Spell of the Senses

I dedicate this story to my good friend, yaoi-fied.

This is actually her much belated birthday present. So, Happy Birthday, my love. A Snarry for the Snarry queen. Hope you like it...

Enjoy. Love, Sai-Chan.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He twirled the very last piece of the puzzle within his fingers. It sparkled in the warm light of the roaring fire only feet from the arm chair he was curled up in. A honey slow smile trickled onto his lips as a fire rose to his cheeks while gazing upon the one last bit he needed in order to ensnare the only creature to bring a hot groan to his lips. Something so difficult to achieve was what he sought to conquer, yet it was something so small that would do in that which had previously stood impregnable. The irony made his smile widen as he tilted his head back as though compelled by any unknown force to do so. Surely, that was the spell he was under that made his stomach bubble and his glasses fog. He was under the spell of bewitching lust, perhaps even love, as he dropped that tiny object onto his outstretched tongue. The taste of chocolate washed into his array of senses. His shining green eyes closed hesitantly as he bathed in that sensual flavor, imagining it as the taste of his beloved. A chill ran down his spine at the thought and he found himself quivering and gripping the plush armrest as tightly as he could. Heat ran over his body, only this heat was not from the fireplace. These flames that licked their way down his flesh were those of the heart.

A spell it had to be, Harry Potter thought as he swallowed the chocolate truffle.

With it gone, though, he saw that his box of chocolates from a secret admirer was empty. Grinning privately, he tapped the silver box with it’s pretty green bow. Then he casually pushed it off the end table so that it clattered on top of the many other boxes of the same sort. The card, however, remained in plain sight. This, he picked up with two fingers and flipped open to once more reread the words sprawled on the paper. The heat that consumed him was turned into a sea of icy pleasure that drowned him so viciously that he coughed into his hand. Such was the feeling those words had given him since that moment two nights beforehand when the spell had been cast.

‘Allow me to give you an entrance to that world you wish to rule. Eat these and find yourself irresistible. DM.’

That card had been carefully left on top of a mountain of boxes of expensive chocolates that had been hidden behind the curtains of his four poster bed. Harry wasn’t sure how they’d remained untouched while he was at class, but he assumed his new guardian angel had hexed them to remain as such. Since their discovery, though, he had learned the secrets his angel knew. He had no longer ignored the requests of the card. Thus, he had eaten them all once his friends, oblivious of the raging Hell beneath his calm demeanor, had ascended the stairs for some rest. Now he read that carefully constructed message again and found his thoughts drifting back to that moment when everything had unfolded so miserably and so perfectly.

Innocent, really, it had begun. He’d been sitting in that cold dungeon, shivering icily next to a cauldron he wasn’t allowed to light yet. That man, in his long black cloak, had been lecturing the untrained ears of the others in the ways on how to brew a potion as well as he. Then he had noticed that Harry was paying more attention to how chilled his blue tinged fingers were then to the board. As was his way, he swept over to the boy and had leaned down until they were eye level. In a sneering threat, he had demanded to know what was so interesting about his hands. The young wizard began to snap nothing when he’d stopped. The roaring hatred he’d always held for the man who loathed him so changed in an instant. The fire burst into his skull from the flames of hate, melting his heart in a wave of unimaginable and misunderstood emotion. The lines of that face, now see through passion, were forever etched into his mind. Never had he been able to explain what had happened in that moment. All he could describe it as was a spell. The spell of a confused teenager suddenly awaking to a long dormant crush that had been brewing beneath the surface of his anger.

At first, Harry had fought those emotions. He’d sworn that he couldn’t feel that way, not about his Professor Snape. Yet, the searing fire that singed his very being whenever they were in the same room could not be ignored. His entire fifth year had been spent in the inconsolable state of disbelief within himself. So much had been going wrong in that year that he had attempted to reason himself out of this crush. The death of his godfather had only added to that. Then he’d stepped back into that castle and was once again placed before that man. Nothing in his life had compared to the almost painfully rushes of fire and ice within his soul, his skin, his head the moment he was within reaching distance of that which he wanted to touch. Denying himself the dreams, the dancing thoughts that made their way into his skull during quiet times became unbearable. He finally submitted to the spell fogging his mind as it was. He was immediately swept away with his obsession and became only that much more so the longer he was in his presence. Yet, no matter his emotions, he was met with a solid wall of sure rejection whenever he came close to asking his professor to honor him with one late night study session.

He'd tried every trick he’d ever heard about from his friends to gather a look of attention, of interest in those black eyes. He sat in the front row of class and raised his hand to every question, even if he didn’t know the answer. He made as much eye contact as possible. He offered to stay after class to help clean up, to help straighten his desk, to help with anything. He attempted to walk with him from class to the Great Hall. He dropped books in front of him, he faked ill, he even went so far as to question Snape on whether he’d ever loved someone in his lifetime. Every attempt received a dark look and then the professor would leave as was his custom, in a storming sweep of his cloak and a click of boots. There were times that Harry wanted nothing more then to grab that cloak and just exclaim his intentions. Of course, he knew such open weakness would utterly ruin his chances. That would disgust his professor more then anything.

Thus, he was left pining for his secret romance alone. He could not possess that which possessed him at any given moment. Harry had been beside himself in desperate longing when his guardian angel had stepped so quietly out of the shadows only two days before. A secret admirer with perilously chilled grey eyes and pale hair that had slipped right up to him and whispered the secret calling card of the dark professor into his ear. The brunette had been approached by the blond after supper that evening not so long ago. The other had simply asked if they might speak and he had agreed. The two had sidestepped the other students of that castle and words spoken in hushed tones had been exchanged.

There, Draco Malfoy had confessed his deepest desires to his former rival. He begged him to reconsider their relationship, to envision a future in which they were tangled together in a steamy bed made up of lusts and screaming. As Harry had been so focused so strongly on Snape, he’d never seen the stares he’d been given. Although flattered by the extreme passion of the blond’s declaration, he’d been unable to turn his thoughts elsewhere. Hesitantly, he’d informed the other that his heart was already spoken for. Draco had understood. He’d seen the looks, the heavy stares, the Potter boy had burned into the stony surface that made up Snape’s persona. He then offered his services, as he’d long been an aide to his Head of House. He whispered that he knew the path into those silky sheets and it lay within the castle already. With a last glance, he promised to have that answer at the brunette’s door by the week’s end. Shortly thereafter, Draco had departed in a rush of young students heading out of the Great Hall. There was no explanation given as to why he was so willing to help his heart’s desire into the bed of another. However, Harry was much too pleased with his turn of luck to ponder it all too much. Besides, he could never kid himself long enough to believe he could or would ever understand the mind of Malfoy. Assured of that fact, he had waited for the secrets he so wanted to know.

The answer had been the many boxes of expensive candy resting on his bed sheets and a short note that detailed nothing. Still, Harry had known at least something that he hadn’t before. His angel had delivered him a part of the equation. His beloved liked curves, which was why the always painfully skinny brunette had been denied entrance to that locked bedroom. With the presents from his admirer now gracing his formerly tiny frame, he could only smile in the light of the midnight flames. He shut the card from his companion as he eased himself up and onto his bare feet. The carpet of the rug was soft. He paused then for a second to enjoy the sensation while he adjusted his top over his new body.

Though not fat in the least, Harry now had dramatic curves to his frame. His belly had a soft roll that fell over his hemline whereas his hips had swelled several inches. His bottom now had a juicy arch to it, stretching his shorts as it hadn’t before. The rest of him had soft curves instead of the harsh lines it used to hold. His cheeks had a childish appeal to them, his hands and arms were no longer bony. Every ounce of muscle was now squishy and smooth rather then tough to the touch. All this had been brought out by magically enchanted sweets that had prevented swelling and had simply melted right into curves. The amount had been just right, as well. Harry had gained a lot, but did not support the unsightly girth of either Goyle or Crabbe. Merely, he had attained a feminine look of soft flesh that any man would find attractive.

So as to enhance these features, he was not dressed in his usual jeans and sweaters. He had cast those aside in order to ensnare a Dark Wizard by donning the wear of that culture. His belly was showcased in a special corset that tied in the front rather then the back. The strings of the black thing stretched over his belly, creating the image of the curve that no other outfit could show. Below this, he wore tight shorts that were cut short and fastened in the front much like his corset was. The outfit was entirely black and made of a leather type material that bent as he moved, forming a gorgeous second skin. His new weight was revealed wonderfully in that tight thing, he knew, as he pulled on knee high, two inch heeled black leather boots that had the same lace up the front. Now fully dressed for the part, and having the secret he needed, he drew a cloak from the couch around his shoulders. Over this, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak that had served him so faithfully these last few years. Now he hoped it would prove useful in the most important quest of his life yet.

Slipping out of the common room, Harry stepped into the cold hallways of the Hogwarts castle. He lit the tip of his wand and muttered the magic words to a stolen map two mischief makers had given him. As though destined to be so, the coast was clear and the way to that professor’s private rooms lay undisturbed. Pocketing the map then, he began to move silently through the halls, descending many a staircase until he was in the lower dungeons. Never had he been so cold and hot then at that moment. He shivered and coughed as he walked over to that thick door. His footsteps echoed in the still air that was growing heavier and heavier with every step he took. By the time he was in front of the doorway, he found it quite difficult to breath at all. Rather, he gasped and clutched at his throat, his knees buckling. His eyes darted from side to side, searching for the wizard that was hexing him. Instead, he found none and was forced to face that his own nerves were getting the best of him. Swallowing dryly, he attempted to quell the emotions. Time passed and then he couldn’t breathe but he couldn’t stand the wait any longer. Sweeping off the Invisibility Cloak and tossing it to the side, he raised his hand. The knuckles cracked the door and his heart skipped a beat.

A voice shouted that they were coming right before the door was ripped open. Snape stood in the doorway, a hand on the handle and the other arm bent over his head and against the doorframe. His teacher’s robes had been exchanged with a tight black shirt halfway unbuttoned and semi loose slacks that hugged his most intimate areas. He had on his bedroom eyes, the look of a lover searching for someone to love. The frost from the classroom had faded after hours, leaving behind a man that had enough lust about him that the air was immediately thick with it. His slick hair fell around his pale face in seductive strands, each one appearing to have been placed just so to highlight his eyes and firm mouth. One look at the speechless and entranced student, though, and a layer of frostbite suddenly nipped at Harry’s toes. The beauty shut down behind a mask of stone as Snape pushed himself off the wall. His body went stiff as he glowered down at the shaking boy in his loose robes. A blush blood red in color formed on Harry’s cheeks, his head exploding in the amazing sensation of fire and flame as his body was drenched in ice and water. He hugged himself as his eyes took in the lines of that frame. Every inch caused a jolt of passion to thrust into his heart, stealing his breath, his words, his sense altogether in a matter of seconds. Every sane thought was wiped clean as that deep voice filled the dense air that surrounded the bewitched boy.

“ Potter? What on Earth are you doing out of bed? And at my doorstep?” he demanded in that stern voice that slunk it’s way down the boy’s back and into his shoes. His toes curled as he pushed his fingers over his mouth to keep from moaning. The sound, though, still escaped. His professor looked down at him with a mild interest so vile, it was intoxicating. The heat now grew so intense, he could smell brimstone all about him in that hallway, “ Are you feeling alright, Potter? You don’t look well,”

“ I am not well, Professor,” he barely managed to breath out, his hand lowering slightly to allow his voice to flutter up to those ears. His voice sounded as pained as he felt, squeezed tight for the desire that was drowning him, “ I am not well, at all... you see, I have been placed under a powerful spell by an even more powerful wizard... I do not know how to lift it... so I came to you... I believe you’re capable of brewing a cure...”

“ A spell you say? Have you been dueling with Malfoy again?” he questioned, his voice not yet warm to the creature before him. Harry quickly shook his head, smiling a bit at the mention of his angel, “ Then, do you at least know the name of the spell so that I might assist?”

“ Lust,” he said in the instantaneous quiet of the hallway. Snape drew back, until he was standing inside his chamber completely, a look of gentle shock splashed on his face. The teen stepped into the room without asking permission as his hands undid the clasp of his robe. Letting them fall away to reveal his new curves and his deviant outfit, he reached forward. His fingers smoothed along the professor’s wrist, “ For your body,”

“ I see,” Snape answered, looking at first to the hand that was at his own, then to the lines that created Harry. His dark eyes traced them again and again, taking in every new ounce and every string of lace. There was no indication that what he saw pleased him, but the teen could feel it. He could feel it running down his back in the form of stale chill unlike anything he’d ever felt before. A small smile crossed his young face as he moved closer until they were chest to chest. The thumping of his heart must of been felt through the corset and that thin shirt of the other. Perhaps that was why the professor pushed the door shut behind them with a clack of metal on metal.

“ Take me, Severus,” he whispered in the quiet of the room with it’s own warm fire and dark stone walls. His professor tilted his head as he gazed at him, the ice of his eyes finally beginning to melt. The secret had been dead on, he saw, as two hands ran over his soft curves. A shudder of pleasure cascaded down the older man’s back, tensing his shoulders beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but smile and open his mouth to say something. What that was, though, he would never recall for that very moment, they were one.

Snape kissed Harry as hard as he could, pushing his lips deep against the younger’s, both hands holding his head steady. Every flame that had ever exist burned through the blood of the boy who lived then, erasing all thought, all possible reaction. His face went blood red, his knees buckled, and the only thing keeping him standing then was the sheer and unadulterated desire to be kissed by his beloved. The kiss itself was nearly chaste, save for the tongue that moved effortlessly inside his mouth. However, the pressure, the raw emotion best described as severe attraction, was portrayed in a way that no human should of been able to portray. That in itself made Harry’s head swim, his eyes starting to roll back in his skull. Then, as the professor moved his hands to squeeze his round hips, as explosion of sensation consumed the boy.

There was the wonderful pain of those fingers digging into his curves, caressing his new weight with the sort of pressure that came only from the true fetishist. There was the feel of those tender lips on his own, pushing down heavily to create an unbreakable bond between them. There was the smell of musk and cinnamon from those clothes, that hair, that man, which was as strange as it was devastatingly orgasmic. There was the taste of cinnamon and sugar and caramel all running together inside his mouth from a treat his lover had been eating earlier. The pain coupled with the sweet made a freezing effect that put out the fire that was preventing him from fully enjoying this embrace. A splash made his eyes widen as the fire vanished from his blood. He was left shivering in a warmth that was clouding his mind, but kept his senses fully engaged in that man. Outwardly, though, he was a gentle blush red that made the kiss that much more deep. Chastity was then nothing but a memory of the past as soon as that fire was quenched.

Harry’s hands slid up and around Snape’s shoulders until his fingers were tangled in those dark locks. His body was pressed against the other’s until they were skin close from lip to toes. They adjusted their heads as both their tongues explored the other’s mouth in excitement and curiosity. Harry prayed that his love could taste all the truffles he’d just eaten and know that this was a gift. From the way the older snaked his hands down to his ass, he was sure he did. Smiling then, the younger drew back only half an inch. Two darkly hot eyes glanced at him, then plunged down to his body. The steam in the room burned freshly as those candy lips pressed against his throat.

Harry’s head jerked back as he let out the first groan, his hair slick back. The kiss was momentary, for soon teeth broke the skin. A cry jumped into the air, Harry’s head ripping forward so that his forehead was pushed into the dark locks he was twisting his hands around in. His body tightened, as blood dripped onto the floor for the violent shaking. His breath escaped in short, shallow gasps, his eyes wide behind his foggy glasses. Tongue flicked over the wound, his eyes contracted, and then Snape’s mouth was pressed over the teeth marks. The kiss returned in a stinging agony that made Harry gasp and quiver as he held his beloved’s head close to his throat. The contradiction of kiss and bite was as extreme as anything and that alone made him next to sob for the joy of finally feeling it.

Before he could stop himself, he was pulling his professor away from the throbbing wound. He pushed his lips back against his. Blood and candy, salt and sugar, burst onto his palate, forever staining the image of his love with that taste. Snape, however, broke the kiss once more. Giving Harry the sort of demeaning smile that made the younger’s heart skip several beats in frozen fearful joy, he pushed the boy back until his back slammed into the wooden door. He sank down as his knees began to give out, his legs melting much like his heart. A hand gripped his shoulder, firmly and tenderly all in the same motion, and he stopped. Snape towered over him, leaning in the frame much like he had been when he’d answered the door. His dark eyes dropped from that smiling face with wide, liquid eyes and with expert eyes, examined the gift set before him. As he did, time began to freeze over and a shudder of a sigh escaped the boy’s lips.

Carefully, so as not to disturb this encounter of eye and flesh, Harry began to undo the laces that restrained his belly. The laces loosened, letting his arch fall the last inch forward, and the corset slipped to the ground with a tiny clatter. He then lowered his arms so that the fingers were pushing backwards into the door that he’d finally gotten to open for him. Smiling shyly, he watched with embers in his chest as Snape casually looked upon his curves with the mild interest he’d attempted so feverishly to achieve. His angel has bestowed the greatest of all gifts on him,the knowledge of how to win this man’s heart, and then given him the key to unlock it all in two days time. The knowledge that Snape enjoyed the feel of soft flesh over muscle and the sweets that would give him the body he needed to feel that caress. Now, Harry waited to be taken. Seeing his love ensnared by his belly, he bent to undo his boots.

A hand snatched his wrist up.

“ Leave them,” Snape commanded in a sensually deep voice that sounded like liquid in the heat of the dungeon. Harry hesitated for a reason he didn’t know, then drew away from the leather on his feet. Before he could question anything, however, his body had been yanked off the doorframe. He was jerked into the room, his back against nothing, yet stiff as if still against the door. He felt his heart pounding as his legs shook, every step backwards unsure. While he was the unsure virgin in this union, he could see that his beloved was a seasoned player. Snape knew just what he was doing as he moved forward, his hand still tight around the younger’s wrist. Every step took them closer to the bedroom off to the side, the temperature rising until not even Hell could compete.

Harry’s back slammed into the door and Snape’s lips slammed into his own. The kiss was anything but innocent as their tongues immediately plunged into the other’s mouth. The boy pressed his free hand against that chest, his fingers encircling that shirt which remained on his love. The fire rose inside him, bubbling his blood over in the seconds it took for the door to be forced open. The door was dark, lit only by candles in all the corners around a giant circular bed graced with deep green silk sheets. Whatever else may of been in the room was lost in the shadows, but that was perfectly fine with the boy. He wasn’t there for Snape’s collectibles. He was there for the bed that was highlighted in the dim wash of light. Thus, as he burned from the inside out in the lusts of man, he stepped backwards over to that plush object. With him stepped his beloved, moving in disconnected motions as he reached for the boy and undid the buttons of his shirt at the same time.

The shirt fluttered to the ground then and the boy’s head was drowned in the flames of all holy Hell as his body collapsed onto the bed. Before his eyes was the body he’d dreamt about for so long. The perfect lines of Snape’s slender form were as glorious as he’d ever imagined, but more so. The strong build of a real man, though without the unsightly bulk of mankind, firm with muscle but gentle on the eye. The Dark Mark was visible, but it was overshadowed by how the contrast of those black tangles of hair on that pale skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he crossed the remaining space separating him from Harry. Once there, he grabbed both of the boy’s wrists and pushed him backwards. In a flash, the younger was spread out on the bed, his arms above his head, as the older half straddled him and half kneeled on the edge of the bed. Their mouths found one another’s like that.

Their embrace was short lived, although shifting constantly as they attempted to take in every new millimeter that they could. Then Snape’s mouth dropped back to the bleeding wound. Wet flicked over it and caused a low, but loud groan to tremble into the air from the boy’s flushed face and quivering lips. Then that tongue ran down his throat to his collar bone. His heart exploded, his eyes shot into the back of his skull as he felt kisses down the line of his chest. Teeth then plunged back into his flesh, at his pudgy belly. A convulsion rocked his body as his toes began to grow numb. He gasped and panted into the air while Snape moved his hands from their firm position at his wrists. They eased over his curvy body until they were at his hips. Harry let out a howl of incoherent words strung together in an attempt to express his pleasure, his cheek pressed heavily into the soft sheets. His own hands grabbed at the locks of his love and he found comfort in that. Ice soon overtook the heat, though, as the hands at his hips moved over his hard cock.

Wave after wave of heat and ice, swirling together in unimaginable pain and pleasure, drowned and burned Harry simultaneously. The lace of his shorts was loosened, then they were pushed down until they fell off his leather boots. He was thus revealed to the smoldering eyes of Snape for the first time. The smile that trickled over that harsh face was enough to make the younger grin back. The smile vanished, however, when the warmth of his beloved drew away from him. His eyes widened until it hurt, his heart stopping altogether, as the professor began to undo the clasp of his own slacks. They were undone then and as they were inched down in seductive slow motion, it was clear that he wore nothing underneath. As soon as that had registered, he was undressed and standing naked in front of the teen.

If the flames of Hell had scorched Harry’s heart when the shirt had been removed, then they torched his very soul, his very essence, when the pants were off. He felt his body going utterly numb as all thought died completely within his overwhelmed mind. He didn’t breathe, he didn’t move, he didn’t think. He couldn’t, for nothing was processing beyond the beauty of that which was in front of his eyes. As Snape smirked for what must of been a blank stale of pleasure of an expression, Harry was melted for the heat that was no longer just in his face. His stomach bubbled, his limbs tightened, his shoulders clenched, his lungs collapsed, and his eyes expanded. There was nothing in his mind but the image that would never leave it, and still his mouth moved. Words that sounded choked and desperate dripped into the heavy air that hung about that bed.

“ Please. Take me,”

With that, Snape crossed the distance and straddled Harry fully, the two of them moving back until they were off the edge of the bed. The professor licked his fingers, his dark eyes never leaving the red face of the teenager shaking so violently for the anticipation of this union. When slick, Snape gripped those curvy hips. Harry’s back was arched, his toes couldn’t touch the sheets as the height difference was much more dramatic in bed then at the door. His heeled feet were thus swung over Snape’s shoulders, his toes overlapping less then an inch. His arms bent, fingers gripped the sheets, as he was angled. Every second, his heart skipped beats, his blood rushed to his skull, and this spell threatened to overthrow his existence and plunge him into an everlasting darkness from which he could never escape.

Harry’s scream roared to life as he was penetrated for the very first time in his life. Stars overtook his vision, bursts of white erasing the dark room from his vision. Pain that could only be expressed as pleasure shot through his body. His back twisted, his feet straightened, and he screamed as loudly as he could. Every muscle clenched from numb toes to the hands that were digging into the sheets. His head slammed into the bed, his glasses fell from his face, and all he could do was shriek as tears formed in his eyes. His reaction brought a low laugh from his lover, which run over his flesh like the silk of the sheets. Ice poured into his overheated form, his body already trembling.

The thrusting then began. Harry let out a cry with each one as Snape pushed himself inside and then pulled himself out, using only his hips to do so. His hands, they shoved nail into the boy’s legs and held on tight as he gasped and panted over the quivering form of the virgin no longer. The rhythm was found instantly. A quick thrust, a slow removal, then faster, harder, until the younger’s back was fully arched and he could screech no longer. The spot, that spot, deep inside him was struck as the passion built around him. Before he could fully enjoy it, though, the foreplay of their sexual encounter was over. His legs were bent to his chest as his vision began to return. He moaned and shivered as sweat rolled down his body while the image of his lover swam to the surface. He took in the light flush of that face right before the look was gone from his view.

Gentle as it was rough, Harry was forced over onto his stomach, Snape never leaving him. His head was held down, his cheek pushed into his arm as fingers gripped his hair. A whisper fell into the hot air, informing him not to move, as the other hand that commanded him gripped his hip. As he gasped and struggled to look over his shoulder, Snape pulled almost all the way out. When he shoved himself back in, Harry cried out, his body jumping at the sudden thrust. His eyes began to roll backwards as he heard the excited panting of his lover all around him. Every thrust made the still heat of the room swirl about them as moans and cries echoed out in loudly quiet submission to a much greater force. Sweat fell onto his back as nails punctured his skin, the salt immediately burning into his flesh in painful heat that brought a weak smile to his quivering lips. The sticky liquid ran over his skin slowly as his head swam with the sheer sensation of that cock inside him. Too much, he found his brain shrieking, as he struggled to breathe. He couldn't. He couldn't even comprehend breathing as the fire that had always been there roared over his flesh in waves that mimicked the frantic beating of his heart. Ice splashed through his stomach, heavier and heavier in feeling, while he snatched that the fleeting air pounding into his skull while his lover pumped harder, faster into his tender ass. Then, his hands grabbed at the sheets as that spot within was found amongst the new position, a shrill cry squeezing out of his raw throat. Snape’s panting grew harder as he did within the tight regions of his lover. Harry’s back arched, he attempted to move to meet his lover, to bring once more that roaring agony. The hand at his head yanked his skull backwards and he was met with the blurred but clear image of a beautifully pleased face, smiling down at him. As he was violated, moaning weakly, he was kissed full on, his back bending painfully for the embrace.

White washed that flushed face from Harry’s vision as he was forced onto his knees. Two knees laid around one of his as his back was pulled against the other’s chest. The contact was the equivlent of a match to gasoline, such was the burst of flame that threatened to end the younger's life altogether. He gasped as he felt that burning skin against his own, felt his lover being thrust inside. The penetration was that much deeper and he groaned into the kiss as he shook. His hands reached back and locked around the head of his beloved as he leaned to the side so they could kiss. Just as he was beginning to run his tongue over the older’s, however, his body gave out. In quivering pain, he collapsed back into the sheets, unable to rise as he could barely stand the pressure of the heavy air. Snape’s hands grabbed at his waist, nails cutting into the skin, as he thrust himself in and out of his lover, whispering in that strong voice to stay down. Harry cried out, his wails growing louder and louder every time. The panting was all around him as his senses were awoken by the spell that voice created.

Every pant echoed deep within his head, always and forever as the silk became slippery with their sweat and his blood. Pain was sprinkled all over, from his entrance being pumped so passionately, and from the marks of their union that would probably scar. His body was numb in sections, his feet unknown to him in his heavy boots. The air was thick and stuck to his body as he trembled and convulsed according to the pounding inside him. Cinnamon and sugar and chocolate and salt hung in the air, swirling about his head. He was drowned in icy waters and burned in fiery embers that ran from his head to his ankles. Tears hurt his eyes as they poured down his face in ecstacy, his voice vanishing then as that spot was struck harder and surer then before. As his voice was gone, his world was consumed by the sounds of his lover. He felt those hands caressing his broken skin, touching him as he’d always wanted them too. The feel of them was soft for the union and hard for the years of work Snape had done before meeting this teen. Contradictions galore, this moment in time would never be forgotten. Every bit of it was cast upon the subconscious and memory of the younger like a spell on his body and mind. Overthrown by it then, his voice gone, his felt his eyes rolling back into his skull.

A wet tongue danced over his back and then teeth shot into his shoulder. A thrust hit that spot in perfect time with the bite and a convulsion bent Harry in half. He cried out, his voice exploding from his throat as if forced to do so. His hands snatched at the sheets, found none, and he was left dragging his nails over his own arms. His legs shook violently, pain radiating down into them. Every muscle burst, tore, and the pain of his greatest pleasure threatened to end this union.

Hands grabbed his shoulders, a finger dipping into the bite mark, and he was switched onto his back once more. The thrusting never stopped this time, growing faster and faster. Harry saw the red face of his love, staring deep into his eyes as though he could see every thought. The teen gripped that face and brought it down to his. Their tongues plunged into the other’s mouth, the younger’s hands kept at that strong jaw and the older’s splayed about his messy brown hair. Harry’s legs wrapped around that slender waist. Snape kissed him harder then before, switching positions often so that he might taste every bit of him. The boy himself found his head swimming in the taste of sugar and cinnamon and caramel. Then the kiss was over as he began to scream into the shoulder as one final thrust struck him deep within.

White hot fire unlike anything else sent Harry into a bout of convulsions as he came and he felt his lover cum inside of him. His face pressed deep into the nook of that neck, his fingers clenching around locks of hair. He heard a scream far off in his ear as the world detached itself from the boy’s vision. He was thrown head first into darkness as he collapsed on that bed, eyes unfocused and chest rising unsteadily. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t move. He could only choke and shake as he felt a tongue running over his neck. He weakly attempted to smile, found that he couldn’t, and then could only let his head drop to the side. The pain continued to radiate in his body as he heard a deep voice tell him to relax. He couldn’t answer. The next second, his world was black rather then white.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Harry came to, he was alone in a foreign room that was decorated with bottles of potions and other Dark objects. His body shivered from weakness and pain continued to trickle over his violated flesh. Bite marks glistened in the faded light of the morning, red and puffy as though they were preparing to scar. He didn’t mind if they did, for he found them to be the perfect edition to his form. Cautiously, then, he eased his body off the silky sheets stained in red and white. His boots made soft clicking sounds on the firm stone beneath him. A chill washed into the air as he bent down and scooped up his shorts. He pulled them on as best he could, tying them under his belly. Then he slowly crossed the room and slipped out the door. The room outside was covered in green and black objects that he didn’t bother to examine. Instead, he made his way over to the door. There, he picked up his corset and went through the motions to lace it. With it in place, he swept his cloak about his shoulders. He didn’t glance back. He merely walked out and quietly shut the door. There, he scooped up his Invisibility Cloak and pulled it on. He vanished from sight and thus made his way through the semi crowded halls of the early birds searching for breakfast.

This way, he made his way back to the dormitory. He found no one inside so he made quick work of getting up to the room and changing out of the bondage outfit. He hid the items in his trunk by placing them under his special cloak. Then he changed into some pajamas and climbed into bed, drawing the curtains around him. Softly, he sighed as he curled up, shaking violently for the effort of having walked from the dungeons all the way there under the circumstances. Yet, he couldn’t help but smile.

Now he not only knew the secret to his beloved, he also knew the secret as to why his angel had been so willing to help him into that bed. After having been so violated, so utterly satisfied, he would never be strong enough to brave those sheets again. He’d never been ravaged before, and still he knew that hadn’t been normal. The variety of positions, the sheer length of the union, the amount of foreplay, the passion of it all, it was too much to take over and over again. Draco knew this and thus had allowed his own heart’s desire to bed Snape. Now he would be able to ensnare Harry, for as much as he longed for their teacher’s affection, he could never take to his bed again. Perhaps one day, when he was older and more experienced, he would, he could. Considering the aches that lingered in his flesh, though, he knew he would have to be quite older for the very thought of their union brought on a slight convulsion by itself.

He felt his body grow hot and cold as he trembled on his safe sheets. He could taste those candy kisses, smell that intoxicating scent, feel those hands all over him, and he knew those sensations would never leave him. Every time he thought about Snape, he would be drowned in the memories of the time where they became one. Until the passion of that one union faded a bit, just a bit, he knew he would be unable to fulfill his duties. Truly, he would be satisfied for years to come. He knew now all the secrets to that man’s bed. He knew now why he had no constant lover. The emotion, the raw emotion, of coupling with him was like a spell without a cure.

Everlasting.

With that thought, with that knowledge, then, Harry closed his eyes to dream about the union he could never forget. His spell remained unbroken as he slipped into the embrace of his permanent lover. He knew, come the alarm and the classroom, the ice would be back in the eyes of his professor. He knew he would accept the advances of his angel, waiting so patiently. He knew he would never walk into that dim bedroom with those green sheets again. And he knew he would never have to. One night with Severus Snape would last him a lifetime.

That was fine with him, he thought, as darkness consumed him and hands with smelled like cinnamon and sugar encircled him deep within his dreams.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fin.