The Taming of the Snape
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
9,429
Reviews:
29
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
9,429
Reviews:
29
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.
Mission Impossible
Snape breezed to his apartment, with the air of a man on a mission. His cape billowed behind him.
He stopped in the door way taking a moment to assure his self that no one had broken his wards in his absence.
It truly isn’t paranoia if they are actually after you.
Satisfied that everything was well and the house elves hadn’t intruded more than strictly necessary, he entered and resurrected his complex screens behind him. Undressing as he went he strode into his inner sanctum.
With a mere flick of the wrist his cloak hung itself away, followed a short time later by the rest of his copiously buttoned apparel. It really didn’t take so long to get in and out of if you used magic.
He thoughtfully caressed the battered cover of Potters potions book and gently placed it and the headache potion, on his beside table for later reading. In case he needed to bore himself to sleep at some time over the weekend, he mused.
The scroll however, he placed with uncharacteristic care upon the small table beside his chair before the hearth. It was his most favourite place to unwind at days end.
Shedding the remainder of his garments into the laundry hamper he acknowledged his portrait with a nod. . He summoned up some muggle clothing which lay itself obediently upon his bed. With a **why not** he sauntered into his ensuite. His portrait quiet enjoyed the view. Nice butt.
When he emerged some time later, pinker, cleaner and feeling more than a little refreshed he found that dinner had arrived.
The evening’s meal was sitting expectantly upon a low table before the hearth. It had taken a while but he was quite delighted by how well he had managed to get those pesky house elves trained.
He casually dressed in nice fitting muggle apparel, jeans, and t-shirt which boldly declared “I had superhuman powers … until my psychologist took them away.” It amused him no end.
He spell dried his hair. Once washed and dried it had a mind of its own. Spying the green ribbon bound scroll he tugged the bow and turned to his full length muggle mirror (his magic one had once made the fatal error of telling him to wash his hair more often) and tied his hair back.
He took a moment to admire the view. He winked at his image, blew a playful kiss and summoned a bottle of Ogden’s best.
Unbound it didn’t take much to encouragement for the parchment to unfurl. He poured a glass of Ogden’s and observed it with interest as it continued to unroll, and unroll and unroll. At a guess it was about five feet maybe six. **Hmmm**
He would definitely need to read this one with a full tummy. He attempted to ignore the parchment as the ink twinkled at him teasingly. Having eaten the usual meagre amount he banished the table and its burden back to the kitchen.
He relaxed into his armchair and floated the scroll so that he wouldn’t have to put down his glass. He toasted his portrait as he did every night and commenced reading, wriggling his naked toes at the fire.
The usual blurb at the top, introduced the author (or awful, as he like to call it) and the title of the piece which in this case was ….
He spluttered un-Snape-like. Spilling precious Ogden’s the lack of grace momentarily alarmed his portrait. He on the other hand was tempted to contact Voldie and ask for a date. Rather than read any further.
But the words soundlessly taunted him and he knew he just had to read on.
He stopped in the door way taking a moment to assure his self that no one had broken his wards in his absence.
It truly isn’t paranoia if they are actually after you.
Satisfied that everything was well and the house elves hadn’t intruded more than strictly necessary, he entered and resurrected his complex screens behind him. Undressing as he went he strode into his inner sanctum.
With a mere flick of the wrist his cloak hung itself away, followed a short time later by the rest of his copiously buttoned apparel. It really didn’t take so long to get in and out of if you used magic.
He thoughtfully caressed the battered cover of Potters potions book and gently placed it and the headache potion, on his beside table for later reading. In case he needed to bore himself to sleep at some time over the weekend, he mused.
The scroll however, he placed with uncharacteristic care upon the small table beside his chair before the hearth. It was his most favourite place to unwind at days end.
Shedding the remainder of his garments into the laundry hamper he acknowledged his portrait with a nod. . He summoned up some muggle clothing which lay itself obediently upon his bed. With a **why not** he sauntered into his ensuite. His portrait quiet enjoyed the view. Nice butt.
When he emerged some time later, pinker, cleaner and feeling more than a little refreshed he found that dinner had arrived.
The evening’s meal was sitting expectantly upon a low table before the hearth. It had taken a while but he was quite delighted by how well he had managed to get those pesky house elves trained.
He casually dressed in nice fitting muggle apparel, jeans, and t-shirt which boldly declared “I had superhuman powers … until my psychologist took them away.” It amused him no end.
He spell dried his hair. Once washed and dried it had a mind of its own. Spying the green ribbon bound scroll he tugged the bow and turned to his full length muggle mirror (his magic one had once made the fatal error of telling him to wash his hair more often) and tied his hair back.
He took a moment to admire the view. He winked at his image, blew a playful kiss and summoned a bottle of Ogden’s best.
Unbound it didn’t take much to encouragement for the parchment to unfurl. He poured a glass of Ogden’s and observed it with interest as it continued to unroll, and unroll and unroll. At a guess it was about five feet maybe six. **Hmmm**
He would definitely need to read this one with a full tummy. He attempted to ignore the parchment as the ink twinkled at him teasingly. Having eaten the usual meagre amount he banished the table and its burden back to the kitchen.
He relaxed into his armchair and floated the scroll so that he wouldn’t have to put down his glass. He toasted his portrait as he did every night and commenced reading, wriggling his naked toes at the fire.
The usual blurb at the top, introduced the author (or awful, as he like to call it) and the title of the piece which in this case was ….
He spluttered un-Snape-like. Spilling precious Ogden’s the lack of grace momentarily alarmed his portrait. He on the other hand was tempted to contact Voldie and ask for a date. Rather than read any further.
But the words soundlessly taunted him and he knew he just had to read on.