He pushed two fingers inside her, and at the same time, Remus rolled his thumb on her clit. She squealed, clenching up, dissolving into pleasure and a series of wracking shudders that made her quake on the desk. Through the thirty seconds or so that her orgasm lasted, Snape and Remus kept their fingers on her, in her, fucking her cunt roughly, rubbing at her clit, making her squirt again, until she had left a puddle of slickness where she sat.

Her eyes closed, she lay on the desk, floating in the post-orgamic haze, smiling.

"I assume you're satisfied this time?" came Snape's voice.

"Mmmm."

"You did so well, Harrie," Remus said.

His hand cupped her cheek, and she nuzzled into the touch, sighing. He helped her sit up, slowly. She felt liquid trickle between her breasts, down to her navel, opened her eyes, said, "Oh". Her skin was covered in glistening stripes of cum, painted white, from her breasts to her thighs. Her "Oh" was followed by a "Fuck", breathed out in a whisper.

"What I wouldn't give to take a photograph of that," Snape said casually. "Alas, memory will have to suffice."

"Take a good look, Headmaster," Harrie said, thrusting out her chest.

He did, the weight of his gaze making her skin tingle.

"You look like a whore," he said, and in his mouth, here and now, it was somehow a compliment.

She was smiling when she vanished their cum off her, adding a second Cleaning Charm to thoroughly cleanse her. Her legs were still shaking a bit when she lowered herself to the floor. She put her skirt back on, feeling the absence of her knickers more than ever. Her cunt felt sore, in a well-fucked sort of way.

"Use the Floo," Snape said. "It's only too obvious what happened to you."

"How is it obvious?" she said, frowning and looking down at herself. "I'm clean, I'm dressed, it's fine."

"You look like you've recently taken cock."

"That's not a thing people can tell!"

Snape smirked.

"Is it?" Harrie said, glancing toward Remus.

"You do look somewhat disheveled, and your cheeks are flushed. But people would assume you got angry and shouted at Severus, not that he—"

"Not that I pounded you into my desk, yes, granted. I still would prefer us all to show some prudence."

"Okay," Harrie said.

Remus moved toward the hearth, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, threw it in. Green flames blazed to life. He said the name of their destination—his quarters—and walked in. That was going to be a nice end to her evening, cuddling with Remus in his bed. Maybe have some slow midnight sex just before sleeping.

"Come back tomorrow, Potter," Snape said.

He looked tired, she thought. When his sexual energy had been spent, his face reverted to gaunt features, the little wrinkles around his eyes more prominent.

"I wish you'd let me sleep in your bed," she said. "You don't have to do this alone."

"On the contrary, I have to. And I will."

She approached him and kissed him on the lips, softly, and then, quite on impulse, she hugged him. He stayed still, hands at his sides.

"Hug me back," she demanded.

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her.

"Is there a point to this, Potter?"

"Shut up," she said, and squeezed him hard around the torso.

She kept hugging him up to a good minute, until his hard posture had softened and his arms around her felt less awkward and more natural.

"Thank you," she said. "For what you're doing."

"You hardly need to thank me for the orgasms when I find my own pleasure as well."

"I'm not talking about the orgasms."

She smiled at him, kissed the tip of his nose, which she had once thought ugly, and hurried to the Floo, stepping into the flames before he could berate her for being too sentimental, or something like that.

*

Another week went by, and then it was the Christmas holidays.

Harrie spent her time between her common room, Remus' quarters and Snape's office. With her days free of classes, and her friends away, she quickly got bored, and thus when she wasn't out flying to expend her energy, she was having sex with either Remus or Snape.

That worked well as a stress reliever, too. Death Eaters attacks were growing in frequency, Dumbledore's condition still hadn't improved, and Harrie had no idea what she was supposed to to. Dumbledore hadn't left any instructions in case something happened to him. Snape didn't know what he had wanted to teach her Harrie—or at least he claimed not to know.

So she was left alone, and she worried, her nerves twisting into tight little coils until her stomach felt full of barbed wire.

On the fourth day, she went to the infirmary and asked Madam Pomfrey for a Calming Draught. After asking her a few questions about her mental state, the woman retrieved the potion, choosing a strong dosage.

"Is there any possibility that you might be pregnant, Miss Potter?" she asked.

"What? No! No, that's... that's not possible."

The witch smiled kindly.

"This is a standard question I am obligated to ask," she explained. "One of the ingredients in the potion can cause problems for the fetus' growth."

"I'm not pregnant."

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes. But we take precautions."

"Well, I'm glad you are practicing safe sex," Madam Pomfrey said. "I will cast the spell to check, if that's alright?"

"But I just said—"

"I know, I know. I'm afraid that's procedure. I can't wave it away, even though I know you're a responsible girl."

"Fine," Harrie groaned.

They were taking double precautions. She wasn't pregnant. Unless Remus had super fertile sperm because he was a werewolf, or—no, that wasn't a thing. She wasn't pregnant.

"All good," Madam Pomfrey said with a nod after a swish of her wand. She handed Harrie the bottle of Calming Draught. "Two mouthfuls before bed, and one in the morning if you're still feeling anxious. Then take one mouthful during the day if you feel you need it. Never exceed six doses per day."

"Thank you."

The potion helped, and she felt much better the next day. It snowed, so she spent the morning outside, taking a walk around the lake by herself, enjoying the fresh air. The lake was frozen, its surface crisp and blue, and Harrie made new tracks in the snow as she followed the shoreline, being the first to venture here this morning.

She went back to the castle in time for lunch. There were only a handful of students who had stayed over the break, and four professors—Snape, Remus, McGonagall and Professour Sprout—so they all ate at one table.

Harrie sat next to Snape. She mostly behaved, but sometimes, when no one was looking, she set her hand on his thighs, or bumped his foot under the table. Today, the student who usually sat in front of them was absent, so Harrie felt she could be more adventurous.

She started by trailing her fingers up Snape's thigh, then brushed them over his groin. He stiffened, and not just in posture either. She kept at it, little touches here and there, while she ate her turkey and her roasted potatoes. Snape didn't say anything. Remus asked him something, and he answered, striking up a conversation.

Harrie was pretty sure Remus had noticed what she was doing, but it didn't matter. She rubbed Snape's groin, cupping him lewdly through his clothes. He was hard in his trousers. She was betting he was leaking.

She had to check.

A few words whispered under her breath did the trick. This spell could be cast wandless, and Snape had taught her the incantation. Not on purpose, but he had used it a few times to open his belt while he had both hands occupied. She twisted her wrist, slid her hand into his trousers, seeking... oh yes, his throbbing cock.

It twitched in her hand, and indeed, the head was leaking pre-cum. She thumbed his tip, smeared his own fluid down his shaft, then slowly stroked him, up and down, at a lazy rhythm. Wanking him off in the Great Hall during mealtime, and no one noticed.

Snape was still talking with Remus, while his hand on her side was clenched tight around his fork, the only sign he was affected by her actions. His voice remained normal, even bored. She squeezed him a bit, watched his hand clench and unclench. A muscle jumped in his jaw, near his ear.

One more slow slide of her hand down his engorged prick. She brushed the tip of her fingers against his balls, wrapped her hand back around his cock, pumped him faster, with more aggression, the way he did it himself when he got ready to fuck her, or when he came over her. She gripped him harder, spreading his pre-cum up and down his length, and now it was starting to make noise.

She felt a tremor go through him, smiled. She could have made him come in her hand.

She didn't.

She waited for a second tremor, for his cock to twitch needily once more, and she took her hand away.

Getting up from the table, she exited the Great Hall without looking back. She headed for her common room, walking down the empty corridor leading to the great staircase. She'd nearly made it to the stairs when a hand closed around her forearm. She was grabbed and dragged to the nearest closet, shoved into the dark and narrow space.

The door closed, leaving only the thinnest stream of light under it, not enough to see at all. A lean body pressed her into the wall, forcing her there face-first. A cruel hand knotted hard in her hair while a feet kicked her legs apart. She felt his weight at her back, and the scorching heat of him through his black robes.

"You little tease," he hissed in her ear.

He shoved her skirt up, pulled her knickers to the side. She mewled as the hot head of his cock found her entrance and pushed in. He impaled her in one full thrust, sinking balls deep into her wet heat.

"Slut," he said as he throbbed inside her, every perfect inch at home in her cunt.

She answered with a little whine, rolling her hips. He pressed his other hand to her mouth, began fucking her in bone-rattling thrusts.

"Do you want me to fuck you in the Great Hall, in front of everyone? Because I would, Potter. I would bend you over the teachers' table and ram my cock into you until you squealed. Until everyone knows you belong to me, until there isn't a shadow of a doubt that you're my little slut."

He licked her ear, sucking on the lobe.

"A slut who bends over for her professor and takes his cock at any time of the day."

He pumped hard, his hips slamming into her buttocks, filling her to the brim. Her pulse skyrocketed, heat drenching every inch of her body, her cunt dripping on his cock. The dark space of the closet filled with both their strained breathing, and the wet squelches of his prick pummeling her cunt. His hand over her mouth muffled any noise she could make, her whines staying in her throat, low, vibrating there.

He buried his face in her hair, growling, drove into her harder, the thwacks of flesh against flesh getting louder.

"Perfect little slut, always ready for me. Soaking my cock with her juices... clenching hard around my prick, trying to milk me already..."

She was submerged by his hot words, by his violence, by his passion, by the yearning urgency she could feel in every thrust. He scorched her raw from the inside, striking her cervix with the head of his cock each time he buried himself in her, and with the vague sparks of pain came unbearable pleasure, igniting every nerve of her cunt.

It was fast.

One, two minutes perhaps, of this, of Snape furiously ramming into her, of his hand pressed to her mouth and his body dominating hers, and then she was thrown into the most brutal of orgasms, groaning against his hand, her body bucking back into his. Her muscles strained, her cunt spasming in rippling contractions, a moan of pure, blissful relief burning in her throat.

Snape growled, shoved his cock into her three more times, hard enough to hurt, his hips slamming into her buttocks, sure to leave bruises, then he stilled, and with a snarling roar, he spilled inside her. He remained fully hilted in her until she'd taken every hot spurt of his cum.

"Mmm," he said in a low rumble, rocking his hips in short thrusts, fucking her with a half-hard cock. "You better be prepared the next time you decide to tease me at the table, Potter. I might not have the patience to find a suitable closet, and will just fuck you out in the open."

"You wouldn't."

"Obliviate is a wonderfully useful spell."

He nipped her ear, pulled out, stepped back. She slumped against the wall, her legs trembling.

"I expect you this afternoon in my office."

The door opened, closed.

Harrie groaned. Her cunt was sore as hell, her hipbones hurt from the repeated impacts into the wall, and her body felt like a collection of loose, spent muscles.

Oh, yeah.

Teasing Snape was definitely worth it.

Chapter Text

The wind bit at Harrie's face, whipped at her hair, streamed past her body in strong buffeting blows as she dived, her broom angled straight down.

The ground rushed at her, the white blanket of snow approaching rapidly. At her current speed, impacting it would hurt. She wouldn't die, but she'd break something. Probably multiple somethings. Adrenaline sang through her veins, the lure of danger bringing a wide smile to her lips.

She loved this moment.

That instant where she was plummeting down, hands tight on the handle of her broom, going faster than in free fall, the world reduced to a blur of colors and a kaleidoscope of sensations. The wind, roaring past her ears, the snow, a white wall coming at her, gravity tugging at her body, urging her toward the earth.

There was nothing better in this world. Well, except for sex with Snape and Remus.

Her entire field of vision was white now, the collision a handful of seconds away. Down, down, down...

At the last second, she veered away, yanking on her broom, and up she went again, zooming fast into the sky, laughing, the thrill of that near impact racing like electricity in her veins.

She flew more, doing a few loops, hanging upside down for stretches of time, building up her core muscles, the same ones she used to ride Snape and Remus when she was on top.

She felt good.

She'd taken two doses of Calming Draught this morning, tomorrow was Christmas, and she was confident she could make it to the end of the holidays. Then she'd worry about the rest of the year.

Flipping herself back to a standard flying position, she scanned the ground below, and immediately noticed a black shape down there. Snape stood out against the white snow, his heavy winter cloak billowing in the wind, making him look twice as voluminous as normal.

He gestured to her, one imperative motion that left no doubt as to what he wanted.

She flew down, noted the tightness of his features and the way his eyes flashed at her, that dark gaze pinning her down as soon as she set her feet back on the ground.

"What are you doing flying unsupervised, Potter?"

"No one told me I had to be supervised. I'm just enjoying the weather. Perfect for flying today."

"You've been alone out there for hours," he said, his eyes leaving her a moment to sweep around in a wide arc, then settling back on her, heavily. "Do you even have your wand on you? Are you prepared to repel an attack?"

"Death Eaters are not going to attack me while I'm flying on the Quidditch pitch!"

"They just might," Snape said, and then looked like he regretted saying it.

She froze for a second, reevaluating his behavior. Worried. He was worried for her, and she'd be gone for hours, perhaps he thought—

"Is Voldemort getting that bold now? He'd send his goons to attack the school?"

It seemed impossible. Just as impossible as Dumbledore collapsing before her very eyes, and still being in St Mungo's, with no words of any amelioration.

"Get inside, Potter. You've had your reckless fun."

"I didn't know! If you had told me, then I wouldn't have gone out."

He grunted, and didn't answer. They walked back to the castle in silence.

"Follow," he ordered when they got inside.

They didn't meet anyone on their trip to his office, which was for the best. He could always have said he was giving her detention, but it might have looked suspicious.

Harrie set her broom against one of the shelves of Snape's office, pulled off her gloves, stuffing them into her pockets.

"I always have my wand with me," she told Snape, who was coaxing the fire back to life. "I wouldn't have let them take me."

He said nothing, went to sit in his chair, a large, wooden one with a high back, padded with dark leather. He hadn't kept Dumbledore's chair.

"Sit," he said.

From his tone, she knew where he wanted her to sit, so she came over and plopped herself down on his lap. He immediately began to attack her flying outfit, unwinding her scarf, yanking off her jacket, slipping a hand beneath her shirt. She shivered as his warm fingers crept toward their goal.

"How do you see this ending?" she asked.

He cupped one of her breasts, teasing the nipple.

"With you screaming yourself hoarse as you come all over my cock."

"I mean in general. The war, and... all this."

He had both hands on her breasts now, was kneading them, tweaking her nipples with expert skill, feeding the fire between her thighs.

"You will survive. You'll be the hero of the wizarding world once again, will find yourself a nice Gryffindor boy, will marry him and have the life you dream of."

"That's not what I dream of!" she protested. "A nice Gryffindor boy, are you serious? I want you! You and Remus."

"What we have isn't sustainable, Potter. Surely you're aware of that."

"Says who? Once I defeat Voldemort, I'll have saved the wizarding world again, like you said. They'll accept whomever I choose to live with, even if we are a... a threesome couple."

She would make them accept it.

"A Death Eater and a werewolf?" Snape said, and she could hear his bitter sneer. "You can do better."

"Why are you and Remus like that? Acting as if you don't deserve me?"

It was the first time Snape did it, but she had the feeling it revealed some deeper truth.

"Because heroines don't settle down with two old men, Potter. They find their prince, and they get their happily ever after."

"Are you seriously trying to feed me some fairy tale? This is real life!"

She was so annoyed she wanted to hit him. She didn't, because she knew it was a childish reaction, and that he would rightly point out how childish it was.

"Besides, no one could fuck me as well as you do," she added, grinding her arse into his cock.

"Mmm," he said, one hand busy with her trousers now, unbuttoning them, dragging them down. "So that's the future you picture? With us? Are we all living in the same house? Sleeping in the same bed?"

His tone held something scathing, as if he found it all ridiculous.

"I don't know," she said. "I haven't really pictured it. I just know what I want."

"How typical."

Her trousers were around her ankles, and his hand had reached her knickers. He hooked two fingers into the lace, dragged it down as well, then stroked her folds, dipping his fingers into her while spreading her wetness around.

"Like you wouldn't like to keep fucking me forever," she said, wiggling back against him.

"I will keep taking what you're offering."

He unbuckled his belt, fished his erection out, lifted her and sat her down on his cock. She moaned as she took all of him, her cunt stretching around his girth, aching deliciously.

"Cunt, mouth, arse, Potter. You've let me have it all. I've desecrated every hole of this tight little body."

"I'm not a saint," she said, her breath hitching. "It's not desecration, it's just sex. And I love—love taking your cock in my holes."

He groaned at that, held her hips, thrust up into her. She touched herself, her fingers circling her clit, teasing herself with a feathery touch. It felt nice to be there after flying in the cold, felt nice to have a warm fire burning in the room and a hot, hard cock in her.

"Potter," Snape said in a murmur, his mouth pressed at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"I know," she said, because maybe she did know. Maybe she understood what he meant to say with just her name, said so softly.

The future was uncertain. Who knew how long they could have this? Each other, sharing warmth and pleasure, and knowing that right now, they were safe?

Maybe they would never have it again.

Maybe Voldemort would attack tomorrow.

"Tomorrow's Christmas," she said, meaning more than that, in the same way he had said her name.

Snape didn't answer, kept fucking her, rocking his hips, sucking a bruise at her throat. The old one had faded, and he hadn't bitten her in a while.

"I want a Christmas present," she said.

"I'm not buying you anything."

"A threesome," she gasped when he gave a harder thrust, which made her clench hard around him.

They hadn't had one since before the holidays. She hadn't asked, and Snape no longer intruded when she was sleeping with Remus, which was the case most of the time. As for Remus, he would never initiate one on his own.

"That sounds like a present for all three of us," Snape said.

"Yes," Harrie moaned.

She panted, her cunt throbbing, unable to move much. Snape's hands were tight at her hips, dictating the pace. She was so slick for him, dripping on his cock, while a simmering, coiling tension built in the pit of her belly.

"And this time—oh, fuck—"

"I'm listening," Snape said, smiling against her throat. "Do go on, Potter. Lay out your desires at my feet."

"You know what I want. We haven't done it yet."

Snape growled, shifting behind her, grinding her onto his cock. She threw her head back, so close to coming.

"You want me in your arse while Lupin fucks your cunt," he said, his voice layered with dark lust, the kind that made him drag her into a closet to pound her into the wall.

"Mmmm," she said, couldn't really answer with words.

Her body flushed with swarming heat at the thought of Snape and Remus filling both her holes at the same time. Her cunt clenched strongly, gushing more slick until she could feel her own wetness where Snape was entering her.

"I believe we can accommodate that desire, Potter. I'm sure Lupin will love to fill your cunt while I take your arse."

"Oh, please, yes..."

"Now, come on my cock."

He grabbed her hips harder, lifted her up, slammed her down, shoving his cock deep into her, their flesh slapping together. Again and again, he moved her up and down, making her bounce in his lap, on his prick, while she was spasming around the thick shaft, moaning and gasping, until she screamed herself hoarse as she came all over his cock.

"See? I told you how it would end," Snape said, smugly.

He kept moving her limp body, shoving her down on him, and he came seconds later, pulsing slick heat inside her.

She was so warm and so content she let him have the last word.

*

"I despise Christmas," Snape said.

"Shut up, you don't," Harrie retorted, and she flicked the little bell on top of his hat, making it jingle.

Snape looked like he was two seconds away from dragging her across his lap and spanking her arse red.

"That hat suits you quite well, Severus," Remus said, his tone hiding a smile.

Snape snarled and yanked the hat off his head. Harrie pouted.

"If you two are done having fun at my expense," Snape said, with a glare that encompassed them both.

"Yes," Harrie said, stepping up to him and throwing her arms around his neck. "Now you can have fun inside me," she added, licking his ear.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her head back, his mouth violently meeting hers. His tongue assaulted her, plunging inside, demanding, taking. She surrendered, softening into his arm, letting him control the kiss. He groped her arse with one large hand, bit at her lips, then shoved her down onto the bed.

She sat up, looking at her... lovers? No, that felt wrong. Looking at the men she regularly had sex with. Too long. At her teachers. Okay, that one worked, but it wasn't really descriptive. Maybe lovers could work after all.

They were in Remus' bedroom, because Snape still refused to let her into the Headmaster's bedroom. It was fine. She liked Remus' bed, with its crisp white sheets and its burnished gold blanket. It was a very nice bed.

Also not what she wanted at the moment.

She got up to go kiss Remus. He tilted her head back gently, slid his lips across hers, coaxed her mouth open and tasted it.

"What it is?" he said, sensing her hesitation. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No, it's not that. I just didn't picture us doing it on the bed. I want to be tied up and hanging from the ceiling."

There was a noise from Snape. It sounded like the rumble of a dormant volcano that was close to erupting, pressure pushing against the unyielding earth, striving to break free.

"A bed would be more comfortable," Remus said.

"I don't want to be comfortable. I want to be split open on your cocks."

The same noise from Snape. Harrie rather liked it. She wanted him to make that noise while he was buried in her arse.

"Alright," Remus said. "As long as you remember your safeword."

"Just because I'm not using it doesn't mean I've forgotten it."

"And what is it?" Snape asked, putting his hands on her arse while she was still hugging Remus.

"Quidditch, Headmaster."

"Good slut."

He slapped her arse.

"What do you say, Lupin? A little bit of suspension for our slut?"

Harrie had almost expected him to say 'our Harrie'. But no, not Snape. He never used her first name.

"I've never done anything like this," Remus said, while Harrie pressed kisses to his jaw.

"I have," Snape said, and Harrie felt a stab of jealousy, because it meant he had fucked another woman, had tied her up and come inside her, and Snape was Harrie's.

"When?" she said.

Was it recently? Did he fuck other women when he wasn't fucking her?

"A long time ago."

"How many years?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Jealous, Potter?" he taunted. "Don't be. None of them were worth you. They were meaningless fucks, whenever I needed to let off some steam."

"And I'm not meaningless?"

"You never have been."

He said it flatly, dark gaze burning through her, and Harrie felt a surge of warmth bloom in her chest. She wasn't sure what it meant. Only that it was important for Snape to say that, especially now.

"You're not meaningless either," she said. "None of this. It's not just sex to me," she added, and it really wasn't. Being with them brought her comfort, and a kind of companionship that had been missing from her life until then.

"We know," Remus said, cupping her breasts from behind, caressing her.

"Do you talk about me together?" she asked, leaning back into Remus, smiling at Snape.

"A couple of times," Snape said. "Mostly to discuss your cunt, and what it can handle."

"Fuck," she groaned, grinding back into Remus, rubbing her arse against his hardening cock. "I... I can handle a lot."

Snape's smirk was hungry, his eyes watching Remus knead her breasts roughly.

"And what do you want today, Harrie?" Remus said.

"I want you to fuck my cunt while Snape fills my arse. I want a cock in each hole, and I want— I want you to leave me dripping ..."

Remus groaned hoarsely. His hands gripped her shirt, ripped it open, fabric tearing with a loud sound. Harrie moaned, a beat of liquid heat drenching her cunt. She was spun around, her back hit a hard chest, a hand winding through her hair, forcing her head back. More fabric ripping, as her bra was yanked away, her breasts falling free. Warm, large hands immediately cupped them, and then a mouth attacked them, teeth scrapping at her nipples.

Remus looked up at her while he licked and fondled her breasts, his eyes shining with a feral energy. Snape's hard body molded to hers from behind, his hands busy with her trousers. His tongue licked her throat, earning another moan from her.

She swayed between them, skin tingling with arousal, her heart quickening, the beat echoed between her thighs, where her cunt leaked eagerly. She didn't need foreplay, she was ready right now.

Her trousers were pulled down, while a voracious mouth painted paths of searing heat on her breasts. She keened, writhing from the sensations provided by that mouth, by Remus' hands, groping her still, by Snape's tongue on her throat, sucking at her pulse point, by Snape's hands, one gripping her thigh while the other slipped into her knickers. Then his thumb was sliding through her heat, seeking her clit, pressing tight circles over the little nub, and she whimpered, rocking her hips, vocalizing her pleasure. Tiny moans suffused with need spilled from her tongue, each one with a higher pitch than the last.

Remus groaned, a vibration that rumbled through her body. He sucked hard on one nipple, sending a spike of fire traveling along her nerves.

"I want—" she began, couldn't finish her sentence because Snape had inserted two fingers inside her.

"You'll come first," he said, nipping her tender throat with a pinch of his teeth.

"Yes, sir," she gasped.

"Good slut. Tell Lupin what you think of his tongue on your breasts."

"Mmmm—love it—love his tongue anywhere... You feel so good, Remus..."

Snape grunted approvingly, his fingers prodding hard inside her, thrusting at a fast pace.

"Lick her clit, wolf," he said.

Remus neither objected to being called 'wolf', nor to the order. He knelt down, palmed Harrie's thighs, tugged her knickers down, and put his mouth on her clit. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud, while Snape thrust his fingers deep in her cunt, angling them perfectly. Harrie's chest heaved, drawing air in as she strained and moved her hips, riding Snape's fingers, grinding against Remus' face in a symphony of slick sounds.

She wouldn't last much longer like this, not when they were both fondling and touching and licking, playing her body like an instrument, making her hurtle toward her first orgasm of the evening.

"Guuunnh—ah, ah, please—"

Snape's fingers curled inside her, hitting her g-spot with expert precision. Remus sucked on her clit, entirely engulfing it in wet heat. She mewled, incoherent moans following as pleasure flared, so bright.

"Yes, come," Snape said. "Come all over his face, Potter, do it."

And just like that, she shattered, squirting heavily, wailing and crying out, every inch of her thrumming with flushing heat. Her hips rolled forward in stuttering jerks, her toes curling, body crashing through high waves of pleasure. Snape held her through it while Remus kept licking her clit, until she squirmed from overstimulation and begged for it to stop.

"Good girl," Remus murmured, and he was kissing her, making her taste herself.

She smiled into the kiss, her head spinning from the strength of her orgasm. Both men caressed her, four hands stroking her curves, more hazy heat cocooning her. She closed her eyes, enjoying the treatment.

"Hands, Potter," Snape said after a time.

"Mmm?" she said, opening her eyes, finding Remus smiling at her.

"Give me your hands so I can tie you up."

"Tie me up," Harrie echoed, her cunt twinging with heat at the idea.

Snape grabbed her wrists, snapped a set of cuffs around them. They were metallic, but padded on the inside, so they felt rather nice against her skin.

"Oh," Harrie said, somewhat disappointed. "They won't leave marks."

"You won't need marks to remember what we've done to you," Snape promised.

He had his wand out, conjured a hook affixed to the ceiling, wound the ropes linked to her cuffs there, bringing her arms up above her head.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

He hauled her body up, in one slow movement. Her feet left the floor, and then she was hanging from the hook, her whole weight supported by her arms. A little thrill went up her spine. She wiggled her toes, smiled.

It felt good to be restrained.

She couldn't wait to see how it would feel like when she would get her holes filled. Both of them.

Snape circled her, inspecting her critically. He pinched one nipple, palmed her breasts, slapped her arse, and finally set a hand at her back, humming.

"Did I pass your inspection, Headmaster?" Harrie said.

"Indeed," Snape said. "Now, ask us to fuck you."

She arched her back, wiggling a little. The movement made her breasts jiggle, and her arse, too.

"Please fuck me. Please, I want to be filled with your cocks, and then with your cum... I want... I want both of you to wreck my holes."

"How could we pass up such an inviting offer?" Snape said, while Remus just made a low sound in his throat, his eyes devouring Harrie.

"I mean... it's our Christmas present," Harrie said, so aroused it was nearly painful now. She needed to be touched, needed something in her cunt.

"Perhaps we should put a bow on you," Remus said.

"Stop talking and fuck me."

"Impatient slut," Snape said.

He slapped her arse, and then there was the sound of his belt being unbuckled. Yes, promising. Remus did the same, immediately taking his erection out, stroking it while coming closer to her. Very promising. She moaned at the sight of his thick, heavy cock, glanced back to look at Snape, too, saw him palming his engorged prick while staring at her arse.

"Fill her cunt first," he said to Remus. "I'll join you."

Remus grabbed her thighs, spread them, notched his cockhead at her entrance and slid in. That first thrust made her mewl, the friction sparking all the nerves in her cunt, bringing perfect heat and pressure. Her body tingled, and she pulled on her arms, lifting herself off a bit, grinding back onto Remus. He gripped her thighs harder, brought her firmly against him, and kept her there, her legs dangling off his waist, his prick planted deep in her cunt.

"Don't squirm, Harrie. Stay still for Severus."

"Yes, sir," she said, and she clenched around him.

He smiled at her. Behind her, Snape stroked the globes of her arse, slid a finger along her crack, brushed it against her anus. He muttered the incantation for the lubrication charm, and Harrie felt a rush of liquid warmth into her arse. Then the tip of Snape's finger broached her arsehole. She whimpered, this time clenching around Remus involuntarily.

"Shhh, shhh," Remus soothed her. "Relax, Harrie."

She tried. Snape pushed his finger further inside her, rocking it back and forth in a gentle rhythm. It stung a bit, but nothing Harrie hadn't encountered before. Taking Snape's cock in her arse would always come with some pain, and that was fine. It made the pleasure even better.

His finger pumped in her, steadily, was soon joined by a second one. Harrie focused on breathing slowly, her heart hammering in excitement. Snape fucked her arse with precise jabs of his fingers for a time, while Remus held her, immobile inside her.

"I'm ready," she groaned.

"You want my cock in your arse, Potter?"

"Yes, please..."

His fingers withdrew. The head of his cock nudged her, hot and smooth. He pushed in, applying slow pressure until his cockhead popped inside. The stretch made her mewl, and Remus groaned, probably because she'd just gotten that much tighter around him. Snape pressed forward, in a burning thrust, sinking more inches into her.

She remembered how his cock had felt in her arse, but the position had been different, face down on a bed, and very relaxed. Now, she was upright, arms stretched above her head, and Remus was in her cunt, already taking up space inside her. The sensations felt ten times stronger. Every inch of cock Snape put inside her increased the pressure, dragging little moans out of her, made her want to squirm and squirm, which really wasn't a good idea.

"Steady", he groaned, filling her more. "That's right, take it..."

"Uuugnnh, Snape—"

He stroked a hand down her spine, sank one inch deeper, the rim of her arse contracting as it was widened further by his girth, and Harrie shuddered. There was overwhelming pressure, so intense it left her dazed, her mind reeling from the sheer ache.

"Breathe, Harrie," Remus said softly.

"Such a tight little arsehole," Snape groaned. "It's taking my cock, Potter. Taking it all, mmm..."

He pulled out some inches, pushed forward again, fucking her arse open with short, quick strokes. Harrie gasped, clenching hard, which really didn't help, oh God, she couldn't—

"Ohgodohgodfuckoh—"

"You're doing very well," Remus said, kissing her jaw, and she focused on that instead of Snape's massive cock splitting her arsehole in two, fuck.

"There we go," Snape said, his voice so rough. "I'm almost fully in. A couple more inches, Potter. Can you take them?"

"Yes..."

"Good girl."

He pushed deeper as her chest heaved with shaky breaths, until he was entirely sheathed in her, stuffing her to utter fullness. She was caught between them, their hard bodies pressing against her, Snape at her back and Remus against her chest, and she was impaled, filled with thick, throbbing cocks.

Her mouth was open, small sounds spilling from her lips, sounding desperate, but also... needy? Because she needed more, yes. It wasn't enough to have them both inside her. Her body wanted movement.

"Is that all?" she said. "That's nothing."

They shared a look over her shoulder. Remus' lips tugged up in a smile. It looked much more wicked than his normal smiles, so she imagined Snape had a positively devilish smirk on his face right now.

They moved at the same time. Withdrawing, thrusting back in, together. Harrie wailed at the sudden burst of visceral, electric friction that rocketed through her nerves. Her body locked tight around them, her holes grasping at their cocks, pleasure striking like a shock to her system when they both bottomed out again.

"Fuck, fuck!"

"Oh, yes," Snape grunted, his hands gripping her thighs as well, a bit lower than where Remus was holding her.

They rolled their hips, slowly, fucking into her. She sucked air in, her lungs working hard, chest heaving while her body felt stretched taut and raw, every nerve alight. Each thrust pushed a wheezing noise from her chest, and her cunt was swollen around Remus' cock, her arse pulsing around Snape, her whole body full of them. Her legs trembled with the strain, heat gathering in a glowing, radiant spot at the apex of her cunt.

"You take our cocks well, Potter... dripping all over us... I didn't use any spell on your cunt, and I can hear Lupin thrusting in every time."

Remus groaned hoarsely, shuddering against Harrie. Snape's dirty talk was also affecting him.

"Does my arse—feel good—Headmaster?" she panted.

She tried to clench down on him, but she couldn't just clench her arse, so she contracted every muscle in her lower half instead.

"Harrie," Remus said in a rough moan. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me..."

Snape licked the shell of her ear, breathing heavily.

"Do that again, Potter."

She did, grunting with effort. Remus groaned again, while Snape moaned. The sound poured directly into her ear, hot and dark, adding glowing heat to her cunt, little trembling tendrils snaking down her thighs.

"Merlin, that's good," Snape said.

He thrust a bit faster, one hand slipping down to cup her arse, and she heard his rough breathing, and wondered if he was going to come before Remus did. He usually held out longer, but perhaps this time, since he was in her arse, he'd lose control first.

Remus' pace picked up as well. They alternated their thrusts, Remus surging into her cunt while Snape was withdrawing from her arse, and then the opposite. She was taking them both to the hilt, her holes fluttering in avid twitches, while mewling, hitching sobs flowed from her open mouth.

As pleasure peaked higher and higher, she cried out, bucking against them. Her back arched, shoulders straining hard, her hands clenching as the ropes squeaked above her. She exhaled a soundless gasp, shook her head, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. The pressure inside her body was decadent, consuming every fiber of her being, calling her to oblivion.

She stopped thinking at all, needing one thing and one thing only: to explode in pleasure over both their cocks.

"Our slut needs to come," Snape said as he gave a long, deep thrust. "Help her along, Lupin."

And Remus' fingers were on her clit, and Harrie flew right into an all-consuming orgasm, breathless, the world whiting out as her release thundered through her in cramping spasms. She shook for a full minute, body wracked by powerful tremors, squirting repeatedly, mewling and keening, coming so hard she nearly passed out.

Head lolling forward, she went limp and pliant in their arms, completely drained.

"Potter," Snape said, while Remus groaned her name as well.

"Mmm-nnn..."

She couldn't articulate a single word.

A hand threaded through her hair, grabbed it in a tight hold, forced her head back.

"Shall we come inside you? Do you want us to fill you up, slut?"

She answered with a wanton moan. They went faster, both of them, fucking her in jarring thrusts, forcing their cocks deep, slamming in, their hips moving wildly, while they groaned and grunted and used her. She was impaled on their huge cocks again and again as they sought their own pleasure inside her. They reamed her holes, the wet slap of flesh building to a fever pitch.

Remus broke first, snarling, dumping a load of hot cum into her, thrusting through his orgasm, every stroke growing slicker, her cunt overflowing with his seed. Then Snape bit her, lodging his teeth into her shoulder, and he stilled behind her, his hips pressed flush against her arse, his body shuddering as he pumped her arse full of cum.

"Uh—uh," she slurred, feeling so warm, nearly feverish.

"Sshh, good girl," Remus said.

They held still for a moment longer, finishing orgasming inside her.

Snape removed himself from her, then Remus, and they let her legs down. She winced as her tired arms bore her full weight for a handful of seconds. Snape untied her, removing the cuffs from her wrists, while Remus lifted her in his arms, very gently. She could feel their spend leaking down her thighs.

"You did so well, Harrie. How do you feel?"

"Sleepy," she said, with a smile.

Remus placed her down on the bed, joining her there. She lay on her back, still breathing fast. Her skin was so slick, sweat in places, cum in others. Remus ran his hands over her body, kissed her face, praising her in a low, soothing voice. She half-sat up, kissed him back, reached out with a hand blindly, waving it to the side.

"Snape," she called.

He wasn't gone yet, she could tell by the black shape hovering at the periphery of her vision.

"What is it, Potter? Don't tell me you want more. "

"I want a cuddle."

"No."

"Pleeeaaase. It's Christmas. I want a Christmas cuddle."

"I am not cuddling with you in Lupin's bed."

She turned her head toward him, pouted openly.

"Please," she said. "Just this once."

She saw him hesitate, and she knew she had him. Shuffling toward the edge of the bed, she opened her arms wide, as if asking for a hug.

"Kiss me, at least."

He stepped closer, bent down, gave her a slow, languorous kiss, with a lot of heat and a lot of tongue. Oh yeah, she had him. Quick as a viper, she threw her arms around him, then locked her legs around his waist, hanging on to him with the meager strength she'd gotten back.

"Potter. Get off me this instant."

"Cuddle," she said, and licked his ear.

"You're spreading cum all over my robes, you filthy girl."

"Well you put it there in the first place, so it's not my fault."

He grunted, and she arched her body back. With a long-suffering sigh, he knelt down on the bed with her, wrapping her in the folds of his robes as he hugged her tighter.

"Thank you," she said, nuzzling her face into his warm chest.

She extended a hand behind her, smiled when Remus took it. He closed the distance, huddling at her back, and she hummed happily.

"This is ridiculous," Snape muttered.

"This is what Harrie needs," Remus said.

Yes. Exactly what she needed.

She was so warm, so safe here, in the perfect threesome cuddle.

She ended up falling asleep like that, held close between her two lovers.

Chapter Text

Harrie was tied to the bed.

She was very happy about it. First of all, it was Snape's bed, and she was in his bedroom. The Headmaster's bedroom, where he had finally allowed her presence.

Second, she was about to get fucked. And not gently either. No, going by the way Snape was roughly undressing her, tearing away her clothes, he was going to fuck her hard.

"Oh!" she squealed as he ripped her blouse off her, fisting a hand in the fabric and yanking it off her. He had to have used a nonverbal spell to help with that, there was no way he was that strong.

"Silence," he said, and he landed a harsh slap to her arse.

She wasn't sure what she had done to get him in this mood. Perhaps it was because the holidays were ending soon. It was Friday night, and on Monday, classes would start again, all the students would come back, and Snape would have to teach them again.

Yes, perhaps that was why she was currently tied up to the bed, kneeling, and losing her clothes at a staggering speed. Snape needed to relax, and had chosen 'fucking Harrie' as the method for it—which was all very fine by her. Getting pounded by Snape was one of her favorite activities.

Her knickers went next, the lace torn up from the vigorous yank Snape inflicted. Harrie groaned, even as the violence of the act inflamed her further. Snape shifted to settle fully behind her, palmed her arse. He hadn't removed a single article of clothing, while she was now entirely naked.

"Are you wet for me, Potter?"

How was she supposed to answer that? He had told her not to speak.

"Mmm," she said, grinding back against him.

He slid rough fingers down the crack of her arse, broached her cunt from behind, pushing two digits into her. She clenched hard around him, lust bolting up her spine, a thick, hot wave of electricity taking hold of her nervous system.

"You want me," he said, voice pitched very low.

"Mmmmm."

"You want me. Say it."

"I want you. Of course I want you."

He pumped his fingers into her, pushing as deep as he could, pausing for several seconds each time they were fully in, then withdrawing them extremely slowly, before pushing them back in. Each drive forward stimulated her walls deliciously, and made a lot of slick noises, more so than the usual. She had a feeling Snape was doing it on purpose.

"...so wet," he groaned, "...dripping on my fingers..."

Yes, very much on purpose.

"Please," she said, arching her back, squeezing her thighs together.

Snape breathed out audibly, his lips kissing Harrie's throat, sliding wetly down to her shoulder. She made a happy sound, dipped her head back, baring more of her throat for him. He took the invitation, sucking on her skin while his fingers rocked inside her, and now she was caught between those two points of contact, his mouth, his fingers, and she was melting, her whole body one steady throb of heat.

"Snape..."

His nose followed the line of her throat as he pressed slow kisses there, until he had reached her jaw.

"What do you want me to do?" he murmured.

His fingers stroked the insides of her cunt, curled in a precise motion, finding—

"Snape!"

—that perfect angle, and grinding, grinding right where the tension was coiled. The cuffs rattled as she pulled on her arms, gyrating her hips, huffing out little moans. Through the pleasure, Snape's voice washed over her.

"Tell me what you want. I'm letting you choose tonight. Anything."

Anything? Anything... She thought about riding his fingers like that until she came, thought about Snape lying on his back while she rode him, thought about him taking her arse again, while fucking two fingers inside her cunt, stuffing her full of him in every possible way.

"I want... I want you to lick me."

"Speak louder."

"I want you to lick my cunt."

His teeth nipped at her throat, his tongue soothing the half-bite immediately, laving wet heat on her feverish skin.

"Certainly, Potter. I'll lick your cunt. I'll lick it until you squirt on my face."

Oh, God. He couldn't say things like that! Harrie was going to come before his tongue even touched her cunt.

Trembling, she followed his lead as he made her spread her legs, then lifted her hips off the bed. He lay down on his back, his face under her, and then he grabbed her thighs and lowered her down until his mouth was—yes, yes—on her cunt.

A raspy, needy groan left her lips. Her hands gripped the headboard and clenched there. She was so wet she was dripping even now, into his mouth. His nose was sort of jammed against her cunt, near her clit, and the pressure was already heavenly. Her hips jerked forward in a reflexive stutter, as she ached for more, ached to grind her cunt down on Snape's face until she came.

His hands gripped her thighs harder, bringing her back into place, stopping her from losing her mind in a heated frenzy.

"You will let me lick your cunt," Snape rumbled from below.

"Yes... Oh, yes, yes..."

He started by kissing her. A plush, full kiss, on her cunt, his lips so soft and warm there. One kiss turned into a second one, a third, running up and down her slit, his mouth smearing her slick around, and she clung to the headboard and moaned, loudly. Her thighs muscles flexed, her cunt contracting, begging to be filled.

She dropped her head, her chin hitting her chest as she exhaled in a hiss. Snape growled under her, the pressure of his mouth increasing. Their eyes met. His pupils were blown wide, dark with hunger, lit by an energy so carnal and so possessive a wave of raw heat surged up in her, and she almost came, just from that look.

"Snape," she whispered, and maybe she meant something else by that.

Maybe she meant lick me, maybe she meant never stop, maybe she meant anything you want, too, anything, anything.

He licked her, tongue wide and flat over the length of her slit. His nose nudged her folds, his mouth moving back and forth in a steady rhythm, one that turned her bones to liquid and had her mewling non-stop. His gaze was too intense. It seared through her as he ate her out, burning, burning, asking something of her, she didn't understand what, but it wasn't stopping, and she couldn't answer it, she didn't understand —

She closed her eyes, moaning his name. He grunted a word into her cunt, licked and licked, his tongue sweeping through her folds, settled over her clit, sending iridescent shards of pleasure into her bloodstream, and she quaked from it all, cresting higher, higher...

Then his tongue delved into her cunt. It happened suddenly, when she was expecting a lick. Instead, she got a spear of heat right into her needy center, and she squealed.

And she came.

A glowing, unexpected orgasm, spreading in slow waves, as gentle as Snape's tongue, which he kept pushing up in her. He tongue-fucked her until she slumped forward, her head fuzzy with heat, the afterglow pulsing in languid waves through her body.

She felt him move, the bed dipping with his motions. His hands gripped her hips. His mouth was back at her throat, sucking softly on her pulse point. She dimly registered the sound of his belt, a shuffle of fabric.

The blunt head of his cock pressed at her entrance.

He filled her in one slick slide, paused, giving her time to adjust to his entry. She moaned, weakly pushing back against him, wanting to tell him she was ready but lacking the breath for it. The cuffs rattled again.

"Sshh, relax. I've got you." He pressed a kiss just behind her ear. "I've got you."

He draped his body over her, his chest molded to her back, his mouth at her throat, and he moved in her, slowly, sensually. His deep thrusts filled her as he pushed home in lazy, languid roll of hips. He caressed her while she throbbed around him, her cunt pulsing in gentle ripples of heat, cradling his cock each time he drove into her.

Eyes closed, she rode the waves of pleasure, gasping erratically, blanketed by Snape's heat, feeling so safe in his embrace. Goosebumps spread across her back, down her thighs, their labored breaths echoing in the silence of the room.

"So soft, so good..." Snape murmured, rocking between her thighs. "Such a sweet cunt... you feel perfect..."

She replied with a warbling little keen, a shivery, electric shudder going through her limbs as she leaked more slick onto his cock. He groaned, angled his hips differently, thrusting just a little bit faster, putting more pressure on that marvelous spot inside her that kept sparking with heat.

"So perfect..."

He kissed the side of her jaw, murmuring more gentle words in that gravelly voice, and her heart ached. Assaulted by a wave of emotions, she produced a low moan, tears prickling in her eyes while her throat tightened unbearably. She felt so close to him. Not just physically, but in the realm of the mind as well, as if they were in each other's head right now, sharing a Legilimency link. The intimacy was staggering.

Turning her head, she met his gaze, dark, bottomless, and brimming with unsaid things. Her lower lip trembled. There was so much in his eyes, so much she couldn't—

He kissed her. Sealed his mouth over hers, then teased her with his tongue, in soft licks and steady glides, all so gentle. Gentle, the measured pace of his hips, gentle, his hands caressing her body, and gentle, his mouth on hers. She had expected a rough fuck, but actually, he had never been this tender.

It felt like... like he was making love to her. But Snape couldn't—he didn't—

With a shaky moan, she dragged her mouth away from his, and dropped down to the bed, pressing her forehead into the cool sheets. There, her eyes screwed shut, she arched back into Snape, wordlessly asking him to speed up. To take her hard, to make her come, to find oblivion in her while she did the same.

And maybe they really were connected through more than flesh, because he instantly gave her what she had asked for, gripping her hips and pumping with more force into her. Hunched over her, he rutted hard, ramming into her from behind, until she cried out, quivering around his cock, muffling her whimpers into the sheets.

Her whimpers, and then her sobs, and she was crying, and she didn't understand why—why, why did she feel like her chest was bursting open, like she was losing something, gaining something else, why, why—

Snape slid a hand between her legs, found her clit, petted it, and she came, in a blinding shock of sensations, sobbing harder, cresting that peak of pleasure, gushing liquid around Snape's cock. Her entire body buzzed with flushed heat, the ache in her chest unfurling and pouring away, a soft whine pulled from her lips.

Snape's thrusts turned erratic. He ground his hips into her rump, and when he came, he said her name.

Not Potter.

Harrie.

Harrie, groaned in a desperate, utterly tender manner as he spilled inside her, adding more heat to her cunt.

She was certain she would never forget how her name sounded from his lips, right in this moment. Why had no one ever said it like that? It now seemed the only way it could be said, ever. Like—like—

"Shhh, don't cry," Snape said, and she realized she was still sobbing, her chest heaving rapidly, tears dripping down her cheeks.

Snape untied her, held her in his arms, using his thumb to wipe her tears, then his lips, kissing them all away. Her breathing slowly evened out, her eyes drying up. She sniffled, pressed her face into his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said, squeezing her in a tight hold, lips close to her temple.

"Why?" she said, distantly marveling that Snape could even say such words.

"For making you cry."

"I forgive you."

So easy to say. I forgive you. Of course she did.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness," he said, and now his eyes were hard. Two chips of obsidian, unbreakable, unreachable.

"Shh," she replied.

She kissed him, showing him her forgiveness like that as well, with her lips on his, and her hand cupping the back of his head, and her tongue tentatively licking into his mouth. He wasn't as keen to reject that, oh no. He kissed her back, and they did that for a while, sharing hot breaths.

Eventually, he spelled them clean, settled on his side while holding her in his arms, and tugged the blanket over them both.

"Am I allowed to sleep in the Headmaster's bed?" she said in a light joking tone, eyes closed, fatigue weighing heavily on her.

"I would have you in my bed every night."

There was something missing to that sentence. What was it? If I could? If you wanted? If we had more time?

"I'd be in your bed every night," she said.

If he answered anything, she didn't hear it, already asleep.

*

She woke alone.

She knew she was alone in the bed because she was cold, and she was never cold with Snape. Shivering, she tried to burrow deeper into the blanket, tugging it back over her with both hands, but she couldn't, because—clink—

Because she had one hand tied to the headboard.

By reflex, she tugged on the cuff—clink, clink—then sat up swiftly, glowering at her trapped hand.

"Snape?"

The bedroom appeared void of any dungeon bat. For some reason, she was half-bundled up in his heavy winter cloak, and she had pyjamas on, a pair of dark and cozy trousers along with a soft top that she didn't recognize. She pushed the cloak away, kicked the blanket back, shifted to her knees, tugging at the cuff with an annoyed huff.

"Snape!"

Clink, clink, clink, and that stupid cuff was so sturdy.

"Snape, come on!"

She found her glasses on the bedside table, put them on, darted a keen gaze around the room. She didn't see her wand anywhere. Had he taken it? Leaving her figuratively naked?

"Accio Harrie's wand!"

And it didn't come. He had taken it.

Fuck.

Why the hell would he do that? Cuffing her to his bed, with no wand? Was this some sort of weird power play?

"Quidditch," she said, just in case he was hiding somewhere, and getting off on seeing her struggle.

She would have preferred it, but the safeword failed to produce any result. Squinting her eyes at the cuffs, she focused, inhaled, exhaled.

"Alohomora."

Nope. Still couldn't do it. She wasn't Hermione, who had managed a wandless Alohomora in Defense last month. Did Snape know that wasn't within her capabilities? Had Remus told him?

She twisted her wrist, trying to force her hand through the circle of metal, quickly gave up when it was clear that wouldn't work. The headboard of the bed was made from wrought iron, and she'd never be able to make it budge either. So... so for the moment, she was stuck here.

Until Snape came back.

She sat with her back to the headboard, wondering what time it was. She couldn't do a wandless Tempus either. She could manage cleaning charms, for all the good those would do.

"You better have a damn good explanation," she muttered out loud.

She waited, wondering what Snape could be doing right now. If it was early morning, and it roughly felt like it to Harrie, was he in the Great Hall, taking his breakfast? Was Remus asking where Harrie was? Did Remus know—no, Harrie couldn't imagine he did.

Perhaps Snape wasn't at Hogwarts at all. Perhaps he'd been called by Voldemort, and had cuffed her to his bed because he wanted her to be there when he would come back. But he could have left a note, then.

No, no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't find any viable justification for this.

She was going to try to cast a wandless Patronus—even less chance to succeed than the Alohomora—when she heard sudden noises coming from the office. Footsteps, coming this way. She pivoted to get to her knees again, got ready to yell at Snape.

The door creaked open.

It wasn't Snape.

"I fucking knew it," Draco said, a curious smile on his face. "I knew it! I knew he was fucking you!"

He had his wand out, was pointing it right at her, and he sounded out of breath.

"Malfoy. What are you doing here?"

She didn't even care he was seeing her in Snape's bed. If he was here, that meant something had happened to Snape, because he would never have let Draco into his office, into his bedroom, where he could see Harrie in his bed.

"Improvising," Draco said, still with that strange smile on his face. "Accio Potter's wand."

When nothing happened, he laughed.

"Merlin, he left you all wrapped up for me, didn't he? Even easier than I thought. You'll come along, Potter, or I'll stun you."

"What, to Voldemort? You're gonna hand me over and watch him kill me? I knew you hated me, but I hadn't realized you were this callous."

"Don't fret. The Dark Lord wants you alive. I suppose Snape didn't even bother to tell you the news."

Harrie stared, the sentence rattling around in her head.

"That doesn't make sense," she said. "He wouldn't—no, that's—"

She swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling obstructed.

"Voldemort lied to you," she said. "He said he wouldn't kill me so you'd agreed to bring me to him, because otherwise you wouldn't have."

"It's the truth. We all have orders not to hurt you. He's not after your life anymore."

So he truly was a Death Eater. She registered the information from afar, her brain busy with other, more urgent matters.

"Where's Snape?"

"No idea. Well, he's not here, is he?"

There was a victorious gleam in his eyes.

"I'll be the one to bring you to Voldemort," he said, his strange smile growing wider. "Me. He'll honor me for doing his bidding."

"And then he'll Crucio you because he's in a bad mood."

"Shut up! You don't know anything!"

He jabbed his wand toward her, and a few errant sparks burst from the tip. Harrie nearly recoiled. That was the kind of thing seen with first-years, when they were just learning to use their wands, letting their emotions bleed all over their magic. Such a loss of control from Draco right now meant he wasn't well. It meant he was sleeping badly, and stretched all over emotionally, and it meant he was dangerous.

"Alright," Harrie said, calmly. "I don't know anything. You'll bring me to Voldemort, then?"

"Yes. Yes, I will. He'll—"

There was a flash of red behind him, and he suddenly crumpled forward. A hopeful, stupid part of Harrie expected to see Snape enter the bedchamber, and was disappointed when it was Remus.

"Harrie, are you alright?" he asked, scanning the room with an alert gaze.

He freed her with a nonverbal spell, came closer, turning to survey the door. Harrie hopped off the bed, set a hand on his arm.

"Do you know where Snape is?"

Remus shook his head.

"Where's your wand?" he said, his jaw clenched. "We need to leave, right now."

"Snape took it."

Remus cursed, shockingly so.

"There's no time," he said, turning to her. "The Ministry has fallen. There are Death Eaters here, at Hogwarts. We have to leave the castle."

Harrie's heart skipped several beats. Her mouth went dry, and a for moment the whole world rang hollow.

"Here?" she echoed thoughtlessly.

"Yes," Remus said in a grim tone.

"But... how did they get in?"

"Severus let them in."

"...no. No, he wouldn't."

Remus hissed a noise through his teeth, something frustrated, angry.

"He's Headmaster. The wards are down. He let them in."

Harrie said nothing. She swayed on her feet, and she wished she had her wand in hand, to cast a spell, to expel some of her pain through a blast of magic.

"The school isn't safe for you anymore. Harrie, listen to me. Harrie!"

"Yes," Harrie said, reflexively.

She forced herself to look at Remus. He grabbed her hand, squeezed it in a reassuring motion.

"There's a Floo point in a room on the fifth floor, a room with a gray door. We have to reach it. It connects to another Floo, and there's an enchantment on it that will prevent anyone from following us."

"An escape route."

"Yes." His thumb rubbed the inside of her palm. "Stay behind me. And if I tell you to run, you run. You leave me behind, do you understand?"

"Don't ask me to do that."

She couldn't. She couldn't lose Remus too.

"You have to, Harrie. Please."

His light green gaze held a lot more than 'please'. It hurt her, too, but there was no time to examine why in detail.

"Okay," she just said.

Remus exhaled.

"Thank you," he said.

He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, headed for the door. Harrie followed closely. She paused before stepping over Draco, and, after a moment of hesitation, took his wand. There was no guarantee it would work for her. She hadn't been the one to disarm him, so the wand had no allegiance to her, and considering how Draco felt about her, his wand might very well refuse to do anything at all for her.

But she needed a wand to hold. It made her feel just a little bit better.

Remus went through the office, started down the stairs. He stopped and listened before opening the gargoyle door. They both slipped through, found themselves outside the Headmaster's office, and for a handful of seconds, Harrie could believe that Remus was wrong, and that everything was normal, because there was no sign of anything being different.

Then the loud cackle of a woman rang through the air. Ice crept down Harrie's spine. Remus jerked his head left, his wand trained on the end of the corridor. Harrie hurried toward the grand staircase, praying it would be free of any Death Eaters. They needed to go up three floors to reach their escape point.

She glanced back to make sure Remus was following her, and not straying off in a foolish attempt at confronting Bellatrix to give Harrie more time. He ran after her, while they both tried to keep their footsteps silent.

Another cackle made goosebumps erupt all over Harrie's arms. Why did that sound like the cry of a sick hyena? A hyena on the hunt, drool dripping from her maw...

"Little girlie Harrie! Where are yooouuuu?"

She spoke in a sing-song manner, which grated horribly in Harrie's ears.

They reached the third floor, kept going, climbing step after step. Harrie glanced back again toward Remus, saw she was ahead by a lot.

"Go!" he mouthed at her.

She only saw the spell coming because she was looking at him. The red jet of a Stunner, flashing behind him, passing over his left shoulder, and heading straight for her. She ducked, fired back a spell, immediately. Draco's wand buzzed in her hand, making her fingers tingle, but it channeled the magical energy properly, and her Stunner crashed into Bellatrix's Protego.

"Ah, there you are, little Harrie!" the witch said, showing her teeth in a twisted smile. "We were looking for you!"

'We' meant not only her, but also Lucius and another burly Death Eater, a blond bloke that had to be Rowle. Harrie sent another spell at Bellatrix, while Remus shielded against an attack from Lucius. They scrambled up the stairs, defending against numerous spells, an offensive flurry the Death Eaters threw at them. The jets of light met their shields, or ricocheted off the walls, and smoke and spell-light wove about the staircase, while Bellatrix's shrill cries split the air.

"The Dark Lord wants you, Harrie!"

A jet of white light clipped her shield, which wasn't as strong as usual since it was cast with Draco's wand. She groaned at the impact, felt warm blood trickle down her arm.

"Stuns on Potter, only Stuns!" Lucius roared at Rowle.

Rowle replied something unhappily, his words lost over the sizzling of another spell fired by Bellatrix. Remus intercepted it, retaliated with a double assault, sending one purple streak at Bellatrix, and almost in the same motion, a bright electric blue bolt toward Rowle. The purple spell crackled against Bellatrix's shield, but the blue bolt struck Rowle right in the face, and he went down, tumbling backward several steps until his unconscious body stopped on the fourth floor landing.

"Oh, the wolf has teeth!" Bellatrix giggled.

She followed that remark with a series of vicious spells, all aimed at Remus, while Lucius focused on Harrie, trying to Stun her. Harrie snapped up a shield, Remus did the same, and they exchanged another volley of spells with the duo of Death Eaters, who were gaining on them.

They reached the fifth floor, fought in the corridor, in a more confined space. A hex exploded in a shower of sparks near Harrie's head, and Bellatrix cursed.

"Won't you stop moving, Harrie, girlie," the dark witch said with a sickly-sweet smile. "The Dark Lord doesn't want you hurt, oh no..."

"Why?" Harrie panted, stepping back into a defensive stance, glancing around for a gray door. "He wanted to kill me so badly, what's changed?"

"He'll tell you himself. Come. Come, and we'll let the wolf go, I promise..."

Harrie knew better than the believe her.

"Fuck you and your snake tongue," she snarled.

Bellatrix hissed, staggering back when one of Remus' spell hit her shield hard. In the same moment, Remus set a hand on the wall, and Harrie saw that he was bleeding, his fingers dripping crimson. She grabbed him by the arm, stumbled forward, deflected another incoming spell, her heart slamming against her ribs, her calves cramping, her lungs heaving.

Where was that fucking door?

She glimpsed a red flash at the very corner of her eyes, ducked, powering forward, still gripping Remus. She could hear him pant as hard as her, could hear him growl spells between strained breaths, both offensive and defensive ones.

Harrie nearly missed the door.

It was so inconspicuous, painted a drab gray. She must have passed it a hundred times before to get to her History of Magic classes, and had never given it a single thought. It looked like it would open onto a storage closet.

She yanked it open, Remus right on her heels—thank God he was here, thank God she hadn't lost him—slammed it closed, held it while Remus locked it with a spell.

"Done," he gasped, and he grabbed her, shoving her toward the fireplace.

He took a handful of Floo powder from the metallic bowl resting on the mantle, threw it in. The fire roared to life, green and sparkling. The door rattled, wood splintering as something heavy struck it. Harrie grasped Remus right back, and—

"Bombarda!"

The door exploded inward right as they were stepping into the fire. Harrie glanced back, saw Bellatrix's pale face, the rictus twisting her mouth, the fury blazing in her eyes.

"You can't escape him, Harrie!"

It all faded away, and vertigo seized Harrie as she was being spun about. She closed her eyes, taking comfort in Remus' grasp on her shoulder, tight and firm, and she knew that he'd get her to safety.

She had escaped Hogwarts. Her wand lost, her arm stinging painfully, and her heart...

Her heart torn in two.

Chapter Text

Harrie opened her eyes.

In the dark bedroom, the dying embers of the fire were smoldering in the hearth. A gentle silence cocooned her, along with steady warmth, stronger at her back. She shifted her gaze toward the window, determined there were at least a few hours before dawn, given the total absence of light.

A few more hours of comfort and shared intimacy.

She didn't want to go back to sleep just yet.

Stretching slightly, she ground back into the firm body behind her, seeking a reaction. Remus groaned, and shifted his arm, bringing it back against her. His hand groped one of her breasts through her shirt. She sighed, wriggling her arse purposefully.

His lips found her temple, slid to her cheek in a searing wet path. The hand that was kneading her breast headed down, grazed her navel, stopped at the waistband of her pyjamas. Two fingers hooked into the fabric, dragged the trousers down, until they were around her knees. Then they trailed back up, brushing her inner thighs, and slipped into her knickers.

A soft moan left her lips as Remus rubbed her slick sex, fingers sliding back and forth, producing wet noises. She reached back, twisting her arm until she could insinuate a hand under his clothes and wrap it around his cock. His erection strained under her fingers, twitching at her touch.

She stroked him, so slowly, enjoying every second of the moment. Remus' slow breath near her ear, his lips that he kept pressing against her skin, spreading kisses everywhere, his fingers working between her legs, the building heat...

When he slipped his fingers inside her, spearing right into her wet heat, she mewled in pleasure and tugged harder on his cock, thumbing the fat, blunt tip.

"Remus..." she said with a moan.

His fingers slowed, his thumb grinding down on her clit. Her hips jerked, and she breathed out a shuddered little moan, which resonated loudly in the silent bedroom. He kept stimulating her clit, until she whined impatiently at him, squeezing his erect shaft a bit too hard, scraping the skin with her nails.

That got him to groan, and he finally removed his fingers, replacing them with—God, yes—his cock, filling her dripping cunt with all those glorious, thick inches.

She exhaled happily once he was fully sheathed inside her. He kissed his way down to her throat, starting moving. He fucked her with slow, rolling thrusts, holding her tight, one hand clutching her hip while he had his other arm braced around her shoulder.

Harrie closed her eyes, letting the waves of gentle pleasure submerge her. Drowning in warmth, and suffused by Remus' affection, she shivered, moaning lowly, occasionally clenching around him. He was burning into her core, gently possessing her, and she was rocking back against him, her breathing progressively getting faster.

She wasn't thinking about anything.

Her world had shrunk down to this, to the dark bedroom, to Remus so close to her, their bodies molded to one another, merging again and again, until she wasn't sure where she began and where he ended, and there was no room for anything else.

They kissed, panting into each other's mouth. She grasped at him, her hands closing over tense muscles, her cunt clinging to his cock. Tremors rolled through her, and there was so much warmth, she felt as if at the heart of a bonfire, protected by magic, surrounded by roaring flames that licked at every inch of her bare skin.

It was perfect.

She couldn't have said who came first.

There was a flash of light behind her eyelids, electricity prickling along her nerves, every single one, and she shook, hitting a pinnacle of sensations, while Remus groaned. His cock pulsed into her clenching cunt. They shuddered together, small, strangled whimpers issuing from Harrie's throat as Remus breathed rapidly, his warm, gentle mouth trailing down her cheek.

She relaxed with a content sigh, her limbs heavy, her body sated. Remus placed a tender kiss upon her lips. He was careful when he slipped out of her, and took care to clean them both, wordlessly. Harrie turned until she was facing him, snuggled closer, hiding her face into his chest. He held her tightly. His hand cradled the back of her head, and he threaded his fingers through her hair.

He smelled so good, all musk and male and Remus. He made her feel so safe.

Safe...

Her thoughts flitted to Snape. The Potions Master's harsh face flashed in her mind, and her heart ached.

No, she told herself firmly. No, no.

She grabbed Remus' face, kissed him, hard. He kissed her back, just as hard. She lost herself in that kiss, until she wasn't thinking about him anymore, wasn't thinking at all.

"Make me sleep," she said against Remus' lips.

He sighed, his hand sliding down to her nape. Harrie knew he didn't like doing it, but it worked, and it was their best option at the moment. They didn't have the necessary ingredients to brew sleeping draughts, and buying either the ingredients or the potions themselves could have aroused suspicion.

And it was such a simple solution, with no side-effects.

Remus caressed her hair, kissed her forehead.

"Somnus," he whispered.

And she knew peace.

*

She woke much later, to an empty bed.

Turning over, she splayed a hand out over Remus' spot, sighed. He rarely stayed with her past dawn. And he refused to tell her where he was going. She only knew he was hunting for Horcruxes, along with Hermione and Ron.

Horcruxes.

He had explained to her what they were, not long after they had escaped Hogwarts and come to this little cottage. She'd been reeling from Snape's betrayal, her feelings scorched raw, and Remus' words had rained down on her like additional blows. Voldemort had hidden away parts of his soul into objects. They knew what those objects were, but not precisely where they were. They had to find them and destroy them all before they could attempt to move against Voldemort.

When Harrie had asked how on earth he'd discovered that, Remus had said Fawkes had brought him some documents that explained it all.

"A failsafe left by Dumbledore," he'd said, "in case something should happen to him."

So now Remus was out there, hunting for Horcruxes, and Harrie had to stay here, shuttered away in the tiny house.

She hadn't set a foot outside in two months. She hadn't seen her friends in two months, hadn't spoken to anyone but Remus in two months.

"It's too dangerous," Remus kept repeating. "They're looking for you everywhere. You have to lay low, Harrie, we cannot take any risks."

"But you take risks! You go out there!"

And he'd give her excuses about being more experienced, and less important, and Harrie usually just walked away from him, because she couldn't stand to have the same argument over and over. Sometimes she kissed him instead, and they had sex, and that made her feel better for a while, until the endorphins dissipated.

She got out of bed, went into the bathroom. She stood under the hot spray of the shower for a long time, slightly swaying on her feet, back and forth, in a mindless motion. Eventually, she soaped herself up, let the water wash everything off, and dried herself with a spell when she left the shower.

She dressed in clothes that Remus had procured for her, comfortable beige trousers and a white blouse. Grabbing Draco's wand from the bedside table, she slid it into her pocket.

The kitchen smelled of coffee. Remus had left a fresh pot of it on the table, kept warm by a Charm. She poured herself a large cup, sat, facing the window as she always did. Staring out at the edge of the forest, imagining herself out there.

The leaves rustled in the wind, a slight drizzle raining down. The sky was a muted gray, the sun barely a shadow behind the clouds. The house was located alone at the end of the road, in a small wizarding village by the name of Barnton. They had no immediate close neighbors, the nearest house being at the other end of the lane, around a hundred meters away.

Harrie sipped her coffee, and tried not to think of Snape. As usual, she failed.

What might he be doing right now? Was he also thinking of her? Was he hurting at all, or did he not care that he had abandoned her? Betrayed her, right after... after making love to her?

A bitter swell of emotions choked her up. She forced down her mouthful of coffee, set a hand to her chest, inhaled and exhaled, slowly. She'd had two months to reflect on that night, on that morning. Two months to think back, two months to hope it would stop hurting that much.

It hadn't.

It hurt exactly the same.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness."

Fucking right, he didn't.

She finished her cup, rinsed it in the sink, set it to dry, next to the one left by Remus. She wondered how early he had departed the house, and how late he'd be coming back. He always came back so late. Exhausted, too, and on more than one occasion, bloody.

Walking into the living room, she snorted at the newspaper left right in the middle of the table, opened at the crosswords section.

I'm not doing crosswords, Remus.

She sat in the armchair closest to the window, Accio'd the book she'd been reading. The slip of paper she was using as a bookmark had frayed edges. She unfolded it, staring at the words on the paper.

Six Horcuxes.

1- Riddle's diary: destroyed

2- Gaunt's ring: destroyed

3- Slytherin's locket: location unknown

4- Hufflepuff's cup: location unknown

5- Ravenclaw's diadem: location unknown

6- Nagini: close to Voldemort at all times

Three of them left to find, and God knew where they were. At least her friends were not going after Nagini. That would wait until the snake was the last Horcrux.

She folded the paper again, started reading her book where she had left off yesterday. It was a wizarding novel, set in the 18th century, the tale of a Muggle-born witch masquerading as a Pure-blood to get closer to one man in particular, whom she aimed to kill. Except she was starting to fall in love with him, and was now hesitating in her mission. Harrie hoped she'd end up killing him, if only to spare herself the heartbreak of falling in love with an arsehole.

A repeated tapping at the window made her lift her head from the book. The tawny owl tapped his beak once more against the glass, sort of glowering at her. She let him in, took the newspaper from his claws, paid him his due, and watched him fly back out with an annoyed hoot.

She sat back in the armchair, set the newspaper on her lap.

And froze as she stared right into familiar dark eyes. Snape was scowling at her from the front page, his photo taking up the entire right side.

Severus Snape confirmed for Headmaster, read the title.

Harrie quickly scanned the article, but learned nothing new. It said Snape had been named Headmaster in full by the Board of Governors this morning, after three months of serving as interim Headmaster following the sudden illness of Dumbledore. There wasn't even a quote from Snape.

She turned to page two.

Harrie Potter still on the run! said another article.

This one was all about the fact that she was a criminal, a dangerous subversive figure that needed to be stopped for the good of the wizarding world. She was also 'mentally unstable', and 'a troubled thrill-seeker', and 'bloated by her own self-importance'. The reward for her capture had gone up. It was now one hundred thousands Galleons.

Page three was a series of articles about the threat Muggle-borns represented, and how they were stealing magic from upstanding Pure-bloods and polluting wizarding society. There were testimonies of a number of Pure-bloods that had felt their magic weaken when forced to live in close proximity to Muggle-borns, and a 'confession' from a Muggle-born witch, who admitted she'd stolen a wand and some magic from a Pure-blood child.

It was sad to see that the Prophet was now entirely under Voldemort's control, printing his vile propaganda for all to read.

Harrie set the newspaper down, stared at Snape's face. He was scowling at her, rather furiously. She scowled back, then turned the paper over so she wouldn't have to see him anymore.

She read her book, until it was time for lunch. She made herself an omelet, with a salad on the side. They only had three eggs left, and half a bottle of milk. She added both items to the shopping list, which was getting quite long. Remus hadn't gone out to get groceries in a while. He'd gotten suspicious looks last time, and thought it best to lay low for a while.

They could probably stretch their current stock for another week, Transfiguring more food from what they currently had, but after a while both the source food and the Transfigurated one lost all flavor, and every meal tasted like bland slop.

"You still get all the calories," Remus had said, encouragingly.

Bland food bothered him much less than her. She missed the Hogwarts feasts.

She also missed the easy camaraderie that was found at the Gryffindor table. Now she took most of her meals alone. She didn't even have Hedwig. She'd fled Howarts without her, and because of the Fidelius Charm upon the cottage, Hedwig couldn't find her.

In the afternoon, Harrie read more of her book, until she arrived at the end. The Muggle-born heroin saved the Pure-blood's life when someone else tried to kill him, and then she forgave him for all his sins, because she loved him, and they lived happily ever after. Harrie closed the book with a loud snap, pissed off at that ending.

It wasn't right.

The Pure-blood should have ended up all alone, miserable, with only his right hand to entertain himself. He didn't deserve the heroine.

He really didn't.

Why was she thinking about Snape again?

She dropped her head into her hand, massaged her forehead, groaning. She had let Snape touch her. A Death Eater, loyal to Voldemort all this time, and he'd... he'd done such things to her. She had loved being in his bed, while he worked behind her back to destroy everything she held dear. Keeping so many secrets from her.

Had he poisoned Dumbledore under Voldemort's orders? Had he led the attack against the Ministry the night it had fallen? Was that why he'd left her tied to his bed? A prize to bring back to Voldemort when all was said and done...

"You couldn't have known," Remus said to her every time she ranted to him about Snape. "I was fooled as well. Everyone was."

And Harrie replied that she'd gotten closer to him than anyone else, and that she should have seen it. That she didn't even like him at the start, and then her feelings had started to pivot over the months, until... until she thought she knew him, at least as well as she knew Remus.

And it turned out she didn't know him at all.

"He won't ever touch you again," Remus had promised. "I'll kill himself myself rather than let him lay a single finger on you."

And then he had apologized for allowing it to happen in the first place, and Harrie had set him straight on that matter. That had been her decision, from the start. Remus couldn't blame himself for it. Remus had disagreed, and Harrie felt he was dedicating so much time to the Horcruxes hunt and spending so many hours away from her precisely because of that guilt.

A guilt that was eating him from the inside, in the same way Harrie's own anger was.

Evening came, the sun setting beyond the forest, turning the sky orange and pink. Harrie made dinner for herself and for Remus, set his plate at the table, waited for him.

An hour went by. Then another.

The constant worry that churned in her stomach any time Remus was away flared higher, until she was pacing back and forth in the tiny kitchen, glancing toward the door every few minutes, hoping to see the handle turn. It wasn't like him to be this late. And whenever he had to stay out for the night, and couldn't come home, he sent his Patronus to warn her.

She forced herself to sit, and to wait. She fiddled with Draco's wand, considered sending her Patronus to him. But what if he wasn't alone? What if he'd been captured? No, no. Maybe he was just shopping.

She tapped the wand against the table, deliberating. Could she take the risk to have her silver doe prancing around Remus?

One more hour, she told herself. Then she'd do it.

Twenty minutes had elapsed when the door handle turned. Harrie shot to her feet, rushing down the corridor. The door opened, and Remus dragged himself in, stumbling. He had blood on his face, and his hair was wet, stuck flat to his scalp, dripping water down his forehead and the sides of his neck. His clothes had great rips in them, like something had clawed at him viciously.

"I'm fine," he gasped at Harrie.

"You're not!"

"Nothing that can't be healed..." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "We did it," he said shakily, with a smile. "We got one."

"A Horcrux?"

He nodded, then winced, clearly in more pain than he wanted to admit it.

"What about Ron and Hermione?"

"They're okay. Fared much better than me."

She helped him into the living room, sat him down on the couch, went to get their first aid kit. The vial of dittany was almost empty. Harrie carefully doled out a few drops onto a piece of cloth, then dabbed it onto Remus' wounds. He had one long gash on his left forearm which seemed to have bled a lot, and another wound across his thigh, more superficial. Two more scars, joining countless others. Remus' body was a canvas of old wounds, his flesh crisscrossed with white, paler slivers, as well as small nicks here and there.

Harrie had once spent an entire evening kissing and licking every one of his scars. They hadn't even had sex that time. She has lavished affection onto every part of him, and then he had held her tightly, and she'd gone to sleep like that.

"What did that?" she asked, gently swiping the cloth against the long jagged red line on his thigh.

"Dragon's claw."

"A dragon? What were you doing with a dragon?"

She had first-hand experience of just how dangerous they were. She'd almost been burnt to a crisp during the First Task.

"The cup was at Gringotts, in Bellatrix's vault. The goblins had a dragon down there. We freed it when we escaped. In its panic, it swiped at me a few times before I was able to climb onto its back."

"You robbed Gringotts? Fuck, I wish I'd been there..."

Remus smiled rather indulgently, gave her an account of the events, a condensed one which he strove to make as unadventurous as possible. Harrie was still enthralled.

"...and when the dragon swooped low over the lake, we jumped."

"I'm very glad you came back to me in one piece. Well, mostly in one piece."

She was finished with the dittany, and put the tiny vial back in its case. Grabbing Draco's wand, she cleaned the blood off Remus' face, finished drying him, and cast a general cleaning spell over him, which she made all gentle. Then she sat on the couch next to him, leaning carefully into him. He took her hand, intertwined their fingers. A sight filtered out of his mouth, and he relaxed against her.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I made basil pasta," Harrie said. "And a steak. Cooked rare."

"Thank you."

They moved into the kitchen, and ate a late dinner. Remus ravenously tore into his steak, licking the juices from his lips. Worry gnawed at Harrie's insides. It should have been an evening of celebration. They'd gotten one Horcrux! That was a huge accomplishment.

Yet all she could think about was the looming future, and the noose slowly tightening itself around Remus' neck.

"The full moon is tomorrow," she said.

His gaze darkened.

"It is," he said levelly.

"How many doses do you have left?"

He'd taken a few vials of Wolfsbane before leaving Hogwarts, because Snape always made more than needed, and had found a way to store the potion with no loss on its efficiency.

"Two."

"Two," Harrie repeated, tapping her fork against her plate. "And then what?"

"We'll find something," Remus said, rubbing his face.

It was a lie. A lie meant to make her feel better, because he didn't have any answer for her.

"What, Remus? What solution will we find that you haven't thought of in all your years of living with your curse? I can't contain you. This house doesn't even have a basement. Will you run around in the woods? Is that your plan?"

"I won't put you in danger," he said, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I'll go back to the Shack—"

"And get captured? They'll notice a raving, screaming werewolf!"

"—the Forbidden Forest—"

"What if you run into a student there?"

He hung his head, squeezed his eyes shut. Didn't say anything. And Harrie preferred his silence to empty promises and false reassurances.

They went to bed. She snuggled close to him, laid her head on his chest. He braced an arm at her back, kissed her hair.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She couldn't find the words to tell him everything she wanted to say. That he didn't have to apologize for his curse. That it didn't disgust her, or repulse her. That she was so grateful he was here with her, so grateful he was keeping her safe.

"Don't be," she just said, and minutes later, she was asleep.

*

She was holding a bone-white wand in her long, spidery fingers. A man knelt before her, his head bent.

"Crucio."

The two syllables fell from her lips, carefully enunciated, relished for what they were.

The man screamed. He fell to the floor, writhing, limbs spasming, his pale face turned toward the light, his black greasy hair pooling like ink on the white marble floor.

It was Snape.

Snape, dressed in his black robes, thrashing in pain, screaming like an animal, raw sounds of pure agony wrenched from his throat. Harrie was watching it all with a calm sense of satisfaction.

The spell ended. Snape took a couple of strained, raspy breaths, and slowly heaved himself to his knees. He bowed his head once more, his entire body trembling.

"I find myself disappointed, Severus," Harrie said, in that cold voice that wasn't hers. "I have tasked you with finding Harrie Potter, and so far have seen no result."

"I apologize, my Lord," Snape said, tightly. "There is no excuse for my failure."

"No. There isn't."

The spell was non-verbal this time. It lasted longer, until Snape had no more breath to scream, and simply squirmed on the floor under the curse's influence, blood dripping from his mouth where he'd bitten his own tongue.

"I want her," Harrie said when she finally lifted the Cruciatus. "You will bring her to me, Severus."

"As you command, my Lord."

He slowly lifted his head, and Harrie was once more looking into his dark eyes. But they weren't right. They were blank. No emotions in them, nothing at all. A dead man's eyes.

Harrie felt a lazy smile stretch her lips.

"Crucio," she said again.

More screams followed.

She woke with a half-gasp, her body tensing as if she'd been hit by a spell. A spasm ran through her. She was covered in sweat, and her scar felt like it was on fire.

Remus shifted in the bed, set a hand on her arm.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I was—Voldemort, I was in his head."

She touched her scar gingerly, wincing. Her blood was pounding in her ears. Snape's screams were echoing there, too.

"Was he aware of it?" Remus said. "Did he feel you? Say anything to you?"

"No. No, I don't think so..." She sat up, shaking her head as if that could scatter the hazy remnants of the dream that clung to her mind. "He was torturing Snape."

His dark eyes. They haunted her. The look in them...

"You're safe," Remus said, rubbing her back in gentle motions. "It was only a vision, and if he didn't feel you... Can you Occlude? As a precaution."

"Yeah. I will."

She ran her tongue over her lips.

"He was torturing Snape," she said again.

"I imagine he's quite displeased with Severus," Remus replied. "For failing to find you, and losing you in the first place."

He offered her a glass of water. She curled her finger around it, took slow sips of the cool liquid. The pain in her scar was receding, and her heart was returning to a normal rhythm.

"I shouldn't care. He betrayed us. He deserves to suffer. I shouldn't care." She took a long gulp of water, and then added, "But I do," like it was the most damning thing. A wretched confession.

"I know," Remus said.

His eyes, his screams, that cold voice saying Crucio, sending his body into brutal spasms, his eyes, his eyes—

The glass shattered in her hand. She cursed, pivoted her palm up, grimacing at the blood running between her fingers. A small glass shard was jammed into her skin, near her thumb.

"Harrie, sweetheart..."

Remus Vanished the broken glass, took her hand in his, extracted the shard with a careful spell. He went to get the dittany, but Harrie refused to use it for such a small wound.

"It's fine. Let it heal on its own. It's my fault, anyway."

"It will scar," Remus said, like that mattered at all.

"We can't waste the last of our dittany on this."

He relented, and wrapped a simple band of cloth around her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it once he was done. She threw her arms around his neck, and together they fell back into the rumpled sheets. She lay half on him, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"Please," she said after a time.

He sighed.

"Somnus."

"Thank you," she murmured, as the spell descended over her and dragged her into unconsciousness.

*

"Remus," she said the next day during breakfast. "Do you love me?"

He looked up from his cup of coffee, an alarmed light in his gaze. It quickly shifted to something soft, a serene expression settling on his features.

"Yes," he said. "I do."

"I think I love you too."

He smiled, though it was a little sad.

"And I loved Snape," she added.

I think I still do.

"Those types of emotions are normal for you to feel, given the... events," Remus said, hesitating on the word. "You'll find that time might have an influence on them."

"I'm not going to stop loving you."

He gave her a slow nod, acknowledging her sentence, but not the deeper truth behind it. He didn't believe her. He thought, like Snape had, that there was no future for them.

Perhaps he was right.

Perhaps she'd die two months from now, perhaps he'd die, perhaps they'd both die.

But it wouldn't change anything to her feelings for him.

That evening, he drank one the two small vials of Wolfsbane remaining, and locked himself into the closet. She heard his screams of pain as he transformed, and then the rapid panting of the beast and his low, plaintive whines. The Wolfsbane allowed Remus to keep his mind while in his werewolf form, but it did nothing to diminish the agony of the change.

He sat there, in the dark, while Harrie sat on the other side of the door, and talked to him. She also read to him. Remus had said it helped a lot. Harrie wished she were an Animagus so she could cuddle up with him, two furry beasts seeking comfort in each other, but she hadn't had the foresight to try and become one, and she couldn't do it now.

So she read him Tales of Beedle the Bard, going through the Fountain of Fair Fortune, the Wizard and the Hopping Pot, Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump, and other magical tales. She particularly liked the Tale of the Three Brothers, and their attempt at cheating Death. She thought the last brother had it right, asking for something to hide himself from Death's gaze, and receiving a Cloak of Invisibility.

Harrie's own cloak had remained behind at Hogwarts. Snape probably had it by now.

She read to Remus until dawn broke, until he turned back to his human self and opened the closet's door, tumbling right into her arms. He was always so weak after the full moon. She helped him into bed, brought him a barely cooked steak, which he devoured with growls and snarls while she averted her gaze. He didn't like her seeing him like that, right on the edge of feral, settling back into his human form, leaving the wolf behind.

"I wish you didn't have to see me in this state," he told her, as he said each time.

"I don't mind," she replied, as she always did.

They cuddled in bed, and slept the entire morning, as well as a part of the afternoon.

Harrie woke because something hard was poking her backside. With a lazy smile, she wriggled her arse. That was part of their routine, too. She stayed with Remus all night, she read to him, she fed him, they snuggled, and when they woke, they had sex.

Wild, violent sex.

Remus growled when he ripped away her clothes, pinned her down face-first to the mattress, spread her legs, and entered her, in a single rough thrust. He forced her cunt to take his entire length, roaring in triumph as his balls pressed against her dripping slit. She moaned his name, clenching down around him, gripping the sheets tightly.

Moaned, squealed, panted out rapid breaths as Remus fucked her with frantic snaps of hips. He plowed her into the mattress, holding her head down, letting out gruff groans with every thrust, and she spread her legs further and let Remus have her, an onslaught of pleasure drowning her.

It didn't last long.

It never lasted long, not when Remus still had the wolf on his mind, not when all he wanted was to mount Harrie like a bitch, and breed her.

He slipped into a savage state of mind in these moments, and as he got closer to his orgasm, he murmured filthy things in Harrie's ear, things he never said otherwise, things he apologized for afterwards.

"You want my cum, don't you? You want my cum in this pretty cunt? Want me to—aaah, yes—fill you up?"

And Harrie just mewled and gasped, and tumbled into a spasming orgasm, one that triggered Remus' own. His hips slammed again and again into her arse, in quick, rabbit-like thrusts, until he gave one hard, grinding stroke that popped his knot inside her. The sudden increase in pressure made her see stars, and her cunt clamped harder around Remus' cock, seeking to milk it.

He snarled as he came, pumping a large amount of cum into her, spurt after spurt, more than she could handle. She felt it seep back out, wetting her inner thighs.

"Gonna breed you... breed you until you're bearing my pups—won't stop until your belly is all round and full..."

"Breed me," Harrie whined. "Breed me, breed me..."

She was well aware both she and Remus were under the influence of a contraception Charm, but the fantasy made her burn so hot she loved pretending it was possible, loved pretending Remus was actually knocking her up. His nails scraped at her hip, his husky growl rumbling in her ears, his knot pulsing into her channel as he filled her with more cum.

She came again, her body shaking under Remus, another shot of bliss scalding her entire nervous system. Writhing, wheezing, before she went lax, her oversensitive cunt still fluttering around the massive cock and the even larger knot stuck in her.

"Mine," Remus huffed, pulsing more jets of cum into her. "Mine, taking my seed, mine..."

He mouthed at her neck, nibbling the skin, dying to bite her but holding himself back. He apologized for that, too. For this need to leave marks on her, to brand her as his. Harrie really didn't mind.

Ten minutes later, he had completely emptied himself inside her, and gently slid out of her. She lay on the bed, dazed, half-dozing in the afterglow. He asked her if she was okay—she was—apologized for being so rough—perfectly fine—kissed her neck, her cheek—mmm, yes—gathered her into his arms and held her.

They'd get up in an another hour.

Freshly fucked, Harrie's mind was usually a blank state, blissfully empty of anything.

But today, one thought remained. A nagging worry that refused to face away.

They had only one vial of Wolfsbane left.

*

A month passed.

Harrie didn't see it whirl by. Time slipped away, every day the same, and suddenly they were in April. Spring had arrived, green and wet.

There had been no progress on the Horcruxes front. Remus still left the house pretty much every day, came back exhausted, with nothing to show for all his efforts. Harrie languished between the four walls of the cottage, growing more and more frustrated.

She'd had three more dreams about Snape, in which she was torturing him. Voldemort didn't seem to be aware of her presence, though her scar hurt when she woke up. She hated seeing Snape suffer under the Cruciatus. It twisted her heart, and made nausea burn in the pit of her stomach.

On the other hand, the dreams allowed her to see Snape, to know he was still alive. He didn't seem to have lost favor with Voldemort, because every time she saw him, he was dressed in his teaching robes, and he looked in relative good health. He was simply reaping the consequences of failing to find her.

In the third dream, Bellatrix was being tortured along with him, as well as Draco, while Voldemort went on about the lack of competence of his Death Eaters. Harrie almost laughed when she woke. He was using the Cruciatus on his followers, what was he expecting? Unwavering loyalty when the slightest misstep would get you tortured? Only the truly desperate or the truly insane could be faithful to such a master.

She wondered why Snape was. What did Voldemort offer him that he couldn't get on his own? Maybe if she found out, she could turn him. Make him follow her instead. Such a foolish thought, but that was what she'd been reduced to.

Imagining Snape could be hers.

The morning before the full moon, she had a fight with Remus.

"It's been three months!"

"I know. I know, Harrie. You have to be patient."

"Patient! How can you say that when the full moon is tonight? Time is running out, and I've been sitting here on my arse, doing nothing while outside the world burns!"

"You're too important to go out there," Remus said, which was what he always said.

"But I could help! Maybe I'd find a Horcrux! Do you even have a lead on one?"

He clenched his jaw, and that was answer enough.

"I need to speak to Ron and Hermione," she said.

"It's too dangerous. And they agree with me."

"I've only got your word for that," she pointed out, bitterly.

"Do you not trust me?"

She clicked her teeth together, huffing through her nose. What a stupid question.

"Of course I trust you. That's not the issue. I just—" She shook her head. "You're pretending everything is fine. Pretending you know what you're doing, but you don't!"

She slapped her hand down on the table, the sound loud in the tiny kitchen.

"I just wish you'd be honest with me. Entirely honest. I know you're hiding something from me. I can feel it. Sometimes I catch you looking at me, and... it's different from how you looked at me before."

She hadn't broached that subject so far. She'd been trying to avoid it, trying not to think about it. Trying not to wonder what that glimmer in his eyes meant.

"I'm not hiding anything from you," he said, but there it was again. That look in his eyes, at once afraid and infinitely sad. What was that?

"Liar," she said. "And a coward, as well."

Harrie could see his words hurt him, but he didn't retaliate. He left on that, cutting the conversation short. She watched the front door close behind him, cursed, stomped into the living room, slumped into the armchair. Toying with Draco's wand, digging a nail into the soft wood of the handle, she mulled the situation over.

An hour later, her anger toward Remus had receded, and she regretted calling him a liar and a coward. She'd apologize when he would come back in the evening. She'd make him a nice dinner, with a lot of meat.

She tried to read a chapter of the book she was currently going through, but the words couldn't hold her attention, nor could the story. She put it down, wandered around the living room. Remus had left an old book open on the small table near the window, a copy of Hogwarts: A History which had clearly seen better days.

She picked it up, sat with a sigh, and propped it in her lap. Hermione had always gone on and on about the brilliance of the book, and she'd encouraged Harrie to read it multiple times. Harrie usually answered that she would, but she'd never gotten around to doing it.

"I'm reading it, Hermione. Just for you."

The first chapter painted a broad picture of Hogwarts, its location, the date of its founding, giving general information about the school. Harrie yawned as she read, and didn't learn anything new.

The second chapter focused on the four Founders. It had a Gryffindor bias, painting Godric in a much more favorable light than Salazar, whose picture looked like someone had intentionally drawn him as a villain. He had dark, slicked back hair, a goatee, mean shifty eyes, and he was dressed in gaudy green and black robes that looked laughably extravagant. Harrie snorted when she first saw him.

Then her eyes stopped on the locket around his neck.

She leaned down, her heart beating faster.

It was a heavy golden locket with a snake carved on its face, the eyes of the beast holding two shining emeralds.

Slytherin's locket.

She had seen it before. She was sure of it. Where?

Tracing a finger against the illustration, she racked her brain, sifting through her memories. It couldn't have been at Hogwarts... no, no... maybe at Hogsmeade? In the window of one of the shops... or in Diagon Alley, perhaps? But she felt that wasn't right. She'd seen it from up close...

She'd seen it—

"Oh, fuck."

At Grimmauld.

It was at Grimmauld! She had even touched it. Two years ago now, back when Mrs Weasley had asked everyone to help clean the place, she'd found it lying in a drawer, and had given it to Ron for a moment while she emptied the rest of the rubbish at the bottom of that drawer. And then she had put it back there.

In a drawer, in the drawing room across from the Black family tapestry.

It had to still be there. No one used that room. It was too dark, the gas lamps failing to light it properly, and too cold, the remnants of an old spell cast by an ancestor of Sirius, ensuring the temperature was always a few degrees below comfortable.

She'd go in, grab the locket, get out quickly.

It'd be easy.

One Horcrux down, just like that.

She set the book back where it had been, quickly scribbled a note for Remus just in case, telling him she'd gone to get Slytherin's locket after finding a lead, and that she'd be back soon. Then, for the first time in three months, she set foot outside.

She breathed in a lungful of fresh air, focused. She hadn't passed her Apparition license, but she'd trained for it in Defense, and she'd done well. She was fairly confident she wouldn't splinch herself.

Gripping Draco's wand, which worked well enough for her, she pictured the three steps leading up to 12, Grimmauld Place, and reached out with her magic. The world popped away, her body suddenly compressed through a very tight space. It felt like it should hurt, but it didn't, and half a second later, she was standing on the marble steps of Grimmauld Place.

The door was closed, the chipped black paint wet from the rain that fell on London. Behind her, a handful of Muggles hurried down the street, oblivious to her sudden apparition.

Harrie gently touched the handle, and the door creaked open. She slipped inside, stopped to listen. A sepulchral silence met her ears. She sneaked down the corridor, avoided the umbrella stand which stood out and had tripped her up a couple of times, glanced at the covered portrait of Sirius' mother, reached the drawing room door.

It opened with barely a squeak. She closed the door behind her, hurried to the desk where the locket was. The drawer was stuck, and she had to jerk it several times before it jarred free.

It was empty.

In disbelief, she ran her wand all over the inside of it, searching for that locket. Where had it gone? Had someone taken it? Fuck, fuck, she'd been so sure!

Quickly, she opened all the other drawers, in case she'd been remembering it wrong. Those were filled with a lot of useless knick-knacks, as well as silver cutlery, and some really ugly napkins. But no locket.

"Accio Horcrux!" she said, brandishing Draco's wand.

Her scar flared in pain. She buried her groan into her bottom lip, her legs trembling, suddenly unsteady. She was breathing in stuttered inhales, one hand braced against the desk, when she heard noises.

Footsteps, down the corridor.

She whirled around, just in time to see the door burst open. A red jet of light missed her by an inch, crashing into the wall behind her as she ducked. She scrambled behind the couch, seeking cover from her attacker.

"Harrie, Harrie! Come out and play!" Bellatrix called out, followed by that familiar cackle.

Harrie glanced in her direction, immediately had to shield herself from a brutal Stun the witch aimed at her. Draco's wand buzzed in her palm the moment she cast a Sectumsempra. It didn't react when she defended herself, but it didn't like whenever she attacked.

Another Stun buzzed near her head, too close. Then the couch was yanked away, thrown into the right corner of the room by a powerful telekinetic spell, and Harrie found herself with no cover.

She jumped back, her Protego wobbling precariously under the twin assault from Bellatrix, two Stunners so close one after the other that they seemed like a continuous line of red in Harrie's vision. Her retaliation, a hastily cast Impedimenta, barely made the other witch blink.

"Where were you hiding, mmmh?" Bellatrix breathed, an eerie glimmer in her dark eyes. "The Dark Lord is so impatient to meet you again, Harrie. He's been waiting..."

"How pathetic is he, that he feels he needs to kill a teenage witch," Harrie said, while she was calculating the distance between her and the door.

"Oh no, not kill you. Not anymore."

So that was true. She hadn't been sure she could take whatever Draco had said at face value.

"Why not?" she asked, keeping her wand raised, waiting for Bellatrix to act.

"He'll tell you himself, my dear. All you have to do is come with me."

With a shark-like smile, the dark witch extended a hand out to her. Harrie scoffed.

"Do you even know who your precious Lord Voldemort is?" she said. "He's an half-blood! He grew up in a Muggle orphanage after his Muggle father abandoned his mother and she died from giving birth to him. And he's so afraid of death he split his soul into seven pieces to—"

"Silence, whelp!" Bellatrix roared.

Her wand flashed in the air.

Harrie dodged the Stun, jerked her body to the side, rushed for the door. She didn't have time to reach the corridor. The Crucio hit her from behind. She crumpled to the floor, screaming from the instant every nerve ignited with fire. It lasted two seconds, perhaps, but that was enough to leave her trembling weakly, drenched in sweat, her wand fallen from her fingers.

Bellatrix towered over her, teeth bared in a vicious smile.

Her wand came down, and the flash of red light was the last thing Harrie saw.

Chapter Text

She came awake at once, gasping a lungful of air, coughing it back out.

She was lying on the ground, on cold, damp grass, a gray sky above her. It was raining, a drizzle that whipped at her cheeks, flung into her face by gusts of wind. Her head hurt, as if she had banged it against a hard surface, and she could taste blood in her mouth.

"Get up, Harrie."

Bellatrix's voice sliced through her dazed state. Her right hand reflexively jerked into her pocket, found it empty of any wand. She sat up, groaning at the flash of pain that coursed up her back.

"Up!" Bellatrix snapped, her wand flicking toward Harrie, zapping her with a mean jolt of electricity.

Harrie scrambled to her feet, launched herself at Bellatrix. She was driven back by another zap, stronger, causing fiery cramps to burst into her limbs, nearly sending her to her knees.

"Don't be stupid," Bellatrix said. "I thought I would give you the opportunity to walk to the Dark Lord on your own two feet, but if you insist, I can immobilize you and carry you inside."

Harrie stepped back, holding a placating hand out.

"I'll walk."

"Good. After you."

She turned toward the elegant manor, whose shadow engulfed both her and Bellatrix. Its white façade seemed glamorous even in the rain, and lights glinted in the diamond-paned windows, hinting at what awaited inside.

Harrie steeled herself, walked in.

The door opened soundlessly at her approach, onto a dimly lit hallway. Portraits lined the walls, and if Harrie had had some inkling of where Bellatrix had taken her, the faces that followed her along from within those frames cemented her intuition, with their pale eyes and silver hair.

She was at Malfoy Manor.

Bellatrix directed her toward heavy wooden double doors with twin bronze handles. She came up behind Harrie, jamming her wand into the small of her back.

"Someone's been dying to see you..." the older witch whispered in her ear.

Harrie's heart lurched in her chest, her mind instantly going to Snape. Was he there? Would he stand besides Voldemort as her fate was decided? What did Voldemort want with her anyway?

They entered a large drawing room with dark purple walls, brightly lit by glittering crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. About a dozen people sat at a long and ornate table. They'd been talking, and a hush fell over them, voices trailing off, every head turning toward Harrie and Bellatrix.

Voldemort was at the head of the table, seated in a golden high-backed chair, presiding over the reunion. A roaring fire in the fireplace behind him cast his silhouette in a golden glow, accentuating his inhuman features, the too pale skin, the lack of nose, the crimson eyes.

Harrie should have been worried about him, should have kept her eyes on him, the most threatening presence in the room, but instead her gaze went to Snape. He was sitting to Voldemort's right, the closest to him. Their gazes connected, and some tension drained out of her, just from that, from seeing him again and looking into those dark, familiar eyes. The opposite seemed to happen for him. His gaze hardened, while a small muscle feathered in his jaw.

Voldemort said her name, pulling her focus to him. She tensed again upon beholding his snake-like face, flexed her right hand, void of any wand.

"So good of you to join us," Voldemort said, leaning back in his chair with a lazy tilt of his head. "Reckless to come back to the Black ancestral home when you're aware it's been compromised, but I suppose that's why you're a Gryffindor."

His comment caused a ripple of laughter among the Death Eaters. Snape didn't laugh. She could feel his gaze on her, the heat of it as steady and intense as the one from the burning fire behind Voldemort.

"Do you know what else you are?"

The Parseltongue sparked a shiver at her nape, which spread down her spine. Voldemort had a peculiar expression on his face, watching her closely, red eyes narrowed.

"Tell me," she said, because she was tired of men never telling her anything, and maybe Voldemort would give her the truth.

"You're a Horcrux. My Horcrux."

At last. At long fucking last.

"Your Horcrux," she hissed back. "Of course."

It explained everything. Her connection to him, one that had chafed her all her life, the dreams, why he'd been able to possess her, and—

"Who else knows?"

"Dumbledore found out first. I suspect he knew from the moment you faced me as a first-year. Last year, he told Severus, who immediately made me aware of it."

Harrie reeled from the words.

Snape knew. All this time, he'd known what she was, and he hadn't told her anything. He'd told Voldemort. They were supposed to fight him together, and he'd gone and done that.

Her eyes flicked to Snape.

Why? she wanted to scream at him. Why, why?

Then a thought struck her. If she was a Horcrux, then she had to die. She needed to be destroyed, like all the other pieces that housed a part of Voldemort's soul. It was the only way they could win.

And Snape didn't want her to die.

He was looking at her with no emotion right now, his face utterly guarded, but for the first time, she felt like she could read him like an open book. Like she knew every thought in his head.

I promise you, you'll be safe.

You are not going to die.

Dumbledore had revealed to him the truth that night, and right after fucking the living daylights out of her, he must have gone to Voldemort. He'd known since December.

Remus knew, too. That was why he looked at her with such anguish in his gaze sometimes.

A Horcrux.

She had to die.

Nothing could last.

There was a maelstrom in her head, a tempest of swirling thoughts and emotions, a roiling chaos that battered her from the inside. Turmoil in her mind, turmoil in her heart. She swayed on her feet, pressed a hand to her temple, as if that could soothe the insane whirlwind that had taken hold of her, as if anything could stop the acrid burn of the truth from searing away at her neurons, from sawing right through every hope she'd had, leaving nothing behind.

Snape and Remus and Voldemort, and she had to die.

She had to die.

Shaking her head, she dropped her hand. Her fingers were trembling.

Trembling, and bloody, and how could they have done that to her? Told her nothing? Kept her in the dark like she was—

A child.

"Bella," Voldemort said in a cold, dangerous tone. "Didn't I tell you she wasn't to be hurt?"

"My Lord, I—"

Her scream pierced right through Harrie. It jerked her cleanly from her hazy, distressed state. The tempest didn't stop, but suddenly she was standing in its eye, at the calmest point of it, and while it raged around her, it couldn't touch her.

It felt like ice. Like the touch of a grave upon her brow, like the kiss of a blade at her nape.

Maybe she was already dead.

She watched Bellatrix writhe on the floor, listened to her high-pitched screams, to the frantic agony the curse was inflicting upon her.

Voldemort made it last. He maintained the Cruciatus on Bellatrix for up to three minutes, possibly four, and the room resonated with the most terrible screams Harrie had ever heard. She would never have believed a human being could make those sort of sounds if she hadn't been standing right there. It had never lasted this long in her dreams. Snape had never screamed like that.

In the end, Bellatrix wasn't even screaming anymore. She was wheezing out strange little gasps that sounded like she was dying, like her lungs weren't working properly, like she was choking on her own spit, over and over.

No one said anything. The dozen or so Death Eaters at the table watched her thrash about, some with gleeful expressions on their faces—Rowle, Greyback, Pettigrew—other impassively—Snape, Lucius—while others still had a worried glint in their eyes—Draco, Narcissa, and they didn't utter a word.

Harrie felt like she should say something, but she wasn't sure what, hesitating between stop, and more, and give me your wand, I'll do it myself.

Finally, Voldemort ended his Crucio. Bellatrix lay limp on the floor, breathing raggedly, her whole body trembling.

"Thank you, my Lord," she whispered, a crooked smile slashing across her face, her maddest one yet. "Thank you."

"Take your seat," Voldemort said, dismissive, and she clambered to her feet and hurried to the seat left of him, the one facing Snape.

Red eyes fell on Harrie.

"Now, Harrie... what shall I do with you?"

Harrie met that noxious, crimson gaze, and stood tall. Perhaps she'd be tortured, too. Perhaps Voldemort would lock her somewhere, away from prying eyes, away from the world, to be kept like a precious flower that shouldn't be touched or even looked at.

"Any idea?" Voldemort prodded.

They were all looking at her. Vultures, she thought. She might have overestimated her own importance. She only needed to remain alive for the Horcrux to be safe. She could still be tortured by Voldemort, or given away to his Death Eaters for them to amuse themselves with. Going by the leers she was getting from a few of them, they were imagining that very scenario.

"My Lord..." Snape said, respectful but entreating.

Voldemort hummed, while behind him, something shifted in the shadows. Harrie startled when a large snake slithered forward, coiling around Voldemort's chair, then up onto the table. Nagini hissed, her tongue flicking out, lazily gliding down the table. Some Death Eaters leaned back, clearly nervous.

"Little hatchling... " the snake hissed, as she approached Harrie.

She coiled around her, not tightly, merely encircling her, while she stared into Harrie's eyes, tongue flicking out again.

"She smells of the wolf man... she has laid with him, many times."

"My Lord," Snape repeated, slightly more pressing.

"Yes, I did promise you the girl, Severus, didn't I? It appears she was slumming with the werewolf for the past months... How disappointing, Harrie. that you weren't taught to keep your legs closed and preserve yourself for better men."

Some Death Eaters cackled, while others jeered.

"Disgusting mutt," Rowle said, which earned him a glare from Greyback.

"She's yours if you still want her, Severus," Voldemort said, leaning back in his chair. "Keep her alive. That is my only requirement."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Nagini slithered away.

Snape got up, heading for her in languid strides. She braced herself, unsure of what to expect. Not from Snape, but from herself. A part of her wanted to reach out and clutch at Snape's robes, wanted to bring his face down to hers and kiss him until they both couldn't breathe. Another part wanted to bodily strike him, to make him bleed. A third part—and Harrie had never felt so fragmented, but it felt right that Snape should provoke this in her—wanted to demand answers, the truth, the whole truth, now, from his lips.

Snape leered at her, the same kind of lustful, predatory smile that could be found on half the Death Eaters present at the table. He gripped her shoulder, stepping so very close, then behind her, bringing the tip of his wand at her throat. She tensed further at this touch, didn't fight him.

"Hold on," Greyback said, "why is Snape getting the Potter brat? She'd make a nice, breedable bitch."

"I have prior claim," Snape said.

"What do you mean, prior claim?"

"I was fucking her long before you sniffed her, Greyback. Potter was an abysmal student, but a competent bed warmer."

Greyback's leer intensified, his gaze racking over Harrie's body.

"I bet," he said, licking his lips. "But are you planning to breed her? Think of the symbol, my Lord," he added, pivoting to Voldemort. "The Girl-Who-Lived, bearing the next generation of Death Eaters."

"I've no interest in breeding her," Snape said, so casually, like they weren't discussing forcibly impregnating her. "I need her cunt to be tight and always available."

"Seems like a waste of a good bitch..." Greyback said.

"There will be no pregnancy for Harrie," Voldemort said, his long, spidery fingers running over his white wand. "The symbol would indeed be a strong one, but I cannot trust that there would be no complications, possibly life-threatening ones. And Harrie must live. She must live, above all."

Harrie relaxed against Snape, who shifted his hand on her shoulder, sliding it closer to her throat.

"Will you share her, Snape?" Rowle asked, looking at Harrie like she was a piece of meat.

"No," Snape said, one single word that stood like a barrier between her and the rest of the Death Eaters.

"No," Voldemort echoed. "Severus and I are rather alike in that sense. We like to keep our possession to ourselves... Nevertheless, Severus, I would like a small demonstration. The girl is yours. She was yours when she attended Hogwarts... When did you say this started?"

"Last year, in November."

"And you've trained her?"

"As much as I could. This is Potter we're talking about. She takes to instructions like a Flobberworm to reading."

A wave of laughter rippled at the table. Harrie felt her cheeks grow hot. It was rage, not shame. She wouldn't be ashamed of her sexual experience, of her pretend inexperience. Not anymore.

"Was Severus a good teacher, Harrie?" Voldemort said, with a kind of malice that scraped at her, seeking to humiliate her. "Did you enjoy his lessons?"

"Remus fucked me better," she replied.

Snape grabbed a fistful of her hair, forced her head back.

"And yet you screamed so hard for me, Potter," he said in his quiet, silky tone. "You screamed and you came, so many times."

Voldemort clicked his tongue.

"A small demonstration," he said.

It was an order. Harrie contemplated what a demonstration meant. Would she have to suck Snape's cock? Would he fuck her right here, bent over the table, with everyone watching? Would she let him do it, or would she fight?

The hand in her hair tightened, not painfully, but in a firm, dominating manner. Then Snape was sweeping her into a brutal kiss. She whimpered against the sudden pressure of his mouth, whimpered again when he slid his tongue in, tasting her, taking her.

It wasn't like any of their previous kisses. It didn't have the bite and the anger of the November kisses, didn't have the desperate urgency of that one December kiss when he'd been so forceful, didn't feel like the January kisses either, those softer, mellower ones.

It was a claiming kiss, and she wasn't meant to be participating in it. She was meant to suffer it, like the war prize that she was, given to Voldemort's second-in-command as a reward for his loyalty.

Snape bent her back further, forcing his mouth more violently upon hers. She gripped his robes, swallowed by his billowing frame, encased by his warmth. He bit her lip, and she made a sound of pain, while between her thighs, deep muscles clenched.

When he lifted his mouth from hers, his eyes were glittering like black diamonds. He looked triumphant, a perverse smile on his lips, his harsh face lit up by the glow of cruel malice. She stood half-frozen, dazed from that barbaric display. Her ears were ringing, while her heart seemed to be trying to break out of her chest.

She distantly heard Snape say something about enjoying his reward. Voldemort must have given him his leave, because seconds later he was dragging her away. She stumbled along, kept on her feet by the hard grip he had on her forearm.

He led her out of the room and up the stairs, then down a carpeted hallway. He stopped in front of the third door, opened it, pushed her inside.

It was a bedroom, decorated in shades of black and green. Though it looked unused, it had a distinct Snape feel to it. The dark sheets of the bed looked exactly like the ones he had at Hogwarts, the desk in the corner was tidy, and the curtains were drawn, because Snape was a creature of the dungeons and hated light.

"Did you want to get caught, Potter?"

His voice hooked into her spine. The tempest in her mind froze over, while heat smoldered in her belly. An internal war raged, torn as she was by contradictory impulses.

Fists clenched, she turned to him.

He was looking down his nose at her, a familiar sneer on his face. Up close, and with time to see him, really see him, she couldn't miss the signs of fatigue on his features. The wrinkles around his eyes were more pronounced, the black bags darker, and he seemed about ten years older than she'd last seen him, burdened with a bone-deep weariness which his current grimace did little to disguise.

"Why else would you go poking around Grimmauld Place?" he said, a muscle spasming in his jaw. "Why would you leave whatever hovel the wolf had found for you, when it must have been under a Fidelius given that we couldn't find it? Or were you simply that stupid, to think Grimmauld wouldn't be under constant surveillance?"

She punched him. Right in the chest, a compact blow, hard enough to hurt. He didn't flinch. She shook her hand, formed it into a fist again, and delivered another strike. He let her have that one, too.

He could have stopped her anytime, only needed a flick of his wand to paralyze her, or just his strength, no magic necessary, but it was only when she tried to hit him a third time that he batted her arm away and gripped her wrist.

"Control your emotions," he said, the same way he had said it during their Occlumency lessons in her fifth year.

"Are you going to fuck me?"

His stare turned heavy-lidded, lust simmering in his pupils.

"Why? Have you not been well fucked while in hiding? Was Lupin unable to perform?"

"Oh no, he fucked me plenty. He fucked me, he came all over me, he even knotted me around the full moon."

"And you begged for more," Snape said, lowering his voice to a drawl.

His thumb swiped at her pulse, pressed slightly against it. Then he released her.

"You could have told me," she said.

The abrupt change of subject didn't faze him.

"I promised you you would live," he replied, stone-faced.

"So you told Voldemort instead? Planning to have me as your plaything when all was said and done? That's not a life. You know I'd rather be dead."

"I know."

Grimly, now.

It didn't make sense. He had always been so careful with her. Stopping at her 'no' before they had a safeword, introducing the very concept of one, and then showing her that she could use it, that he'd respect it.

And now this?

Either he had betrayed her, would keep betraying her in the most heartrending, cruel way, no longer caring about her consent, or...

"I'm changing my earlier question. Are you going to rape me?"

She was looking directly into his eyes. Something shifted in those dark depths, a flicker of emotion, so fleetingly, there and gone.

"You've been given to me for the sexual enjoyment of your body. You have little use otherwise. You won't—"

"You're a triple agent."

She threw the words in his face, another blow, verbal now. She wanted it to be true. She needed it to be true, had never needed anything more in her life.

He scoffed.

"Honestly, Potter. Do I have you fooled that much? Or was it the sex? Did you mistake our sexual intimacy for something else?"

She said nothing. Standing by her statement.

"Get those ideas out of your head. I am loyal to the Dark Lord, as I have always been. Why would I betray him?"

"Because you love me."

He smiled, nastily, his crooked teeth digging into his lower lip.

"Is that what you need to hear so you'll spread your legs? What a romantic slut you make. Very well."

He paused.

"Yes, I love you."

Said honestly, from his heart. The truth disguised as a lie.

Devastating.

"I love you, and I missed you. I thought about you every day, every hour, every minute. I kept dreaming of you, comforting, happy dreams where you were in my bed, and then I woke up in cold sheets, achingly hard and achingly alone."

He tilted his head.

"Is that too much, Potter? Or is that exactly what you needed to hear? How convincing am I, tell me?"

She grabbed him by the front of his robes, jerked him toward her, kissed him. Avidly, and, like he'd said, achingly.

It was her kiss, this one. Their kiss, not a fake smashing of mouths, not a display meant for an audience. Theirs alone, and it felt so good to be kissing Snape again, after months of missing him. He let her set the pace, placed his hands gently at her waist, didn't grab or force anything. She gave him her tongue, and he sucked on it, groaning lowly. His hands flexed at her waist, settled again.

For someone who claimed her only use was to be found in the sexual enjoyment of her body, he was surprisingly restrained.

She nibbled at his lips, then slid her mouth along his jawline, licking him there. Her tongue traced a path down to his Adam's apple, and lower, at his pulse. She sucked on it, while he didn't seem worried to have her teeth there at his throat. She caught the skin between her teeth just to gauge his reaction, and he only growled, the sound so sexually charged it caused a flood of heat between her legs.

She stepped back, tugging him along, toward the bed. He allowed it, and when she pushed him down, he fell willingly, landed on the mattress, looking up at her.

"Did you miss me that much?" he said with a smirk.

She climbed on top of him, started undoing the main row of buttons of his frock coat. Her fingers worked quickly. She undressed him, revealing the white shirt he wore underneath, removed that too, with his help, until she had a bare-chested Snape under her.

He'd been naked with her before, but only because he had removed his clothing by himself. She never had had time to look at his naked body, to touch it fully, to appreciate the sinewy spread of his shoulders, the sparse dusting of dark hair on his chest, the lean look of him. He had scars, too, almost as many as Remus, though they were different—not made by claws, but by dark magic, pink instead of white, with clean edges.

She bent down, tongued at a large one that ran under his left nipple. He shuddered under her, and clenched his hands into the sheets, swallowing audibly. She ground against his groin while she followed the line of his scar with the tip of her tongue, occasionally letting her teeth skim his skin. When she felt him tense again, something rumbling in his chest without reaching his lips—what could it be? A plea? Her name?—she shifted, undid his belt, plunged her hand in his trousers, and pulled out his cock.

Wasting no time, she tugged her trousers off, wrapped her fingers around the thick, engorged shaft, pushed her knickers to the side, notched his cockhead at her entrance, and sank down on him. She took him all in one slide, groaning as he stretched her walls. He huffed an undetermined noise, maybe just a rough sound of pleasure.

He was throbbing inside her, the plush cockhead nestled snugly at the end of her channel. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the bed on either side of him.

"You're not his. You're mine."

She moved her hips, a quick pump of them, hard, fast.

"Mine, and I'll mark you to prove it."

Her mouth was back on his chest. She bit his nipple, bit until she tasted blood, aiming to leave a scar.

"I'm yours," he said.

She licked his blood from her lips, clenched around him, lifting up, slamming back down. He inhaled noisily. His mouth was half-open, his eyes wide and so, so dark.

"You left me cuffed to your bed," she growled.

She scratched at his chest, raking her nails down, marking him with white, temporary trails.

"Mmm, and how beautiful you looked there," he said, in a voice like black velvet, a decadently rich sinful purr.

She slapped him. The sound of her palm striking his cheek rang loudly in the room. He growled, snatched her wrist, brought it to his mouth and licked a hot stripe up the side of it. A shiver of desire coursed through her. He released her wrist as quickly as he had captured it, as if to show her his intent wasn't to keep her captive.

She rode him with a steady, demanding rhythm, impaling herself on his greedy cock. He was breathing heavily, but remained still under her. His hands were once more clenched into the sheets.

"Where were you?" she asked, scratching him again, harder, until the marks she left were not white, but red.

"I led the assault on the Ministry. I took it for the Dark Lord."

"No."

She grabbed his throat, her hand encircling it.

"You did it for me."

His eyelids fluttered. His hips jerked, thrusting up. She pushed him back down, kept grinding down, rotating her hips slightly.

"I did it for you," he said, in a rough groan.

She squeezed his throat, slammed herself down on his cock, faster and faster, taking her pleasure. Her orgasm was building in the pit of her belly, all radiant heat, fed by the glide of Snape's cock inside her, by the way he was staring at her, with such intense hunger it sizzled on her skin.

"Say it again," she ordered, half her mind gone already, consumed by the thickness of Snape's prick in her cunt, by his heat, by his eyes, by Snape Snape Snape.

"For you."

She moaned, a long, drawn-out sound. The coil of pressure snapped free, and bliss whip-lashed through her body, ricocheting in every cell. She convulsed on top of Snape, muscles trembling, fluid gushing from her cunt as she kept riding his cock, rocking onto it while she released slick liquid all over it.

His cock twitched as the contractions of her channel massaged it, but he didn't come. He watched her, and he held still, his hands fisted at his sides, looking utterly enraptured by what he was witnessing, as if it was the first time he was seeing her come.

She slumped forward, breathless, dizzy from the strength of that orgasm.

"Do you want to know what else I did?" Snape murmured.

He set a hand at her back, bracing her against him, pushing her flush against his naked chest.

"I poisoned Dumbledore."

His voice had left the range of his normal baritone, had reached abysmal depths, volcanic rocks grinding against one another.

"He wanted you dead. He planned to sacrifice your life because you're a Horcrux. So I gave Draco the idea and the means, and I sent him on his way. I knew you hate lemon drops, that you'd never touch them."

He shifted under her, snapped his hips in a fierce thrust, punching a mewl from her lips.

"And I wanted you to see. To see him choke on his lie. To see him falter and fall. I wanted you to see him, Potter, because this is what I will do to everyone who tries to hurt you."

He powered hard into her, driving his stiff cock into her soaked cunt, groaning as his balls slapped the outside of her sex. His hand tangled in her hair, wound tight in her curls, pulled. His mouth found hers, and that kiss was for him.

A kiss that said mine, a kiss of ravenous want and dark greed, a kiss that seared incredible heat along her nerves, as her body responded to him, ready for more, ready for anything.

"I'll kill them all," he said on her lips.

She emitted a small keen in answer, moved against him, with him, rolling her hips into his long, powerful thrusts. They clung to each other, kissed again, without rhyme or reason, a mess of tongues and shared breaths. His cock plunged wetly into her, his pace gradually increasing, and she followed his motions, gasping his name into his mouth.

"Snape, Snape, oh!"

"Are you going to come again? Squirt on my cock like a good slut? I missed this..."

"Missed you," she gasped.

Her abdominal muscles were burning, contracting in a flutter of sensations, while her cunt grew tighter. Snape had to work harder to penetrate her fully, and he grunted with every flex of his hips, the friction of his cock against her walls reaching such acute intensity she was nearly sobbing from it.

"Yes, yes, yes—"

His hands dipped between them, ripped her shirt open, grabbed her breasts. He rubbed her nipples, the rough calluses of his fingers bringing additional stimulation. She arched into the contact, and he cupped her breasts fully, squeezing them, stroking them. More needy little sounds spilled from her tongue as his hands roamed on her sweat-dampened skin. He knew her body, knew where to touch her to make her melt, to make her scream, to make her his.

He plucked at one nipple while his fingers barely brushed her clit, and she came with a broken cry. The burst of sensations made her tremble all over. She squirmed on top of Snape, straining again and again with every consecutive wave of pleasure while he held her.

"Mmmm, uh, uh..."

"Good girl. Fuck, your slutty little cunt is milking my cock so hard..."

"Want—you—"

He let out a growl, and suddenly he flipped their position. She landed under him, belly down in the sheets. He grabbed her hips, pushed back inside her, bottoming out with a thorough thrust, his cockhead bumping against her cervix.

"Have me," he snarled, immediately setting a fast pace. "Have me, I'm yours."

He pumped into her with a wildness that matched Remus under the influence of the full moon, groaning like a beast as well. She shut her eyes, lying still, her breaths coming out in weak moans and stilted gasps.

"Say it—again—" she demanded, clenching around his cock with every word.

He leaned over her, resting his full weight on top of her, pinning her down. His lips touched her ear.

"I'm yours."

Yes, yes, exactly what she yearned to hear, and in return, she said—

"You love me."

He made a harsh male sound right into the shell of her ear, rammed forward, his hips hitting her buttocks violently, in repeated impacts that she felt throughout her body.

"And I love you," she said, her voice a thin, reedy whisper. "I love you, I love you."

A series of raspy moans erupted between them, and she wasn't sure if they came from her or him. Perhaps from both of them. He shook over her, his thrusts getting more frantic, erratic, losing any and all rhythm, and finally he sheathed himself hilt deep and spilled inside her. An electric shiver of pleasure rolled through her limbs, her cunt throbbing in a faint echo of an orgasm. She mewled happily, felt tears rolling down her cheeks.

This.

This was right, and she knew it was the truth.

He sagged onto her, his hot breath wafting over her throat as he exhaled a sigh. For a moment—a precious, perfect moment—he didn't move, lying so heavy on top of her. Then he withdrew from her, leaning back. She missed him immediately, groaned in protest, was too exhausted to reach for him.

"When was the last time you cast the spell?" he said.

"Spell?"

"The contraception one. I'm assuming you were using it, instead of potions. When was the last time you cast it?"

He sounded so detached, completely different from the man who had just proclaimed he was hers. She marshaled her brain cells into some coherency.

"Uh... two days ago."

"With Draco's wand?"

"No. Remus lent me his. I'm not stupid."

She would never have cast a spell of such importance with a wand that occasionally fought her. Remus' wand worked perfectly well for her.

A cold tingle spread over her, centered on her abdomen. She frowned.

"I just told you I cast it recently!"

"Consider it an extra precaution. You heard the Dark Lord. I will be very thorough in following his orders."

She snorted into the pillow. He hit her with a cleaning spell next, Vanishing his cum off her, as well as the grime and the sweat. She found the strength to roll over, watched him put his clothes back on. He methodically buttoned himself up, his dexterous fingers flying over the buttons.

When he was done, he sat next to her, and cradled her head in one hand while he palmed her skull with the other. She flinched as he brushed over a tender spot. He muttered something, Accio'd a small pot from one of the desk's drawer, opened it, and coated his fingers in a nice-smelling ointment.

"How did you hit your head, exactly?" he asked while smearing the stuff over the painful bump on the left side of her skull.

"Not sure. I think it happened during the Crucio."

His fingers stilled.

"She used the Cruciatus on you?" he said, every word like the edge of a knife.

"Mmm. I insulted Voldemort. She really didn't like it."

His gaze was burning dark, an obsidian nightmare.

I'll kill them all, he had said. Anyone who hurt her. And she believed him. Worse, perhaps, she wasn't repulsed by such a violent vow. She wanted him to do it. To be this brutal, for her.

He spread more healing ointment on the bump, then trailed his fingers down to her jaw. She had the urge to suck on them, which was ridiculous. She'd get oily ointment on her tongue, and it probably tasted awful.

"Anything else hurting?"

"My arse, a bit."

"That'll heal on its own," he said, his lips curling briefly.

He got up, returned the pot to the desk drawer. Stepping toward the door, he put on his heavy cloak, fastening it at the front with a wordless spell.

"You're leaving?"

"There was an incident just before I came to the meeting. Longbottom and the Weasley girl had the brilliant idea to try and steal the Sword of Gryffindor. I have to make sure the Carrows have followed my instructions."

"Are they alright?" she asked, a vice briefly squeezing her heart.

"They'll be punished according to their transgression."

"Snape," she said, pleadingly.

His gaze had hardened. He was looking at her from behind his mask.

"Stay here. I can't protect you outside of this room."

"Wait," she said as he was opening the door.

He turned to her, arched an eyebrow.

"Remus will be out of Wolfsbane after tonight," she said.

"You don't have to worry about that. You're my property now. The only thing you should care about is pleasing me."

"Snape..."

"That is the truth, Potter. Tell me you understand."

She clenched her fists, glaring at him.

"I understand."

She hated this Slytherin cloak and dagger stuff, but she had to admit he was so impeccably skilled at it.

"I'll be back soon," he said, and he left her there, in a bedroom of Malfoy Manor, freshly fucked and a prisoner of the Dark Lord.

*

She was bored.

It had been an hour since Snape had left. She'd gotten dressed again, had checked the door (locked), the window (warded), the second door (which led into a bathroom), and now she was pacing around the room like a caged animal.

Alone with her thoughts.

They ran dark. Couldn't be helped, really. Yes, she was with Snape again, great. Yes, he was on their side after all, even better.

But she was a Horcrux.

What was she supposed to do? She was tethering Voldemort to life. As long as she lived, he couldn't be killed—and the prophecy had said so, exactly. Why had she never considered the possibility that he had made an involuntary Horcrux that Halloween night? Why hadn't she pushed Remus more, forcing the truth from him?

And if Remus knew, did that mean Ron and Hermione knew as well? No. She couldn't imagine her friends keeping such a monumental secret. They would have told her. The second they knew, they would have rushed to her, and Hermione would have promised she'd find something, somewhere in a book, and Ron would have hugged her and told her there was no way he would let her sacrifice herself.

Remus' plan, apparently, was simply to keep her in the dark. And what was Snape's plan? Something more complicated. More dangerous, with layers that she'd have to accept. In everyone's eyes here, she was his pet. Her stay at Malfoy Manor, however long it would be, was not going to be pleasant.

A house elf brought her lunch, providing a welcome break into her grim thoughts. He didn't stay, and he refused to speak to her, but at least the food was good. There was a salad made with small dices of cucumber, tomato, and green onion, a meat pie topped by a honey-glazed crust, and for dessert, a thin crepe filled with apricot jam. She ate everything, relieved that she wouldn't be fed tasteless slop.

Her stomach full, she soon found herself pacing again.

She was completing yet another circle on the lush carpet when a movement at the window jolted adrenaline in her veins. Feathered wings flapped against the glass pane, a beak tapping it urgently.

"Hedwig!"

Harrie rushed to the window, opened it, and her owl flew in. She bumped into Harrie's chest, ended up cradled in her arms, her fluffy head tucked into the crook of Harrie's elbow.

"You shouldn't be here!"

Hedwig hooted, fluttered her wings, and moved to Harrie's shoulder, where she pecked at her hair while cooing soft noises.

"Yes, I'm very happy to see you too."

She petted the owl, cooing back, telling her how beautiful she was, and so smart, smart enough to find her here.

Hedwig wasn't carrying any message, the little satchel at her side completely empty. That gave Harrie an idea, and she began to search the desk for a sheet of paper. She didn't find any in the two top drawers, so she opened them all, one by one. The second to last held some parchment. And the last one...

Harrie squinted at the vials tucked away into the drawer. Half a dozen, all identical, set on a small rack. Those were—could they be? The vials weren't labeled, but the color was right, a blueish-white, and when she picked one up and shook it, the consistency matched, too.

Wolfsbane.

You don't have to worry about that.

What a clever, clever man. God, she loved him.

Borrowing his ink and quill, she wrote a quick message to Hermione.

Got captured. Am at Malfoy Manor. Safe with Snape (I mean it). Don't come for me. Ask Remus what he knows. The vials are for him. Love you, Harrie.

She slipped the message and the vials into Hedwig's satchel, kissed her on the head.

"Find Hermione. And don't come back. You can't stay with me, it's not safe here."

Hedwig hooted, blinking her large amber eyes at Harrie. She seemed reluctant to leave, pecking at Harrie's clothes, settling on her shoulder again.

"I know," Harrie said, brushing her white plumage with the back of her hand. "You've only just found me, and you missed me. I missed you too! But you really can't stay. This is an evil place."

Hedwig flew down, landed on the window sill. She smoothed her beak through her feathers, looked at Harrie again, hesitating.

"Go!"

She took off with a mournful hoot. Harrie watched her fly away, until she was little more than a mere dot on the horizon, and then slipped entirely out of view.

"Be safe," Harrie said, with a sad, resolute smile.

Hermione would take good care of her owl.

Snape came back later in the afternoon. He ignored her questions about Neville and Ginny, only deigning to tell her that everything was going as planned when she pressed him for the fourth time.

"I am not going to report to you, Potter," he said, rounding on her with a flare of his robes. "You're here to warm my cock, nothing more. You will keep your questions and your incessant babbling to yourself."

She huffed, went to stare out of the window, and ignored him in turn. It was childish of her, she knew. He was simply playing his role, and playing it well. He was either convincing or dead, there was no in-between.

He sat at the desk, handling papers and parchments, signing some of them, carefully reading others, and even sending a few into the bin.

"Paperwork," he said, in response to her stare. "Mountains and mountains of paperwork. I never imagined Dumbledore dealt with this much."

"You poisoned him," she said, bringing that subject back on the table.

It was a safe one. He wouldn't lie about it, and it didn't make her angry.

"As I told you," he replied, his quill scratching the parchment.

"Are you planning to kill him?"

"The Dark Lord hasn't ordered it. He is satisfied with the current state of affairs."

"But are you planning to kill him?"

He lifted his eyes from the parchment, affording her an intent gaze, while he kept his face blank.

"What do you think?"

She chewed on her bottom lip. Was he really asking what she thought he was asking?

"I don't want him dead," she said, keeping her tone neutral.

Snape set the quill back in the ink pot, leaned forward.

"He's known you were a Horcrux since that confrontation with Quirrell in your first year. He planned to tell you at the last minute, and have you walk to your death."

"I know."

"He left you to the Dursleys, while being fully aware they were abusing you."

"I know! He's not the kind old man I thought he was for so long. He did terrible things, and while he probably regrets them, that's no excuse. I understand that. I—"

She swallowed, nervously shifted her feet. She had told him she loved him already. She could tell him the rest as well.

"I used to look back at the memory of him falling from his chair and choking in pain as something terrifying. The symbol of the end of an age. My strongest protector, being struck down. But I was wrong all along, wasn't I? Dumbledore was never my strongest protector. It was always you."

He stayed silent, his gaze heavy on her.

"And now, when I think back on this moment, I... I feel joyful. Vengeful. Vindicated."

She smiled, pondering what she looked like right now, pouring her darkest thoughts out, all for Snape to hear.

"I wish I'd known, then, what it meant. I would have sucked you off so good you would have seen stars."

"You came into my bed that night," he said, low, almost a growl. "I fucked you three times, if you recall."

"But I didn't know. I thought I was trading sex for a cuddle. I had no idea what you were willing to do for me."

"And now?"

It was an obvious bait. She took it. Jumped on it, really, and advanced on Snape.

"Now..."

She went down on her knees, crawled under the desk, set her hands on his thighs, shuffling closer.

"...I'll show you my gratitude, Professor."

She licked her lips very slowly, making a show of it. Her hands crawled up his thighs, converging at his belt. He hummed, cupped her chin, slid his thumb between her lips and onto her tongue.

"Gratitude, Miss Potter? Do you think I did it so you would thank me?"

His thumb pushed deeper into her mouth, pressing harder on her tongue.

"I did it, my perfect little slut, because you're mine. Every inch of you, mine."

She moaned around his thumb, and heat pooled low in her belly. Her right hand groped him through his trousers, while the left worked to open his belt. She was sliding the leather out of the loop when the sudden pop! of a house elf appearing in the bedroom made her look up.

"Nary brings dinner, Master Severus," the elf said, showing no surprise at the scene he had interrupted. "For two, as requested."

"Put everything on the table."

The large tray clanked against the wood. The elf bowed, disappeared with another pop!

"Hungry?" Snape asked her, withdrawing his thumb from her mouth to paint a trail of her own saliva across her cheek.

She smiled.

"Yes. Let's eat, then I'll have you for dessert."

Dinner was just as delicious as lunch. Harrie feasted on smoked salmon carpaccio topped with aromatic herbs, on roasted potatoes, and on treacle tart. She hadn't had treacle tart in ages. It was her favorite dessert, and she hadn't been aware Snape knew that.

"Was Lupin such a bad cook?" he said, watching her lick the sugar off her fingers.

"He didn't have time to cook. He was always out of the house, doing... things."

"Things?" Snape repeated in an inquiring tone.

"You know. Order stuff, I guess. He didn't tell me much."

She couldn't tell Snape Remus knew about the Horcruxes. Couldn't tell him they had already destroyed one. Had Voldemort felt it? Did Snape knew the cup Horcrux was no more?

"So you were left to do the cooking. A sad state of affair."

"I can cook!" she immediately protested. "Some things."

Snape raised an eyebrow, smugly.

"...okay, not many things," she admitted. "And I had a miserable time, cooped up for months in that cottage."

"Is it under a Fidelius?"

She eyed him speculatively. It didn't feel like an interrogation. It felt like talking with Snape, which she enjoyed, which she had missed.

"Yes," she said.

"Who is the Secret Keeper?"

"Not me."

He seemed satisfied by that answer. It was the truth, anyway. They'd chosen Ron, because out of the four of them, Harrie Potter, a werewolf, a Muggleborn, and a Pureblood traitor, he was the one who ranked the highest on the sliding scale of respect in the eyes of the Death Eaters. They had hoped he would be treated less harshly if he came to be captured.

"Did you search for me a lot?" she asked, licking the last bit of sugar off her thumb.

"Constantly. You were the Dark Lord's top priority."

"And now that he's found me, he just gave me to you. As a toy."

Snape tilted his head. His hand twitched on his thigh, as if he wanted to reach for her, but stopped himself.

"Were you expecting something else?" he said.

"Yes. Much worse. I thought he'd keep me in a dungeon all to himself, or that he would hit me with a sleeping curse and put me on display somewhere along with his other trophies. I'm his Horcrux. Seems weird that he would just hand me over to another man."

Snape's lips stretched in a tranquil smile.

"The Dark Lord trusts me," he said.

It was that simple. Severus Snape, loyal Death Eater, got Harrie Potter the living Horcrux as a reward, and could do whatever he wanted to her as long as he kept her alive.

She smiled back, dropped to her knees, found her place between his legs. He was already hard. She stroked his cock through his trousers for a moment, holding his gaze. Black to green, and she found nothing unfamiliar in those dark pupils.

It was all her Snape.

She freed his cock from the confines of his clothes, pumped him the way he liked, slow, with an extra squeeze at the end. He spread his legs and watched her work, his black pupils widening, eating away at the white of his eyes. She slipped her lips over his cockhead, flicked her tongue on his hot flesh, moving it around while keeping the tip of him snug in her mouth. He groaned softly, both hands twitching.

"You can touch," she said, and dragged her tongue down his length, licking him leisurely.

She pushed down his underwear to free his balls as well, gently massaged them with one hand.

"You can be rough. I'm your slut, after all. You should be rough."

He grunted, grabbed a handful of her hair, twisting it harshly. She moaned against his cock, thrilled by the brutal handling. With Remus, she enjoyed soft, loving sex, but with Snape, her preferences ran darker. Far darker.

"Good slut," he said in a low growl. "Suck your master's cock."

She guided him in and out of her mouth, sliding his thick cock on her tongue while his hand alternated between caresses and a harder, more domineering touch. She made use of her hands too, her fingers wrapped closely around his erection, stroking the inches that weren't in her mouth. Since she was dribbling a lot of saliva onto his shaft, the blowjob was a very noisy one, all wet and sloppy.

Snape didn't complain, on the contrary.

"Potter..."

His hand spasmed in her hair, and his abdominal muscles clenched as he thrust up. She squeezed her fingers harder, lapping at his cockhead again and again. With a groan, he tipped his head back, ecstasy rippling on his features. She admired the long line of his throat and the bob of his Adam's apple, fisted his cock faster as she sucked on the tip.

"I'm—ah, fu-uck—"

The word devolved in a formless noise, a violent shudder wracked his body, and he spurted into her mouth, his cock pulsing hard. Thick, hot jets of cum coated her tongue. She swallowed his entire load, pumping him until she'd gotten every last drop. Then she licked him clean, very methodically, while he panted and petted her hair.

"Such a good girl... swallowing everything I gave you..."

She smiled at him, licking his softened cock. Once he was clean, she climbed in his lap, and kissed him. He kissed back, tasting his own cum on her lips.

"Did that get you wet, slut?" he said. "Am I going to find your little cunt absolutely soaked?"

He pushed down her trousers just enough to get one hand into her knickers. 'Absolutely soaked' was the correct term for them—and for her cunt. Eyes gleaming with desire, he plunged two fingers into her, set his thumb at her clit. Every cell in her body screamed in anticipation, a ball of glowing heat throbbing in her cunt.

But he stayed motionless, watching her.

"Snape..."

"Ride them."

"Mmmm..." she said, even as she clenched down on his fingers.

"Ride my fingers, Potter. Make yourself come all over them. I want you to squirt on my hand until the smell of your arousal is permanently imprinted on my skin."

"Fuck. Not gonna—last long."

"I know," he said, all smug.

She braced her hands on his shoulders, and rocked her hips, fucking herself on his fingers. The angle was just right, delivering a perfect burst of friction to her g-spot every time she thrust down, and his fingers filled her nicely, and she loved them, all slender and long and in her cunt.

She rode them hard, bouncing in his lap, her mouth open, her breath leaving her in short, delighted gasps. Yes, yes, oh, right there, and the jolts of pleasure were building to a crescendo which promised to leave her wrecked, and there. It. Was.

She crested the peak, mind going blank. Snape emitted a rough sound of satisfaction at the back of his throat, and accompanied every shudder of her climax, fingers thrusting into her clenching cunt, thumb stroking her pulsing clit. She gushed a cascade of fluid over his hand, crying out, completely overtaken by searing bliss.

Sagging onto him, she shuddered, her eyes closing on their own.

"Gnnn-aah," she groaned, trying to say Snape and encountering utter failure.

He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Look at you, so perfect."

He lifted her into his arms, headed for the bed. She sprawled onto the silk sheets, smiling at the familiar feel of it against her skin. He joined her, and they cuddled face to face, Harrie tucked closely into Snape's larger frame.

She studied his face, came to the same conclusion as earlier.

"You look tired."

"I am," he said, without offering any explanation.

She traced a finger along his jaw, then down his throat and lower, reaching the collar of his frock coat. She thought of the scars hidden under his clothes.

"I saw you getting tortured."

"In your mind?" he said sharply.

"Yes. But he wasn't aware I was there."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. He would have taunted me otherwise. Or would have tried to use the connection to see through my mind. He never did."

He set his hand over hers, his thumb stroking her skin.

"How many times did that happen?"

"Four."

She shifted closer, until her mouth was near his throat.

"How many times were you tortured?" she asked in a whisper.

"More than four."

She huffed. Such a typical Snape answer. It was the truth, while not telling her anything.

"What does that mean?" she said. "That I could be in his head while he didn't know?"

"I'm not sure. Horcruxes are complicated by their very nature. Human Horcruxes even more so. There is no literature on the subject. It's a completely unknown field of magic."

"Mmmm. I'm an unknown field of magic," she said, mouthing at his throat.

"You're a terrible headache."

He said it so fondly she couldn't help her giggles. He rubbed her back, soothingly, then kissed her at length, until her lips were sore and her head was spinning.

Eventually, she fell asleep, there in the cage of his arms, perfectly warm.

Perfectly safe.

Chapter Text

Remus smiled at her, the motion tugging at the scars on his face. His hand slid down her body, skimmed by her breasts, trailed down to her navel and slipped into her knickers.

"Something you need, Harrie?" he said, leaning forward to kiss her.

No, that wasn't right, no, no...

She sat in the armchair near the window, an open book in her lap. Bored, so bored. Remus was gone for the day, and she had nothing to do but wait...

No, no...

Remus' bloody face, his shaky smile.

"We did it. We got one."

Stop, stop—

"I'm yours," Snape said, in a growl.

His blood was on her lips, his cock in her cunt.

Get out of my head!

"Slut," Snape was saying in her ear, while he was pounding into her from behind. "That's your only use. A wet hole that takes my cum."

His hand at her throat, squeezing.

"Say it, whore."

"I'm your slut—I'm... I'm a wet hole that takes your cum—"

"That's right. A little cocksleeve to keep my prick warm."

He grunted, and came inside her, the warmth of his release triggering her own orgasm.

Get out, get out!

More images, flashing by quickly, more words, her name, Harrie, Harrie, and Snape's tongue in her mouth, and Bellatrix's loud cackle, and the pain of a Cruciatus exploding all along her nerves, you're a Horcrux, Harrie, Harrie, you're not going to die, I love you, I love you—

Everything blurred, colors and sounds swirling together in an impossible, alien mix, and then something cold and piercing jerked in Harrie's head, right at the base of her brain stem, and she was staring into Voldemort's face, into the red, red eyes, the chalk-pale face, the bloodless lips.

She blinked, tears escaping her eyes, rolling down her cheeks.

Voldemort lifted his gaze off her. The invisible force that had been keeping her immobile vanished. She slumped to the floor, on her knees, breathing hard. The taste of her own blood coated her tongue.

"The girl trusts you, Severus. She's convinced you're on her side. That you care for her."

"I have played my part well, my Lord. And Potter's young mind is particularly easy to manipulate."

Voldemort emitted a long hiss, the sound streaming from his cruel mouth, a strange, Parseltongue laugh that grated over Harrie's skin.

"Ah, do you hear that, Harrie? Your master enjoys playing with you."

"Snape loves me," she replied, stubbornly.

He'd seen it inside her head, she couldn't hide it anyway. She'd tried to resist Voldemort's Legilimency, and her mental shields had crumbled to nothing within seconds. His attack had been nothing like Snape's last year, when he had tried to train her. Snape's Legimilency was like smoke, something that seeped in, overwhelmed her mind until he seemed to be everywhere at once.

Voldemort's was a needle. A red hot, searing needle. It had pierced in, straight to the heart of her, and she had been unable to prevent him from perusing her memories at will.

"Love," he said.

He laughed again, tapping the tip of his long bone-white wand against his chin.

"What a clever web of lies you've woven for her," he said to Snape. "She has fallen for every single one. A young girl, and a Gryffindor at that. Such a gullible quarry."

Harrie glared at him. Behind her, Snape gave a short, mocking laugh.

"I admit I find great joy in making her believe I have feelings for her. It makes fucking her that much more delicious, and it also means I can get her to do anything I want, down to the most perverted acts. She doesn't refuse me anything."

Voldemort's red eyes gleamed.

"What a little slut," he said, slipping into Parseltongue. "Have you fucked her arse?"

"Of course. I've ruined all her holes."

Harrie squirmed, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, especially since Voldemort was eyeing her with such clear hunger. Snape didn't share, right? He wouldn't let Voldemort have her. He'd find a way to stop him.

"And the wolf?" Voldemort said. "Has he had her arse as well?"

"I'm sorry to report he has, my Lord. The little slut approached him first, and by the time I was fucking her, Lupin had already despoiled her fully. I suspect he even fucked her in his werewolf form."

The hunger faded from Voldemort's eyes, replaced by cold disgust.

"A pity she's been sullied in every hole," he said, leaning back in his throne-like chair.

He made a dismissive hand gesture. Snape grabbed her, hauled her to her feet, his hand firm and warm around her forearm. He dragged her away, and she went eagerly, though still unstable from the violent assault on her mind. Snape steadied her, walking slowly, supporting her weight.

In the corridor, they passed by Narcissa. Snape exchanged a nod with the witch, but she avoided Harrie's gaze, looking away as soon as their eyes met. Harrie wondered what she thought of her situation with Snape. Perhaps she was assuming Snape was taking advantage of her, even forcing her. That all their sexual encounters resembled that brutal, claiming kiss he had pushed on her in public.

Whatever her thoughts, Narcissa kept them to herself. She wasn't in any position to criticize Snape.

They had nearly reached the stairs when Bellatrix cut across their path, emerging from an adjacent room. Harrie had the feeling she'd been lying in wait, waiting to ambush them.

"Snape," she said, with a fake, too-sweet smile.

"Bellatrix," Snape replied, in a polite voice where contempt lurked around the edges of the syllables.

"Having fun with your little bitch?"

She directed her smile at Harrie, as it morphed into a sharp, goading thing.

"I'm not inquiring about your sex life, Bellatrix. Kindly afford me the same courtesy."

"You're no fun at all. What about you, Harrie? Are you enjoying Snape's cock?"

"A lot," Harrie said, seeing no reason to lie, refusing to let herself be shamed for liking sex.

Bellatrix laughed.

"Merlin, what did you do to her, Snape? She could be under the Imperius and there'd be no difference."

"No Unforgivables necessary. Potter is a born slut. She's never happier than when she's on her back."

"The Girl-Who-Lived," Bellatrix crowed. "How far you've fallen, Harrie. Warming Snape's bed until he gets bored of you."

Snape made a noncommittal sound, directed Harrie up the stairs. More eyes followed them, watching from within the portraits lining the curving walls of the staircase. Judging her, all of them.

"Will you?" she asked once they were back in Snape's room.

"Will I what?"

"Get bored of me."

He smirked at her.

"How could I, when you're such a troublesome girl? I'll always have my hands full with you."

She smirked back, went to sit on the bed. Her head ached, a diffuse pain that throbbed in time with her heartbeat. It used to hurt like this after Snape invaded her mind, but it never lasted long—a minute, at most.

Snape slipped a hand into the folds of his robes, retrieved a small vial from one of his inner pockets, held it out to Harrie. She took it with a muttered 'thank you'. It tasted of cinnamon, and instantly soothed the pain.

She relaxed into the pillows with a sigh, closed her eyes.

"You handled yourself well," he said.

"He knows I love you, and he just finds it amusing. He can't imagine..."

She trailed off. The less they talked about it, the better. Voldemort could always search her mind again, find something that would make him suspect Snape's loyalties.

"Of course it's amusing," Snape said, in a light tone. "The Chosen One, sixteen years old, spreading her legs for a Death Eater twenty years older, willingly sharing his bed."

She cracked one eye open. He was watching her with a calm gaze, his face blank. Was he Occluding already? Maybe Voldemort would look into his mind next.

"Did you tell them I was willing? Narcissa wouldn't even look at me."

"She asked me how it began between us."

"And what did you say?"

"The truth. I found you bent over Lupin's desk and fed you my cock. I made you choke on it."

It was a memory Harrie recalled fondly. She had masturbated to it more than a few times during the nights Remus had been away.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "You promised you wouldn't, and then you did."

His mouth twitched.

"I lack restraint with you."

It sounded like another I love you.

He turned away, adjusted his cloak.

"I can't stay," he said. "The Dark Lord has called for a meeting, and then I'll be at Hogwarts all day."

"It's fine," she said, meaning I love you too. "Wake me up if I've fallen asleep."

It was her fourth day at Malfoy Manor, and just like in the cottage, she spent her time alone. Snape slept with her every night, but couldn't stay much otherwise. Last night he'd gotten back very late, when she had already fallen asleep, and he had joined her in bed without waking her up.

She had ridden his cock in the morning, but still. She liked it better with sex twice a day.

"I shall," he promised.

He kissed her before leaving, with enough fire that she was instantly aroused, and nearly clung to his robes and argued for a quickie.

Once he was gone, she puttered around the room, looking out of the window, sitting at the desk, picking up a book Snape had gotten her, putting it back down. From her little haven of safety, she worried for her friends, for Remus, wondered what they were doing at this moment. Had they found more Horcruxes? How would Remus manage the full moon next month? With no more Wolfsbane, he'd either put himself in danger, or risk the safety of someone else.

She had raised the subject with Snape again yesterday, and he had (again) told her that she didn't have to worry about that. Maybe he had sent Remus some potions by owl. She understood he couldn't tell her if he had. Pretending to love her so she would willingly debase herself in his bed was one thing, but Voldemort wouldn't look kindly upon Snape helping Remus in any way.

She missed Hedwig, too. Now that she was out of the Fidelius' influence, Hedwig should have been able to find her, and Harrie spent long stretches of time watching the sky, hoping to see the white plumage of her owl. All in vain, so far. She had asked Snape about her, and he was also refusing to give her any answer on that point, repeating that she didn't need to fill her head with such worries, and that her only task was to spread her legs. She knew it was code for everything is fine . She still hated it.

The house elf popped in around noon, delivered lunch. Harrie ate, then spent some hours reading the book provided by Snape. It was very entertaining, with a cunning heroin stuck in a decaying manor, working to solve a murder mystery.

She had reached the second to last chapter and had several theories about who the killer was when the house elf came back with dinner.

"Already?" Harrie said. And then, "Dinner? Are you sure?"

A glance out of the window confirmed the sun had traveled a fair distance across the sky. Harrie hadn't seen the hours pass, engrossed in her book.

"Nary is sure," the elf said. "Nary must bring the meals on time."

"What time is it, exactly?"

The elf disappeared without answering her question. Harrie set down the book, started on dinner.

She was about halfway through it when Snape came back. He looked preoccupied, brushed off her offer to share the rest of her dinner, replying he had already eaten. He removed his cloak, fiddled with the buttons on his sleeves, watching her, then went to the window, bracing his arms on the sill.

Harrie frowned.

"What's wrong? Tell me."

He took an audible breath, turned to her.

"The Dark Lord is holding a revel tomorrow night."

"A revel," Harrie repeated, testing out the word, guessing at what it meant.

"Exactly what you're imagining. A night of wild festivities, where the basest instincts are let loose, and there are carnal enjoyments."

"You mean an orgy."

"The Dark Lord wants me to participate," Snape said, and Harrie knew when he said 'me', he meant 'us'. "I don't usually take part in revels. I've never found any of the girls attractive, and I dislike making a public spectacle of my sex life."

Harrie set down her fork.

"You can't refuse," she said.

"I could."

She bit her lips, almost smiled. There was such a fierce fire in his gaze. If she asked him, he would refuse. And then Voldemort would torture him for disobeying his orders, and would possibly suspect the truth—that he was hers, that he'd always been hers.

She rose, approached him, molded her body to his, looping her arms around his neck.

"I don't want you to," she said. "I want to do it."

"I'll fuck you in public," he said, setting a hand at her back.

"That's fine."

"I'll be brutal."

"Yes, please."

"Everyone will see you naked."

"And they'll all be jealous because you're the only one allowed to touch me. Because I'm yours."

His hand slid up, tangled in her hair.

"I'll make you come," he said, voice dropping low, sparking a smoldering fire between her thighs.

"And leave me dripping with your cum?"

"Everywhere," he promised, and kissed her.

The kiss quickly became more, and within a minute, she was grinding against him, sucking hard on his tongue. She could feel him hardening in his trousers. He growled against her lips, gently pushed her back.

"Finish your dinner," he said.

"Yes, sir," she replied, in an equally low voice.

She licked his jaw before going back to her omelet. The dessert was treacle tart again, and she would have happily eaten it at every meal.

Snape sat opposite her, let her feed him one bite of tart.

"Will you need a Lust potion?" he said.

He had just licked her fingers, so her mind was still on that, and the question threw her for a loop.

"What? What for?"

"For the revel."

There clearly had been some miscommunication between them if he was asking that.

"Of course not. I just need you."

He made a throaty, thoughtful noise.

"...will you need one?" she said, unsure.

"No."

An immediate, definite answer. He was going to fuck her in front of Voldemort, in front of many, many Death Eaters, and he'd be aroused. He would enjoy it, just like she would. Harrie was aware it wasn't normal to be fine with her teacher fucking her publicly, showing her off as his pet, pretending he owned her and was forcing her to please him sexually.

It wasn't normal, but then again she had never been normal.

She was Harrie Potter, and this was her life.

She finished her dinner, grabbed her book, hopped onto the bed. Comfortably leaned back into the pillows, she got back to her reading.

"Have you read it?" she asked Snape.

"Yes."

"Did you guess it right?"

He nodded.

"I think the butler did it," Harrie said.

He merely smiled, without comment. She reached the end of the chapter, immediately started on the last one, her eyes glued to the page. She read faster and faster, gasped at the twist. She hadn't guessed right.

"The gardener! But he seemed so... inept."

He'd been in the background of the novel, and Harrie had completely dismissed him.

"Appearances can be very deceiving," Snape said, in his teacher voice.

He joined her on the bed, plucked the book from her hands, and crawled on top of her. She spread her legs to make room for him, then locked them around his waist, surging up to kiss him.

"What else can you teach me, Professor?"

"Do you feel you still have things... to learn... from me?" he purred, nipping soft bites down her throat.

"Oh yes," she said, shamelessly groping his arse, arching up into him.

"Aren't you an eager student."

They spent the rest of the evening exploring just how eager she was.

*

"You're fidgeting again, Miss Potter."

Harrie froze, let her hands fall, stopped tapping her foot against the chair's leg.

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

Narcissa smiled at her in the mirror, slid another hairpin into Harrie's hair. The diamond mounted on top of the metallic pin gleamed as it settled among her curls.

She'd been sitting in front of the vanity for what felt like hours, though it was probably just one in reality, while Narcissa applied makeup to her face and twisted her hair into an elaborate updo. Harrie didn't really understand what was the point of doing anything to her hair. The hairstyle wouldn't hold. It'd unravel as soon as Snape would start thrusting, and she'd end up with the usual post-sex mess of curls.

A trickle of gentle magic brushed her scalp. Narcissa was using spells to try and get her hair to behave, with mixed success so far. Harrie also had never had so many hairpins in her hair, not even the night of the Yule Ball, where Lavender had done her hair.

"Tip your head back a bit further, please."

Harrie did, and the older witch tugged lightly on a recalcitrant strand of hair, pinning it flat again. For the fifth time.

"That's the James Potter cowlick," Harrie said. "It's basically untameable."

"I cannot send you off with a stray bit of hair just sticking out," Narcissa said, sounding frustrated.

"Oh, Snape won't mind, really."

Narcissa stopped her efforts. Their eyes met again in the mirror. Hesitantly, she let the cowlick go, and it sprung up like a happy blade of dark grass.

"I was told to get you ready for the revel," she said, fingers trailing down to Harrie's shoulders.

"To make me look pretty. And what you've done is enough, don't you think?"

Narcissa relented, setting down the spare hairpins on the wooden counter.

"I suppose," she said.

She took in the whole of Harrie's face in the mirror, though this time she avoided looking her in the eyes. It was about then that Harrie had a horrible thought.

"Will Draco be there?"

Please say no, please say no...

The flash of emotions that rippled across Narcissa's didn't bode well. And then she didn't say no.

"It will be his first revel."

Harrie groaned. She was completely fine with the Death Eaters seeing her naked. Rowle, Greyback, Dolohov, Pettigrew, Rookwood, Yaxley, Bellatrix, the Carrows, even Lucius, she didn't mind. They could eye her bits all they wanted, and lust over her.

But Draco... it was different.

"And you?" she said.

Narcissa gave a tight shake of her head, her mouth pinching.

"I don't partake in these debaucheries."

She touched a hairpin at the back of Harrie's head, shifting it slightly.

"Miss Potter, are you..." She hesitated. "Are you in love with Severus?"

Oh, well.

"Yeah," Harrie said, smiling widely, her chest bursting with warmth at the simple thought of it. She loved Snape, and she could say it, and... "He loves me back."

She could say the truth, and Narcissa would see a deluded, lovesick teenager, and a man who was exploiting her feelings, and she'd pity Harrie.

"What about Mister Lupin?"

Harrie noted that she hadn't said 'the werewolf', as everyone did here, following Voldemort's example.

"I love Remus too. I love them both, and I don't want to have to choose between them."

Narcissa smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Why don't we have a look at everything in the mirror?" she suggested.

Harrie got up, went to stand in front of the full-length mirror.

She barely recognized herself.

Dark lines of kohl framed her eyes, gold dust gleaming at the edges and upon her eyelids, highlighting the green of her irises. A scattering of pink blush brought color to her cheeks and made her freckles more visible, while her lips were painted a bright red.

Her hair was gathered into a tight braid and pinned in a coil at the back of her head. Half a dozen diamond-studded pins shone in her dark tresses. A strand of emeralds adorned her forehead, the gems resting cool and glistening against her skin, strung together by a golden chain that clinked with the slightest movement.

She was wearing... well, not much. Harrie didn't think it could even be called a dress.

Sure, it covered her body, but the fabric was transparent, showing off pretty much everything. Folds of golden, thin fabric glittered over her curves, her breasts and the mound of her sex clearly visible. She had no bra on, and no knickers.

Her nails were painted in gold as well, a magical nail polish that glowed with its own internal light, as if she were wearing jewels at each fingertip.

She looked like a living jewel herself, luminous and precious.

She also looked like a whore.

Snape would love it. She wished Remus was there to see her as well. She hadn't really dressed up for them while at Hogwarts. She rarely wore makeup, too impatient to apply it correctly herself, so she always had to seek Lavender's help, and while she had put on sexy lingerie, it had never reached that level.

"Yeah," she said, her eyes roaming over her figure. "That's good."

Possibly Snape would come in his trousers at the very sight of her.

There was a knock at the door, right on cue. Narcissa went to open it, and Snape stepped in. His eyes fell on her.

He froze.

It was sort of funny, because he'd clearly been about to say something, and then he just stood there with his mouth half-open, staring at her. She gave him a little wave. He finally closed his mouth after a good five seconds, cleared his throat.

"Potter," he said, two sharp syllables that still contained something soft at their core, something just for her.

"I assume she is to your satisfaction" Narcissa said, in a bitter tone.

He gave a single nod, not taking his eyes off Harrie, and signaled for her to come closer.

"Thank you, Mrs Malfoy," Harrie said, smiling at the older witch before she hurried to Snape's side.

He set a hand on her shoulders, walking her down the corridor.

"Did you come in your trousers?" she asked.

"No. I am, however, unbearably hard."

"Good," she said, leaning into him. She lifted a hand to jingle the chain of emeralds. "The jewels are a bit too much, but I like the rest. I wish I'd dressed up more for you back at Hogwarts."

"You are exquisitely beautiful wearing nothing at all."

His thumb stroked the start of her throat, tenderly, punctuating his declaration.

"Mmm, but it's fun to change things up sometimes. I'll dress up for you and Remus, just to surprise you."

"He would definitely come in his trousers if he saw you now."

He slid his hand back to her forearm, in a more possessive grip.

"We'll perform the opening act of the evening. Once we're done, I'll bring you back to my room. No doubt you will need aftercare, my sweet little slut. I'm about to be very rough with you."

"I'm unbearably wet," she replied, which also meant I'm ready and don't hold back.

They entered the drawing room. Everyone was already here, a dozen Death Eaters, Voldemort's favored chosen. Immediately, Harrie was the target of many lustful gazes, while a few whistled at her, commenting lewdly on her body. To her relief, Draco appeared ill at ease, and when she looked in his direction, he avoided her eyes.

There were no other girls yet, no frightened or Imperiused Muggles, for which Harrie was immensely grateful. She wouldn't have been able to focus on Snape if there were other prisoners along with her.

Voldemort was seated on a high-backed chair by the fire, lounging lazily, a glass of red wine in hand. Nagini was draped across his shoulders, her head nestled near his throat, watching the room with languid focus. Her tongue flicked out as Snape brought Harrie closer, and she hissed.

"The hatchling is dripping with desire..."

"A debauched little slut," Voldemort said, swirling his wine around with a casual wrist movement. "Happy to take cock from her master, anytime, anywhere. Isn't that right, Harrie? "

"Yes. "

"Narcissa did an admirable job on you. One could almost forget you've slummed with the wolf."

Dangerous words.

"I miss him," Harrie said. "His cock was bigger than Snape's around the full moon."

Voldemort didn't have a nose, but if he had had one, Harrie was pretty sure it would have wrinkled in distaste. He took a long swallow of his wine, his gaze switching to Snape. He smiled at him, a cruel stretching of his mouth, and gestured with his free hand.

"Go on, Severus. Show us what you've done to the Girl-Who-Lived. What a slut you've turned her into."

Snape shoved Harrie forward, in the center of the room. There was no bed in sight. Was he going to fuck her on the floor? Right on the cold wood parquet? That seemed a bit uncivilized, even for Death Eaters.

"Not much tits on her," Rowle said, with a leering stare.

"Doesn't matter, as long her cunt is tight enough," Greyback said. "Wonder how loud she can scream."

"She already slept with one wolf," Bellatrix said. "I'm sure the little bitch wouldn't mind another."

"Severus doesn't share," Rowle pointed out. "Such a waste."

A hand suddenly wound in her hair, close to her scalp, tugging her head back.

"Eyes on me, Potter," Snape ordered.

When she obeyed, he brushed her lips with his thumb.

"I'm the only one you'll care about tonight. All your little brain will be focused on is pleasing me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good slut. On your knees."

She knelt down, undid his belt without being told to. The row of buttons was easily undone as well, and she had his cock out in a matter of seconds. Someone made a comment about how adept she was at that. She ignored it. None of the eyes on her mattered, none of the words she'd hear mattered.

Only Snape did.

She licked the fat head of his prick, sucked on it sloppily while holding his gaze. His hand twined closer to her scalp, and he directed her, guiding her into a steady rhythm. She took more of him into her mouth while stroking the rest of his hard shaft with one hand, obediently bobbing her head, drooling slick saliva onto his length.

"That's it. Take my cock in your pretty little mouth. Deeper... aaah, there we go."

He grunted when the head of his cock breached her throat. She gagged on him, moaned, the sound muffled by his cock. He pulled back just enough to let her breathe, pushed forward again, timing it perfectly. And did it again, and again, fucking her throat the exact way she liked it, rough, at the very edge of too much.

His considerable girth stretched her jaw on every thrust, she was drooling a lot, her eyes were watering, and she was perfectly happy there, taking his cock, kneeling in a room full of Death Eaters, with Voldemort himself watching.

No. They didn't matter.

They weren't there.

Only Severus.

His gaze glittered darkly, his lips curled back in pleasure as he used her mouth. Harrie keened around his cock, sending vibrations along the hard shaft, her own eyes no doubt clouded with arousal. She felt exceptionally alive, every inch of her skin thrumming with energy, her cunt aching, her clit swollen.

"Touch yourself," Snape said, with a long, slow slide down her throat. "Sink two fingers into your cunt while you're choking on my cock."

She did choke on it, and while her throat spasmed around the cockhead, she rucked up her dress and slid a hand between her legs. Her fingers glided through her soaked folds. She rubbed her clit, emitting more sounds of pleasure around Snape's cock, then inserted two fingers inside her, stuffing her cunt with them.

"Are you wet, slut?" Snape asked.

He pulled her off his cock, slapped her cheek with his erection, smearing saliva and pre-cum on her skin.

"Yes, sir. So wet for you..."

"Fuck yourself harder."

Moaning in assent, she pumped her digits inside her, pushing them deep, leaking juices all over her hand. Snape stroked himself, tapping his cockhead against her lips, painting more pre-cum there. She licked at it, opened her mouth and sucked on him all on her own, while she rocked her hips, moving her hand faster.

"Don't come," Snape said, jerking her head back, stopping her from filling her mouth with his cock again.

She whined at being denied both the release of an orgasm and the pleasure of sucking his cock.

"You'll come on my cock, slut, not before. Show me those fingers."

She ripped them away from her tight clutching heat, displayed her hand, glistening fingers and wet palm. A perverse smile slashed across Snape's face.

"Dripping wet," he purred. "What an obedient slut I have. So eager to get on her knees and please her master. Hands on your thighs now. Stay still while I use your pretty little mouth."

Harrie placed her hands flat on her thighs, opened her mouth. He grabbed her head with both hands, snapped his hips forward, thrusting in roughly, his cock spearing its way in until she gagged on it. Grunting, he pulled back to allow her to take a breath, and pressed in again. Deep, so deep.

It would have been more correct to say that he was going to use her throat.

He fucked her face to a hard rhythm, his hips flexing powerfully, his cock all but throbbing inside her. Her lips touched the base of him every time he buried himself down her throat, her nose skimming the sparse dark hair of his groin. Hot tears were leaking from her eyes, her face a flushed, wet mess, and her inner thighs were sticky from her own desperate arousal.

Feral pleasure glowed on Snape's face, scorching her in turn. She looked down so she wouldn't come. It had happened before. She'd come without any stimulation, just from the heat of his gaze and his cock pumping between her lips.

Snape's groans deepened, his pace quickened. The obscene wet noises of the blowjob gained in volume. She clutched at her own thighs, watched that thick prick disappear in her mouth while she drooled and moaned helplessly.

His thrusts got shorter, his hands grasped her head harder, nails scratching her scalp. She was convinced he was going to come directly down her throat, and she was preparing herself for it, when he suddenly withdrew completely.

She took a gulping breath, a thin strand of saliva hanging between his cock and her lips. He gathered her hair in his fist, wrapped slender fingers around his prick.

"Mouth open. Stick out your tongue."

He set the head of his cock on her tongue, stroked himself, hand rotating on his slick shaft.

"Look at you," he growled. "Just waiting for my cum. Happy to take it in any hole, are you? Want it coating your tongue?"

She whined, low, urgent, keeping her mouth open for him, driven wild with desire by the weight of the velvety, hot cockhead on her tongue. He was breathing hard, and he fisted his cock harder, faster, until, finally—

"You'll take it in every hole tonight... aah..."

He came with a curse, erupting over her tongue, pulsing jets of salty, bitter cum. She didn't move, waiting for him to be done, for the last twitch of his cock and the last spurt of semen. She didn't move after either, letting several seconds tick by so Snape could admire her mouth filled with his release, the white strands on her tongue.

Then she swallowed, and showed him her tongue again, now clean. His dark eyes gleamed.

"You love that taste, don't you, slut?" he said.

"I love it."

I love you.

And he replied, with a single, gentle press of his fingers at the back of her head, so quick and so minute no one could notice, not when his hand was half-buried in the thick curls of her hair.

One tender gesture.

I love you too.

His hand turned into a claw, and he hauled her up, brutally so. She stood on unsteady legs, leaned into him, still breathing heavily. He drew out his wand. Harrie was relieved to see him conjure a bed. She wouldn't be fucked on the floor.

Not that she objected to a good floor fuck, but there was time for it, and it wasn't during a Death Eater revel.

The bed looked just like Snape's bed, dark wood and dark sheets, which was perfect. Harrie sprawled onto the mattress face-first when Snape shoved her down, and she moaned, high and needy, very much on purpose.

Snape joined her, set a hand at her nape, cracked a hard hand across her arse through the flimsy dress. Harrie bit her lips and spread her legs, ready to be spanked until her buttocks were red and raw if Snape wanted it that way. But he didn't spank her more. He tugged her dress up, caressed the round globes of her arse, fingers dipping down to her cunt, swiping back up.

When he shifted closer, she felt the press of his cock against her thigh. He was already hard again.

"Should I tell you what I'm going to do to you? Does my little slut want to know how she'll be fucked?"

"Cum in every hole," Harrie gasped, squeezing his hand with her thighs.

"I already told you that. But how will I take you, Potter?"

He thrust his fingers inside her, pulling a loud whine from her.

"On your back, watching your face as I pound your cunt? On your stomach, watching my cock enter your hole? Perhaps I'll have you ride me and forbid you to come at all."

"Please," she said, and she rocked back against his fingers, seeking more.

She didn't care how he fucked her as long as he did. She just wanted him.

"No preference?" he said in a mocking tone. "Then I'll have you like the bitch you are. Mounting you from behind."

He braced an arm under her chest, jerked her up until she was on all fours. She curled her fingers into the sheets, panting.

"And get that off," Snape said, grabbing her dress.

She thought he would pull it off her, and was ready to help with that, but he simply yanked on it, hard, and the dress tore in two, falling off her body. Snape emitted a rumble of approval. His large hands palmed her curves, smoothed up her sides, stroked her breasts. He pinched her nipples, rolling them between his deft fingers, the sensations echoing sharply in her cunt.

She needed him.

She needed him now, she needed—

"Ah!"

His cock, spearing right into her. She almost collapsed, and almost came, managed somehow to stop herself from doing both.

"Ah, ah, ah—"

He was fucking her, already thrusting at a rapid pace, pushing his thick prick in her until he filled her to the brim.

Again.

And again, and again, and—

"Aaah, please..."

She wasn't sure why she was begging. It was perfect. His hands on her, his body over her, his cock in her, perfect, perfect. Maybe she was begging because he liked her begging.

Liked her losing her mind, liked her incoherent, falling apart on his cock.

"How sweet you sound, Potter. Begging for more of my cock."

He grasped her hips, pulled her back into him, altering his pace—not faster, but more intense. Deeper, heavier strokes, forcing more friction onto her walls, putting more pressure on her g-spot, while the wet slap of his hips smacking into her arse remained a constant.

He bent further over her, licked her throat in a broad, hot swipe of tongue. She clenched around him, shaking, and he growled, licked her again, slower.

"You're taking all my cock in that tight hole..."

She couldn't stop shuddering. Her mind clouded with hazy heat, she trembled and she moaned, and it seemed to her she was coming already, coming without stopping, or without any peaks, just soaring on an impossibly high wave, her cunt gripping Snape's cock in flutters. He was throbbing inside her, always inside her, coming back to her, again and again and again.

A grunt at her ear, like rough gravel, and then a hand on her belly, splayed there, and she realized he was feeling himself inside her, feeling the slight bulge of his cock with each surge of his hips.

"Can you feel me?" he whispered. "Stretching you to your limits?"

He paused with his hips pressed flush against her arse, balls deep in her. Every hard inch of him, snug in her cunt, cockhead pushed against her cervix. She wanted him to come there, wanted him to drench her cunt with his seed.

"Plea—se—"

He made a sound that was close to a chuckle—an evil chuckle, oh, he was enjoying himself immensely (and oh, she loved him)—rocked into her in longer thrusts.

"Mmm, your tight cunt is gripping my cock... It's not going to be tight at all once I'm done with you, slut. I'll leave it wrecked."

She was frantic now, squirming, gritting out more warbled pleas, and then—

His name.

"Severus..."

Three syllables, each one clawed from her throat, lost to anyone but him, drowned out by the loud slaps of their bodies.

He groaned, muttered something, then pressed a slick thumb at her anus, and slid it in. Pushed the thick digit right into her arse. She shrieked, fell apart, heat swelling in a great rush.

Rapture.

Exhilarating rapture.

Her body locked up, her cunt going vice-tight around Snape's cock, and she convulsed, the tectonic shift of her climax turning her inside out. Fluid gushed from her, soaking the bed. She barely felt it when she collapsed forward some moments later, so winded she didn't even moan.

She did, however, feel Snape's hips flex forward. He drove into her with feral intensity, pounding her into the bed, using her spent body for his own pleasure. It didn't take him long to come. Two minutes, maybe, and his hips stalled, a low exhale leaving his mouth as he spilled inside her in thick spurts.

He pulled out, called her a good slut, and then, with no pause, he spread her arse cheeks and—he was still hard, how was he still hard?—he was pushing in her arse. She mewled, suddenly filled in a different manner, her empty cunt spasming, her arse fulled of a very rigid, very thick cock.

"Ggnnnaaah—"

"Good girl," Snape said, smoothing a hand up her spine.

He rocked gently into her for a couple of thrusts, and he must have cast a lubrication spell while she'd been distracted, because everything glided easily, her arse opening up for him. Then he got right back to an intense pace, one that produced more vulgar sounds, his balls hitting her dripping slit with wet smacks.

She clawed at the sheets, half-drooling, half-moaning out broken sobs of pleasure. A second orgasm struck from nowhere, wrenched a strangled scream from her, and left her completely limp.

Snape's thrusts faltered. He shuddered on top of her, sheathed himself fully a final time, and came with a guttural groan. He pulled out halfway through his orgasm, ejaculating the last spurts over her arse and her back, painting her skin with his spend. Harrie moaned weakly, perfectly happy to have his cum in all three holes, as well as on her.

"The little slut must have such loose holes by now," someone said.

It was only then that Harrie remembered there were other people in the room. That they hadn't been alone all this time. It had felt like it was just Snape and her. The Death Eaters must have made comments on her body, must have masturbated to the spectacle of Snape fucking her, and she hadn't paid any attention to it.

Through half-opened eyes, she was aware of movement near the bed. Then Snape growled.

"If you come any closer, I'll remove your balls and feed them to you," he said.

The person apologized in a squeaking, hasty voice, and Harrie recognized Pettigrew. He retreated, but she could still sense him hovering near by. Was his cock out? Ugh, she didn't want to see that.

Voldemort spoke next, congratulating Snape for putting on an excellent show.

"You truly turned the girl into the most depraved slut," he added, and Harrie could feel his gaze on her. "It seems love has value after all."

Everyone laughed at that. Snape chuckled, like Voldemort's joke was truly funny.

"I enjoy subtlety most of all," he said, running a lazy hand down Harrie's back. "Though I have to say Potter was an easy target. So starved for affection..."

He shifted, lifted her in his arms. She looped her arms around his neck and turned her face into his chest, sighing.

"You do not wish to stay, Severus?"

"My Lord knows I have little taste for these events. Besides, I plan to make further use of Potter in private."

Voldemort hummed in assent, and that was it. They were free to go.

Snape carried her up the stairs, moving smoothly. She was so very sore, and leaking his cum from both holes, which made her feel very filthy, in a comforting way. Her mind was hazy, as if removed one degree from her body, like she was floating outside herself. She clung tighter to Snape, murmuring his name.

He brought her into the bathroom, where a bath was waiting for her. He lowered her into the bathtub, directly into the hot water. She closed her eyes once she was fully immersed, the warmth both soothing and delightful.

Snape got in with her, bringing the water level higher.

"Is this okay?" he asked, kneeling close to her.

"Mmm."

He washed her with care, running a cloth over her body. His movements were meticulous, and lulled her toward a relaxed, happy state. She leaned her head into his hand when he washed her face, inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly.

She was fine.

Warm, content, safe.

And the bath was so familiar. Honey and lavender, just like at Hogwarts.

"Smells like Remus' bath salts," she murmured.

"He told me you enjoyed those fragrances."

She smiled at him, amused by his confession.

"When did you ask him?"

"Sometime in December," Snape said, caressing her cheek with the cloth.

"I wish he knew you're on our side."

Snape didn't answer, moved on to taking care of her hair. He removed the two pins that had survived the rough sex, undid her braid, then his fingers massaged her scalp, working shampoo into her roots.

"Sorry I used your first name back there," Harrie said. "It just... came out."

It bothered her, that she had called him Severus for the first time during a Death Eater orgy. It should have been whispered into his ear for him alone.

"Don't apologize. I liked it."

"Next time it'll be just for you."

"But it was just for me," he pointed out, with a smirk.

He rinsed her hair, and when she was all clean, they cuddled right in the bath, Harrie tucking herself against him while he wrapped his arms around her. Her head resting in the crook of his neck, she closed her eyes and let herself drift off.

No one could hurt her while she was with Snape.

*

Severus didn't move, a sleeping Potter nestled against him.

She'd taken the ordeal of the revel remarkably well. He'd been afraid of the effects it would have on her, and he'd been ready to refuse Voldemort's request, no matter how many Cruciatus he would have to endure. He hadn't been exactly surprised that she'd wanted to do it—it was Potter, the girl had very few limits—and he'd done his best to make her forget they were having sex in public, but he'd thought the aftercare would be harder.

He'd thought she would have needed reassurance that he hadn't meant it when he'd called her an easy target, saying she was starved for affection. He'd contemplated methods to tell her he loved her again, while maintaining his cover.

But she hadn't asked for any of that.

She had seemed like she'd just been through a normal session.

A small smile sneaked onto his lips when he realized he'd been underestimating her. Making the same mistake as everyone else.

She fidgeted in his arms, nuzzled her face closer to his throat, sighed. He trailed a hand down her back, looking down at her sleek dark hair and the delicate profile of her face. A swell of emotions near choked him.

I love you. I love you, you brilliant, impossible girl.

He waited until she'd fallen into a deeper sleep, carried her out of the bath and to the bed, drying her with a spell. He tucked her in beneath the blankets, watched her for a moment.

Then he took his wand out.

He didn't need any memories. All he cared about was right here, asleep in his bed.

"Expecto Patronum," he said, without taking his eyes off Potter.

Silver light illuminated the room, his doe cascading down from the tip of his wand. Her ears flicked, and she rested her muzzle against his palm.

"Monday night. Bring everyone. For Harrie."

The doe scampered out of the window, carrying his message into the night. Severus watched her go. She'd find Lupin, and that would be enough. The doe, a mirror of Potter's Patronus, and those words: that would prove he was sincere. Lupin was many things, too soft, a coward sometimes, but he wasn't stupid.

He'd come. They all would.

Severus looked back at Potter.

"For Harrie," he repeated in a murmur.

Chapter Text

Something was wrong with Snape.

It was as clear as his giant stupid nose, and yet he refused to tell her what the problem was. He'd come back to have lunch with her (hint number one), he was on edge, the fingers of his right hand flexing as if he meant to grip his wand (hint number two), and he was Occluding like she'd rarely seen him, his gaze flat and dead (hint number three).

"Just tell me!"

His jaw clenched. Hint number four, and she didn't need any more, she wasn't that thick. Not when it came to Snape.

"There is nothing to be gained from it," he said in a clipped tone.

She crossed her arms.

"It's clearly important, and I'm sick of being kept in the dark. If it concerns me at all, you have to tell me."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed. She was getting to him. Just a little bit more...

"Severus, please."

A ripple on his face. There.

"Something is happening tonight," he said, each word seemingly wrenched from his throat. "You will stay here. You cannot be—"

"You can't expect me to stay idle. I won't remain behind, not again. I'm sick of hiding!"

"This is for your own protection," he hissed, a splinter of emotions forcing its way out, breaking through his Occlumency shields. "You're safer here. I cannot predict how things will unfold."

"I want to be with you. Whatever happens."

He shook his head, one tight, tense motion.

"That wouldn't be wise."

"Oh, because what you've got planned is wise? Leaving me tied up to your bed was wise? Come on, Snape. Severus. None of this..." She gestured between them. "...was wise to begin with."

A frustrated noise filtered through his nose. His wand hand clenched again, a tremor running through his fingers.

"There are many unknown variables," he said. "If you stay in my room, that's one less unknown."

He was afraid for her. She could see it now. He was terrified, and hiding it, because showing even one sliver of this very real emotion would get him killed, and because he didn't want her to see him like this.

Vulnerable.

"Alright. I'll stay."

His face shifted toward surprise.

"You'll stay?" he repeated, tone colored with disbelief.

"I understand your reasoning. You're right, it's definitely safer for me."

"Where did my reckless Gryffindor go?"

She smirked at him.

"I can be reasonable from time to time. And cunning." Her smile turned into a frown. "I just wish I had a wand."

He plunged a hand into his sleeve, and with a flourish, drew out a wand. It wasn't his. With a little jolt of shock, Harrie recognized Draco's wand.

"Wh—"

"I suppose I'm starting to know you pretty well," he said, which was the understatement of the century.

He handed her the wand, and she took it gratefully, instantly feeling better as soon as she gripped the handle.

"How did you even get it?"

"I told Draco he was being punished for his poor behavior during the revel. He didn't dare discuss my orders, and gave me his wand with no protest."

"Poor behavior?" Harrie said.

"He avoided looking at you nearly the entire time I was fucking you, and then later, it turns out he was unable to... perform."

"Sounds like he's not cut out to be a Death Eater."

"Yes. How disappointing."

They shared a meaningful look. Then Snape snapped his guarded face back on.

"I'll be downstairs tonight. The Dark Lord has called for a meeting, and it'll likely go on very late. You should stay here as long as you can."

"Okay," she said, a little breathlessly, wondering what was going to happen, her mind conjuring a hundred different scenarios.

"I mean it, Harrie. No matter the kind of noises you might hear... do try to stay hidden."

"Oh," she said.

He had called her Harrie. And she'd completely forgotten what she was going to say.

"Hidden," her mouth said.

Repeating the last word he'd said, great.

He stepped closer. His hands cupped her face, and his lips pressed against hers. She made a soft, mewling sound when his tongue slipped in. He kissed her very thoroughly, his palms cradling her jaw and cheeks, his mouth caressing, his tongue stroking. She completely forgot about the outside world for the entire duration of that kiss.

What a dangerous mouth he had. What an addiction he was. And what a starry-eyed, lovestruck girl she became, for him.

"Be careful," he said, with a final brush of his lips.

"You too."

He looked at her for a moment, dark eyes filled with longing, hands still cradling her face. Smiled, kissed her forehead, and headed out. The door closed.

Harrie swayed on her feet, and told herself it wasn't the last time they kissed. It wasn't the last time they saw each other. It wasn't, it wasn't.

But I'm a Horcrux, came a cold little voice, nagging from inside her.

Did Snape have a plan for that too? There weren't a lot of choices available, not that she could see. Unless he had found a potion that could help with that...

Nerves tight, stomach roiling, she paced around the room, sliding Draco's wand between her fingers.

Waiting.

Worrying.

Snape hadn't told her what would happen exactly. Would there be an attack on Voldemort? Had they gotten the two Horcruxes that were out there? Would the Order be there, or had Snape managed to get some other Death Eaters on his side? Perhaps Draco had lent him his wand willingly.

She went to the window, watched the garden for a time. Everything was calm, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Night fell in slow increments, the sky turning crimson and gold as the sun kissed the horizon, setting fire to the tree tops. The colors transitioned to a dark blue tinted with purple, and then the stars appeared overhead, in glittering dots.

The house elf brought her dinner. She forced herself to eat a few bites, even though she wasn't hungry at all. She was pretty much vibrating from apprehension at this point.

A sudden noise from downstairs startled her. Her head snapped up, and she dropped her fork to brandish her wand. She listened attentively for a few seconds, heard nothing more. It had sounded like a door being slammed very hard. Was that normal?

Abandoning her dinner, she approached the door, waited there.

More noises came to her ears, a mix of frantic voices, and then spells being shouted. A fight had broken out. Between whom? Harrie bit down on her lower lip, hesitating.

Stay hidden, Snape had said.

Stay safe. Wait for him to be done and fetch her? She wanted to rush downstairs and get into the fray. Her nerves burned with crackling adrenaline, and her feet were restless, shifting back and forth as she debated her next move.

The din of the battle was muffled. She couldn't make out any distinctive voices. Couldn't say who was winning, only that it was an ongoing fight.

A fight she wanted to be part of.

She pointed her wand at the door's lock.

"Alohomora."

There was a metallic click indicating the spell's success. She grabbed the handle, and—stopped.

Voices, just outside in the corridor. Two of them.

"...go back there! I'll handle the girl alone!"

Bellatrix, agitated, angry.

"I can't do anything without a wand!"

And Draco, pleading, sullen.

"I knew Snape couldn't be trusted," Bellatrix bit out. "Knew it."

Harrie retreated, hid behind the bed. She had a clear line of sight to the door, and that'd get her the element of surprise, which she sorely needed against Bellatrix. She'd experienced what the dark witch was capable of. Harrie couldn't take her in a fair fight.

The door burst open. Bellatrix swooped in, black wand first, her hair wild and her eyes wilder. Harrie surged up from behind the bed, and cast a non-verbal stun. The other witch ducked, reacting with a duelist's reflexes, and the red jet of light hit Draco just behind her. He toppled to the floor, sprawled unconscious in the doorway.

"Nice shot, Harrie!" Bellatrix said with a deranged cackle.

She wordlessly shielded from Harrie's next stun, and advanced forward, sending a cutting Hex in her direction. Harrie plunged back behind the bed, cursing when the spell impacted the wall after sizzling past her head.

"And you've got Draco's wand, well, well. Did Snape gave it to you? Too bad he's dead."

Harrie's heart lurched in her chest.

"You're lying!" she said, and cast another Stun, aiming at Bellatrix's feet from under the bed.

It was thwarted by a Protego, red meeting blue in a shower of sparks.

"Dead, dead, dead!" Bellatrix shouted, a hex accompanying each word.

They crashed into Harrie's shield, impacting it hard. The last one made her shield pop, and Harrie rolled under the bed to avoid the next attack.

"Oh, don't be like that, Harrie! Your friends are here! Don't you want to come see them?"

So it was the Order. Or Ron and Hermione, at least. Remus, too, probably.

She came out from the other side of the bed, thrust her wand forward.

"Crucio!"

A zap of magic burned her palm, the wand reacting in a backlash, black energy searing into her flesh. Her fingers went numb, and Draco's wand fell to the floor. Bellatrix laughed. Harrie heard her cast—"Crucio!"—tried to dodge, knew she'd failed when pain stomped her, mercilessly.

She didn't hear herself scream. She knew she was, because her throat was burning, all of her burning, but she didn't hear it. She was thrashing, too, her muscles contracting in jerky spasms, her spine arching off the carpet, burning, burning, dying, surely.

Her agony ended, from one second to the next. She gulped in a blessed lungful of air, one that didn't hurt, then screamed as a harsh hand grabbed her by the hair and hauled her upright.

"That's what a proper Cruciatus is, you see," Bellatrix said, jabbing her wand under Harrie's throat. "Now, come. If we delay much longer, the Dark Lord will have killed all your friends... you should at least watch some of them die."

She dragged a stumbling Harrie out of the room, not even stopping when they stepped over Draco. Harrie blindly clawed at her, got jolted with a painful bolt of magical energy in retaliation. Bellatrix tssked.

"Behave and I'll kill the Mudblood quickly instead of torturing her for hours."

Harrie wheezed, dropped her arms, letting Bellatrix pull her along while she recovered her strength. Her breath was too short, her head pounding, and when she swallowed, she got blood sliding down her throat.

Her mind was on Hermione as she stumbled and wheezed. On Hermione, and Ron, and everyone waiting for her downstairs...

On Snape.

He couldn't be dead.

Bellatrix was lying, she was lying, he wasn't dead.

They went down the stairs, and it was silent now, just a few murmurs of voices instead of the clamor and shouts of a fight. Whatever had happened, it was over. Bellatrix stopped a moment, stabbing Harrie further with her wand, until the point dug painfully into her throat, while she stood still and listened.

Voices drifted up, coming from the drawing room. Harrie couldn't make out what they were saying, but she recognized the low timbre of Remus, and then the calmer tones of Hermione, and was that Ron, too? They didn't sound like they were being tortured...

Bellatrix came to the same conclusion, snapped her teeth in a telling, wrathful motion, and dragged Harrie down the last steps with much more strength. The dark witch was tall for a woman, which made her considerably taller than Harrie. With the wand at her throat, she couldn't struggle much. When she tried to speak, to scream a warning to her friends, a quick silent spell hit her, and her mouth opened without any sound.

"I'll torture them all before your very eyes," Bellatrix hissed in her ear.

She sent a brutal jolt of electricity into Harrie, pinned her to the wall by the throat, and cast a look through the half-opened door of the drawing room, whipping her head in, retreating immediately. Her upper lip curled, more rage burning in her eyes. Harrie grinned at her.

"Problem, Bellatrix?" she mouthed.

That got her another painful zap right in the throat, but it was worth it. She coughed silently, her eyes watering, bent in half.

"I've got your bitch, Snape!" Bellatrix shouted. "I'll trade her for the Dark Lord! Release him!"

Alive, Harrie thought dazedly, so glad. Of course she'd been lying. And release him? Did they have Voldemort tied up?

More pain shot through her scalp as Bellatrix tightened her grip in her hair.

"Don't come any closer!" she added. "If you do, I'll kill her."

Her demand was met with only silence. Bellatrix pinned Harrie's head to the wall again, pressed the tip of her wand into her cheek. She was watching the half-open doorway with manic intensity, her teeth bared, her eyes gleaming.

"In fact... I'll kill her right now unless you release the Dark Lord! You have ten seconds!"

She started counting them down, loudly. Harrie's heart echoed the numbers, pumping fiercely.

"...seven! Six! Five!"

Harrie lunged, heedless of the pain. Her teeth sank deep into Bellatrix's hand, and she wrenched her head, as if aiming to take a bite out of the witch. Bellatrix groaned, her grip slackening just enough for Harrie to jerk free.

She ran for the door.

Collided with a shape in mid-air, right where there should have been nothing, and then there were arms around her, and smooth fabric against her face, and oh, she knew that texture. She'd wondered several times what had happened to her cloak of Invisibility. The answer was Snape. The cloak slid down partially, revealing his face. He half-pivoted, as if to move her behind him, and Harrie twisted around, just in time to see Bellatrix, wand raised, a snarl on her lips—

"Avada Kedavra."

The jet of green light arced from Snape's wand, hit Bellatrix in the chest. She fell backward, crumpling to the carpeted floor with a soft thump. Dead.

Definitely dead.

Harrie's mouth opened soundlessly again. Snape flicked his wand toward her throat, and she felt his magic tickle her as he lifted the spell.

"Severus," she rasped.

And kissed him.

It was probably very wrong, to kiss someone just after they had killed a person. You were supposed to say "what did you do?" or "you didn't have to kill her" or to cry with relief. But Harrie kissed him, really kissed him, desperate, eager, and he responded in kind, cupping the back of her head with a steady hand and plundering her mouth with his tongue.

She lost herself in him again. Or found herself. Or found—

"Errr," someone said.

They broke apart, both looked at Ron.

"We're on a bit on a tight schedule here," he said, "so you'll do the kissing later, alright?"

"As much as it pains me, Mr. Weasley is right," Snape said.

He tugged the cloak off him entirely, shrunk it down with a non-verbal spell, slipped it in his pocket, and tilted his head toward the drawing room, heading in. Harrie looked back at Bellatrix. Snape had killed for her, and... she didn't feel bad about it. Blood on her lips, murder in her heart, no regrets to be found.

"Harrie," Ron said, urgently.

"Yeah," she said.

She hugged him, tightly.

"Missed you."

"Me too," he huffed. "Sorry we didn't come sooner. We weren't sure..."

"...that Snape was on our side? I doubted him too, for a time."

Ron gave a long look at Bellatrix.

"No doubt left," he said.

The drawing room had more bodies on the floor. They weren't dead, merely Stunned. Harrie noted most major Death Eaters were there, unconscious, except for Lucius and Narcissa, who were standing nearby, wandless but unharmed. The headless corpse of Nagini lay near the hearth, bleeding black blood on the marble.

Tense smiles greeted her, from familiar faces. The entire Order was here, Hermione, Remus, Kingsley, Tonks, Moody, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Fleur, the twins, Neville. They all looked tired, and more than a few of them were bleeding or nursing wounds from spellfire, but no one was maimed, and no one was dead.

And in the center of the room, an impossible sight.

Voldemort, on his knees.

Ropes of living fire bound him, keeping him there, at the center of a circle drawn with blood. When their eyes meet, he smiled, a chilling, calm stretching of his pale lips.

"Ah, Harrie... I was waiting for you."

"What's going on?" Harrie asked.

Snape handed her a small vial.

"Drink."

She did, two mouthfuls of a sparkling liquid that tingled on her tongue.

"It will loosen the Horcrux inside you, and allow you to interact further with it," Snape said. "There was also some Basilisk venom in there, which should react with the dormant venom in your blood and activate it."

"The what?"

"You've been carrying some Basilisk venom in your body all these years. Fawkes healed you in the Chamber, and while his tears counteracted the effects of the venom, it didn't remove it from your veins. It was there, only not in any active capacity. I just made it stronger, strong enough to destroy the Horcrux, if you use it well."

"How do I use it?"

Voldemort laughed.

"They mean to have us fight in our minds, Harrie. We already know who'll win, don't we? "

"Enough with the hissing!" Moody barked.

He slashed his wand forward, casting a silencing spell on Voldemort, who sent a malicious grin at Harrie.

"You'll fight him in your mind," Snape said. "Both of them, the Horcrux and him. It will be like Legilimency, except more..." He hesitated on the word. "Intense," he settled on.

"What about the other Horcruxes? The locket, the diadem?"

"We took care of the diadem," Remus said, stepping closer. "It was at Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement."

He looked well, and actually healthier than the last time she'd seen him. She wanted to ask him a thousand questions, knew there was no time. In the circle of runes, Voldemort was straining against his bonds, sweeping a murderous red gaze over everyone.

"And I destroyed the locket," Snape said. "Months ago, though you couldn't have known," he added for Harrie.

"So there's just me."

"Just you. The second circle will need to be drawn with your blood."

She nodded. Of course she'd need to bleed more. Of course this wasn't over. She'd have to fight for her soul now.

Snape gently rolled back the sleeve of her left arm, made a diagonal cut across her arm, and led her in a circle while she let her blood drip to the floor. It was a steady drip, enhanced by a bit of Snape's magic. Two minutes later, the circle was complete, connected to Voldemort's on one side. Snape healed her arm, the tip of his hand hovering above her skin, sealing the cut.

"I have something that might help you," he said.

He retrieved another small vial from his pocket. This one didn't seem to contain a potion. The liquid inside was a familiar silvery shade, and swirled on its own. Memories. Snape's?

A shining ribbon streamed out of the vial and through the air, directed by Snape's wand. It became a circle, as large as the one Harrie had just traced with her blood, and Snape placed it just on the inside of the crimson line, where it remained there, a single ring of gleaming silver, reflecting light.

"You'll see my memories first," Snape said. "It will answer your questions, before you face him."

Harrie nodded, her gaze fixed on the double circle, red and silver. She turned toward everyone, smiled a brave smile. They had all come here for her. About half of them had bled for her. She couldn't fail them.

"Kick his noseless arse, Harrie," Fred said.

"You've got the nosefield advantage," George added. "You can't lose."

Neville audibly groaned at the pun, gave Harrie an encouraging smile.

"You'll do great, kid," Moody said gruffly.

Mr. Weasley was looking at her with a great deal of concern, his bushy eyebrows set in a heavy frown. Harrie realized the exact source of it when he glanced at Snape, then at Remus, disapproval flashing in his eyes, and while she appreciated his worry, and understood how it might look like from the outside, there was even less time for that.

Her gaze stopped on the Malfoys, who hadn't moved since she had entered the room. Lucius was standing with his back stiff, one hand on Narcissa's shoulder, while Narcissa was staring at the open doorway, her mouth set in a firm, grim line. She'd heard Snape say the spell. She knew her sister was dead.

As if sensing Harrie's eyes on her, she turned her head, and their gazes connected. She mouthed a word, two syllables, silent but infused with a mother's worry.

"Draco is okay," Harrie said. "Just Stunned outside Snape's room."

"I'll fetch him," Tonks said, moving toward the door.

"Harrie," Snape said, his voice strained. "You have to do it now."

"I know. One second."

She hugged Remus, fiercely. He didn't say anything, just hugged her back and kissed her forehead. She hugged Snape next, and he also kissed her forehead, and then kissed her properly, a harsh, ardent kiss.

"I love you," he said. "Come back to me."

"Always."

Nascent tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, she stepped into the circle. Both rings of blood flared, and magic lashed at her, binding around her. She surrendered to it. Went on her knees as well, turning toward Voldemort. Their eyes met, green to red. His smile was so wide it twisted his entire face, making him look even more monstrous than the usual.

She smiled back.

One last duel, and she'd be done with him. Finally.

Another pulse of magic coiled around her, banding tight against her ribs. It began to pulse, synced to her heartbeat, and she breathed at the same rapid pace, holding Voldemort's gaze. The pulsing sped up, her heartbeat following, until it seemed to her one long, continuous vibration, and then she was falling.

Falling, through a silver veil of memories, the edges of the gleaming circle rippling around her.

Just like in a Pensieve, she landed on her feet, dropped into a scene from the past. She stood in Snape's office, the room half-plunged in shadows, while the man himself sat at his desk, a scowl on his face.

"I've given her a safeword," he was saying, glaring. "What more do you want? Telling her to stay away is a lost cause, you're well aware of it, I expect. And seeing as you won't abstain from touching her, you're not in any position to come lecture me."

"We shouldn't be doing this to her," Remus replied.

He wore his shame like a shroud weighing on his head, much more visible than anything he had ever let Harrie see. She immediately got the urge to hug him.

"And yet we are."

"Are you telling me that you've no qualms at all, Severus? That fucking Harrie, fucking James' daughter, doesn't disturb you in the slightest?"

"I need no reminder of just who Potter is," Snape snarled. "Now, if you're quite done whinging, you can see yourself out."

And Remus left, shoulders slumped, his stride weary.

The scene dissolved, like ink poured in water, reformed. Still Snape's office, on another day. Both men looked much more tired. Snape's features were tighter than normal, his hair greasier, and Remus was leaning against a chair, dark circles under his eyes—it must have been just after the full moon.

"I love her," Remus said, quietly.

"Of course you do," Snape said with a scoff, aiming for mocking, falling short of it.

"You love her too, don't you?"

Snape's lips curled. His jaw bunched, and it looked like he was chewing on his words.

"I love... her cunt," he said after a moment.

"Do you think her cunt can handle knowing you love it?" Remus said.

"Definitely not. Potter can barely handle her own emotions."

"So we agree. We tell her nothing."

"Nothing at all," Snape said.

Remus held out his hand, and the men shook on that promise.

The scene changed again.

The Headmaster's office, this time. Snape was handing a piece of paper to Remus. Harrie read it diagonally, saw it was the list of the Horcruxes. Except there was one more line at the bottom.

7- Harrie, unintentional Horcrux created on October 31st, 1981

"Are you sure?" Remus said, his hand flexing on the paper.

"Yes."

He looked up at Snape, his face paling.

"So—"

"I have a plan for that. I'll need you to handle Horcruxes number 4 and 5. If you were to find this list in your robes' pocket later, with no memory of me handing it to you, what would you assume?"

"That Dumbledore found a way to get it to me."

"Excellent," Snape said. "The Ministry will fall tonight. I'll be leading the assault. The Dark Lord intends to take Potter as well. He'll send Death Eaters here. I'll have to lower the wards and allow them in. They'll expect Potter to be in the Gryffindor dormitory."

He paused, sent a meaningful look at Remus.

"She won't be," Remus said. "She'll be here, in your bedroom."

"Is that also what you would assume on your own?"

"Yes."

Snape nodded, then frowned.

"I'll have to tie her up so she doesn't wander on her own," he muttered, more to himself than for Remus.

He flicked his wrist, popping his wand into his right wand.

"You're aware of the emergency Floo on the fifth floor?"

"Yes," Remus said.

"And you have a place where to hide her?"

"The Order has multiple safehouses, many of which you have no knowledge of. I'll make use of a Fidelius."

"Everything is set, then."

Remus slipped the paper with the Horcruxes in one of his inside pockets.

"Do it," he said to Snape.

Snape pointed his wand at him.

"Obliviate."

The scene blurred, the scenery once more reforming around Harrie. Snape was digging through a drawer, in a familiar room at Grimmauld Place. His hand closed around the locket, and he slammed it down on the desk, pointed his wand at it. The snake's eyes glowed crimson, a low hiss echoing around the room, but the malevolent piece of Voldemort's soul contained in the locket was powerless in this state.

There was a flash of green light coming from Snape's wand, and the red gleam vanished, while the hissing cut off abruptly. Snape grabbed the locket, stuffed it in his pocket, turned on his heels and exited the room.

Another memory.

Hogwarts, this time, and Harrie's heart sped up as she recognized the owlery. Hedwig was sleeping on her perch, head tilted a bit to the side. Snape presented her with a bit of fresh meat, still bloody. The snowy owl came awake, snatched the meat from Snape's hand, and glared at him. He wisely did not say anything, and offered her another morsel.

Hedwig took that one too, her glare softening a bit. When Snape reached out to stroke her head with the back of one finger, she allowed the touch.

"I need you to go find Harrie," he said. "She's out of the Fidelius' influence. You can find her now."

Hedwig hooted, and looked at Snape's hand, either expecting more food, or something to carry.

"I don't have anything for you. Go find Harrie. Now!"

Hedwig pecked his finger, then flew off, flapping her wings as she rose into the sky. Snape grimaced at his half-mangled finger, which Hedwig had bitten hard.

"Bloody owl," he said. "As stubborn as your owner."

"Hey!" Harrie said, peeved at that, though the owlery was fading already.

And she was in Snape's room now, at Malfoy Manor. Her past self was talking with him.

"...I got your message," she was saying. "Received and understood. Really clever of you."

Snape smiled, briefly.

"Everything is on its way, I assume?"

"Yes," Past Harrie said. "You were right. I don't have to worry about anything."

He nodded, and drew his wand out.

"You understand I can't let you keep those memories. Voldemort will look into your mind, that much is certain. He can't see that I kept Wolfsbane in my desk. That's not something I could justify."

"Oh. Alright."

He raised his wand.

"Wait," Past Harrie said. "If you're going to erase this, can we do something first?"

"What?"

"Make love to me."

Harrie gasped, because she hadn't expected this from herself. Snape was already crossing the room, already kissing her past self, with a level of passion that was dizzying to witness. Did he really kiss her that hard? Did she really surge into him that desperately? Did it look like that every time, or was it a special case, brought on by her words?

They didn't stop kissing. She wrenched his belt open, fished out his cock, he yanked her trousers down, pushed her knickers to the side, and they didn't stop kissing, they never stopped, gasping into each other's mouth when he filled her. She grasped a tight handful of his hair with one hand, kept the other on the wall, and he fucked her like that, as she was braced against the window sill, their bodies interlocked, their mouths sliding against each other, their breaths mingling.

Harrie watched herself get pounded. She watched Snape ram into her with absolutely no mercy, the snaps of his hips a bruising, battering force, the lewd slap of flesh echoing in the room as they trembled together, straining toward a common goal, trading moans, and groans, and bites.

"Make love to me," she'd asked, and Snape was.

This what was his love looked like, this primal unleashing of passion.

If Remus' love was a calm field in summer, the grass rippling under a gentle breeze, while comforting words were whispered in her ear, then Snape's...

Snape's was a storm.

A fury of elements, raging winds, lashing rain, thunder.

A storm, just for her.

She came first, throwing her head back, letting out a hoarse cry, squirting hard all over him. He fucked her through her orgasm, rutting even faster, huffing deep grunts, and followed soon after, hilting himself deep and groaning as he pulsed inside her.

They kissed again while enjoying the afterglow. Harrie realized her past self was crying. Her flushed face was wet with tears, and Snape kissed them away, while murmuring soothing praises. She hung onto him, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

Eventually, they disentangled themselves from each other, fixed their clothes.

"Ready?" Snape asked.

"Yes."

He gently set his wand at her temple

"Obliviate."

The scene disappeared, and she was falling again. She left the spinning silver ring, dropping right into the crimson sea below. She felt the connection to Voldemort's mind like a jolt of electricity right at the base of her brain, whirled around as soon as she found herself in a corridor of Hogwarts, certain he'd be behind her.

He wasn't.

The corridor wavered, its edges flickering. It seemed to hesitate between two versions of itself, one with a rough stone floor and doors with a dark varnish, and the other whose floor boasted a beige carpet, and whose doors were a simple brown.

It was a mashup of her Hogwarts and his Hogwarts, the castle of the 1930s and the castle of the 1990s attempting to co-exist in the same place, each fighting for control.

She wouldn't have wanted any other place for her final fight against Voldemort.

Hogwarts. Her home.

Phantom students went past her, their silhouettes translucent, their speech unintelligible, and that too was familiar. The lifeblood of Hogwarts, generation after generation of young magical minds who had been educated in these halls, and had found friends, a purpose, a family, a home. She was fighting for them. For their future.

She thought of her wand, and instantly, it was there, in her hand.

Gripping the holly stick, she headed for the Great Hall.

There were more echoes of students here, seated at the large tables, standing in small groups, milling about, both from Voldemort's past and hers—the difference clearly visible in their uniforms and their hairstyles.

And he was there.

Waiting for her, seated in the Headmaster seat, lounging in the ornate chair.

As she stepped closer, his image flickered, and for a second there was someone else sitting in the chair. A younger Voldemort, with thick, dark hair, the same red eyes, and an identical smug expression. The Horcrux, brought forth by Snape's potion. When she'd defeat Voldemort, she'd defeat them both, freeing herself from the piece of his soul that she'd been carrying all these years.

"Harrie," Voldemort called out, smirking. "Finally, here you are. You took your time getting to me. I was starting to think I'd have to chase you down."

"Oh you know, just taking a little trip down Snape's memories. It's really hilarious how you got fooled, don't you think?"

His face hardened. His mouth slimmed to a barely visible line, and a little spasm made his jaw twitch. He got up, holding his bone-white wand in his spidery fingers.

"Do you know what will happen, Harrie?" he said, rounding the table to meet her. "I will win this duel of ours, and I will take over your mind. I'll leave my body behind, come live in yours. Everyone will think me dead, and you the victor, and when they expect it the least, I'll strike."

He smiled, red eyes flashing with mirth.

"I'll kill Severus first, I think. I'll break his heart, tell him I never loved him, and then while he's still reeling from that, I'll end him."

"You won't touch him," Harrie said, brandishing her wand. "He trapped you in my mind, and that's where you'll die."

He considered the point of her wand, and his smile widened, until it looked like the maw of some great beast.

"Harrie, Harrie... are you really expecting me to duel you?"

"Expelliarmus!" she shouted in answer.

He flicked his wand, deflecting her spell, then sent a violet bolt at her, so quickly she barely had time to raise her shield. The hex crashed into her blue barrier, and nearly at the same time, coming in on the next half-second, a second spell hit her from the side, having ricocheted off the wall. It struck her hand, perfectly angled, sending a searing, painful heat down her arm.

Her wand was ripped from her fingers before she fully understood what had happened. Then ropes snapped into existence around her wrists and ankles, forced her down on her knees, and brought her at Voldemort's feet.

"You're no match for me," he said, running the tip of his wand along her cheek in a mocking gesture.

She glared up at him.

His image flickered again, and it was a younger Voldemort who clicked his tongue at her, before the older one took over once more.

"There's only one thing you do well, Harrie... and it's taking cock."

He threw her a wicked grin, which made her stomach twist. She struggled against the ropes, yanking on her arms, bucking and thrashing. Voldemort taped his wand against her cheek, further mocking her efforts. The gesture was so similar to the way Snape had taped his cock against her cheek a few nights ago during the revel that she knew Voldemort was thinking about it.

Was contemplating making her suck his cock.

Around them, his version of Hogwarts was getting stronger, solidifying, while her Hogwarts was fading. She could feel the struggle, and the scales tipping in his favor.

She couldn't fight him on a magical terrain.

But she could fight him on a sexual terrain.

"You're right," she said, and she turned her head to give his wand a lick, as obscene as she could make it. "I'm such a slut."

His red gaze flared. With a flick of his wand, he moved her. She was slammed on her back upon the table, legs spread, hands above her head. Voldemort sliced her trousers open, ripped the fabric away with one more wave of his wand. Looming over her, he wore a triumphant smile on his lips.

"Will you be wet for me, Harrie?" he asked, long fingers caressing her cunt through her knickers.

"So I'm not too sullied after all?"

"This isn't real, my sweet little Horcrux," he said, yanking her knickers off. "And what better way to take possession of your body than by having you, right here, right now?"

He plunged two fingers inside her, in a rough stroke. Harrie winced at the feeling of his nails scraping her walls. Apparently the Dark Lord had never heard of a manicure.

"Go on, then. Fuck me," she goaded him, canting her hips into his touch.

She wasn't wet yet, but this wasn't real, and it was a fight, so of course she'd bleed. There'd be more pain, and she'd bear it.

"You'll regret those words," Voldemort hissed.

He opened his robes, tugged down his trousers, grinning at her as he showed her his cocks.

Plural.

He had two, one on top of the other, both very sizable, and both very erect.

"I will ruin you," Voldemort growled, stroking himself with a heavy hand, leering at her.

"Not really," Harrie returned. "I'm used to taking two cocks at once, and Snape's bigger than you."

With a snarl, Voldemort positioned himself over her. He set one cockhead at the entrance of her cunt, the other pressed against her arsehole, and he pushed in. Harrie relaxed. She knew this moment well, and her body needed to be pliant to accept two cocks at the same time.

Voldemort slid into her cunt, while also forcing his way into her arse. There was pleasure, there was pain, and above well, a considerable stretch. A spasm ran through her pelvis and then down her legs, both her holes contracting around the invasion. He pressed further, and further, sinking deeper, until he had hilted his twin cocks in her, one spearing her cunt, the other cramming her arse. She was full.

But she'd been fuller.

It wasn't her most intense sexual experience. Far from it.

"Is that all?" she said, clenching around him.

He groaned, withdrew halfway to surge back in with a hard thrust. God, it hurt. Yet she felt pleasure as well, faint whispers of it in her belly, and when he thrust again, they sparked higher.

"Come on, Tom, fuck me harder."

His serpentine face twisted with equal amounts of anger and lust. He gripped her hips, his sharp nails digging into her flesh, and set a rough pace. He was trying to use her, to hurt her, to dominate her the way he would in a wand fight, aiming to overwhelm her and secure her surrender that way. Both of his cocks filled her again and again, the loud slap of flesh on flesh ringing throughout the Great Hall.

"You're mine, little slut," he snarled.

The table was hard at her back, and she was being rammed into it with every thrust.

The ropes binding her ankles and her wrists chafed against her skin, burning her.

Voldemort's cocks forced her cunt and her arse open to an aching stretch, stroke after stroke.

Battle wounds, all of it.

"I've never been yours."

She rocked back into him, seeking more of his cocks, muscles straining. Voldemort's face shifted to his younger self for a couple of moments, and the Horcrux snapped his hips forward, groaning when he bottomed out. Harrie clenched down on his cocks, smiling in a wild baring of teeth.

Around them, Hogwarts was flickering between its two versions, equally now. She'd regained the ground she had lost, and she would gain more. She'd destroy him.

"You were mine from the moment I gave you that lightning scar," Voldemort said, his breath coming faster as he kept shoving in.

She squeezed her thighs around him—the ropes had fallen from her ankles—urging him deeper. Her cunt was slick, coating his cock on every stroke, while the pain in her arse lessened with every passing second, or perhaps she paid it less attention, and her mind followed suit.

A fire was building inside her, and she rode the flames, fierce beats of exhilaration accompanying each drive of Voldemort's cocks in her. He noticed her reaction, and hammered faster into her, his nails pricking her skin open where he was gripping her. She laughed.

"That's weak," she told him. "Remus fucked me when he was nearly a wolf, do you think you can do more savage than him? Or than Snape when he makes love to me?"

She bucked her hips, her chest rising with harsh breaths, grinning madly at him.

"You'll never match either of them."

He snarled, plunged viciously into her holes, yanking her on his cocks, and it was still so weak .

"Harder, come on!" she said.

Her hands were suddenly free. She surged up, grabbed his shoulders, panting right against his lips.

"And guess what? I would have fucked Remus as a wolf if he wanted me to. I would have taken both his wolf cock and Snape's in me, and I would have loved it!"

She took the lead, setting her rhythm now, bouncing on his cocks. His face was twisted in a horrible grimace, rage gleaming in those red eyes.

"And another thing," she said, "but I'm sure you've noticed by now."

She clawed at him, nails rending the fabric of his robes apart, reaching the flesh beneath, tearing at it, Basilisk venom dripping from her hands. He howled in pain, and she relished the sound.

"You're not fucking me."

Her nails dug deeper, leaving deep furrows in his pale skin, blood welling, bubbling as the venom seared into him.

"I'm fucking you."

She clenched her thighs harder, jerked herself down on his cocks faster, clawed at his face. A rough, deep growl left his chest, and he powered harder into her, as if that could still save him, as if the issue of this fight hadn't been clear from the very start.

She raked his throat with her nails, and his flesh bubbled and hissed as the venom attacked it. The next sound from his mouth was a gurgle. As she took his cocks to the hilt again, his outline began to lose substance, color leeching from him, while he felt less real against her.

In his eyes, she saw fear.

"You're going to come in me, and it will be the last thing you do," she said—a promise.

"No," he gasped, clawing at her in turn, his nails gouging her waist, his hips pumping forward jerkily. "No! I am in control here!"

They both knew it wasn't true. They were nearly in her Hogwarts alone now, his version only showing up in the barest of glimpses.

She ground against him, managed to get some friction on her clit, and in a rush of sensations, she reached her peak, body locking up around him, squeezing him mercilessly. His hips stuttered. His cocks swelled and twitched, and his face slackened as he came inside her, shooting his seed in both her cunt and arse.

She crowed in pleasure, riding her orgasm, riding him. He expelled one last gasp from his lungs, his eyes widening, disbelief creeping upon his features, even as he was slowly fading away. Green fumes rose from his body, the smell of acrid venom overpowering. In the end, he burned, like a slip of paper consumed by fire, gone without leaving any ashes behind.

Then Harrie was sitting alone on the table, in her Hogwarts.

Victorious.

She came out of the mindscape with a stifled gasp, on her hands and knees, her head spinning. Across from her, in the other circle, Voldemort was a crumpled mass of black robes.

"It's done," she said, bringing a hand to her mouth, wiping blood from her lips.

Remus entered the circle to check on Voldemort, while Snape was instantly at her side. He knelt near her, his wand aimed at her heart.

"Prove to me that you're really Harrie."

She kissed him. Kissed him like it was their first kiss, like it was their last kiss, like no one else mattered.

"Could Voldemort kiss you like this?" she said, breathless.

He sighed in relief, and helped her to her feet. She leaned against him, her gaze sweeping over everyone in the room.

"He's dead," Remus confirmed, voice streaked with grim satisfaction as he examined the results of the spell he'd cast over Voldemort.

"So it's really over?" Ron said.

Harrie smiled.

"Yeah. We did it."

"And now?" Hermione asked.

Now, Harrie had a future.

One she would share with both Severus and Remus.

"Can a witch have two husbands?" she said, suddenly very curious about that.

"Hold on a minute, Harrie, you can't be thinking of marrying either of them," Mr. Weasley said. "They're not—"

Bill put a hand on his arm.

"Dad, leave it for now."

"There'll be plenty of time to yell at us later," Remus said, ducking his head. "We should focus on clean-up for now. Those Death Eaters need to be secured for transport."

"We'll help," Draco said, from where he was standing with his parents.

Harrie sat on a chair Snape procured for her, and watched her friends deal with the last remnants of the war, while Remus proceeded to fuss over her various wounds. He borrowed dittany from Snape, applied it to her face and arms in careful touches.

"The answer is yes, by the way," Snape said in a low voice, only audible to them three. "A witch can have two husbands."

"Great. Expect a proposal in the future, then."

Remus spluttered, gave Harrie a panicked look.

"Make it a few years so Lupin can get used to the idea," Snape said.

"Don't you need to get used to the idea too?" she asked.

He settled a hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting.

"I already am."

"Mmmm," she said. "So am I."

Two husbands, and a future she'd thought she'd never have, now hers.

Chapter Text

"Dad! Dad, look!"

A flick of a wand, and sparks erupted from the tip, bright and white, a veritable shower of magic.

"Excellent, darling," Severus said. "I believe you've found your wand."

"Really?" Gemma said.

A wide smile lit up her impish face, the fading sparks reflected in her dark eyes, which were so similar to her father's.

"I could try others," she said, and looked at Harrie for guidance. "Maybe I'd get even more sparks with a different wand."

"That's the one," Harrie said, smiling at her. "The wand chooses the witch, you know. And this wand chose you."

Gemma ran a hand down the length of white wood, then gripped the wand with both hands, brandishing it as if it were heavy sword.

"Aspen, unicorn hair, eleven inches," Ollivander's niece said, with a brisk nod toward Gemma. "Rather bendy. Outstanding for charmwork."

"And in Defense?" Gemma asked.

She swished the wand around like she was slashing an invisible opponent, producing another burst of sparks.

"It will serve you well in all areas of magic," Ollivander's niece said.

"I know a lot of Defense spells," Gemma informed her, primly. "Daddy taught me everything he knows."

Remus had been giving her private lessons over the summer, because she was just so impatient to start school she wouldn't stop asking.

"Maybe I'll vanquish a troll like Mum did."

"This was not meant to be an example to emulate," Severus said, with a side-look at Harrie, like she was the one responsible for their daughter's adventurous spirit.

"Trolls are immune to most common spells," Gemma started to recite, "so I'll need to do it like you did, Mum, and make his club levitate. Then I'll drop it down on his head. That'd get him."

"There won't be any trolls at Hogwarts," Severus said.

"Well, you never know..." Harrie mused.

Another side-eye. Harrie smiled at her husband. He was past fifty now, and in recent years he'd developed a white streak in his hair, growing from his left temple and running down the length of his head. It gave him an additional air of gravitas, and played off his black hair and black eyes exceptionally well.

"No trolls," he said to Gemma, in his firm dad tone.

"Not even for my birthday?"

"If the Hat doesn't call out Gryffindor the moment it touches your head, I'll eat my wand," Severus said.

Ollivander's niece extended her hand, asking for Gemma's wand.

"I'll wrap it up for you," she said.

"Can't I keep it?"

"You'll get it on the first day of school, as we agreed," Severus said.

"But Dad—"

Severus was unmoved by her plea, so Gemma turned to Harrie, who was often far more lenient than him.

"Mum..."

"It's only in a week, sweetie," Harrie said. "And you wouldn't be allowed to cast spells anyway."

With a pout, Gemma handed off her wand.

They left the shop, and stepped into the busy streets of Diagon Alley. A crowd of wizards and witches swarmed under the afternoon sun, some accompanied by their children looking to buy school supplies, others on their own, perusing the various knick-knacks and wonders one could find here.

Summer was still in full force, the air sweltering and dry, especially with so many people around, so Harrie cast a Cooling Charm on all three of them as they headed down the street, Gemma sandwiched between them.

A light, pleasant breeze hit them when they entered Madam Malkin's, the shop enchanted to offer a cool and calm atmosphere to its patrons. They were greeted by a shop assistant who served them tea and an assortment of biscuits, before Madam Malkin herself came to meet them.

"Ah, young Miss Potter-Snape," she said with a sly smile toward Gemma. "Here for your school robes, then."

She made Gemma stand on a stool, and gossiped as she worked, like always.

"The younger Malfoy boy was here just earlier... He'll join his brother Scorpius in Slytherin, that boy, mark my words. Ah, but poor Astoria was looking rather frail. All this heat, I'm afraid... Have you kept close to the Malfoys at all?"

"Moderately," Harrie said.

She had testified to keep them out of Azkaban, and Severus had rekindled his friendship with Lucius and Narcissa, Harrie tagging along for those social visits, though Remus always stayed at home. More recently, Hermione and Ron's daughter had struck a friendship with Scorpius, and the two kids had gone over to each other's house over the summer.

"But of course you're much closer to the Weasleys... I was rather surprised to see Mrs. Granger-Weasley is expecting again! Though it's true that the Weasleys have always had lots of children. Perhaps they won't even stop at three..."

She gave a flick of her wand, and the black robes Gemma had on tightened around her frame, the fabric adjusting itself.

"And yourself? Are you planning for a third at all?"

Harrie exchanged a glance with Severus.

"We've been thinking about it," she said.

"Oh really?" Madam Malkin said, her head snapping up, her nostrils flaring, looking every bit like a shark suddenly sensing blood—or a delicious rumor.

"There's nothing decided at this point in time," Severus said.

"I want a baby brother," Gemma said.

"You already have one."

"I want another one."

Madam Malkin smiled, and made further comments on the general state of the wizarding world, and the baby boom that had followed the end of the war. Harrie had waited a few years before they tried for a baby. Gemma was eleven now, and Elias was nine. She felt ready for a third kid.

Madam Malkin would be tattling to her next customer, and the rumor would spread like wildfire. 'Oh, have you heard the latest? The Potter-Snape-Lupins are having a third child.' Maybe the Prophet would run a piece on that, in third or fourth page. It was all fine. Harrie was no longer bothered by how she was perceived publicly. And anyway, her reputation was stellar these days, even if her name had been smeared in the papers right after Voldemort's defeat.

Now, as they walked down Diagon Alley, they turned some heads, but the majority of people were used to her romantic situation, and didn't care. They did care about her fame, though. Even twenty years after, that hadn't waned. Harrie was stopped several times and asked for an autograph, which she provided quickly, exchanging a few words with the person.

She was also stopped two times by concerned parents who wanted to discuss how their child was doing in her class. Muggles Studies used to be seen as an unimportant class, but since Harrie had been teaching it, it had gained some prestige, and so Harrie spent some time chatting with two mothers of Pure-blood families.

Severus had let Gemma peek at various shop windows while Harrie was busy, and when she joined them, Gemma was pointing excitedly at something.

"Mum, look! They're selling a solid gold cauldron!"

Severus was glaring daggers at the offending instrument, looking like he was considering marching in there and giving the shopkeeper a lengthy lecture on cauldron quality and why gold was a terrible, terrible choice.

"Oh yeah," Harrie said. "I wanted the same one at your age. Hagrid didn't let me get one."

"Dad..."

"No," Severus bit out. "Absolutely not. I'll buy you a broom before I'd let you even entertain the thought of buying that monstrosity."

"A broom?"

"We said second year for the broom," Harrie reminded her gently.

"But you got one in your first year!"

"Your mother was a rule breaker from the start," Severus said. "Again, not an example to follow."

Gemma wore her disappointed face for a while, then quickly forgot about it once they entered the pet shop.

"A reasonable one!" Severus called after her as she rushed in. "No baby dragon!"

"They don't sell baby dragons," Harrie said.

"She'd find one anyway."

Gemma came back with a Pigmy Puff. The fluffy little ball was nestled in her arms, nuzzling into her chest, making soft, happy sounds. It was also very pink.

"This is Mister Fluffles," she said, stroking the back of the creature.

It squeaked, and suddenly fluffed up, more than tripling in size, its fur exploding into a round, fuzzy ball.

"So cute!" Gemma cooed.

She lifted hopeful eyes toward Severus, knowing he was the one she had to convince.

"Dad, can I have him? Please, please? I know the list said we could only bring a cat, a toad, or an owl, but Rose's got a Pigmy Puff and it sleeps with her in the dormitory, so it's allowed even if it's not on the list."

"Of course you can have him."

He reached out and ruffled her hair. She smiled, gave a kiss to Mister Fluffles' head, hidden in all that voluminous fur. The Pigmy Puff started purring, climbed onto her shoulders, and settled near her throat for a nap.

They bought food for Mister Fluffles, as well as a booklet about the care of Pigmy Puffs. It was co-authored by Fred and George, since they had created the species. Gemma was adamant she already knew everything there was to know, and that Rose could give her tips.

"You'll be best friends with Squeaky," she informed a sleeping Mister Fluffles.

Harrie made her promise she'd read the booklet anyway.

They threaded their way through the crowded streets once more, and met up Remus and Elias, who were eating ice cream at Florean Fortescue's, seated outside on a bench.

"There's my little girl," Remus said with a smile, which only widened when he spotted the Pigmy Puff snoring on Gemma's shoulder. "Oh, hello you. I thought you said you wanted a cat?"

"Mister Fluffles is better than a cat," Gemma said.

Elias blinked large brown eyes at the creature, seemingly so transfixed he forgot about his ice cream for a moment.

"Can I pet him?" he asked.

"No. You'll wake him."

"Mum, can I pet him?"

"Once he's awake, sweetheart. Pigmy Puffs need a lot of sleep."

"Okay..." he said, a bit disgruntled.

He looked remarkably similar to Remus with his nose all scrunched up like that. While Gemma had gotten Harrie's general facial features, and her hair, Elias had inherited nearly everything from Remus. The only sign Harrie was his mother was that little tuft of hair that refused to lay flat, sticking up near his forehead.

Harrie told Remus about Gemma's wand while Severus went inside to get ice creams for them. They sat down, and enjoyed a frozen treat. Gemma offered her ice cream to Mister Fluffles, who woke up and licked the vanilla ice cream with his long tongue, purring harder.

"They love sugar," Gemma said, giggling. "And it's good for them!"

"Wretched creatures," Severus commented.

"What does 'wretched' mean?" Elias asked, eyes narrowed.

"It means your father already loves Mister Fluffles a lot," Harrie said. "Calling anyone 'wretched' is how he shows affection."

Severus flashed her a sharp smile. On Gemma's shoulder, the Pigmy Puff yawned, then nuzzled her cheek. She quickly motioned for Elias to come closer, and showed him how to pet the small creature so he enjoyed it. He seemed to love scratches behind his ears.

"I wish I could come to class with you," Elia said, the bite of envy turning his tone sour.

"We'll still see each other a lot. I'll just be sleeping in my House dormitory. I'll tell you all about my troll-slaying adventures at breakfast, promise."

Remus set a hand on Elias' back.

"You only have two more years to wait," he told him.

"I know, Dad. I can count."

"And you'll get a wand, and a Pigmy Puff," Gemma said.

"I don't want a Pigmy Puff! I'll get an owl. Or a snake."

"You can't get a snake. That's not allowed."

"Mum will make it allowed," Elias retorted.

"Why do you even want a snake? You can't pet a snake. And you have to feed them live mice."

They squabbled about what the best pet was, and Harrie ate her ice cream and enjoyed the moment. A day out in Diagon Alley, with her two husbands and her two children, perfect in every way.

Eventually, they got up to head back home. Severus kissed her, because he could, and because he was much more affectionate now that their relationship was no longer a secret. He kissed her all the time, whether it was quick pecks on her cheek or thorough, knickers-dampening kisses.

This kiss was a very chaste one. Gemma still covered Mister Fluffles' eyes.

"Don't look. It's adult stuff."

They walked to a more isolated spot specifically reserved for Apparitions, waited until the previous family had cleared the space. They all linked hands, and Severus took them away in a swift Side-Along Apparition.

It was raining when they landed, the sky partly clouded, a light drizzle coming down. Their summer house stood a few miles inland, on the South Coast, close to a charming little wizarding village. They stayed there over the holidays, and lived at Hogwarts during the school year.

As they entered the house, an owl flew in with them, carrying a letter. He dropped it into Severus' hands, then took off again with a low hoot.

"From Minerva," Severus said, perusing the letter. "Ah, of course. Like every year," he said, and handed off the letter to Remus.

"The Board made last minute changes to the curriculum," Remus said as he read. "Potions only... no, Defense as well. Nothing on Muggle Studies."

"As always, I'm spared," Harrie said, shrugging. "No one cares about the content of my classes. I could teach those kids anything."

"Is it bad?" Gemma asked, looking at all three of them with a confused expression.

"The usual hand-wringing about teaching the students too many advanced spells and potions," Remus said. "Things they deem too dark."

"But you don't teach dark magic," Gemma said.

"We don't, sweetie, but some see it differently."

"Don't worry," Harrie said, smiling at her daughter. "Your dads will handle it. They always do."

"I'll fire off a quick note to Minerva," Remus said.

McGonagall had been the Headmistress since Severus has resigned from the post, a few days after Voldemort's defeat. In the same time frame, Dumbledore had recovered from the poison, and had immediately announced his retirement. Harrie had seen him a few times in the years after the war, at galas and various official events. She'd been coldly polite towards him, while he'd been his normal self.

He had made it clear he understood Severus' actions, and held no grudge. That wasn't the case at all for Severus, who had never forgiven him for his willingness to sacrifice Harrie's life. Remus likewise had only contempt for the old wizard. Every time Dumbledore had been in Harrie's vicinity, he had found himself the target of a double glare from her husbands, and these days, he made himself very scarce.

He had sent a couple of presents when the kids had been born, which Harrie had kept since they were well-chosen, but he no longer had any involvement in her personal life. She had returned the subsequent presents received for the kids' birthdays, stating in no uncertain terms that her children didn't need another grandfather. The presents had stopped around Gemma's sixth birthday. The kids had only seen Dumbledore from afar, and that was exactly how Harrie wanted it.

Sometimes, while they were making love and Severus was in the heat of the moment, he still offered to kill him. That usually made Harrie and Remus come very quickly.

The sun dipped toward the horizon, the rain worsening as evening arrived. They ate dinner, a coconut-lime chicken with fried rice and garlic bread, which the kids devoured. Severus did most of the cooking, though Harrie and Remus stepped in as well for less elaborate meals.

They spent the evening playing Monopoly. Severus won, after making a secret alliance with Gemma. Then it was time for the kids to head to bed.

Gemma brought Mister Fluffles in bed with her, and the Pigmy Puff nestled in the crook of her throat, purring loudly. Harrie kissed her goodnight, did the same for Elias. She warded both their doors, as she did every night, even though the war was long over and her life hadn't been threatened since then. She still needed to make sure her babies were safe, for her own peace of mind.

In the kitchen, Remus and Severus were talking. Remus liked to have a warm glass of milk in the evening, and he prepared one for Harrie too, who had adopted the same habit. Severus drank coffee, even at nine o'clock in the evening, because his body did not answer to the limits of mere mortals.

From the way they looked at her when she entered the room, she could tell what they'd been talking about. She had brought up the subject about a month ago, because she felt ready for it. And she wanted it.

A third kid.

Severus and Remus had said they shouldn't take that decision hastily, and they'd talked about it, here and there, often in the evenings when the kids were asleep. In Harrie's eyes, there was really no reason not to do it. They were all making a very decent living, they had stable jobs, and while there currently wasn't a fourth bedroom in the house, it could be fixed quickly with a little magic.

"Talking about expanding the family?" she teased them.

"We were," Remus said, offering her a warm mug of milk.

"You haven't changed your mind," Severus said, which wasn't really a question.

"I want us to be six," she said.

"But we are. Or are you not counting Mister Fluffles as part of our family?"

She snorted.

"Seven, then. Very sorry I forgot Mister Fluffles."

"I promise I won't tell Gemma."

She smiled, savoring her milk. Remus had added a dash of cinnamon to it, just the way she liked it.

"We've landed on a yes," Severus said. "Both of us."

"I knew you would," she said, grinning at both her husbands. "Alright, so what did you decide?"

They had used magic for Gemma and Elias, to make sure Gemma was Severus' and Elias Remus'. She had made clear she didn't have any preference when it came to the father of a potential third child. She loved Severus and Remus equally, and couldn't choose anyway, so she had told them to work it out between them.

They exchanged a look, and she recognized it as the secretive look they sometimes shared when they were planning a surprise for her. She had learned to recognize it over the years.

"What is it?"

"Tell her," Remus said.

Severus looked at her from over the rim of his coffee cup, his black eyes gleaming.

"A contest," he said. "We both stop using contraception spells, we both come inside you, and we leave it to chance this time. The best man gets you pregnant."

"That's unexpectedly hot," she said, her belly clenching in anticipation.

"It's Severus' idea," Remus said.

Harrie drew her wand out, cast a quick spell. Blue light flashed at the end of the holly stick.

"Hey look, I'm right in my most fertile period."

"Shall we retire to the bedroom?" Severus said.

"Yes, let's," Remus agreed. "It's been a long day. We should treat our wife, Severus."

They started by giving her a massage. Harrie sat on the bed, which was large enough for the three of them, and Remus kneaded the muscles of her shoulders while Severus took care of her legs. Their expert hands brought her to a state of complete relaxation, until she was leaning back into Remus, eyes closed, moaning her appreciation.

Severus' hands ventured further up, sliding under her skirt, reaching her inner thighs. He caressed the sensitive skin there, drawing closer to her knickers. His fingertips brushed across the fabric, and he smirked, his eyes darkening with lust.

"It would appear our wife is already dripping wet," he said, shifting from a feathery touch to a heavy drag over her clothed cunt.

"I wonder what triggered it..." Remus said. "Was it something we said, Harrie? Something we did?"

He licked at her ear on the last word, and she moaned, her cunt pulsing with a liquid jolt of heat.

"Something we did," Remus said, triumphant.

He smoothed his thumb over the hollows of her shoulders, then slipped his hands lower, and cupped both her breasts, in a firm, bold motion. He kneaded the globes of flesh, pinching her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index. Harrie arched her back, legs spreading on their own.

Severus took the invitation and slipped two fingers into her knickers and inside her, humming at how soaked he found her. He pumped his digits, slow, gliding so easily through her slickness, putting pressure on her g-spot with every inward stroke. Remus sucked at her throat, and between the stimulation of her nipples, his hot tongue laving at her pulse, and Snape's fingers filling her cunt, her body quickly began to thrum with needy heat.

Severus was smirking at her, and as always his intense focus added to her arousal, while Remus' tenderness made her melt. Hard, strong drives inside her cunt, impaling her, versus soft, cradling motions on her breasts, and the contrast had her squirming and moaning, already close in a matter of minutes.

"I can feel your cunt tightening," Severus growled, the low rumble of his words washing over her. "Are you about to squirt on my hand?"

"Sounds like she is," Remus said, and he pinched her nipples, chuckling when Harrie keened.

"Wait," she said, squirming again. "I don't—I—oh, wait, ah—want... want to suck you off first."

Severus raised an eyebrow. The maddening stimulation he was inflicting on her halted, and speaking became much easier.

"I want to come with your cocks in my mouth."

"Aren't you naughty tonight," Severus said.

He removed his fingers from her, while Remus kept caressing her breasts.

"Wanting us to spill in your mouth first," Severus mused, pushing his slick fingers between her lips.

He watched her suck on them, twirling her tongue around them, her lips tightly sealed over his knuckles.

"Mouth, then cunt?" Remus murmured, with a hot swipe of his tongue at her throat. "Is that what you want, Harrie?"

"Mmmm-mmm."

"Get on your knees, slut," Severus said.

He still called her a slut, and she was still unbelievably aroused by it. Remus joined in, sometimes, mostly around the full moon. He'd started one day when he was fucking her alone, catching her between two classes and dragging her into his office. He had thrown her down onto his desk, had rammed in from behind, stretching her cunt with his thick cock, and as Harrie was hanging on to the edge, he had jerked her head back and had snarled the word in her ear. Slut. She had come immediately, so turned on by the novelty, and Remus had emptied himself inside her barely two thrusts later.

"Are you sure you can take us both in your mouth, Harrie?" Remus asked now as he was undoing his belt. "I have my doubts."

She'd only done it a thousand times before.

"Can," she said, dropping to her knees.

"Well, if you're sure..." Severus said.

He lowered his trousers, wrapped a hand around his erection, lazily stroking himself. Remus shuffled close, doing the same. They stood side by side, both working a hand on their cocks, and both looking down at her.

They didn't love each other the way she loved them and they loved her, but they had grown from grudging mutual respect to an actual friendship over the years. They also didn't shy away from rubbing their cocks together when they were in one of her holes.

She closed one hand around each cock, moved the tight circle of her fingers up and down their shafts, adding a twisting motion at the end, slicking her palm against their leaking cockheads. After a few languid pumps, she added her mouth, lapping at the tips, in small, quick swipes of her tongue.

They both tasted the same like this, musky and male. Remus was producing more pre-cum, and breathing harder than Severus, as usual. Severus exhibited much more control, and liked to pretend whatever Harrie was doing had no effect on him—up to a certain point. Harrie enjoyed bringing him to that point, making him fall apart.

She licked down their shafts, alternating, using her hand on the cock she wasn't sucking.

"That's it, slut," Severus said, slowly thrusting into her fist while she was mouthing along Remus' cock. "Take care of us with that hot little tongue."

She slipped Remus' cockhead into her mouth, smiling at Severus, thumbing the fat head of his prick, which almost made them groan at the same time. That was one of her favorite thing: the double groan. Even better was the double orgasm, when she made them both spill at the same moment, whether it was inside her or on her. That one was rare, though.

"One cock isn't enough for you, is it, Harrie?" Remus said, his breathing shallow. "You need both. We have such a greedy wife..."

Oh, she was. And while she loved being fucked by only one of them, which happened fairly regularly, the threesomes were always a special experience, and she always came the hardest when stuffed full of their cocks.

She kept licking them until they were completely slathered in saliva, then she used both her hands, bringing their cocks together and sort of stroking them against each other. The sight made her cunt throb. All that thickness would soon go inside her.

"Take them," Severus said, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pushing her head down.

She opened her mouth wide, sliding their thick, heavy lengths in. Her lips went taut, her poor jaw straining. She could barely fit half of them both into her mouth. Bobbing her head, she took as much as she could, drooling on their cocks, grinding her thighs together.

The bedroom filled with slick, sloppy sounds. Double blowjobs were always messy. Saliva accumulated fast in her mouth, mixing with pre-cum, and spit dribbled down her chin. Sometimes one cock popped out, as Severus and Remus couldn't keep themselves from thrusting in, and she had to slip it back in, making even more of a mess.

At the moment, they were holding still, both throbbing on her tongue, so hard. She ran her hands down their lengths, and cupped their balls, gently playing with them. Remus swore, his face spasming. Severus bared his teeth, his fingers flexing in her hair.

"Mmm, good slut. You'll get exactly what you want, Harrie. A double load of cum on your pretty tongue."

She moaned around them, stuffed her mouth an inch fuller, the heat in her cunt spiking accordingly. Remus inhaled sharply. She felt his sack draw up, twitch, and then he was spurting in her mouth. She swallowed, greedily, loving every drop, her tongue rubbing against their cocks.

Remus pulled his softening prick from her mouth, knelt down, and thrust two fingers into her cunt. She emitted a muffled groan, would have wobbled if not for Severus' grip in her hair.

"Go on," he said to Remus. "Make our wife come while I fill her mouth with more cum."

Remus was never averse to taking orders from Severus. One time, he had fucked Harrie while Severus directed his every move, down to coming inside her when Severus had commanded him to. And then Severus had fucked Harrie's mouth while Remus watched.

"Are you ready to swallow again, Harrie?" Remus asked, angling his fingers perfectly, pushing them into her with long strokes.

He massaged the sensitive spot at the front of her cunt in strong motions while Severus drove his cock deep, gagging her with it. She grunted, clamping down on Remus' fingers, a hot band of pressure wrapping around her pelvis, and she teetered on the edge of ecstasy, holding herself back, wanting Severus to come first. He was just as close as her, hand clutched tight in her hair, face painted with lust, cock ready to burst.

"Aaah," he groaned. "Come on... Let go. Let—fuuuck—"

She had sucked powerfully, palming his balls at the same time, and that broke him. He cursed as he came, shooting four thick jets of cum at the back of her throat. She swallowed, crested, an electrical current lighting up her nerves, her walls fluttering madly around Remus' fingers. He praised her while her brain lit up with a burst of sensations, and then caught her when she slumped forward, panting.

"Mmm," she said, licking the cum from her lips. "Yeah. Nice."

"Good girl," Severus purred, kneeling down to kiss her.

She licked into his mouth, kissed Remus just after, sucking on his tongue.

They moved to the bed.

Harrie undressed as both her husbands watched. She peeled off her clothes slowly, making it a show, palming her revealed curves, spreading her legs so they could admire the glistening pink of her cunt. Wizards aged much more gracefully than Muggles, so even though they were both over fifty, it didn't take them long to be ready for the next round.

"We should get our cum where it's supposed to be," Severus said, grabbing her by the hips and flipping her around, on her hands and knees.

"And where's that?" she teased, reaching behind her to stroke his cock.

"In that lovely cunt of yours, wife."

Remus settled down his back, his erection jutting up, and Harrie crawled on top of him. Two pairs of hands caressed her body, Severus crowding close from behind, Remus reaching up to palm her breasts. Severus skimmed the stretch marks on her belly, murmuring hot words in her ear as he worshipped her curves, telling her how beautiful she looked, and how lucky they were to be her husbands, both of them.

It was her favorite position, riding Remus with Severus at her back, and then getting both their cocks in her cunt. They did that most often, though they switched things up from time to time, each man getting a hole, or she took one of them in her cunt while she was sucking off the other. Sometimes they were both in her arse, and Harrie had trouble sitting right for a couple of days afterward.

With a smile, she grabbed Remus' shaft, eased him inside her. He groaned as she took him to the root, his nostrils flaring. She rocked up and down, at a steady pace, enjoying the drag of his hard cock along her walls and the way he stretched her already. He stroked her breasts, gently thrusting up.

"How does he feel?" Severus said, his lips at her ears. "Does he fill you up nicely?"

"Yes..."

His hands were roaming over her, sliding down her spine, kneading her arse, smoothing lower, to her thighs, eliciting shivery waves of goosebumps everywhere.

"And do you have enough?"

"No..."

"No," he repeated, one hand skimming her belly, plunging between her spread thighs. "You're a hungry little slut, with an insatiable cunt."

He toyed with her clit, spreading her own slick up and down the sensitive nub, and her thighs quaked as she moved up and down, riding Remus. Her breath grew short. She tried to keep a slow pace, moaning each time Remus' cockhead nestled against her cervix, where he would soon come, flooding her with his seed.

His potent seed.

No contraception this time.

Severus' tongue was tracing the shell of her ear, while his hand worked on her clit, building her pleasure that much faster. There was additional pressure in her cunt when he slipped a finger in alongside Remus' cock, stretching her further. She let out a warbling keen, ground down harder, heat gathering hot and heavy in her lower belly.

"More?" Severus said.

"Please..."

He forced in a second finger, still teasing her clit, and her cunt clenched, spurting out a gush of slick fluid. Remus growled, thrusting faster, matching Severus' pace, both of them working together to drive her crazy. She gasped, her entire body trembling. Remus pinched her nipples, pushed his cock into her sharply, and Severus did the same with his fingers, biting her ear at the same time.

"Come on his cock. Do it."

"Ah, ah, mmm—"

"No," he said, guessing what she meant, somehow. "You don't get my cock until you've squirted all over Remus. Now do it."

His fingers swirled on her clit, rolling it hard, wrenching her climax from her belly. She stiffened, then cried out, convulsing, drenching Remus' cock and Severus' hand in a messy rush of slickness.

"That's a good slut," Severus said. "So good for us..."

He gripped her hips, moved her on top of Remus, impaling her cunt on his throbbing shaft as she shuddered through the rest of her orgasm. Her thoughts were dissolving, and she certainly couldn't keep riding Remus, her muscles locked in pleasure, but Severus took over, imparting a harder pace. Through her half-open eyes, she saw Remus watch her, lips curled in a possessive snarl. He was holding still, allowing Severus to bounce her on his cock.

Severus only stopped once Harrie had gone completely limp. He pushed her down onto Remus' chest, one hand at her back, and positioned himself behind her. Harrie smiled, brain fuzzy with sated heat. She smiled when Remus kissed her, too, and she smiled when she felt Severus start to push inside her.

He entered her in a slow advance, the flared head of his cock slicking its way into her. Her cunt tightened instinctively, hugging their shafts. She was so wet there was no need for a lubrication charm. Remus tensed under her, a groan vibrating in his chest when Severus, at last, hilted himself.

She could take them both fully, and it felt absolutely filthy to be split open on their cocks, oh yes.

"Fuck me," she said, the two words a rasp. "Come in me... Breed me..."

They moved in small thrusts at first, gently spearing her cunt, until they found their rhythm, a seesawing motion, one man in and one man out, and then vice versa. She whined continuously, encouraging them to go faster, to both bottom out inside her and press their cockheads at the end of her channel, to pulse cum there.

"Breed me," she said again, squirming in desperate little twitches.

They took their time. Remus held her hips, keeping her pinned, and Severus had one hand at her nape, making doubly sure she couldn't go anywhere. She had to stay there, caught between them, and take their cocks the way they wanted her to take them.

"We're both going to breed that tight cunt," Severus said, surging in, his hips smacking into her arse. "You'll get a load of cum, and then another."

He slipped a hand under her stomach, splayed his fingers over her skin.

"You'll grow heavy with my child..."

"Or my child," Remus grunted, thrusting deep on his turn.

"And those..." Severus said, cupping her breasts one after the other. "They'll swell up a size, and then they'll produce milk..."

Harrie let out stuttered, guttural sounds to the tempo of their driving cocks, her mouth open, her cunt getting wrecked just the way she liked it. They switched up their pace, fucking her with longer thrusts, now both surging into her at the same time, their hips snapping in sharp jerks, filling her with vulgar noises, loud slaps of flesh that echoed obscenely in her ears.

She started sobbing from how good it was, from that sweet, aching stretch, that solid pressure on her walls. Her clit was so sensitive, smashed somewhere against Remus' groin, getting bursts of friction whenever he moved, shooting white heat straight into her cunt.

She sobbed, and she babbled, and she begged for more.

Begged for them to come in her.

"Plea—ah, please! Come in me, nnnnhh—

"Mmm, you're getting so tight," Remus said, his hands digging harder at her hips.

Severus exhaled roughly near her ear, his body draped over her, filling her with another push.

"What a filthy little slut, wanting to be bred by her husbands..."

He ground into her, his cock hilted so deep in her, cockhead scraping at her cervix. Remus did the same, a low snarl spilling from his mouth.

"You'll take it, Harrie," he groaned.

"Oh yes," Severus said. "Two hot loads into that cunt. Right here, mmm..."

His hips gyrated against her arse, his cock sliding against Remus' inside her, both thick shafts throbbing, spreading her cunt wide open.

"Filling you with so much cum it will leak out..."

She groaned, her breath hitching, clenching down on both of them, quaking between their two hard bodies. The spasms of her cunt milked their cocks, massaging every inch, as she squirted over them both, elation streaking in her veins.

"Yes," Severus hissed, "ah, there it comes—fuck—"

Remus let out a growl, his eyes flashing. Both cocks swelled inside her, pulsing hot jets of cum right against her cervix, painting her walls white.

"Ah..." Harrie moaned.

Finally, she was getting filled with their seed. Spurts and spurts of cum, flooding her with wet warmth, breeding her properly. So much of it, seeping out, running down both cocks plugging her cunt. Her body kept spasming, hungry for every drop, wanting it all.

Remus and Severus stayed inside her until their cocks stopped twitching, and then gently slipped out of her. Some cum sloshed out of her. She squeezed her thighs, wanting to keep it all in her cunt.

Closing her her eyes, she nuzzled into Remus' chest. He was heaving rapidly, just like Severus, and just like her.

"Satisfied, wife?" Severus asked, still leaned over her, depositing a kiss at the base of her throat.

"Mmm, so much..."

"We'll have to do that again tomorrow," Remus said, threading his fingers through her hair. "Until you're pregnant."

"More breeding sessions," Harrie sighed, utterly content.

"Oh yes," Severus said.

Remus shifted to lie on his side, wrapping Harrie in her arms, while Severus completed the cuddle from behind. They shared sleepy kisses with her, taking their turns.

Eventually, Harrie fell asleep in the middle of the three-way cuddle, as she had for the past twenty years, and as she would for many, many years to come.