A Very Good Occlumens

(* = acknowledgments to Adam Ant)

It had been at one of those Death Eater gatherings where anything went. Snape liked to make regularly scheduled appearances at these parties even if his taste for them was wearing thin. For the last year and a half, his usual procedure at these parties was, get in, get on, get down, get off, get up, get dressed, get out*. The Dark Lord often attended, too, which made the proceedings frightening as well as distasteful, though Snape had ably concealed his feelings. On the night in question, he was startled when Lily greeted him at the door (Lucius’ quarters in the former guesthouse behind Malfoy Manor—-it had a wonderful warren of subterranean caverns under it).

“Hello, Severus, or should I say, Snivellus,” Lily leered, draping herself across the open door. “Joining us for some fun, or not up to it tonight?” She glanced meaningfully at his crotch.

Snape closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. The Polyjuice Potion must be going around tonight. He would have to be on guard. “Dear Bellatrix,” he said. He knew Lucius had invited the Black sisters because he fancied the younger, but the elder was such a trial. How Bellatrix had managed to get some of Lily’s hair, he hardly dared guess. The knowledge of what she must have done to get it made him act with more cool deliberation than usual.

“Isn’t this what you like, Snape? A bit of Lily Evans? James Potter’s wife?” she added, to watch the effect of salt in the presumed wound.

In a flash, Snape saw what he was going to have to do. Instead of shagging one or two half-drunk, simpering young Death Eaters, he was going to have to ball Bellatrix Black, no easy task given what he had observed of dear Bellatrix’s tastes. Bellatrix preferred dishing it out, and she wasn’t particular about how. It had taken a lot of willpower to hold down dinner the last time he watched her at work, and he wasn’t sure if the Carrow woman had fully recovered from the experience yet. When Bellatrix was on the receiving end, she preferred everything but the usual. Two, three, four men at once, every orifice; women, too, if she could find willing ones. In all her encounters, she liked to inspire humiliation and fear. Snape pressed his mouth into a tight smile.

“Bellatrix, I would so enjoy showing you my true feelings for Lily Evans and her prat of a husband,” he said, draping his arm smoothly over her shoulders and forcibly pulling her along with him into the entry. The door closed of its own accord. Snape continued to half-drag Bellatrix into the main room. Here, in the dim candle- and firelight, bodies in various stages of dress and copulation writhed, much like the carvings on the furniture and mahogany-paneled walls.

Snape didn’t believe a single man in the room envied him his partner, in spite of her beauty, dark usually, dark red that night. But when your balls are to the wall—Snape gave a mirthless chuckle. Soon, his balls would be up against something much harder.

“Dear Bellatrix. Or Lily. What should I call you?”

“Call me the first thing that comes to your mind.”

Tempting. But “bitch” was out.

“Make it Lily, then, since you’re so keen to believe I fancy her.”

“Oh, Sev, oh, Sev,” she mocked.

Snape knew what would come next would twist him in ugly ways. On the other hand, if he didn’t go forward, he might not be alive much longer. What was it Bellatrix liked to say to taunt young Gryffindors? “You have to really mean it.” Well, nothing by half measures tonight. He would have to really fuck her.

“All right, Lily, my girl,” he said, and threw Bellatrix face-first into a pouffe.

Here it goes, he thought. He yanked up her demure, middle-class matron’s housedress and was infinitely relieved to see no knickers. This would save time. Now for the hard part. Er—where was his hard part? Have to improvise until it made its appearance.

He gave the slim yet lush buttocks before him a hearty slap, and a lovely crack echoed off the walls and drew all eyes to him. Snape blanked his mind of the thought that he was looking at Lily’s delightful backside.

“Up you go then, Lily. Now spread those cheeks for a little of the old in and out.”

“Snape!” Bellatrix screeched. “I’ll have your head f—“

Snape delivered another sizzling smack to her buttocks, causing the pale globes to jiggle most satisfyingly. The beginnings of life began to stir under his robes. As he had feared, he was enjoying this a bit too much.

“Shut up, Lily! I’m tired of Mudbloods like you trying to go where they have no right. I’ll show you where you belong!”

Smack again. Bellatrix let out a fearful growl. Snape was dead certain no one had ever struck her at any other orgies and maybe never in her life before. She began to kick her legs in an effort to roll over and get away, but he read her intent and pinned her legs to the cushion with his own. It took some effort because she was strong as a man and was fumbling for her wand besides. Snape jammed her arm to her side with his elbow.

“I’ll get you, Snape—“

“Temper, temper,” he replied evenly, and firmly spread her ass cheeks to reveal a moist, glistening pussy surrounded by hair the color of cinnamon. Under normal circumstances, this would have had Snape’s cock up at attention and sniffing the air. But there was little chance of his forgetting whose pussy it really was, since its owner was now calling him every name she could think of, some of which were new to him.

Now came the tricky bit. Working quickly so Bellatrix wouldn’t realize what he was about, he undid the zip on his trousers and shoved his clothing down enough to release his penis. In the periphery of his vision, he was aware that the whole roomful of people was watching him. He reached into his robes for his emergency phial, popped the cork with his thumb, and dribbled some lubricant on his cock. For good luck, and to give Bellatrix a bit of a scare, he dribbled some on her exposed anus. The effect was immediate.

“Snape, I’ll kill you,” she said in a low snarl. “I’ll cut off your head, drink your blood, and eat your brains.”

“Dear Lily,” Snape jeered, “maybe you need to learn some manners.”

He spread her ass wide, and she made a horrible noise. Then he firmly pressed his cock head into her sphincter.

“Ah, ah!” she gasped. Pain? Pleasure? Who knew with Bellatrix? All Snape knew was he must shag her and shag her good and hard, all the while clearing his mind of anything but the most generic pornography—no thoughts of the real Lily, for sure. And that was what made the whole thing bearable. Gritting his teeth, he pressed his cock onward until it slid centimeter by unwilling centimeter up Bellatrix’s reluctant rectum. The silence in the room was punctuated by his panting and her unearthly grunts. When he sensed he was in as far as possible, he began rhythmically smacking the proffered buttocks, talking as he did so, and never letting loose Bellatrix’s treacherous wand hand.

“So you thought you’d waltz into a little Death Eater party, did you, you filthy Mudblood? Well, here’s what happens to Mudbloods who trespass. Like it? Tell me if you like it.”

“I hate it!” Bellatrix shrieked.

“Pity,” Snape said, delivering a sound slap to her rump. “I expect you won’t be sitting down for quite a while after this. Hope you dream of my cock while you’re nursing your sore arse.”

At this, Bellatrix screamed a counterspell and suddenly, he saw that his cock was pumping in and out of, not Lily’s rounded ass cheeks, but Bellatrix’s own narrow, pale buttocks, with thick, black hair between them.

“I’ll kill you, Snape!” she was bellowing. “I’ll make you pay! I’ll cut your throat! I’ll—“

Well, this made it easy, Snape thought. He concentrated hard on the last image of the Lily-body and suddenly, he felt himself on the verge of orgasm.

“Hold that thought, Bellatrix,” he cut in, then (bloody relief) he yanked his cock out of her tight passage and squirted his seed all over her lower back, in full view of the room. Most satisfying. When he was done and he had opened his eyes, his first sight was Lucius, slack-jawed, his half-erect penis in his hand, with an extremely pale, naked young woman, looking furious, on her hands and knees in front of him. Bellatrix was sputtering in rage.

Snape tucked his genitalia back in his trousers (non-verbally casting some charms for protection against disease), playfully gave a final fond smack to Bellatrix’s beet-red buttocks (she howled), and said, “Well, old girl, that was a lovely ride. Let’s do it again some time. Lucius, brilliant party, but I think I’m spent. Be sure to give your all to poor Narcissa here. She’s dying for it. Cheers, everyone.” He gave the room an ironic bow, then Disapparated to just outside the gates of Hogwarts. Even then, he did not let down his guard. Not until he had reached his private rooms did he fall on his hard bed and allow himself to relax. Dear God, he had enjoyed giving it to Bellatrix as hard as he had, making her feel some pain and humiliation for a change—but at what cost to himself?

A thousand Bellatrix Lestranges for one Lily Evans indeed…

Now that he had the real Lily in his bed, he realized that the worst of his behavior had been directed at Bellatrix directly. He had no desire to hurt or humiliate Lily—beyond a bit of slap and tickle, anyway. Well, perhaps slightly more than that, but only if she consented. At any rate, he didn’t want to really hurt her, just make her worry about it a little. Thinking such happy thoughts, he favored her with a dangerous smile.