Madame Scarlet's

Authors Note: Many thanks to my beautiful beta Laurel, who despite her lack of enthusiasm to visualize Professor Snape naked, has agreed to beta this story for me. (Though I think she’s secretly enjoying it.. lol) And yes, though there is no Snape smut to attack you just yet, there is lots to come soon, but as I’m sure you all know by now I refuse to write smut without a decent plotline to back it. Not that I frown upon PWP, it’s just not me. If you’re not a fan of Snape (as I know a lot of you are not) please refrain from flaming this story. Just don’t read it if you know it’s going to turn you away. I mean no offense to my loyal D/H readers, I just wanted to branch out a tad. lol. (plus it won’t be all about Snape, so if you can get through the squicky parts the story will be fun, I promise)

Chapter 2 Different Strokes

Draco’s head lolled back and he groaned at the pleasure building in his groin. He looked down briefly at the head bobbing in his lap and smirked. Pansy had practically fallen to her knees and pleaded to suck his cock, and Draco could only chuckle to himself at her desperation. She almost made a full time job out of pleasuring him often, but as usual she never remembered it afterwards.

This time would be no different.

As soon as she was finished, he would erase her memory and be done with her until he needed her again. Although, it didn’t really need to be Pansy. Ever since Draco had come into his inheritance, students practically lined up at his feet for a chance to be with him.

Each one promising to fulfill his every dream and desire, but all of them falling short. At first it had been fun, having his way with his housemates, boys and girls alike, he would fuck them or let them suck him off, but nothing ever appeased the raging beast inside of him.

It soon became tedious.

It turned into a need, a chore, instead of something that should have been fun and enjoyable like the degradation of fellow students usually was to Draco.

The orgasm took him off guard and he thrust roughly one final time into Pansy’s delicate mouth. Almost at once he fastened his trousers and smirked, aiming his wand at her face. “Obliviate,” he whispered.

She looked confused for a moment and then ran her tongue across her lips. “I have the weirdest taste in my mouth,” she mused.

Draco only laughed and went to join his housemates in the common room. He was displeased to find that the pressure was already rebuilding inside him and would soon be begging for release only hours after he sated it.

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“I won’t do it. I won’t,” Harry chanted to himself like a mantra.

He had been staring at Ron, who was sleeping and blissfully unaware of his friend’s predicament. Staring at Ron was harmless enough; he was Harry’s best mate after all. The problem came with what Harry was thinking about while he stared at him.

He longed to shove himself deep inside the redhead, bury his cock to the hilt in his arse.

It was a horrid and unnatural thought and, luckily for Harry, Ron was oblivious. It wasn’t just Ron though. Ever since the morning he had fled the Dursley’s this urge was building inside of him and with every minute that passed the option of resisting grew slimmer. Everyone he met, or felt close to, was suddenly fulfilling erotic fantasies in his mind.

What was worse was the fact that some of them even expressed a want to do so.

Ginny was the first. He had arrived at the Burrow by lunchtime and as soon as she saw him she leapt upon him, pulling him with her to her room. “Harry,” she had moaned. “You smell delicious, Harry.”

Thankfully he had pulled away in time to avoid her older brothers catching wind of the situation, but it didn’t alleviate his fears. It happened more and more with less likely people each time. When Fred and George cornered him in the pantry asking to see his wand, Harry knew things were getting out of control.

It wasn’t pretty.

Through the entire ordeal at the Burrow, Harry kept telling himself that things would get better as soon as they got to Hogwarts, but at the Welcoming Feast, he was propositioned no less then a dozen times by students he had never even met before.

Harry had resisted, but the temptations only grew more intense the longer he ignored them. Even now, as he watched his poor unsuspecting friend sleep, he knew that before long he would snap and there was no telling what, or who, he would do.

The most horrifying fantasy popped unbidden into his mind after classes had started; Harry found himself slipping into a daydream where he had Professor Snape bent over his own desk. When he opened his eyes, his most hated teacher was watching him curiously and with a twinge of lust.

It was disgusting but there didn’t seem to be a thing he could do to stop it.

Harry had to do something about this unusual situation because it was getting out of control, and so, yet again, he found himself sneaking into the bathroom to jerk himself to completion. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, and he wanted it to stop. It couldn’t possibly be normal despite what Hermione said about teenage boys and their hormones.

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Draco was the king of Slytherin. Head Boy, and the heir to the longest running pureblood family in England, he was virtually untouchable. The pureblood Malfoy lineage would die with his father, however, because his son’s blood wasn’t quite as pure as Lucius would have everyone believe; a fact that Draco found endlessly amusing.

When his parents first told him of his true lineage he had been angry and despondent. His mother was a Succubus, a trait he was unable to escape; she had passed the gene down to him, and thus, on his seventeenth birthday he would become a part of the Incubi -or rather a Cambion, half wizard half Incubus, just like Merlin himself. As a result, he would have the characteristics of both, but no one really knew which traits he would inherit and which would remain dormant in his bloodline.

He could think of worse things, of course, than becoming an Incubus, but the very idea that he was not a pureblood wizard, as he was proudly brought up to believe he was, rankled him still.

Though even Draco had to admit that inheriting his mother’s line had its benefits. For instance, now that he had achieved adulthood, he would not age the same as other humans; instead he would age one year of every twenty-five years that went by. His mother was over six hundred years old and didn’t look a day over forty.

Unfortunately, one of the things he had been most excited about, his enhanced sexuality, turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing. No one in the whole of Hogwarts had yet to truly sate him and it was slowly, but surely, driving him mad.

He was so frustrated over it that recently he had been denying himself even the lowly pleasures of letting Pansy near him and was now feeling the repercussions of that decision. He didn’t have time to drag her into a broom cupboard right now though, as he was already nearly late for potions.

Draco entered the classroom holding his books in front of his pressing erection and took his usual seat in the back of the class. He was pleased to note that he wasn’t the last person to enter the classroom when Potter shuffled in after him, thus earning him a scolding from the professor and ten points from Gryffindor.

The usual glee didn’t find Draco as the boy hero was called out for misconduct however, and this displeased him even further. He was far too distracted by his growing libido and angry that he wouldn’t get a chance to relieve it until lunch, which was still several hours away. He had no idea how painful it might get before then; even now it felt as though someone was slowly skinning him alive with a dull blade.

Snape wrote the day’s potion assignment on the board and went back to his desk, watching through narrowed black eyes as the students gathered their things, and began working on the Anti-Calamity potion.

All was going well as Draco managed to put aside his lustful thinking for enough time to concentrate on his potion, which was the appropriate shade of canary yellow. That was until Snape made his first rounds.

The Professor billowed up the aisles and with him came the most alluring aroma Draco had ever had the pleasure of smelling. He bunched his hands into fists and placed them firmly in his lap, barely able to resist the fragrance of his potions professor when he leaned in and assessed Draco’s work thus far.

“Perfect, Draco, as always,” the man cooed beside him and Draco could only nod curtly, unable to even look the man in the eye.

He began to wonder just how unseemly would it be to take advantage of his head of house the same way he had done with nearly all of his housemates and a collection of students from other houses? He respected the Potions Master immensely, but surely not even Snape could fault him if he took what he needed, it was the Slytherin way after all, and there was no need for Snape to even remember it.

Sure, he wasn’t attractive per say, but then neither was Pansy, and what did it really matter? It was just a means to an end. Surely the tantalizingly sweet fragrance of the man meant something, and perhaps he would even sate Draco’s hunger for longer than most.

He thought about it through the rest of class, and by the time Snape dismissed everyone, Draco was painfully hard. After the last of the students cleared out, Draco approached his potential new victim with a wicked grin.

“Sir, I was wondering if I could enlist your assistance in a little problem of mine,” he asked coolly.

The professor licked his lips and nodded curtly, making Draco ache with need. “I’m sure I can help my favorite student with whatever might ail him,” he replied at last, his eyes fixated suddenly on Draco’s groin.

“You know don’t you?” Draco asked at once, taken aback by Snape’s leer.

“I know what you are,” Snape corrected.

Draco closed the distance between them and grabbing fistfuls of the potion master’s robes. “And you don’t care?” he breathed, both intrigued and aroused by the idea of bedding his mentor.

Severus shook his head and leaned into the boy, running a hand over his pulsing erection and lingering near the clasp of his trousers. “How have you been relieving your hunger?” he asked at last.

“Any way I can,” Draco panted, his eyelids flickering from the touch of his potions master’s pasty hand.

“Have you just been fucking others, or do you let someone else fuck you?” Snape asked.

Draco looked affronted and stepped away from the dark haired man. It was painful to do so, but Snape’s comment filled him with a trepidation that Draco wouldn’t deny. “No one fucks a Malfoy,” he sneered.

“You’ll never be truly sated unless you let someone in, which means true intimacy in every way,” Snape told him, eyes still full of lust.

“Father never said that,” Draco replied skeptically, suddenly nervous of the professor’s intentions. Mother had never told him anything like this, and he was beginning to wonder what the professor was playing at.

“You’re father doesn’t want you to move past this stage and into the next, not yet. I, however, think that you deserve it,” Snape replied.

“What’s the next stage?” Draco asked, very curious. His nerve endings were begging Draco to touch the man again but he shoved the urge away. Even if what Snape said was a lie, it would make for a good conversation topic with his father the next time he checked in. He was genuinely intrigued, and if what Snape said was true, he might even be willing to give himself away to this man that smelled so sweet, Except that he no longer smelled as sweet as he had before… Draco balked as he suddenly realized it wasn’t the fragrance of Snape at all that had caught his attention.

That intoxicating scent no longer lingered in the room, so it must have been another student. He gave the man one final scrutinizing look and walked away briskly, leaving the sallow professor to gape after him. He had to find that fragrance again –he just had to.

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Harry was perpetually distracted. The air seemed to buzz with noises that all blended together into a mess of sound that made Harry’s ears feel like they might be bleeding. His entire body ached with a pressure that could easily be likened to several dragons sitting on him all at once and his skin burned from the inside out. For that one blissful moment that he could sneak away and touch himself the world stopped, and so did the pain, but only in that instant of orgasm, and right afterward it all came rushing back like a torrent of ice cold water in his veins.

He was wandering the corridors after lunch when he felt a warm arm thread through his own and he looked over into the chocolate brown eyes of his best friend. “Alright, Harry?” Hermione asked sweetly.

“F-fine,” Harry stammered. So far both she and Ron seemed to be two of the few people who weren’t acting strangely towards him, still Harry worried that at any moment his friends would snap and he’d have to steer clear of them as well.

“You’ve been acting strangely for weeks, Harry,” Hermione noted observantly.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Mione,” Harry groaned. He had mentioned his affliction briefly to Ron, who turned around and told his girlfriend. It was odd having his best friend and Ron’s girlfriend as the same person, and he hadn’t really wanted Hermione to find out at the time. But, now that she knew grateful to have someone else to talk to about it, even if there was no way for her to understand completely.

“Still the same?” she asked and Harry nodded. “Well, I suppose Ron and I need to work on getting you shagged, eh?”

Harry was thankful that he wasn’t eating or drinking anything when she said that because he would have surely choked. “Hermione?!” he hissed in chastisement. “Girls shouldn’t talk that way.” He didn’t really believe that, but he certainly didn’t want Hermione talking like that to him… it just seemed wrong.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “So, what king of girl are we finding for you?” she asked, ignoring his statement.

“I don’t want- I mean I do- but not like this, this is… no one deserves me like this,” he groaned. He didn’t know what would actually happen if he had his way with someone; the way he felt right then he might just fuck a hole right through them and never stop. Harry didn’t want to hurt anyone.

“Nonsense, Harry. You’re a catch. I’m sure, with a little advertising, girls will be lining up to date you,” she countered.

That was the other problem. The problem he hadn’t spoken to anyone about yet, not even Ron. It had been fairly easy to stave off Ginny, she was cute and sweet, but after the war they agreed to go their separate ways. He had politely, but firmly, refused her coming onto him the day he arrived at the burrow. Later that week however, when he was cornered in the pantry with Fred and George, he was seriously tempted to have a go with them.

At first he thought it was just the confusion of his ailment and the closeness he felt for the Weasley family clouding his decision-making skills. It wasn’t until later though, when he arrived back at Hogwarts, and had dozens of new bodies vying for his attention, that he realized he wasn’t attracted to any of the girls.

It appeared that he was gay, and it mortified him. He had no idea how he would tell his friends, his adopted family, or how he would even deal with the fact himself. The urges he felt were unnatural, unwanted, but too powerful to deny. To actually act on it was out of the question though. All he needed was to experiment with someone and have it leak to the Prophet, or even worse, Witch Weekly, that the Savior was a flamer! He thought it best, until he got everything sorted out, to just forget that he had a cock, let alone to think about someone else’s, but that was proving difficult, if not impossible, with his current affliction.

All he thought about was sex. When he passed a bloke in the hall he wondered what they looked like under their school robes. When he ate lunch in the Great Hall he thought about whether Neville screamed in bed as loud as he snored, or if he should have just let the twins have their wicked way with him at the Burrow. Once, he even grew curious enough to wonder what someone like Draco Malfoy was like to shag. Rumor had it he was quite the lothario and Harry imagined that if there was anyone in the school that could teach him a thing or two about sex it was Malfoy, but he was also the least likely person that Harry would ever approach on the subject- or any other for that matter.

“Please don’t do that, Mione. I’m not ready to date anyone,” he reasoned.

With a sigh Hermione nodded and slipped her arm out from under Harry’s. “Fine, I get it. I know the war was probably brutal for you, Harry, but you’re going to have to move on eventually.”

“I know,” Harry replied, wishing that it were only post-traumatic stress and not something far worse.

“Well, let me know when you are ready and I’ll do what I can, okay?” she offered brightly. Harry nodded meekly and she took off in the direction of the library. Harry continued to wander aimlessly through the castle until a violent yell took him off guard and he looked over just in time to see a streak of blonde fall on him and pull him into the boy’s restroom. He shouted to no avail since the bathroom and corridor outside it were empty. In a flash lips were on his and a pair of unfamiliar hands began reaching for the clasp on his trousers.

It was too much, the sensations that filled Harry felt like they were nearly spilling over and he kissed the stranger back, unable to even see the boy’s face from their close proximity. When a hand closed around his shaft, Harry gasped and his head fell backward as he relaxed into the pleasure of the experience.

“Harry, I’ve wanted this since the second you stepped on that train,” the boy groaned and the thick Irish accent pulled Harry back into reality enough that he could shove the boy away.

“Seamus, what the hell are you doing?” he gasped.

“You didn’t seem to mind a second ago,” Seamus replied, stalking ever nearer to close the distance Harry had placed between them.

“Seamus, stop! This isn’t you, you don’t know what you’re doing,” Harry pleaded, inching slowly toward the door.

“I know exactly what I’m doing. I want you Harry,” he whispered and made another grab for the raven-haired boy, but it was too late. Harry had turned and ran as fast as he could, away from the hunger that accosted him when he thought of throwing his housemate to the ground and shagging him senseless.

The violent thud of his shoes echoed in the corridor and his heart thrummed loudly in his chest, so loudly that he didn’t hear the approach of another set of feet. His mind was racing at a hundred miles a minute and he was concentrating so hard on getting away that he didn’t notice the sharp clearing of a throat just ahead of him. He was so worried about Seamus following him that, as he ran, he looked back at where he had been, rather that ahead at where he was going, so it was not surprising that he missed the ominous figure lurking straight ahead.

“Oof,” Harry grunted as he slammed into an immovable object and fell to the ground, straight on his arse.

He looked up and groaned at the obsidian eyes boring down upon him. Harry hoped the floor would simply swallow him up, but his luck failed him yet again. “Sorry, Professor,” Harry muttered as he pulled himself up and dusted the back of his robes off.

“You’ll be sorrier in my detention, which you’ll be attending this Friday after your classes,” Snape noted scathingly, his pallid face set in a foul sneer.

“And next Friday,” he added and Harry’s mouth fell open.

“But professor,” he began to argue, only to be cut off once more by the Potion Master’s smooth voice.

“And the Friday after that as well. Any other arguments?” he asked and Harry shook his head quickly.

“Excellent,” Snape muttered and spun on his heel and strode away, leaving Harry alone to watch after him and chastise himself about the incident with Seamus. The whole school would know about it soon enough and it would follow Harry for quite sometime he suspected.

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Authors note: Yes, the smut is coming, however I hope to have painted a detailed picture of how drastically different these two boys handle the same problem. Next chapter is titled: Resistance is Futile…