Blind Love
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
15,116
Reviews:
51
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
15,116
Reviews:
51
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Blind Love
BLIND LOVE by ObedientLittleCat
I know I shouldn't be starting other stories when I still haven't finished others…but this one has been in my head for months! If you've read The List, I am going to update it, I promise! I've nearly finished the second chapter but I left it on my computer at uni over Christmas. Have this story instead.
DISCLAIMER: These characters, etc. are not mine - they belong to JKR! I'll put them back when I've finished with them, promise!
Summary:
"Severus, my most faithful servant…When I am victorious, what will my most faithful servant ask from me in return for years of faithful service?"
The reply: "Harry Potter."
A/N: The story is that Snape wants Harry to pretend to be his slave if Voldemort wins so that they can live in Voldemort's castle and secretly plan how to defeat him. He plans to PRETEND to use a spell called Blind Love on Harry which would make him only aware of his Master (Snape) and, so, seemingly harmless to Voldemort. Things do not turn out to be so simple, however.
I hope you like this - it's very SLASH, especially when Harry thinks about Snape (the slash is Snape/Harry, obviously) so if you don't like, don't read - you have been warned! :-)
I should just like to add that the name Caecus Amora (the Blind Love spell) I got from one of them English to Latin translator things. I know it's probably rubbish latin, but I don't care; it sounds good. If you know latin, just go with it and don't be cross!
CHAPTER 1
"Severus, my most faithful servant…" stretching out one thin, graceful grey hand and beckoning gently.
"Yes, My Lord?"
Instantly kneeling before him, dark head bowed.
"When I am victorious, and Harry Potter no more than a memory, what will my most faithful servant ask from me in return?"
"I beg your pardon, My Lord?"
"What shall your reward be, Severus, for all these years of loyal service? You may ask for anything. Your deepest desire. And I shall give it to you."
There was a short, very awkward pause.
"Don't be shy, Severus."
"I am not, My Lord…it is merely…I do not feel my request would please you."
"Tell me."
Very quietly. "Harry Potter."
"Pardon, Severus?"
Clearing his throat and taking a fortifying breath: "Harry Potter."
"You want me to give you Harry Potter? The one who has plagued my life for sixteen years? And what, pray, would my most trusted servant do with said Harry Potter if I were to make that tremendous self-sacrifice?"
"I…I have found a spell, My Lord…it…it is called Caecus Amora. Have you heard of it?"
"Blind Love - why yes, Severus, I have heard of it… You would use this on Harry Potter?"
"Yes, My Lord…"
"But…why?"
"I have…a lingering…fascination with him."
"I hear he has grown up into an attractive young man."
"Exactly, My Lord."
"One which you wish to possess yourself?"
"I…I do."
"A fitting end to the Boy-Who-Lived - to be enslaved by and spend the rest of his life devoted to one of the men he hates the most."
"I think so also, My Lord."
"You do appreciate the great sacrifice it will mean on my part - refraining from taking my revenge upon him after sixteen years?"
"I would not ask it if I did not believe you to be eternally generous, My Lord."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Severus. Very well - I did promise you anything. Once we have the brat kneeling at my feet, with my wand pressed against his throat and I am satisfied that I would have killed him had I wished it, he will be yours."
"Thank you, My Lord."
HARRY'S POV
Mmm... He's writing. He's using the red ink, so he must be marking. I'd love to be his quill, or the ink well, or that poor piece of abused parchment, or his desk - if he was my lover I would kneel before his chair and let him use my bare back as a surface to rest his marking on. He could balance that red ink well on the back of my neck - I'd stay so very still. And if he wanted to put down his quill, he could reach round and place it in my open mouth and I'd hold it for him. Or he could slip it in between the cheeks of my arse. Yes, I'd be completely naked for him, always. And he'd trust me. He'd trust me to stay so still and not spill his ink even when that feather was tickling my arse because he'd know…how much I loved him.
Hours would pass, and my knees would ache and my body would freeze from kneeling on the cold stone floor, even if I was in front of a lit and quietly crackling fire, and my neck would cramp from staying so still such an awkward position for so long. And his marking would seem to go on and on, a pile of graded parchments accumulating by my right side…
Until, finally, he would be finished.
He would lift the ink well out of the crook of my neck and screw the lid back on, lay down his quill, neatly shuffle the parchments…and I would hand him a cold glass of wine - which I had charmed earlier so that it would stay cold until he wanted it. Red wine - I wonder if he likes red wine? And I would kneel there and listen to the sounds of him gracefully sipping it, my face too hot from the fire and my back too cold, until he would set his glass down on a little circular table to his left and then… I would finally feel his hands on my skin. He would stroke me - my shoulders, my back, my waist, my hips - he would reach down and run his elegant fingers over the curves of my arse. Then he would gently place those hands on my shoulders and painful neck and he would give me a massage. With cream - he would have soothing, warm, white cream from somewhere - which he would smooth generously all over my shoulders and start to knead it into my skin and my muscles would gratefully relax…
He would massage every inch of me with this warm cream until my whole body tingled.
He would prepare me with it also - by this point, I would be straddling his lap, lost in his deep, passionate, powerful kisses as he brushed his slick fingers against that most sensitive spot inside me… His robes would be covered in cream as I wriggled and pressed my slippery body against him, totally aroused under his touch, but he wouldn't care. He'd think me so delicious that I could make all the mess I wanted, as long as I stayed on his lap, pressing my leaking arousal into his clothed stomach...
I suddenly get an image of us having sex, on the floor, both naked on top of all those parchments, which he was marking so carefully for hours. It is so carnal, so intense - I am on all fours; he is thrusting into me from behind as I scream with wild pleasure - I am pushing back to his thrusts, trying to take him deeper each time, even though he is buried in me as far as he could possibly go… And all those parchments are ruined - covered, as we are, in saliva, sweat and cream. He will have to think up an excuse for his students as to how he misplaced their homework. But right now he doesn't care - all he wants to do is to fuck me so hard… His fingers dig into my hips as he holds me so I don't fall with the force of his thrusts. I'm going to come without him even touching me, I'm going to come - all over those parchments; I feel so guilty, so naughty; all the effort those students put into their homework, and here am I, writhing and coming, pulsing all over the parchment-covered floor…
END OF HARRY'S POV
"Potter!"
Harry snapped out of his reverie, realising that he was sitting with his cheek leant against his hand and a dreamy expression on his face. And he was drooling.
Oh dear.
He blinked, and sat up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Sir?"
"Do you even know where you are, Potter?"
Harry had to look around to work it out. This doomed him from the start.
"Evidently not. Up late, were we, last night?"
"Sir?"
"You seemingly got so little sleep that you feel the need to catch up on it during my lesson."
Harry blushed. He wasn't tired at all; it had been more of a daydream than a sleep, really…but he couldn't say that - Snape would ask who he had been daydreaming about… It had been such a wonderful fantasy…
"Potter! Heavens, he actually drifts off whilst talking to me!"
There were sniggers from the other side of the classroom.
"No, look -" Harry began, his cheeks now flaming in embarrassment. Surely there wasn't enough blood in his body to inflame both his cheeks and his…yes, well. He adjusted his robe and blinked rapidly as Snape glared down at him.
"Detention, tonight. 7 o'clock, my office. Think you can stay awake that long, Potter?" hissed Snape, smirking gleefully over his large nose at Harry. Harry just stared down at his desk and nodded, unable to say another word as butterflies began to hop around inside his chest at the very thought of tonight...
I know I shouldn't be starting other stories when I still haven't finished others…but this one has been in my head for months! If you've read The List, I am going to update it, I promise! I've nearly finished the second chapter but I left it on my computer at uni over Christmas. Have this story instead.
DISCLAIMER: These characters, etc. are not mine - they belong to JKR! I'll put them back when I've finished with them, promise!
Summary:
"Severus, my most faithful servant…When I am victorious, what will my most faithful servant ask from me in return for years of faithful service?"
The reply: "Harry Potter."
A/N: The story is that Snape wants Harry to pretend to be his slave if Voldemort wins so that they can live in Voldemort's castle and secretly plan how to defeat him. He plans to PRETEND to use a spell called Blind Love on Harry which would make him only aware of his Master (Snape) and, so, seemingly harmless to Voldemort. Things do not turn out to be so simple, however.
I hope you like this - it's very SLASH, especially when Harry thinks about Snape (the slash is Snape/Harry, obviously) so if you don't like, don't read - you have been warned! :-)
I should just like to add that the name Caecus Amora (the Blind Love spell) I got from one of them English to Latin translator things. I know it's probably rubbish latin, but I don't care; it sounds good. If you know latin, just go with it and don't be cross!
CHAPTER 1
"Severus, my most faithful servant…" stretching out one thin, graceful grey hand and beckoning gently.
"Yes, My Lord?"
Instantly kneeling before him, dark head bowed.
"When I am victorious, and Harry Potter no more than a memory, what will my most faithful servant ask from me in return?"
"I beg your pardon, My Lord?"
"What shall your reward be, Severus, for all these years of loyal service? You may ask for anything. Your deepest desire. And I shall give it to you."
There was a short, very awkward pause.
"Don't be shy, Severus."
"I am not, My Lord…it is merely…I do not feel my request would please you."
"Tell me."
Very quietly. "Harry Potter."
"Pardon, Severus?"
Clearing his throat and taking a fortifying breath: "Harry Potter."
"You want me to give you Harry Potter? The one who has plagued my life for sixteen years? And what, pray, would my most trusted servant do with said Harry Potter if I were to make that tremendous self-sacrifice?"
"I…I have found a spell, My Lord…it…it is called Caecus Amora. Have you heard of it?"
"Blind Love - why yes, Severus, I have heard of it… You would use this on Harry Potter?"
"Yes, My Lord…"
"But…why?"
"I have…a lingering…fascination with him."
"I hear he has grown up into an attractive young man."
"Exactly, My Lord."
"One which you wish to possess yourself?"
"I…I do."
"A fitting end to the Boy-Who-Lived - to be enslaved by and spend the rest of his life devoted to one of the men he hates the most."
"I think so also, My Lord."
"You do appreciate the great sacrifice it will mean on my part - refraining from taking my revenge upon him after sixteen years?"
"I would not ask it if I did not believe you to be eternally generous, My Lord."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Severus. Very well - I did promise you anything. Once we have the brat kneeling at my feet, with my wand pressed against his throat and I am satisfied that I would have killed him had I wished it, he will be yours."
"Thank you, My Lord."
HARRY'S POV
Mmm... He's writing. He's using the red ink, so he must be marking. I'd love to be his quill, or the ink well, or that poor piece of abused parchment, or his desk - if he was my lover I would kneel before his chair and let him use my bare back as a surface to rest his marking on. He could balance that red ink well on the back of my neck - I'd stay so very still. And if he wanted to put down his quill, he could reach round and place it in my open mouth and I'd hold it for him. Or he could slip it in between the cheeks of my arse. Yes, I'd be completely naked for him, always. And he'd trust me. He'd trust me to stay so still and not spill his ink even when that feather was tickling my arse because he'd know…how much I loved him.
Hours would pass, and my knees would ache and my body would freeze from kneeling on the cold stone floor, even if I was in front of a lit and quietly crackling fire, and my neck would cramp from staying so still such an awkward position for so long. And his marking would seem to go on and on, a pile of graded parchments accumulating by my right side…
Until, finally, he would be finished.
He would lift the ink well out of the crook of my neck and screw the lid back on, lay down his quill, neatly shuffle the parchments…and I would hand him a cold glass of wine - which I had charmed earlier so that it would stay cold until he wanted it. Red wine - I wonder if he likes red wine? And I would kneel there and listen to the sounds of him gracefully sipping it, my face too hot from the fire and my back too cold, until he would set his glass down on a little circular table to his left and then… I would finally feel his hands on my skin. He would stroke me - my shoulders, my back, my waist, my hips - he would reach down and run his elegant fingers over the curves of my arse. Then he would gently place those hands on my shoulders and painful neck and he would give me a massage. With cream - he would have soothing, warm, white cream from somewhere - which he would smooth generously all over my shoulders and start to knead it into my skin and my muscles would gratefully relax…
He would massage every inch of me with this warm cream until my whole body tingled.
He would prepare me with it also - by this point, I would be straddling his lap, lost in his deep, passionate, powerful kisses as he brushed his slick fingers against that most sensitive spot inside me… His robes would be covered in cream as I wriggled and pressed my slippery body against him, totally aroused under his touch, but he wouldn't care. He'd think me so delicious that I could make all the mess I wanted, as long as I stayed on his lap, pressing my leaking arousal into his clothed stomach...
I suddenly get an image of us having sex, on the floor, both naked on top of all those parchments, which he was marking so carefully for hours. It is so carnal, so intense - I am on all fours; he is thrusting into me from behind as I scream with wild pleasure - I am pushing back to his thrusts, trying to take him deeper each time, even though he is buried in me as far as he could possibly go… And all those parchments are ruined - covered, as we are, in saliva, sweat and cream. He will have to think up an excuse for his students as to how he misplaced their homework. But right now he doesn't care - all he wants to do is to fuck me so hard… His fingers dig into my hips as he holds me so I don't fall with the force of his thrusts. I'm going to come without him even touching me, I'm going to come - all over those parchments; I feel so guilty, so naughty; all the effort those students put into their homework, and here am I, writhing and coming, pulsing all over the parchment-covered floor…
END OF HARRY'S POV
"Potter!"
Harry snapped out of his reverie, realising that he was sitting with his cheek leant against his hand and a dreamy expression on his face. And he was drooling.
Oh dear.
He blinked, and sat up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Sir?"
"Do you even know where you are, Potter?"
Harry had to look around to work it out. This doomed him from the start.
"Evidently not. Up late, were we, last night?"
"Sir?"
"You seemingly got so little sleep that you feel the need to catch up on it during my lesson."
Harry blushed. He wasn't tired at all; it had been more of a daydream than a sleep, really…but he couldn't say that - Snape would ask who he had been daydreaming about… It had been such a wonderful fantasy…
"Potter! Heavens, he actually drifts off whilst talking to me!"
There were sniggers from the other side of the classroom.
"No, look -" Harry began, his cheeks now flaming in embarrassment. Surely there wasn't enough blood in his body to inflame both his cheeks and his…yes, well. He adjusted his robe and blinked rapidly as Snape glared down at him.
"Detention, tonight. 7 o'clock, my office. Think you can stay awake that long, Potter?" hissed Snape, smirking gleefully over his large nose at Harry. Harry just stared down at his desk and nodded, unable to say another word as butterflies began to hop around inside his chest at the very thought of tonight...