Malicious Façade

Title: Malicious Façade

Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter [Ron/Hermione implied]

Rating: NC-17 for sexual content, adult language, and violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series. J.K. Rolling is the owner and what a lucky person she is for such creative characters that I have taken to use for this story. I am not making any sort of profit from this and do not intend to.

Summary: The Dark Lord had been defeated; Harry had done it. His support had not been that of Albus Dumbledore, or anyone that he would have suspected by his side at that final hour, but it was non-other than Severus Snape, Potion’s Master, and most hated professor at Hogwarts. The last day of school and Harry has to face Snape for what might be an interesting meeting.

Story Type: One-shot

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Screaming; the shrilled cries of voices calling from the distance. Flashes of light ruptured from the sky, lighting the figments of pale sky as they set forth into the dark night. More shrilled cries faded from over the horizon, bodies being thrown long distances as the Death Eaters clamored their way through groups of wizards and witches, wands drawn and hoods covering pallor complexions of venom killers.

“Crucio!”

Harry ran, dodging attacks as they were thrown. His wand was held out tightly, his side covered in thick blood that ran the length of his body, starting from a cut on his forehead that bled with undying maliciousness.

Snape ran from his left, throwing Harry a vial and throwing a curse in an impeding Death Eater’s face. His eyes turned to Harry’s, tacit with the agreement of coming up on the Dark Lord together.

Voldemort glared with his silent hiss as he noticed a former servant and his most hated enemy, “Harry Potter.” Venom leaked from his mouth as his wand was brought forward, the time stopping completely as the stream of pure white light headed towards Harry. Harry shifted, his body drawing up his wand and whispering the counter-curse immediately followed by the ultimate killing curse.

Harry was struck down by a powerful hit, his body flying backwards and his head hitting the earth beneath him with a hard thud. He heard the shrilled cry of the Dark Lord, the final cry to be heard from the Dark Lord’s mouth as he seemed into pitch blackness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Harry! Harry, wake up, mate. It is time to get to class. Merlin, you are deaf, I swear it.” The low rumble of Ron’s voice penetrated Harry’s ears as he made an attempt at opening his eyes. His body was wrapped in warmth and his comfort level over exceeding his want to rise for the final day at Hogwarts. What was the point?

Ever since the night he had defeated Voldemort, he had fallen into a deep depression. Though he had killed the man –if you could call him that-, they had lost many lives as well. His heart ached within the confines of his rib cage. He no longer felt the need to get out of bed, though his friend thought otherwise.

Ron shook his shoulders relentlessly, calling his name close to his ear as though he hadn’t heard him the first time. Harry groaned, trying to shrug off Ron’s hands, being unsuccessful in the end. He growled low in his throat before tossing the blanket off his body and rising out of the warmth. “Fine, I’m up.”

Ron grinned smugly at his accomplishment, taking off out of the room to meet Hermione down in the common room. While Ron met Hermione, Harry quickly assembled the needed items for the day. He took a very quick shower –taking only five minutes- and gathered his belongings for classes. He was not looking forward to having to spend the day at school, knowing it to be the last. Frankly, he didn’t want to leave Hogwarts. Hogwarts had been his home for the past years and it bothered him knowing that he hadn’t really planned to do anything after he had graduated, except for maybe becoming an Auror, which no longer seemed appealing.

He sighed out, taking another minute to run over his look in the mirror before rushing out of the room for the final time and down the stone steps to the common room where Hermione and Ron awaited him patiently.

“Morning, Harry.” Hermione greeted him with a soft hug, knowing that since the defeat of the Dark Lord, Harry had lost much of his façade of happiness. She backed up, returning to the side of her boyfriend, Ron Weasley, whom was smiling childishly as always. She was holding a great amount of books in her hands, which Harry assumed were library books due back today.

Harry nodded towards her, not quite gathering his words to go to the extent of voicing his hello. He turned, making his way to his first class. He was glad for Potion’s class being the last of the day, due to the fact that he didn’t quite have the energy this morning for the usual insults that the Potion’s master delivered. He would rather be happy for a bit in the morning before depression hit full-blown at the end of the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day passed pretty quickly, though the sad grins he received from many of his classmates indicated the sadness that surrounded the beautiful day. He was feeling the affects of some of the sad hugs he received, some from the friends that he had laughed with and some from sympathetic peers that had heard about the loss of a close friend, Neville Longbottom.

Neville Longbottom had died earlier that year, along with two other students from Hufflepuff. The depression hit most when the Gryffindors were told of his death. He had been captured early on in the year and ultimately tortured, and killed by the Dark Lord. Harry’s rage seethed within his body, knowing well what Snape had said the following weeks. The man had no heart for the situation.

One day, Harry had found himself a bit off end when the man made a comment about how “at least this way Mister Longbottom will not cause anymore problems that will disturb his classes.” Harry turned red in the face, his fists clenched at his sides and finally taking his wand from beneath his robes and aiming it towards his Potion’s professor, his eyes tearing up.

“Don’t you ever say such a thing like that about Neville again or I will curse you into the next dimension.”

Harry had never truly gotten over the way the man had sneered at him, bellowing his robes as he turned away from him with a loud snort, “You will do well, Potter, to put your wand away or expect to be expelled from Hogwarts as fast as you can say ‘Crucio’.”

Harry felt the blood boil beneath his skin as he made the cold descent down the staircase leading to the dungeons. The man had protected him when they were battling the Dark Lord, but Harry figured that he was saving his own arse.

Sweet Neville had never deserved death and it was absolutely malevolent for anyone to think otherwise.

Harry stepped into the dark of the dungeons, noticing from the corner of his eye that Snape was watching him with impassive eyes. His body continued to tense at the nearness of the man. It was the last day of school, he could simply make the man pay for those malicious words; make him regret he ever crossed Harry Potter. No one in Azkaban could make him regret throwing an Unforgivable curse at the man even now that the man had been there to save him if he failed.

Harry took his usual spot near the back of the classroom, keeping his gaze drawn away from Snape, whom kept a steady eye on him. He was not ready to admit the fact that the man had hit one of his weaknesses. If Harry had weaknesses that were visible, the biggest of all was his friends. He had almost gotten expelled for throwing a punch at Draco Malfoy for saying that “forgetful-git deserved to die.”

Harry heard the shuffling of the last of the class entering the door, taking their presumed areas and preparing them for the end of the day and an unimaginably long class with Snape.

“As many of you might presume, being the last day of your pathetic lives of Hogwarts, that you might be let off easily due to the lack of the year to precede today, I have created a little treat for all of you. We will be attempting, with all of you lack of knowledge, to create a simple healing potion, as many of you might need due to your unimaginable lack of caution,” he sneered over to Harry, making eye contact for the first time in the last three weeks. Harry felt the anger boil over his system like a plague as his hands clenched and unclenched periodically.

“I will be writing the ingredients on the board and will suspect a perfect healing potion by the end of class, otherwise you will be good enough to stay and clean out the cauldrons.” He swept from the room and over to his office door, “Mister Potter, follow me.”

Harry looked up from his cauldron, his heart stopping as he noticed that Snape was moving into his office and leaving the door ajar for Harry to follow. He blew out his rage, taking quick strides across the room, aware of the many eyes following him to the end, and stepped through the office door.

“Close the door behind you, Potter.”

Harry closed the door, watching the man take a seat on the other side of the desk and silently say a few spells that Harry identified to be silencing charm and locking charm. He felt his heart speed against his chest as he watched the man sit emotionless across from where Harry stood.

“Take a seat, Potter.” They were direct orders, Snape’s voice leaving no trail for questioning. Harry had to abide to the man’s wishes, taking the seat across from Snape’s. He tried to regulate his breathing as he watched the man stand from his seat, hands resting on the top of the desk.

“Mister Potter, it has come to my attention that you have been upset by what I had said earlier in the year.” Harry watched the man, his face falling as he heard the words. Why would Snape care if he was angry with what he said? Did the headmaster put him up to this?

“Why do you care?” he retorted, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Oh I care very deeply, Mister Potter. I can see that you have not taken well to my opinion of Longbottom’s death?” The damned man smirked as he rounded the desk, taking position directly behind Harry, his presence intimidating.

“Why wouldn’t I be!?” Harry stood up, but was harshly pushed to sit back down by two firmly gripping hands on his shoulders. He felt the rage slowly building once more as the hands did not remove themselves from his shoulders. On the contrary, they took course from the shoulders to the front of his chest.

The silken voice met with the shell of his ear, causing him to shiver absently. The strong hands caressed across his front almost as if not touching, yet he could feel every brush and the slightest rub. Harry gasped as the hands slowly found their ways beneath his shirt, caressing the skin.

“I didn’t mean what I said, Mister Potter.” Snape was so close, his hot breath on the shell of Harry’s ear, caressing it – teasing it. Harry lolled his head back, his eyes closing as the masterful fingertips brushed over his nipples, rolling them between two fingers. He found that he will for talking consisted of moaning and gasping.

Snape didn’t cease with the soft cries for him to stop. Harry heard a soft chuckle in his ear as the man continued his ministrations, “How long I’ve waited to have Harry Potter moaning on my accord. All these years, I have been waiting for the right moment to take action. Now, I’ll have you begging for more.”

Harry felt the Gryffindor in him start to protest, but die away as the pleasure filled out through his blood stream and caused it to pool in another part of his anatomy – his favorite to be specific. He groaned, feeling the erection brush against the rough of his jeans, beneath his robes. The tightness grew as the man whispered obscenities in his ear, asking Harry to beg and moan for more.

Finally, he was pulled up, and turned around. He couldn’t help the desperation in his movements as he leaned forward, his body shivering for more. He looked up, meeting obsidian eyes that twirled with emotions that Harry had never witnessed in Snape’s eyes before – not that he had witness much in the man’s eyes. He saw lust, and what surprised him most was that the man’s eyes carried desperation, like no one’s he had ever seen before.

He realized as soon as his back made contact with a wall that Snape had slowly been pushing him back. He gasped when a mouth pressured upon his, making him open his lips in surprise. His mouth was suddenly filled with a hot muscle that explored passionately, tasting his cheeks and the mass of his tongue.

He felt his body weaken as the man’s hands returned, pulling at his robes and finally pulling them away. Harry complied, helping Snape to peel away the robe and begin to take the shirt off from his head. He was pushed back into the wall, the man’s mouth once more on his.

Harry whimpered as Snape drew away, bringing his mouth to Harry’s ear. “I’m going to show you what happens when you tempt me.” Harry was about to ask how the hell he had tempt the man, when he felt a tug to his jeans and suddenly felt the rush of cold air to his erection, causing him to move forward, seeking the warmth of the other.

Harry bit his lower lip as he heard the man fumble with his trousers, taking as little time as possible. “Accio lubricant,” Snape said with a soft whisper. Harry tilted his head slightly, his mind going through all the possible uses of ‘lubricant.’ His face went crimson at the thought of the uses. He was about to protest when he was lifted, pressed against the wall and his legs wrapped around Snape’s waist.

“P-professor? Sir?” Harry’s voice came out in a soft squeak as he felt fingers swirling his entrance. His heart had sped to a dangerous rate, pounding relentlessly against his chest.

“Harry, I need to be inside you,” Snape prodded the entrance, extracting another gasp from Harry. Harry felt his body give, and then retreat, fighting off the intruder as the finger was slowly pushed past the circle of skin. He groaned, feeling the burning sensation fill his nerves.

“Relax, Harry.” Somehow, when Snape called him Harry, he was relaxed instantly. How could he admit to the idea of finding this sort of erotic? He bit his lower lip as the finger deepened, wiggling a bit and continuing through the tunnel. It was definitely a weird sensation, one that he didn’t throw away, nor welcome.

Snape added another finger, the lubrication making it easier to slide down the channel. Harry couldn’t understand why someone would wa—he felt a burst of pleasure spike through his body, sending him to arch and gasp for air. Ripples of pleasure ran the length of his spine, climbing vertebrae and following the nerve endings to his brain and evidently, his groin.

“I cannot keep my patience, I am sorry Harry.” Harry was about to ask why he had apologized and what patience he had been talking about when something nudged his entrance; something broader, and definitely thicker. His eyes widened as the pain ebbed at his being with the first soft thrust past the ring of skin, causing pain to wisp from his lower regions to the tips of his fingers, which curled in the mass of hair they were now entangled in.

Harry let out a strangled cry as another thrust sent the man deeper into him, pain wracking all of his thoughts and all of his body. He couldn’t help the tears that trailed from his body as the pain rode out through his body. What kind of pleasure could he ever gain when all this pain was eating him alive? He cried out again, feeling the thrust shallow, edging in inch by inch.

“P-professssor…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Harry.” Another thrust and Harry tightened his arms around the man’s neck. How the hell was this okay?! He was in so much pain that his body and brain were screaming. He felt hopelessness gather over him until that one spot made him cry out, not from pain but from pleasure, which unfortunately laced itself with the pain eating away at his lower half.

Snape drew the boy closer as his thrusted deeper. Harry felt the mass of the man’s length –which was too much for his body to have handled- inside of him, rolling around. He couldn’t understand why some of the boy’s liked this. He now believed they had all gone made for wanting, allowing someone to do this to them.

Fortunately, soon the pain ebbed away and he was left panting and gasping out of pleasure as Snape had angled himself to brush Harry’s prostate with each thrust. Harry moved against the wall, screaming out into the office his pleasure. He vaguely remembered where he was and the idea that he and Snape were doing such a thing during the class – which somehow made the situation even more of an erection-builder.

Snape’s hand curled around his erection, thrusting and pumping in a timely rhythm that made Harry scream out in his pleasure. Soon it was all over, their voices mingling in a simultaneous coming that left them both panting for air. Harry slid to the floor, while Snape casted a cleaning spell, ridding them of the sticky substance.

Harry felt the faint blush of crimson paint his cheeks, hearing the man bend over. A hand pulled his chin, forcing him to look into his professor’s eyes.

“Harry, I love you.”

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Author’s Notes: I had no beta for this chapter, so all of the errors are mine. I am not as happy as I should be with how this one-shot (my first) came out. If you review, all comments are welcomed.