Duck Duck Goose
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Category:
Harry Potter › Threesomes/Moresomes
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
14,389
Reviews:
41
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
We do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. We do not make any money from the writing of this story.
It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World!
Duck . . . Duck . . . Goose!
By MysticSlave
Disclaimer: We own nothing but the story concepts. All HP characters and similarities to the books are JK’s. Much to our disappointment.
Author’s Note:
Alert: How many can you find? Nursery Rhymes, Rickmanisms and things said to Rickman???? Slytherin is in the lead . . . in fact, no other House has even attempted to play! Rickmanisms may be film lines, interview lines or tidbits from “film diaries”. Remember, if you don’t tell me the source, it doesn’t count! Sorry, but I’m a stickler for that; Journalism training kicking in. Also, if you don’t tell us your House, we’re giving the points to our House – Slytherin. *grin* Good luck!
NOTE: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Severus-ItsWhatsForDinner - joining will keep you abreast of what is going on!
(Again w/the formatting issues -- all thoughts and penseive incidents should have been in italics.)
Love MysticSlave
Chapter Eleven: It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World!
‘I. Am. In. Hell.’
Severus was so completely taken aback that for a brief moment he did not register that he was no longer in Hermione’s body.
He was in a male body again.
Not his own of course.
His luck would never be that good.
‘Rot. Crikey. Bloody hell. I am going to kill . . . somebody. Starting with these two. When I can moooooooooooove . . . Bloody hell! I did not just react to being fondled by Harry Bloody Potter!’
Severus buried his face in his hands and moaned.
Ron and Harry were unsure if it was a moan of pleasure or not and stopped their advances long enough to check. Ron prodded him gently, smearing the syrup that was drenching the boy’s shoulders.
“Seamus? Seamus, mate. Are you alright? Still reeling from the accident in Potions? Harry and I figured a little loving would set you right, but if you’re ill we’ll clean you up and wait for tomorrow night.”
‘I did not just hear that,’ thought Severus in horror.
Ron and Harry looked at each other in consternation. Seamus was usually the most sexual of the three of them, and here he was just sitting, a blind look of . . . horror on his face. Did the accident have long range effects that were just now registering?
Ron shrugged at Harry and moved to sit behind Severus, cuddling close and wrapping his arms snuggly around the other boy. He laid his head on Severus’ shoulder and planted soft kisses on his neck.
“Harry,” he murmured, “go get ready. I’ll get Seamus here relaxed and ready. You know he can never say no to Severus.”
Harry nodded and slipped out between the curtains around Seamus’ bed, returning dressed in long, starkly black robes, black wig, and a fairly good glamour that gave Harry the facial recognition of the Potions Master, even if the rest of his body remained Potterish.
Severus made an unidentifiable high-pitched squeak which would never have escaped his body had he been, well, in his own.
“Shh, shhh... it’s alright,” Ron cooed in his ear, breath warm against skin. Severus shivered, partially in delight as his body treacherously reacted to Ron’s touch and partially in horror as he realized he was about to be, well, yes, forced into unwanted sex again, going against his self-induced celibate nature. ‘Was this to be better or worse than the escapade with Minerva?’ he wondered inanely. ‘I suppose anything would be better than another tryst with that old hag. What is it with all these same-sex partnerships? Not that it’s a bad thing, unlike in Muggle customs, it just seems curious . . . perhaps it was always like this and I just never noticed since I kept to myself so much and . . .’ Severus realized he was rambling to himself to keep himself from paying too much attention to what Harry, dressed up as himself, was doing to the body he currently inhabited. ‘What was that Muggle show? Twilight Zone? Yes, that seemed to fit. Too bad I know I’m already awake and not having some dreadful nightmare. I wonder if I can talk Albus into new sleeping arrangements for Mr. Finnegan?’
Severus realized Harry was now draped over his thighs, long black hair tickling his groin. ‘I feel like some special kind of pervert being seduced by a student, The Bloody Boy Who Lived no less, dressed up as his hated . . . apparently not that hated . . .Potions professor. Urgh,’ mused Severus. It was all so, completely, utterly wrong. Albus was definitely losing it. ‘Or he will when I kill him. . . if he doesn’t die of shock when this all gets fixed and I tell everyone the truth.’ Severus smirked gleefully at this thought; at what Minerva and others would say when they realized they had been seducing Severus Snape and not Hermione and Seamus.
“Do you remember the poem you rewrote, Seamus?” Ron asked softly.
Severus shook his head, eyes glazed in a semi-passion/semi-horror induced state. Slytherins knew when to fight or when to flee and although Severus nearly always stood and fought, if he could have extracted himself from the bed, he would have run as fast as Seamus’ legs would carry him. Unfortunately Ron and Harry had apparently stripped him and running away starkers was not really the impression he wanted to leave. He had a sneaky suspicion one or both boys would follow him if he made such a move.
Ron leaned further into Severus’ body and Severus realized in dismay that Ron had apparently charmed off his own clothes since climbing in behind him.
Ron’s breathy voice, with more dignity than Severus had ever heard before, began reciting what Severus had once considered his favourite Shakespearian sonnet. He was afraid after hearing these new words he would never view it the same way again.
‘My master’s eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than his lips’ red:
If snow be white, why then his chest be dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on his head.
I have seen roses damask’d, black and white,
But no such roses see I in his cheeks;
And in some potions is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my master reeks.
I love to hear him speak, as so we know
No sound more pleasing could be found
I grant I never saw a goddess go, --
My master when he walks, treads on the ground;
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any he belied beyond compare.’
Severus froze at hearing the words whispered in his ear and Harry took advantage of his absolute stillness to wrap his lips around Severus’ semi-rigid member.
Severus inhaled deeply. It felt very, very good, although his mind still insisted it was very, very wrong. Harry was proving to be very capable with tongue and lips – not that Severus had a lot to compare it to, never having taken part in male-on-male sex, even in his Death Eater days – and squirmed in Ron’s embrace. Ron shivered against his back, hard warmth pressing against Severus, and ran his hands over Severus’ chest. Severus moaned, unable to keep the sound inside.
Harry moved his mouth slowly back up Severus’ shaft, licking and nibbling as he went. The cool air against his skin tingled in further anticipation of whatever Harry had in store. Harry winked mischievously at him as he bowed his head and began to run his tongue up and down, all around, kissing him here and there. A gentle hand cupped him underneath, gently massaging the softness he found there, until his face lowered down and replaced his hand with his warm, wet mouth. Severus bucked his hips, unable to control this body’s movements. Smiling at Severus around his mouthful, Harry licked his way back up, slipping his tongue into the other boy’s slit, sucking, fondling; one hand pulling gently on Severus.
He was still disturbed at the sight of Harry glamoured as himself, disturbed at being suckled by the Boy Who Lived and fondled by the second member of the Golden Trio, who both thought he was Seamus Finnegan. The two boys were living out what was probably an ultimate fantasy of theirs and they did not even know it.
Severus groaned when Harry’s delicious mouth left his hard length, but began to smile when the boy moved forward, kissing his thighs, moving up the soft fuzzy down of hair to his belly button, swirling his tongue, in, around, out, and back down, back up. Ron, in the meantime, leaned forward, gently kissing Severus’ arms, the crook of his elbow, the inside of his wrist, delicately suckling each finger.
‘Merlin, save me. If only Mr. Weasley were so . . . dedicated to his potion work, we’d have had so much less trouble in the classes he was in,’ Severus’ feverish mind mused.
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain as Ron pulled backwards on his hair, forcing his chin up at a sharp angle. Harry immediately leaned forward, nipping and biting at Severus’ neck. At his sudden gasp, Harry grinned up at him.
“Oh, come on, Seamus, you know you like it rough.” And winked. It looked decidedly odd on Severus’ face atop Harry’s body.
Seamus’ body was riding on a wave of ecstasy and Severus knew there was no escaping this unexpected situation and like he did with Minerva, resigned himself to it.
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Meanwhile, down in the dungeons, Draco was headed for detention.
Draco strode into the Potions classroom without knocking. This did little to change Hermione’s view of him, and she glared at her wayward student with a smirk worthy of Snape at his worst.
Draco raised an eyebrow at her.
“Mr. Malfoy, you are, ostensibly a Pureblood,” the word sounding as foul as Mudblood did from Draco’s lips, “and one would assume you had been raised in a nice home with manners, and not in a shack like a wild animal?”
Draco frowned indignantly at his professor.
Hermione stood and swooped by him. “Knock, Mr. Malfoy, when you enter someone’s room. It is polite.”
Draco’s cheeks were tinged red and he was hard-put to keep his temper reigned in. ‘Father will hear about this insolence!’
“I am well aware that it was you that sabotaged Mr. Longbottom’s cauldron, and I thought about having you scrub them all out by hand, but something has come up and I will be sending you to serve detention with Mr. Filch. Tonight.”
Draco paled. The last time he had served with Filch, he’d been trotted out to the Forbidden Forest like some sort of servant.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, glaring at Draco, daring him to challenge her authority.
Draco looked away first and, with a heavy sigh, strode out of the classroom towards Filch’s quarters.
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As he neared the squib’s rooms, he heard a peculiar sound coming from a nearby closet. It sounded like . . . singing?
I love little pussy,
Her coat is so warm,
And if I don\'t hurt her,
She\'ll do me no harm.
So I\'ll not pull her tail,
Nor drive her away,
But pussy and I,
Very gently will play.
Draco’s mouth fell open in a very undignified manner. ‘That cannot be a real song! It’s so . . . completely . . . naughty! And who is singing it?’
He heard a sudden movement behind him and spun around to find Mrs. Norris eyeing him.
He leaned down until his face was a mere hair’s breadth from the cat’s face and murmured, “Fuck off.”
Almost immediately he heard the low voice of Filch mutter, “Ohhh, we are in trouble . . .”
Draco snapped upright, turning to apologize, but Filch was nowhere to be seen. He watched as Mrs. Norris primly sat down in front of the closet and began to wash herself. Draco’s expression cleared as it dawned on him it had been Filch singing in the closet.
“Weird man, that one,” muttered Draco as he shoved Mrs. Norris out of the way with his foot so that he could let Filch know he was as ready as he’d ever be for his detention.
Without bothering to knock, he began to pull open the door.
What Draco saw would scar him for life.
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Hermione was startled out of her thoughts when a frantic rapping sounded on the door. ‘Hmm. . . . too large for an owl.’
“Enter,” she called out in Snape’s austere tones.
Draco burst into the classroom, face white as a sheet, eyes wide, mouth agape. Hermione realized he was entering the first stages of shock. What had happened to the boy? He had been gone less than ten minutes!
Hermione placed both hands on the boy’s shoulders in an attempt to settle him, and somewhat gently pushed him into her desk chair before peering into his eyes, trying to gauge how far into shock Draco had gone.
“Draco?” she murmured, “Are you still in there, boy?”
A bit of red tinged Draco’s cheeks, although she was unsure if it was in fear or anger. His lips were pale and his skin was clammy to the touch. “Stay here,” she instructed and rose to fetch a potion. She debated for a moment and came back with a Calming Draught which she helped him drink. Slowly, his heart-rate came back down to normal.
“Draco,” Hermione tipped his face up to look at hers once more, “can you tell me what happened?”
He shook his head, looking for all the world like a scared little girl.
Hermione sighed. It was hard to hate him when he looked so vulnerable – and she didn’t even know what had frightened him.
“Draco, can you pull yourself together enough to put your thoughts into a pensieve for me?”
Draco appeared to be thinking about her request. “Can’t you just do Legilimency? I’m so tired, Professor.”
Even had she known how, she would not have dared such a risk. There was too much of a chance that Draco would realize Hermione was wearing her professor’s body. She shook her head. “Not with you in the state you’re in, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco sighed and then nodded. “The pensieve, then, sir.”
Hermione hid a sigh of relief and went to fetch the empty one that she kept handy for emergencies.
Draco slowly fed a long, silver streak into the bowl and handed it to Hermione. “May I go, sir? I’ll . . . I’ll serve detention another night if you want me to, but please, not with Filch. I could not bear it.”
Hermione was shocked to realize that Draco looked ready to cry. “Go, then, Mr. Malfoy. I’ll figure something out for you after I view your memories.”
Draco nodded and moved to slip out the door. With one scared look back at Hermione, he muttered, “Be careful, sir.”
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When Draco had left, Hermione settled herself comfortably in her chair and dipped her wand into the penseive’s contents.
Hermione followed Draco through telling Mrs. Norris off, hearing Filch tell someone they were in trouble, and Draco’s kicking Mrs. Norris out of his way – she had to smile at that – and then she saw what had horrified Draco so terribly when the closet door was slowly pulled open.
There stood Filch in all his natural glory. Apparently even as a squib, he had something that witches desired. Sick, depraved, mentally unstable witches, that is.
Hung like a horse was an understatement. Hung like a centaur was more like it. Hermione was horrified. She dragged her eyes away from Filch in order to see who was lonely enough to want him.
Hermione’s jaw dropped and she was glad that she could not be seen by the people in this memory. Shackled and spread-eagled to the wall hung Madam Hooch, and kneeling on all fours in front of Filch was Professor Sprout; no doubt Filch had been referring to the tiny woman on the floor when he said someone was in trouble. Sprout was far too small for someone of Filch’s . . . impressive . . . erm . . . girth.
Hermione idly wondered if the real reason that Filch confiscated things from the students was to use them in these situations. She shuddered at the thought even though he had never made off with any of her belongings.
Hermione peered further into the darkened room, safe in the knowledge that the trio would never see her, her innate sense of curiosity kicking in at the most perverse time. Further inspection revealed that Sprout was slowly engulfing the whole of him in her mouth. An impressive feat for such a small witch. Despite herself, Hermione was impressed, although she tried, quite unsuccessfully, to block out the undulating moans, gurgles, slurps and a bit of . . . Hermione winced . . . gagging that were coming from her diminutive Herbology Professor. Filch’s monstrously sized bollocks were slapping Sprout under the chin each time the caretaker would lose slight control of his rigid stance and buck further into the professor’s mouth. ‘He must have Elephantitis,’ thought Hermione, ever the book worm.
Hermione tensed as she watched Filch raise a long whip into the air and sent it whistling forward, making a resounding crack on Sprout’s rotund backside. Apparently Filch did make good on his threats to bring back corporal punishment – just not in any sort of form Hermione would have ever envisioned in her wildest imagination.
She turned her attention to Hooch who, on closer assessment, was not in pain from the chains that bound her to the cold stone wall. The flush on her face, Hermione now realized, was from pleasure, not pain, or perhaps, some of both. Either way, the woman was obviously enjoying whatever the caretaker had done to her.
Was she muzzled? No, Hermione realized she had a ball-gag in her mouth. Wouldn’t people be surprised if anyone knew that their precious little Gryffindor bookworm knew all the ins and outs of sex toys?
It was hard to see in the poorly lit closet, but she slowly realized that Hooch also wore a studded black-leather collar, to which a leash was attached. Hermione followed the leash down to Sprout’s hand. Whenever Sprout was jerked by Filch, she involuntarily pulled Hooch’s head forward.
Hermione was quite interested in figuring out just what Hooch was wearing; practically salivating at what she could introduce Minerva to when she was back in her own lithe little body. Nipple clamps? Check. Paddle? Check – it was lying on the floor in reach of Filch. Actually, Hermione realized there were a number of paddles. It made sense, being a Squib, Filch would be unable to summon anything in the middle of his . . . sessions . . . and would probably not want either of the unexpectedly unusually subordinate women to do it for him. ‘Merlin! Did I just think that part of this . . . made sense?’
Without warning, Filch turned slightly to the side, slowly, placed the whip on the floor, and picked up an unidentifiable object. In doing so, he bent over enough to reveal that he had a hole in the seat of his pants.
Through which a plug was hanging out of. A soft, near girlish laugh came from Filch’s lips as he trilled, “Mrs. Norris!”
The dastardly feeling slipped in between Draco’s legs, heading for her beloved Filch. As she approached, the feline began to . . . the abrupt movement of the cat near his body combined with the sight of Filch’s crack was enough to rouse Draco from his rigid state.
Draco suddenly tore himself away from the terror in front of him and ran down the hall. Hermione was jerked forcefully out of the memory.
She sat up, breathing hard, face flushed in embarrassment. She would never be able to look at the three of them without remembering tonight.
She shook her head to clear it and penned a quick note to Draco and sent it on its way with Snape’s owl. “Your detention tonight was adequate and you need not serve it any further. I believe you have learned your lesson regarding meddling in things which are none of your business. Good day. Professor Snape. P.S. I advise you drink the included vial of Dreamless Sleep.”
Hermione set a vial aside for herself.
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Shortly after sending the owl, Hermione flooed into her old Head Girl rooms in order to brief Severus on what had happened with Draco. Not that the event would ever slip her mind, unless she had that bit obliviated, but she felt that it was something of which the boy’s true Head of House should be made aware.
Severus was passed out on his bed, sound asleep. Hermione smiled to herself. She was glad to see he was getting some well deserved rest. She hated to wake him, but felt it was warranted.
Sitting down on the bed next to Severus, she leaned over and called his name. When that did not work, she started tickling him in the spots she knew to be sensitive on her body.
Severus began to squirm and within moments turned over. Sleep-weary eyes stared blearily up at her, surprise blatantly obvious. Hermione smirked to herself. She supposed it would be rather surprising, even to Severus, to wake up and find a professor staring down at you in the middle of the night.
“Professor?”
“Something’s happened to Draco, and I thought you would want to know as soon as possible,” said Hermione in way of an explanation.
The words made no sense to Seamus. Why would he care if something happened to that pureblood git, Draco? More importantly, why in the world was Severus Snape sitting on his bed? If this was a dream, it was awfully realistic. . . and if it wasn’t, well, ‘Dreams do come true,’ mused a semi-conscious Seamus.
Seamus roused himself from his slumber and pushed himself into a sitting position. He tentatively touched the Potion Master’s hand that was resting on the coverlet and was both surprised and gratified when the man did not pull away.
“Let’s not talk about Draco right now, sir.”
He received the infamous smirk and quirking of eyebrow at this and, taking it completely the wrong way, flung himself onto the professor, burying his face into his neck, trailing kisses down the soft skin he found there.
Hermione was beyond shocked. ‘This was not shaping up to be a good evening. Something was terribly wrong with everyone!’
She opened her mouth to express such a sentiment only to have her own lips pressed against hers in a fervent kiss. When the kiss began to deepen, she pushed frantically at the body, but was simply clung to in a tighter fashion.
‘I am in Heaven!’ thought Seamus, as he pushed himself bodily against the man of his dreams. He was surprised to realize he did not feel his arousal as much as he would have expected. In fact, nothing was between them at all. He slid a hand down his body and to his horror, found nothing there. He peered down at himself and screeched in horror.
“Oh my God! I’m a girl!”
And promptly passed out.
Hermione sighed. Things were never easy at Hogwarts. This did not appear to be Severus. Which begged the questions how and whom?
She was pretty sure Neville and his potions incident was the cause of how. This, she realized in horror, meant that the most likely new resident in her body was Seamus Finnegan. Which meant Severus was up in Gryffindor Tower in Seamus’ body.
‘Bugger,’ thought Hermione.
Unfortunately for Severus, she didn’t know how apt that comment was.
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Hermione stepped carefully out of the Floo into the Infirmary, where she carefully laid her body on a bed, drew the curtains, and went in search of Poppy.
“Hermione?”
She nodded.
“What can I do for you?”
“It would appear there was another switch. We had an incident in potions today and the effect was apparently delayed.”
Hermione sighed.
“I’m pretty sure Seamus is now in my body and that Severus is in Seamus’ body. Hopefully sound asleep and blissfully unaware of what happened. Until he gets up in the morning.”
Poppy shook her head. “How is Seamus?”
“Unconscious. I left him on one of the beds and drew the curtains.”
Poppy nodded. “And the reason for his current state?”
Hermione blushed. Poppy smiled to herself. The red tinge on Severus’ cheeks made him seem much more human and, dare she say it? Sweet.
“Draco was to serve detention tonight for instigating the potions mishap. I sent him to Filch who was . . . . already well occupied for the evening and the sight sent Draco into shock. After I dealt with Draco, I flooed into my old room to inform Severus. When he woke up, he looked at me with some surprise, told me he did not wish to discuss Draco, leapt into my arms and tried to snog me. Hell, he did snog me.”
Poppy was surprised to hear Hermione swear, but under the circumstances she figured it was warranted.
“Do I even want to know what Draco saw?”
Hermione shook her head. “I wish I hadn’t seen it, but I had Draco copy the memory into a pensieve so that I could view it and decide what course of action to take next. I’ll let Albus know, but I do not believe anyone else needs to be aware of what happened. I imagine Albus will tell me if it should be otherwise.”
Hermione sighed.
So did Poppy.
“Go get the Headmaster, child. I’ll stay here with Seamus.”
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A few minutes later, Hermione returned with Albus in tow.
Albus stood over the bed peering down at Seamus. Hermione had already filled him in on what had happened, and had promised to show the pensieve to Albus later that night.
“We’ll have to tell him what is going on, Albus,” Poppy pointed out.
Albus smiled at the two women. “Yes, I suppose we shall,” he mused, leaving Hermione and Poppy feeling decidedly out of sorts and a bit nervous.
“He seems to be alright for now, let us go in your office while we wait. Hermione, why don’t you fetch the pensieve and I’ll view Mr. Malfoy’s memory while we’re up here.”
Hermione nodded, and flooed back to her classroom to pick up the basin. On returning, she set it carefully in front of Albus and sank wearily down into a soft chair.
“I warn you, Albus, that memory is beyond disturbing. I gave Mr. Malfoy a vial of Dreamless Sleep and I’ll be taking one myself whenever I get to bed.”
Albus merely twinkled and dipped his wand into the swirling silver contents.
Moments later he flew back out, nearly upsetting the pensieve, with a look of horror and . . . jealous rage on his face.
He stood, placed the pensieve in Hermione’s lap, and, muttering under his breath, strode out of the infirmary.
“Did he say he was going to kill Rolanda?”
“Yes.”
“Thought he did.”
There was a pause.
“Why would Albus want to kill Rolanda? I thought they were lovers.”
Hermione groaned. She handed Poppy the pensieve. “This will answer your questions. I am going to try to get some sleep so I will be able to deal with everyone tomorrow. Do not let Seamus leave; we still have to explain things to him.”
Poppy nodded.
“Oh, and Poppy?”
The older woman looked up.
Hermione fished through her pockets and tossed the medi-witch a vial containing an extra strong sleeping draught. “You might need that after you see what Draco saw.”
And with that, she swept out of the room.
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The next morning, Seamus awoke to find himself bound to a hospital bed. Poppy’s deft way of ensuring that students did not escape out of her watch before she was ready for them to leave.
A small smirk graced his lips. “Who would have ever thought,” he mused, “that Know-it-All Granger and the snarky Potions Master would have a thing going on.” He snickered. “Hermione, you have been a bad, bad girl. . . . And I am going to make very good use of it.”
Author’s Note:
The nursery rhyme that Argus is singing is a real nursery rhyme. To hear it, please visit MysticSong1978’s website (http://www.geocities.com/mysticsong1978) and go to the Sounds section located in the Gallery.
By MysticSlave
Disclaimer: We own nothing but the story concepts. All HP characters and similarities to the books are JK’s. Much to our disappointment.
Author’s Note:
Alert: How many can you find? Nursery Rhymes, Rickmanisms and things said to Rickman???? Slytherin is in the lead . . . in fact, no other House has even attempted to play! Rickmanisms may be film lines, interview lines or tidbits from “film diaries”. Remember, if you don’t tell me the source, it doesn’t count! Sorry, but I’m a stickler for that; Journalism training kicking in. Also, if you don’t tell us your House, we’re giving the points to our House – Slytherin. *grin* Good luck!
NOTE: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Severus-ItsWhatsForDinner - joining will keep you abreast of what is going on!
(Again w/the formatting issues -- all thoughts and penseive incidents should have been in italics.)
Love MysticSlave
Chapter Eleven: It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World!
‘I. Am. In. Hell.’
Severus was so completely taken aback that for a brief moment he did not register that he was no longer in Hermione’s body.
He was in a male body again.
Not his own of course.
His luck would never be that good.
‘Rot. Crikey. Bloody hell. I am going to kill . . . somebody. Starting with these two. When I can moooooooooooove . . . Bloody hell! I did not just react to being fondled by Harry Bloody Potter!’
Severus buried his face in his hands and moaned.
Ron and Harry were unsure if it was a moan of pleasure or not and stopped their advances long enough to check. Ron prodded him gently, smearing the syrup that was drenching the boy’s shoulders.
“Seamus? Seamus, mate. Are you alright? Still reeling from the accident in Potions? Harry and I figured a little loving would set you right, but if you’re ill we’ll clean you up and wait for tomorrow night.”
‘I did not just hear that,’ thought Severus in horror.
Ron and Harry looked at each other in consternation. Seamus was usually the most sexual of the three of them, and here he was just sitting, a blind look of . . . horror on his face. Did the accident have long range effects that were just now registering?
Ron shrugged at Harry and moved to sit behind Severus, cuddling close and wrapping his arms snuggly around the other boy. He laid his head on Severus’ shoulder and planted soft kisses on his neck.
“Harry,” he murmured, “go get ready. I’ll get Seamus here relaxed and ready. You know he can never say no to Severus.”
Harry nodded and slipped out between the curtains around Seamus’ bed, returning dressed in long, starkly black robes, black wig, and a fairly good glamour that gave Harry the facial recognition of the Potions Master, even if the rest of his body remained Potterish.
Severus made an unidentifiable high-pitched squeak which would never have escaped his body had he been, well, in his own.
“Shh, shhh... it’s alright,” Ron cooed in his ear, breath warm against skin. Severus shivered, partially in delight as his body treacherously reacted to Ron’s touch and partially in horror as he realized he was about to be, well, yes, forced into unwanted sex again, going against his self-induced celibate nature. ‘Was this to be better or worse than the escapade with Minerva?’ he wondered inanely. ‘I suppose anything would be better than another tryst with that old hag. What is it with all these same-sex partnerships? Not that it’s a bad thing, unlike in Muggle customs, it just seems curious . . . perhaps it was always like this and I just never noticed since I kept to myself so much and . . .’ Severus realized he was rambling to himself to keep himself from paying too much attention to what Harry, dressed up as himself, was doing to the body he currently inhabited. ‘What was that Muggle show? Twilight Zone? Yes, that seemed to fit. Too bad I know I’m already awake and not having some dreadful nightmare. I wonder if I can talk Albus into new sleeping arrangements for Mr. Finnegan?’
Severus realized Harry was now draped over his thighs, long black hair tickling his groin. ‘I feel like some special kind of pervert being seduced by a student, The Bloody Boy Who Lived no less, dressed up as his hated . . . apparently not that hated . . .Potions professor. Urgh,’ mused Severus. It was all so, completely, utterly wrong. Albus was definitely losing it. ‘Or he will when I kill him. . . if he doesn’t die of shock when this all gets fixed and I tell everyone the truth.’ Severus smirked gleefully at this thought; at what Minerva and others would say when they realized they had been seducing Severus Snape and not Hermione and Seamus.
“Do you remember the poem you rewrote, Seamus?” Ron asked softly.
Severus shook his head, eyes glazed in a semi-passion/semi-horror induced state. Slytherins knew when to fight or when to flee and although Severus nearly always stood and fought, if he could have extracted himself from the bed, he would have run as fast as Seamus’ legs would carry him. Unfortunately Ron and Harry had apparently stripped him and running away starkers was not really the impression he wanted to leave. He had a sneaky suspicion one or both boys would follow him if he made such a move.
Ron leaned further into Severus’ body and Severus realized in dismay that Ron had apparently charmed off his own clothes since climbing in behind him.
Ron’s breathy voice, with more dignity than Severus had ever heard before, began reciting what Severus had once considered his favourite Shakespearian sonnet. He was afraid after hearing these new words he would never view it the same way again.
‘My master’s eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than his lips’ red:
If snow be white, why then his chest be dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on his head.
I have seen roses damask’d, black and white,
But no such roses see I in his cheeks;
And in some potions is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my master reeks.
I love to hear him speak, as so we know
No sound more pleasing could be found
I grant I never saw a goddess go, --
My master when he walks, treads on the ground;
And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any he belied beyond compare.’
Severus froze at hearing the words whispered in his ear and Harry took advantage of his absolute stillness to wrap his lips around Severus’ semi-rigid member.
Severus inhaled deeply. It felt very, very good, although his mind still insisted it was very, very wrong. Harry was proving to be very capable with tongue and lips – not that Severus had a lot to compare it to, never having taken part in male-on-male sex, even in his Death Eater days – and squirmed in Ron’s embrace. Ron shivered against his back, hard warmth pressing against Severus, and ran his hands over Severus’ chest. Severus moaned, unable to keep the sound inside.
Harry moved his mouth slowly back up Severus’ shaft, licking and nibbling as he went. The cool air against his skin tingled in further anticipation of whatever Harry had in store. Harry winked mischievously at him as he bowed his head and began to run his tongue up and down, all around, kissing him here and there. A gentle hand cupped him underneath, gently massaging the softness he found there, until his face lowered down and replaced his hand with his warm, wet mouth. Severus bucked his hips, unable to control this body’s movements. Smiling at Severus around his mouthful, Harry licked his way back up, slipping his tongue into the other boy’s slit, sucking, fondling; one hand pulling gently on Severus.
He was still disturbed at the sight of Harry glamoured as himself, disturbed at being suckled by the Boy Who Lived and fondled by the second member of the Golden Trio, who both thought he was Seamus Finnegan. The two boys were living out what was probably an ultimate fantasy of theirs and they did not even know it.
Severus groaned when Harry’s delicious mouth left his hard length, but began to smile when the boy moved forward, kissing his thighs, moving up the soft fuzzy down of hair to his belly button, swirling his tongue, in, around, out, and back down, back up. Ron, in the meantime, leaned forward, gently kissing Severus’ arms, the crook of his elbow, the inside of his wrist, delicately suckling each finger.
‘Merlin, save me. If only Mr. Weasley were so . . . dedicated to his potion work, we’d have had so much less trouble in the classes he was in,’ Severus’ feverish mind mused.
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain as Ron pulled backwards on his hair, forcing his chin up at a sharp angle. Harry immediately leaned forward, nipping and biting at Severus’ neck. At his sudden gasp, Harry grinned up at him.
“Oh, come on, Seamus, you know you like it rough.” And winked. It looked decidedly odd on Severus’ face atop Harry’s body.
Seamus’ body was riding on a wave of ecstasy and Severus knew there was no escaping this unexpected situation and like he did with Minerva, resigned himself to it.
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Meanwhile, down in the dungeons, Draco was headed for detention.
Draco strode into the Potions classroom without knocking. This did little to change Hermione’s view of him, and she glared at her wayward student with a smirk worthy of Snape at his worst.
Draco raised an eyebrow at her.
“Mr. Malfoy, you are, ostensibly a Pureblood,” the word sounding as foul as Mudblood did from Draco’s lips, “and one would assume you had been raised in a nice home with manners, and not in a shack like a wild animal?”
Draco frowned indignantly at his professor.
Hermione stood and swooped by him. “Knock, Mr. Malfoy, when you enter someone’s room. It is polite.”
Draco’s cheeks were tinged red and he was hard-put to keep his temper reigned in. ‘Father will hear about this insolence!’
“I am well aware that it was you that sabotaged Mr. Longbottom’s cauldron, and I thought about having you scrub them all out by hand, but something has come up and I will be sending you to serve detention with Mr. Filch. Tonight.”
Draco paled. The last time he had served with Filch, he’d been trotted out to the Forbidden Forest like some sort of servant.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, glaring at Draco, daring him to challenge her authority.
Draco looked away first and, with a heavy sigh, strode out of the classroom towards Filch’s quarters.
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As he neared the squib’s rooms, he heard a peculiar sound coming from a nearby closet. It sounded like . . . singing?
I love little pussy,
Her coat is so warm,
And if I don\'t hurt her,
She\'ll do me no harm.
So I\'ll not pull her tail,
Nor drive her away,
But pussy and I,
Very gently will play.
Draco’s mouth fell open in a very undignified manner. ‘That cannot be a real song! It’s so . . . completely . . . naughty! And who is singing it?’
He heard a sudden movement behind him and spun around to find Mrs. Norris eyeing him.
He leaned down until his face was a mere hair’s breadth from the cat’s face and murmured, “Fuck off.”
Almost immediately he heard the low voice of Filch mutter, “Ohhh, we are in trouble . . .”
Draco snapped upright, turning to apologize, but Filch was nowhere to be seen. He watched as Mrs. Norris primly sat down in front of the closet and began to wash herself. Draco’s expression cleared as it dawned on him it had been Filch singing in the closet.
“Weird man, that one,” muttered Draco as he shoved Mrs. Norris out of the way with his foot so that he could let Filch know he was as ready as he’d ever be for his detention.
Without bothering to knock, he began to pull open the door.
What Draco saw would scar him for life.
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Hermione was startled out of her thoughts when a frantic rapping sounded on the door. ‘Hmm. . . . too large for an owl.’
“Enter,” she called out in Snape’s austere tones.
Draco burst into the classroom, face white as a sheet, eyes wide, mouth agape. Hermione realized he was entering the first stages of shock. What had happened to the boy? He had been gone less than ten minutes!
Hermione placed both hands on the boy’s shoulders in an attempt to settle him, and somewhat gently pushed him into her desk chair before peering into his eyes, trying to gauge how far into shock Draco had gone.
“Draco?” she murmured, “Are you still in there, boy?”
A bit of red tinged Draco’s cheeks, although she was unsure if it was in fear or anger. His lips were pale and his skin was clammy to the touch. “Stay here,” she instructed and rose to fetch a potion. She debated for a moment and came back with a Calming Draught which she helped him drink. Slowly, his heart-rate came back down to normal.
“Draco,” Hermione tipped his face up to look at hers once more, “can you tell me what happened?”
He shook his head, looking for all the world like a scared little girl.
Hermione sighed. It was hard to hate him when he looked so vulnerable – and she didn’t even know what had frightened him.
“Draco, can you pull yourself together enough to put your thoughts into a pensieve for me?”
Draco appeared to be thinking about her request. “Can’t you just do Legilimency? I’m so tired, Professor.”
Even had she known how, she would not have dared such a risk. There was too much of a chance that Draco would realize Hermione was wearing her professor’s body. She shook her head. “Not with you in the state you’re in, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco sighed and then nodded. “The pensieve, then, sir.”
Hermione hid a sigh of relief and went to fetch the empty one that she kept handy for emergencies.
Draco slowly fed a long, silver streak into the bowl and handed it to Hermione. “May I go, sir? I’ll . . . I’ll serve detention another night if you want me to, but please, not with Filch. I could not bear it.”
Hermione was shocked to realize that Draco looked ready to cry. “Go, then, Mr. Malfoy. I’ll figure something out for you after I view your memories.”
Draco nodded and moved to slip out the door. With one scared look back at Hermione, he muttered, “Be careful, sir.”
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When Draco had left, Hermione settled herself comfortably in her chair and dipped her wand into the penseive’s contents.
Hermione followed Draco through telling Mrs. Norris off, hearing Filch tell someone they were in trouble, and Draco’s kicking Mrs. Norris out of his way – she had to smile at that – and then she saw what had horrified Draco so terribly when the closet door was slowly pulled open.
There stood Filch in all his natural glory. Apparently even as a squib, he had something that witches desired. Sick, depraved, mentally unstable witches, that is.
Hung like a horse was an understatement. Hung like a centaur was more like it. Hermione was horrified. She dragged her eyes away from Filch in order to see who was lonely enough to want him.
Hermione’s jaw dropped and she was glad that she could not be seen by the people in this memory. Shackled and spread-eagled to the wall hung Madam Hooch, and kneeling on all fours in front of Filch was Professor Sprout; no doubt Filch had been referring to the tiny woman on the floor when he said someone was in trouble. Sprout was far too small for someone of Filch’s . . . impressive . . . erm . . . girth.
Hermione idly wondered if the real reason that Filch confiscated things from the students was to use them in these situations. She shuddered at the thought even though he had never made off with any of her belongings.
Hermione peered further into the darkened room, safe in the knowledge that the trio would never see her, her innate sense of curiosity kicking in at the most perverse time. Further inspection revealed that Sprout was slowly engulfing the whole of him in her mouth. An impressive feat for such a small witch. Despite herself, Hermione was impressed, although she tried, quite unsuccessfully, to block out the undulating moans, gurgles, slurps and a bit of . . . Hermione winced . . . gagging that were coming from her diminutive Herbology Professor. Filch’s monstrously sized bollocks were slapping Sprout under the chin each time the caretaker would lose slight control of his rigid stance and buck further into the professor’s mouth. ‘He must have Elephantitis,’ thought Hermione, ever the book worm.
Hermione tensed as she watched Filch raise a long whip into the air and sent it whistling forward, making a resounding crack on Sprout’s rotund backside. Apparently Filch did make good on his threats to bring back corporal punishment – just not in any sort of form Hermione would have ever envisioned in her wildest imagination.
She turned her attention to Hooch who, on closer assessment, was not in pain from the chains that bound her to the cold stone wall. The flush on her face, Hermione now realized, was from pleasure, not pain, or perhaps, some of both. Either way, the woman was obviously enjoying whatever the caretaker had done to her.
Was she muzzled? No, Hermione realized she had a ball-gag in her mouth. Wouldn’t people be surprised if anyone knew that their precious little Gryffindor bookworm knew all the ins and outs of sex toys?
It was hard to see in the poorly lit closet, but she slowly realized that Hooch also wore a studded black-leather collar, to which a leash was attached. Hermione followed the leash down to Sprout’s hand. Whenever Sprout was jerked by Filch, she involuntarily pulled Hooch’s head forward.
Hermione was quite interested in figuring out just what Hooch was wearing; practically salivating at what she could introduce Minerva to when she was back in her own lithe little body. Nipple clamps? Check. Paddle? Check – it was lying on the floor in reach of Filch. Actually, Hermione realized there were a number of paddles. It made sense, being a Squib, Filch would be unable to summon anything in the middle of his . . . sessions . . . and would probably not want either of the unexpectedly unusually subordinate women to do it for him. ‘Merlin! Did I just think that part of this . . . made sense?’
Without warning, Filch turned slightly to the side, slowly, placed the whip on the floor, and picked up an unidentifiable object. In doing so, he bent over enough to reveal that he had a hole in the seat of his pants.
Through which a plug was hanging out of. A soft, near girlish laugh came from Filch’s lips as he trilled, “Mrs. Norris!”
The dastardly feeling slipped in between Draco’s legs, heading for her beloved Filch. As she approached, the feline began to . . . the abrupt movement of the cat near his body combined with the sight of Filch’s crack was enough to rouse Draco from his rigid state.
Draco suddenly tore himself away from the terror in front of him and ran down the hall. Hermione was jerked forcefully out of the memory.
She sat up, breathing hard, face flushed in embarrassment. She would never be able to look at the three of them without remembering tonight.
She shook her head to clear it and penned a quick note to Draco and sent it on its way with Snape’s owl. “Your detention tonight was adequate and you need not serve it any further. I believe you have learned your lesson regarding meddling in things which are none of your business. Good day. Professor Snape. P.S. I advise you drink the included vial of Dreamless Sleep.”
Hermione set a vial aside for herself.
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Shortly after sending the owl, Hermione flooed into her old Head Girl rooms in order to brief Severus on what had happened with Draco. Not that the event would ever slip her mind, unless she had that bit obliviated, but she felt that it was something of which the boy’s true Head of House should be made aware.
Severus was passed out on his bed, sound asleep. Hermione smiled to herself. She was glad to see he was getting some well deserved rest. She hated to wake him, but felt it was warranted.
Sitting down on the bed next to Severus, she leaned over and called his name. When that did not work, she started tickling him in the spots she knew to be sensitive on her body.
Severus began to squirm and within moments turned over. Sleep-weary eyes stared blearily up at her, surprise blatantly obvious. Hermione smirked to herself. She supposed it would be rather surprising, even to Severus, to wake up and find a professor staring down at you in the middle of the night.
“Professor?”
“Something’s happened to Draco, and I thought you would want to know as soon as possible,” said Hermione in way of an explanation.
The words made no sense to Seamus. Why would he care if something happened to that pureblood git, Draco? More importantly, why in the world was Severus Snape sitting on his bed? If this was a dream, it was awfully realistic. . . and if it wasn’t, well, ‘Dreams do come true,’ mused a semi-conscious Seamus.
Seamus roused himself from his slumber and pushed himself into a sitting position. He tentatively touched the Potion Master’s hand that was resting on the coverlet and was both surprised and gratified when the man did not pull away.
“Let’s not talk about Draco right now, sir.”
He received the infamous smirk and quirking of eyebrow at this and, taking it completely the wrong way, flung himself onto the professor, burying his face into his neck, trailing kisses down the soft skin he found there.
Hermione was beyond shocked. ‘This was not shaping up to be a good evening. Something was terribly wrong with everyone!’
She opened her mouth to express such a sentiment only to have her own lips pressed against hers in a fervent kiss. When the kiss began to deepen, she pushed frantically at the body, but was simply clung to in a tighter fashion.
‘I am in Heaven!’ thought Seamus, as he pushed himself bodily against the man of his dreams. He was surprised to realize he did not feel his arousal as much as he would have expected. In fact, nothing was between them at all. He slid a hand down his body and to his horror, found nothing there. He peered down at himself and screeched in horror.
“Oh my God! I’m a girl!”
And promptly passed out.
Hermione sighed. Things were never easy at Hogwarts. This did not appear to be Severus. Which begged the questions how and whom?
She was pretty sure Neville and his potions incident was the cause of how. This, she realized in horror, meant that the most likely new resident in her body was Seamus Finnegan. Which meant Severus was up in Gryffindor Tower in Seamus’ body.
‘Bugger,’ thought Hermione.
Unfortunately for Severus, she didn’t know how apt that comment was.
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Hermione stepped carefully out of the Floo into the Infirmary, where she carefully laid her body on a bed, drew the curtains, and went in search of Poppy.
“Hermione?”
She nodded.
“What can I do for you?”
“It would appear there was another switch. We had an incident in potions today and the effect was apparently delayed.”
Hermione sighed.
“I’m pretty sure Seamus is now in my body and that Severus is in Seamus’ body. Hopefully sound asleep and blissfully unaware of what happened. Until he gets up in the morning.”
Poppy shook her head. “How is Seamus?”
“Unconscious. I left him on one of the beds and drew the curtains.”
Poppy nodded. “And the reason for his current state?”
Hermione blushed. Poppy smiled to herself. The red tinge on Severus’ cheeks made him seem much more human and, dare she say it? Sweet.
“Draco was to serve detention tonight for instigating the potions mishap. I sent him to Filch who was . . . . already well occupied for the evening and the sight sent Draco into shock. After I dealt with Draco, I flooed into my old room to inform Severus. When he woke up, he looked at me with some surprise, told me he did not wish to discuss Draco, leapt into my arms and tried to snog me. Hell, he did snog me.”
Poppy was surprised to hear Hermione swear, but under the circumstances she figured it was warranted.
“Do I even want to know what Draco saw?”
Hermione shook her head. “I wish I hadn’t seen it, but I had Draco copy the memory into a pensieve so that I could view it and decide what course of action to take next. I’ll let Albus know, but I do not believe anyone else needs to be aware of what happened. I imagine Albus will tell me if it should be otherwise.”
Hermione sighed.
So did Poppy.
“Go get the Headmaster, child. I’ll stay here with Seamus.”
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A few minutes later, Hermione returned with Albus in tow.
Albus stood over the bed peering down at Seamus. Hermione had already filled him in on what had happened, and had promised to show the pensieve to Albus later that night.
“We’ll have to tell him what is going on, Albus,” Poppy pointed out.
Albus smiled at the two women. “Yes, I suppose we shall,” he mused, leaving Hermione and Poppy feeling decidedly out of sorts and a bit nervous.
“He seems to be alright for now, let us go in your office while we wait. Hermione, why don’t you fetch the pensieve and I’ll view Mr. Malfoy’s memory while we’re up here.”
Hermione nodded, and flooed back to her classroom to pick up the basin. On returning, she set it carefully in front of Albus and sank wearily down into a soft chair.
“I warn you, Albus, that memory is beyond disturbing. I gave Mr. Malfoy a vial of Dreamless Sleep and I’ll be taking one myself whenever I get to bed.”
Albus merely twinkled and dipped his wand into the swirling silver contents.
Moments later he flew back out, nearly upsetting the pensieve, with a look of horror and . . . jealous rage on his face.
He stood, placed the pensieve in Hermione’s lap, and, muttering under his breath, strode out of the infirmary.
“Did he say he was going to kill Rolanda?”
“Yes.”
“Thought he did.”
There was a pause.
“Why would Albus want to kill Rolanda? I thought they were lovers.”
Hermione groaned. She handed Poppy the pensieve. “This will answer your questions. I am going to try to get some sleep so I will be able to deal with everyone tomorrow. Do not let Seamus leave; we still have to explain things to him.”
Poppy nodded.
“Oh, and Poppy?”
The older woman looked up.
Hermione fished through her pockets and tossed the medi-witch a vial containing an extra strong sleeping draught. “You might need that after you see what Draco saw.”
And with that, she swept out of the room.
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The next morning, Seamus awoke to find himself bound to a hospital bed. Poppy’s deft way of ensuring that students did not escape out of her watch before she was ready for them to leave.
A small smirk graced his lips. “Who would have ever thought,” he mused, “that Know-it-All Granger and the snarky Potions Master would have a thing going on.” He snickered. “Hermione, you have been a bad, bad girl. . . . And I am going to make very good use of it.”
Author’s Note:
The nursery rhyme that Argus is singing is a real nursery rhyme. To hear it, please visit MysticSong1978’s website (http://www.geocities.com/mysticsong1978) and go to the Sounds section located in the Gallery.