Pop, Lock and Drop It

Pop, Lock and Drop It


Chapter One,

Kings of Queens

Harry Potter was an object of the utmost importance when regarding the wizarding world. In many of the general ideas of him, he is the object of innocence, pure and untouched. If only they knew, if only they could see the terrible, torrid things he did when alone with those he lusted after. People dared not to question the boy, which made it all the sweeter for dear Harry and the ones he loved—Wait. Must we forget to mention that his current object of lust would be for his delicious, delectable potions master, Mr. Severus Snape?

We're getting ahead of ourselves.

The Boy-Who-Lived was known in the underground scene of Hogwarts as one of the more wanton, needing whores. Of course, it happened slowly, when regarding a certain Draco Malfoy and special uses of a whip and... Shall I say it, wand? Harry knew that he could get exactly what he wanted from anyone he pleased, simply because he was one hell of a manipulative little bastard. He was cute and he was a 'King' of sorts, though was thought of as a 'Queen' most of the time due to a rather unrealistic attitude that he possessed when away from his 'friends', Ron and Hermione, and the general public.

Ahem.

On this Monday, the first of January, he was currently in one of the supply closets (ironically Snape's, in the dungeons, which made the thrill all the better for his dirty little plan), passionately making out with the boy who was supposedly his arch-enemy, Draco. Cloaks and wands were thrown on the floor, and somehow Harry's pants had managed to disappear, maybe on one of the shelves, and Draco's were halfway off of his legs. The lighting was dim, but it was enough. They didn't need much, just enough for the outline of each other's bodies. Tongues thrashed, teeth scraped necks, and hands traveled much farther than appropriate.

The door opened.

The light turned on.

Draco stopped himself, but Harry had to smirk, a look of both disappointment and suspense rising on his face. Draco knew very little of Harry's plan, which was, indeed, to bed their professor. The Slytherin king did know that it would be quite easier than Harry thought. Severus was currently in the doorway, a look of both disgusted horror and vague, lustful interest on his face. His lips curled into a rather knowing smirk, and he began to speak.

“Surely, Draco, you could have had better choice than that.”

Draco had to force back a snort, and Harry rolled his eyes. Oh, how often the older man said things like that. His sarcasm had become a usual thing, and Harry was used to it by now. Draco, at this point, was contemplating on what to say to his Head of House, but offered a sly smirk in his retort, which was: “Professor, sir, answer me honestly: Would you not touch this if it was offered to you? I know you well, sir. Believe me, I do.”

Harry shared in Draco's cunning smirk as Snape fell silent, onyx eyes narrowing dangerously. But the smirk stayed. “An answer for another day, Draco. I must say, however, that you've improved since I've last seen you... Do battle with your lips, so to speak. I'd suggest that you put your clothes on and leave in separate directions before people question you, and Potter?”

Harry looked at him, his own emerald green eyes narrowing as well. “Sir?”

“Hand me the small green bottle that is directly behind you.” Harry snorted, handing it to him as Draco and himself got their clothes back on, beginning to leave. They did take his advice, however, and left in separate directions. The beginning of Harry's plan had worked, because as the 'Chosen One' walked back to the stairwell, Severus Snape's eyes followed him and the way he moved.

Hmph. He felt disgusted with himself for looking at a Gryffindor in such an impure way.

Then again, it was a bit of a contradiction, because on more than one occasion had he learned more about the interesting uses for Malfoy's mouth and other parts of his body, both junior and senior alike.

Severus snorted.

Pity he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the spawn of James Potter and in Gryffindor to top it off. Clearly not his type, he kept telling himself, but his eyes betrayed him as he watched the slender, toned form of Harry James Potter begin to ascend the stairwell. He cursed, breaking the bottle of potion as a sudden burst of strength rushed through his hand. The green contents spilled, and a peppermint smell lingered. He frowned angrily, spelling the bottle whole once more, and healing his bleeding hand.

He was angry with himself, Harry and Draco at this point, but found it suitable to vent it out on an empty bottle of peppermint flavoring. “Exactly when I had a use for it, as well,” Snape hissed to himself, placing the bottle back onto the shelf, then slamming the door shut. And with that he turned, robes flailing behind him as he stormed to his chambers.

There would be no more working that night.

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I liked how this came out. Reviews, please? Ideas for me? Do tell!