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Chapter Text

"You need an Alpha," Dumbledore said.

Harrie stared. And stared. The old wizard looked back at her, with his usual kind smile, although it looked a bit wobbly, as if he was trying to put on a confident face while the situation was rapidly spiraling out of his control.

"I need a what?" Harrie finally said.

"An Alpha."

It didn't make any more sense than the first time he'd said it.

"Why do I need a letter of the Greek alphabet?"

Dumbledore removed his spectacles and let out a small sigh.

"I told you you're an Omega," he said.

"Two minutes ago, which again, means nothing to me."

"It's a very rare biological oddity, linked to one's magic. Usually it lies dormant and manifests around eighteen years of age, as it has in your case. It's the reason for all the physical changes you've noticed, the hot flashes, the inflamed area on the side of your neck, as well as more um, intimate urges."

Harrie flushed. Dumbledore looked as though he would rather be anywhere else than explaining this to her.

"Omegas are very, very rare. As such, you will be extremely desirable to any Alpha."

"And what's an Alpha?"

"While Omegas are submissive, Alphas are dominant. They also tend to be aggressive, powerful, and very possessive of their Omegas."

"I still don't see why I need one."

Need. She sensed there was a great deal of things hidden in that one little verb.

Dumbledore put his glasses back on. His smile devolved into a sort of grimace. Harrie braced herself for whatever he was gonna say. She had a feeling it would be pretty horrible.

"Voldemort is an Alpha, and when he learns you're an Omega, he will want to claim you."

Yeah, about that horrible.

"Claim me," she said. "As in..."

"Quite, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, looking very uncomfortable.

Harrie shuddered, disgust squirming in her gut. A series of awful half-formed images popped into her head. She pushed them away.

"Now, if you were already claimed, it would be different," Dumbledore said. "With the scent of another Alpha on you, Voldemort wouldn't seek to touch you."

"You mean he'd respect a prior claim... the scent of another?"

"Yes. I believe that would deter him very effectively. Voldemort is the type of Alpha that likes to be the first, and prefers his prizes to remain unspoiled. Were he to sense another Alpha has already laid claim to you, he would simply kill you."

"Great," Harrie said.

It sounded so outlandish. Scent and claiming, Alpha and Omegas, but Harrie was used to having her life turned upside down by unusual happenings. She was even kind of an expert at it.

"Alphas are a rare breed, almost as rare as Omegas," Dumbledore said. "Fortunately, I know of one Alpha who will be able to assist you with this delicate matter."

"Do I know him?"

"Yes, Harrie, you do."

Harrie wrinkled her nose. She didn't want anyone to claim her, but if it was someone whom she knew, then perhaps it would be a tad less awful.

At this moment, the door to Dumbledore's office creaked open. Harrie turned as Snape entered the room.

"You called for me, Headmaster?" he drawled in a bored, detached voice.

Their eyes met. He stared at her, nostrils flaring, then he drew back, actually recoiling from her, as if he couldn't stand being in the same room as her. Snape usually looked at her with some measure of antipathy, but outright revulsion was something new. Harrie sent him a murderous glare. Why was he here anyway?

"Yes, Severus, I did," Dumbledore said. "I'm sorry, but there is a rather urgent matter. Harrie presented as an Omega earlier this evening."

"I can see that," Snape replied, now scowling at her. "Was it not enough being the savior of the wizarding world, Potter? You had to turn out to be an Omega too."

"I had no choice in both cases," Harrie grumbled.

She remained locked in a glaring contest with Snape until Dumbledore spoke again.

"I do not need to explain what would happen if Voldemort found out. However, if Harrie were to be already claimed..."

Snape gave a sort of grunt.

"If I must," he said.

Harrie's brain screeched to a halt, all thought processes abruptly slamming into a brick wall.

"Wait, wait, you mean him? He's the Alpha that would—"

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her.

"No, no, absolutely not!" Harrie said, looking back at Dumbledore in desperation. "There has to be another option!"

"There are no other Alphas available, Harrie," Dumbledore said in the reassuring tone he used to issue bad news.

"He can't be the only Alpha."

Her protest sounded like a whine. She was too rattled to be embarrassed about it.

"I'm not," Snape said, "but I do happen to be the one most qualified one for the job, and trust me Potter, I don't say that lightly. In fact, I would be delighted to foist you upon another Alpha, and wash my hands of this entirely."

"Then do it!" Harrie growled. "I'll take anyone else, really. Like... like Draco. Isn't he one? An Alpha?"

Snape gave her a piercing look.

"And how did you come upon that conclusion?"

"I just... it's a feeling."

"A feeling," Snape said with open disdain. "While by sheer luck, you happen to be right, and young Mister Malfoy is indeed an Alpha, he would not be suitable for this task. He's so young he might lose control, and Voldemort might not even respect his claim anyway."

"Lose control? What do you mean, lose control?"

It was Dumbledore who answered.

"Young Alphas are more susceptible to give in to their primitive urges. I'm afraid Severus is quite right, and Draco would not show the restraint needed. He might become too enthusiastic, and forget himself."

Something grew cold in the pit of Harrie's stomach.

"Draco wouldn't... do that," she said weakly.

He was many things, and not a good person, but she couldn't imagine he'd sexually assault her.

"Alpha hormones are very powerful, known to overwhelm the inexperienced," Dumbledore said. "Certainly young Draco wouldn't meant it, but he would hurt you, Harrie."

"Or more likely," Snape said, "you'd hurt him fighting him off. We'd find him bleeding out again, and we'd still have this conundrum on our hands."

"So it has to be you," Harrie groaned.

"Unfortunately, yes. I assure you there will be no loss of control or enthusiasm on my part, Potter."

She rubbed her face, grimacing.

"So, how does it work? Doing it once is enough, right?"

"Once a week, I'm afraid," Snape said.

Her entire face flooded with heat.

"We're gonna need to have sex every week?" she squeaked.

She'd been ready for it to happen once, since doing it with Snape was vastly preferable to anything happening with bloody Voldemort. She'd close her eyes, she'd let it happen, and it would be done. Perhaps she'd ask to be Obliviated afterward, too. But she'd never imagined it would have to be a regular thing.

Snape made an annoyed noise, the kind he usually issued when a student had asked a particularly stupid question in his class.

"Who said anything about sex?"

"I assumed—"

"You assumed wrong," he said, giving her the hard, stony stare that came after the noise. "As you often do, Potter. Please use what few brain cells you have, and refrain from making assumptions on a subject you appear to know not much about."

She ground her teeth, swallowed back the objection that the subject in question wasn't taught at Hogwarts, and that it was the first time she was hearing about it at all.

"Then how will you claim me?"

"I'll have to lick you." His cold voice dipped into polar tones. "Believe me when I say I'll hate it as much as you will."

Lick her. Much more acceptable than what she had imagined. Except...

"Lick me where?"

"Your scent gland, on the side of your neck. Merlin, Albus, haven't you explained anything to her?"

"I was getting to it," Dumbledore said.

Harrie brushed a finger against her scent gland. It was a small patch of skin on the left side of her neck, which was very sensitive and appeared to be slightly throbbing. When she pressed down on it, it tingled pleasantly.

"Don't touch it like that," Snape said, almost in a growl.

"Why?"

"It's indecent," he said, a muscle working in his jaw.

Harrie dropped her hand, blushing again. So she had essentially been fingering herself in front of Snape. What a wonderful evening she was having.

"This cannot wait, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You should do it tonight."

"I'm aware," Snape replied tersely. "Potter, come."

She very much did not want to come.

"Why can't we do it here?"

"It's a private matter," Snape said. "There is some politeness to adhere to. Come on now, this won't take long."

She got up reluctantly.

"I'd recommend a heat-suppressant potion as well, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"I was already planning on it."

"Do I want to know what that is?" Harrie said morosely.

"I'll explain," Snape said.

She followed him to his office. He walked quickly, leaving her straggling a few feet behind. She entertained the thought of running away, wondered how he would react. He'd probably curse her, deduct a hundred points from Gryffindor, and then lick her anyway. It had to happen. At least he'd make it quick.

She entered his office like she had many times before for her Occlumency lessons. This time, the soft click of the door closing made a shiver run down her spine.

Snape rummaged through a cabinet full of potions, pulled one out, thrust it into her hands.

"Drink it. It'll stop you from going into heat."

"Into heat, like a dog?"

"Precisely like a dog," he said with a little smirk, like he was finding it funny. "You'd get overwhelmed by the need to mate with the closest Alpha, which is a fate I imagine you're eager to avoid. Not to mention it would be dangerous for yourself and the unlucky Alpha, and it would render my claiming of you null and void, wasting my sacrifice."

She chose not to remark on his word choice.

"Why have I never heard of Alphas and Omegas before?"

"Like I said, it's a private matter. It only concerns a small subset of the magical population, and the manifestations of that difference are mostly sexual in nature. You haven't heard of it for the same reason you're not going to speak publicly about this. Nor will I."

He sighed through his nose, as if explaining all this to her was an immense burden.

"Now drink that potion before I pour it down your throat, Potter."

She uncorked the bottle, gave the potion a cautious sniff, immediately grimaced. When she took a long swallow, the taste was even worse than the smell.

"Is it supposed to taste that bad?"

"I'm terribly sorry it's not up to your high standards," Snape said, his tone so dry it rivaled the Sahara. "I tend to focus on efficiency, not taste."

"I have to drink it all, don't I?"

"Yes."

Holding her breath, she downed the rest of the bottle. Snape snatched the empty flask from her hand, sneering at her.

"Every week as well," he said, no doubt relishing the idea of making her suffer.

"Can't you make a potion that will stop me from being an Omega?"

"A ridiculous notion. There is no potion that could accomplish such a thing, just as there is no potion that could stop you from being a witch. Both are in your nature. And don't complain that your life is unfair, Potter, I don't want to hear it."

"Fine, I won't." She crossed her arms. "Go on, then. Lick me."

Ugh, had she just said that to Snape? Her only consolation was that he seemed just as reluctant as she was.

"Sweep back your hair and present your gland," he said. "I'd rather touch you as little as possible."

She gathered her hair to the side, and tilted her head so he could lick her scent gland unimpeded. He approached, holding himself stiffly. Tension coiled in the pit of her belly, twined with disgust. She really didn't want to get licked, by anyone, least of all Snape.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered as he was bending down.

"Somehow you keep finding ways of making my life hell," he said lowly.

"I didn't do anything! I—"

Snape's nose brushed her skin just below her ear, and the rest of the words got stuck in her throat. She went very still, barely breathing. A prickle danced along the back of her neck, sneaking down her spine. Then there was a light contact against her scent gland, something wet and hot and God, he was doing it.

Actually licking her.

She drew back as soon as he was done, glared at him for good measure. He glared right back.

"Hold still, you silly girl! We need to do this thoroughly."

"You just did!"

"I barely touched you. This has to be a proper scent marking, so that any Alpha sniffing at you will have no doubt that you're mine."

"So you're gonna slobber all over my neck?" she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, Potter, because I have to. I will not be responsible for a half-baked claiming. Stand still, and don't squirm."

She tilted her head again, clenching her fists at her sides. So stupid. Snape hovered close, licked her again, this time longer, with more pressure. She did her best not to flinch. His tongue didn't relent. He pressed it flat against her scent gland, in a long, slow pass, and then she felt his lips there, and she had the sudden thought that he was going to bite her. Closing her eyes, she exhaled sharply. There would be no biting. He would have warned her.

His tongue was so hot. And slimy. Oh, she wasn't even gonna be allowed to wash his saliva away, would she? No, that would need to stay, along with his scent. Goddamnit, what was happening to her life? As if having the threat of Voldemort constantly looming over her wasn't bad enough...

Snape licked her again, which was at least the sixth time. Harrie exercised all of her willpower to remain still. His tongue withdrew, except for the very tip, which lingered, barely touching her. A strange shudder spread down her spine, followed by a tingling tension low in her stomach. She frowned, but before she could ponder the sensation further, Snape drew back.

"It's done," he said, stepping away from her.

"Can I wash my scent gland?" she asked, without any hope the answer would be yes.

"Absolutely not," Snape said, in a dry, cutting tone. "Haven't you been listening to me, Potter? This isn't an academic matter where you can allow yourself to be mediocre. This is important, meant to ensure that—"

"That Voldemort doesn't rape me. I got that."

"Yes," he said, a bit more softly, which really wasn't much. "So don't wash it. We'll take care of that before renewing the scent marking next time. And keep it covered, unless you want people asking questions."

"Will people know I'm an Omega if they see it?" she asked, curious.

It looked like a patch of skin redder than the surrounding area. If she'd seen that on another girl, she would have assumed a bad mosquito bite, or an allergic reaction.

"Not the Muggle-borns, and probably not any half-bloods either. The pure-bloods might, and any other Alpha will recognize it on sight. So I insist, Potter, keep it covered in public."

"With what?" she said reflexively, annoyed at the command in his tone.

First he was licking her, and now dictating her clothing choices?

"It's November, you can get away with wearing a scarf indoors without raising any eyebrows. You'll probably start a trend."

"Fine," she groused.

"I'll expect you back here in a week, at eight p.m. Don't be late."

He turned away, dismissing her without a word. She hesitated. She didn't want to stay here one second longer than necessary, but...

"Are you sure it worked?"

Snape sent her a frustrated glance.

"I don't feel any different," she added. "There's no scent."

At least none she could detect aside from the smell of Snape's office, which was always the same, some sort of vaguely metallic, acidic scent. It smelled like the detergent they used to wash cauldrons, which rubbed her hands raw every time. She rather thought it matched Snape's personality.

"It worked, I can assure you," he said stiffly. "Now get out."

She left without further protest. The walk back to Griffyndor's tower from the dungeons was long, but at this hour, the corridors were mostly deserted. Harrie only saw a couple of other students from afar. She was almost to the Fat Lady's portrait when she ran into Hannah Abbot. Her Head Girl badge was proudly displayed on her robes, and she gave Harrie a smile.

"Out late, Harrie?"

"Dumbledore wanted to see me."

At that, Hannah frowned, and Harrie realized a bit too late that the staircase she had emerged from didn't line up with that excuse.

"...and then I got hungry and swung by the kitchens," she added.

"Late night snacks are the best," Hannah said.

Had she noticed her scent gland? It seemed to Harrie she had glanced at her neck for just a second. Pretending to scratch herself, Harrie covered the whole area with her hand.

"The best," she agreed awkwardly.

Did Hannah know? But she was a half-blood, and Snape had said they weren't likely to recognize a scent gland. Unless she was an Alpha? No, Harrie didn't get that sense from her. It was like there was something inside her that could tell Alphas apart. She'd guessed right about Draco, and she hadn't been surprised Snape was one. She was pretty sure Marcus Flint was an Alpha as well... and Victor Krum, too. Yes, it felt that way.

Girls were trickier... oh. Harrie grimaced. Bellatrix, definitely.

"Well, good night, Harrie," Hannah said, tearing her away from all thoughts about Alphas.

"'Night, Hannah."

It didn't matter who was what, anyway. She was stuck with Snape.

She trudged on.

"The password, dear?" the Fat Lady asked.

"Cream puff," Harrie said.

The portrait pivoted to let her pass. Keeping a hand on her neck, she passed through the common room quickly and made her way upstairs, to bed.

Once safely tucked away under the blanket, she allowed herself to sigh. Her scent gland tickled for real now, and she didn't even know if she could scratch it, or if that would mess up Snape's scent. With a growl, she buried her face into her pillow.

Why did it have to happen? Why couldn't she have a normal life?

And could Voldemort hurry up already and attack soon so she wouldn't have to get licked weekly by Snape?

Chapter Text

"Harrie, are you all right?"

Peering at her from across the breakfast table, Hermione looked concerned. Harrie forced herself to put on a smile.

"Yeah, just tired."

Snape licked me.

"You look out of sorts," Hermione said, with more concern.

"I think I might be coming down with something."

He licked me.

"Is that why you're wearing a scarf?" Ron asked between two mouthfuls of porridge.

It was one of the scarves knitted by Molly and gifted to her last Christmas, the wool scratchy but warm.

"Yes," she said.

He. Licked. Me.

"Do you want me to accompany you to the infirmary?" Hermione offered.

"That won't be necessary, but thanks."

"Okay. I hope you're ready for our first period."

What day was it? Thursday. First period on Thursdays was... Potions.

Crap.

Crap, crap, crap.

"I'm not ready," she whined.

"Yeah, and Snape looks in a foul mood this morning," Ron said. "I mean, even more than the usual."

Harrie pointedly did not look toward the professors' table. She didn't want to see Snape. She didn't want to think about Snape. If she could have skipped Potions safely she would have, but one didn't skip classes because one got licked by her professor. Unfortunately.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Hermione said, although she didn't sound convinced.

Ten minutes later, Harrie was heading toward the dungeons, walking as slowly as she could manage without it being suspicious.

"Come on, we're gonna be late," Ron still said.

Getting late would make things worse, wouldn't it? Because then Snape would comment upon it, and deduct points from Griffyndor, and possibly glare at her like she was an unseemly stain on his favorite robes (did he even have favorite robes?).

Harrie resumed walking at a normal pace, resigned to her fate. She would suffer this morning. She always suffered during Potions anyway. It wasn't like Snape would say anything about the events of last night. If there was one thing he was good at, it was keeping secrets. And nobody could tell by looking at her that he'd been licking her.

Perhaps it would just be a normal Potions class.

That hope lasted about ten seconds, and then Snape scolded her coldly while deducting five points from Griffyndor for 'opening her book too early', which wasn't a valid reason no matter which way you looked at it.

"But, sir..." she said.

"Talking back, Potter? That will be another five points deduction."

Someone laughed faintly behind her. Malfoy, of course. She hung her head and kept her eyes down.

"So unfair," Ron muttered to her when Snape couldn't hear, while Hermione sent her a sympathetic look.

The rest of the class wasn't much better. She struggled with the Fire Protection potion they had to make. It was supposed to be a deep orange color, with swirls of gold, and instead her potion was a murky green flecked with brown specks. How she wished she still had the half-blood Prince's Potions manual. But the book had disappeared from her belongings at the start of the term, stolen, she suspected, and now she was forced to use a perfectly normal, perfectly unhelpful manual.

Stir three times counterclockwise, wait for three minutes before adding the nettle juice...

She followed the instructions, watched her potion turn entirely black. What a complete failure. Glancing at her friends, she saw Ron had managed to achieve a reddish-brown coloration, while Hermione's potion was the exact tint it was supposed to be, a lustrous golden-orange.

"Abysmal work, as usual, Potter," Snape said as he came by to inspect her potion.

"I hate Potions," she lamented once they were out of the classroom. "I hate Snape."

"Right there with you, mate," Ron said. "It's torture, pure and simple."

You know what else is torture? Being licked by Snape.

But she didn't voice her thoughts. She didn't want to talk about being an Omega, didn't want to think about being an Omega. If she ignored it, maybe it would go away.

The week passed swiftly, and all the while Harrie pretended her life hadn't changed. She would have almost believed it, if not for the scarf she now wore everywhere, and the renewed hatred Snape exhibited toward her. He'd always been callous and cold, but now he was vicious, deducting points for outlandish reasons, criticizing every single move she made in his classroom.

"You must have done something that really pissed him off," Ron remarked one morning during breakfast. "Even now he's glaring at you."

Harrie looked toward the professors' table. Snape was indeed glaring, spectacularly, leading Harrie to wonder if he was trying to cast a silent, wandless Avada.

"You should talk to Dumbledore," Hermione said. "Everyone can see he's singling you out. It's not fair."

"Yeah, I will," Harrie said reflexively, without meaning it.

She knew why Snape was looking at her like he wanted to murder her: a week had gone by, and tonight he would have to lick her again.

Her life sucked.

Sucked, sucked, sucked.

Eight p.m. neared, and Harrie descended into the dungeons. She knocked on the door of Snape's office, hoping he wouldn't be in here, hoping he had forgotten about it, or decided the scent marking could wait until next week.

Her hopes were cruelly smashed by the deep baritone of Snape's voice.

"Come in."

He seemed to be busy grading essays, finished writing what must have been a scathing remark considering the frown in his brow, then set his quill aside and rose from his desk.

"Remove that horrid scarf," he said, glaring at her like she had spat in his morning pumpkin juice.

She complied, started rubbing at her neck before she caught herself.

"Are you trying to get us noticed?" she said.

"I have no idea of what you mean."

"You've been odious with me all week. People have eyes and ears, and they have mouths too, which they're using to ask a lot of questions, such as 'Harrie, did you do something to piss off Snape?'"

"My behavior toward you hasn't changed."

She snorted derisively.

"And I'm in Slytherin," she said.

"That would have made my life a lot easier," Snape returned. "Here, drink."

He shoved a potion into her hands. She had completely forgotten about that part, so focused had she been on the licking.

"Are those potions 100% effective?"

"Heat-suppressant potions are a tricky thing. The best potioneers around the world are still coming up with ways to improve them. They need to be brewed over a week, require the most carefully selected ingredients lest they fail entirely, and they can only be correctly prepared by Alphas, which as you can imagine complicate matters immensely."

Harrie looked down at the potion. Knowing all that...

"How much do they cost?" she said.

"About fifty Galleons a bottle."

"What," Harrie said, gaze snapping back up to Snape.

He said nothing, staring at her.

"How do people pay for this? Fifty Galleons every week, that's... two thousand Galleons a year. No, more."

"Your grasp of basic arithmetics is truly astounding."

"I'm serious. This is an insane budget. How do other Omegas handle it?"

And was she supposed to pay him?

"Most Omegas come from wealthy, pure-blood families who can afford the cost," Snape said. "The others, less wealthy Omegas do without the potions and ride out their heats, either alone, or with a partner."

"Oh."

That was something that could be endured alone? Snape had made it sound like she'd go insane if she was in heat and she didn't... take care of it the way it was supposed to go.

She looked down at the potion again. Fifty Galleons, and it tasted like mud.

"So, do I write you a check, or..."

"Just drink the potion, Potter."

"But I don't—"

"Drink so we can be done with this," Snape said, and there was a growl to his words that made Harrie's spine tense up.

"No, listen!" she said, sticking her chin out and staring him in the eyes. "You're brewing those potions, so that means you must be selling them. Every potion I use is one you don't get to sell. I'm costing you money, and I don't want to."

She took a deep breath, trying not to glare at him, but making her intentions clear. He should have understood how she felt. Surely he would have felt the same in her position.

"I don't want to owe you anything, okay? So I'll pay you for the potions, each and every one."

Something weird happened. Snape smiled. A real smile, right there on his lips, for half a second. Then it turned mocking and acidic, the usual Snape smirk, and Harrie was instantly convinced she had hallucinated the other thing.

"How noble of you," he said. "But there's no need to trouble yourself with this. Dumbledore has already offered to compensate me for any loss in earnings related to your condition."

Harrie had been so ready to argue more that she deflated.

"Ah," she said, feeling stupid that she had failed to consider this.

"Naturally, I refused."

"Uh. Wait, why?"

He looked pained by her question, as if the answer ought to be obvious.

"I'm already being paid to be your professor, and that includes making sure your physical well-being isn't threatened enough that you'd be unable to attend my classes. A heat would incapacitate you for a week, and your grades are bad enough as they are."

"You're doing your job, is what you mean."

"Yes. Now drink the bloody potion. While you have no other obligations this evening, that is not my case and I'd like to get this over with so I can go back to grading essays."

She drank, and didn't complain about the taste. Snape grabbed a small towel, warned her he was going to clean her scent gland. She tilted her head, got her hair out of the way, picked a spot on the wall and stared at it so she wouldn't have to see his face and the disapproval stamped upon it.

"Why not a Scourgify?" she said as he meticulously swiped the damp, warm fabric over her scent gland.

"That's not how it's done."

"But it'd be quicker," she pointed out.

"There is a proper way to do these kind of things, Potter. You're not educated in this matter, so for once in your life, defer to your better and be quiet."

Her better? What an arsehole.

"It's the Alpha's job to take care of his Omega's scent gland," he added, actually lecturing her now.

"Let's get one thing clear: I'm not your Omega, and you're not my Alpha. And just because Omegas are naturally submissive doesn't mean I have to submit to you."

"It's in your nature," he said with an exasperated sigh. "You can't will yourself out of being a Gryffindor anymore than you can will yourself out of being an Omega, and therefore, a submissive."

"Respectfully, sir, you're full of shit."

She caught the glare of his teeth out of the corner of her eyes. That wasn't a smile. He pressed the towel harder than necessary against her neck, and she winced, a small sound slipping from her lips. A whine. Why was she whining?

"Does it hurt?" Snape said, only there was none of the mockery Harrie expected in his voice.

She glanced back at him, eyes narrowed.

"Answer me, Potter. A painful scent gland is one of the early signs of heat."

"No, it doesn't hurt. I don't like you touching me, that's all."

That was a better explanation than I don't know what the hell happened, please don't point out I whined.

He removed the towel, threw it aside. Then he was bending down and licking her without so much as a warning. She heard herself gasp at the shocking heat of this tongue. His scent washed over her, one strong wave of that metallic, caustic smell. It wasn't unpleasant.

What I am thinking, of course it's unpleasant! It's Snape's!

But it wasn't. The fragrance wrapping around her body was nice, and she inhaled it in a deep breath, taking her time to enjoy it. Assuredly, she was losing her damn mind.

Snape dragged the flat of his tongue over her gland again. Her heart fluttered in her ribcage, every muscle in her body trembling to attention. A strange heat was spreading into her chest, and lower. She closed her eyes, stopped herself from breathing more of that scent for a moment. What did it feel like that? What was happening?

When Snape licked her once more, she nearly made that sound again, a pitiful little noise that she blocked behind her teeth. Her head swam. She was sweating in her robes, like her body had become a furnace.

What is this? What—

She opened her eyes, desperately tried to focus on anything else that wasn't Snape. Her gaze stopped on a jar in the upper shelves that contained the deformed body of an albino rat, floating in liquid. She convinced herself that this was fascinating, much more deserving of her attention than what Snape was doing to her.

Dead rat, dead rat, dead rat...

Snape's tongue pressed down, and...

Dead rat.

...it was so hot, searing her, and...

Dead raaaaat.

...so wet, and she could feel every minuscule shift in pressure, his lips brushing her skin, his breath against her neck, and there was an ache between her legs that she couldn't pretend was anything but—

"Stop," she gasped.

He drew back, abruptly. She got a glimpse of the tip of his tongue before he closed his mouth. His gaze lingered on her neck with unnerving intensity, his eyes blacker than she had ever seen them, two bottomless pools of ink. He exhaled sharply, through his nose.

"It will be enough," he said.

He looked angry. Even more than that, he looked downright repulsed. Of course. He was disgusted and trying not to vomit. She would have been, too, if she had to lick him. In fact, in his place, she would have refused. But he had gone along with Dumbledore's suggestion, and he was losing money, and...

Now she understood why he had called it a sacrifice.

Harrie wet her lips, said something she had never thought she'd say to Snape.

"Thank you."

There you go, universe. One impossible thing after another.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, staring at her like she had grown two heads.

"Thank you. For doing this, despite how disgusting it is. I... I appreciate it."

His face hardened, and she found herself the target of his usual glare.

"It's my job, Potter."

She nodded, putting her scarf back on.

"Good night, Professor."

She was nearly out of the door when he said her name. She turned back, anxiety knotting her stomach. What else could he possibly want?

"Before you leave, I need a strand of your hair."

"Um," she said, taken aback by the request. "What for?"

"The heat-suppressant potion is more effective when tailored specifically to the recipient. I'll brew you a personalized batch that will attain close to ninety-nine percent efficiency."

"Oh. Thanks."

Would the universe implode if she kept saying that?

She tugged off a strand of hair, gave it to Snape. Once she was out in the corridor and had closed the door behind her, she crept a hand under the scarf and poked at her scent gland. A wave of heat reverberated throughout her body, making her hiss. Okay, so it wasn't specific to Snape. Her gland was an erogenous zone. Great, great.

But there was still a slight problem.

Snape licked me and ...

She sighed at the glaring, obvious truth that there was no use denying.

And I didn't hate it.

Sorry, had she said a slight problem? She meant enormous. Big, gigantic problem. What if it happened again next time? What if Snape noticed? Had he noticed it now?

No.

Probably not.

No, he would have said something.

But what was she gonna do? It was one thing to get licked by Snape, quite another to like it. And she still hated him, so where had that come from? This had to be her Omega's side, reacting to Snape's Alpha side. Yes, that was it. Nothing more.

She grumbled on her way back to the dormitories, cursing biology for being such a bitch. The common room was half-full, and her arrival didn't go unnoticed. Hermione waved at her from her spot near the fireplace. She was playing chess with Ron, who appeared to be winning.

"Where were you?" she asked.

"In the library."

That got Hermione to frown.

"Harrie Potter, you have never once, in the seven years we've known each other, stayed late at the library to study."

"It's a very suspicious excuse," Ron said, as one of his knights knocked Hermione's remaining bishop down. "Obviously you don't have to tell us, but choose another one next time."

Harrie sighed.

"I do have something to tell you. But not here."

They isolated themselves in a small alcove. The space had curtains so they were out of sight of the other students, and it was Charmed with a silencing spell, ensuring complete privacy.

"Harrie, are you in trouble?" Hermione said.

"Sort of."

She lowered her scarf, showing her scent gland. Hermione looked at it with a blank expression.

"Oh," Ron said. "Oh, no."

"What do you mean, oh no?" Hermione said. "What is that? Did something bite you?"

"It's my scent gland," Harrie said.

"Harrie's an Omega," Ron said, the tip of his ears turning pink.

He seemed uncomfortable, looking anywhere but at her scent gland. That confirmed Harrie's fear that it was inherently sexual.

And Snape is licking it. Oh, God.

"Would any of you please start making sense?" Hermione groaned.

"Omegas are a very rare type of wizards or witches," Ron said. "And then you have Alphas, who are a bit more common, but still rare. I think it's like one percent of the total magical population?"

"Okay, but what does it mean?" Hermione said, crossing her arms and tilting her head impatiently at Ron.

"It's about..." Ron coughed. "...about dominance. Omegas are submissive, while Alphas are dominant."

"You mean sexually?" Hermione said.

Ron was now completely red-faced.

"I mean generally," he said, his voice nearly a squeak. "It's not something that's talked about, except between actual Alphas and Omegas."

Harrie quickly explained about Voldemort, the threat he posed to her as an Omega, and the solution with Snape.

"Snape," Ron said with a grimace of disgust.

"Yes, I know," Harrie agreed. "That's where I was. The scent marking needs to be renewed every week."

Hermione didn't ask about the details of said scent marking, while Ron looked vaguely ill, so he must have known.

"That's why he's being an arsehole to you," he said. "All Alphas are arseholes."

"Are they?" Hermione said. "How many Alphas do you know?"

"I've met only one, one of Mom's cousins, but they all share some personality traits. They're domineering, aggressive, and they like power. Of course You-Know-Who would be one. I think Grindelwald was one, too."

Hermione appeared to ponder that for a moment.

"Thanks for telling us, Harrie. It's apparently a really private matter, so you didn't have to."

"Yeah, and you really didn't need the added complication," Ron commented, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Tell me about it," Harrie mumbled.

Hermione tapped her foot on the floor, a pensive frown on her face.

"There must be a better solution than having Snape fake a claim over you," she said.

"Dumbledore thinks it's the best way," Harrie replied, shrugging.

Research, Ron mouthed at Harrie, a slight grin on his face.

"We'll go to the library tomorrow and research the subject," Hermione said in the next second, decisively and with a smile that said she was looking forward to it.

"Okay," Harrie said.

Hopefully they'd find something so Snape could stop licking her, or, alternatively, a book that stated in no uncertain terms that Omegas got aroused when their scent glands were touched, no matter who was doing the touching, including one's hated, abrasive Potions professor.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Hogwarts library had exactly one book on Alphas and Omegas. It was called Alphas and Omegas, a Comparative Perspective, and was located in the Magical Anomalies section, which was a bit hurtful. Harrie was already considered an anomaly for having survived the Killing Curse, and now she was also one because she was an Omega.

"Your Chocolate Frog Card is gonna be so special," Ron said, in an attempt at cheering her up.

Harrie wanted to answer that first she had to survive, to Voldemort and to Snape's licking, and that she was starting to doubt which of the two was the worst.

Hermione grumbled about the dearth of resources.

"You can't just have one source of data, it's going to be completely biased," she said, glaring at the book in a very un-Hermione way.

They sat down in a secluded corner, and looked at the book. Hermione offered it to Harrie first, but she shook her head.

"You read it," she said. "If there's some horrible things in there, I'd rather not know."

The first chapter defined the broad characteristics of Alphas and Omegas. They didn't learn anything they didn't already know, except an additional information at the end of one sentence that had Hermione pausing.

"Omegas are submissive and exceptionally..."

"Exceptionally what?" Harrie said, fearing the worst.

"Fertile," Hermione said with a pained grimace.

Harrie hid her face in her hands.

"I want to die," she lamented.

"It's, uh. It's a good thing for later?" Ron said hesitantly.

"Ron, I love you, but let's not discuss Harrie's fertility, okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

The second chapter was about the interactions between Alphas and Omegas. Hermione skimmed through it, shaking her head all the while.

"Courtship," she muttered, turning the page. "Still about courtship... oh, sexual congress. And there's diagrams. Really detailed diagrams. I'm sure you don't want to see those, Harrie."

"I don't."

"Onto the next chapter. Heats and ruts? Is this book serious?"

"Yeah, it's a thing that happens," Ron said. "I think it's related to the seasons?"

"Omegas go into heat four times a year, roughly at the start of each new season. However, an Omega's first heat can occur at any time. Proper precautions should be taken so the Omega doesn't injure themselves during their first heat... I'm sorry, Harrie. It looks like you'll have to worry about that too."

Harrie could feel herself blush.

"I'm taking a potion so this doesn't happen," she said.

"Okay, let's skip that entire chapter... Ah, claiming and scent marking. Let's see..."

She made small noises as she read.

"Mmm, I see... okay, okay... So, Alphas claim Omegas by marking them with their scent. There are rituals and traditions about it, with a whole etiquette, but essentially, it signals to other Alphas that the Omega is theirs, and deters them from encroaching." Hermione wrinkled her nose. "That's the verb the author uses. Encroaching, like you're a piece of land, Harrie. It's barbaric. You're not a prize to be claimed!"

Harrie smiled at Hermione's outrage on her behalf.

"Thanks, 'Mione. Does it say anything about the effects the claiming might have on the Omega? Does it influence how they see the Alpha?"

Ron side-eyed her, but whatever thoughts he was having he kept to himself, which was probably for the best, in Harrie's opinion.

Hermione quickly thumbed through the chapter.

"I don't see anything related to that question. There hasn't been much psychological insight so far. I don't think the author was an Alpha or an Omega himself... And the prose is so flowery, with far too many adverbs. I'd be ashamed to submit a paper that looked like that."

"Shocker," Ron said, smiling.

"One last chapter," Hermione said. "Mating. Wait, didn't we already cover that?"

"Different sort of mating," Ron said, looking out of the window like he had seen a particularly fascinating cloud.

Hermione read a bit in silence.

"Oh... it's sort of good news? I mean, for later, Harrie."

"Tell me."

"You can have a mate. It's... like a soulmate, I guess. When you mate to an Alpha, your magical signatures become entwined, and you can feel each other's thoughts and emotions."

"How does mating happen?"

Hermione looked uncomfortable.

"It's a sexual thing, isn't it," Harrie said.

"Yes. The Alpha has to bite the Omega's scent gland during, ah, sexual intercourse."

Harrie groaned, massaging her temples.

"Why would I want a mate anyway?" she said. "All Alphas seem pretty terrible people. Voldemort, Snape, Draco..."

"Draco?" Hermione said.

"Yes, he's one too."

"Course he is," Ron mumbled.

Hermione closed the book, sighed, her shoulders slumping.

"There must be nice Alphas out there," she said, giving Harrie a hopeful smile.

"I'll worry about it once Voldemort's dead. I don't suppose being an Omega gives me any special Dark Lord-killing powers?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Too bad, could really have used those."

"That was a waste of time," Ron said as they were exiting the library.

"Yeah," Harrie agreed.

Hermione looked frustrated, the way she did when she got stumped about an academic subject, which didn't happen often.

Later in the day, between two classes, she took Harrie aside.

"We need to consider the pure-blood angle," she said. "Ron couldn't tell us more than the book, but perhaps other pure-bloods might."

"Who are you thinking about?"

"Luna. I'll approach her, tell her I've come across the subject on my own, and that I'm trying to understand it better. If that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, sure."

Luna was knowledgeable about many surprising things. Maybe she could help.

*

The next day, Harrie was in the library, laboriously trying to complete her essay about the Dancing Plague of 1518 for her History of Magic class, when Luna appeared from behind the shelves.

"Hello, Harrie."

"Oh hi, Luna," Harrie said, gladly abandoning the sentence she had rewritten four times so far.

"I've heard you're looking for information on Omegas," Luna said, with a kind smile.

"Yes, I am."

"I hope you weren't too surprised to learn you're one yourself. That could be quite a shock for someone who had never heard about all that before."

Harrie opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.

"Hermione told you?"

"No. She asked me about Omegas and you've taken to suddenly wearing a scarf. Which I love, by the way. I've decided to do the same, see?"

Luna was indeed wearing a large mustard scarf, with one end dangling almost to the floor.

"It looks very good on you," Harrie said earnestly.

On Luna, it looked endearingly charming, something Harrie could never hope to achieve. The best she could do was 'hastily got dressed this morning and chose the first scarf available'.

"Thank you!" Luna said. "So, I have a book that could help. Several, actually, but I'll lend you the best one."

Harrie felt instant relief. She was gonna get answers! Everything would be all right!

And then she looked at the book Luna was handing her.

The title was, In her Alpha's warm embrace. The cover showed a large, muscled, bare-chested man with his very muscular arms wrapped around a young woman dressed scantily. Barely dressed at all, in fact.

"Um," Harrie said.

"It's the fourth book in the series," Luna said, "but I personally think it's the most enjoyable, and since it starts over with two new main characters, you won't miss any plot points by beginning with this one."

"Luna," Harrie said, still staring at the cover.

"Yes?"

"Is that... is that an erotic novel?"

"Oh. I suppose, yes. But I don't really read the sex scenes. You can skip them, too. It's the plot that interests me."

Harrie rubbed at her scar, feeling an incoming migraine.

"You read erotic novels for the plot," she said.

"Yes!" Luna confirmed enthusiastically. "You'll see, there's a twist in this one, and the ending is so romantic..."

"Okay," Harrie said, resigned at this point.

"It also deals with a lot of classic Alphas and Omegas problems, in a way you won't find in any textbooks. That's why I think it can really help you!"

"Sure. I'll read it."

What had she got to lose anyway?

"Great," Luna said. "And then when you're done with this one, I have the whole series in my trunk. I'll gladly lend you more!"

"Thanks."

There were smiling at each other when a cold voice interrupted the moment.

"Miss Lovegood, must I remind you the library is a place of study, and as such, the students expect silence, not your shrill voice disturbing their concentration."

Snape was standing there with a severe look on his face. Well, that was just his face, Harrie reflected. He always looked like that. Also she could smell him, and she still liked his scent, and why, why, why?

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I was just giving Harrie a book. I'll go now."

At the work 'book', Snape glanced down, and he saw. He saw the cover, and he saw the title, and Harrie blushed in mortified horror. She had never wanted to disappear into the ground so fiercely. Then Snape made a noise. It sounded like 'gbbrrlzz'.

And he fled.

Harrie watched in astonishment at the retreating black robes, until he had disappeared around a corner. She blinked.

"He really must not like books," Luna said with a shrug.

*

Later that night, with the curtains drawn on her bed so nobody could see her, Harrie stared at the book.

It really was a completely ridiculous cover. How could the man's arms be this muscular? It wasn't possible. Nobody was this muscled. And why did the woman have a such a tiny waist and such large breasts?

"Someone failed anatomy," she mumbled.

Unless that was how Omegas were supposed to look? Harrie glanced down at her own breasts, frowning. They were on the smaller side, and that had never bothered her. Would they grow now that she was an Omega? But that would have already happened, surely. Unless there were some delayed physical changes...

"Ugh," she groaned, thumping her head against the pillow.

She opened the book and started to read.

It was the smell she noticed first, before everything else. A luscious, overpowering scent that meandered to her nostrils and spoke to her deepest instincts. Her inner Omega flowered like a rose under the first rays of dew-kissed sunlight.

An Alpha. He was an Alpha, an enticing, mouth-watering Alpha. Her gland throbbed at the sight of him. Her core quivered, and the most unlady-like thoughts ran through her mind, out of control.

Even the wand he was currently pointing at her head didn't dampen her ardors.

"You smell very good for a bandit," she said.

He flashed a smile, so confidently cocksure that she wanted to slap it off his face.

"Step out of the carriage, my Lady," he ordered.

She obeyed, noting the useless members of her escort all passed out on the forest floor. The Alpha's companions were waiting on horses nearby, wands out.

"What do you intend to do with me, scoundrel?"

"I shall hold you for ransom," the Alpha said. "Your father the King will pay a handsome price for your safe return."

He uttered an incantation, and a length of rope twined itself around her wrists. She leveled a haughty glare at him, despite the sudden pounding of her heart, and the terrible, delicious thought that she was now tied up and at his mercy.

"Do not be so sure," she said.

"Where is your wand?"

She did not reply. He cocked his head, his domineering gaze wracking the entire length of her body. Then he stepped close, and she nearly swooned at the heady scent that enveloped her. Her breasts heaved, her heart beating like a frightened bird in her chest.

"Ah, there it is," the Alpha said.

He plucked her wand from her hair, where it had been holding her bun. Her curls fell down in loose waves around her shoulders.

"You shall not hold me long," she said, even as she drowned in his scent.

"We'll see, little Omega."

Rowena was quite sure she would be able to escape, given time.

But she didn't know what secrets the bandit himself was hiding...

Harrie yawned, putting the book away. So apparently the attraction to an Alpha smell was a natural reaction. It didn't mean anything that she liked how Snape smelled now.

That's reassuring, she thought before she fell asleep.

*

"Are you trying to kill yourself, Potter?"

"No, sir."

"Then why are you holding your knife this way? The blade is to be held away from your wrist, not towards it."

"Yes, sir."

She reversed her grip, resumed peeling her Asphodel root.

It was another Potion class. Snape was still horrible to her, though less than in the past week. He was back to his usual level of antipathy toward her.

I hate you, she thought at his back as he moved away.

Maybe she ought to mention Luna's book next time he approached her. The thought had her smiling. Then she flushed, because Potion class was really not the place to think about the erotic book one was reading.

"Hey, Potter," Draco whispered behind her.

She pretended she hadn't heard anything.

"Who is it, Potter?"

Steadily ignoring him.

"Who is leaving so many hickeys on your neck that you have to wear a scarf?"

Oh. Nobody has said anything about her wardrobe choice so far, but recently she had caught some Slytherins looking at her and whispering among themselves. So that was the current gossip.

"Mister Malfoy, I see several unpeeled roots at your table," Snape's drawling voice interjected. "I suggest you switch your focus to your hands instead of your mouth."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy grumbled.

It wasn't often Snape reprimanded students of his own House, and even less often that it was Malfoy. Harrie paused for a second before continuing her work. He was protecting himself, that was all. Perhaps nobody even knew he was an Alpha, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Nothing to do with me, Harrie concluded.

*

"How are you finding your accommodations, my Lady? Is everything to your liking?"

Rowena stomped her foot, wishing she could wipe the smirk off Julian's face.

"Everything is horrible!" she said. "And without my wand, I have to do everything by hand, like a Muggle. Do you know how long it takes to wash with a soap and a bucket of water?"

"If you need assistance with that, I would be glad to help," Julian purred, his grin broadening.

She flushed all over, imagining his big hands roaming over her naked body. They would feel calloused, and her breasts would fit perfectly in his palms, and then they would head down and thrust between her legs where she was slick, and...

Suddenly Julian was pushing her against the wall, a growl on his lips. His large Alpha body caged her smaller frame. She was trembling at the feel of his strength .

"You test my patience," he rumbled.

His nose brushed her scent gland, a tantalizing touch that she felt down to her most secret lady parts.

"I have given you options, Omega, but do not think I am blind to the way you look at me. You want me to make you submit. You want to be my mate."

His husky voice made her inner Omega preen. She whimpered, her breasts heaving.

"Again?" Harrie said, staring at the page.

It was the third time in this scene alone. Were Omegas particularly susceptible to pulmonary problems? Could breasts even heave? Maybe the author really liked large breasts. Given the amounts of descriptions that the heroine's breasts got, Harrie was pretty sure it was a man writing, even if the name on the cover had to be a pseudonym. There was no way Seabert Syndercombe was a real name.

"I do not!" Rowena protested, but there was no use resisting her Omega instincts.

She wanted the Alpha to claim her, wanted him to bite down on her gland and make her his.

"Pretty little Omega," the Alpha groaned.

Rowena arched against him as his hand slipped under the skirt of her dress, his fingers finding her drenched slit, then the small pearl of her pleasure.

"You're making quite a mess down there. Is there something you want?"

He pressed his hips against hers, and she felt the evidence of his swollen manhood.

"Yes!" she cried out. "Yes, spear me with that big Alpha cock!"

Harrie let the book fall on her face, a sound of distress escaping her. She hadn't expected a sex scene so soon. It was only the third chapter, and the bandit and the princess had known each other for less than a day. And what were those words? Spear me? Alpha cock? Good God.

"Harrie? Everything all right?" Hermione called out from the next bed.

"Yes," Harrie answered quickly. "Sorry, I'm working on my History of Magic essay, and it's... frustrating."

Hermione made a sympathetic sound, even though she probably had already turned in her own essay already.

With a sigh, Harrie set the book aside, deciding she'd read the rest later. And maybe skip the sex scenes, too.

*

"What is it that's bothering you, Miss Potter?"

Harrie looked at McGonagall's serene face and for the third time in as many days, doubted her decision to go to her for information. Then she opened her mouth and said what she had been rehearsing in her head, because if she didn't she knew she'd regret it later.

"I have some questions on a sensitive subject, and I was wondering if you could help me with that."

McGonagall pursed her lips, considering her carefully.

"Is it about your new condition?"

"Oh, you know, good, I don't have to explain... wait, do all the professors know?"

"No. Only myself, Albus, and of course Severus are aware of this development."

"Okay. Anyway, I was wondering... is my body going to change?"

She had lowered her voice and almost whispered the question, despite the fact that the classroom was empty.

McGonagall looked embarrassed, and at a loss for an answer.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about Alphas and Omegas," she said. "I've never met any Omegas, and the few Alphas I crossed passed with I found uncouth and repulsive, so I avoided them. Not that those adjectives apply to Severus, stop smiling, Miss Potter. I didn't know he was an Alpha until recently."

Harrie sighed.

"So you don't know about heaving breasts and inner Omegas," she said.

McGonagall gave her a keen look.

"Miss Potter, have you been reading Seabert Syndercombe's books?"

Harrie made a strangled sound, almost choking on her own saliva.

"How do you know about that?" she said, suddenly finding the floor intensely fascinating.

"I happen to also enjoy his books."

The universe was conspiring to kill her. That was the only explanation. Death by increasingly impossible circumstances. Next Voldemort was gonna show up wearing a tutu.

"You... do?" Harrie said, keeping her voice even.

She wasn't gonna ask if McGonagall was also reading them only for their plot, because the answer was liable to send her running from the room screaming.

"Yes. But those books are fiction, and the narrative as well as the events described within are crafted to evoke a particular emotional response from the reader, and should not be considered reliable under any circumstances. Please tell me you didn't read them in an attempt at obtaining information about your Omega status."

Harrie made a small noise that McGonagall could interpret as she chose.

"I know this must be hard for you," the older witch said, sighing, "discovering that new side of yourself. But you already have a perfectly viable source of information at your disposition."

"Buh?" Harrie said.

"Severus has assured us that he could answer any questions you have. Why haven't you asked him?"

"Because he hates me," she said, grumbling the obvious.

McGonagall's face softened.

"Severus might hold some... resentment toward you, but he wouldn't let it affect his task. You can ask him all your questions, Miss Potter. He has intimated that he's very knowledgeable on the subject, so I would wager he will have an answer to even the most outlandish question."

"Why is he so knowledgeable?" Harrie said. "Has he... has he taken care of an Omega before?"

And why did she want the answer to be 'no'?

"He's regularly brewing heat-suppressant potions, and those require an intimate knowledge of an Omega's physiology, as I understand it. I don't know if he's had an Omega under his care before. He's a man of many secrets, and he doesn't open up easily, even to his colleagues."

"Yeah," Harrie said. "He's a mystery. A really prickly mystery."

"I encourage you to talk to him," McGonagall said. "I assure you you'll get much better information than from Syndercombe's books."

"All right," Harrie relented. "I will."

Their next meeting promised to be tense anyway.

*

She knocked on the door, waited for Snape's permission to enter.

"Good evening, Miss Potter."

"Evening, Professor."

She removed her scarf, scratching her collarbone which tickled. Snape's eyes followed her hand for a second, before they snapped back to her face. He held out a potion to her without a word.

"Is this the batch with my hair in it?" she asked.

"Yes. I was able to complete it in time."

"Thanks. I hope you didn't lose too much sleep over it."

See, I'm polite. I can be polite. Don't you want to answer all my questions?

Snape showed no reaction to her attempt at appeasing him. Maybe she should have come bearing a gift. But what did the man even like, besides terrorizing his students and wearing long, dark robes?

She pondered the question as she drank her potion.

"Did you modify the taste, too?"

It was markedly better, and no longer gave her the impression of swallowing wet dirt.

"I brewed it as usual, with your hair as an added component. You must be getting used to it."

When he took back the empty bottle from her, their hands touched, and he immediately recoiled from her, his face spasming in disgust. Harrie contained a sigh. A man of many secrets, who made very clear his feelings toward her. She didn't want him to like her, but was it too much to ask for him to conceal his repulsion? Somehow, it made her feel sad, which was ridiculous.

"Can I ask you some questions?" she said as Snape started cleaning her gland.

"I was expecting them the first time," he said in a weary tone.

"I'm sorry for wanting to understand what's happening to me."

Every syllable was coated in sarcasm, of course. Snape sighed, the gust of air tickling her scent gland pleasantly.

"Ask away, Potter. I'll answer any questions you have, even the dumbest."

She cleared her throat. This was it. She would ask all of her questions, even the worst. In fact, why not start with them?

"Will my body change?" she said, her gaze fixed on that trusty dead rat in a jar.

"There are changes, yes. The scent gland for one. There are also more intimate changes, that I would rather not get into unless you really insist. But they should be pretty self-evident."

Was this about sex? She hadn't had sex, obviously. Was he under the impression she was sexually active? Or maybe he was talking about masturbation... but she hadn't done that either. Her libido was synced to her menstrual cycle and she was in the not-horny phase right now. Still, maybe she should try masturbating to see if something had changed.

"So there aren't any delayed changes?"

"Delayed changes?" Snape repeated in a puzzled tone while he dabbed the warm towel against her neck. "What do you imagine will happen?"

She took a deep breath.

"Willmybreastsgetbigger?"

"Speak up and enunciate, Potter. I'm not in a mood to decipher your babbling."

"Will my breasts get bigger? Sir."

Why, oh why, had she added that last word? This made her question so much worse. Shame burning her cheeks, she stared at the dead rat. His name was Sir Ratus, she decided. Sir Ratus knew only his peaceful life in his jar and was blissfully ignorant of asking embarrassing questions to one's professor.

"No," Snape said, rather curtly.

Oh. Not that she wanted bigger boobs, but... what was that cover, then?

And then Snape said, "Your breasts are fine."

And Harrie said, reflexively, "Thank you."

And the world paused, because.

Because what.

There was silence for a long moment. Snape had stopped cleaning her gland, and Harrie was trying to chase down a few of her still functioning brain cells to make sense of what had happened.

"Okay," she eventually said.

She had to say something, since it appeared evident that Snape wasn't going to speak first. He wasn't even moving. Her voice seemed to unfreeze him. He removed the towel from her neck, and even though she was looking at Sir Ratus, she caught the sneer on his face.

"Turn around," he ordered.

His voice was so deep it matched the description of the rough growl from the Alpha in Luna's book and no, no, what was she doing? Now wasn't the time to think about the book! She swiftly turned around, pushing away everything about Omega princesses and muscular bandits in a dark corner of her mind.

"Are there been other Omegas?" she said. "Is that why you know so much on the subject?"

Snape gave a noise that was probably supposed to communicate annoyance, but which Harrie's brain, clearly defective, parsed as attractive.

"There are no other Omegas," he said. "Only you."

Something warm bloomed in her chest at the words. She wasn't given time to examine that feeling. The next instant, his hand made a fist in her hair, and he forced her head to the side, gently but firmly. Harrie shuddered, a piercing ache searing like fire between her legs. When Snape's tongue pressed against her scent gland, she keened, a soft desperate sound, tearing its way out of her throat without her permission.

Embarrassing, she noted from somewhere, but then even that notion dissolved away.

The world narrowed down to the physicality of the moment, to Snape's hand gripping her hair, his tongue's wet warmth on her neck, his lips branding her skin, his breath washing over her, and his scent, that delicious scent that made her head spin. She made another noise, something that sounded like pleasure, like she was asking for more.

He licked her harder, his tongue laving, swirling, applying intense pressure, and she understood that the two other times he had held back, that this was how an Alpha was supposed to lick his Omega. This was instinct, and this was right.

With a mewl, she leaned against him, wanting to feel more. His chest was unyielding against her back, a safe anchor, something that she could trust, which wouldn't let her down. There was something hard against her arse. Her hips ground back, unthinkingly chasing contact. Snape made a rough noise, appreciative, pleased.

Yes, yes, more, said a voice inside her, thrilled at that noise. Alpha, more.

His tongue scraped hard against her gland. She gasped, as the ache between her thighs sharpened to a painful, needy point, and...

He shoved her away. She stumbled forward, blinking dazedly. Reality flooded back around her, like a rubber band stretched too taut suddenly snapping back. She was disoriented, her body flushed, her breath coming in rapid pants.

"We're done," Snape said behind her, his voice icy. "Get out."

"I..."

"Out, Potter!"

There was so much anger in that demand that she flinched, and left the room without looking back. Fleeing from his wrath. She stopped two corridors away, her heart still pounding in her ears.

So.

So, um.

That had happened. Her scent gland was tingling, and the ache at the apex of her thighs remained, pulsing vaguely. She swallowed thickly. His scent clung to her, heady. Comforting. Closing her eyes, she bit at her lips.

Snape. It was Snape, she told herself. She couldn't be aroused by Severus Snape, greasy Potions Master, known arsehole, a man who hated her and whom she hated back, twenty years her senior.

But she was. And from what she'd felt, briefly... it was mutual.

She had thought their meetings couldn't get any more tense, and now she'd been proven so, so wrong. Groaning, she bumped her head against the wall. She could never face him again. But she had to, and she would, as soon as tomorrow morning in Potions class.

And she'd forgotten her scarf in his office. Shit.

She walked back to the dormitories, one hand awkwardly cupped around her scent gland. Avoiding Ron and Hermione's eyes, she mumbled that she was feeling tired, and went straight to bed.

There, in the safety of her own bed, ashamed but unable to stop herself, she put a hand down her pyjamas and glided her fingers through her folds. Shuddering, she teased herself, dipping the start of a finger into her entrance while she pressed on her clit.

She quickly noticed there was much more wetness than the usual. Was that what Snape had alluded to when he'd talked of self-evident changes? It must have been. The amount of slick leaking from her cunt was kind of embarrassing, actually. It also made her movements generate more noise than before, but she always cast a privacy Charm before any activities like that, so that wasn't a concern.

She set a gentle rhythm, rubbing at her clit, her hips moving. Her thoughts wandered, and unfortunately (but predictably), they wandered toward Snape. She recalled the strong grasp of his hand in her hair, the heat of his tongue on her neck, that noise he had made, rough, primal, and all for her.

There are no other Omegas.

She whined, her cunt clenching.

Only you.

Only her.

She crested on that thought, sharp, delicious pleasure surging within her, her eyelids fluttering, her inner walls spasming. Yes, yes, yes, and thank God for that silencing spell, because she wasn't silent about that orgasm. It was a really nice one.

It left her all limp and warm, her body floating on a cloud. She would have gone to sleep right there, if her knickers hadn't been drenched in her liquid. So Omegas came with extra lubrication, got it. She cast a quick cleaning spell, then curled up with a contented hum.

She was asleep before she had time to feel any regret.

Chapter Text

"So, did Luna manage to help you?"

Harrie gave a vague groan that could be interpreted as a yes. Hermione smiled encouragingly.

"That's good," she said. "And is he..." She cast a quick spell so nobody else at the breakfast table would hear them. "Is he gentle with you?"

Harrie tried not to let anything show on her face. She didn't want to think about how Snape was with her (he was hard), much less talk about it (he was hard and he told me I was the only one).

"Sorry," Hermione said with a frown, so Harrie must have failed at keeping a neutral face. "I'm only asking because I've read some disturbing stuff in that book about claiming..."

"You mean you read more?"

Hermione flushed.

"It's a topic that I knew nothing about, I was curious. And I'm worried about you, Harrie. About the claiming. The book said that the most effective manner for an Alpha to claim an Omega is to..."

She trailed off, her cheeks bright red.

"We're not having sex," Harrie said bluntly.

But you want to, a little voice said inside her. You want him to spear you with his big Alpha cock.

No, Harrie answered herself. I most definitely don't.

She also had to stop reading Luna's book. It was clearly warping her thoughts. But she was right, the plot was so interesting. The princess had managed to seduce the Alpha into lowering his guard, and had retrieved her wand and escaped. She was now back at court, safely away from any bandits, and the next day there would be a ball where she would finally meet the Alpha prince she had been promised to since she was a child. She was hoping he would make her forget the bandit, because she kept dreaming about him (and Harrie could relate, as Snape had featured in her own dreams last night, licking her and praising her).

"I'm sorry I pried," Hermione said. "I know it's very embarrassing..."

"It's okay, Hermione. You have a right to be worried." She smiled, trying to joke about it. "In fact, I'd be worried if you weren't worried."

Hermione smiled back.

"He's not gentle," Harrie went on. "But he doesn't hurt me. He's just... Snape."

And maybe a little more, but that was just his Alpha side that wanted her Omega side, and it didn't meant anything.

"When will the arrangement end?" Hermione asked.

"Until Voldemort's gone. Usually he tries to get me at the end of the year, so you know..."

She grimaced at her own joke, which wasn't really funny. It also meant seven more months of this, and that promised to be excruciating.

"Hopefully Snape will warm up to you at some point," Hermione said.

Harrie sneaked a glance at him. He wasn't looking at her, and he seemed to be in the foulest of mood, glaring daggers at McGonagall even as he was talking to her. Harrie hoped the older witch wasn't reminding Snape to answer her questions. She would ask no more questions, ever.

"Maybe if you got better at Potions?" Hermione said. "You made great progress last year, you even managed to do better than me."

"Because I had that manual from the Half-Blood Prince. Now I have nothing."

"Study harder?"

Harrie grunted with all the enthusiasm that suggestion generated in her, which was a negative number. It was with the same absence of enthusiasm that she stepped into the Potions classroom for their morning class. She did note, however, that it smelled good in there, then immediately wanted to slap herself. It was all Snape's smell, for God's sake.

He entered the classroom like a storm cloud, slamming the door behind him, making nearly everyone jump.

"Get your parchments out," he said. "You will be taking a surprise test today."

Nobody complained out loud, but there were a lot of winces and sighs. Harrie took it in stride. Her day couldn't get any worse than last night.

Which she wasn't gonna think about while Snape was right there.

He tapped the blackboard with his wand, a series of questions appearing in his slanted handwriting. It was rather elegant, the letters nicely looped, especially the F and the G. The way he wrote the S was also interesting, because it flowed like a sinuous curve and then ended with a little wiggle.

Am I fantasizing about Snape's handwriting now? What? What?

"Potter, you might want to start writing instead of staring at the board like a brainless Flobberworm."

"Actually," she said before she could stop herself, "Flobberworms do have a brain, and they're—they're quite... smart..."

Fuck, she concluded in her head.

"Detention, Potter," Snape said with a sneer. "Tonight, eight p.m. And a ten points deduction from Griffyndor."

But why? she wanted to ask. Why would you give me detention after last night?

Shouldn't he have tried to avoid her as much as possible? Briefly, she met his gaze. He didn't look away, seeming as cool and confident as ever. All right. He was pretending it hadn't happened. She could do the same.

She focused on the board, on the questions. The first one read, Discuss the uses of phoenix tears in the preparation of the Reviving Draught, and suggest compatible substitutes. Drawing on what she remembered, she started writing.

For a time, the sound of quills scratching parchment was all there was.

Done with the first question, Harrie lifted her head to read the second one. Snape was standing close, looking right at her. It was usual for him: during tests, he would wander the classroom, walking among the students, making sure there was no cheating going on, and he often stopped near Harrie. But today, it meant more. Or less. Or something different.

She was starting to sweat under that obsidian gaze. His eyes were so dark, giving him a magnetic presence that was amplified by the harsh lines of his face. She had to look away, or she'd be trapped, mesmerized forever, but when she did, for some reason, she looked down. At his mouth.

He had nice lips.

Along with the incongruous thought, something clenched low in her stomach. Well, no, not her stomach. Lower.

Oh no, oh fuck.

Snape's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and his nostrils flared. He stepped back, swiftly turning away, his robes billowing with the movement. She was hit with a wave of his scent, a cloud that settled over her and made her skin tingle. The start of a whine built in her throat. She disguised it into a cough.

No, come on, no! She couldn't be feeling this way about Snape. Yesterday had been temporary insanity. Surely this couldn't be a lasting thing.

But the way he stands, said a little voice from within her. So commanding, so strong. And his voice. Deep and smooth, with that husky rasp.

Harrie considered banging her head against her desk so those thoughts would stop. She looked at the blackboard, willing herself to focus on the questions. There were two more to get to, and her time was running out. Snape had gone back to his desk, she noted, and he was looking at her angrily. In fact, he seemed to be furious with her. But she wasn't doing anything! Except fantasizing about him.

He was hot when he was angry.

Fuck.

Okay, she had to accept it now. She was attracted to Snape. She wanted Snape.

Kill me now, merciful wizards gods.

But the wizard gods declined to end her suffering, and she had to spend the rest of the class stewing in her misery, laboring to answer the remaining questions of the test. When it was over, she practically ran out of the room, and made a beeline for the bathroom.

There, she splashed cold water on her face, before looking at herself in the mirror.

"That's gonna be a problem," her reflection informed her, with an irritated eyebrow twitch.

"I know," she grumbled at herself.

She was on pins and needles for the rest of the day, tonight's detention looming closer and closer. Could she skip a detention? Perhaps if she was injured, and had to be in the infirmary. She could ask Hermione to cast a spell on her, and they'd say it was a duel gone wrong, or something...

"Injure you so you don't have to go to detention?" Hermione said when Harrie suggested the idea. "Harrie, there must be other options..."

"Like what?"

"Have you tried talking to Snape?"

"Talking."

"Yes. Alphas can intimidate Omegas without meaning to, just by their presence. Maybe that's what Snape is doing. Maybe he's inexperienced at this, too."

Harrie groaned.

"You read that book cover to cover, didn't you?" she said.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "It's a fascinating matter. Frankly, it should be taught at Hogwarts, along with some sexual education classes. You'd be much more prepared for what's happening to you."

Harrie made a non-committal noise.

"Talk to him, Harrie," Hermione said gently.

Talk to Snape. And tell him what? That she was finding him sexy? She'd rather dance a tango with Voldemort.

No, she wouldn't say anything. She'd go through with her detention, and then she'd avoid getting another one.

Solid plan, she told herself while she walked to the dungeons.

"Hey Harrie," said a cheerful voice.

"Hi, Luna."

"Heading somewhere interesting?" Luna asked, falling in step with Harrie.

"Uh, no. The opposite of interesting, in fact. Detention, with Snape."

"Oh, I don't know. Snape is interesting. I think he might be a vampire."

"A... vampire?" Harrie repeated, nonplussed.

Luna nodded enthusiastically.

"He's very pale, he always wears black, he's rarely seen outside, and he's grumpy."

"Vampires are grumpy?"

"Wouldn't you be, if you had to live forever?"

"I... yeah, I guess," Harrie said, still struggling with associating 'Snape' and 'vampire'.

"Do you want some garlic to be safe?" Luna offered.

"Sure. I'll take anything to protect me from Snape."

Luna dropped a couple of cloves in her hand.

"You're already keeping your neck covered, so I think you'll be all right," she added. "Good luck!"

"Thanks. And where are you off to?"

"I'm searching for Nargles. They like dark, damp places, so I figured the dungeons were the place to look."

"Have you ever seen one?" Harrie asked. "You told me about Nargles when we first met, and..."

"And...?"

Harrie hesitated. 'I don't think they exist' sounded too harsh, especially after finding out about all that Alpha and Omega business.

"I hope you find one," she said, smiling at her friend.

"Thanks, Harrie! I hope Snape doesn't drink your blood!"

And on that she sauntered away, humming a jaunty tune. Harrie couldn't help but smile, her spirits lifted.

Snape was still in a foul mood. He glared at her as soon as she arrived, and ordered her to take a seat in a biting tone.

"For your detention, you will be copying down the content of the pamphlet in front of you," he informed her. "That should answer any of your remaining questions."

She grabbed the leaflet, giving it a rapid look. So you're an Omega, the title read, with another, smaller title underneath that said Don't panic! It continued with explanations about what being an Omega meant. Harrie looked up at Snape.

"Where is this from?"

"Beauxbâtons. I ran it through a translation spell. It's the standard leaflet the school distributes to Omega students."

"So the French get this, and I get..."

She waved her hand vaguely at Snape.

"Blame the Ministry, Potter, not me."

Harrie stopped the snappy answer that rose to her lips, and started on her task.

The first paragraph was nothing new. The second paragraph mentioned Alphas, and their special relationship with Omegas. But just because you're an Omega doesn't mean you have to mate with an Alpha! the pamphlet said. Plenty of Omegas have fulfilling, meaningful relationships with non-Alphas.

Good. Harrie underlined that sentence twice before moving on to the next paragraph. It talked about heats, and the various ways to deal with them. If the heat-suppressant potions fail, or if one cannot acquire them, the most satisfying solution remains to have sexual intercourse. An Omega should only attempt to go through a heat alone if they are already experienced, and have someone who can assist them through it by helping them eat and accomplish daily tasks. A first heat always requires a partner.

Harrie was glad Snape had brewed her a better potion. He didn't have to, but he had done it anyway. He was taking care of her even if he hated it.

Sexual urges are normal to experience, read the next paragraph. Do not be ashamed of your awakening desires!

And how was she supposed to do that?

Yearning for an Alpha's attention is an especially common thing. Your biology is driving you to seek their approval.

What would Snape's approval look like? The man hadn't had one kind word for her since they'd met. Could he even say nice things, or was that a physical impossibility? She imagined his deep voice telling her she was doing good.

Exceptional work Miss Potter, keep at it.

Suddenly she wanted to hear him say that. Whisper it in her ear, even. Perhaps after he had licked her again.

She felt herself blushing. Was Snape watching her right now? She looked up, and no, he wasn't. He was grading essays, his hair falling over his face like a curtain. She wondered how it would feel to touch it. He had touched hers, after all, and he didn't have to. Maybe next time he licked her she would grab onto him.

He looked up at her.

"Stop doing that," he said tightly, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"Doing what?"

"You're scenting. You did it this morning, too."

Apparently that made him furious.

"What's scenting?"

"Didn't you do any research?" he growled. "Back of the pamphlet."

She turned it over, found the relevant paragraph quickly.

About scenting: an Omega can release pheromones to attract an Alpha and entice them to mate.

Oh.

Oh no.

"You might as well be dancing naked on my desk," Snape said.

"I-I didn't realize," she stammered. "I'm not doing it on purpose!"

"Clearly."

The word dripped with scorn, but there was something else layering his voice, something deeper. Arousal. Now his anger made sense. He was reacting to it. To her.

"This morning," she said, "that's why you stayed at your desk the rest of the class. You were hard."

"Brilliantly deduced, Potter. The next time you throw your pheromones at me, I'll deduct a hundred points from Griffyndor. Have fun explaining the reason to your classmates."

"I told you I didn't mean to! Obviously I'd never dance naked on your desk!

"Good," he said, sharply.

"Good," she retorted, unwilling to let him have the last word.

He kept scowling at her. She was pretty sure he was cursing her internally.

Stop looking at him. Focus on the pamphlet. And don't say...

"Are you hard right now?"

Yes, that. Don't say that.

"Is this a game to you, Potter?" he groaned, saying her name like it was an insult. "Do you enjoy tormenting me?" He shook his head. "You have no idea what you're doing."

"And you do? Sir?"

No answer. Only a murderous stare. She really shouldn't have found that hot.

"Are we going to talk about what happened last night?" she said.

"Nothing happened."

She could have cut herself on the edge of his voice.

"Fine. I hope nothing happens next time, too."

Wait. Had that sounded like she wanted it to happen again? Yes, it had. But that wasn't what she meant. Her attraction to him, while undeniable, wasn't something to pursue. Her Omega side might have wanted Snape, but she didn't, and she was in control.

"I meant really nothing," she said, because she didn't want to give him the wrong idea. "Nothing at all. A perfectly normal moment where you just lick me."

That sounded wrong. She considered rephrasing it, but really, there was no way to make it sound right.

"Why do you always have to be so insufferable?" Snape said with a sigh.

"You started it."

"I did no such thing."

"Yes, you did. From the very moment I set foot at Hogwarts, you disliked me. You glared at me during the Sorting ceremony, making it clear I wasn't welcome here as far as you were concerned, and then in that first Potions class, you singled me out and asked unfair questions nobody except Hermione could have answered correctly."

"You weren't paying attention," Snape said, his dark eyes narrowing, irritation flickering in them. "You were so convinced of your own self-importance that you—"

"I was writing down what you were saying!"

Snape paused, giving her a very keen look.

"You were?" he said, shaping the words so carefully it looked like he was loath to actually pronounce them.

"Yes. 'I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses, to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.'"

"You remember," he said, looking baffled that she recalled his speech years later.

"It was very memorable. That's mainly why I thought you were evil that first year, because of that whole speech. You sounded like a dark wizard."

He made a soft noise that she struggled to categorize. Had that been... a laugh? A real, amused little laugh? No, it couldn't be.

"Be that as it may," he said, and she knew she must have hallucinated that laugh because now he was deadly serious, "you brought down my contempt upon yourself, Potter. You acted recklessly, year after year, putting others in danger, putting yourself in danger. Like the quintessential Gryffindor, you don't think before you act, and then people are forced to take care of the mess you leave in your wake."

"By 'people', you mean you."

"Frequently, yes," he said, his mouth twisting in displeasure.

"So you make my life harder because I make your life harder. Great. I'm glad we cleared that up."

She went back to copying down the text from the pamphlet. She was barely into the second sentence when Snape spoke again.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out," he repeated in an even tone. "There's no point to this detention. Take the pamphlet and go."

"But..."

Snape sighed.

"Are you arguing to stay in detention?"

"No," she said, blushing—and she was always blushing now, seriously. Was this an Omega thing? "I'm trying to understand why you'd send me away. I'm not scenting anymore. I mean, I hope I'm not. Shit, am I?"

"No. But the pheromones do linger in the air for some time."

She grimaced. He was probably still smelling them, then, her stupid pheromones that must have screamed fuck me, fuck me.

"I'm sorry," she said, standing up. "It won't happen again."

He gave a stiff nod. She reached the door, turned around.

"Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Potter."

He said her name with a little less venom than the usual. She thought about that on her way back to the Tower. Their conversation had ended in a civil manner, too, which was surprising in and of itself. This was progress.

Aaaand she'd forgotten to ask him for her scarf back.

Maybe next detention.

She wasn't hopeful enough to think there wouldn't be one.

*

"I've heard the prince is very handsome," her handmaid said as she helped her into her gown.

"So it's said," Rowena replied.

"And a very strong Alpha. He will be a good match for you, your Grace."

Rowena hoped so. She hoped he would make her forget about the other Alpha that haunted her dreams lately, the handsome and devilish bandit who had awakened her inner Omega and brought her to heights of ecstasy in his arms. She had never known such delight.

As an Omega, there was of course no expectation that she should be a virgin on her wedding night. Only that she should be unclaimed. R owena had known many lovers, but none as skilled as Julian. What were the chances that her promised prince was as competent in lovemaking as her bandit?

She gave a small sigh, looking at herself in the mirror. She was resplendent, and the gown clung to her breasts, highlighting their lovely shape.

"For your hair, your Grace, I was thinking..."

"Leave it down."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

A while later, her escort came to fetch her. She would meet the prince in the ball room, and then they would open the festivities by dancing together. Her heart pounded as she walked. What if she didn't like the prince? What if he was an insufferable prat? She couldn't bear sharing her life with an imbecile either.

But she had to marry him, no matter what. They had been promised to each other since their childhoods, and the alliance of their two kingdoms was poised upon their union. She had to do her duty and become his Omega.

When she entered the ball room, she easily identified the prince and his entourage, all wearing the dark blue colors of their heraldry. The prince was turned away from her, but then he pivoted, and she was looking at his face.

The smiling face of Julian.

"I knew it," Harrie muttered, rather pleased with herself for guessing the twist in advance.

The chapter ended on that revelation, and it was getting late, so she decided she'd read more tomorrow, and turned out her wand light.

*

Harrie's hands were steady. She was holding her breath while she transferred the content of one vial into another. She needed exactly three ounces of Dugbog venom. One, two... she tipped the vial a bit further, which wasn't that easy while she was wearing the thick dragon-hide gloves required for the task.

She tightened her grip a bit too much, over-corrected in the next second, but it was too late, that was more than three ounces, and now the vial was slipping, and...

"Shit," she muttered under her breath.

The vial bounced down to the desk, liquid splashing. The inside of her wrist burned with a stinging pain. A drop of the venom had somehow managed to land just under the gloves. Wincing, Harrie contemplated the disaster.

"Potter. What happened?"

Snape was there, glaring at her.

"The vial slipped," she said, aware that was a less than adequate answer.

But Snape didn't berate her for her clumsiness, nor did he use her as an example of what not to do. Instead, his eyes scanned her intently, and he said...

"Are you hurt?"

Harrie blinked.

"Uh, no. I mean, just my wrist, but it's fine."

His dark eyes honed in on her wrist. He grabbed her arm and pushed back her sleeve, making her pivot her hand to inspect her wrist. She tried to ignore the peculiar way he touched her, just like in his office, with firm gentleness, as if he was afraid she'd spook.

"You call this fine?"

She wrenched her gaze away from his fingers wrapped around her forearm to look at her wrist. Her skin was red where the venom had made contact, in two small spots.

"Dugbog venom is dangerous, Potter. Why do you think I make you wear gloves? It can leave permanent scars if the burns aren't treated right away."

His hand squeezed her arm briefly before he released her.

"Go to the infirmary, now. Miss Granger, you will accompany Potter. Quickly!"

"Yes, sir," Hermione and Harrie both said.

They hurried out of the dungeons, toward the infirmary. Harrie walked while holding her arm sideways. She still felt a vague burn on her wrist.

"Was that on purpose?" Hermione said.

"On purpo—No, I didn't splash venom on myself so I could get out of Potions. I'm still capable of making it through his classes."

"So you talked?" Hermione said.

Harrie shrugged.

"I think we've reached a sort of truce. I hate him, he hates me, this whole thing sucks, but we have to get through it."

Madam Pomfrey quickly identified Harrie's problem when they arrived at the infirmary.

"Another Potions incident, I take it? Let me see."

She inspected Harrie's wrist, and told her it had to be treated right away so it wouldn't scar. Directing her to a bed, she dabbed a purple liquid on the inside of her wrist, then gave Harrie a piece of cloth imbibed with a healing liquid and instructed her to keep it against her wrist.

"We'll see how that looks in half an hour. Miss Granger, you can go back to class."

Hermione left and Harrie sat on the bed, pondering her life. She didn't come to any revelations.

About fifteen minutes had passed when the curtain that shielded her bed was drawn back. Snape stepped in, quickly closed the curtain behind him again. Harrie stared at him, her brain failing to make sense of his presence. His smell reached her in a pleasant wave, and she felt herself relax.

"Why are you here?" she groaned at him.

He stared back at her for a long moment without saying anything.

"Do you think I care nothing for my students?" he finally said.

"You sent me to the infirmary, you did your job already. I'm gonna be fine. And even if I wasn't, what's one more scar?"

His eyes darkened at that sentence.

"You have to take better care of yourself, Potter."

"Why? I'm probably gonna die soon anyway."

She had never voiced that thought aloud. She wasn't sure why it had come out now, with Snape. It was her deepest fear, that she'd lose against Voldemort, that all of her efforts would be in vain. Sometimes it kept her awake in the dark of night, and at other times it intruded upon her at random moments, tainting the present.

"You will not die," Snape said, glaring at her like she had said the most stupid thing. And then, lower, almost under his breath, "I won't allow it."

"Oh, really? I wasn't aware Death answered to you."

"Show me your wrist."

She obeyed, for some reason. He removed the piece of cloth, examined the state of her skin. The redness had subsided, and there remained only two faint pinpricks, a shade darker than her skin tone.

"You need to spread the ointment," he said, "so it can penetrate the skin."

His thumb stroked the sensitive skin of her wrist, back and forth, sliding wetly against her pulse point. She shivered. Stupid and inevitable, arousal followed. She licked her lips, gazing up at Snape. He had to know what he was doing, so why was he doing it?

Conflict was written all over his face. He looked angry at her, angry at himself, too, but there was also something soft teasing across his features, something so unlike him Harrie immediately wanted to see more of it.

"Thank you," she said.

She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed audibly.

"You're doing it again," he murmured.

Scenting, that is. She was aware of it this time. Aware, and...

"I'm not sorry."

He stepped closer. His nose brushed her temple, then her hair, the light contact electrifying her. She bit back a gasp. He inhaled deeply.

"This has to stop," he said, a low rumble.

"Yes," she agreed.

But she didn't move away, and neither did he. His thumb was still caressing the inside of her wrist, which combined with his closeness was starting to feel too much. Or not enough, if she re-framed it in a different way. A dangerous way.

She breathed in, luxuriating in his scent, filling her lungs with it. A flick of wet heat at her ear made her keen. The tip of his tongue traced the shell of her ear, delicately, heading down before he sucked on her earlobe. Lust burning between her thighs, she spread them wide. He instantly stepped in that newly created space, pressing his hips against hers. She let out a mewling sound at the feel of his erection.

He huffed against her ear, biting at the lobe. She reached for him, grabbed his left arm, a needy whine on her lips. Abruptly, he jerked away. Stepping back, he shook his head.

"No," he said, breathing hard.

He took another step back, his eyes fixed on her.

"You won't drag me into this madness," he snarled, before disappearing behind the curtain.

"You came to see me in the first place," Harrie muttered, probably not loud enough for him to hear.

She retrieved the wet cloth imbibed with the healing solution, placed it back on her wrist, and wondered why Snape's sudden departure left her feeling so bereft.

Chapter Text

Rowena had a problem. A massive, massive problem.

Julian was an arsehole.

No, that was putting it too lightly. He was the worst piece of shit she ever had the displeasure of knowing. It was as if he was a completely different person from the man she had met at wandpoint. The Julian she had spent time with in the caves was gruff but kind, with a wicked sense of humor, and while he was a criminal, he wasn't a bad person, simply misguided.

The Julian she had met at the ball and who was to become her husband, however, was cruel, arrogant, disdainful and vain. She had seen him hit serving girls for minor mistakes, had seen him use his rank to grind people beneath his boots and abuse his privileges. He kept calling her his little Omega wife despite her insistence for him to stop, and he treated her like she was a pretty thing he couldn't wait to possess.

Moreover, and most confusingly, he acted like they had never met before the ball. When she attempted to talk about their time in the caves, he would laugh and tell her she had to stop imagining herself another life.

"I'll brought you to heel once we're wed," he had said the last time she had tried to broach the subject.

He also didn't smell right, his scent different from the Julian of the caves. When he put his hands on her, the few times she didn't pull away in time, it made her shudder in disgust rather than pleasure.

The wedding was tomorrow, and Rowena was considering fleeing the castle, renouncing her title, and reinventing herself as a common-born witch. Julian must have suspected she had reservations, because he had taken away her wand and had ordered that she be confined to her rooms.

She was sitting on her bed, making plans to escape, when there was a knock at the window. She went to open it, and there, hovering in the air, was Julian. A gust of wind brought his scent to her nostrils. He smelled right.

"I've come to rescue you," he said, smiling.

"There's two of you."

"He's my evil twin," Julian said.

"Oh thank Merlin," she said.

Harrie grunted. The plot was thickening. But really, an evil twin? That was a bit cliché.

She put the book down, hiding it back under her pillow. It was time for today's Potions class. She hadn't seen Snape since the infirmary incident, two days ago. Even at meal times he'd been absent from the Great Hall, as if he was taking care not to be in the same room as her. Today she'd see him twice, first in class and then later tonight for the scent marking.

She breathed deep of the classroom air when she entered. The aroma was so calming. She wondered if she could manage to bottle that scent somehow, and then... also keep it under her pillow? That was a bit creepy, wasn't it? Snape had made it clear he didn't want anything to do with her. She had to respect that wish.

She settled for enjoying the smell while she was here. It grew stronger when Snape arrived, and when he passed by her desk she took another deep breath. That was all she allowed herself. She took care not to scent, paying attention to Snape without letting her mind wander. It wasn't that easy. His voice was still a delight to her ears, and his austere face was pleasant to behold.

Yep, yep, still attracted to him.

It helped that he was completely ignoring her. His eyes passed over her without seeing her, and he didn't address her once. She had become a ghost to him.

That's one way to deal with it.

But that would end up being problematic, so once class has ended, she lingered in the room, waiting until it was only her and Snape. Still, he ignored her, pretending to be so absorbed by papers on his desk that he didn't notice her standing right there.

She cleared her throat. He didn't react.

This was getting ridiculous.

"You can't act like I'm not there," she said. "People will also notice, and also ask questions."

"I'll teach my classes however I please, Potter. Now unless you happen to have a question about the curriculum, kindly vacate the room."

She sighed through her nose. He couldn't have been more aggravating if he had chosen to deliberately annoy her.

"Can I have my scarf back?"

He looked up at her. Something flashed across his features. It looked a lot like guilt.

"I'll return it to you tonight."

He ignored her once more, focusing on the papers at his desk.

"I preferred when you were extra mean," Harrie said, before leaving.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Harrie snoozed through her History of Magic class, then managed well in Transfiguration, changing her feather into a rather convincing toad (although it made meowing sounds, which meant she didn't get full marks).

She had essays to write for various classes, and they all had to be handed in next week, so she spent her time after class in the Gryffindor's common room, trading ideas with Ron. Hermione had of course already written all of her essays, and was relaxing, which for Hermione meant she was reading a complicated book about Ancient Runes.

Occasionally, she chimed in to offer her insight.

"No, Ron, you really can't suggest the Centaurs' revolt of 1689 has anything to do with the passing of the Statute of Secrecy."

"But they happened within the same year!"

"Correlation does not imply causation."

"I'm writing it anyway," Ron mumbled defiantly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Hermione replied. "Harrie, shouldn't you be on your way to, you know? It's nearly eight p.m."

"It is?" Harrie said, snapping to sudden attention. "Shit, it is... Thanks, Hermione."

She really didn't need to be late for her scent marking. Hurrying through corridors and down staircases, she made it to Snape's office one minute before eight. When she knocked, there was no answer. She knocked harder, then called out, "Sir?"

There still was no answer.

He wouldn't be ignoring her even for her scent making, right? No. No, he had said he'd give her back her scarf, so he was expecting her. Maybe he was late, for whatever reason.

She waited a few minutes.

Should she try to send him a message? She immediately realized this was a profoundly stupid idea. Wherever he was, he might not have been alone, and her Patronus would have bounded around him, telling him in her voice, hey, you're supposed to be licking me, where are you? Even if she made the message non-descriptive, it was still suspicious that he'd get a Patronus from her.

She considered breaking in. A quick Alohomora and she'd be inside. Perhaps he had fallen asleep; after all, his bedroom was adjacent to his office. But that would intrude upon his privacy, and if he truly wasn't there, he'd probably be able to tell she had broken in, because her scent would linger in the room.

After twenty minutes of standing around, she went to Dumbledore. He was in his office, reading The Daily Prophet. Death Eaters activity on the rise! said the headline.

"Ah, Harrie," he greeted her with a smile. "I assume you're here because you found Severus' door close."

"Yes. Where is he?"

"Unfortunately, he was called upon by Voldemort. An emergency meeting, as I understood it."

She hadn't thought about that. Which was stupid of her, because that was what Snape did. He was a spy for Dumbledore, for the Light. For her, in a way.

"Will he be okay?" she heard herself ask.

Her stomach was doing strange things at the thought of Snape in danger.

"There is no reason to worry, Harrie," Dumbledore said with another smile, and perhaps this one showed a little amusement that she would ask such a question. "Severus is an accomplished Occlumens, and he has deceived Voldemort again and again. Those kind of emergencies happen from time to time, this is not a rare occurrence."

"When will he be back?"

"Usually very late in the night. He'll take care of your scent marking tomorrow night. It can wait a day."

"Okay," she said.

He made a hand gesture, and a potion appeared on his desk.

"In case this should ever happen, Severus left this with me. He told me the heat-suppressant potion couldn't wait, so you should take it right away."

Nodding, Harrie grabbed the potion, downed it in four long swallows. There, done. The taste wasn't bad anymore. Snape had done something to change it, she was sure. Had lied right to her face when she had asked. He was an extremely good liar, after all.

She walked back to the common room, tried to focus on the essay she was supposed to be writing. She failed, her mind coming back again and again to Snape. He would be fine. He had done this before. He'd been doing it for years, and Voldemort had never been the wiser.

"Who's gonna be fine?" Hermione said.

She must have been talking out loud. What a terrible spy she would make.

"Snape," she said, then quickly explained the situation.

"Of course he's gonna be fine," Ron said with a shrug. "He's a snake among snakes, and he's excellent at protecting his mind, isn't he? Why are you worried?"

"I don't know," she lied.

I'm helplessly attracted to him, and it's kind of mutual, heeeelp.

Hermione seemed to sense her inner conflict, and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Ron is right, Harrie. He's the best spy the Order has."

"Assuming he's not secretly on You-Know-Who's side," Ron added. "What? Like you haven't had the thought at some point!"

Hermione was shaking her head. Harrie couldn't deny that the thought had crossed her mind when Dumbledore had first told her of Snape's work for the Order. But she trusted him now. She trusted him with her life.

"He's on our side," she said.

Her scent gland tingled, like it needed him. Harrie buried a groan in her hands. Abandoning all thoughts of working on her essay, she went upstairs and retrieved the book from under her pillow. Reading about Rowena's problems would make her forget hers for a time.

"Your evil twin is ruining my life," Rowena told Julian, who was still hovering at her window.

"He ruined mine, too. But it needn't be this way."

He sent her a charming smile, a smile she knew well, a smile she had missed so dearly.

"Come with me," he said, holding out a hand.

It was so tempting.

"You would have me abandon my people?" she said, crossing her arms to stop herself from reaching out for him.

"Your people do not deserve you. All they see in you is the Omega, and all they expect of you is that you be submissive to the Alpha they sold you to. They won't let you be anything else. You know that."

It seemed bitterly unfair to hear such an accurate summary of her life coming from the mouth of such a scoundrel.

"So what are you offering me?" she said. "A life of secrecy, spent deep in the forest in you, living in caves, robbing travelers to survive?"

"A life of freedom. A life with me."

She did want him, very much. But she wasn't satisfied by that arrangement. She still had a duty to her people, to her country. If she left, things would crumble, and Julian—the cruel one, the wrong one—would go on unchecked, a dangerous tyrant.

"Your twin brother," she said. "Is that common knowledge that he has a twin?"

"No. Nobody knew but the midwife who secreted me away moments after I was born. Only one heir was needed, and there could be no competition. He doesn't even know I exist."

"And you hate him, don't you?"

Julian's eyes flashed with anger and contempt.

"You've met him, my Lady. Of course I hate him. I hate him with every fiber of my being."

"Then I have a plan," Rowena said, and smiled.

*

Harrie couldn't help but exhale a small sigh of relief when Snape walked into the Potions classroom the next morning. He looked exhausted, his eyes sunken in, his face paler than the usual, but he was alive.

She didn't even mind when he announced another surprise test, and she did her best to answer every question. He stayed seated behind his desk for the whole hour, casting his dark eyes about the room. Harrie knew that this time, it wasn't her fault. She wasn't scenting, so he must have been too tired to move about the room as was his custom.

She wondered, again, how he had spent his evening. Voldemort didn't treat his Death Eaters gently, she knew that. Had he tortured Snape? Was he displeased with him? What sort of information was Snape feeding to Voldemort to keep her safe?

When class ended, she stayed behind again.

"I don't have the patience for you right now, Potter," he said before she could open her mouth. "Whatever it is, it can wait until this evening."

She had only wanted to ask if he was all right.

"Sorry, sir," she said, and promptly left.

She thought about him all day. It was absurd, and that didn't escape her notice. She used to not care about him at all, and would have been happy to never see him again for the rest of her life. And now she wanted to talk to him, she wanted to be in his presence, she wanted him to praise her, and yes, she wanted him to lick her.

She wanted more than his tongue. How terribly inappropriate her thoughts were.

She kept her mind carefully blank when she knocked on his door later that day, at eight p.m.

"Potter," he grunted at her. "Let's do this quickly."

"Yes, sir."

He cleaned her scent gland, his gestures sharp and precise, then applied the heat of his tongue there, in slow strokes. She held herself still, breathing through her nose in tight increments, fighting the heat that stirred in her core. Biting her lips, too, so she wouldn't make any noise.

To Snape's credit, he was as thorough as before, didn't try and cut this short despite his exhaustion and the awkward state of things.

When it was done he stepped back quickly, and when Harrie turned around he was handing her her scarf. She took it, inadvertently brushing against his left sleeve. He tensed, a soft noise of pain escaping him. She was confused for a second: she had barely touched him, was he that sensitive, or was that not pain, or... Then all of her thoughts collapsed into a single one.

His left arm.

His left forearm.

"Is your Mark hurting?"

The glower she received told her she had guessed right.

"That is none of your concern," he said tersely.

"Did Voldemort hurt you?"

The glower intensified. He thought he was intimidating her, but it made her feel the same thing as his tongue.

"Don't say his name, foolish child!"

"Sorry, sir. Also, I'm very much not a child."

He kept glaring at her intensely, as if that would get her to back off. She took a step toward him. Small, tentative. Hopeful.

"Can I see it?"

He looked away, his jaw ticking.

"Why would you want to, Potter?" he said, tensing again like he was considering bolting away from her.

"I'm curious about you."

He looked back at her. She held his gaze, letting him see everything, all the emotions bubbling up in her.

"This is a bad idea," he rasped, voice an octave lower than before.

"Please," she said.

And then she said what she really meant.

"Please, Alpha."

His nostrils flared, his eyes widening. Slowly, he pulled back his left sleeve. The Dark Mark appeared, the skull, the snake, in black ink, fresh and bright, standing out against his pale skin. Harrie's fingers hovered over it.

"Does it always hurt?"

"No. Only after the... meetings."

She looked up at him.

"When it's all over, you can have it erased," she said, resting the tip of her fingers at the back of his wrist, such a soft touch it was barely there at all. "Hermione was telling me about a spell she had found that would work the other day. I mean, she was talking about my scar, but it's the same thing, isn't it? It's from him, so..."

He didn't answer, and she saw what he was thinking in those black eyes. She saw the resignation, the absence of hope. It collided with something in her chest that hurt, something that tightened and made her want to scream.

"No," she said, grabbing his wrist. "No, you're not gonna die."

She got on her tip toes to reach his ear.

"I won't let you," she whispered there, then she licked him, because why the hell wouldn't she after all.

He made a very interesting noise, all rough and contained. She felt him tremble, wondered what it would take to shatter that cool, indifferent appearance of his. She licked him again, more slowly, and then she moved her free hand to check something.

Yes. He was hard. She stroked the bulge that tented his dark pants, mimicking the way he had touched her in the infirmary, a slow, firm contact. He groaned, and his hand encircled her other wrist. She expected he'd push her away, but instead he pulled her closer.

"You shouldn't," he said, squeezing her wrist at the same time, telling her the exact opposite of what his mouth was saying.

She drew back just enough to look him in the eye.

"I want to make you feel good."

"This is your Omega hormones at work. They're driving you to please me because I'm protecting you."

"I may be a Gryffindor, but I'm not entirely ruled by my hindbrain. Yes, the Omega in me wants to touch you. I, Harrie, am making the decision to make it happen."

She ground her palm against his cock, once. It was gratifying to see him close his eyes as he swallowed back a gasp.

"And you are protecting me," she added. "Why shouldn't you get rewarded?"

His eyes snapped open. Suddenly he looked angry.

"Is that what this is?" he said, back to glaring. "You, thanking me?"

Why was he so against it? This was more than anger, this was actual offense, like she had insulted him.

"This is what I want," she said, loading the last word with everything she had fought so far, lust and need and desperate longing.

She squeezed his cock through his clothes, decided she wanted to see it. Her hand groped, determined, but his frock coat was in the way, and then there were buttons. A lot of buttons. She dedicated both hands to the task.

"Why do you have so many buttons?"

He grunted something intelligible, guided her hands. Finally, with his help, she managed to get everything open, and reached his underwear. It was also black, of course. And that bulge... She trailed one finger up his length hidden by the fabric.

"I don't advise you tease me, Potter," he said, in that unspeakably hot growl of a voice.

"Yes, sir," she said, about to combust from the voice, the tone, the whole situation.

She tugged down his underwear, and his cock sprang free.

"Oh," she said.

Which was a dumb thing to say, but she'd been rendered speechless. It was her first time seeing a cock for real, and though she had expected it to be big because of everything she had read about Alphas, she clearly hadn't been adequately prepared. It wasn't the length that flummoxed her so much as the girth. And it was veiny, too, with a bead of clear liquid atop the fat mushroom head.

Big Alpha cock, she thought.

"You can still leave," Snape said.

She smirked at him.

"Have you ever known me to back down from a challenge, sir?"

Liquid fire pooled in his eyes, which where suddenly alight with lust. Still smirking, she wrapped her hand around the base of him, gave one stroke, then another, exploring how it felt. He was very hot and very hard in her palm, and she thought she could feel him pulse, which was bizarre but fascinating.

Her next stroke was firmer, and at the end she rolled her thumb on the head of his cock, smearing the fluid that leaked there. Snape jerked as if she had jinxed him. Then he grabbed her, and in three steps, he had backed her up against the wall, his body bracing hers, his hands at her hips.

"How many times have you done this?" he said, his voice delightfully husky.

"Zero," she said, licking her lips.

His gaze darkened with a possessive heat that had her cunt clenching.

"Relax your wrist, tighten your fingers," he said, like this was another lesson and he wanted her to get the best grade. "Full strokes, from the base to the tip."

She followed his instructions with great care, determined to please him. Her hand worked on his cock, which was soon slick with his pre-cum. God, that thing was so big. Her fingers could barely encircle him at the base.

Snape's breathing was growing ragged, turning shallower, his hands gripping her hips hard, and it was gratifying to know she could affect him that much. She had never imagined her unflappable Potions professor could look like that, hunched over her with his cock in her hand, could sound like that, half-bitten growls rumbling up his throat.

"Good girl," he said, and at that she made her own noise, a hitched gasp of breath. "Good Omega, pleasing your Alpha..."

"Oh, fuck," she whined, her brain liquefying at the praise, her entire body flaring up in need.

"That's it, keep stroking me. You're doing very well."

Her hips jerked toward him, a moan escaping her. His hands tightened, pushing her back into the wall, holding her there. She could feel his fingers burning her even through her clothes.

"No squirming, Potter. Focus on what you're doing."

Focus, right, she could focus. Focus on stroking his thick, glorious cock, and not on how that made her feel. Not on how hot her body was, not on how drenched her knickers had become, not on the fact that she was positive she could have come from giving a handjob to Snape if only she'd been allowed to hump him.

"Such a pretty little Omega," Snape was saying, rocking his hips into her hand, the slick sounds gaining in speed. "Ah, I'm close... Do you know where I'm gonna come?"

"On me, sir," she said, breathless.

Reason had fled and left only atrocious, belly-clawing need in its wake, and she was certain she'd die if he came anywhere else than on her. Or in her.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," he said.

Clearly, if he could make that kind of joke, she wasn't doing her job properly. She retrieved her hand, spat into her palm, then gripped his cock once more and spread the added lubrication all over his shaft, stroking faster. He let out a long moan, hands clenching at her hips bones. Then, in a flurry of swift movement, he opened her robes, rucked up her sweater, her shirt underneath, until he had bared her stomach.

"I'm gonna come all over your belly."

She gave a soft little keen in answer. She wanted that. She wanted him to come all over her, mark her as his, in the most depraved way.

"Please," she whimpered, speeding up her hand motions. "Please, yes, yes... Come on me, sir."

His hips snapped forward two more times, and with a harsh noise dragged up from the depths of his chest, he stilled, his cock pulsing in her hand. He spilled across her stomach in heated spurts as she kept stroking him, more and more milky white strips of cum painting her skin, until he shuddered at last and there was no more to be had. Harrie watched her abdomen twitch, covered with his cum.

"Shit," she said. "Shit, fuck..."

She rubbed her thighs together, a spike of arousal cleaving a burning path between her legs. Snape's hand slipped under her clothes, curved around her bare hip.

"Please," she said again, so desperately she would have been embarrassed if she hadn't been drowning in her need.

He made a soft soothing noise, and his hand moved to where she wanted it, creeping beneath her skirt and her tights, into her knickers. His fingers prodded at her hot, wet entrance, his touch careful. She seized fistfuls of his robes, canted her hips toward him, urgently. He seemed to understand what she was wordlessly asking for, pushed two fingers inside her without any more consideration, hard and deep. She gasped her pleasure, her whole body going rigid at the perfect friction.

Yes, yes, yes, more...

She tried to tell Snape, but all that got out of her mouth was a helpless whine. He huffed against her neck, his tongue swiping over her scent gland.

"Come for your Alpha," he growled.

He moved his fingers inside her, roughly. It only took three pumps before she was unraveling, her channel spasming in bliss, her head thrown back, every atom in her body screaming in gratitude as the strongest orgasm of her life overtook her.

Trembling against Snape, she closed her eyes while she got her breath back. He pulled his fingers out of her, and she heart him mutter a quick Scourfigy, which cleaned the entire mess they had made, his cum on her and her own arousal which had soaked into her knickers.

When she opened her eyes, he had tidied up his clothing. She did the same, pulling down her sweater, fixing her skirt. Their gazes met, his eyes unreadable now. He stepped back, then turned away from her.

She bit her lips.

"That was—"

"A mistake," he said. "It will not happen again. Do you understand, Potter?"

"A mistake, my arse. That was incredible and you know it."

His hands flexed, the line of his shoulders tensing.

"It will not happen again," he repeated, his voice cold enough to flash freeze her insides. "Tell me you understand."

"I don't. I want this, you want this, why not make both our lives a little less miserable if we can? Voldemort could attack tomorrow, so—"

He rounded on her.

"Don't say his name," he snapped, his teeth flashing.

"He could, though. Would you regret this, if you died tomorrow? Or would you regret not doing more?"

He shook his head at her, his dark eyes glinting.

"Potter," he groaned with exasperation, like she was being particularly obtuse, missing something obvious.

"I don't care that I'm your student. I don't care that—"

"I'm the reason your parents are dead," he said.

Silence claimed the room. Harrie had gone still. She blinked a couple of times, absorbing the sentence. Snape stared down at her, his mouth set into a thin, bitter line.

"I'm the reason they're dead," he said again. "I told the Dark Lord about Trelawney's prophecy. I made you an orphan. You should hate me. You should despise me. You should be disgusted by my very presence."

"I knew that already."

The silence was far thicker this time. Snape swallowed, his eyes wide, his face displaying his shock.

"You knew?"

"Yes. Dumbledore told me last year. I hated you a lot more then, and for the record, I do hate you now. But I don't despise you. You didn't know what the prophecy truly meant. You didn't know he'd go after me, after my parents. So you see, you're wrong. The Dark Lord killed my parents, not you."

She peeled off from the wall, sticking out her chin.

"That's not going to make me run away. Try again, Professor. What else can you throw at me so you don't have to confront the way you feel?"

"There are no feelings," he bit out. "Only lust."

"I'm not asking for more."

He laughed then, something broken and small.

"I'm not a good man, Potter."

She rolled her eyes.

"Like I haven't noticed after years of you being an arsehole to me. And I don't even mind, that's who you are, I'm not expecting you to change. But you know what would make it all better? More of whatever the hell just happened, because that was bloody fantastic."

She put on her scarf, didn't miss the way his gaze flitted to her neck.

"And I really hope Voldemort doesn't show up tomorrow, because I want more," she added. "Now I'm gonna go masturbate thinking of your cock. Good night."

He stayed silent and still as she left, and for once in the history of their interactions, she got the last word.

Chapter Text

"Call Julian and tell him I want to talk."

"Yes, your Grace," the guard said.

Rowena paced in her room, waiting for the arshole to arrive. They had rehearsed the plan with Julian, her Julian. She was nervous about one part in particular, a part they both hated. Unfortunately, it was the most necessary part of the plan. The fake Julian was an exceptional wizard, not easily surprised or bested, so he needed to be distracted.

Very thoroughly distracted.

Five minutes later he was there, entering her room like he owned it already, looking at her like he owned her, too. She hit him with a burst of her Omega pheromones. His pupils dilated, a slow smile spreading on his handsome face.

"You've finally seen reason," he said, a deep Alpha growl in his voice.

"Yes," she said.

She looked down and made a soft enticing noise, like the perfect little Omega he wanted, small and obedient, waiting for his dominance. He stepped forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and crushed his lips to hers.

It felt like nothing. No spark, no heat coursing through her, no reaction beyond simple disgust as he shoved his slimy tongue in her mouth, like a moist snake. She still made a noise of pleasure, rolling her hips against him like she couldn't wait for more, pretending, pretending.

Distracting.

"Avada Kedavra."

There was a flash of green, and then Rowena was holding a corpse. She lowered him down to the floor slowly, without any noise.

"Are you all right?" the real Julian asked, stepping from his hiding place from where he had fired the spell.

"I've got a horrible taste in my mouth, but that will pass. Quickly, let's not waste time."

Together they stripped the corpse, and Julian undressed t o put on the clothes of his twin. Then he vanished the body, leaving no evidence of the switch.

When they stepped out of her room, Rowena knew they would face the future together. They would marry, fix their kingdom's flaws from the inside, and spend their lives at each other's sides, happy and united in purpose.

The next paragraphs were another sex scene. Harrie tried reading it to see if this one was better.

His hands roamed over her luscious curves, possessing every inch of them. His mouth took hers in a passionate kiss as his turgid member conquered her moist secret cavern. Their tongues battled for dominance, but she submitted quickly. He was her Alpha, and she loved surrendering to him. When she came, she screamed herself hoarse, her pleasure shattering the very heavens.

"Moist secret cavern? How could anyone write this?" Harrie groaned.

She skimmed the rest of the scene. There were more heaving breasts, and references to girthy Alpha cock. At least she knew what that looked like now. The heroine had multiple orgasms and at the end she took the Alpha's knot, whatever that was. Then they proclaimed their eternal love for each other. That scene was sappy and unrealistic, and Harrie skipped it too, somehow annoyed by the happiness of fictional characters.

That night, she found sleep in her Alpha's warm embrace, read the last line.

Harrie closed the book, groaning. She wouldn't have minded an Alpha's warm embrace. If only life could be that simple. If only Snape could get his head out of his arse and realize what they could have. Not love, of course, no. But some hot sex maybe followed by some light cuddling, that was perfectly doable.

And here she went fantasizing about Snape again. It had been several days since the handjob incident, as she called it, and he was steadily ignoring her. It stung, unreasonably so. She shouldn't be pining after Severus Snape, yet she was, and every night in her bed she masturbated to the thought of him, picturing his cock. She was pretty sure he was also thinking of her when he wanked off.

She had considered knocking on his door one night and inviting herself in, to ask him to fuck her, but that seemed too rash even for her. Since she lacked experience in the matters of boys, she sought Hermione's advice.

"How do I convince a guy to be my sex friend?"

After some spluttering sounds and some blushing, Hermione gathered her thoughts and asked her questions in turn.

"Are you sure the guy is interested?"

"Yes."

"Have you tried telling him plainly that you want to have sex? You have to be very clear, some guys can't read hints at all."

"I was very clear."

"And he said no?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

"For good reasons?"

"For stupid reasons. He thinks I shouldn't want him, and that... that he doesn't deserve it. But he does."

Hermione frowned. Harrie hoped that she wouldn't be able to work out they were talking about Snape.

"In that case, I don't really see what you can do, Harrie, except hope he'll change his mind."

"Hope," Harrie groaned. "Yeah, it's all I have."

Hermione gave her a commiserating smile.

Later that day, Harrie tracked down Luna to gave her her book back.

"So, did you like it?" Luna asked.

"The plot was all right. I skipped the sex scenes, and I think the author is much too obsessed with breasts."

"I have another one if you want, same author. Actually, it's a special edition, signed by the author himself."

"Er, I don't know..."

Luna had already shoved the book in her hands. Taken by the Alpha king, read the title, while the cover depicted another couple nearly identical to the previous one, with the expected muscles and large breasts.

"You'll tell me what you think of it!" Luna said with so much enthusiasm Harrie could only nod in resignation.

She put the book in the right pocket of her robes, headed back to Gryffindor's Tower. She was walking quickly, her mind preoccupied, and she wasn't especially watching where she was going. Upon turning a corner, she collided into someone, violently. Her cheek met a hard chest, and she recoiled with a gasp, stumbling. A hand curled around her biceps, swift, steadying her, as the most delicious smell clouded her senses.

"Watch it, Potter," said precisely the voice she didn't want to hear right now.

"Sorry, sir, but you also ran into me."

Snape glowered at her. She really had to tell him she found it hot now. Or not, because then he'd stopped doing it. But it didn't work at all as a deterrent.

"You can let go of me," she pointed out, glancing down at his long fingers wrapped around her arm.

He blinked, released her.

"Where were you off to in such a hurry?" he inquired in a soft drawl.

Which reminded her of the book, and when she shifted, its weight was missing in her pocket, which meant, fuck—

It was on the ground, in plain sight. She dove for it, like it was the Snitch and catching it was the winning move. Snape was faster.

"Accio Potter's book," he said.

The book shot into his hands, whizzing past Harrie, who grunted. She straightened up, looking Snape in the eye.

"Thank you for retrieving that," she said, in her most level voice, pretending he wasn't holding erotic literature. "Can I have it back?"

"No, you may not," he said, quickly sliding the book into his own pocket. "I have confiscated it."

Items Snape confiscated were never seen again. Harrie bristled.

"Please, it's not my book, I—"

"It was in your possession."

"Luna lent it to me. She'll be expecting it back."

"Then you'll have to explain to Miss Lovegood that you've lost her book," Snape replied in a bored tone. "I'm sure you can buy her another."

"Actually, I can't. It's a special signed edition, and... and it's got sentimental value, so please, Professor, if you could just..."

Snape's eyes had narrowed, and he didn't wait for Harrie to finish her plea. He walked off without another word, leaving her dismayed and a bit offended. He thought he could steal her book and then act like she didn't exist? She'd show him.

She stomped back to the Tower, and began hatching her plan.

Later that night, she checked the Marauder's Map to make sure Snape was where he needed to be. Asleep, in his quarters. The first time she did, at around midnight, he was still patrolling the corridors.

She saw him run into Mathilda Walker, a third-year Hufflepuff who often sneaked away to the kitchen during the night. The two dots stood face to face on the Map for a moment, and Harrie could imagine Snape berating Mathilda, and docking her House points. Then the 'Mathilda' dot headed back towards the Hufflepuff's common room, while Snape prowled the length of the first floor.

She checked again an hour later, and he was back in his office. Not in his room, though. What was he doing?

"Go to bed, Snape," she muttered.

Half an hour later, he had finally tucked in for the night. She stared at the Map for another ten minutes, but his dot didn't move. Satisfied, she grabbed her invisibility cloak and slipped out of bed. It was around two a.m, and while she had hoped she'd be able to do this earlier, the late hour wouldn't stop her.

She liked wandering around the castle after dark, hidden under her cloak, traversing the corridors like a ghost. It felt like she was an explorer in a unknown land, about to discover secrets and treasures. Hogwarts also felt different at night, more dangerous, more mysterious, with new, added shadows that she wanted to shine light on.

But tonight wasn't about Hogwarts. It was about Snape.

She reached his office, whispered a quick Alohomora, and slipped in through the open door, closing it softly behind her. The tip of her wand cast a weak light around the office. She had dimmed her Lumos intentionally; the full spell was too blinding to use with the cloak.

Now, where might he keep the items he confiscated? It wouldn't be in his bedroom, that would be far too personal, and Snape didn't do personal. Which meant the book was here, somewhere in his office.

She took a few careful steps, mindful of the fact that Snape was asleep in the adjacent room. Was he a light sleeper? She felt the answer was a yes. He was a spy, after all. She doubted he slept well either.

The light of her wand was reflected by the glass bottles and metal curios he kept on the shelves. She recognized a Remembrall that he must have taken from another student. The book wouldn't be on display, though. Maybe he had destroyed it. The thought made her wince. Still, it was perfectly possible, considering his odd reaction to the first book, in the library...

She approached his desk. There was nothing on it, not even a stray paper. She looked into the first drawer, found a bunch of letters, an Extendable Ear from Wealeys' Wizard Wheezes, a Screaming Yo-Yo, some Nosebleed Nougats, and a bunch of other prank items that must have annoyed Snape to no end.

Then she checked the next drawer, and bingo, there it was. Grabbing her prize, she smiled to herself. He'd suspect it was her, of course, but he would have no way to prove it, and... She froze as her gaze fell on the back of the book, where the author's signature was. The name sprawled in black ink over the forest background of the cover, Seabert Syndercombe, written in slanted letters, and the two capital S, with such a familiar shape. A shape she'd seen before, countless times.

Harrie's heart skipped a beat, her mouth going dry, hardly believing what she was seeing. It was like her brain had already drawn the conclusion, and there she was, trying very hard to walk it back, to make herself think something else, because it couldn't be, it couldn't...

A hand fell on her shoulder, gripping her hard. She was shoved against the wall, her back hitting it abruptly as the cloak slipped off her. The tip of a wand dug into the hollow of her throat, a menacing shape looming over her. The lights came up in the room, and she was looking into Snape's face, etched with a disapproving sneer.

"Potter. What a surprise," he said in a droll tone.

In other circumstances, she would have rallied with a clever retort, but the revelation she had just undergone had sort of exploded her brain into bits, and now she had to built it back before she could attempt to speak.

"Skulking around my office like a common criminal," Snape went on.

"Snape," she finally managed, wincing against the pressure of his wand.

"That is my name, yes."

"Syndercombe is a terrible pseudonym, what were you thinking?"

His faced dropped into slack, vulnerable surprise, before it hardened in a cold mask, his eyes going flinty.

"The writing isn't that good either," she said, "although the plot was resolved nicely. And there's too many mentions of heaving breasts. I'd say your fetish is showing. Sir."

His wand dug further into her throat, painfully so. She swallowed, a shiver zipping down her spine. She wasn't wearing a scarf, since she hadn't planned on anyone seeing her, and Snape's gaze dropped to her throat. It lingered there for a couple of breath-stealing seconds, then he met her eyes again.

"Do you think that changes anything, stupid girl? You're out of bed after curfew, and you broke into my office, showing little regard for the rules of the school as well as my privacy. That's enough to land you in detention for the rest of the year."

"Right, detention. Because all you want is being stuck in the same room as me."

That was sarcasm, but then she realized that, actually...

"You wanted this," she said.

He arched an eyebrow.

"You confiscated that book on purpose. You knew I'd want it back, and you knew I'd sneak into your office. You wanted to get me there."

She got a cold, disinterested glare in answer, as if she didn't know what she could do to him, as if he hadn't coated her belly with his cum a few days ago.

"So I could do what, Potter? What did you imagine would happen?"

The sneer was back in full force, and God help her but it was hot.

"The famous Harrie Potter, thinking herself so irresistible that her professor cannot keep his hands off her?" Snape said, his voice a lash of cutting sarcasm.

"That's not—"

He stepped closer, and she gasped at his body heat, at his scent, both overwhelming, but most importantly, she gasped at the thigh he slid between her legs, at the sudden pressure when he pushed up, nearly lifting her feet off the floor. Her hands scrambled for a second before she grabbed at him, letting out a undignified whine, her eyes going wide, a sudden rush of heat flooding her cunt.

Shit, what was he doing? And he hadn't taken his wand off her throat, which somehow made it hotter, to be held at wandpoint, to have the hard tip of it right over her fluttering pulse.

"The sheer arrogance of you," Snape breathed, "boggles my mind."

It was hard to focus on his voice when all she could think of was that delicious, cruel pressure between her legs. She made a valiant effort, opened her mouth to defend herself.

"This—isn't—"

"Did you truly think that I wouldn't be able to control myself because you smell so good, Potter? That I'd be so weak I'd lose all common sense and decide to fuck a student?"

She shook her head, whimpering, her hands clenching in the flowing sleeves of his black pyjamas.

"Or were you hoping to find me awake? Did you plan to sneak into my bedroom, too, to watch me in secret?"

And now he was grinding his thigh, right against her dripping sex, and every nerve in contact with the firmness of his thigh was screaming, lit on fire by the friction. She was panting, the heat and the pressure so acute it qualified as torture.

"Do you think," he said, his face spasming, his eyes burning black, "that I spend every night wanking myself raw to the thought of your delicious little body, thinking of all the ways I could ravage it?"

His voice was just a growl at this point, every syllable roughened and warped, dipped in cloying lust, searing with anger.

"Snape," she whined. "Oh, God..."

"And I would ravage you, Potter," he said, punctuating the words with a devastating grind and roll of his thigh that nearly made her sob. "I would wreck you, utterly, until the only thing left in that foolhardy brain of yours is my name, screamed from your pretty lips as you come for me."

She made a sound she had never made in her life, a high-pitched whimpery mewl, so blatantly sexual she would have been mortified if she hadn't been right on the cusp of an incredible orgasm.

And then, pinned to the wall by Snape's wand, by his knee and his hard gaze, she came. Hard, and with his name on her lips, a rolling wave of bliss blasting its way down her thighs, up her chest, resonating through her whole body. Her eyes stayed locked with Snape's during the entire onslaught of pleasure, as she trembled and moaned and came all over his thigh. He watched her with ravenous intensity, as if committing every detail to memory, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Fuck," Harrie breathed once it was over.

She felt dizzy, wiped out by her orgasm. When Snape removed his thigh and stepped back, her legs wobbled, and she had the wall to thank for not falling on her arse. She looked up at Snape, unsure where to go from here.

"Leave," he said.

Just this one word, polite and clipped and commanding. He was pretending very hard that nothing had happened. Boldly, she glanced down to his groin. His pyjamas trousers made it clear how aroused he was, failing to hide the considerable bulge. She licked her lips.

"Can I watch, sir?"

She made sure to look him in the eyes for the next part.

"Can I watch when you pleasure yourself, thinking of how hard I came for you just then?"

He let out a growl, and his wand was back, pressed to her lips in a threatening gesture.

"Not another word out of that insolent mouth."

She must have lost her mind, as well as all sense of shame and self-preservation, because her tongue darted out, and she licked the length of his wand, one quick kitten lick. Snape stared, transfixed. She did it again, this time a long, slow lick, as sensual as she could make it. She had only gotten halfway through it when she was seized by rough hands, yanked off the wall and pushed down to the desk, in a flurry of movements that left her dizzy, her cheek pressed against the wood.

Snape's hand rested at the small of her back, heavy and hot. She wasn't sure what to do with her own hands, so she put them on the desk, along with her wand that she'd been gripping all this time.

"How presumptuous, Potter, to think that I would let you watch," Snape drawled.

She felt his hand fist into the material of her robes. He pushed them to the side, paused. She panted out a moan, renewed desire pooling like fire between her thighs.

"No, you won't be seeing anything."

Slowly, he flipped up her skirt, then tugged down her tights and her knickers, letting his fingers trail on her skin in soft feathering touches that she swore were designed to drive her insane. She resisted the urge to squirm, to beg him, to spread her legs and arch her back like she was a fucking cat in heat.

Finally, finally, her arse was bare, and Snape was palming it, first the right cheek, then the left. He hummed, squeezing her flesh before he let go.

"You will stay here like a good little Omega while I come all over your arse, and then you will thank me for it."

"Yes, sir," she moaned.

"My, my, Potter, how obedient you are. Was that all it took to tame you?"

"Fuck you, sir."

His open palm met her arse with force, a sharp crack echoing through the room. She yelped, her toes curling, lust burning through her mercilessly, as if she hadn't already come once.

"Any disrespect will be punished," Snape said, coldly.

"Fuck you," she said, again.

He immediately delivered another slap, harder than the first one, and the sting of it was so good it should have been illegal. She hadn't even thought about spanking as a sexual thing. It turned out she liked it a whole lot.

Is this because I'm an Omega? Or would I have liked it anyway?

"You little masochist," Snape said, caressing her burning arse. "I can see your cunt glistening. Is this what you want?"

"No."

He spanked her once more, and she moaned shamelessly.

"You're a terrible liar, Potter."

His hand was back, palming her arse roughly. She heard the shifting of clothes, guessed he was getting his cock out, started turning her head so she could see, and—

She groaned at the sudden pain of Snape's hand swatting her.

"Eyes ahead," he ordered.

Her bottom throbbed, and each hit had been more painful than the last. She vaguely wondered where her limit was. Then she wondered if Snape knew—no, how could he? If he cared—yes, she knew he did.

"Please," she huffed, unsure of what she was asking for.

To be spanked? To be fucked? To be covered with his cum?

"Shh, good girl. Stay still."

His voice settled over her like a heavy blanket, warm, comforting. She sagged against the desk, surrendering. To Snape, screamed a little voice in her head. You're surrendering to Snape! But she trusted him, and she wanted whatever he was gonna do.

The room filled with a slick sound, skin on skin, the noise rhythmic. She imagined it since she was denied the sight, pictured his large fingers wrapped around his length, pumping while he stared at her arse. Her red arse.

His fingers brushed against her cunt, and she shuddered, then groaned as he kept teasing her, petting her soaked folds. He wasn't touching her clit, wasn't putting any fingers inside her either. He simply caressed her enough to make her want, and she was pretty sure he didn't intend to sate that want this time.

"You're a bastard," she said, clenching her hands, her chest heaving.

"I believe that is well established, yes," he replied.

Then he slapped her sex, one firm hard swat across the whole length of her cunt. She howled, a spike of raw pain/pleasure skewering her. Holy shit, what? Her body trembled, her brain scrambling to recover.

"God, I could ruin you," he growled. "Would you even stop me if I pushed in? Or would you arch your back and welcome my prick in that virgin cunt, welcome the pain of me splitting you open?"

She bit her lower lip, imagining it now, him sinking inside her until he was seated balls deep.

"I'd take you, sir," she said. "I'd take everything you'd give me."

She had never imagined her first time would look like this, nor that it would be with Snape, of all people, but she was ready for him.

"You haven't earned my cock yet."

She hissed at him, unthinkingly. His hand came down on her arse, the flash of pain deliciously dark. The slick sound of his fist working over his cock increased in pace, and she squirmed, couldn't help it, helplessly turned on at the idea of him coming on her arse. Her body felt feverishly hot, lust consuming her.

He kneaded one arsecheek, groaning, and she mewled in response. His thumb wandered near her arsehole, brushed it, exerting the lightest of pressure. He paused, perhaps expecting her to protest.

She didn't.

The pressure returned, firmer. She heard him murmur a spell, something that sounded like 'Lubrico', and his thumb felt coated in a cold liquid, which he applied to her hole. Ten percent of her brain went 'oh, there are sex spells?', while the remaining ninety percent were focused on that thumb, half-hoping and half-dreading that he would slip it in.

And he did. He pushed his entire thumb in, in a slow, steady advance, until it was lodged in her arse. Fuck, that was dirty. Wrong. And so incredibly arousing. Her breath came in ragged little pants, her cunt pulsing on its own.

Going by the noises Snape was making, rough grunts punctuating the wet slide of his hand on his cock, he was equally affected.

"Look at you," he said, and she had never heard his voice sound so wicked. "You take it so well."

He moved his thumb, in and out, fucking her arse with it. Her spine rippled, her body swarmed by confusing pleasure. Where was it even coming from? He had his thumb in her arse! Had it become an erogenous zone while she wasn't looking?

"You're perfect," Snape growled. "Perfect arse... perfect cunt... perfect—fuck—Omega..."

He gave a low snarl, and she felt ropes of wet heat land on her arse, stinging over her sensitive flesh. She gasped, toes curling, cunt clenching, as he unloaded more cum on her, until she was sure there wasn't a single inch of her arse that wasn't glistening with his release. Not that she was complaining. She must have had reservations about being covered in Snape's cum at some point, but they were long gone by now, along with any sense of shame.

She moaned when he removed his thumb from her arse, a burst of pleasure shocking her system.

"Please," she said.

"I've indulged you enough, you little minx."

His tone was at once cold and fond, like he hated her but loved that he hated her, and no, that didn't make any sense. She was probably reading too much into it.

"Go fuck yourself," she grunted at him.

"Consider yourself lucky I don't dock you House points for that, and even luckier that I won't assign you detention."

That made her frown.

"Wait. No detention?"

She thought for sure his threat of detentions for the rest of the year had been serious.

"No," he confirmed, and while she was wallowing in confusion, he started redressing her, pulling up her knickers and tights, without even cleaning her.

She grasped her wand, but his hand came down on her wrist, stopping her. She moaned again, a pitiful aroused sound. His fingers were still wet from what they'd been doing, namely stroking his cock.

"You are not going to clean yourself," he said, pulling her skirt neatly back into place. "You are going to walk back to your dormitories with my cum all over that shapely arse of yours, because you're mine. Is that understood?"

She'd been wrong. There still remained some shame in her, enough to make her gasp at what Snape was asking. This was depraved. This was perverse. This was...

"Yes, I understand."

What she wanted.

Snape let go of her wrist, and bent over her, so the next words he spoke were directly into her ear.

"And then when you touch yourself, and I know you will, Potter, you are going to imagine my cock stretching that little cunt. Tell me, how many fingers do you use?"

Fuck, what a question for him to be asking.

"Two, sir."

"Tonight you will use three."

She swallowed thickly, couldn't resist the question that sprung to her lips.

"Are you giving me homework, Professor?"

He chuckled, a dark, husky sound, and if anyone else had heard it, they would have instantly known it to be a sexual noise.

"Yes, I am. And I expect you to complete your task with all the thoroughness you usually do not display in my classroom, but which I know you to be capable of."

Of all the things this evening, that oblique compliment might have been the most surprising of all—and yes, that included the thumb in her arse.

"I'll do my best," she said.

He licked her ear, which was so unfair, then stepped back completely. She pushed herself up, and while her legs supported her, she felt a bit as if she were drunk, the world fizzy around the edges, a strange bubbliness in her chest. Gathering her robes around herself, she gripped her wand, turned to Snape.

Did she expect him to look different? She wasn't sure. Things were definitely different between them. But he was still Snape, and when her gaze lingered on his face, he looked back at her with a cool indifference that was so convincing she envied him.

"How do you do it? Lie so well?"

A small smile tugged at his lips.

"It will take more than that to get me to spill my secrets," he said. "Now, you should really get back to your bed. You have class early in the morning."

"History of Magic. It's basically a two-hours nap."

"I'll be sure to pass along that sentiment to Professor Binns."

She shrugged. He handed her the invisibility cloak, which she gratefully took from his hands. A month ago, he would have delighted in confiscating it from her.

"Don't forget your book," he said pointedly, handing her the book as well.

She accepted it with a growing smile.

"So, heaving breasts..."

"Don't start, Potter. There are certain conventions in these type of novels, and I simply endeavor to meet them. The more cliché the writing, the better they sell, and the more money I get. Potions ingredients don't come cheap, and the school budget is sorely lacking."

"Cliché. Right. So you don't, uh..."

Do you like big boobs, sir? was what she wanted to ask, but the ridiculousness of the question was stopping it from coming out.

Snape saw right through her.

"As I told you before, your breasts are fine."

"You haven't even seen them," she retorted.

"And I look forward to that reveal."

Oh.

He wants to see my breasts! a little voice in her head celebrated.

Of course he does, another voice said. He just came on your arse.

"Do you want to come on my breasts next time?" she said.

His eyes got so dark they seemed to siphon the light from the room.

"Bed, Potter."

"Yours?"

She knew she was pushing it, that there was no way he'd let her into his bedroom. Not tonight, anyway.

"No, you insatiable little monster. Besides, how could you complete your homework if you were in my bed?"

She opened her mouth to fire off a smart answer, but he was faster.

"The second you would put your fingers in your cunt, I'd rip them out and replace them with my cock. And then neither of us would get to sleep tonight."

"That doesn't sound so terrible."

He gave her a hard stare, coupled with a disapproving smirk.

"You have no idea what you're asking for. This isn't like in the erotic novels you've been reading. I would not—"

He bit himself off, shook his head.

"Go to bed. This is neither the time nor the place to have this discussion."

"The discussion about you putting your cock inside me, sir?" she asked innocently.

"Bed," he growled again.

And he slapped her on the arse, which was so deliciously dirtybadwrong, because all his cum was still there, wetting her clothes, dripping down the back of her thighs.

"Yes, sir," she squeaked out, hurrying to the door.

Her hand on the handle, she cast him one last glance. He leveled his dark gaze back at her, and that was what she took with her before she left, that contemplative, cold, pure Snape look that, somehow, through the mysteries of hormonal confusion, had become attractive.

But it wasn't just hormonal confusion, she reflected as she glided through Hogwart's corridors, excruciatingly aware of the cum coating her arse. While the whole thing had started because she was an Omega, it had become more than that, at least to her. She didn't just want Snape as an Alpha, she wanted... she wanted Snape, all of him. And it was strange, because she still hated him. That hadn't changed. She was pretty sure he still hated her too.

Did she really want her first time to be with someone who hated her? No, that wasn't the right question. Did she want her first time to be with Snape?

Yes, was her immediate, gut reaction.

And why not? He was experienced. He was hot. He wanted her as well. What more could she ask for? Love? While that might have been nice, love would have actually been unwelcome at this stage of her life, where Voldemort could have killed her at any moment. At least there would be no attachments with Snape. He wouldn't expect anything from her. It would be uncomplicated.

Yes, she decided as she slipped back into the Gryffindor quarters. Snape was the right choice. And she was fairly confident she wouldn't have to work too hard to convince him.

Back in her bed, she hastily cast a privacy Charm, then peeled off her tights and stuck her hand between her legs. She was dripping, fuck. The second she touched herself, a whine built in her throat, hissing out through her lips. The fact that she was still covered in cum made her arousal skyrocket. For a second, she thought about scooping some up and using it as additional lube, but then she remembered Hermione's words about Omegas being incredibly fertile, and oops, worst idea, actually. She would need to talk to Snape about that if he kept ejaculating all over her.

Panting, her blood carrying fire, she did the assigned homework. She was so slippery down there she had no trouble cramming three fingers in her cunt, and then from there it took her about thirty seconds to reach her peak, groaning and writhing, fucking herself with her fingers, imagining they were Snape's cock.

She came so hard she collapsed into a trembling heap, ceasing to breathe for long seconds. Her lungs hiccuped back to life, and she lay there for a long time, so warm and so happy, blissed out on that post-orgasm feeling.

Eventually, she groped for her wand, muttered a quick cleaning spell. Then she drew the blanket over herself, and fell asleep like that, with the last whiffs of Snape's scent lingering around her, feeling safe and cared for.

Chapter Text

Bloody Potter.

He should have known she would turn out to be an Omega. The girl was incredibly skilled at complicating his life, and every year she added another problem on top of the considerable pile he was already juggling with. This was this year's crop, and the worst of it all yet.

She had no sense about it, as always. Asking inane questions, scenting in his classroom... and now sneaking into his office. He stared at the door she had just closed. It was around three in the morning, he should have been sleeping, and instead he had come over Potter's arse, while his thumb was lodged in her arsehole.

Her lack of sense was contagious.

He thought about that last look she had given him before slipping out of the room. Her green eyes had pondered him, a serious expression on her face. He hoped she regretted everything and wouldn't pursue this any further. Then he snorted at the thought. Potter being sensible? That was about as likely as Longbottom successfully brewing a potion.

No, she wouldn't stop. Not now that she had managed to get her claws in him.

He had tried to resist her. Oh, how he had tried. He had ignored her scent, her deliciously alluring scent, that initial kick of strong smoky spices followed by a heady, sweeter aftertaste. He had ignored the subtle curves of her body her robes hinted at, had averted his eyes from her round bottom whenever she bent over her cauldron. He had ignored the way she looked at him, and he had planned to reject any advances she'd make.

Keyword, planned.

Potter had always been exceptional at throwing a wrench in his plans.

Sneaking into his office, in the middle of the night, while not wearing a scarf, flashing her scent gland around. He thought intimidation was a valid tactic, but the little brat had gotten off on it. And then she had licked his wand.

He only had so much self-control.

And she had a spectacular arse.

I'm going to hell.

It was far from the first time the thought had occurred. He was an undercover Death Eater, and that required some sacrifices. His conscience wasn't clean. He had accepted it, but this... this was wholly different. He had never thought he'd find himself lusting after a student, and even worse, acting on it. And not just any student.

Potter.

Stubborn, reckless, infuriating Potter.

She was going to ruin him, if he didn't ruin her first. Or they'd ruin each other.

He went back to bed, attempted to sleep. As soon as he closed his eyes, images flooded in. Potter's red arse, covered with his spunk. Her fluttering arsehole, accepting his thumb so readily. Her wet cunt, glistening with arousal, ready for him to—

He groaned, cutting that thought short.

This was ridiculous.

He was Severus Snape, the best Occlumens of his generation, able to fool Lord Voldemort himself. He shouldn't have been tormented by such images. By such lust, Alpha hormones be damned.

It had never meant much to him that he was an Alpha. He didn't fit the typical profile. He wasn't handsome, he wasn't muscled, he wasn't arrogant. He had kept his status a secret, except from Dumbledore, who had guessed it, and from Voldemort, who, being one himself, valued Alphas more. He had never thought it'd be relevant in any way. He had done much research on the subject, necessary to brew the heat-suppressant potions that sold so well, but he had never wanted to have an Omega. The few he had met his life hadn't smelled half as good as Potter.

And now, he could have her.

Right now, she must have been in her bed, stuffing her cunt full with her fingers. What had possessed him to give her that order? His cock twitched as he pictured her, putting three fingers inside her so studiously. Homework indeed.

He rolled on his back, considering the future.

Reason dictated he should stay away from her.

All the rest of him clamored for her.

He wanted to corner her in a secluded corridor, push her against the wall, and rut against her while licking her neck. He wanted to come on her breasts, which he had imagined so many times. He wanted to make her choke on his prick until she forgot her own name. He wanted to have her in his bed, take her from behind the way Alphas took their Omegas, and then knot her, so she'd know without a doubt whom she belonged to.

He had already done far too much. If she told anyone about this, he'd be in real trouble. He was supposed to protect the girl, not fuck her.

You can do both, growled the Alpha inside him.

With considerable effort, he shut all thoughts of Potter out of his head, and focused on sleeping.

He dreamed of her, of course.

*

"Severus, would you pass the jam?"

He handed the requested item to Minerva, went back to buttering his toast.

"That... isn't the jam," she said.

"My mistake."

He gave her the jam this time, took up his knife again, and applied butter where it needed to be. He was focused. He wasn't thinking of Potter. He wasn't looking at Potter.

He could smell her from across the room, and this morning her alluring scent seemed to him like a taunt. Like she was purposefully throwing it at him. But she wasn't, and he knew it must be because of last night's events. Because he was tired of resisting her. Because he didn't want to resist her anymore.

She was laughing, saying something to Miss Granger. He hadn't meant to look at her. His eyes had been drawn to her, unconsciously. Blasted Potter.

"I hope you're not being too hard on her, Severus."

It was only because he had exceptional mastery over his emotions and was a triple agent who brushed death every day that he did not betray himself. His hand paused for a fraction of a second before he resumed his actions.

"I'm being exactly as hard as I need to be," he said.

Pity no one could appreciate the double meaning in that sentence but him.

"Has she asked questions?" Minerva said.

He allowed himself a sigh, brief, contained.

"Yes. Many."

"And you've..."

"I've answered every single one of them."

Minerva made an encouraging noise.

"She needs guidance, Severus. She already had so much pressure on her shoulders, and now this... She needs someone to lean onto."

"I hardly think I should be that someone. The girl hates me."

"I agree," Minerva said. "In an ideal world, it shouldn't be you. In an ideal world, there would be another teacher or authority figure she could confide into, someone knowledgeable and whom Harrie would trust. Preferably a woman, and an Omega herself."

"Most unfortunately, we do not live in an ideal world."

"Indeed," Minerva said. When she spoke next, her voice was lower. "I wanted to thank you, Severus. For agreeing to this. I know it mustn't be easy."

You have no idea.

"We all have our burdens to bear," he said in a disinterested voice. "Mine includes Potter."

At that moment, as if the girl had heard, she glanced toward him. He glared at her, quite naturally so. She glared back. Good. She wasn't going to give anything away. He'd been half-afraid she would gaze at him in a compromising manner, would look at him the way she did when they were alone, green eyes filled with want and lust and need. Thank Merlin she wasn't so stupid as to do that.

Her stare turned challenging, before she looked away. And then she licked her spoon, her little pink tongue peaking out, swirling around. Slow. Purposeful.

He was going to kill her.

His hand clenched around his knife when she did it again. He willed himself to look away, didn't manage it, watched her lick the spoon a third time, even as she was back to talking with Miss Granger, smiling. His trousers suddenly felt too tight. He shifted in his seat, finally tore his eyes away from her.

Minerva was saying something. He forced himself to pay attention.

"...concerned about her. I was hoping you could—"

"I would rather not speak of this at breakfast," he hissed through his teeth.

"Of course. I apologize."

He grumbled something that fit the situation, and carefully avoided looking Potter's way again.

Thankfully he didn't have the seventh-years in Potions today, so he didn't see more of her. That didn't stop her from plaguing his thoughts. He kept thinking about her. About her eyes, and how they had looked when she had come all over his thigh, the pupils blown out, only a slim green ring left around all that black. About her body, which she had offered him. About her scent, and he swore he could smell it several times throughout the day, but it wasn't possible, because she was nowhere near him.

"You seem distracted, Severus."

It was another staff meeting, at the end of a long day, which was the only reason he had allowed his thoughts to wander and perhaps be reflected in his expression. He smoothed his features back into perfect control, answered Minerva's remark with a small shrug.

"I'm eager to retire for the night," he said. "Papers to grade, and all that."

"Perhaps you would like to join me for tea?"

Tea? Minerva had never invited him to have tea, not once in the seventeen years they'd been colleagues. This was about Potter. Fine. He could alleviate Minerva's concerns, tell her the girl was doing fine. There had been no incident, and no loss of control on his part. She had no idea what his cock looked like. No idea at all.

"Very well," he said.

You lie to the Dark Lord all the time. Lying to Minerva is easy. She won't even Crucio you.

Unless she learned what he had done to Harrie, and then he suspected nobody would ever find his body. But he'd be fine, he told himself while he followed Minerva to her office. He wouldn't let any sliver of emotions slip in, not a single one. Master Occlumens, an accomplished spy, and—

Fuck.

"Oh hello, Professor," Harrie said.

She was sitting in Minerva's office, leveling her clear green gaze at him. She smelled divine. Her aroma filled the room, that beguiling spicy scent, and sweetness at its core. He felt his mouth water. And the way she was seated didn't help matters. Not that it was improper, no, but she had draped herself over one side of the chair, probably out of boredom, and her robes were held to the sides, showing her legs. Showing them to mid-thighs, and he had never thought anything of the standard black tights that all female students wore because he wasn't in the habit of staring at his students' legs, but right now he wanted to rip them off her.

Rip them off, spread her legs, and taste her cunt.

Oh yes, perfectly normal thoughts to have about a student.

"Miss Potter," he said.

He sounded bored. Detached. Like he didn't care to see her. Good, that was good.

"Ah, Miss Potter, you're already here," Minerva said. "I hope we didn't keep you waiting too long."

"Not at all."

Could he find an excuse to get out there? Fake an emergency? Would Minerva call his bluff if he pretended the Dark Lord was calling him, right now?

He opened his mouth to say it, say "My Mark is burning", when Harrie said "Am I in trouble?" And she looked so worried, her brow creasing, her eyes going from Severus to Minerva, anxiously, that his mouth snapped shut. He couldn't do it. He couldn't leave when she looked like this.

"I should think not," he said, casting a glance at Minerva.

She better not be in trouble.

The thought burned with some sort of fury he wasn't used to. Ah, fuck. That was the Alpha urge to protect. He had never experienced it, but he had read about it enough. There was no doubt. Yet Potter wasn't supposed to be his Omega. She couldn't be.

Except you told her she was yours last night after you came on her arse, remember?

What an absolute mess. And whatever Minerva had in mind wasn't likely to improve the situation.

"No, you're not in trouble," she said to Potter. "I called you here this evening because I'm concerned about you."

"And why is Snape here?"

"Professor Snape," he growled at her.

"Sorry, Professor," she retorted, somehow managing to strip the title of any respectfulness. "Why are you here, sir?"

"I am yet unsure. I suppose this is about your special status."

Minerva gave a nod, inviting him to sit down. He took the chair next to Potter, avoiding looking at her. If he could have avoided breathing, too, that would have been fantastic.

"Tea, Severus? Miss Potter?"

"I think we can dispense with the charade of tea," he replied tersely.

"I'll have a cup," Potter said.

"This wasn't a charade, Severus," Minerva told him with a smile. "I truly intended to have tea while we sort out this problem."

"So there is a problem," Potter groaned, accepting the cup Minerva floated over to her.

"I don't see what that could be," Severus said.

There was no problem. Everything was proceeding very, very normally. Yes. If Minerva asked Potter, he was sure she would agree. She wasn't even blushing, and she seemed to have no problem looking him in the eye. Absolutely no shame in her, which he supposed was a good thing in this instance.

"Miss Potter, your teachers have voiced concerns that you seem distracted in class lately," Minerva said. "I myself have noticed you failing to pay attention several times."

Potter made a grumpy face which was rather adorable.

Adorable? Why would you ever use that word to describe Potter? Get a hold of yourself!

"Yeah, I have some things on my mind," she said. "What with Voldemort and all. But this isn't affecting my grades, so I don't see why we have to talk about it."

"I simply wish to make sure you're doing all right, Miss Potter," Minerva said gently. "Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"A bit."

She was having trouble sleeping? Unacceptable. She needed to get the best sleep possible.

In my bed. With my cock inside her. No, don't say that. Do. Not. Say. That.

"Might I suggest, Potter, that you start taking sleeping draughts?"

There. Much better.

"I don't know if that's really necessary," she said with a shrug. "I've never slept that well."

"And you've never seen that as a problem?" he said.

She shrugged again, looked down.

"It's not that bad," she said, chewing on her lower lip. "I only wake up three or four times."

"A week?"

"No." She looked at him again, with a slight frown. "Per night."

Per night? What the—

"Potter," he started, and then stopped, unsure of what to say next.

Why didn't you say anything, you stupid girl?

Why didn't you ask for help?

I'll force-fed you a sleeping draught myself every night if I have to.

"Miss Potter," Minerva said, "you might have gotten used to a certain degree of discomfort, but there is no reason to continue to endure it when there are solutions available to you. Besides, I will remind you that you have your N.E.W.Ts at the end of the year, and being already exhausted by mid-November won't do you any favors."

"Mmm," the girl said.

No protest. No tart retort. Clearly Minerva was much more skilled at handling Potter than he was.

"Severus, if you would be so kind as to provide Miss Potter with the needed sleeping draughts? Unless it shouldn't be taken along with heat-suppressants?"

"No, the two potions can be taken together," he said. "Though not at the same time. The sleeping draught has to be ingested right before bed."

"Okay," Potter said meekly, taking a small sip of her tea. "I guess... yes, I'll take the sleeping potion, too. All the potions." She gave a little laugh. "I'm so lucky you know how to brew all those potions, Professor."

"Indeed," he said dryly.

He wanted to lick her. Right there, in front of Minerva. Lick her, and then have her on the desk.

Focus, Severus.

"Is there anything else that's bothering you?" Minerva asked. "You know Severus is available to answer any of your questions. I understand some can be embarrassing, but he won't judge you."

Not while I'm here, was the unsaid part.

Potter shifted in her seat, lowering her cup of tea into her lap. She looked at him. He looked back at her, calm and in control and calm. The very essence of calmness, he was.

She seemed to be thinking. The tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips for a second. A raging bolt of lust hit him in the gut. His cock stirred. He banished all thoughts of Potter's tongue out of his mind.

"I think I've already asked all the questions I wanted answers to," Potter said, still looking at him. "Professor Snape has helped me a lot."

Good. Perfect. He wouldn't lose his job.

"He even gave me homework on the subject."

The little demon.

"Additional homework, Severus?" Minerva said, disapproving. "The workload for the seventh-years is already considerable..."

"Oh no, it was no trouble," Potter said. "I completed it quite quickly, and very thoroughly."

The mental image created by her words was so vivid his hands clenched for a second. He would have to completely eradicate it from his mind before his next meeting with the Dark Lord. Scrub it out before that could be discovered.

"I wouldn't mind more homework like that," she added, and she smirked at him.

He was going to strangle her. No, he was going to turn her over and spank her for her sheer brazenness. He was going to make her scream for mercy.

"If there's nothing else, Minerva..." he said, in an icy tone that should have made Potter quake in her robes.

"I think that should be all," Minerva replied. "Miss Potter, do keep in mind that if there's anything else you'd like to discuss, you're always welcome in my office."

"Thank you, Professor," Potter said politely.

Why was she polite with everyone but him? Disrespectful girl. Thinking she could bait him in front of Minerva, too.

"That went well," she said once they were out in the corridor. "I really thought I was in trouble."

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the nearest broom closet.

"Hey, what are you—"

Closing the door behind them with a kick of his foot, he slammed her against the wall, both hands fisted at the front of her robes.

"Do you think this is funny, Potter?" he hissed.

"No," she said, a bit breathless, which made her voice sound very attractive, and he really didn't need that at the moment.

"Then what exactly were you doing?"

She looked down for a second, her long eyelashes fluttering, hiding the green of her eyes, and he wanted to—

I said focus, Severus!

"I won't tell anyone," she said, meeting his gaze again. "I won't, I swear."

He didn't need to read her mind to know she was being painfully honest.

"You don't have to worry about that," she added.

"I will worry about whatever I choose."

"Okay," she said, very docilely.

In fact, it was suspicious how subdued she was. She was breathing hard, staying very still, looking at him expectantly. He was sure that wouldn't last, and he was proven right when she opened her mouth.

"So do you want to hear about the homework you gave me?"

"Potter..."

"Oh, I love it when you growl my name like that."

"Control yourself," he said sharply.

He felt her shudder. He was standing very close, closer than strictly necessary. His hands were still curled in her robes. He didn't pull away.

"Not my fault you're very hot when you're angry," she muttered. "I think I have my inner Omega to blame for that, actually. I hated it before."

"Is that why you keep provoking me? To indulge in your filthy desire to see me angry?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm trying to get fucked, haven't you noticed?"

She gave him a heated look, then she licked her lips. Merlin's balls, she was relentless.

"You can't possibly think I'll fuck you in this closet."

Though it is tempting.

"Blowjob?" she offered, with a raised eyebrow.

"You think I'd trust your mouth around my cock?"

"What if I promised not to bite?"

So tempting.

"No, Potter," he said, reaching for 'reasonable' and 'level-headed', surging above the lust that he couldn't deny was thick in his veins.

"Please," she said, and how pleasing it was to hear her beg. "Please, I need—"

She bit her lips, looking at him with such need it was nearly scalding. Oh, fine.

"Make one reasonable request. I may allow it."

"Fuck me," she said.

He grabbed a hold of her hair, jerked her head back. She whimpered, the sound going straight to his cock.

"Reasonable, Potter. Try again."

"I, uh—Could you..."

She inhaled in a little gasp when he increased the pressure on her scalp, forcing her head back just a tiny bit further. How exceptionally sensitive she seemed to be.

Fun, the Alpha in him hummed.

No, not fun. This was Potter, the very antithesis of fun. The bane of his existence.

"CouldyoucheckifIdiditright?"

He was sure there was a sentence somewhere in all that babble.

"Could I, what?" he prompted, grabbing her jaw with his other hand, brushing his thumb over her lips.

She was blushing so much. And yet she had looked him straight in the eye when offering to suck his cock. Bold and bashful in turn.

"Could you check if I did it right? Please?"

Ah.

"What I'm hearing, Miss Potter, and let us be very clear, is that you want three of my fingers in your cunt. Is that it?"

"Yes, sir," she said, her tongue coming out to wet her lips. "That's exactly what I want."

"Very well. I believe that qualifies as reasonable. Spread your legs."

She complied immediately. It was staggering how much he enjoyed it. Having Potter obey him, without delay, without question. One could get addicted to that.

Keeping one hand in her hair, he trailed the other down her chest, then slipped it beneath her skirt. She tensed when his fingers found their way into her knickers. He knew Omegas produced a lot of slick when aroused, but until now, he had never experienced it for himself.

"Were you this wet in Minerva's office?"

It turned out she could blush even redder.

"No," she said, glaring at him. "It's your fault. Dragging me into that closet..."

"Are you still maintaining you're not a submissive?"

"None of your fingers are inside me."

"Say it. Say you're a submissive and I'll give you what you want."

"That wasn't the deal," she protested, looking so adorably inconvenienced.

"It is now. Say it."

She rolled her eyes. He tugged at her hair, relishing the sharp gasp that escaped her lips.

"Oh, fuck... yes, all right, I'm a submissive. I—I like when you order me around. I like when—oh!"

She gave a yelp as he sank a finger inside her, abruptly and all at once. She could take it. She was absurdly wet considering he hadn't done anything to her besides push her against the wall and grab her hair.

"That's one," he said.

"Mm-mm," she emitted, a tremor running through her.

He partially withdrew his finger, started to add a second one. She made a small noise at the back of her throat, her eyelashes fluttering.

"Two," he said as he pushed in. "Relax, Potter."

She was sinfully tight. Hot like a furnace, and so wet. She was going to feel glorious around his cock.

Oh, have you stopped pretending that won't happen? Good.

"Don't tell me to relax when you're doing this," she groaned. "Oh, fuck, more—"

She seized fistfuls of his robes, dragged him closer, gasping. He was barely moving his fingers, only sort of grinding them into her. She ground her hips back into his hand, making more lovely noises.

"Did I say you could move?" he growled, tugging sharply at her hair.

"What?"

"Did I give you permission to fuck yourself on my fingers, Potter?"

"I... what?" she said again, blinking rapidly like she couldn't quite process his question.

"No, I did not. You will stay still."

She exhaled in a whine.

"You can't—expect me to stay still, not when—"

She clenched around his fingers, hard, biting down on her lips to stop another whine from making it out.

"Not when it feels, ah... like that."

"I am, and if you don't stay still, I will remove my fingers and walk away."

"Fuck," she snarled, closing her eyes and sighing heavily, her body shuddering. "Fine. I won't move."

He waited a few seconds to see if she would actually obey. When it became apparent she had decided to be a very good girl, he rewarded her with a drive of his fingers inside her, stroking her sensitive spot.

"Oh, God," she huffed, her eyes rolling back.

"You will not come either. Not until you've got all three of the fingers you were asking for inside you."

She muttered something that contained the word 'impossible'.

"I'm sorry, aren't you the queen of the impossible?" he said, mocking. "Surely the famous Harrie Potter can stop herself from coming when she only has two fingers inside her." He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I'm not even licking you. This is barely anything, Potter."

He got a strangled groan in answer. Her channel pulsed, small tremors going through her. Then she took a deep breath and let it out all at once.

"Fine, I won't come! God, I hate you."

He licked her, letting his teeth skim the shell of her ear. She shuddered again, giving him a small mewl. Delicious.

"Such an obedient girl. Are you ready for that third finger?"

"I was ready yesterday."

He wasn't gentle. He forced a third finger in alongside the others, stretching her, pushing as deep as he could go. Her hands clenched in his robes, but she didn't move, apart from a twitch she couldn't suppress.

"Mm, you're so wet," he murmured in her ear, rubbing her from the inside. "Would you get this wet for anyone else?"

"No," she cried out. "No, just you—ah, g—"

"And why is that, Potter?"

He jabbed his fingers against the tender walls of her cunt, applying pressure to her g-spot.

"Because... because you're—"

She made a soft, pleading sound, tensing against him.

"Because I'm what?"

"My Alpha," she whined.

"That's right," he said, and bit her ear.

She convulsed, her body curling toward him, her hips jerking madly. He watched her come, like he had in his office. In the throes of pleasure, she looked decidedly un-Potter like. Her face slackened and became all vulnerable, her eyes lost that defiant spark, and she... she was even more beautiful, wasn't she? Yes, she was.

Shut up, Severus, my God. You're not in one of your romance novels!

She gave one last shudder, and then she sort of dropped down. Completely collapsed, right in his arms. He caught her, a warm weight against him. Not that much of a weight. Was she eating enough?

"Potter."

No answer. Had she fainted?

"Potter!"

She stirred, her hands going to his shoulders, made a weak noise against his chest.

"'m fine," she said, straightening a bit. "I think I went to heaven for a moment there."

Flattery, from Potter? What a day.

"Can you stand?"

"Yeah."

She leaned away from him. He found he didn't want to let her go, had to force his hands to open, his arms to fall away.

"Sorry," she said, looking at him, her eyes narrowed. "Did I worry you?"

"Not at all."

Her mouth twisted in a grin. He lied to the Dark Lord, but couldn't lie convincingly to Potter? Preposterous.

"I'll come out first," he said, grasping for some control and a severe tone. "Wait a few minutes before you leave."

She looked down, obviously trying to gauge his erection.

"You don't, um, want me to take care of you?"

Yes.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

Infuriating girl.

"If you touch me now I'll have you right here," he said plainly. "Do you really want to lose your virginity in a closet?"

That seemed to do the trick.

"I guess not," she said. "I'd rather have it happen in your bed."

"Perhaps," he replied, knowing full well he meant 'yes, absolutely'.

He turned to the door, pretending he wasn't so hard his cock was aching.

"I'll have a house elf send you a sleeping draught."

"Thanks. Good night, uh, Professor."

He hadn't missed that little pause before his title. Had she been about to call him Alpha? It was one thing to hear it from her while she was at the heights of sexual arousal, another to have her say it clear-headed.

"Good night, Potter," he said, and he got out of here before he ravished her against the wall.

The walk back to his quarters wasn't pleasant. Thankfully his frock coat hid the state of him, and he only passed by a handful of students who hurried past him without giving him a second look.

Once in his room, he headed straight to the bathroom, and into the shower. He Vanished his clothes, too impatient to disrobe manually, gripped his erection and stroked himself. Thinking of Potter. How wet she'd been for him. The small mewls he had coaxed from her lips, the tight heat of her cunt, how quickly she had come, how he had felt when she had called him her Alpha.

Her Alpha. Fuck. He was. He was her Alpha, she was his Omega, and the next time he had her alone he was going to pin her to his bed and—

He came with a grunt, spilling into his own hand, the force of the orgasm stealing the air from his lungs. Slapping one palm on the wall, he stood there for a long moment, shaking, his mind blank.

Afterward, he took a long shower, and went to bed early. Dealing with Potter had always been exhausting.

It's never felt this good, though, was his last thought before he fell asleep.

*

She licked her spoon again at breakfast. Licked it slowly, brazenly. And then glanced at him.

He regretted how merciful he had been last night. He should have turned her around, pushed her face into the wall, and fucked her with no preparation. No fingers, just his cock, shoved straight into her cunt. She would have squealed, and then she would have screamed.

He didn't have her in Potions today either. No matter. He would have her tonight. She would come to his office at eight for the renewal of the scent marking, and she'd be all his.

He strode to the dungeons, focusing his thoughts on the class he was about to teach. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw third-years, an easy, almost pain-free hour.

He turned a corner, and the scent hit him like a punch to the face. Instant lust, sizzling through his spine. He stiffened, held his breath, but he had already gotten a sniff of the heady pheromones.

That demon. The little siren. The—He had no words.

"Good morning, Professor," she said, swiftly passing by him, flashing him a sweet smile.

Throwing her please fuck me scent at him, right there in the corridor. He seriously considered dragging her into a closet again, this time to have his way with her. Violently.

"Potter," he bit out.

"Yes?" she said, halting and turning toward him, looking perfectly innocent.

"Do you remember that homework I assigned you? I suggest you practice again. I will grade you tonight. Expect no mercy."

She blushed rather spectacularly. Ha-ha. Two could play at this game.

"I'll do that, Professor," she said, and she walked off, still red as a tomato—or as her ridiculous scarf, which she was wearing again.

He entered his classroom, slamming the door behind him. Potter's scent lessened, until it was clear of his nostrils. On second thought, it was good that he didn't have her in class today because he wouldn't have been able to stand it. He would have ended up fucking her on his desk after ordering everyone else out, and then he would have had a lot of explaining to do.

"Right!" he said, facing his students. "Today we'll be brewing a Shrinking Solution. Turn to page 394."

The day progressed slowly. The students weren't particularly stupid or incompetent (he only had to evaporate three failed potions, and didn't send anyone to the infirmary), but the hours seemed to drag on. He was quite sure he had never wanted for the evening to come this ardently. He'd been half-hard all day, thinking about it.

Finally, he was done with classes. There was still dinner to go through. Potter was there, and though she glanced at him a few times, she didn't do anything with her tongue. Smart of her. She must have known it would have made it worse. Actually, she even looked a little nervous. Had she practiced? Was she wet for him right now? Merlin, the anticipation was killing him.

He would have ignored a summon from the Dark Lord himself.

Oh, that's a good opening line. You should tell her that.

Dinner ended. He went to his office, waited for her.

At eight p.m. sharp, there was a knock on his door.

"Come in."

Yes, she was nervous. He saw it in the way she looked at him when she closed the door behind her. Expectant, and excited, but nervous.

Of course she is. She's a virgin. She has no idea what to expect.

He would make it very clear for her. Striding toward her, he snatched from her hands the scarf she had just removed, then he grabbed her by the hair and backed her up against the wall.

"So," he breathed, his lips inches from hers. "Are you ready?"

Chapter Text

Harrie gulped.

Snape was looking at her like he wanted to eat her. Perhaps torture her a bit first, and then eat her. Just devour her whole. His eyes were glittering, so intense she couldn't look away. He had one hand tightly knotted in her hair, the other at her hip, and his lips were really, really close to hers.

"Ready for you to grade me, you mean?" she said, aiming for a defiant tone and not quite landing it.

"I think we both know what that euphemism stands for," he purred back, the raspy drawl of his voice making her shiver.

Oh, God. She probably could have come from his voice alone.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Not exactly sure what 'no mercy' means, though."

She had some idea, but she wanted to hear him say it. Expound upon those two words that made her belly flutter in anticipation.

He drew back slightly, smiled at her. It didn't look like one the usual smiles he gave her, taunting or mocking. This one dripped hunger and lust.

"It means, Potter, that my cock is much bigger than three of my fingers."

"I know, I've seen it," she said, this time achieving perfect defiant nonchalance.

"So you have. Do you think you can take it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Say it properly," he all but growled.

"Yes, Alpha."

"Oh, very good," he said, leaning forward so his lips touched her ear. "Despite all evidence to the contrary so far, it appears you might be a fast learner in some areas."

"I just need proper motivation, is all."

He hummed, and then his tongue was on her scent gland. She moaned at the hot, wet contact, her entire body going tight with desire. Like a direct line to her cunt. Instantly, she was wet and ready. Well, even wetter. She had taken care to stretch herself before dinner, thinking of Snape's cock. It would be a lot to take, but she really wanted to try.

"Tell me," he whispered between two very thorough licks, "what do you fantasize about when you masturbate?"

"I imagine you're... mmm, fucking me."

He dragged his teeth against her neck, pulling a shudder and a small keening sound from her.

"That answer lacks precision, Potter," he said. "Try again."

"I... imagine your thick cock plunging between my open thighs and filling me to the hilt."

"Is that all?"

"You're, ah... you're fucking me until I come all over your cock, screaming your name."

His tongue pressed hard against her gland. She grasped at his robes to pull him even closer, wondering why she hadn't done that sooner. While he kept licking her, she rubbed her hips against his, huffing a pleased sigh when she felt how much he wanted her. Not that she thought he would have changed his mind, but it was very gratifying to have such an effect on Snape, who always seemed in control no matter the circumstances. While he could hide a lot of things, lie about a lot of things, he couldn't pretend she didn't make him hard.

"I want your cock in me, Alpha," she said, with a breathy whine.

His reaction took her by surprise. He snarled something against her neck, probably 'Mine' from the sound of it, and then he was kissing her. Violently. She opened her mouth for him, unsure of how to react. It wasn't her first kiss, but the couple of kisses she had experienced before had been nothing like that.

Nothing like heat, and brutal need, and a skilled tongue licking hers.

Snape was fucking her mouth with his tongue. Owning it while he explored it, laying claim to every inch. She didn't mind the violence one bit. In fact, arousal burned all the brighter in her veins, and she let him know just how much she was enjoying that kiss, grabbing at him harder, rolling her hips against his.

"You'd let me have you against the wall, wouldn't you?" he growled against her mouth.

"Anywhere you want."

"Foolish, Potter."

"Like that doesn't turn you on?" she replied, licking her lips.

He kissed her again. She moaned, and then, surprising herself, grabbed his arse. He made a noise in her mouth, and his hands parted her robes, moved under her sweater, and found her breasts. Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. When his fingers brushed her nipples under her bra, pleasure flared between her legs, and she felt a rush of slick dampen her knickers.

She arched into his hands, ready for more. He kneaded her breasts, roughly, palming and stroking, while she flexed her fingers on his arse. It felt surprisingly firm considering she had never seen Snape do any athletic activity.

He pinched her nipples, his tongue tracing a wet path of heat down to her collarbone. He nipped at the sensitive skin there, and she whined, her head falling back, her hands fisting at the back of his coat, hips bucking in a desperate twitch.

"You smell so good," he groaned, pressing an open-mouth kiss under her clavicle, sucking her there.

"You too."

His scent was thick in her nostrils, so pleasing, so addictive. She wanted to keep smelling him forever. Maybe he'd let her have something of his, so she could carry it around, and... Oh, wait.

"Was that why you kept my scarf? Because it smelled like me?"

He huffed against her skin, trailed his lips back up until he reached her ear.

"Do you want me to tell you what I did with your scarf?" he murmured, the low timbre of his voice sending shivers down her spine.

She swallowed thickly, vague images coming to mind.

"Tell me."

Her voice came out so strangled by desire she didn't even recognize it.

"I kept it on me," he said, whispering in her ear. "I inhaled your scent whenever I wanted, all throughout the days. When you asked me if you could have it back in my classroom, I had it on me. Once you left, I smelled it, spent a full minute with my nose in that ridiculously ugly scarf."

Harrie wanted to defend Molly's knitting, and the Gryffindor's colors, because the scarf wasn't ugly, but she couldn't find words. Not with Snape so close, and telling her that.

"And one night, I brought it with me to bed."

His hands gripped her hips, and he pushed his pelvis against hers, so that the hardness of his erection was digging into her belly. She whimpered, scorched raw by blinding lust.

"I pleasured myself while I smelled your scarf, while I gorged myself on your sweet scent," he growled, his breath hot on her skin. "I came so hard I passed out."

That could happen? Shit, and now she was imagining it, Snape naked on his bed, one hand wrapped around his thick cock, the other pressing her scarf against his face, and his hips working until he reached an explosive release.

"Why did you... give it back?" she said, grasping at his back like she was drowning and he was her only succor.

"I was trying to do the right thing."

"If that means not touching me, please don't."

"Oh, I've given up on the right thing entirely," Snape said, purring the words out. "I'm damning myself, and all for you."

He ground the hard length of his cock into her, making her gasp.

"Yes, fuck, yes, Snape..."

She insinuated a hand between them, fighting with his buttons. He stopped her.

"I'm not going to fuck you against that wall, you self-destructive imp. Let's move this to my bed."

"Am I finally gonna see your bedroom?"

"You won't be seeing much of it, since you'll be face down on my bed while I fuck your tight little cunt."

She was very eager to proceed with that program.

He opened the door for her, letting her step in first. His bedroom was about what she had expected: all black and green, very tidy, with a bookshelf along one wall and a dark wooden desk in a corner. There was another door that must have led into the bathroom. And of course, there was a bed, upon which Snape shoved her.

She landed on all fours, bouncing a bit on the soft mattress, before Snape manhandled her to her back. She didn't struggle, which seemed to surprise him.

"How very obedient you are," he drawled, licking along her jaw as his hands slipped her robes off her shoulders.

"I'm not gonna piss you off when this is finally going the way I want."

While he was dragging down her skirt and her tights, she attacked the buttons of his frock coat. She had barely gotten one undone when he caught her hands, pinning them to the bed on either side of her head.

"No," he said, with a click of the tongue.

"You're planning to fuck me with your clothes on?"

"Not at all. I simply want to see you naked first."

"Fine," she relented.

He released her hands, and she helped him get her tights off. Next he removed her sweater and her undershirt, paused for a few seconds once she was only wearing a bra, and then got that off too. She'd been planning to mouth off the moment he'd see her breasts, but nothing came to mind, so she stayed there, on her back in his bed, breathing perhaps a little too fast. Snape smiled, like maybe he had been anticipating a smart comment, and let his gaze rake over her, very thoroughly.

"Lovely," he said. "As I expected."

"Well I'm glad you—oh, umpfff—"

That noise was because Snape's mouth had landed on one of her breasts, and his tongue was—she wasn't even sure what his tongue was even doing, but it felt awesome. With a shocked whimper, she grasped his hair, pushed his head down so he wouldn't stop.

He didn't stop. He did more things with his tongue, and then with his teeth, and Harrie shuddered, and mewled, and writhed beneath Snape like she was already having an orgasm. Truth be told, she was pretty close. And just from his mouth on her breasts, fuck.

There might also have been something arousing in the fact that she was almost entirely naked while he was still fully clothed. She felt vulnerable, while he looked the same.

"Stop," she huffed when Snape scraped his teeth against her nipple, eliciting another delicious bolt of heat between her legs.

He straightened, looking her in the eyes. He looked smug, but she had expected it. She was ready for him to be smug the entire time, and she didn't mind it, as long as she got what she wanted.

"I want—"

"My cock?" he suggested, with a wry smile.

"To see you naked."

"What a thing to say to your professor, Potter."

"Your mouth was all over my breasts ten seconds ago."

"Which I will say again, are truly lovely."

He began unbuttoning his frock coat. She watched, a bit mesmerized by the dance of his long fingers. He shrugged off his coat, then his undershirt, revealing a tantalizing amount of skin. She stared at it all. Lean muscles, nice shoulders, defined collarbones, and a smattering of dark hair across his chest, with a trail that headed down, thickening around his navel and then leading to...

"Trousers off," she said.

"My, but she's relentless. How long have you wanted this? Be honest."

She considered the question while he undid his trousers. Had there been anything before the licking started? Maybe a spark of interest, yes. Buried very deep under all the hate and the resentment.

"And you?" she retorted.

"Deflecting, Potter? Is the answer really that incriminating?"

She didn't say anything for a time, too busy staring at his thighs. And the bulge in his boxers. Yeah, mostly the bulge. He palmed himself through his clothes, smirking at her.

"Fifth year, I think," she murmured. "Those Occlumency lessons. Being alone with you while you were... so focused on me."

"I wasn't gentle with you."

There was a hint of remorse in his tone.

"That's, uh, precisely why I was interested," she admitted.

"Oh, really? What a fascinating information." He gave his clothed cock a squeeze, then his expression turned serious. "Speaking of Occlumency, how are your mental walls? I really wouldn't want the Dark Lord to get a peek of what we're about to do."

"They're fine. And he hasn't tried looking into my head for two years, anyway." She emitted a hum. "But if he did see us, what would happen?"

"As long as he doesn't know you're an Omega, I could pretend I initiated a physical relationship with you in order to manipulate you. I would tell him that I couldn't resist the idea of defiling the Chosen One right here at Hogwarts."

"Defiling, uh?" she said with a smile. "Is that what you're planning?"

"No," he said, giving her a stern look. "But that is how the Dark Lord would want to view it, and the only way I could present it to him to avoid being tortured into insanity."

She shifted a bit, parting her thighs wider. Snape was still slowly stroking himself over his clothes. The conversation had gotten strange, but she wanted to know more.

"What do you tell him about me?"

"We certainly don't discuss your sex life, if that's your worry. I feed him information that leads him to believe you're an untalented witch with no particular strengths, who has only managed to survive so far by sheer luck."

"Oh," she said, not knowing why she was expecting anything else. "Okay."

"Which isn't true, so don't look at me like that, Potter."

"You're only saying that so I'll let you fuck me," she quipped, her lips quirking.

"You'd let me fuck you anyway."

She looked at his bulge, a wave of heat rolling through her body at the memory of how thick his cock was.

"Yeah, I would." She met Snape's eyes. "But what if I didn't?"

His serious expression hardened into steel and he stopped stroking himself.

"You can leave at any time, or tell me no whenever you want." He cocked his head at her, his gaze piercing. "Are you afraid to tell me no, Potter?"

He asked the question softly, gently, which was so uncharacteristic of him it threw her for a second. Did he think he was taking advantage of her?

"No, that's not what I meant," she said. "Obviously I want this, and if I didn't I'd make it clear by not only telling you no but also cursing your balls off."

That got her a raised eyebrow. She had more to say, wasn't sure how to properly articulate it.

"What I meant was... it would be a little bit hot if you wouldn't let me leave," she said, watching his reaction carefully. "If I would pretend to leave, and you'd... force me to stay."

His face went on a whole journey, first surprise, then restrained lust, and finally stony control.

"No, Potter. This is something that would require a long conversation, and we are not doing that for your first time."

"Okay."

'Not for your first time' didn't mean 'not ever'. Maybe there would be a long conversation in the future.

"Now, do you want me to fuck you, or not?" Snape said.

"Yes. I want you to fuck me."

And to make it clear, she peeled off her knickers, then spread her legs in blatant invitation. He lowered his gaze to her cunt, his nostrils flaring, and dragged his erection out of his boxers. Quickly, he removed them, before pumping his cock a couple of times, lazily. She couldn't look away. All of that was going to be inside her.

"What about you?" she asked, nervous excitement fluttering in her chest. "When did you start wanting me?"

"The first time I smelled you, in Albus' office."

"What? But... you looked disgusted. Like, really repulsed."

"It's called acting. You could say I'm quite good at it."

More smugness. It was hot. Or maybe that was because he was stroking his cock while looking at her like that, with such fire in his eyes.

"It was your scent," he said. "Right away, I wanted more of it. I wanted to lick you. See if it would be even better on my tongue. Which it is, by the way."

She didn't know what to say to that, except maybe fuck me now. Snape's smugness climbed another degree. He leaned forward, slowly squeezing himself.

"Have you looked your fill?" he purred.

An embarrassing squeak left her mouth. She pressed her thighs together, feeling empty.

"Yes," she said, hearing how breathless she sounded. "Enough looking."

He removed her glasses, setting them down carefully on the bedside table, then he kissed her again, open-mouthed, impatient. He leaned over her, pressed their hips together, and Harrie moaned at the feel of his erection against her belly, hot and hard. She bucked up, grabbing his shoulders, cataloging every sensation, letting out her enthusiasm by being very vocal, which Snape seemed to enjoy.

"So, uh, you know what you're doing..." she said as he nipped along her jaw.

"No need to be jealous."

She wasn't jealous. Okay, maybe a little bit.

"I'm not," she said. "I just wanted to know... when was the last time?"

"A couple of years ago." He licked her near her ear, rolling his hips heavily against her, the hard length of his cock trapped between their bodies. "No other Omegas. Never. You're the only one."

Heat bit at her abdomen. Her breath hitched in her throat, some sort of strangled sound escaping her.

"Can you... can you say that again? I think it's doing things to me."

"Things? How very descriptive, Potter."

"Please," she wheezed, her hands flexing on his shoulders, nails digging in.

He nuzzled her scent gland, and oh, fuck, that did things to her too.

"No other Omegas," he murmured. "Just you."

Yes. Yes, my Alpha.

It was a surge of possessiveness laced with need, so strong it left her lightheaded, like alcohol injected straight into her veins.

"Alpha," she whimpered, which meant a lot of things, but at this moment, mostly 'get your cock inside me'.

Snape shifted to rub his erect shaft against her slit, the friction making her gasp.

"Do we need, ah... uh, contraception?" she remembered to ask.

"Omegas are only fertile during their heat."

"But..."

Ah, fuck, it was so hard to think. She made an effort, grinding back against Snape at the same time.

"Hermione said Omegas are... very fertile."

There, that made sense. And a complete sentence, too. Good job, Harrie.

"During their heat," Snape said, with a very mean roll of his hips that felt incredibly good. "Guaranteed pregnancy, then. But you're not in heat."

"...you should have told me."

"Why?"

"Because then I would have fingered myself with your cum, sir."

A look of absolute shock came over his face, swiftly followed by scorching lust. He grabbed her, flipped her onto her stomach. Her breath rushed out of her lungs in a yelp. Then she spread her legs, and mewled invitingly. It felt like her blood was on fire, and there was a terrible ache between her legs that would only be satisfied by Snape's cock. She was sure it would fit. It had to fit, because if it didn't, she'd die from unfulfilled want.

"What a filthy little girl you are," he drawled.

He leaned over her, putting a lot of his weight on her. The hot length of his cock prodded between her legs. A pulse of electricity zipped up her spine.

"Tell me again what you want."

He was teasing her entrance with the head of his cock, like he aimed to drive her mad. It was working.

"I want your cock," she whimpered, every muscle in her body vibrating from pure need. "Please, I want, I need—"

He pushed inside her, breaching her, startling a moan from her, and then he pushed, and pushed, and and he didn't stop until he was completely sheathed in her. She exhaled sharply, the incredible feeling of being filled leaving her speechless. There were no thoughts in her head either, her mind caught up in sensations, the throbbing heat of Snape inside her, his hard chest at her back, his breath near her ear, the solid weight of him, and how it all felt so—so right, so—

She whined, a wordless thin cry bursting from her lips. Snape had seized her hips in a steel grip, had given one primal thrust, and now he was doing it again, just as hard, and she whined for a second time, then a third.

It didn't hurt, quite the opposite.

Every thrust brought an excruciating amount of pleasure, fire licking her nerves, a roiling ball of pressure already building in her core. His cock felt so big inside her, a thick girth parting her walls and plunging so deep. It was very different from any fingers, and it was stimulating every inch of her pulsing channel, a relentless friction that brought tears to her eyes and touched nerves she hadn't been aware of until now.

Snape wasn't gentle at all. He was vicious, the way he always was with her, fucking her like he hated her, like each thrust was revenge for all the frustration she had ever made him feel, for the years she had spent hating him and insulting him. This was what she had imagined, but she was responding to it even more enthusiastically than she expected.

So enthusiastically.

Her cunt was contracting in strong clenches, gripping Snape's cock, and she could feel herself dripping fluid, even more than when she had masturbated. A ridiculous amount of slick, which was probably the only reason she could take his cock that violently without feeling any pain. She whimpered every time he went deep, acute pleasure storming her every cell.

She remembered talks with the other girls in the Gryffindor dormitories, late at night. Whispers, and giggles, and "don't expect anything special the first time", "you'll have to tell him where your clit is", "no, telling isn't enough, you have to show them or they'll rub your labia", and sighs about clueless boys.

Lie, all lies. Snape was paying no attention to her clit at all, and she was already so close to coming.

She cried out as he slammed inside her particularly brutally, with a lewd slap of flesh.

"I told you there'd be no mercy," he growled, teeth nipping her ear.

"I don't want mercy," she gasped.

She bucked up under him, grinding back, goading him.

"I want—more."

He made a deep growling sound that she felt rumble through his chest, then he gripped the headboard with one hand, knuckles white from the strain, and pushed her head into the pillow with his other hand. She keened, fighting back, trying to lift her head. She couldn't. It was exhilarating, being held down, having no choice but to take it. Take his cock, take everything he wanted to do to her, all control surrendered.

Why did I ever think I wasn't a submissive?

There was no fucking question she wanted to be dominated. And no fucking question either that Snape loved dominating her.

He was groaning now, huffing out hoarse noises as he drove into her with long, punishing strokes, giving her the entire length of his cock. Every thrust came with jolting force, and there were creaking wooden sounds that must have been his bed, suffering from the strength of their fucking.

"More," she wheezed, the word muffled into the pillow.

The hand on her head seized a fistful of her hair and yanked. She gasped as her head was abruptly forced back.

"What did you say?" Snape asked, every word a growl.

"I said—ah... fuck me harder—sir."

He pushed her head back into the pillow, placed his other hand on her back, and then braced himself against her and leveraged his hips into brutally savage strokes. A stream of whines immediately flowed from her lips, sounding like nothing but muffled mewls, buried into the pillow. Snape had all his weight on her, crushing her into the bed, and she could barely breathe under the onslaught, but it didn't matter.

She was so close.

So—fucking—close—

One more slam of Snape's thick cock inside her, and she was there.

She made a pitiful sound, her lungs spasming, the orgasm burning, searing her nerves into all-consuming heat. Oh God oh yes oh God, more pleasure than she had ever experienced, all right there in her trembling body, radiating to every extremity, lasting, lasting, lasting.

Snape didn't stop.

He kept up his harsh pace, fucking her through the clenches of her cunt, fucking her through the aftershocks too, fucking her like he planned to never stop. She squirmed and gasped, until she reached sensory overload and what felt like a second orgasm, or maybe simply a natural continuation of that first one. She wasn't sure and it didn't matter anyway, because it was all pleasurepleasurepleasure and her body was screaming, or possibly she was screaming, and then she sobbed in ecstasy and reached some other place.

A warm place, a peaceful place, where she floated, the world light and distant.

She stayed there a while, or maybe only a handful of seconds, it was hard to tell. Her brain wasn't working. Not that she considered it a problem. Her brain didn't need to work. Everything was very all right.

She blinked, and the world was back, her body heavy and supremely limp. She was still so warm, and so happy, drifting in a sort of blissful daze. Mmmh. The only weird thing was that she felt wetness over her arse and back. That reminded her of Snape coming on her, spending himself all over her arse, and through great effort, she concluded that must have happened again.

Yes, that was it.

She made an interrogative sound, wondering why he hadn't come in her, unable to even string two words together, much less an actual sentence.

"I thought it best not to knot you for your first time," he said from somewhere behind her.

She contemplated his answer for a while.

"M'kay," she eventually muttered, with only a vague idea of what he was talking about.

Then she was asleep.

*

There was a hand on her shoulder, and that was annoying. It was shaking her, which was definitely very annoying. So she made an annoyed sound meant to communicate her displeasure, and burrowed further into the warm blankets.

The hand shook her again.

"Potter," a voice said.

It was a really recognizable voice, which instantly lead her to wonder what the hell Snape was doing in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory.

"Go away," she told him.

A reasonable answer.

"Wake up, Potter. It's nearly seven o'clock."

She digested that information. That was fine. Plenty of time.

"Five more minutes," she groaned.

"No," Snape said, and then the blanket was yanked off her, and cold air assaulted her.

"Hey!" she protested, sitting up in a rage. "Give me back my—"

She stopped short, realizing that this wasn't, in fact, her blanket. Or even her bed. This was Snape's bed, and then the reason why she was there came back to her, along with everything else.

"Ah," she said, looking up at Snape.

He was dressed in his usual black robes, standing at the edge of the bed. She, on the other hand, was naked.

"I'm naked," she said.

"I see your mind is more scintillating than ever in the morning," Snape said. "Yes, Potter, you're naked because we had sex. No doubt you regret it, and we won't speak of this again. Now kindly remove yourself from my bed and go back to your dormitory."

She blinked.

"I don't regret it."

He tensed, his mouth thinning in a line.

"I don't," she repeated. "It was really great sex. The most awesome sex ever. Why would I regret it?"

"I was too rough," he said, looking uncomfortable.

"No. I liked how rough you were. I... I liked it all." She licked her lips, weighing her next words. "I'd like to have sex with you again."

She heard him inhale. His eyes wandered over her naked body.

"I'll take it into consideration," he said. "Now get dressed and leave before anyone notices you're not in your bed."

She grimaced at the thought, got up, noting she was clean. Snape must have cast a cleaning charm on her, presumably after she fell asleep.

She located her clothes on a nearby chair. They were folded neatly, which made her smile as she pictured Snape doing it. He clearly hadn't fallen asleep right after his orgasm, and had done some tidying. There was also a bottle on top of her clothing. She picked it up, frowning. She had completely forgotten about that.

"Is it okay to take it one day late?"

"You'll take another one tomorrow for safety," Snape answered. "I'm sorry, I should have reminded you. I was... distracted."

"I should have remembered."

She drank the potion, vowing not to get distracted by Snape's dick again.

"I'm sorry, too," she said as she put on her clothes. "I didn't mean to sleep in your bed. I know that wasn't what we agreed to."

"If I had truly objected to it, I would have woken you up."

He wasn't looking at her, appeared to be fiddling with the blanket.

"Why didn't you?" she asked.

"You needed your sleep."

Sure, that was true. Which made her think...

"I didn't wake up at all during the night," she said, as much for herself as for Snape.

"Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that you were so exhausted by your orgasms you feel asleep instantly," he said, in a dry tone.

"Mmm, yes, the orgasms. Thanks for that, by the way. Very nice orgasms."

He made a sound that might have been a chuckle. A very muffled chuckle.

"Was it, uh... good for you?" she said.

That seemed polite to ask. Maybe he didn't want to do it again because it had been bad.

He turned to her, eyebrows raised in a kind of perplexed frown.

"Are you daft, Potter?"

"I feel that's a trick question."

"Are you really asking me if I enjoyed last night?"

"Um, yes," she said, putting her robes on and trying to act like his answer didn't matter.

"Are you asking if I enjoyed pounding you into the bed? Enjoyed feeling your little cunt spasm around my cock when you came? Enjoyed your moans and your whimpers, your body trembling beneath mine, how wet and tight you were?"

He had gotten closer with each question, and now he was in her personal space, which made her heart race and strategic parts of her body tighten.

"Yes," he said, bending down to whisper the word in her ear, causing a delightful little shiver to race up her spine. "I did."

He stepped back, gave her a sly smile. She focused on breathing normally.

"Is sex always like that between Alphas and Omegas?" she said.

"When they're compatible, yes."

"Compatible? What does that mean?"

He shrugged, turning away.

"The same as in any relationship. Not any Omega will get along with every Alpha, as should be obvious. We remain people, regardless of our biological urges."

"So we're compatible."

"Sexually compatible," he said, emphasizing the first word. "Don't mistake it for anything else."

There was a short silence as Harrie thought about that.

"Can I come back tonight?"

He made his bed meticulously before answering her.

"We are not going to do this every night."

"Why not?"

"It's called delayed gratification, Potter."

She pouted.

"I hate delayed gratification."

"You and every other Gryffindor. Go, now."

"Yes, Alpha," she said, and deeply enjoyed the way his jaw tensed at that.

"Potter," he called as she was at the door. "Do some research for me, would you?"

"On what?"

"Knotting."

She blushed, both from the word and the intense way he has looking at her.

"You want to... knot me?"

"If you'll allow me. Research the subject first. I want your decision to be an informed one."

"Okay. Research. Sure."

Then she grinned.

"More homework, Professor? You're being so hard on me."

"That was such a bad pun I ought to take points from Gryffindor," he retorted coldly.

"But you won't. The magic of the castle logs the reason for the points removal, but also the time and place. Seven o'clock, points removed from Harrie Potter in your bedroom? We might as well make an official announcement that we're sleeping together."

"Hardly anyone ever looks at the logs. Go now, Potter, before I lose my patience with you."

The irritated edge in his voice made her want to irritate him some more.

"And what would you do? Shout me out of your bedroom?"

"No, I would pin you down to my bed and make you take my cock again. Which would be really unfortunate as I just made the bed. Now, go."

"I'm going." She smiled at him, a brief flash of her teeth, challenging. "See you in an hour in Potions class, sir."

"Merlin give me strength," she heard him mutter before she closed the door.

Chapter Text

"...which is not the optimal method. So I don't want to see you cut your roots into tiny pieces, is that understood? Crush them with the flat of your blade, and be careful with the juices."

Harrie stood up along with the rest of the class to start working on her roots. She followed Snape's instructions, which echoed the words she had read a year ago in the Half-Blood Prince Potions' manual. Good advice, which she remembered. Funny that Snape was agreeing with the Prince.

Halfway through her four roots, Harrie shifted on her feet, wincing. She was sore. She was so sore, and she had cramps, too, in places that seemed really improbable. She was used to getting cramps after a hard Quidditch workout, but apparently sex cramps were different. She shifted again, equally annoyed and puzzled. They hadn't even done any weird positions, why did she have so many cramps?

The worst was between her legs. There was a dull ache every time she moved, and some pinching. They didn't talk about that in his erotic novels. The consequences of getting deflowered by a massive cock. She snickered silently at the thought. This had been the best first time she could imagine, and she wouldn't even be able to talk about it. She would have to pretend she was still a virgin the next time there would be girl talk in the dormitories.

Which was fine. It would be their secret, her and Snape. He was good at keeping secrets, and she was reasonably sure she wouldn't give herself away, not unless someone asked her directly, "hey, are you sleeping with Snape?", which wouldn't happen. Nobody would ever imagine they'd sleep together. It was absurd.

"Potter, stop daydreaming and do some actual work, for once!"

Completely absurd.

"Yes, sir," she said, sending him a glare for good measure.

She crushed the rest of her roots, added the juice to her potion, stirred clockwise for two minutes. Her cauldron didn't explode, so she hadn't completely fucked it up.

God, she was so sore. Could the class end already so she could go lie down for a bit? Some respite before the two hours of Herbology that were next and promised to be an ordeal. Was there a spell to soothe cramping? If there was one, Hermione would have known it, but then she'd ask her why she was sore, and there was no good answer.

Snape was going from cauldron to cauldron, judging the students' efforts.

"Did you brew this blind, Longbottom? Shameful."

"Mister Malfoy, excellent work as always."

He only gave a nod to Hermione, who so far as Harrie could see had brewed an even better potion than Malfoy. Then he stopped before Harrie's cauldron.

"Acceptable, Potter," he said after ladling her potion. "You didn't achieve the precise consistency required, but you got the color right."

"Thank you, sir, but if anyone deserves praise it's Hermione," she replied, fairly insolently.

"If you heard praise, your critical thinking skills are severely lacking. A fact everyone in this room was already aware of."

He gave her a tiny smirk with that, which certainly wouldn't have been out of place days or even weeks before, but which now elicited a far different reaction from her. Why the hell was a smug Snape hot? Unfair.

"Everyone is also aware that Hermione brewed the best potion. But you won't acknowledge it because she's not in Slytherin."

Kind of throwing herself into the lion's den, but that would have been her reaction weeks before too, and she couldn't deviate from her standard behavior. She knew Snape understood.

"You've just earned yourself detention, Potter," he said. "I hope it was worth it."

"Absolutely, sir."

She smiled defiantly at him. He glared back, then barked at everyone to start cleaning up their desks and cauldrons. Harrie sat down to do her cleaning, thought of the bath she was gonna take tonight. Unless her detention was also tonight? Snape hadn't specified. She really hoped not, she needed a hot bath so much.

"Potter, stay a moment," he said as students were filing out of the classroom.

She remained seated. This position was better for the cramps, but not for the soreness in her sex. She shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable.

Snape approached, set a small vial on her desk.

"For the cramps, and the rest. Take it now, it will last until tomorrow."

She gave him a grateful look, followed by a frown.

"Thanks, but you could have given me that earlier."

"I could have. I wanted you aware of the consequences of your choices."

"A little more than my choices," she said, with a very sly look at his groin.

He glowered at her, which clearly meant not in public you absolute moronic girl. She took the potion, humming at the pleasant taste.

"What about my detention?"

"Tomorrow night," he said.

"All right. See you later, Professor."

She walked out, pleased to note that her cramps and the soreness were already lessened.

"What did Snape want?" Ron asked on the way to Herbology class.

"He gave me the details of my detention, and gloated a little. You know, the usual."

I definitely didn't glance at his crotch while thinking of his big cock. Nope.

"You didn't have to defend me, Harrie," Hermione said.

"She was right, though," Ron said. "Your potion was better than Malfoy's."

"Everyone could see it. It's not worth saying when the result is a detention."

Harrie shrugged.

"I'll endure another detention with Snape. Honestly I'm used to it at this point."

"He'll have you scrub his dirty cauldrons, ugh," Ron said with a shiver.

Harrie rather thought he would have her do something else. (Do him. She was gonna do him.)

After Herbology and a quick lunch, she went to the library to do research. She found the book about Alphas and Omegas, sat down in an isolated corner, and looked at the Sexual Congress chapter. Within seconds, she was blushing. There were diagrams, really explicit ones, and just as explicit descriptions.

She discovered Snape had taken her in the traditional claiming position, and hadn't even told her, that bastard. Next time she'd insist on being on her back. That way she could kiss him while they were doing it, which sounded particularly appealing. Much better than getting pounded face down like she was, well, a bitch.

Now, knotting, let's see, knotting... Oh, there was a whole section on knotting. And three diagrams.

Harrie read everything, slowly. Went even redder. She processed the words and the sentences, things like 'large bulge' and 'lodged inside the Omega's hole' and 'the partners can be stuck for hours'.

Hours?

God.

...yeah, she wanted it.

*

That night, she read Taken by the Alpha king. The sex scenes were just as bad as in the other book, but the plot was entertaining, with some twists she didn't see coming. She still had trouble wrapping her head around the fact that it was Snape writing all that. It felt like a whole new side of him she never could have imagined. Was that why he hadn't even bothered changing the way he wrote his S, because it was so ridiculous nobody would have made the connection?

No one except her.

Luna was a fan, McGonagall read them too... This was another secret she would have to keep. This one was even easier. There was no danger of accidentally letting it slip that Snape wrote erotic novels in his spare time.

Putting the book down, she took her second dose of heat-suppressant, then the sleeping draught. Her mouth tingled at the combined taste of both potions. Drawing the blanket over her body, she regretted she didn't have anything of Snape so she could fall asleep with his scent. Maybe they could trade. She'd give him her scarf again, and he would let her have his cloak or something.

She slept through the night without waking once, woke up energetic and happy.

"Did you suddenly become a morning person?" Hermione asked as Harrie made her bed, humming cheerfully.

"I'm taking sleeping draughts now, so I sleep better." She stretched. "Much better."

"Oh, you've changed your mind about that?"

"Yes," Harrie said without volunteering more information.

The quality of her sleep had taken a sharp dive at the end of her fifth year, after the confrontation with Voldemort at the Ministry. Hermione had suggested to her the use of sleeping draughts to combat her nightmares, but Harrie had refused. The potions were brewed by Snape, and she didn't want to have anything to do with him. So she had endured nightmares and frequent awakenings, stubbornly, and it had become usual.

She now realized she had been stupid. So what if Snape brewed the potions? He wasn't that bad. Mean, and unfair, yes, but he was competent. She could trust him when it came to potions. And also, as it turned out, when it came to her orgasms.

Their night of sex had been on her mind a lot during the previous day. She wanted more, and she knew Snape did, too. Delayed gratification, what a load of shit. She wanted him now. Why didn't they have morning sex? She should have teased him more instead of leaving.

She didn't have Potions today, so she only saw him in the Great Hall at meal times. She allowed herself quick glances, nothing more than what she would have given him had they not had mindblowing sex. Snape showed identical disinterest. She didn't lick her spoon this time. She would drive him mad in private. The results were bound to be more interesting than a scathing glare.

Before her detention, she found Luna near the entrance hall.

"The plot was fun in this one," she told her, handing her the book. "Is it your favorite?"

"That one? No." She reached into the large pocket of her robes, pulled out a dog-eared book that had seen a lot of use, and presented it to Harrie. "My all-time favorite. Syndercombe's first book, and an original edition, too. Priceless."

Harrie's eyes fell on the title. She stifled a gasp.

Courted by the Half-Blood Prince, said the bold, silver letters. The book cover depicted a young woman fainting in the arms of a dark figure clad in black robes.

"The Half-Blood Prince," Harrie said, aiming for a neutral tone.

"He's a very well-written character. An anti-hero, of course, but you can't help liking him. It's too bad he dies at the end. I've been waiting for a sequel for years, but I don't think Syndercombe will ever write one."

"He dies at the end?"

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to spoil the plot for you! But yes, it's all very tragic. He doesn't even get a last conversation with his lover. She finds him with his throat cut, and he expires in her arms."

Luna sighed dreamily.

"You should read it, too," she said, offering the book to Harrie. "If you're in the mood for a darker tale."

"I'll give it a try," Harrie said. She flipped through the book, half-expecting to see notes about potion-making and brand new spells.

"This one isn't autographed," Luna said. "I tried to get a personalized autograph, but the publishing house said the author was a very private person and didn't do this sort of things. We don't even know what he looks like."

"I could get you an autograph."

"How?" Luna said, pulling a surprised face, which wasn't one she made often.

"I mean, I'm Harrie Potter. If I write to him asking for a personalized autograph, for a friend, because I'm such a fan... is he really going to say no?"

Luna's blue eyes lit up, and she nodded.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Harrie! I promise I'll have your back when the Nargles apocalypse comes."

"No idea what that is, but thanks."

"Oh, that's the real threat to the wizarding world. The Nargles, not that noseless lunatic of a dark wizard." She smiled, then her expression froze and she looked uncertain. "That was insensitive, wasn't it?"

"No, you're right. He is a noseless lunatic. I'll tell him next time I see him."

That made her laugh.

Harrie took the book with her, heading to her detention. She had also brought her cloak of invisibility, in case she needed to sneak out in the morning again. She hoped she would.

"You're the Half-Blood Prince," she said as soon as she closed the door behind her.

Snape lifted his head from the essays he was grading, his lips drawing into a smirk.

"I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion last year."

"What?"

"You had my potions manual for a whole year," he said, setting his quill aside. "You improved tremendously in Potions as a result, but you never realized why, did you?"

"Because of all the annotations next to the instructions."

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"I wrote the exact same instructions with the added annotations on the board, every time, like every year. But this time, you had the Prince's book, and since the instructions came from a source other than myself, you trusted them."

Could it be true? Had she been that blind, that stupid? Just like with the sleeping draughts...

"Why did you steal it back?" she said.

"It was always mine, so there was no stealing involved. When it became evident you would never understand, yes, I took it back." He cocked his head. "I suppose Miss Lovegood showed you more of my work?"

She pulled out the book.

"It's her favorite one."

"Not my best," he said, pursing his lips. "I put too much of myself in this one."

He dies at the end.

She didn't know how to address what that made her feel.

"I haven't read it yet," she said. "Luna is hoping for a sequel."

"How could there be a sequel? The Prince dies."

"Maybe he isn't really dead. Maybe he's only pretending so his enemies don't find out, and then he misses his lover and has to reunite with her."

Snape directed his usual cutting smile at her.

"You're a hopeless romantic, Potter. This isn't how real life works."

"Yes, because clearly your books are a perfect mirror of real life," she said with an eye-roll. "Anyway, I need you to write a personalized autograph for Luna."

She slid the book across his desk, open at the first blank page.

"And why would I do that?" he replied.

"She's your biggest fan. Don't worry, she doesn't care about the sex scenes. She reads the books solely for their plot."

"I'm still not hearing a valid argument."

Ah, he was playing hard to get. Harrie smiled, sending him a flirty look before rounding the desk and approaching him slowly.

"I told her I could convince Syndercombe to give her an autograph, since I'm Harrie Potter. I told her he... wouldn't be able to resist me."

"Using your fame to get ahead in life again?" Snape shot back with a mean bite.

"Well, in that particular case, I was thinking more of using my talented mouth."

He stared at said mouth. She licked her lips.

"You have some nerve calling it talented when I have seen no such proof," he said.

"Oh, you want proof? What should I do, Professor?" She leaned toward him. "Tell me, where would you like my mouth?"

He gripped her jaw, slipped his thumb between her lips. Past the brief surprise at the authoritative gesture, she relaxed, opened her mouth further, and flicked her tongue against his digit. His eyes filled up with heat, the intensity of his gaze making her breath stutter.

"I'm not sure I can trust you not to bite," he said, far too casually considering the way he was looking at her.

He pressed his thumb down on her tongue, rubbing slowly, as if ascertaining the adequacy of her mouth. Her body thrummed with lust, liquid arousal dripping into her knickers. She moaned softly, the sound coming out muffled.

"Are you going to be a good girl for your Alpha?"

Fuck, that voice. That raspy, hoarse drawl, lighting up the most primitive part of her brain. She would have done anything he demanded of her in that voice.

"Are you?" he repeated, tone edged with impatience now.

She emitted another moan, pitched lower, then she sucked on his thumb, closing her lips around the digit, fluttering her tongue.

"Get on your knees, then."

She dropped to her knees obediently. He didn't make it easier for her, and she had to crawl under the desk to properly situate herself between his legs. There, she slid her palms up his thighs, looking up at him. He stared down at her with fierce intent, and a touch of challenge.

"Have you ever sucked cock before, Potter?"

Her cunt throbbed at the crudeness of the question, and at the way he had asked it, like they were in class and he was testing her knowledge.

"No, sir."

"Shall I expect sloppy enthusiasm, or will you make an effort to learn properly?"

"Is sloppy enthusiasm a bad thing when it comes to cock-sucking, sir?" she said, wetting her lips in obvious teasing.

"It is not my preference."

She palmed him through his clothes, humming.

"What's your preference?"

"Slow, studious and thorough work."

"In that case, I'll do my best to satisfy you."

He smirked.

"That would be a first from you. Go on. I'll tell you what you're doing wrong."

There was a hint of condescension in his voice that made her bristle. It also made her want to become the best at sucking cock, so she could undo him through her mouth alone. Bring him to his knees, have him scream her name. Leave him a gasping mess.

And while she had never actually done anything to a cock with her mouth, she wasn't totally ignorant of how to got about it. There had been plenty of discussion on the subject late at night in the girls' dormitory.

"Please, do tell me, Professor. You'll find me a most diligent student."

He spread his legs a bit wider. She unbuttoned his trousers, freed his erection. Her pulse picked up, desire striking like a bolt of thunder between her own legs. He was so thick and heavy in her hand. Had she really taken all that inside her? She wanted to watch, next time. Watch her cunt take him, and probably come from the sight alone.

A bead of precum shone at the tip of his hard length. She swiped her tongue there, immediately frowned at the taste. Ugh, not pleasant at all. When she looked up, Snape had a wry little smile on his lips, like he was waiting for her to protest, or back down. She smiled back, wrapped a hand around the base of him, and licked him again, slower, maintaining eye contact. His lips thinned, his features growing tight as his cock twitched under her tongue.

"Am I doing something wrong?" she said, pumping him once, firmly.

"Not yet."

Ah, such a Snape answer. She gave him a quick, mischievous lick.

"I guess I'll keep going..."

She licked her way down, then back up, as meticulously as she could. She had reached the tip again and was tracing lazy swirls of her tongue around it when something unexpected happened.

There was a knock at the door.

They shared a panicked look, sudden tension cutting into the heated moment like a cold knife.

"I'm busy!" Snape said, sounding rather annoyed.

"Oh, this won't take long, Severus," came McGonagall's voice.

Then the door opened. Harrie silently Accio'd her cloak, wrapped herself in it, and thanked her years of practice for being able to completely envelop herself in less than a second. She stood still, hidden under the desk. Snape's lap wasn't visible from the door, the bulk of his desk concealing his current state, so unless McGonagall decided to approach really, really close, she couldn't see anything.

Snape leaned forward slightly. Harrie imagined him glaring at McGonagall.

"Can't this wait, Minerva? I'm in the middle of something important."

He said it like the something in question was vexing him deeply, as if he needed all of his concentration to deal with it and couldn't stand to be interrupted.

"Of course, of course, I'll take just a minute of your time..." McGonagall replied.

"What is it?" Snape said.

His cock was still right there, under Harrie's nose, and still very erect. Oh, no. This was not a good idea. She really shouldn't.

Don't do it, Harrie. Don't, don't.

"If you remember, Severus, I tried to have a conversation this morning at breakfast, but you were having none of it."

She did it. She leaned forward, and licked one languid swipe up Snape's cock. His thighs tensed, but he made no sound. She trusted him, didn't she? Trusted him to be excellent at hiding what he was truly feeling. She licked him again, trailing her tongue wetly up his impressive length.

"I do remember. Please, do go on."

Not a hint of anything in his voice either. Mmm, what perfect control. She kind of wanted to shatter it.

"It's about Harrie."

Snape made a small, noncommittal sound. She squeezed the base of his shaft, slowly, and took the tip of him into her mouth. He shuddered, one contained tremor.

"I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet," McGonagall continued. "How is she sleeping, do you know? Has she confided in you?"

"She's sleeping very well now that the idiot girl has accepted that she had a problem and is taking the potion to fix said problem."

Hmm, some frustration there. Wherever could that come from, Harrie wondered while she bobbed her head up and down on Snape's cock.

"Good, good," McGonagall said. "I didn't want to say anything in front of her, but I worry about her, Severus. Has your relationship improved at all? She needs someone who can support her."

"She's a capable girl, very, ah... talented."

Yes, I am.

She demonstrated her talent some more, fluttering her tongue on his shaft. She was starting to drool too much, but she wasn't sure how to deal with that. Slurping in any way would make too much noise.

"But I'm not sure what improvements you were expecting, Minerva. She remains an infuriating student, and I'm not her Alpha."

Not my Alpha? What the fuck, I'll show you if you're not my Alpha...

Tilting her head, she took more of his cock into her mouth, sliding him across her tongue. More, and more, and at the exact moment she realized it was too much and choked on his cock, Snape coughed, loudly. Drawing back, she gasped silently, praising his excellent timing.

"No, of course not," McGonagall said. "Thank you, Severus. I won't disturb you any longer. Good night."

"Good night, Minerva," Snape replied.

Harrie wiped away the drool clinging to her chin, glowering at Snape's cock. How did blowjobs work with such a big dick? Was she supposed to choke on it?

There was the sound of the door closing. Then Snape quickly uttered a couple of privacy spells, presumably locking the door as well. As soon as that was done, he scraped his chair back, threw the cloak off Harrie, and gripped a handful of her hair.

"What is wrong with you?" he growled. "Trying to deepthroat me with Minerva in the room? Did you want us to get caught?"

"You said you weren't my Alpha," she said, aware of how poor an excuse that was. "And why didn't you lock the fucking door, anyway?"

"I wasn't planning on receiving any blowjobs!"

"That makes you a pretty bad planner, since you knew I'd be there tonight."

His eyes narrowed like she had insulted him, but it was a smug smile that appeared on his lips. He hauled her into his lap, both his hands cupping her arse as soon as she was straddling him.

"This was foolishly dangerous, Potter. If she had noticed you, I would have been forced to Obliviate her."

"What?" Harrie squeaked.

The shock of that sentence was diluted by what Snape's hands were doing, urgently tugging her tights and underwear down.

"I'm useless to the Dark Lord if I'm not at Hogwarts," he said as he palmed her bare cunt, drawing a shuddering whine from her. "And you're my Omega. You need me, so I'm not going anywhere."

He plunged two fingers inside her, hummed at her reaction, her little cry of pleasure and the twitch of her hips.

"You're so wet already, and from half a blowjob. What am I going to do with you? Any ideas?"

"Yeah, one," she said, eyeing his erect cock.

"I'm not sure you deserve my cock. You were a very bad girl just then."

He crooked his fingers inside her, applying pressure to her most sensitive spot. She became even wetter, a rush of heat traveling down her clenching cunt.

"What if... I ask nicely?" she panted, dizzy from the sharp ache of lust echoing through her entire body.

"Apologize first."

Fuck. Why was it all so arousing? His fingers spearing her cunt, his black eyes boring into hers, the stern tone of his voice, it all combined to make her absolutely drenched, her heartbeat alive beneath every inch of her skin, all of her practically vibrating from desire.

"I'm sorry I wanted to suck your cock so much," she said, leaning down to brush her lips against Snape's. "I'm sorry you're so irresistible."

"That will do. Now ask me for my cock. Nicely."

She licked at his mouth, grinding herself down on his fingers.

"Please, Alpha, I want your cock. I want to feel it stretch me."

"Good girl," Snape purred, which got an embarrassing moan out of her.

Then she let out another moan, drawn-out and breathy, as he shifted and pressed his cock inside her. He breached her easily, guided her hips down, controlling the slow slide of him in her. In such a different position from last time, his hard shaft stimulated new areas, leading Harrie to squirm in surprise.

"Shh," Snape said, hands flexing on her hips. "Take it."

He forced her the rest of the way down, thrusting up at the same time.

"Oh, God," she whined once she had indeed taken it, and he was entirely seated in her cunt.

He felt enormous, his thickness taking up all the place inside her, leaving her so full she could have come from the pressure alone.

"Poor Potter. I've fucked you once and you're already addicted to my cock."

"Yeah, well, you're addicted to my cunt."

His eyes darkened, but he didn't deny it. Instead he started to move, nudging her into a slow rocking motion that had his cock rubbing deliciously against her inner walls. She rolled her hips, matching his pace. She wasn't sure what to do with her hands, since they weren't exactly clean. Snape noticed her hesitation.

"You can touch yourself," he suggested, smirking at her.

"If I do that, I'm gonna come."

"So come. You're capable of having multiple orgasms. I'll gladly prove it to you."

Oh. But...

"What about you?"

"What about me? Do you really think I have such poor self-control I'd blow my load at the first contracting flutters of your cunt?"

"All right," she said, slipping a hand between her legs to stroke her clit.

At the first touch of her fingers on the puffy, engorged little nub, a brilliant burst of pleasure skewered her core. Cursing softly, she nearly came, would have come if Snape had been thrusting in instead of withdrawing at the moment. It happened at the next drive of his cock in her as she pressed down on her clit with two fingers, the dual stimulation too perfect to resist. Her orgasm rolled through her in waves, blissful spasms wracking her body as she writhed in Snape's lap.

She looked at him the whole time. Despite his boast about his self-control, his jaw tightened, a muscle ticking there, and his hands held her bruisingly hard. When she slumped forward with a small whine, he released a shaky breath, began moving in her again—it was only then that she noticed he had stopped.

She clung to him, swimming in a fog of pleasant heat.

"Are you going to knot me?" she said, biting down on her lips at the thought.

"Not in this position."

Disappointment shot through her, even if she knew he was probably right to refuse.

"But I want you to."

"And I will, but not now. Have some patience."

"Yes, sir," she murmured against his neck, smiling at the effect that had on him, at the sudden groan he let out.

His hands like steel on her hips, he moved her pliant body up and down his cock, using her in his own chase for pleasure. She liked that idea very much, him taking what he wanted from her body while she didn't move a muscle. He was grunting every time he hilted deep, fascinating sounds that Harrie found herself enjoying immensely.

As his grunts got more guttural, harsher, she became aware of something hard and heavy slapping against her cunt on each thrust. She looked down, squinting, and she saw it. His knot. It was a bulge at the base of his cock, big and red. Sort of bloated, really. There was no way that would fit. It didn't seem physically possible. And yet, the very thought of being that stretched had her breathing shallowly, lust sizzling in her veins.

Snape's rhythm faltered. He suddenly pulled out, his hand working frantically on his cock. She watched him spill between them, in hot spurts that stained them both. He sagged in the chair with a sigh, his hand still curled around his cock. Curiosity getting the better of her, she touched him, tracing a finger along his knot. Snape jerked under her.

"Careful," he growled.

"Sensitive?" she said, brushing a gentle finger around the swollen flesh. It was softening, along with his cock.

"Obviously."

"Is it always so big?"

"It will fit," he said in a low, rough voice, with a hint of mirth at the corners of his lips.

Answering lust coiled in her belly, bright and heady.

"Tonight?"

"No."

He retrieved his wand, cleaned them both.

"Your detention is at an end. You should go."

She had completely forgotten this was supposed to be a detention. With a frown, she shifted closer to Snape, resting her chin on his shoulder. Inhaling his scent, she closed her eyes.

"Can I stay for the night?"

He made a soft sound that was neither a yes or a no, splayed a hand at her lower back, somewhat hesitantly.

"Or could you give me something that smells like you?" she said, burying her nose in his hair. "It helps me a lot, calms me down. We can trade. I'll give you my scarf."

He exhaled deeply.

"Stay."

It was both a permission and a demand.

"Thank you," she murmured in his ear, choosing to acknowledge only the first part.

The idea that Snape wanted her as much as she wanted him was almost terrifying. And thrilling.

They untangled from each other, fixed their clothing.

"I have rounds to make tonight," Snape said as he let her into the bedroom. "I trust you'll find something to occupy yourself in the meantime."

She nodded, keeping her mouth shut. She was too afraid she'd say the wrong thing and end up thrown out of his quarters.

Snape left, and she explored his bedroom. The books on the shelves were all boring, dry textbooks about potions. Harrie hadn't expected any Syndercombe books in plain view, but she was still a bit disappointed. Snape's library told her absolutely nothing about him that she didn't already know.

She moved on to his desk. At first glance, there was nothing here either. A stack of blank sheets of paper, a standard quill, and that was all. The only drawer was empty. Or was it? Struck by inspiration, Harrie poked at the bottom. Her nails found a soft indent in the wood, and when she pulled, she revealed the true contents of the drawer, hidden underneath.

"Long time no see," she said, smiling at her prize.

She picked up the old Potion manual, and settled into Snape's bed comfortably for a bit of reading. It was like being reunited with a friend. She laughed at the Prince's wit, was dazzled again by the precision and power of his invented spells, and felt a kindred spirit with the rebelliousness that oozed off the pages. She hadn't been aware of it at the time, but she could recognize now what a crush felt like.

Yes, she had had a crush on the Prince.

She remembered lying in bed at night, imagining meeting him. She would have been freshly graduated, with Voldemort dead, and she would have run into him at some party at the Ministry, recognizing him because of a turn of phrase, or something. He would be a Ravenclaw (she had Slytherin as a second guess, but she didn't favor it), and he would be handsome, about ten years older than her, and wouldn't care at all that she was Harrie Potter. He would see her.

Instead, it was Snape.

A Slytherin (not a bad guess, Harrie). With twenty years on her (which was a lot). And not handsome in the classical sense (though his face had a sort of magnetic pull that she couldn't deny). The only fact that fit perfectly was the last one. He didn't care that she was Harrie Potter. She'd been a nuisance to him, an unruly student, and perhaps now she was more, but he didn't care one bit about her fame, or about any of those stupid expectations that had never fit her.

She sighed, lowering the book into her lap. What was she doing, thinking of Snape as a potential romantic partner? He wasn't. It was just sex. And it could never work, anyway. Even if she wanted to, he'd run away at the first suggestion of any feelings. Yeah, feelings and Snape weren't compatible, unless it was plain old hatred.

It was about eleven o'clock when he came back. He looked annoyed, so she couldn't resist asking.

"How did it go? Caught any students misbehaving?"

"Mathilda Walker," he growled. "Third time this week alone. It's like that girl lives at night."

"Maybe you could just look the other way next time? She's not doing anything bad or dangerous. Most of the time she just sneaks to the kitchen."

He sent her a sharp look.

"And how do you know this?"

She most definitely couldn't tell him about the Marauder's Map.

"We're friends," she said with a shrug.

"I have never seen the two of you together."

Now he was looking at her with scrutinizing intent, as if attempting to dissect her thoughts. She blinked, Occluding fiercely. His black gaze didn't leave her. She resisted the urge to squirm, to look away, to betray any guilt.

"You're hiding something from me," Snape said, in a silky murmur.

"So are you. What, did you think that because we're sleeping together I was gonna bare my heart to you? Not gonna happen. You can have my body, but I'll keep my secrets."

His face shifted from probing focus to a satisfied smile.

"Good," he said. "Guard your heart, Potter. It's your greatest weakness."

Voldemort had once told her the very same. Harrie wondered if Snape knew whose words he was echoing, decided it didn't matter. It was classic advice coming from emotionally stunted men, and in this particular case, she would heed it.

Snape removed his cloak, set it aside on a chair.

"Anyway, no, I cannot look the other way," he said. "There are rules. Miss Walker seems to labor under the impression that they don't apply to her, and I intend to set her right before she grows into anymore of a rebel."

"Mmm, and you're all about following the rules," Harrie said, stretching languidly. "You certainly wouldn't let a student into your bed, and you wouldn't fuck her, no, absolutely not."

He froze, shoulders tensing. Harrie thought that perhaps she had overstepped a line, and was about to be thrown out. A second passed, then another.

"It's not the same thing," he said, still holding very still.

"Why?"

"Because... it's you."

She frowned, at a complete loss on how to interpret that.

"So, because I'm a notorious rule-breaker, I would have ended up in a teacher's bed?" she said, venturing a guess.

"That's not what I meant," Snape swiftly retorted, something like anger flashing in his eyes, which only confused Harrie further.

"Then what did you mean?"

"It doesn't matter." He gestured at the Prince's book. "I see you've found my book again."

She accepted the change of subject. Trying to dig into whatever that had been wouldn't lead to anything good.

"Yes," she said, tapping a finger on the page she had been reading. "You were a brilliant young wizard, inventing all those spells."

"Were?" he said as he sat at the edge of the bed and crossed his legs.

"Well, you're not exactly young anymore. But you're still brilliant, I'll give you that."

"I'm so pleased to hear you say that, Miss Potter."

He leaned forward, a challenging smile on his lips.

"And what exactly am I brilliant at?"

"Um..." she said, her brain yanked into a direction she hadn't been considering (despite being in his bed).

"Perhaps I should show you."

He kissed her, and yes, he was really rather brilliant at it. She made mewling noises while his tongue explored her mouth, heat blooming down her spine and gathering in her belly. He kissed her for a long time, until she grew lightheaded from it, as if he had something to prove. Finally his mouth left hers and trailed a path up to her ear.

"We should sleep," he said.

"You kiss me like that and then you want to sleep?" she groaned.

"Delayed." A lick at her ear, hot and slow. "Gratification."

"I hate you."

He laughed, a warm, carefree sound. Harrie reflected on how weird that was, to have him laugh like that at such a declaration (which she sort of meant, in fact), when the opposite, more logical sentence between two people who were having sex would probably have gotten her a horrified look.

They got ready for sleep. Snape changed into soft pyjamas, which surprisingly enough were not black but a light gray, while Harrie stayed in her clothes, simply taking off her bra. She told him she'd bring her pyjamas next time, and perhaps even her toothbrush.

"This cannot become a habit," he replied, though his tone suggested he wouldn't have minded that much.

"I don't see why not. It's temporary, isn't it? And I need your scent on me. It's all very logical."

"If we're discovered..."

"We'll Obliviate them all," she said, dragging the thick blanket over her.

Snape's shocked face was quite something to behold.

"Joking," she clarified.

"Right," he said, slowly, as he swallowed.

He looked like he didn't believe her. But she was joking. Mostly.

In the dark, Harrie sighed, hugging her pillow. Next to her, Snape was silent, lying on his back. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to...

"Can we cuddle?"

"You're aware that the desire to do so is entirely biological?"

There was a slight edge to his voice, not something that cut, but something that... scraped. Like he was trying to goad her into anger, in a subtle way.

Do you want me to tell you I hate you again? Is that what you're looking for?

"Yes, I'm aware," she said. "Let's cuddle. For biological reasons only."

"If you must."

He shifted closer, and she snuggled against him, her head resting on his chest. He coiled an arm around her back, pressing her into him. She sighed, felt a knot of tension in her chest that she hadn't even been aware of unwinding, followed by warmth. Quiet, strong warmth.

Reliable warmth, she thought without knowing why.

Sleep came swiftly.

She dreamed of flying with Snape, his laughter curling in her ears, wrapping around her entire body, a warm, protective blanket, carrying her up and up, until she reached the stars themselves.

Chapter Text

Harrie was floating in soothing warmth, more relaxed than she had ever been in her entire life. She felt even more at ease than the first time she had slept at the Burrow, the first time she had realized what it meant to have a home.

Drowsy happiness suffused every part of her. She savored it, the sensation not that common.

Minutes flowed by, melting into one another.

Then there was movement. Puzzling movement, since it didn't come from her, but she didn't parse it as threatening, so there was no hurry to react. Stretching lazily, she opened her eyes, and frowned at the unfamiliar sight of gray pyjamas.

Snape, her brain supplied.

She blinked up, at his blurry face. Dark eyes, and a smile, and warmth.

"Hello," she said, half-confused and half-vindicated (about what, she didn't know).

The warmth was Snape. What did that mean? Was that good?

Yes, it's good, said a little victorious voice inside her.

"Good morning," he said, and the movement—the movement was him trailing his fingers up her spine. It tickled faintly. Did other things, too.

She licked her lips, unsure how to respond to that. Wait. She had to respond to his 'Good morning', first.

"Morning."

There, done.

"Did you sleep well?" he said.

Another question? She wanted to talk about what his fingers were doing, not answer questions.

"Yes. Very."

He chuckled, which she felt physically, a soft rumble. It spread more warmth inside her chest.

"You're really not a morning person, are you?" he said, smiling in amusement.

"What are you doing?" she retorted.

"Making conversation."

"No, I mean. Your fingers. What are they doing?"

"Nothing," he said, even as they kept climbing up her spine, in a sort of teasing dance.

"You know lying doesn't work so well when there's contradicting evidence happening at the same time, right?"

"You'd be surprised," he said, his eyes glittering like he was enjoying his own private joke.

She grunted, raising a hand to rub at her eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Around nine thirty."

She bolted up, cursing as she escaped Snape's hold. She was so late! She had already missed breakfast, and the start of the first period and—

"It's Saturday," Snape said, cutting short though her panic.

"Saturday," she repeated.

"Yes, Potter, so there's no rush."

He grabbed her wrist, tugged her back toward him. She sprawled inelegantly into him (maybe on purpose), then moved to straddle him, rubbing her bottom against his groin (definitely on purpose). She moaned at what she felt there.

"I guess you're very awake, uh? Is that for me?"

"I don't see anyone else in my bed," he drawled.

"I mean, sometimes erections just happen for no reason. Or so I was told."

"This one has a very specific reason, currently sitting on me as we speak."

She ground down on him, smiled at the spasm that rippled across his face.

"Do you want me to do something about it?" she purred seductively.

"If that's agreeable to you."

"Oh yes."

She moved back, sitting between his legs, and unlaced his trousers. No buttons on his pyjamas. Easier to get his cock out, so she approved wholeheartedly. His erection was flushed red, the tip leaking an impressive amount of pre-cum.

"How long have you been in that state?" she inquired with a smirk.

"Since I woke up with a pretty Omega nestled against me."

"And when was that?"

"About two hours ago."

She gripped his cock firmly, gave him a couple of pumps.

"Why didn't you wake me?" she said, thumbing the tip of his hard length, playing with the wetness there.

"It's a notorious fact that you enjoy sleeping in during the weekends. Should I have risked your wrath?"

His tone was playful, with a bit of rough gravel to his voice which must have come from what she was currently doing.

"You can wake me for sex, Snape. Don't hesitate."

"Even in the middle of the night?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Wake me with your cock in the middle of the night. Fuck me back to sleep."

His cock twitched, but she wasn't sure it that was from her words or from the fact that she had bent down and was about to lick it. She swirled her tongue slowly on his cockhead, frowning again at the taste. There must have been a spell to make it more palatable. Or if there wasn't, maybe Snape could invent one.

Ah, but that was for later. For now, she had a cock to suck. There would be no one to interrupt this time.

She opened her mouth wide, stuck out her tongue, and set about her task with... what had Snape called it? Ah yes. Sloppy enthusiasm.

She licked him all over, down to his balls, went back up, and then she took him in her mouth, trying her best to make it all fit. It was a challenge, to say the least. She sputtered, pressed forward, determined to take everything she could. The tip of him scraped at the opening of her throat, and while she started choking, that wasn't enough to stop her. She lifted her head a bit, took a deep breath and went back a it.

"Potter," Snape growled.

He buried a hand in her hair. His legs tensed under her when she took his cock deep again, her tongue massaging his length. She was breathless, and drooling, and frankly a mess of wanting need and desperate lust, but she wouldn't stop this for the world.

"Slow down, Potter..."

No, she wouldn't slow down either. That was her answer to his delayed gratification. Sloppy enthusiasm, and for all his protests that he didn't like it, his cock didn't seem to agree. She could feel it pulse on her tongue, was guessing he wasn't that far off from coming.

Coming in her mouth.

The thought made her moan. Snape's hand clenched in her hair. He grunted, his hips snapping up, forcing his cock further down her throat. She moaned again, burning with lust despite the fact that she couldn't breathe. Or perhaps because of it.

"Fuck," Snape groaned.

His hips jerked up, and now both his hands were in her hair, holding her in place, and he was all but fucking her mouth, in short, stuttered thrusts. She took it, took that rough throat fucking, thighs pressed together, heart slamming in her chest, no air reaching her lungs. Through her tears, she looked up at Snape. The moment their gazes connected, his body went taut, and he came with a snarl, spilling his cum straight down her throat.

She swallowed, and swallowed, before finally jerking away, sucking in a huge gasp of air.

"Oh, wow," she said in a weak whisper of voice.

"That's... what happens when you don't listen to me," Snape said.

She made a noise halfway between a giggle and a hiccup, put a hand between her legs, finding her clit, rolling circles on it, closing her eyes, her breath coming in pants, reliving the last few seconds. Snape's snarl, and his cock twitching, and—he was there, sinking two fingers inside her, his mouth at her ear, his other hand tight against her scalp.

"Did you like it? Did you like sucking me off, swallowing my cum?"

She mewled, her body jack-knifing forward, her hips jolting.

"Yes? Filthy girl." A swipe of his tongue at her ear, and a brutal drive of his fingers in her, punching her with pleasure. "Come for me. I want to feel you gush all over my fingers."

And just like that, she was coming, her climax striking her in a sudden rush of hot bliss. She let out a groan, writhing against Snape, riding out the orgasm until she sagged against him, spent and breathless.

"It's unfair how hot you are," she said, which was a thought she could only have voiced in that state, her head swimming with the endorphins from her release.

"You're taking the words right out of my mouth."

He was looking at her with a strange expression. There was amusement there, but also... fondness? Like he liked her. Then he blinked, and she blinked as well, and it was gone. He removed his hands from her, pushed her away.

"You should go before your friends notice you're not in your bed."

"Yeah."

She left the bed (reluctantly), the warmth (very reluctantly), grabbed her glasses and her wand. Her thighs were sticky with her own slick, so she cast a quick spell to take care of that. Retrieving her cloak and draping it over her shoulders, she shot a smile at Snape. He didn't smile back, only looked at her, eyes narrowed, mouth pressed thin.

"Do I need to say I don't regret it?" she said.

"You need to leave."

She pulled the cloak over her head.

"I'll be back tonight."

"Don't." He stared at her, even though she was invisible now. "I told you, not every night."

"And as we know, I always listen to you," she snarked back.

His face took on a long-suffering expression. She turned away.

"You're forgetting the book," he called as she was at the door.

It was on the bedside table.

"Did you even sign it?" she grumbled, opening it at the first page.

He had. Several lines, shining in silver ink.

To Miss Lovegood, my most adoring fan. May the Prince's tale always entertain you.

Seabert Syndercombe

"Oh, it's sort of sweet. I didn't know you could be sweet."

"Syndercombe can be sweet. I'm bitter."

"Is there a spell for that?" she said with a half-smile he couldn't see.

"Out. Now."

"Yes, sir. Leaving right away, and not coming back tonight."

She hurried out before he could growl more.

Sneaking back to Gryffindor's Tower from the dungeons took some time, but at least she had her cloak. She passed by some students, including Neville, who was always up early, and Mathilda Walker, who was cheerfully bouncing along while also eating a sandwich.

Harrie waited by the Fat Lady until a student asked to walk in, followed, and carefully negotiated a path through the half-filled common room. It wasn't the first time she was sneaking back after sleeping out (she had spent some nights in the Room of Requirement in her fifth year, when she wanted to be left alone), but the reason for her actions brought a blush to her cheeks.

She was sleeping with Snape. It had happened twice, so it was kind of official now. Once was a mistake, but twice? There was no denying it.

She didn't want to stop. She wanted to sleep in his bed every fucking night. Take his cock every fucking night, too. Have as much pleasure as she could have, bicker with that frustrating bat of a man, and maybe make him like her a little bit.

She knew that last part wouldn't happen. It was just sexual, and he still had reservations even about that. She wouldn't be courted by the Half-Blood Prince, she thought with a wry smile as she hid the book under her pillow. She'd give it to Luna in a few days. She couldn't hand it back after barely half a day, that'd be suspicious.

Pretending she had just woken up, she took a shower, then went down to the common room.

"You're up early," Hermione remarked.

It was about ten and a half, which was indeed early if you took into account the factors of 'Harrie' and 'weekend'.

"I had a nightmare," she said, shrugging. "Dreamed I fell of my broom and Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup."

"But you can't get nightmares on sleeping draughts," Hermione said, in her I-know-what-I'm-talking-about tone (which was her default tone, because she was Hermione).

"Uh," Harrie said, suddenly remembering that she was utter shite at improvising lies. "I... forgot to take the potion."

While Hermione nodded, Harrie could see in her eyes she wasn't totally off the hook. For a moment, she wondered what Hermione would even say. She'd be supportive, definitely, and maybe she wouldn't judge Harrie, but she would judge Snape. She'd worry that he was taking advantage of her, using his Alpha domination to seduce her. Perhaps she'd even tell someone else, in an effort to protect Harrie.

Good meaning, bad results. So Harrie switched gears and pretended she had a question about their latest History of Magic class. Soon Hermione was explaining all about the rise of democracy in Giant society, while Harrie listened intently.

Crisis averted.

Snape wasn't in the Great Hall at lunch, which disappointed her. Was he avoiding her? No, probably not. He didn't take all his meals in the Great Hall. She simply never had cause to care about his absence before.

She had Quidditch practice in the afternoon, and for a while she didn't think about Snape at all. She flew, fearlessly, dodging Bludgers, weaving her way through the air, diving, rising high, diving again, yanking her broom up just before she collided with the ground and then zipped along a mere foot from the grass.

The sessions left her flush and sweaty, muscles thoroughly worked out, a happy, satisfied glow in her chest. She took care to stretch after all that exercise. She'd get some cramps, mostly in her thighs, but they were light ones. Nothing like those she'd gotten after her first time with Snape, and ah, there she was, thinking about him again.

"You really love that scarf," Ginny commented from where she was squatting on the ground, doing her own stretches.

"Yeah," Harrie smiled, because after a month of it, she had grown to like wearing a scarf. "It's so warm and comfy."

"I'll tell Mum so she knows what to knit you for Christmas this year."

"Oh, please, yes."

Ginny smiled, showing no sign of having guessed the real reason Harrie wore scarves everywhere now. In fact, aside from Malfoy who had made some stupid comments about needing to hide hickeys, and some other Slytherins copying him, nobody seemed to care. And as Snape had predicted, some younger girls were imitating her, mostly Gryffindors.

She hadn't thought about it in weeks, but Ginny's remark brought the future to the front of Harrie's mind. She could wear that scarf until March, perhaps mid-April, and then she'd have to find something else. A spell to create a localized illusion, maybe? She'd ask Hermione. Or Snape.

She walked back to the castle thinking about him, the cold December air nipping at her cheeks. She had reached the courtyard when she came upon them, two figures in conversation. Snape, in his billowing black robes, and Mathilda Walker, wearing a big winter coat and a yellow scarf. The Hufflepuff smiled at Harrie, waving a hand.

"Hullo, Harrie! We were just talking about you."

"Hello, Mathilda, Professor Snape," Harrie said.

Four words, and all lies: she had greeted Mathilda as if they were friends, and she had already said hello to Snape this morning in his bed. That had to be her record.

"Miss Potter," Snape said, regarding her with those coal-black eyes that betrayed nothing but slight irritation.

"I was telling Professor Snape all about the first time we met, while we were both out of bed after curfew," Mathilda said.

"Which led me to wonder if one can retroactively take points when a student confesses a past offense," Snape said, giving his you're-in-trouble glare to Mathilda, who appeared utterly unaffected.

"That was two years ago," Harrie commented. "Surely such long past sins can be forgiven, Professor."

That one wasn't a lie. Harrie vaguely remembered bumping into a first-year Mathilda one time at night, near the kitchen. She knew they had exchanged a few words, though she couldn't recall them.

"Since you're such good friend with Miss Walker, Potter, perhaps you might explain to her that students are not supposed to wander the premises at night."

"But I only have seven years at Hogwarts, Professor," Mathilda chimed in. "And the castle is so vast! How could I explore it all if I don't wander at night? I just have to."

She paused, frowning.

"Unless... I suppose I could become a teacher once I've graduated. That would give me more time."

"Please don't," Snape said, looking slightly horrified. "I'm sure you will find a much more fulfilling career than teaching," he added, obviously trying to damage control his initial reaction.

"You don't like teaching, sir?" she said.

At that, Snape shrugged.

"Each year brings unruly students who think they can bend the rules as they please," he said, his gaze encompassing both Harrie and Mathilda.

It left Harrie unfazed, and Mathilda smiled as if he had paid her a compliment.

"Rules are other people's suggestions on how to go through life," she said. "I prefer making my own way."

"That is exactly the kind of attitude that will land you in detention again and again, and ultimately hamper your education."

"Fred and George had the same point of view, and they're doing all right for themselves," Harrie pointed out.

"By what miracle, we shall never know," Snape retorted, eyes narrowing. "I insist, Miss Walker. No more nightly wanderings."

"I promise you won't see me, sir," Mathilda said, which didn't mean she'd stop doing it.

Snape decided that was good enough, gave them both a nod, and strode off. Harrie watched him walk away, his cloak flapping in the wind, lending a dramatic flair to his exit.

"You told him we were friends," Mathilda said.

"Thanks for lying for me."

"Not a lie," Mathilda said, smiling and sticking out a hand. "We're friends now."

"Yes, we are," Harrie said, shaking her hand.

Mathilda's smile widened. She produced nougat sticks from her pockets, offered one to Harrie, who graciously accepted

"Do you think Professor Snape is a vampire?" Mathilda asked kind of offhandedly, munching on her nougat.

"...have you been talking to Luna?"

"Luna's my friend too. She has this theory... well, a lot of theories, really, but that one got me curious."

"He's not a vampire," Harrie said, smiling around her mouthful of candy. "I mean, I'm pretty sure he's not."

"No. Something else... Werewolf?"

"Not a werewolf either."

"Ah," Mathilda said, peering up at Harrie with an intent look. "You know that secret. You know what he is."

Harrie filled her mouth with nougat and said nothing.

"It's all right. I would never ask you to betray his secret. I'll find out myself!"

"Maybe some secrets should stay secret," Harrie suggested.

"Now you sound like a teacher." A pause as Mathilda chewed on her nougat. "Is that what you're planning to do once you're done with Hogwarts?"

The question took Harrie by surprise.

"Maybe," she said.

The truth was that she had no plans. None whatsoever. Voldemort loomed on the horizon like a wall of shadows, cutting her off from the rest of her life, and while he was out there, she couldn't imagine her future. She was living exclusively in the present. Which probably explained why she had jumped at the chance to end up in Snape's bed. She hadn't really worried about consequences.

"I'd like to have you as a teacher," Mathilda said, oblivious to Harrie's grim thoughts.

"I'd still dock you points if I came across you at night," Harrie said with a smile.

"Of course! But any points I lose, I gain back in class. I'm very thorough with my net total. It always stands at zero." Faced with Harrie's frown, she explained further. "I don't agree with the general principle of the House Cup, and the competition between Houses it generates. So I refuse to participate in it. I'm neutral."

"I see," Harrie said, blinking at this novel point of view.

"I have to go now, Luna's expecting me. See you, Harrie!"

"Bye, Mathilda," Harrie replied to her new friend.

Night fell quickly on the castle. Harrie devoured dinner, always famished after Quidditch practice. Snape wasn't there either. She tried not to care about it, failed.

She spent the evening in the common room, relaxing and playing chess against Ron, both her and Hermione teaming up against him (he still won most of the time). When she went to bed, she changed into her pyjamas, but she kept her cloak and her wand close, just in case. Yeah, in case.

Then she tried to convince herself to go to sleep.

Sleep, Harrie. He said not tonight.

He wouldn't want her in his bedroom.

He'd be angry.

Oh, yes.

An angry Snape.

An angry Snape, in the dark.

She muffled a groan into her pillow, cursing her hormones. Why did she want him so much? He was just... Snape. Stupid, sexy Snape. And she was leaking slick in her knickers, wet at the simple thought of him.

Her Alpha.

She held out ten more minutes, tormented by her imagination, then she draped herself in her cloak, cast a Lumos at minimum strength, and sneaked off. She went down the multiple staircases, all the way from the seventh floor to the dungeons (the trouble of being a Gryffindor meeting up with a Slytherin). Each step wound her need tighter, made her nerves crackle and her belly flutter, and by the time she reached Snape's door, her pulse was racing in her throat, her blood burning with excitement.

She cast a non-verbal Alohomora and entered Snape's office in a quick, silent way. Once inside, she paused, half-expecting to be ambushed like last time. Seconds ticked by without anything happening. She crept forward, reached the bedroom door. When she tried the handle, the door opened without a sound.

She prowled into the bedroom, all her senses on alert. The light of her Lumos fell on the bed.

It was empty.

The moment she realized it, it was already too late. Her wand flew out of her grasp, a hand grabbed her shoulder, and she was shoved face first into the wall, her breath driven from her lungs. A hard body pressed at her back, the point of a wand digging into her throat. A dizzying rush of adrenaline washed over her, along with a spike of sudden heat, searing between her legs.

"You never listen, do you?" came his voice, gravel rough, right next to her ear.

His scent was all around her, intoxicating. In the dark, she felt anchorless, except for him, his hands on her, his chest at her back, his wand at her throat, as if he were the only thing that existed, had ever existed.

"Sneaking into the bedroom of a Death Eater, at night. Dangerous and foolish, Potter. You've the self-preservation instinct of a drunk gnome."

She tipped her head back against his shoulder. His wand followed, chasing her pulse point, staying on it like the teeth of a predator about to bite down.

"I happen to have a talent at staying alive," she said. "Quite remarkable, really. And besides, this particular Death Eater doesn't mean me harm."

"That rather depends on your definition of harm," he said, his hand flexing on her shoulder.

"You sound angry."

"I am."

She wiggled back against him.

"So punish me, sir."

She heard his quick intake of breath, felt it, then his hand left her shoulder. He jerked down her pyjamas trousers, her knickers, and his hand met her bare arse with shocking strength in a hard slap. Her reflexive whimper got stuck in her throat, her hips jolting.

"Is this what you want?" Snape said, nails racking across her stinging skin.

"Yes," she said, every molecule in her body vibrating in anticipation.

He shifted, moving his wand arm to brace it across her front, the pressure of his body against hers easing as he gave himself more room to maneuver.

"To ten. You will count."

Before she could say anything, he delivered another hard thwack to her arse. Her whimper made it out this time, a little animal sound straddling the line between pain and need.

"Count," Snape reminded her, steel in his tone.

"One."

God, was that really her voice? That meek mouse squeak?

"Giving me the first one for free? How generous of you."

Right. It should have been two. Stupid mistake, but her brain wasn't cooperating, swamped by Snape's voice, Snape's hands, Snape's entire presence at her back, dark and deliciously dangerous.

His hand struck her arse again.

"Two," she gasped.

He wasn't gentle at all. Pain radiated along her nerves, but with it came prickles of heat, dancing at the base of her spine, gathering between her legs. She bit her lips.

It hurt, and she wanted it. It hurt, and she liked it.

He'd been right to call her a masochist. And he was a sadist, which she'd known for some time. Sexually compatible, all right.

A sharp crack, again, his hand landing violently on her right arsecheek. She leaned into his arm, her hands sliding against the wall.

"Three."

"You're doing well so far," he commented coldly while palming her arse.

"You've barely done anything," she goaded him. "I don't see why I'd—"

Crack, crack, two hard swats, right then left. Harrie keened, toes curling.

"Fuck, Snape, ah... four, five."

She had barely finished speaking that he spanked her again, the blow stoking the fresh pain. His strikes were precise, calculated to build the tension inside her. Her breath had gone shallow, and the pain was morphing into a deeper ache, one that throbbed in her cunt in a telltale pulse.

"Six," she said, straining a bit in his hold.

"Keep mouthing off and I will make it fifteen, Potter."

"Ah, please, n—" Crack! "Fuck! Se-seven."

Snape chuckled.

"Listen to you. What would everyone say if they could hear the Chosen One stumbling over her words because she's getting a spanking from her professor?"

"Nnng-gh," she emitted, her brain failing to materialize any coherent answer.

"Don't like that idea, do you? You're right. Nobody will get to hear you, or see you, or touch you. I'm keeping you all to myself."

He rained down two more burning blows on her arse, quickly. She moaned as pleasure whipped at her senses, made all the brighter by the pain.

"Eight, nine..."

She rubbed her thighs together, so close from sticking a hand down there and giving herself what she needed. She was so wet her slick was dripping down her cunt. Every nerve in her lower half felt bathed in fire, pain from Snape's hand, pleasure from his hand too, all of it from him.

"Are you really going to come from a mere spanking?" he said, mocking, and that too drove her desire higher.

His hand wound tight in her hair, tugging her head back. A little groan tumbled from her lips.

"I asked you a question, Potter."

"Yes, please," she whimpered, knowing one more hard swat would be enough to light the fuse. She was knee-deep in gasoline and eager to burn.

Snape pressed his lips to her ear, and through the haze of lust, she noticed he too was breathing hard.

"I want to hear you," he murmured. "Do not silence yourself. Do you understand?"

She gave a moan in answer, her hips twitching, a mounting hard ball of pressure knotting at the apex of her cunt. Snape released her hair. There was a single second of nothing, of waiting, of breathless darkness, and then he brought down his hand full on her arse, one quick, firm blow.

The orgasm was wrenched out of her, unfurling in a snap. Light exploded in her vision, her back arching, her legs shuddering in violent spasms. She didn't hold back her noises, one long fuuuuuck followed by gasping mewls and whimpers, each one weaker than the last, until her lips were moving without sound. She writhed as she rode out the last twitches of climax, her hips moving mindlessly.

"Ten," she muttered at last, slumping against Snape.

He placed one hand at her back, pushed her against the wall, gently. She heard the rustle of clothes, and she knew what that meant, but it was a sort of distant knowledge, divorced from reality. It became very real when he nudged her thighs apart with a knee, and then thrust up inside her. She whined at the sudden stretch, at the brutal way he hilted himself, impaling her with the thick girth of him.

"That's what you were offering the first time, if I recall. Against the wall."

She moaned something back, a wordless yes, her entire body aflame and shuddering. Her muscles clenched around him, accommodating his size. She braced herself against the wall, sweaty palms pressed there, but Snape was sort of holding her anyway, his arms still wrapped around her upper chest, his wand caressing her throat.

"I'll take the offer, this time," he said.

He withdrew from her, slowly, almost lazily. She felt every inch on the way out, the drag of his cock along her walls providing thrilling friction. Then his hips snapped up again, meeting her arse with a lewd slap, pain and pleasure stabbing at her like twin daggers. While her arse throbbed from the spanking, her sex was a hot, dripping mess, desperate to feel more of Snape. Feel him again and again, repeatedly.

"I'll have you right there as you're trembling for me."

He placed his free hand on her left hip, squeezed the flesh there, gave another thrust.

"Make use of that perfect cunt..."

In this position, his cock couldn't reach as deep, but it was stroking right against that sensitive spot at the start of her cunt, putting glorious amounts of pressure right there, and that felt exactly right. She squirmed, rutting back into Snape, whining for him to go faster.

"And I'll listen to all your pretty whimpers," he growled, lips touching her ear. "Go on, make some noise. No one can hear you."

He moved inside her with more speed, in short, intent thrusts. She couldn't have stayed silent even if she had wished to. She squealed and moaned as he fucked her, completely engulfed in pleasure now, the pain barely noticeable, a soft undercurrent that added a wicked bite to the bliss. There were wet noises too, squelches when he pushed in, and the sound of his balls hitting her sopping folds. Her cunt was clenching around him on every stroke, dripping more slick.

"No one even knows you're here," he said between strokes. "I could keep you speared on my cock all night."

The threat had her keening, arching back into Snape, hips jerking, thighs squeezing.

"You wouldn't even object, would you?" he said with a low chuckle.

Her only answer was a long moan, which abruptly became a squeak when he slammed into her, harder than all the previous times. His pace suddenly picked up, an unrelenting, sharp rhythm that was rougher, more brutal, and somehow still steady. Her body quaked, her blood set ablaze. Her hands scrambled against the wall for a moment, then she switched target, clutching at Snape's arms, fingers curling into the fabric of his pyjamas.

She didn't even feel the sting of her spanked arsecheeks anymore. There was only pleasure, all-consuming, building hotter and hotter on every drive of that perfect cock inside her. He glided in and out with no reprieve, no mercy, and no indication that he would be done any time soon. Perhaps he would actually do it, keep her like that all night. She wasn't sure she would survive it.

Even now, she was struggling to breathe under the onslaught, sucking air in little strangled gasps. Struggling to think, too. Her thoughts were spiraling into a complete flurry, and the only clear ones were just Snape and so good.

She must have said it out loud at one point, because Snape nipped her ear and said, "I think we can do better than good, don't you?"

Abruptly, he pulled out, stepped back. She protested at the loss of his cock, letting out a confused whine. What had he stopped? She didn't want him to stop!

Hands on her shoulders, he spun her to the right, shoved her forward. Toward the bed? In the dark, she couldn't tell, and she stumbled, her legs getting tangled up in her pyjamas. He must have stepped on them, as in the next second she felt a resistance and managed to entirely step out of them. He shoved her again, not very hard, just enough to make her feel who was in control. She took a couple of steps, half-flailing.

"I can't see shit," she complained.

"You don't need to see," came Snape's answer, growled low behind her.

He shoved her for a third time, and then she was in his bed, sprawled on her belly in the soft blanket. He joined her, the mattress dipping under his weight, yanked off her knickers, her pyjamas top too, leaving her completely naked save for her socks. She squirmed, blindly reaching back, looking for his cock. He captured her wrists, pinned them above her head, spread her legs and thrust back inside her, to the root. She shrieked at the rough treatment, absolute elation seared into her brain. He pulled back, drove forward, immediately finding that hard rhythm again.

She found she preferred it like that. His cock went deeper, stretched her wider, every inch throbbing in her cunt, and there was all the weight of him, pressing into her, keeping her pinned down. She couldn't move back as much, so she rocked her hips in shallow little twitches, mewling out her pleasure.

"Better?" Snape panted against her neck. "You like having my cock deep in that slick little cunt?"

"Yes," she whimpered. "Yesyesyes..."

He shifted, one hand coming up at her hip to adjust the angle, moving her, moving them both. Harrie didn't understand what he was doing, didn't think it made that much of a difference, until his hips snapped forward, and she choked on her scream. Oh fuck, oh fuck. This was definitely different.

Deeper, fuller. She hadn't thought it possible, and yet...

She groaned at the next thrust, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head. The head of his cock was reaching which she was pretty sure was her cervix, delivering a jolt of electricity with every stroke, not pleasure but not pain either, simply intensity, raw and brutal. It felt like he was seizing her spine with both hands on each thrust, felt like he was fucking her whole body rather than just her cunt.

It felt like madness.

Madness, and perfection.

Harrie whined, and moaned, and pleaded, squirming and thrashing under Snape, frantic with the primal need to come, a building pressure in her core, a tightening noose around her neck, unbearable, unbearable, unbeara—

Everything broke at once, and a flood of molten pleasure submerged her. Her lungs spasmed, her mouth opened without a sound, her cunt pulsing wildly around Snape's cock as her feet kicked on their own. Snape contained her writhing, kept pumping inside her, slamming his weight into her like he meant to break the bed and her with it.

But it didn't feel so much as breaking, more like coming alive, being reborn in white-hot ecstasy.

She ended up panting dazedly into the blanket, head empty of any thoughts, all her muscles loose, nearly liquid.

Snape was still hard inside, still thrusting, though his pace was much slower. He was rolling his hips in deep, long strokes, his breathing harsh in her ear. She could feel his heavy knot slapping against her wetness, stimulating the outside of her sex. It wasn't long before heat burned again in her belly, before little zings of pleasure traveled up and down her cunt, before she leaked more slick between them.

She was gasping out constant ah, ah, ah, a counterpoint to Snape's almost grunts. The pleasure had an odd edge, every nerve fucked into oversensitivity. It felt like she was too full, like she was going to burst from the pressure of all of him inside her, but there was no sense of any climax looming. Just fullness, and heat, and him.

"Severus," she groaned.

He froze mid-thrust. Held still, halfway inside her, as if she had asked him to stop instead of saying his name.

"Sorry," she said, feeling stupid. "Is that... is that too weird? I take it ba—"

He dropped his full weight on her, hips smacking her arse, his cock spearing her open the rest of the way.

"Say it again."

She shuddered at the dark tone of his voice, at that hungry rasp.

"Severus," she said, dragging out the last syllable.

He squeezed her wrists, his other hand leaving her hip to yank on her hair.

"Again," he ordered, with a lick at her ear, searing hot.

She complied, began chanting his name, though she was sometimes interrupted by her gasps of pleasure. His pace had slowed again, and now there were long seconds between the time he withdrew and the time he surged back inside her. When he did, when he plunged his cock to the hilt, it was with brutal force, making the whole bed quake, and making her squeal.

"Sev—ah, Severus, Sev—fuck—"

She was vaguely aware her neck was cramping from the way he was holding her head back, knew that tomorrows' cramps would be spectacular, and her cunt had never felt that sensitive, that raw, but she didn't want it to stop. Ever.

Three more hammering of his cock inside her, and he ground against her, his knot pressing against her fluttering sex.

"Ask me to come inside you," he said.

"That means... you'll knot me."

"Yes."

A growl, as he kept grinding, letting her feel everything he had for her.

"Ask me," he said again.

"Please," she panted, with a high keening cry. "Please, yes... Come in me, Severus."

He let go of her hair, put both hands at her hips, gripping her with no possibility of escape, and flexed his hips forward. His knot pressed at her entrance, a hot, pulsing thing, so large she couldn't imagine it would fit. And then it would swell even further once it was in her, and he would come inside her. The thought sent a vertiginous rush of heat through her, tingling to every extremity, until she could feel her heartbeat in her eyes, at her fingertips, in her cunt.

"Relax," Snape said gruffly, thumbs rubbing slow circles at her hips.

She exhaled, dropping her head forward, forehead pressed against the cool sheets. Exhaled again, emitting a humming noise to signal to Snape he could go on.

The pressure between her legs increased. He worked his knot in with rocking motions, forcing the massive girth past the rim of her hole. Her cunt fluttered, her breath hitching at the feeling of that much inside her, and then more, and then more.

"Oh... oh, that's..."

She couldn't find the words. Snape grunted, pushed deeper still. Her slick eased the way, and the knot slipped inside, fully, forcing her walls to expand, to take it. All of it, as it throbbed, swelling to its true size. She gave a little breathless sob, at once surprised and awed that her body seemed to adapt, her cunt gripping Snape's knot, clamping down on it, locking them together

He shuddered violently, pressed up against her so close. She shuddered with him.

"Harrie," he groaned.

His cock jerked, spurting heat inside her, thick, heavy bursts of semen, right against her womb. She registered that, her mind swirling from the sensation. Snape coming. Snape coming inside her, his knot lodged fully in her trembling cunt.

Her teeth were in the blanket, biting down so hard her jaw buzzed, and Snape's teeth were in her shoulder, planted deep. Pleasure swelled, a storm of it, striking her stronger and stronger with every twitch of Snape's cock in her cunt, with every spurt of cum he gave her, until it became so much she couldn't withstand it.

Overloaded on bliss, her brain ceased to function, and that was it.

Harrie, out.

*

She woke to a hand stroking her hair, and an impossible pressure between her thighs. Her face was lying in a wet spot, her mouth open, still drooling on the sheets. Groaning, she squirmed beneath the weight on her.

Snape, the weight was Snape.

"Don't try to move," he said, his hand moving to her nape. "My knot is still in."

She could feel it, stretching her to a burning, full ache. Pulsing, too. As she licked her lips, her hands clenching in the blanket, Snape shuddered above her, and another spurt of heat branded her from the inside.

"Fuck," she whined. "How... long?"

He didn't reply immediately, grunting instead. His hips flexed minutely, and he exhaled a slow breath.

"You were unconscious for three minutes."

"Three," she repeated, dazed.

That had seemed like nothing at all. A blink of darkness, of nothingness.

She was still in darkness, but every single other sense was working in overdrive. Touch, with Snape's body on her, his cock and his knot crammed into her cunt. Hearing, with his rapid breathing, echoing hers. Smell, and his scent, all around her. Taste, something metallic in her mouth—either she had bitten her tongue hard enough to draw blood, or it was more of Snape's scent, thicker, richer.

"You keep passing out when I fuck you," he remarked, his fingers tickling her nape.

"Why are you saying it like it's my fault?"

"That didn't happen with anyone else I fucked."

"They weren't an Omega, and you didn't fuck them as good," she said, petulantly.

"True," he returned.

She smiled, but she wasn't given much time to enjoy that small victory. A couple of seconds later, he tensed against her, grunting again, flooding her with more of his cum. A spasm wrecked her cunt, one fierce lance of bliss that forced a series of whimpers from her lips.

"Uh..." she whined when the pleasure receded. "Ah... how... long?"

The book had said several hours, which was too vague.

"Why, do you have somewhere to be?" Snape said, in a teasing tone.

"No, I love it here. It just feels like I'm gonna burst if you keep, ah, doing that."

"You can take much more." It sounded like a dark promise, and she shivered accordingly. "Two hours, maybe three," he added. "However, I can make it less, if it should prove too much for you."

"No, it's fine."

"If you insist."

All smug and pleased. She was gonna retort something snarky when it happened again, his cock jerking inside her, spilling more cum. There was so much she could feel it seeping out, dripping to the bed below. There would be one giant wet spot once they would be done. Not that she cared about that at all, not while she writhed in pleasure beneath her Alpha. It was so good it felt like an orgasm, a small, detonating one, shaking her from the inside.

"You smug bastard," she remembered to say a while later, when her mouth was working again.

"What am I smug about?"

That, she didn't remember.

"Dunno. You're just."

"You seem to be missing words in your sentence."

So fucking smug.

"Fuck you," she said, which seemed appropriate.

"I am. I'm knot deep inside you. Do you know what that means?"

"Yes, it means I won."

"No, it means you're mine."

He pressed his mouth to her shoulder, tongue swiping at a place that felt tender. Tender? Oh, right.

"You bit me," she said, in a vaguely accusing tone.

"You liked it."

She sighed, trying to work out how true the statement was. Another terrible, perfect spike of pleasure derailed her thoughts for a while, and she panted for minutes afterwards, eyes closed, lying in a sort of blissed-out stupor.

"I'll have a mark," she managed some more minutes later.

"Why would anyone look at your bare shoulder?"

"Quidditch locker room," she simply said.

"Hmm. I can give you detention to stop you from playing any Quidditch for the next week."

"No. Absolutely not."

"Then you'll have to find a way to explain those teeth marks."

"And say what, that my secret lover bit me?"

He licked her again, then let his teeth drag over her skin.

"If you like. Nobody will ever think of me."

There was a particular emotion layering his tone, but it was a complicated one, and Harrie wasn't in any state to do any complex thinking, so she let it lie.

"No," she agreed. "You're the last person anyone would think of."

They didn't talk much after that. There were grunts and moans, shared shudders and shared pleasure, and Harrie progressively devolved into a puddle of happy goo until there remained nothing in her head but the knowledge that Snape was fucking her full of his cum.

Eventually, two hours later, he had softened enough that he could slip out, and he did so gently. There was still a mild sting that made Harrie groan. Then she felt oddly empty. Empty, but satisfied. She'd taken her Alpha's knot, all of it.

Snape cast a few cleaning spells, taking care of the wet sheets and the absolute mess between her legs. One spell wasn't enough to make everything dry, and when she felt another one at work on her body, she issued a moan of protest.

"Does it hurt?" Snape said, sounding concerned. "It shouldn't, unless I did something wrong."

"No pain. I want to keep some."

"Pardon?"

"Your cum. I want to keep some in me."

There was a warm chuckle, closer to her.

"Filthy girl," Snape said, moving a strand of her hair off her face.

"Your fault."

He said nothing, which meant she was right. Emboldened by that success, she emitted a needy sound.

"Cuddle," she demanded.

He complied without telling her it was a biological need, snuggling to her back, wrapping one strong arm around her.

"Thank you," she said, without knowing if that was for the cuddle, the great sex, or something else.

He didn't reply, so maybe he didn't know either. Before she could do more thinking on the subject, sleep took her.

*

She woke to an aching body. It felt like ten Quidditch training sessions rolled into one, with a terrible emphasis on her vagina.

"Gggnnnuuuhh," she said, rubbing her eyes with a grimace.

When she lowered her hand and blinked, a small bottle had appeared in her field of vision. The bottle was held by two elegant fingers, which belonged to a equally elegant hand, and then there was a hint of a white shirt, and a dark sleeve, and...

"Hello," she said to Snape, who was fully dressed and not in bed with her.

"Drink this," he said.

She took the bottle, drank its content without question. Quickly, a warmth spread into her body, easing her cramps. She wiggled her legs, sat up. Her vagina still felt like it had taken a brutal pounding.

"Do you have a stronger version of that potion?"

"It will take its full effect after an hour, but some lingering soreness in your sex is inevitable. That was your first knot."

He said it matter-of-factly, with no emotions behind it. He wasn't cold, not exactly, but there was a distance between them. This wasn't the Snape of last night, and it especially wasn't the Snape who had called her Harrie.

"When can we do it again?"

That got her a mild scowl.

"Recover, first, before thinking of more," he said, his tone suggesting he found her question foolish.

She stretched, got up slowly, stretched again. Even with the potion's help, that qualified as a rough morning.

"Don't you have cramps?" she asked Snape.

"Nothing the potion wasn't able to take care of."

"Really?"

"What are you implying, Potter?" he sort of growled at her.

"Um..." she said as she started putting on her pyjamas.

You're older? I didn't think you were that athletic? You fucked me for hours, shouldn't that mean awful cramps too?

"Nothing," she said. "I'm glad you're fine so we can do this again soon."

"Not soon. You need to—"

"Recover, yes, I got it. Relax, I'm not gonna jump on your dick while everything downstairs feels like I took a broomstick straight up."

He nodded stiffly.

"I'll have another potion delivered to you tomorrow."

"Don't bother, I'll come pick it up."

He glared at her, but didn't protest. She smiled, holding his gaze, a triumphant spark lighting up her chest.

"Is that still biology?"

"Shut up, Potter, and get out."

She went without complaint, a lasting smile on her face.

Chapter Text

"I got you the autograph you wanted."

Luna looked up, her eyes widening when she saw the book Harrie was offering her.

"Really, you did?" she said, instantly abandoning her homework.

She read the autograph, her face lighting up as she took in the words.

"He called me his most adoring fan... Oh, Harrie, thank you!"

She traced a wandering finger below the words inked in silver.

"I imagine it's worth a lot more now," Harrie said, hoping Luna had never paid attention to Snape's handwriting.

"I'm not going to sell it!"

"No, no. Just pointing it out."

"Syndercombe wouldn't want me to sell it," she added, closing the book and hugging it to her chest. "It's got a high sentimental value, now more than ever."

"I don't think Syndercombe would care, actually. His response to my request led me to think he's not a very sentimental man."

Luna gave her a long look.

"But he's a fan of yours," she said.

Harrie shrugged, making it as casual as possible.

"You might say that, yes."

"Do you think you could send him another letter? Thanking him for the autograph, and maybe suggesting that he could write a sequel?"

"Sure, I can try."

Luna thanked her again, starry sparks of happiness in her eyes.

That night, after dinner (which had been Snape-less yet again), Harrie went to the Prefects' bathroom and spent a good hour relaxing in the bath. When she got out of the water, her skin was pruning, and the ache between her legs she had carried around all day had faded to a faint twinge.

She toweled off, renewed the shaving Charm on her legs. Then she wondered if she ought to do something to her pubic hair. Her hesitation was short-lived, and she put her wand away. Snape obviously liked her as she was.

She redressed, put on her cloak, headed toward the dungeons. It was late, but Snape was at his desk, working. He didn't even look up when she entered.

"What you need is on the desk," he said.

She drank the potion, then, without saying anything, she sat on the desk very close to him, her legs crossed.

"Do you mind, Potter? I have essays to grade."

She glanced down.

"Are those the ones you gave us last week?"

"Yes. And let me say that your theory that ingredients chosen with love come with more potency was particularly idiotic."

"I thought it had merit," she said, trailing a finger up his sleeve.

He stopped writing to glare at her.

"It would only hold true if you were brewing Amortentia," he said, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "You presented it as a universal truth. Do you see the problem?"

"Maybe I want to brew Amortentia."

"Whatever for? Everyone already loves Harrie Potter," he said, practically spitting the words out.

"Not everyone."

He rolled his eyes, nostrils flaring in irritation.

"I doubt feeding Amortentia to the Dark Lord would solve your problem."

She grimaced.

"Ew, don't say that."

Then thought about it beyond the instinctive disgust.

"Although... what do you think it smells like for him?"

"The smell of ultimate power, whatever it is," Snape said, switching his focus back to the essays.

She watched him a moment, appreciating his face. The hooked nose, the thin lips, the sharp features, the curtain of black hair framing it all... He seemed to have grown more attractive since the last time she'd seen him.

"What does it smell like for you?" she said.

"A calm, quiet room where I am alone."

Each word had been weighed with weaponized annoyance, and the last one was worth a ton, but Harrie was now completely immune to Snape's displeasure.

"For me," she said, "it smells like treacle tart, freshly polished broomstick handles, and something fresh and cold. But that was last year. It might have changed since then."

He stopped writing, again, glared at her, again.

"You will stop talking."

"Why? What happens if it don't sto—"

Apparently the answer was that he would kiss her so suddenly that their teeth would clack together. How had he moved so fast? One second he'd been sitting down, and the next he was standing over her, his lips bruising hers. She grabbed his robes, tilted her head back obligingly, signaling her surrender.

With a hungry growl, he licked into her mouth. She made a tiny noise as heat flashed over her skin, blazing in a downward arc that concentrated in her cunt. Snape tugged the cloak off her, his hand skating down her sides while he kept kissing her. He grabbed her hips, dragging her closer to the edge of the desk, then spread her legs before his fingers ventured under her skirt.

She lifted her hips to help him drag down all the clothes that were in the way, shivered when the tip of a finger grazed her slit. She was dripping, yes, but...

"You're still sore, aren't you?" Snape said with a smirk, his black eyes gleaming.

"Yes, because someone put their monster knot into me and then fucked me for hours."

"And what a good girl you were, taking it. I think you deserve a reward."

'Reward' and 'Snape' were not words that went together, at all.

"I do?" she said, puzzled by the offer.

"Yes. Lie back and let me work."

She reclined to her elbows, allowing her back to meet the wood of the desk. She kept her head raised so she could see what Snape was doing.

"Head down," he instructed her.

"Why?"

"Because I say so."

Her core fluttered at the 'stern professor' tone. She wanted more of that. She wanted to be ordered around and then she wanted to disobey and be punished.

"What if I don't want to?" she said, giving him a challenging stare.

"As charming as your defiance is, we'll do that later. Right now I'm rewarding you, so Put. Your head. Down."

He thought her defiance was charming? Oh. Oh, it all made a lot of sense suddenly. Smiling stupidly, she laid her head down on the desk. He nudged her thighs wide apart, and moments later she felt his breath on her intimate parts. A sliver of embarrassment squirmed through her. He was looking at her cunt very closely.

"Erm, I can shave it more, if you want."

"I already told you you're perfect. Now shush. No more words. You're permitted to scream, and that's it."

Scream, why would she scream?

"Oh!" she screamed when he put his tongue there, on her cunt, hot and moving and oh!

She took a shuddering breath, tried to be logical about this. It was just his tongue on her sex, there was no reason to—

Scream. Again. (Well, it was more of a lilting warble, with only a little scream at the end.)

"Very sensitive," Snape said with a chuckle, which she felt, a stream of air hitting her cunt.

She wasn't sensitive, it was just completely overwhelming to have someone's mouth on her. Moving tongue, and moving lips, and... was that his nose, brushing against her wet flesh? She tried to focus, to think this through, to show some measure of control. She wasn't going to scream just because he happened to have a very talented mouth. And tongue. No, she could stay calm, no matter what he was doing. She could, she could.

Fuck, his mouth was so hot. And his tongue was licking her entire cunt in wide passes, each one firmer than the last, and it was a lot, yes, but she could stay silent. Or at least whimper. Not scream.

Don't scream, don't scream.

Then he swirled the tip of his tongue on her clitoris, and that battle was lost.

She abdicated, totally.

She screamed, and sobbed, and whimpered, and made all kind of noises that she didn't even have a name for. She fell apart under Snape's tongue, splintering into hot shards of ecstasy, a first time, then a second, writhing on his desk like she was under the Cruciatus curse. But it was the opposite, a curse of absolute pleasure, delivered in spades straight to her brain by Snape's mouth.

She couldn't even have described what he was doing. It felt like sloppy enthusiasm, which coming from Snape and directed at her would have already overwhelmed her, regardless of any sexual element. She thought at one point she felt the tip of this tongue probe inside her, like he wanted to fuck her with his tongue, and she had her second orgasm around that time, but apart from that it was all a blur.

Now she understood why it was called 'eating someone out'. She had found it stupid, giggling at the phrase, and there had been a couple of scenes in his books where the Alphas had performed oral sex on their Omegas, which she had read with even more skepticism than the other sex scenes. There had been sentences like 'feasting on her nectar' and 'lapping up her slick', and she had thought them ridiculous. Yet that was exactly what Snape was doing now.

He was a voracious eater, and she was his helpless snack.

Eventually, after she had come a third time, he stopped, and kissed her as she was drifting in a delirious state of bliss. She tasted herself, which really wasn't anything special. Just a strong, musky taste. Why did he like it so much?

"Why?" she mumbled, coaching her brain cells into some semblance of coherency.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to ask a more precise question, Potter." His hand brushed her cheek, his lips still so close to hers. "What's wrong? Usually you're much quicker on the draw when I wag my tongue."

She groaned at his joke.

"Your tongue is a bloody weapon," she said.

"You already knew that."

He licked at her scent gland, which sent her into a full-body shiver. She thought of his teeth there, clamping down, and her stomach clenched, an emotion she didn't understand descending upon her like a flood.

"Don't bite," she gasped.

"Never," he murmured, and she knew he meant it, knew he wouldn't do it, that he wouldn't claim her as mate, but the emotion didn't go away. It persisted in her chest, throbbing in time with her heart. She still didn't understand it, so to distract herself she groped for Snape's dick. He groaned when she massaged his clothed erection.

"Want you," she said, canting her hips up.

"Why do I always have to protect you?" he said, in a frustrated tone that seemed at odds with the situation.

"What?"

"You can't take my cock right now."

"Yeah, I can."

She bucked her hips to emphasize her point.

"No, you'd hurt yourself."

"Maybe I want to hurt myself."

Her brain must have been damaged by those orgasms, because even to herself, she wasn't making a lot of sense.

"Don't be daft," Snape said.

"Then what? You're just going to come on me?"

"Turn around."

She managed it, with some help from him. The desk wasn't very comfortable, but she could bear it a little longer, since it meant more sex. She wasn't sure what form it would take. Would he put his thumb into her arse again? Or perhaps more...

"Press your thighs together."

She did, a twitch jolting her inner flesh at the thought of his cock. He undid his trousers buttons, taking his time. She ended up whining at him.

"I gave you three orgasms and that's not enough for you?" he said, in a light taunt.

"I want my Alpha's cum," she said with another needy whine.

"Fuck," he grunted. His hands gripped her hips, pinning her in place. "You're gonna get it. I'm gonna cum all over your pretty thighs."

He thrust his cock there, between her thighs, and started a steady back and forth. Each drive forward had him sliding along her cunt, where she was dripping still and so very sensitive. His whole rigid length was rubbing against her folds, and his cockhead was bumping her clit, which had to be on purpose. She wanted to move with him, she wanted to snap her hips and make him go faster, but he wouldn't let her, his hands forcing her to stay still.

"Severus, please..."

"Yes, beg. You have such a lovely voice when you're begging."

His compliments were even more devastating than his insults. She gasped, pleasure flaring hot and tight in her belly.

"Oh, please—"

"Gorgeous girl. Keep begging and I might let you come."

"Please, Sev, please—"

She was pressing her thighs together so hard they were trembling, her voice had become a raspy whisper that was just pure desperation, her nails were scratching wood and digging lines into it, and if this went on any longer she would start sobbing, she was sure of it.

Mercifully, Snape broke first. A shudder rattled his frame, his hips stuttered, and with a guttural sound, he spent himself on a final thrust. Ropes of semen coated her inner thighs and her sex, the sensation enough to launch her into her own climax. She panted, mouth open, her whole body flushed hot, riding out the waves of pleasure until it was over.

Snape had braced a hand at her back, and for a while he didn't move, breathing harshly, his softening cock pressed between her thighs. Then he stepped away, silently taking care of cleaning while Harrie mostly lay there. She wanted to curl up in bed, but the effort required to stand up, or even to move at all, was too great.

Fingers threaded in her hair, the touch gentle.

"Did you pass out again?"

"No. Just resting."

"Hmm." The fingers headed down, massaging her scalp along the way. "Are you going to insist to stay the night again?"

"Yes. You can't throw me out like that anyway."

"Why not?"

The fingers were rubbing firm circles at the base of her neck, which felt heavenly.

"Because my legs aren't even working right now and people will ask questions when they see Harrie Potter in a boneless heap just outside your door."

"That would be terribly inconvenient. I suppose our only choice is for you to get in my bed."

She was going to agree that unfortunately, yes, she would have to sleep in his bed, what an awful ordeal for them both, when he suddenly scooped her up in his arms. A sound of startled surprise slipped past her lips. She wound her arms around his neck, looking up at him. Her tights and underwear were still halfway down her legs, so he had one hand on her bare thigh, the other curled at her back and around her shoulder, and somehow it felt more intimate than what they had just done.

His eyes were dark and unreadable as they stared at each other. She couldn't look away, didn't want to look away. Neither of them were blinking, and she thought that if she looked hard enough, maybe she'd see a glimpse of what he was truly feeling.

"If you keep looking at me like that I'll drop you," he said, with the hint of a sneer, his teeth flashing.

"No you won't."

"Don't test me, Potter."

"I hate you," she said, snuggling her head against his chest.

She wondered if she meant it, still. If all of her hate hadn't bled out while she was looking away, to be replaced by something else, something warmer, softer. Something that meant she felt safe in his arms.

He carried her to his bed, set her down gently. She burrowed under the blankets, whining that they were cold. Snape joined her, his body heat immediately solving the problem. She wriggled back against him until her back was flush with his chest and their legs were entangled, then sighed in contentment.

"Has anyone ever told you you give the best cuddles?" she said sleepily.

"No."

He sounded annoyed. Or frustrated.

"They should have," she said. "Best cuddles."

"I don't see how you could possibly be an accurate judge of said cuddles when you have no point of comparison."

"Same way I can tell the sex is brilliant."

"And there you run into the same fallacy."

She shifted a bit against him, yawned.

"So you're saying I should sleep with other people?" she said.

"No," he replied instantly, shifting as well, holding her tighter. "I'm only pointing out you're a fool."

"You've been doing that for years."

"It seems you haven't changed at all."

But he was wrong. She had changed. And he had changed, too. The normal Snape would never have suffered her presence in his bed. Or held her in his arms. Or looked at her the way he had when he was cradling her to him.

"You haven't changed either," she said, just to see what he would say.

The answer turned out to be silence. If he ever gave a response, she was asleep before she could hear it.

*

He woke her in the morning so she wouldn't be late to class. He was distant again, and she mirrored his attitude, pretending they hadn't cuddled all night. They barely exchanged a few words as she fixed her clothes and prepared to leave.

"I might not come tonight," she said casually, tugging the cloak onto her shoulders.

"Good. Never come back."

She leveled a look at him, staring into the black eyes, the blank face.

"Are you planning to lick my scent gland from afar? That would be quite a trick."

"Come back in a week, then. Exercise some willpower, Potter."

"And what about your willpower, sir?" she shot back.

"I will be fine," he said, in the tone of someone who wasn't fine even now.

"So there is no risk of you dragging me into a closet by Friday if I stay away from you? Knowing you'll see me in class anyway, and I'm assuming I smell good even when I'm not scenting."

A fierce light shone in his eyes, so sudden and ardent that she felt an answering beat of heat curling low between her legs.

"No risk at all," he said.

Was this how it was gonna be? They would lie to each other, and trust the other knew the truth? What kind of mad method of communication was that?

"I'll come back Wednesday," she said. "That's the night you're supposed to do the scent marking anyway."

And it was two days from now. Two days was fine. She could go two days, two nights, without Snape. And he'd see that he wanted her, and then... she wasn't sure what would happen. She wanted him to miss her. No, that wasn't enough. She wanted him to admit he missed her.

That's never going to happen, Harrie, you're delusional.

"Wednesday," he said, with a nod.

She left on that.

On the walk back to Gryffindor Tower, hidden under the cloak, she rubbed at her gland, remembering what had come over her last night when Snape had licked it. She had implored him not to bite, while a confusing emotion had swept her thoughts.

She knew what that emotion was now.

Fear.

Not fear that he would bite her.

Not fear of any pain, either.

And not fear that it could happen at all, that he could claim her and make her his without her consent.

No.

Fear that she would like it. Fear that she wanted it, more than she had ever wanted anything else in her life.

Fear that she belonged with Snape.

She stopped walking, buried a groan in her hands, rubbed her face like she could scrub the very thought from her mind. It wasn't that simple. And now that she understood it, that she admitted it, she knew it would reverberate into her life.

Mate, she thought a few hours later at lunch, looking at Snape.

She got a burst of that same fear, churning in her insides. It was so puzzling. She was afraid to love someone. That had never happened to her before.

As if sensing her gaze upon him, he looked up, and glared at her from across the Hall. She looked away, strangely feeling better. He hated her. He would never want to mate her. And love... love wasn't a word in his vocabulary. So it didn't really matter how she felt about him, because there would never be any reciprocation.

They could have hot sex and cuddles and awkward mornings, and that was enough for her.

It was. It was. (Was it?)

In the afternoon, she had Potions, two hours of it. She followed the instructions Snape had written on the black board as if they were coming from the Prince, and her potion turned out pretty good. Snape made no comment on it, but she didn't need his approval. (She didn't.)

She saw him in the corridors after dinner, inhaled his scent, was instantly wet. He barely looked at her, yet couldn't hide the flare of his nostrils as they passed each other. That night in her bed she made herself come thinking of him, twice.

The next day, she ran into him everywhere. In Potion class, of course, that one was inevitable, but also in the Great Hall, and in the corridors, and in the bloody library. He sneaked up from behind as she was working on her Transfiguration essay, and she only became aware of his presence when she smelled him. He said nothing as he passed by her table, merely glanced at her. Their gazes connected for a second, and a wave of heat slapped her, scalding and raw.

She nearly bolted off her chair to go after him.

He was there at dinner too. Taunting her. Alphas couldn't scent, but he was doing the equivalent of it. Being there, all attractive and... available.

Staying away was harder than anticipated. In the evening, just before curfew, her steps led her to the dungeons. She turned away before she actually reached Snape's office, swung by the kitchens, grabbed some bread rolls and started the journey back up to the seventh floor. She walked quickly, eating her bread at the same time. She didn't have a lot of time before curfew.

She had reached the fifth floor when she ran into Snape. They both sort of froze at the sight of each other, their respective staircases connecting until they formed only one. He was two steps above her, looming there ominously.

"Potter," he said with no particular inflection.

"Professor."

"Five points from Gryffindor for trailing bread crumbs all over the castle."

She'd been very careful not to drop any crumbs, going so far as to cast a small cleanliness charm. Rather than point this out, she took a bite out of her bread roll, letting her tongue flick out of her mouth for the briefest second while maintaining eye contact. Snape made a very small sound that she guessed was a contained growl.

"And five points for eating like a pig," he said, rather looking like he wanted to murder her (possibly with his dick).

"I don't think that's fair, sir. I'm eating very carefully."

She gave him another flash of her tongue as she took a smaller bite.

"Another five points for talking back. Please do go on, Potter. I'd be delighted to take more points from Gryffindor and secure Slytherin's lead further."

She said nothing, stuffing her mouth with bread, letting her eyes talk for her. (And her eyes said, I'd rather my mouth was full of your cock.)

"Hurry up to your common room, Potter. Curfew starts in ten minutes."

That was what his mouth said. His eyes were saying an entirely different thing, more along the lines of Come with me to my quarters so I can fuck you into my bed.

"Yes, sir," she said, and she moved past him, letting her robes brush his.

She heard him emit another strangled growl, which didn't help the state of her knickers. A little shiver blossomed at the base of her neck, and she knew he had looked back at her. She hurried up the stairs, wishing he would chase her. That he'd run after her, pin her to the ground, and take her right there.

That was the fantasy she used later in her bed, with her hand between her thighs. Snape catching her, and forcing her down, and maybe she was struggling a little, telling him that he shouldn't, that they could be seen, and he was replying that he didn't care, that he needed her now, and then he was spreading her legs and thrusting in, and Harrie came right about then.

She whimpered into her pillow, moving her hips in shallow pumps.

"You can't even control yourself, can you?" the imaginary Snape was growling in her ear. "Coming as soon as my cock is in. Shameful."

She keened from renewed pleasure, a second orgasm building into the aftershocks of the first, her fingers swirling on her extra-sensitive clit.

"I'm not gonna last long either," Snape was saying between grunts. "I'm gonna come inside you."

She groaned, her thighs shaking, her hand cramping, and with one last moan she tumbled over the edge of a second climax, picturing Snape spilling deep inside her just as his teeth clamped down on her scent gland. It was intense, and brutal, and the best orgasm she had ever given herself.

Afterwards, she lay unmoving for ten minutes, her face pressed into her pillow. Her scent gland was tingling. She couldn't ignore the fantasy she had used to make herself come, and she couldn't ignore either that she wanted it to be more than a fantasy.

"It's all a bloody mess," she complained to her pillow, who, being a pillow, had no answer for her.

She woke the next day with a thrill of excitement in her belly. It was Wednesday, which meant she would see Snape tonight, and they would have sex. Her morning classes dragged on like never before, as she sat there listening to her professors and trying not to think about Snape. (She mostly failed, especially in History of Magic, where she couldn't summon the slightest iota of interest for the rise and fall of the second goblin empire.)

She didn't have Potions on Wednesdays, which was just as well, because she would have done something stupid like scent in his classroom or lick the potions ingredients. She did have Quidditch, a smaller mid-week training session, and she used it to burn off some of her energy.

She had completely forgotten about the bite mark on her shoulder until Ginny asked about it as they were changing back into their robes.

"It's not what it looks like," she said.

"Really?" Ginny said with a pointed smile. "Because it looks like someone got a little too excited while they were making you feel really good."

Harrie knew she was blushing, and knew Ginny would read right through her no matter what she said.

"Okay, maybe," she admitted.

"Does that someone happen to be Draco Malfoy?" Ginny said.

There, Harrie was struck mute. Her mouth opened, and closed, and opened again, and nothing was coming out.

"It's him, isn't it?" Ginny said, giggling. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Why... why would you think it's Malfoy?" Harrie finally managed to say.

"You two look like you would have epic hate sex."

"Hate sex," Harrie repeated, like Ginny was speaking a foreign language.

"Come on Harrie, there's no need to be coy. I know you see me as your little sister, but we're only one year apart. I'm an adult! And I've seen the way Draco looks at you."

"With hate. Because he hates me."

"A lot," Ginny said with a smirk, nodding at the bite mark.

Harrie blushed again, didn't say anything more. In a week, there'd probably be a rumor that her and Malfoy were secretly having sex, and it was fine. She would deny it, Malfoy would deny it, and that would be all.

Her discussion with Ginny did however leave her wondering if her and Snape were having hate sex. He had been very rough that first time, and she had thought that he was fucking her like he hated her. So maybe at first, yes. But it didn't feel like it now. It wasn't love sex either. It was just sex.

And she was about to get more of it.

"Don't forget you have your thing this evening," Hermione said to her at about seven thirty.

"I'm not going to forget."

"You forgot about the sleeping potion."

"Yeah, but... this is different. And even if I forgot, Snape wouldn't."

Hermione frowned.

"You mean he'd come fetch you?' she said.

She pictured it instantly, Snape standing before the Fat Lady and telling the portrait he needed to see Harrie Potter. Would he? Or would he assume she'd show up later, after curfew, to make things more exciting? Probably that, yes.

And what if she didn't went at all? No, she had to, if only for her heat-suppressant potion. She couldn't afford to gamble with that.

"I'm not sure," she said to Hermione.

"If he did, I can't imagine he'd be anything but pissed off. You don't want that."

Oh, Hermione, you have no idea just how much I want that.

"Yeah," she said, contorting her face in annoyance. "He already yells enough at me in class."

Getting him angry would be fun, but in the end, she had promised him she'd be there Wednesday, and she wanted to make good on that promise, so at eight o'clock, she knocked at his door, waited for his answer.

"Yes, Potter, come in."

She closed the door behind her. Snape waved his wand, locking the door as well, and casting a bunch of privacy charms. Her stomach did a little swooping dive at the thought of being locked in with him, even if he wasn't looking at her in a lustful manner.

"I was expecting you to be late," he said, getting up from his desk. "Or to not come at all."

"I thought about it, and then decided I want you to know you can trust me."

He made a soft, disbelieving noise.

"You can," she insisted. "Isn't there trust between us?"

"To some degree," he agreed, stalking closer. "We're also both keeping secrets, like you said."

What secrets was he keeping from her? Suddenly she was intensely curious.

"Shall we trade?" she offered. "I'll tell you one of mine, and you tell me one of yours."

"No."

"Why not?" she said, a bit vexed by how categorical that 'no' had been.

"My secrets aren't for trading, Potter. I'd make a pretty poor spy otherwise." He handed her a potion with a fluid gesture of his arm. "This, first."

"But I wouldn't tell anyone," she said, drinking the offered potion diligently.

"It's not about telling, it's about knowing."

He came closer, removed the scarf she was wearing since she hadn't come under the cloak this time, and started prodding at her scent gland.

"Does it feel normal?" he asked.

"I think so. Why?"

"You missed a dose last week, then took a double one. Any tingling at all?"

"It did tingle a bit... last night. Are you saying I might go into heat? I thought the double dose was enough to prevent it?"

He had said it would be fine. Had that been a lie after all?

"There is still a risk," he said, rubbing his thumb against her gland. "The potion isn't perfect, even when taken correctly. It's a low percentage of failure, so I'm simply being thorough. Were you doing anything in particular when you felt it tingle?"

"Yes, I was masturbating," she said, looking him straight in the eye.

"Imagining that I was licking your gland?"

His voice had turned smoky, with that raspy edge that was just pure sex.

"Not exactly," she replied.

He got her meaning, because his jaw tensed slightly.

"Your Omega hormones are lying to you," he said, removing his hand from her neck. "They're telling you you need an Alpha to feel complete, but that's not true. Not all Omegas have an Alpha, and among those who do, not all of them are mated."

"My hormones are telling me we should have sex right now. Are they wrong? Because if they are, I'll just walk out the door and—"

His lips were on hers before she could finish that sentence. It seemed to be his new tactic now. Shutting her up with his mouth.

They kissed aggressively, attacking each other's clothing at the same time, hands roaming on skin, nails digging in, hips slotting together in a search for heat and friction. Harrie's back was to the wall, and she was grinding against Snape, one hand in his hair while the other was undoing his frock coat buttons. He was growling into her mouth, something about her being an insolent brat, and he had one hand kneading her arse and the other on one of her breasts.

"I want to try it," she said between two hard kisses.

"Try what?"

"I pretend I want to leave and you force me to stay."

"That's something that needs to be discussed at length," he groaned with a nip at her jaw.

"So let's discuss it."

He drew back, setting his hands on her shoulders.

"With a clear head," he said.

She held out her hands, smiled at him.

"My head's clear, Professor."

"Are you sure that's what you want? You've thought about this? This is more than a Gryffindor idea?"

"Define a 'Gryffindor idea'."

"Something that appeals to you in the moment, with not a single brain cell dedicated to examining the consequences of that idea," he said, smirking a bit.

"Hey... okay, that's accurate. But that's not the case right now. I really thought about it. And I want to try it, because it turns me on a lot. Plus, you know how to do it correctly. Safely?"

He nodded.

"Unless you don't want to do it," she added, realizing she hadn't even considering Snape's feelings on the matter. "In which case I understand, and we'll just fuck normally."

"Oh, I want to. More than you can imagine."

"Really?" she said, surprised by the intensity of the declaration, matched by the hunger in his gaze.

"Yes," he simply said. It was one very loaded word, and Harrie got shivers from it.

He stepped away from her, buttoned up his coat, motioned for her to follow. She fixed her sweater, went into the bedroom with him. She sat on the bed while he stayed standing.

"We have to decide what can happen and what cannot happen," he said, giving her a look that was all business. "You say you want me to force you to stay. How rough can I get?"

"Um. Very?"

"I need clear, firm answers, Potter," he chided. "Else we're not doing this at all."

"You can get very rough. You can grab me, force me down, restrain me."

Merely talking about it had her nerves sparking with excitement, heat pooling between her legs.

"Tie you up?" Snape said.

"Fuck yes."

"Can I slap you?"

She thought she'd been ready for that discussion, but the question still made her startle.

"Slap me? You mean... my face?"

"Yes. I'm asking if I can. If you're even slightly uncomfortable with the idea, you have to tell me no. Now is not the time to push your boundaries."

She fidgeted, hands going to her hair and playing with it.

"I don't think I want that," she admitted.

"Good," Snape said.

"It doesn't bother you that I said no?"

"Of course not," he replied with a scoff. "We're communicating clearly, which is the only way it can work. I'm happy you said no."

She grinned.

"I think I get it," she said, shifting to get more comfortable on his bed.

"Merlin be praised," he said, dryly. "Can I spank you?"

"Like you need to ask about that? Yes, you can spank me. Please spank me. I will be so disappointed if you don't."

"Can I bite you?"

"Yes," she said, thinking about what Ginny would imagine if she showed up covered in bite marks.

"Can I penetrate you without any preparation?"

Her cunt clenched, a lick of fire burning her deep.

"I'll be so slick you won't need any anyway," she said, biting her lips.

He could have done it now. She was ready for him. In fact, her legs were spread invitingly, and Snape's eyes lingered at the apex of her thighs. From this angle, he could see under her skirt.

"What about your arse?" he said, his gaze traveling up to her face.

"You can put one finger in there. No more. And using that spell for lubrication."

"Noted," he said. "Is there anything in particular you don't want me to do?"

"Don't knot me," she said after a moment of hesitation. "That would be too much, and I want to be able to properly struggle."

"Lo and behold, she can be reasonable. Anything that on the contrary, you want me to do?"

That question opened up a whole field of possibilities. There were so many answers. She picked something she knew she'd enjoy.

"I want you to act like I'm barely adequate, but secretly you're very satisfied to be fucking me."

"That won't require much acting," he said, with an appreciative look at her legs.

Harrie counted that as a compliment. She was restless now, her fingers twitching with need.

"What about you?" she said. "Is there something you want me to do?"

"No."

"Nothing? You can ask for something, I'll be happy to do it."

His lips quirked up in a faint smirk. He was still looking at her legs.

"Rest assured I will enjoy myself immensely, Potter. Now, about the safeword..."

"The what?"

He showed no annoyance at her confused question, which was very unusual for Snape.

"The safeword," he repeated. "You're going to tell me to stop and I'll ignore that, so we need a word that communicates you really want it to stop. If it becomes too much for you, if you start to feel unsure or uncomfortable, you then say the word, and I will immediately stop whatever I'm doing."

Hearing it out loud made it real in a way it hadn't been before. She would be telling him to stop. And he wouldn't stop. Maybe she'd beg, too. And he wouldn't stop. Oh God, she was going to die from a lust overdose. She'd come the moment he would get inside her, just like in her fantasy. Or possibly before.

"Okay," she said. "What is it, then?"

"Something you would never say otherwise in this context, and which can be easily understood."

"Syndercombe?"

"...yes, that would work," he said after a pause. "Very well, we'll go with Syndercombe. And if you can't talk, you tap me on the shoulder three times, quickly. Or on the thigh. Wherever you can reach."

"Okay."

"Don't hesitate to use your safeword, Potter. Doing so is not a failing, and I won't be angry or disappointed if you do. I will, however, be very disappointed if you ignore your own emotional well-being to cater to my pleasure. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I think that's all."

He cocked his head at her, a predatory spark in his eyes.

"We will start once your glasses are on my bedside table," he said. "Whenever you're ready."

They were really doing this. Her fantasy, come to life. Licking her lips, pulse racing, she removed her glasses. The world became blurry, and she mentally lamented that she could no longer see the details of Snape's expression. He'd have to come closer. Much closer.

She turned, and deposited her glasses on the bedside table. Then she looked back at Snape.

"I've changed my mind," she said. "I don't want to have sex tonight."

He clicked his tongue.

"I'm afraid you misunderstood, Potter. I never said you'd have a choice."

She swallowed back a mewl at that fucking voice, that low sinful purr that sent a jolt of electricity straight down to her core.

"You won't catch me," she said.

She bolted off the bed, ran for the door. She had barely made it two steps when a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, slamming her back into a hard chest. Snape grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking hard.

"Was that supposed to be a challenge?" he hissed in her ear. "Are you even trying?"

She growled, struggling, thrashing. He caught her wrists, both of them, forced them together at the small of her back, and pushed her forward two more steps until they had reached the wall. He pressed her there, then pressed against her, body to body, his fingers tight around her wrists, his other hand holding her hair fast.

"I'm waiting for you to run," he said, in a dark, mocking tone.

She bucked, panting, straining her muscles and feeling Snape's strength in return. He was pushing her hard into the wall, using his weight, his hands like iron where they held her. She couldn't get away, and she couldn't stop him. Arousal burned hot and thick in her system, a tidal wave of it.

"Or do you want to get fucked against the wall?" Snape drawled.

"No! No, stop, let me go!"

She wriggled ineffectively, holding back any noises that would betray how much she was enjoying this. Then she squealed as he slapped her arse. It was through her clothes, but she still felt the impact of that slap so vividly her toes curled, her thighs shaking.

"No, you're right," he said, squeezing her arse like he owned it. "You're not good enough for a wall fuck."

He hauled her off her feet, heedless of her kicking, carried her through half the room and threw her on his bed. She landed lightly, used as she was to being thrown around, rolled with the momentum, and righted herself with a jerk of her hips. Snape was there, almost upon her already. Reflexively, she kicked at him, aiming her heel at his chest, then realized they hadn't discussed her hitting him at all.

He dodged, throwing himself to the side, grabbed her leg and pulled her to him. Twisting her body, she shifted to a half crouch, kicking her legs behind her, grabbing the side of the bed to try and gain some leverage. Snape pulled on her leg again, jerking her back toward him. This time she landed half in his lap, and for a second the pressure of his thigh between her legs was so good she moaned.

He laughed. She drove her elbow into his chest and sprang away. He caught her again, wrestled her to the bed. She fought him, exhilaration singing in every cell, her cunt so hot she knew she was dripping slick into her tights, having drenched her knickers.

She fought him, and she lost. It wasn't even a contest. (And it was better, hotter, meant she was so thoroughly dominated she didn't have a chance.)

Snape seemed to have decided he wanted her naked, began yanking off her clothes, with brutal efficiency. Her skirt went first, followed by her tights. He pulled off her robes next, then her shirt and her sweater. She was left in her underwear, and all this time he kept her close, half pinned to the bed. At some point in the struggle he even spanked her, and she had no idea how he managed it.

It was like he was everywhere all at once, like he already knew what she was going to do. Was this part of his Death Eater training? Did they have fist fights? That didn't match what she knew of Voldemort, how much he valued magic over brute force.

She gasped as he spanked her again, a quick swat upon the meat of her arse, over her knickers.

"Stop!"

"You didn't even say please. Appalling manners, Potter."

He gave her another slap, harder. She whimpered, hips jerking forward, looking for friction, for the slightest amount of physical stimulation. If she put a hand between her thighs right now, she would come in seconds. She felt so sensitive, so ready for anything else Snape would do.

"Are you going to say please?" he asked.

"No," she growled.

He spanked her again, then pulled down her knickers. She moaned at the contact of his fingers brushing against her inner thighs, bucked in protest. He set a knee down at the small of her back to keep her still while he got her bra off. He had trouble with it, which almost made her laugh. She had deliberately chosen her prettiest bra, but it had a complex clasp at the back, one she had used magic to get to close properly.

Snape growled something under his breath, fingers fumbling at her back, and ended up yanking the whole bra over her head. While he had one hand busy with that, she pushed on her arms and legs, made another attempt at escape.

It failed, like all the previous ones.

Snape grabbed her, rolled her on her back, settled on top of her, his legs blocking hers, leaning down close. For the first time since they had started, she got a good look at his face. He was grinning, features pulled taut, his dark eyes gleaming wickedly.

He looked delighted.

Dangerous.

Feral.

And pinned beneath him, naked, she truly felt like prey.

"You have so much to learn," he said, tracing a gentle finger along her jaw. "Why am I wasting my time with you?"

"Fuck you!"

She bucked savagely, snarling, her teeth bared. He chuckled, his fingers clamping down on her chin, pushing her head back into the bed.

"Fuck you, Potter? I suppose I could be tempted, yes..."

He let his gaze trail down her body, and it was his judging, assessing stare, the one he used in class before he pointed out all the flaws in a student's potion. Harrie shivered, feeling like he was seeing all of her, even the secrets she kept hidden.

"Yes," Snape said, pursing his lips. "You'll do, won't you?"

He swirled his thumb on her nipple, his nail worrying at the sensitive little nub, every brush finding a fiery echo between her legs. For a moment, as he kept focusing on that nipple and she writhed weakly under him, he seemed transfixed, his face almost reverent. Harrie wondered if he would suck on her breasts, and forget about the role he was supposed to be playing. She was also teetering on that edge, with a part of her that wanted to spread her legs and just let him have her.

The moment broke, Snape's gaze sharpening suddenly. He slid his thumb lower, to the dip of her navel, then delivered a slap to her thigh.

"Spread them. Let's see what else you have to offer."

"Fuck you."

"I'm trying, Potter. You know how this works, don't you? Your legs should be open so I can slide my cock into your cunt."

"No!" she groaned, certain she was going to come if he kept saying things like that.

"Why do you always have to be so difficult?"

Ah! That should have been her line.

"Let me go," she breathed, redoubling her squirming.

Her right thigh rubbed against his cock trapped in his trousers. She couldn't suppress a whine at how hard it felt. She wanted it so fucking much. There was a burning, aching void inside her, ready to be filled. Snape emitted a groan when she did it again, pressing herself against his erection, teasing him on purpose.

"You'll be allowed to leave once I've gotten what I want," he said.

He thwacked her on the outside of her thigh, and while she reeled from the blow, her cunt spasming, the pain barely registering through all the adrenaline, he pried her legs apart. One finger prodded at her entrance. She gasped in a sharp exhale, tried to jerk her hips away.

"Stop..."

That one sounded pretty unconvincing.

"All that protest," Snape said, "and it turns out you're dripping wet for me."

"No..."

He inserted the barest tip of a finger in her. Her muscles flexed, both the ones of her cunt and the ones in her thighs, and a rough shudder made its way down from the top of her head to the pit of her stomach.

"What a pretty little cunt. All ready for my thick cock."

She stifled a whine, closing her eyes for a moment, panting with unchained desire. Her body was on fire, everything thrumming and buzzing, with need, with want, with sheer desperation. It was a bit like being drunk (which she had experienced twice), but on a cocktail of her own emotions. Or maybe more like being drugged, only the only drug here was Snape.

Could she overdose on Snape? Oh, that was what the safeword was for. She didn't think she would use it, but it was reassuring to have that safety.

When she opened her eyes, he was undoing the buttons of his trousers. She watched him pull out his cock, aware that she could have struggled right then, perhaps should have, but she was too mesmerized by the sight of Snape's erection to move. It looked almost angry, all flushed red, and so very big, God. No wonder she felt stretched every time.

"Are you ready, Potter?" Snape purred, fisting his cock slowly while looking down at her like she was his favorite snack.

From his tone, and that dark gaze, she knew he wanted something else than mindless struggling. He wanted...

"Please. Please, no."

Three little words, whimpered around her hitching breath while she held still under his heavy-lidded stare.

"No?" he murmured, smiling in a manner she had never seen before, dark and wicked, and perhaps it wasn't a smile at all. Perhaps it was the tiger baring his fangs before he swallowed his prey whole.

He let his stiff, heavy cock drag against her stomach, the head weeping pre-cum on her skin. Her abdomen twitched. Her cunt was clenching needily, and she was breathing in audible pants, so much tension coiled in her body she was shaking from it.

"No, please..."

"I told you. You don't get a choice."

She began to draw away, her arms straining under her, but he was on her in half a second, his hands gripping her wrists and forcing them on either side of her head as he leaned down. He was still fully dressed, and the wool of his frock coat felt wonderful against her bare skin. She wanted to rub herself against it for hours (or maybe until she came, which would have happened in seconds).

He put more weight on her, pressing his erection against her belly.

"You got me in this state, Potter. Can you feel it?"

She whined in answer, her hips rolling, getting little jolts of pleasure that were already so good she was going to go mad once he would thrust in.

"Please, don't... You can't, it won't fit..."

"I'll make it fit," he promised, his eyes burning black, his gaze holding her captive as much as his body. "Now be a good little Omega and take your Alpha's cock."

He shifted his hips and sank inside her, in one smooth glide, her body offering no resistance. She threw her head back, muscles bunching, mouth opening in a shocked gasp.

"Oh God, oh f—"

And she was coming. From the sudden fullness, from the thickness of him, from the extended foreplay that had primed her every nerve. She was coming, a powerful, sudden orgasm that jarred loose a string of whimpers as well as a fresh rush of slick.

"Uh..." she said, flattened by the explosion of pleasure and its glowing remnants. "Uh, uh..."

"Is it really that easy to make you come? Do I just have to stick my cock in you? Or are you that desperate, Potter?"

"Uh..."

Shards of bliss were pulsing under her skin, her cunt fluttering madly. She blinked, focusing on Snape's eyes as her thoughts trickled back in her mind, one by one.

"No," she said in a ragged groan.

"Let's see if I can make you come again," Snape said.

He moved.

He had been holding still inside her, and now he moved, withdrawing then pushing back in, and she whimpered anew, pleasure instantly flaring up. Her spine arched, her body bowing into his, her legs spreading wider, making more room for him. He pumped into her at a steady pace, his cock searing into her core on each thrust. She was so very full, and pinned down beneath him, and it was heaven.

It was perhaps a minute or two later that she remembered she was supposed to be fighting him. Groaning weakly, she tugged on her arms, attempting to free her hands. His fingers were wrapped around her wrists, and it quickly became clear she couldn't do anything about that. Her efforts made him smile, a sort of cruel grin that got her to whine.

"Are you still trying to escape? It sounds as if you're enjoying having my cock inside you."

She bucked under him, growling in his face.

"Stop..."

He responded with a vicious thrust, one that actually made her scream, the rough friction jolting her with delight.

"I'm not going to stop," he rasped, his own breathing getting harsher. "But do keep pleading."

Another thrust, this one long and hard, his balls slapping against her folds when he bottomed out.

"Usually I don't care for your voice, Potter, but when you beg, it's... tolerable."

"Stop," she whimpered again.

He didn't. He was fucking her and she couldn't stop him. She squirmed and writhed, a sharp lance of pleasure stabbing her every time their hips met. He was so large. She was taking him all, the whole length of his cock rubbing her walls, the ecstasy forcing sobs from her lips.

"Stop, stop, stop..."

"You're going to come again," he whispered in her ear.

He switched from thrusting to grinding, and suddenly there was blinding pressure on her clit. The fierce sensation caused the coiling tension in her cunt to contract, once, twice, and on the third time her vision burst with white light, heat burning through her. This time, her whole body seized. She heard herself produce a wailing whine, followed by a little mewl as Snape kept grinding into her. The shockwaves of her orgasm cascaded outward, and she trembled, until the best of it had passed.

Then there was more pleasure, skewering the softest part of her. Snape was so heavy, his breath wafting over her ear, his face pressed close, his hips working against her in slow motions. She flexed her hands, wishing she could touch him, run her fingers through his hair.

"Severus," she said.

He grunted in answer.

"You're not stopping," she murmured.

Everything felt soaked in a pleasurable warm daze, while her cunt throbbed with something hotter.

"Is there something you have to say?" Snape said, his voice strained, retaining an edge of control.

"Severus, ah—please."

"My name is not the safeword."

He straightened up, looking her in the eyes, and let go of one of her wrists to catch her chin. She blinked at him. His forehead was crinkled in focus, his nostrils flaring on each breath he took. He looked a bit wild, and more attractive than ever.

Kiss me, she wanted to say.

"Do you remember your safeword?" he asked, his thumb stroking her jaw.

"Yes."

"Do you want to use it?"

"No," she replied. She wriggled under him, groaned. "No, I want you to let me go."

His eyes flashed. Abruptly, he pulled out of her, then turned her over on her belly. She struggled, but after two orgasms it was half-hearted at best. He pushed back inside her, catching her wrists again and pinning them above her head.

"I'm not letting you go. I've got you right where I want you."

He rammed his cock inside her in a deep stroke.

"In my bed."

She squealed at his next thrust, his cock cleaving her in two.

"Beneath me."

There was a lewd slap as his hips pumped, flesh meeting flesh wetly, and she felt his knot bump against her. She knew he wouldn't push it in, but the simple feel of it stirred her excitement.

"Taking my cock," he groaned, rocking faster inside her. "You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to chain you to my bed. Keep you here for days, and use your little cunt whenever I want. I'll keep you full of my cum, and I'll make you come so much you won't even be able to remember your own name."

Oh, God. She knew he didn't meant it, that this was just talk, yet she found herself wondering if they could make it happen. The winter holidays were approaching, would anyone really notice if she spent her days in Snape's bedroom?

"You want that, don't you, you filthy girl?" Snape said.

"No."

His hand met her arse with a sharp crack. The blow wasn't hard, but it was completely unexpected, and Harrie yelped, her thighs tensing as she spasmed around his cock, dribbling fresh slick all over it.

"Don't you?" Snape said, leaving his hand on her arse.

"No!"

He spanked her again, and she whimpered. He shoved deep, and she whined. He told her she was his, and she denied it, and she loved it all so much it felt like a dream.

He fucked her more while she lay limp under him. He muttered filthy words as he used her, and she made pitiful noises, telling him no, that she didn't want it, that he had to stop. He replied he wouldn't stop, that she was his, forever. She said 'never', and then she didn't really have enough breath to talk, so she just listened to him, hoping that at some point he'd tell her he loved her.

There was an orgasm somewhere in there, and she jerked from the radiant pleasure, her cunt gripping his cock. He still hadn't come, she realized when she blinked her eyes open, her face lying in a wet spot. Did he need something in particular? It was so hard to think.

"Sev..." she said, instinctively. "Sev, please..."

"Yes," he snarled. "Harrie, yes."

Along with the brutal thrusts that jolted her, she felt his thumb slide against her other hole. He didn't do anything for a couple of moments, simply touching her there. Either he was casting the lubricant spell, or he was giving her time to use her safeword. She didn't want to use it.

She wanted everything he could give her.

His thumb slipped in, the sensation hot and forbidden. She mewled, one big spasm wrecking her lower half. His echoing groan was so guttural she felt it in her bones. He moved slowly inside her, pumping his thumb in her arse at the same time. She was drooling again, the molten heat and the added pressure rushing to her head.

It was a lot. She fought the orgasm. It felt like it would wipe her out, and she wanted to stay conscious, didn't want this to end.

"Give me one more," Snape growled. "One more, that's all."

"No," she said, focusing on something else, the weight of her tongue in her mouth, Snape's hand squeezing her wrists, anything else other than the sublime friction between her legs. "No, no..."

"Yes. You're mine, and you'll submit. Now come."

It was cheating, that voice, and the way he ground his cock inside her, hitting her pulsing, throbbing spot precisely. She couldn't hold back any longer. With a feeble whimper, she was submerged by a flood of ecstasy, and she surrendered to it, closing her eyes, as she clung to consciousness with all her strength.

She was aware of the harshness of her breath, of her hips which twitched relentlessly, of liquid, perfect, perfect bliss. Then she was on her back, and Snape's heat was at her front, and he wasn't inside her anymore.

"Eyes open, Harrie."

She obeyed without thinking. He was kneeling between her spread legs, stroking himself in quick, urgent motions.

"Please," she said.

It wasn't a please no, it was a please yes, but they were at the end anyway, and maybe Snape was so close to the edge all he needed was please, regardless of intent.

"Please," she said again, looking him in the eyes.

He made an inhuman noise, shuddered, coming in thick pulses over her, marking her stomach and her breasts with his spend. He came and came, his hand working feverishly on his throbbing cock, until her sweaty skin glistened white from it all. The last rope of semen hit her face, landing across her lips. She licked it by reflex. Snape growled something, then half-collapsed on her. She let her head fall back to the bed, heaved a great sigh.

And laughed, so happy. The memory of this moment could have produced a Patronus for sure. She laughed, laughed, but then, without understanding why or how, she was crying, her eyes stinging with tears, her chest shaking from the sobs.

Snape made a soothing noise, caressed her forehead with one hand.

"Shh, you're all right. You did very well. You're all right, no one will hurt you."

She sobbed harder, even as she was trying to get it under control.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying," she said. "It was really great, I loved it, I don't know why I'm crying..."

"It's normal," Snape said, giving her a reassuring smile, stroking her hair. "It was a lot of emotions, and now they're coming out. You're fine, you're safe."

"I'm fine," she agreed, but still she was crying.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"No!"

She grabbed his arm so he wouldn't leave her, tugged him closer.

"I won't," he said. "I'll stay with you for as long as you need."

He held her, running his hand through her hair, massaging her scalp. She had never told him how much she liked it when he touched her hair, but he seemed to know anyway. After a few minutes, her sobs quieted, and the strange messy tangle of emotions in her chest seemed to melt. Snape asked if she wanted some water and she said yes, asked if he could clean her and she said yes.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked after he had helped her drink and had vanished all their bodily fluids.

"Better."

She even felt a bit angry at herself for crying in front of him. Surely he hadn't wanted to see that.

"There's no reason to feel guilty about it, Potter. It's a common reaction after a scene."

"Is it, really?"

"Yes," he said, draping a blanket that smelled like him over her shoulders. "Especially with Omegas."

She frowned. The book hadn't mentioned anything about that, but then it hadn't talked about pretending to not want your Alpha either.

"So you expected me to cry?" she said.

"I expected some sort of breakdown, and I was ready to provide aftercare."

"Oh, is that what it's called? What you're doing?"

"Yes."

She looked at him with a mischievous smile.

"I wouldn't mind aftercare even when I'm not crying."

He didn't reply. She snuggled up against him, resting her back against his chest, taking one of his arm and putting across her waist. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing in sync.

"It was even better than what I imagined," she said softly.

"Hmm."

She thought that might have been a "for me as well", but she needed more practice before being able to decipher all of Snape's mysterious noises.

"Did you mean to hit my lips with your cum?" she asked.

"No." He shifted against her, holding her tighter. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Too late," she said, her lips stretching in a happy smile.

"Too late," he agreed.

It might have been a result of his recent orgasm, but she thought he sounded almost happy, too.

Chapter Text

She was running.

Through the dark forest, her feet sinking into the snow, she was running. Her breath was a rapid staccato, panic a bright, sickening feel in her chest. She wasn't going fast enough, and they were gaining on her.

She could hear them behind her, their jeers, their laughs, the cackles of a high, feminine voice.

"Run, girly Potter, run!"

She ran, but it wasn't enough.

Soon there were robed, masked silhouettes all around her, closing in on her. She was trapped in a ever shrinking circle, wands pointed at her.

There was no way out.

"Looks like we caught you, little girl," came the voice of Bellatrix from one of the closest figure. "Caught you, caught you."

Ugly, cruel laughter rippled around her. She turned, and turned, but everywhere she saw robed figures, their metal masks glinting in the moonlight.

"He's coming, Potter," Bellatrix said. "He's coming for you, and he's gonna claim you, little Omega."

"No," she said, her fists clenching. "No, he can't. I already have an Alpha."

"Do you? What do you say, Snape?"

The robed figure next to Bellatrix stepped forward, removed his mask, and it was Snape. He looked upon her coldly, with an indifference that scrapped Harrie's heart raw.

"You don't have an Alpha, Potter," he said. "My claim was fake. Nothing between us was ever real."

"You're lying."

"I am not. It was fake, all of it. Everything I said, everything I did."

"Fake!" Bellatrix cackled.

"I never wanted you," Snape said.

"You're lying," Harrie said.

She said it again and again, and then she woke with those words on her lips.

She wasn't in a forest.

She was in a bed, and there was someone in there with her, someone holding her, someone trapping her. She jerked away, half-sitting up, her mouth dry and her heart pounding. There was a male groan behind her. She took a slow breath, let it out quickly.

"Snape," she said.

"I'm here."

His tone was neutral, close to the indifferent one of her dream. She huffed, let herself fall back against him, nestling her head against his shoulder.

"I had a nightmare," she said.

"I gathered."

He wrapped one arm around her, did nothing else. She wanted his hand carding through her hair again. She wanted soft kisses and words of reassurance. But she also didn't want to ask for it.

"Tell me I can trust you," she said instead.

"You can."

"Tell me you're not going to betray me."

He made an annoyed noise that seemed to get halfway stuck in his throat.

"I have dedicated nearly half of my life to protecting you. Do you truly think I'll throw all of that away at the last moment?"

"I don't know. You're a very good liar."

"Was that what your nightmare was about?" he murmured.

"Yes."

"It was just a nightmare, Potter."

His voice had softened, taking on a fond edge. She knew that was all the reassuring she was going to get.

"Do you have nightmares?" she said.

"Sometimes."

"What are they about?"

"All the wrong choices I made," he said, bitterness clinging to every word.

She tried not to ask her question, but it came out anyway.

"Was becoming my Alpha one of those wrong choices?"

"Yes."

It hurt a bit. Okay, more than a bit.

"You could have lied," she mumbled.

"You deserve the truth. And... and you should also know it's the only wrong choice I don't regret."

"Oh," she said, at a loss on how to answer that.

'Thank you' seemed stupid, 'I love you' too bold, 'Good to know' smart but too cocky.

"I don't regret it either," she said.

They didn't talk for a while. As she was starting to fall back to sleep, Snape asked if she wanted to take the potion to sleep well.

"Just promise you won't leave," she replied.

"I promise."

She slept soundly, and had no more nightmares.

*

She was roused by a soft touch on her shoulder and a voice saying her name. Groaning, she turned around, laid her head against Snape's chest. He was so warm, and this time he had stayed in bed with her.

"Time?" she said, yawning.

"Six thirty."

She grumbled into his pyjamas.

"Why are you waking me this early?"

"I thought you might want to talk about last night."

She opened her eyes, looked up at him. His face was serious, and he seemed... tired, perhaps. Weary, with little crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"What is there to say besides 'yes, more'?"

He snorted.

"You keep surprising me," he said. "I'm waiting for the moment you realize what a mistake this is and you run off screaming, and it doesn't come."

He was afraid she was going to leave? When half the time he was acting like he didn't care about her?

"That's ridiculous," she said. "If someone's gonna run away, it's gonna be you."

"I have always protected you. I don't plan to stop."

The promise filled her chest with warmth. She wriggled until she was lying on top of him, then wriggled some more. Snape's body was very quick to react to her movements.

"You know, I don't think you woke me to talk," she said, smiling at the feeling of his hardening member.

"I did. Of course, if you'd rather do something else, who I am to disagree?"

She rubbed herself against him in slow, lazy rolls of her hips. She was only wearing her knickers, and the soft fabric of his pyjamas felt nice against her skin. Arousal gathered quickly in her core, and soon simply rubbing wasn't enough. She needed to see him, she needed to feel him.

She drew back the blanket, sat properly on him, and got his cock out. Snape groaned when she wrapped her hand around him and stroked him. She wasn't being particularly gentle, but it seemed his cock didn't object to a bit of rough treatment.

Snape was looking at her, without making any move to take control. Maybe he was letting her take charge after being in total control last night. Or maybe he was a lazy bastard and intended for her to do all the work. Harrie didn't care. She wanted to ride him, so she would.

Lifting her hips, she pulled off her knickers, then notched the tip of Snape's cock at her entrance. She lowered herself down on it, enjoying the stretch. She hadn't even checked if she was ready to take him. She knew she was.

"Fuck, that's good," she moaned as her arse met his thighs.

Snape rumbled appreciatively.

"Ever slept with a Quidditch player?" she asked him.

"No."

"We're the best at riding. All those exercises for core strength."

"Perhaps you should stop talking and show me, Potter," he said, impatience glinting in his eyes.

"Call me Harrie when you're inside me."

She braced a hand on his chest, began moving. She found a rhythm, lifting up, coming down again, impaling herself on him. His shaft filled her so perfectly, and in this position she could dictate depth as well as pacing. She experimented, leaning back, giving shallow pumps of her hips, then pitching forward, taking him slow and deep. She preferred it that way, so she stayed half-leaned on him and worked herself up and down his length, grinding at the end to get some stimulation on her clit.

She was panting, the tight knot of pleasure pulsing in her cunt growing more and more insistent.

"Am I better than a broom?" Snape said, lips curling smugly.

"Barely," she groaned, smiling back with matching smugness. "I... I just needed a cock—would have taken... mmm, fuck, any cock."

A grow left Snape's mouth. His hands suddenly gripped her hips, and he slammed her down on his cock, making her gasp.

"Only mine," he said, teeth bared. "No one else."

She whimpered. He lifted her up, brought her down again, establishing a quick rhythm.

"Tell me, Harrie," he bit out.

"Yes. Yes, only you."

They moved together, faster, bodies trembling in unison, hands clutching at each other. She was clenching around him with each thrust, her cunt gripping his cock tightly, the pleasure getting sharper.

"I want..." she started, but her sentence ended in a long whine as he slid inside her again, so hard, so hot.

"Tell me."

"Can you... can you come in me without knotting me?"

One side of his mouth quirked up, heat swirling his in gaze.

"It's difficult, but doable. Easier like this when you're on top."

"Do it," she said, grasping his shoulders hard, her breath a series of needy whines. "Do it, cum in me. And later... in class, ah... every time you look at me, you'll know I'm dripping your cum in my panties."

"Fuck, Harrie."

He dragged her down, thrusting up at the same time, shuddering hard, his face twisted in something that looked like pain.

"Yes, Sev, yes... Fill me up, please, please, fill me..."

She was babbling, begging for his cum, her whole being focused on Snape's black eyes and his thick cock pummeling her, and then she cried out, bucking once and going rigid as her orgasm struck her. Snape hissed in pleasure. He brought their hips together a final time, and his cock twitched inside her, spurting slick heat. She whimpered in gratitude. His hands held onto her bruisingly hard, while he remained still, breathing harshly as he emptied himself inside her.

"Ah," he huffed when it was over, his body relaxing under her. "Is my little Omega satisfied?"

"Yes," she said, slumping on top of him. "Fantastic idea you had, waking up early."

They stayed in bed a while longer, then got ready for the day. Harrie charmed her skin clean of sweat and her slick, without doing a deep clean. It felt dirty to keep Snape's cum in her, and uncomfortably damp and sticky as it leaked out, but Potions was her first period of the day, and the reward was worth it.

She sat at her desk, his cum dripping from her cunt, and nobody knew. There was sizzling tension between her and Snape, and when he looked at her, she had to fight to keep a smile off her lips. He showed perfect control as always, regarding her with the hatred that he had exhibited toward her since the very first year. And now it was an act.

An act, an act. He was her Alpha, and she wanted to scream it to the whole world. That could never happen. Or maybe... maybe once Voldemort would be dead. Yes, maybe.

"Potter, are you trying to burn down the classroom?"

Distracted by her thoughts of the future, she hadn't noticed the fire under her cauldron was flaring, almost out of control. She cast a quick spell to take care of that.

"Sorry, Professor."

"Another failure," he said, with a glance at her ruined potion. "You'll end up with a T for you N.E.W.T.s at this rate, Potter."

"I still have half a year to get better, sir."

"And every single day shall be needed," he said, vanishing her potion with a lazy swipe of his wand.

That evening, she slipped out of bed after midnight and sneaked to his quarters. He was waiting for her, ambushed her as soon as she entered his bedroom, trapping her against the wall.

"You're late," he said, his lips brushing hers. "Come earlier next time."

"Every single day?" she asked, hopefully.

"Every single day," he confirmed, before he kissed her.

So it was.

A week went by.

She spent her nights with Snape, having spectacular sex, she woke up with him, had more sex most mornings, and when they weren't having sex, they even managed to have some civil conversations. She learned that his favorite color was green (not black), that he took his coffee black with no cream and no sugar ("It's coffee Potter, sugar and scream are for the weak"), that he loved cats and hated dogs ("Dumb creatures with no brain"), and that he had absolutely no patience for being teased (that one she had suspected, but it was confirmed again and again whenever she attempted to play coy and he just pushed her against the nearest available surface to have his way with her).

She wanted to ask about the future, and what would happen after Voldemort, what could happen, but she didn't dare. She wasn't sure of what she was feeling for him, wasn't sure of what she actually wanted. It still scared her, imagining more with him. What if he said no? What if he got angry and then she lost what she already had? Half of a good thing was better than nothing at all.

So she didn't say anything about her feelings, and of course he said nothing on the subject either. Sometimes she thought she could see something in his gaze when they were fucking face to face, some measure of affection, but that could easily have been from all the hormones that came with sex, or from the Alpha in him, caring for the Omega in her. Could easily have been nothing at all.

Soon Wednesday had come again, and she was heading to the dungeons for her scheduled scent marking (which actually was useless since Snape had been licking her gland the night before), when she ran into Luna.

"Evening, Harrie. Are you going to see your secret lover?"

Harrie spluttered, fighting a blush.

"No," she said. "I have detention with Snape."

"Yes, that's what I said. He's your secret lover. He drinks your blood, too, doesn't he?"

"No. No, you've got it all wrong, Luna. I mean, Snape? He's so... old. And nasty."

"Oh," Luna said, looking disappointed. "But you do have a secret lover? Ginny is usually not wrong about those things..."

"Yes. Yes, I do. It's... it's Malfoy. My secret lover's Malfoy."

Luna gave an immediate nod, like that made perfect sense.

"You couldn't resist his Veela charms," she said.

Apparently everything Luna said this evening would come as a shock.

"Yes, couldn't resist them at all," Harrie said. Then she scrunched up her nose. "I really don't want people to think that me and Snape... ugh, no. I can't even say it. Are people saying that?"

Please no, please no, please no...

"No, that was just my personal guess. Ginny didn't actually say who your secret lover was."

Thank you, wizard gods.

"I'd rather it stay a secret," Harrie said. "It's sort of a... forbidden relationship. With Draco."

Luna nodded again, smiling.

"Two enemies, secretly united by the bonds of love," she said with a dreamy sigh. "It's just like in Courted by the Half-Blood Prince!"

"It is?"

"Yes! It's so romantic. They bicker in public, they try to kill each other a few times, and then in private they make love."

"Uh. And you said it was one of Syndercombe's early works, right?"

"The earliest. First novel he ever published."

"Which year?"

"1983," Luna said without hesitation.

So a twenty-three-year-old Snape had written that book. Was that what he had wanted in a relationship? Outward hostility, and secret affection? Did he still want that?

"Could I borrow it again? I didn't read it the first time, but now you've convinced me I should."

"Can it wait a little? It's not that I don't trust you, Harrie, but I would rather not part with my autographed copy. I do have a normal copy, at home. I'll owl it to you during the Christmas break, okay?"

"Okay, sure."

Luna smiled.

"Careful with Snape, anyway. I still think he wants to drink your blood. I've seen him looking at your neck during dinner a few times."

She wandered off on that, leaving Harrie with a lot to think about.

"You have to be more careful," she told Snape later, as they were lying in his bed, all sweaty and sated. "Luna noticed you staring at my neck at dinner."

"I wasn't staring."

"Well, she noticed anyway. But it's Luna, so she thinks you're a vampire and want to suck my blood."

"Maybe I am a vampire," he said, his lips skimming the left side of her neck, brushing over her gland in a soft caress.

"You can bite me if you want."

She wondered if she meant it, and if he would catch the double meaning.

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter."

Yes, he caught it.

"Don't you want to suck my blood?" she said, pretending this had never been a serious offer. "I bet Omegas have very tasty blood. I bet my blood would be so addictive that if you were a vampire, you wouldn't be able to resist me."

"I already can't resist you."

She tipped her head back, delighted to hear that.

"Say it again."

"I can't resist you."

He sounded frustrated, as if that was a failing on his part.

"I can't resist you either," she said.

"That doesn't mean much. Most Gryffindors have poor impulse control, and you are a quintessential Gryffindor."

There was more frustration in there. It made Harrie want to poke at that bit.

"You love that I'm a quintessential Gryffindor," she said, turning to press a kiss to his jaw.

He made a small, throaty noise.

"You know, the Sorting Hat offered me Slytherin. Said I had ambition and Slytherin would help me on my way to greatness."

"But you chose Gryffindor," Snape said.

"Well, yeah. Malfoy was already a knobhead, and he wanted Slytherin. Meanwhile Ron had told me all about the bravery of Gryffindors, and he'd been nicer to me than anyone had ever been. I wanted to make friends."

"You chose with your heart. That's very Gryffindor." He placed his hand at her lower back, fingers dancing there. "You wouldn't have done well in Slytherin."

He didn't explain why, but she agreed anyway. She would have butted heads with Malfoy, probably wouldn't have been friends with Ron or Hermione at all, and would have grown angry and bitter, never realizing what she was missing.

"Would you have hated me more?" she asked.

"No. I would have been... intrigued."

"Maybe I wouldn't have hated you, then."

"There's no use living in the past, Potter."

"No, you're right. The present's much more interesting."

Then she kissed him, determined to enjoy every moment they had together. They didn't need to go to sleep just yet.

*

Two days later, Snape greeted her with a brutal kiss as soon as she entered his office. He pinned her to the door and ravaged her mouth, claiming her with tongue and teeth. She mewled against his lips, heat surging into her, irrepressible.

"What was that for?" she said when it was over, breathless, her lips tingling,

"I heard a rumor today."

"Oh," she said.

She had heard the same, catching the words 'Malfoy and Potter, I'm telling you!' as she passed by a giggling group of Hufflepuff girls.

"It's just... it's a stupid rumor. You know it's not true."

"I know," he said, but still his gaze was weighted with a particular intensity that differed from the usual.

Her heart raced faster when she realized he was jealous. He hated the thought of her with another Alpha. He wanted her for himself.

"I'm yours," she said, and watched possessive satisfaction burn in his eyes.

"You are."

He kissed her again, softer this time. She licked at his bottom lip, sliding her hands in his hair. It wasn't greasy, as she had so often thought in the past, before she had the chance to actually touch it. The potion fumes left some sort of residue on them that made them look glossy, but his hair felt like silk, or like a cat's fur. She stroked it while they kissed some more.

"It's ridiculous that anyone could believe there is anything between you and Malfoy," he said.

"It's Ginny. She's convinced we're having hate sex."

"Ridiculous," he repeated.

He slipped his hands under her thighs and lifted her up, grinding the hard bulge of his cock against her. She moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist, grinding back. He didn't like to be teased, but on the other hand he teased her so much sometimes that it felt like she would explode.

"Malfoy's not my type at all," she said, running her fingers through his hair.

"And what exactly is your type, Potter?"

"Surly Potions Masters with silky hair and a big cock."

He grunted, rewarding her with a hard grind of hips that put delicious pressure on her clit and made her moan again.

"Are we... are we having hate sex?"

"No," he replied immediately, like the answer was obvious.

"Okay. Just thought I'd check, because I really don't know what we're having."

"It doesn't need to be defined."

Here, she disagreed. She very much wanted to define it, and then explore all its limits.

"But—"

"How do you feel about a little roleplay?" he said, cutting her off.

Fine. No defining. More sex instead.

"What do you have in mind?"

They moved to the bedroom, where he showed her. There were robes on his bed, along with a tie, and a scarf. Black robes, with green threads lining the interior, and a green patch on the front. Green tie, green scarf. Slytherin clothes.

Her size.

"Is it because I told you I was almost in Slytherin?"

"Yes."

She picked up the tie, smirked at him.

"Does that turn you on a lot?"

"Evidently," he said, without bothering to disguise the eager edge in his voice. "Now put this on. Not here," he added as she started undressing. "In the bathroom."

She got into the bathroom, closed the door so the surprise would be complete. She switched robes, and noticed no difference apart from the colors. It felt supremely weird to look down and see the Slytherin patch on her chest. Weird, and wrong. She wouldn't have done this for anyone but Snape.

The tie was green and silver, the tissue soft under her fingers. She never wore ties. It was an optional part of the dress code, and most girls didn't bother with it. She had, however, learned the spell that made it tie itself perfectly, so she had no trouble with it. And finally, the scarf. It settled nicely against her throat, smelled faintly of Snape. Had he manipulated it a lot? Had he worn it?

She glanced at herself in the mirror, grimaced. She looked all wrong, a Slytherin Harrie from the alternative universe where she had listened to the Sorting Hat's suggestion. She also couldn't see anything remotely arousing about that.

"Okay, prepare yourself!" she said jokingly, before opening the door and stepping out.

Snape was sitting on the bed. When he saw her, his face tightened, suddenly focused, his black eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring. His mouth opened the slightest degree, then became a thin line. Harrie stood still under his scrutiny.

"It's weird, right?"

He didn't say anything. He kept looking at her, intensely. It was a bit worrying, actually. He wasn't even blinking.

"Snape?"

There, he blinked.

"You..." he said. "You look..."

He didn't finish his sentence, which had never happened before. Slowly, he rose, approached her.

"I look stupid."

"No." His voice was hoarse, and months ago she would have thought nothing of it, but now she recognized it as arousal. "No, you don't. You look lovely."

She blushed, so fiercely she felt her cheeks heat up. He called her pretty sometimes, and he called her perfect, but that was when they were fucking ("what a pretty girl I have in my lap", "look at that perfect cunt"). He had never said anything so blunt, and never outside of active sex.

"I'm not," she said.

"Yes, you are. So very lovely, Potter. Green is your color."

"You really think so?"

She was fishing for compliments, but Snape seemed in a mood to give them.

"Yes, you beautiful girl."

He cupped her chin, with gentle warm fingers, that then crept under her scarf. He pushed it down, peeking at the tie underneath, inhaling sharply when his eyes fell on it. Harrie was starting to get aroused, despite not understanding what was so attractive about her in Slytherin clothes. Seeing Snape entranced was enough.

For a moment, his fingers stroked at her tie. Then he unwound the scarf, and pulled, removing it completely from her neck. He threw it behind him, carelessly, then fisted his hands in her robes, and dragged her against him in one rough tug. She gasped, the sound betraying her, high and wanting.

"And what are you doing so late outside your dormitory, Miss Potter?" Snape purred. "Sneaking into your Head of House's quarters? How inappropriate. You know I don't play favorites with the students of my own House."

Her Head of House. God, that sentence sounded so wrong coming out of Snape's mouth. And more than a little exciting. Well, if he wanted her to roleplay, she could roleplay. And Slytherin Harrie would be very different from her. She'd be even more confident. She'd be so in control. She would have Snape wrapped around her little finger.

"You do play favorites, sir," she said, smiling sweetly. "Everyone knows it. That's why I'm here tonight. I need a favor from you..."

She let her fingers trail down the sides of his frock coat, heading lower and lower.

"A favor," he said, arching an eyebrow, looking just like he would in class for a moment.

"Yes. You see, I was looking at my grades in Potions, and I was thinking that I could convince you to change them a bit."

Her fingers reached his groin, and she drew patterns there, avoiding his erection which was making itself known very visibly.

"And how were you planning on convincing me?"

"Does my Head of House want head?"

Snape gave a pained groan. Harrie laughed, loosing her hold on Slytherin Harrie.

"Come on, that's not the first time that line has been used," she said, grinning.

"You would have made a terrible Slytherin. A very pretty one, but absolutely useless otherwise."

"I don't know. Slytherin Harrie would have had my mouth. And my hands. And my cunt." She palmed his cock through his trousers, hummed at the twitch she felt. "Would you call all that useless?"

"Slytherin Harrie should get on her knees and service me," he said, voice so rough it sounded like one deep rumble.

"Yes, sir."

She sank down to her knees, worked on freeing his cock. As soon as it was in her hands, she licked the tip, fluttering her tongue there. Snape's hands gripped her hair, a tight, domineering hold.

"That's it, Potter. If you want me to change your grades, you'll have to earn it."

"Oh, I'll earn it, sir. I'll give you the best blowjob of your life."

"Highly unlikely, but you're welcome to try."

Tried, she did.

She sucked and licked the way he liked best, which amounted more or less to performing a study of his cock with her tongue, slow and meticulous. She paid attention to his bollocks as well, lightly cupping and rolling them in one hand, timing her caresses with the strokes of her tongue. He made low noises of enjoyment, his breath getting raspier, his hands clenching in her hair.

She took him deeper, letting his length slide over her tongue. Still slow, still careful, with minimal drool, her lips closing on his shaft. Then she bobbed her head, peering up at him through her eyelashes, and she wondered what she looked like, on her knees for him in Slytherin robes and tie. Whatever the answer, Snape clearly liked it a lot, lust written in every line of his face, eyes getting darker and darker.

She drew back, used both hands to stroke his shaft while she sucked at the head. His cock was twitching, leaking a lot of pre-cum, which she swallowed despite the awful taste. That was tangible proof of how much she was trying, right there.

Snape gave a sort of strangled groan, his thighs tensing. She expected he would come, but he didn't. He was holding himself back.

She sucked harder, pumping him in firmer strokes, and tried to think of something to say to make him crest over that edge. Something Slytherin Harrie would say. Something shocking. So dirty Gryffindor Harrie would have never said it. Something like...

"I want you to come on my face."

He exhaled in a growl, his hands flexing in her hair. Then he tugged her up.

"Enough. Get up."

"So that's a no?" she said, after one last lick to his cock.

"I want you naked. Everything but the tie. Now."

His cock glistening with her saliva, he was breathing hard, and staring at her with unwavering control. He had never been so hot.

"Yes, Alpha," she said, and hurried to comply.

Everything but the tie? That was so... she didn't really have a word for what it was. Apart from so scorchingly hot her slick was dripping down her inner thighs. Off went her robes, her shirt, her skirt, followed by her tights. She removed her bra without really thinking about it, then peeled off her knickers slowly, staring at Snape. He stared back, tension electric in the air.

Finally she was naked, save for the tie. Snape stepped forward, looped a hand around the tie, and forced her backward, step by step, until her arse met the edge of his desk. He hoisted her up on it, spread her legs, grabbed the tie again. Harrie keened, hands catching the edge of the desk, parting her legs more. Sucking Snape's cock had turned her on, but this was on another level, and her arousal was so sharp it was nearly painful.

"Please," she said, hips twitching toward him. "Oh, please, please..."

"Watch," he growled, tugging on the tie.

She looked down, and watched him bring his cock to where she needed him most. He entered her slowly, his hard shaft parting her walls and making room for itself inside of her. The familiar pressure was accompanied by the novel sight of his cock disappearing into her. She trembled, resisting the urge to snap her hips forward and take the last few inches herself. Her body clamored for it, but she wanted to watch Snape do it, wanted to watch him bury himself to the root inside her.

"It's like you were made for me, Harrie," he said.

"Yes. Yes, Snape, yes..."

"Call me Severus when I'm inside you," he said, and from the tone of his voice she knew he was smirking.

"Severus, please, just—"

He thrust forward, sheathing himself fully, and she forgot what she was going to say, the words obliterated from her mind. Who cared about words? Snape was inside her, and it was as glorious as ever.

"Look at me."

Her gaze snapped up, met his. He started moving, in hard, long strokes that immediately felt so good Harrie whimpered and grabbed hold of him, her mouth hanging open. She babbled his name in between whimpers of pleasure, rocking her hips, needing him deeper even though it wasn't physically possible.

She came on his fifth thrust, legs shaking and jerking, her cunt clamping down on him in strong rippling spasms. He fucked her through that, didn't pause for a second, and it magnified the heat tenfold, until she was pushed into a second orgasm, her weeping cunt producing more slick.

Snape made a rough sound, twined his hand one more time around the tie, almost making it into a collar. She didn't object, her brain even chiming in with a oh that's hot. She'd wear a collar if he wanted her to, with Property of the Half-Blood Prince written on it. Yes, she'd do it.

"Sev..."

She curled into him, body lax and soft, while his thrusts sped up. She could feel his knot, and see it, a massive bulge rubbing against her. Her aching cunt clenched at the memory of how it felt inside her. He was grinding it into her, like he wanted to...

"Can I knot you?"

The question made her cunt clench again.

"Yes," she said.

She wanted nothing more than to take his knot at this moment.

Her answer unleashed a monster. He grunted, once, and then he was slamming his hips into hers so hard that the entire desk rattled. It was a smaller desk than the one in his office, and it felt flimsier too. She hoped it wouldn't break before Snape was done. He didn't seem to care about the desk at all.

The only thing he cared about was getting his knot inside her. She gasped when he forced half of it in, withdrew, then pushed again.

"Mine," he growled, huffing against her hair.

"Yes, yes, fuck..."

She relaxed her muscles so his knot could go in, and thank God she was so slick, his desk was going to be absolutely drenched with her juices, but fuck the desk, this wasn't about the desk, this was about his knot, and it was almost—

"Mine, fuck..."

In. It popped inside her, swelled, the pressure tripling. Harrie came, couldn't really help it, not when it felt like that, not when Snape was kissing her, claiming her mouth with his tongue the same way he had claimed her cunt with his knot. Pleasure shot through her, pulsing white lines of hot bliss. She dimly felt Snape come as well, adding more heat between them, more heat inside her.

"Uh, Sev..."

"Good girl," he murmured, lips sliding down to her scent gland, licking, another form of claiming. "You didn't faint this time."

"Didn't," she agreed.

Her skin was buzzing, her cunt fluttering in weak spasms around his knot, her mind not all there, but she was conscious. Snape stroked his hands up and down her back, praising her more, telling her she was perfect.

"Did I... satisfy... my Head of House?" she panted, a giddy smile on her lips.

"Oh, yes. I'm so very satisfied."

They both grunted as his cock jerked, spilling more cum inside her. It leaked out in small dribbles, staining the desk underneath.

"We ruined your desk," she said.

"Fuck my desk."

"Yeah... Do you think we could move to your bed?"

She didn't fancy sitting on the edge of his desk for hours, hadn't really considered the logistics before agreeing to being knotted.

"Hold on to me," he said.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, looped her arms around his neck, and let herself be lifted and moved. His knot rubbed inside her with each step, sending jolts of ecstasy deep in her flesh, making her whine non-stop.

"Almost there," he said, which was a lie, because after that there were two more steps, and then another, and—

"I'm gonna—ffffu—"

The orgasm started from so deep inside her it seemed to come from her soul, then took all the rest of her. She shuddered so hard her teeth clacked together, howled like it was the end of the world and she was gonna die from climaxing (good death, she'd take it). Snape said something, low and soothing, but she wasn't in a state to understand words right now. Her howl faltered, became a noise for which there was no word because she was the first human being to ever make it, and then she...

...oh, of course. She fainted.

Came back to Snape stroking her cheek, looking down at her with deep amusement.

"Don't," she croaked.

"Did I say anything?" he returned, with a strategic eyebrow quirk.

"You were thinking it so hard I could read your mind."

He chuckled. She blinked, situating herself. She was on her back in his bed, his knot firmly lodged inside her. She was also still wearing the tie.

"So... are you gonna tell me what's so hot about me wearing Slytherin clothes?"

"You're mine," he said, with no further explanation.

"Is this an Alpha thing? Getting visual proof of your ownership?" When he didn't answer, she went on. "Do you want me to wear a collar? I could have Property of the Half-Blood Prince written on it, and—"

His mouth was on hers, shutting her up for an undetermined amount of minutes (she had another orgasm, which made it very hard to estimate time).

"You're not getting any sleep tonight," Snape said in a hot growl when his lips finally left hers.

"It's Friday night. I don't need sleep."

"I will hold you to that," he said, and somehow his gaze was hungry, despite him being knot deep inside her at this very moment.

"Please do."

And so they didn't sleep, not until the early hours of the morning, at which point they sort of collapsed into each other and promptly dozed off, matching smiles on their faces.

Chapter Text

Another week went by, and then it was the Christmas break. Most students went home for the holidays, leaving the castle nearly empty.

Harrie usually felt a little maudlin around Christmas, stuck in the castle without her friends, but this year there was a sense of excitement that made her pulse race. No classes and no Ron and Hermione meant more time with Snape.

He tried to rebuff her at first, telling her they couldn't spend entire days together, that he still had some work to do, and that she was distracting her. But she didn't give up, kept showing up in his quarters at all times of the day, and at some point during the fourth day as she was hovering near him and watching him brew, he gave up and stopped complaining.

"Since you won't be dissuaded from this foolish course of actions, you have to be careful, Potter," he told her with a glare that was really only perfunctory. "You can't be seen entering my office at all hours of the day."

"I know. I am being careful. Do you think I want people to know I'm sleeping with you?"

His gaze darkened, but not from lust.

"Yes," he said, his tone biting. "What would everyone think of their precious Chosen One if they knew she lets ugly old Snape have his way with her?"

She scowled at him. She didn't want to get into an argument, but she wasn't gonna let him say things like that.

"You're not ugly, Severus. And maybe you're old, but you're not that old. I would be delighted to let everyone know we're having sex, if that didn't mean you'd lose your job."

"You don't have to lie to protect my ego. I'm well aware of what I'm worth."

"I'm not lying. I find you very attractive, I love your smell, and need I remind you you're my Alpha? Besides, I don't care what people say about me. After being called a shifty little liar and a whore by the Daily Prophet for months, I've grown past that."

"They called you a whore?" Snape said, his shoulders going tight with sudden tension.

"It was implied. You didn't read the articles?"

He waved a hand.

"I don't have time for any of Rita Skeeter's rubbish. What was implied, exactly?"

"It was years ago, Snape. It doesn't matter."

"Tell me."

She sighed.

"Skeeter implied that I only escaped the cemetery alive because I offered more than my blood to Voldemort. I think the actual phrasing was, bargained with her body when all else failed."

"You didn't even offer your blood, he took it," Snape said with something close to a snarl at the end.

"It's all rubbish, like you said. And it's in the past. Hermione took ca—uh, no."

"Yes?" Snape said, eyes alight with interest. "What did Miss Granger do?"

"It's not my secret to tell. But it's over. We could tell the whole world we're sleeping together, and there wouldn't be any mean Skeeter's articles."

"What a relief. But there will be no telling anyone."

"No," Harrie agreed, a little regretfully.

Snape narrowed his eyes at her.

"No. Telling," he said, giving the two words quite a weight.

"I know! If anyone's gonna tell, it's you. You were staring at me again at lunch, I saw you."

"If you saw me, you were looking in my direction, and therefore also staring."

"Why do you always have to have the last word?" she groaned.

"Says the one who can't shut up."

"You know what, you're right. We don't have to spend every moment together."

She grabbed her cloak and left. He didn't say anything to stop her.

At dinner, she didn't look once in his direction. In fact, she didn't even check if he was there. She chatted with Mathilda, had a great time. There were other things in life besides sex and arsehole Alphas.

That night she lay in bed and for the first time in three weeks, didn't go to Snape. Instead she considered her feelings for the stupid bastard. There were a lot of them, and they were all so confusing. She hated him, superficially, and she liked him, more than superficially. She wanted to be with him, and she wanted to talk with him, and she wanted him to look at her, and... be his. But that might have been the Omega, and nothing else, not true, deep Harrie.

How could she know what her true feelings were?

The answer hit her at once.

Veritaserum. If she could get some, take some, then she'd only tell the truth. So she'd know. She could say it, try to say "I like Severus Snape, and I would like him even if I wasn't an Omega", and see if that came out. And then if it did, she'd try saying other things.

She knew where Snape kept his supply of Veritaserum. He had shown her himself, back in fourth year, when he had threatened to use some on her. A small storage room on the third floor, on the right after the stairs, just before the turn of the corridor.

It was very late, well after midnight, but she put on her cloak and sneaked out. Five minutes later, she was casting a silent Alohomora on the storage room's door, slipping inside. She shrugged off the cloak, holding her wand high, squinting at the shelves filled with potions, on all three walls, floor to ceiling. Thankfully Snape sorted everything alphabetically, and she found Veritaserum under the Vs, on the right shelf, bottom corner.

Two vials. She only needed one, only needed a couple of drops. She'd take them right here, and do her experiment right here as well.

She picked up a vial, contemplated it a moment. Now wasn't the time to be hesitating, yet she was. Did she really want to know? What if she hated what she discovered? There would be no coming back. The knowledge would be here, in her head, and it'd come out while she was with Snape, possibly ruining everything.

She sighed, stood up, switched her weight from foot to foot, thinking.

No, she had to know.

She uncorked the vial, took a sniff, despite knowing it wouldn't smell like anything. Odorless, colorless, and brewed to perfection by Snape. He'd help her discover the truth. Ironic.

She was bringing the vial to her lips when the door opened. The light of a very strong Lumos blinded her, but she didn't need to see to know it was Snape. His scent wrapped around her, heady, so pleasant.

"Of course it's you," he said.

He closed the door behind him, lowered his wand enough that she could see his face. He looked pissed off, and his hair was sticking out in strange, almost comical ways. Had he been asleep?

"How did you know I was here?" she said.

"I have wards protecting this room. You disturbed them." His gaze snagged on the Veritaserum. "What are you doing?"

Before she could answer, he snatched the vial from her hand, in a quick, Seeker-worthy move.

"Planning on using this on me, are you, Potter?" he said with a hard glare.

"No!"

"Don't lie to me," he growled, advancing on her.

In the cramped space, he seemed to take up all the room, especially since he was wearing his frock coat and his cape, and Harrie stepped back, steadying a hand on the closest shelf.

"On me! I want to use it on me! So I know... so I know what I'm feeling. To see the truths I can tell."

He snorted.

"Are you stupid, or did you not listen to a word I said last year when we covered Veritaserum? It cannot be self-administered."

"Err, what?"

"Someone must ask the questions," Snape said with cutting impatience.

"So you ask them," she said, stepping closer and opening her mouth.

He put the cork back in the vial, the sound enough to communicate his refusal.

"I want to know," she said, and she gripped his hand, closing her fist around the vial.

"I told you, Potter. It's your hormones. There is no point in digging further into that mess."

"But I can't be sure, and I want to be sure. Please. Please, Severus."

She thought using his first name might get him to soften up. It had the opposite reaction. He drew back his arm, his face hardening.

"Go back to bed. I won't take points tonight on account of your... emotional distress, but if I catch you in here again, that will be a hundred points deduction."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I'm not going back to bed. I want to know."

Snape made a frustrated sound, showing his teeth for a second.

"You can't use Veritaserum this way anyway, you stupid girl. If you're confused about what you feel, your answers will be just as confused. It doesn't clarify anything, it has to be clear from the start. If I asked if you hate the Dark Lord, then yes, we'd get an answer. But it doesn't work for... this."

This. What there was between them.

"How can you stand it?" she asked, searching his eyes for a sign that he was hurting as much as she was. "How can you just... not care?"

"It's all we can have," he said in a low voice.

"It's not enough."

And it hurt even more to say it, to acknowledge that ache inside her.

"It has to be," he said, still in that low, emotionless voice.

He turned away, slipping the vial in his pocket, showing her his back.

"Go back to bed."

She pressed herself against him, her hands clutching at his robes.

"Can it be your bed?"

She felt him sigh.

"Please," she said. "If we can't have more, then let's at least have that."

"I would rather not have you in my bed when you're this emotional."

"Why? Are you afraid I might say something?"

Something terrible, that he couldn't stand to hear, and then it would all be wrong between them.

"I won't," she said in a murmur. "I won't say anything. I promise."

He sighed again. His hands curled over hers, a warm, soothing contact.

"If you feel you need it..." he said, reluctantly.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

I need you. I need... I need...

No. She had promised she wouldn't say anything.

"Very well. Stick close to me, and do not make a sound."

He put the vial of Veritaserum back onto its shelf, waited for her to be hidden under her cloak, then opened the door. They stepped out into the corridor.

Snape walked quickly, Harrie following a step behind. He didn't look back, nor did he give any indication he wasn't alone.

They had reached the ground floor and were almost to the dungeons, but luck wasn't on their side, and of all people, they ran into McGonagall. The older witch hesitated upon seeing Snape, then drew closer.

"Severus. I did not expect to see you out this late."

"Evening, Minerva. I could say the same to you."

A small, strained smile appeared on McGonagall's face.

"I was hungry," she said, looking a bit guilty, like she was admitting to a damning weakness.

Snape nodded, but said nothing. It appeared he wouldn't volunteer the reason he was up at this hour, and fortunately McGonagall elected not to ask (although Harrie knew Snape would have lied flawlessly anyway).

No, instead, for some reason, McGonagall asked about her.

"How are things between you and Harrie?"

Going great. We were just heading to his bedroom so we can have hot, meaningless sex.

"A strange topic at this hour," Snape said, "but if you must know, we have reached an understanding, and Potter is being mostly reasonable, even if she is still quite displeased with our arrangement."

"Understandably. You've made sure that there won't be any, ah, incidents?"

Incidents? What qualified as an incident?

"As best I can. The potion isn't foolproof, but so far Miss Potter is doing well."

Oh, they were talking about her potentially going into heat. Did they really have to? It made her feel like she wasn't anything more than an Omega. Just a weird magical anomaly that could be waylaid by her own hormonal system at any moment. A bomb waiting to explode.

"Good. It won't be for much longer, will it?" McGonagall said, sounding ill-at-ease.

"The Dark Lord hasn't shared any plans regarding Potter as of yet. It may go on a while."

"Poor girl. I wish there were an easier way."

Harrie snickered silently. McGonagall had no idea what getting licked by Snape meant for her now.

"As do I," Snape said, with a small wince.

Oh, yes. Pretend you don't enjoy licking me all over.

"Good night, Severus."

"Good night, Minerva," Snape replied, before resuming his fast stride.

Harrie hugged the wall while McGonagall walked past her, waited until she was a few steps away, then followed Snape. They made it to his rooms, where Harrie pulled off her cloak, groaning.

"Do you often have conversations with McGonagall about my Omega status?"

"I find it as distasteful as you do," Snape replied. "And while both Albus and Minerva ask me about you, I give them as little information as possible."

"Can't you give them zero information?"

"They worry about you. Rightfully so, I shall add."

"I'm fine," Harrie grumbled. "Now take me to bed and fuck me."

"How could I resist such an eloquently worded demand?"

"Shut up," she said, before jumping into his arms in an aggressive frontal hug, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He carried her into the bedroom, set her down on the bed, climbed on top of her and kissed her. She mewled into his mouth, ground her hips against his, almost mindlessly. Smothered under his weight and his larger frame, she felt small, and protected. Her Alpha was here, and her Alpha would take care of her.

"I'm ready," she mumbled against his lips. "I'm ready, Sev. Fuck me."

"Needy little thing," he said.

He tugged her pyjamas down, pushed her knickers to the side, and filled her in a single thrust. Her back bowed, and she whimpered, grabbing his shoulders. He moved in long, steady strokes that hit that perfect spot inside her. His forehead pressed to hers, they were breathing the same air, sharing the same heat, moving to the same rhythm.

Each plunge of his cock in her felt heavenly, his hard length providing perfect friction, jolting her with hot pleasure. She was whining and moaning, telling him it felt so good, that she loved having him inside her, that she would never tire of it. It skirted close to what she really wanted to say, but the words she was choosing were safe, wouldn't provoke his anger. She said them again and again, babbling in a lust-fogged state, while Snape was silent, eyes fixed on her, his gaze bleeding desire and, Harrie thought, need.

She imagined, in her fevered mind, that it was more than carnal need, that he cared for her beyond the sex, and the thought was so powerful it immediately made her come. She threw her head back, her cunt clenching around his cock, her hands clawing at his shoulders.

"Oh, Sev..."

He grunted, the sound muffled against her throat. She felt the hot lash of his tongue upon her scent gland, then his hips jerked, rhythm lost, and he spilled inside her with a sigh.

It had been quick, but she hadn't been looking for a hours-long fuck. She only wanted to prove to herself that he still wanted her, that they could still have this.

He pulled out of her carefully, spelled them clean. They cuddled in silence for a while.

"You didn't even apologize, you know," she said.

"What is there to apologize for?"

"This afternoon. You were being an arse."

"I won't apologize for who I am, Potter."

She scoffed. Really, that was his answer?

"Besides, you like it when I'm being an arse," he said, running a hand through her hair.

"Not all the time. Just... moderately. A moderate arse."

He chuckled. She gave a sigh, shifting a bit against him.

"I wish I could sit beside you at the feast," she said.

"That is ridiculous."

"I know."

She closed her eyes, decided she should go to sleep before she said more of what she wanted. Snape didn't want to hear it. Didn't want it. Yet they could have had so much more. And it would have been so good.

"You're stupid sometimes," she informed him.

He didn't answer, and she fell asleep soon after.

*

The next day, neither of them mentioned last night, and their interactions were back to normal (normal for them, of course). They had sex in the morning, bickered in the afternoon, then Harrie stayed for the night, which also included a thorough round of sex.

The following day was the 24th. The evening feast was a delight as always, with enough food to feed a small army. There were so few students left that they all sat at the same table, differences between Houses forgotten. Harrie was between Mathilda and another Hufflepuff, a first-year boy who seemed determined to eat his own weight's worth of food.

"Is it always like this?" he asked, filling his plate for the third time. "All this food, and the decorations, and the... the cheer?"

"Pretty much," Mathilda nodded. "Christmas at Hogwarts is the best."

"Yeah," Harrie agreed. "It's always such fun."

She offered a Wizard Cracker to Mathilda, who tugged on it. The cracker popped open with a puff of blue smoke, revealing a soft pointed red hat, with a silver bell at the end. Mathilda put it on, smiling, then shook her head so the bell would jingle.

"How do I look, Harrie?"

"A bit like a Christmas elf."

She grinned, shook her head harder. Jingle, jingle, went the bell.

"I'll have to remember to take it off for my nightly outing," she said.

"You're still wandering the castle at night?"

Snape hadn't complained about her for a long time, so Harrie had assumed Mathilda had stopped.

"Of course! I'm finding new things every night."

"When do you sleep?"

"History of Magic," Mathilda said, which made Harrie laugh.

"It's a snooze fest," said another girl, a sixth-year Slytherin. "Always has been, apparently. Rumor is Binns died of boredom."

"I actually like History of Magic," said the first-year Hufflepuff. "I've learned lots of interesting things."

"That's because you've yet to hit the part about the Centaur Wars," the girl said. "Let's see your interest survive that."

Both Mathilda and Harrie groaned in pain at the mention of that dreaded portion of the curriculum. Binns had an obsession with it, and he dedicated long, extra-boring classes to the Centaur Wars every year. Harrie could have recited the opening of his first lecture by heart.

"Snape keeps looking at you," Mathilda said a few minutes later. "Did you do something to piss him off?"

Harrie glanced toward Snape. Their eyes met, and she tried to convey her thoughts. Hey, stop being suspicious. He glared at her, looked away, turning toward McGonagall.

"Dunno," Harrie said. "He hates me, so I'm used to being the target of his glares."

"I don't think he hates you."

What a slippery slope.

"Sure he does," Harrie said nonchalantly. "I must hold the record in terms of detentions he's given."

"He hates everyone, doesn't he?" said the first-year Hufflepuff. "It's like he even hates teaching. I don't understand why he's a professor."

"He has a lot of secrets," Mathilda said, her voice carrying admiration. "Oh, so many secrets, so well hidden..."

"Probably all boring," Harrie said.

"Harrie, secrets are never boring! That's why they're secrets."

"I have a feeling you'd get in real trouble if you ever found out any of his secrets," said the sixth-year Slytherin. "He has cauldrons large enough to dissolve a human body in."

"He does?" the little Hufflepuff said, looking at Snape like he expected to be cooked in his cauldron any second.

"Oh, yes. And rumor has it he keeps students' body parts in glass jars on the shelves of his office..."

"What?" squeaked another first-year, shooting an alarmed look at Snape.

"Stop scaring the first-years," Harrie said. "It's not true, all right? Snape might look mean, but he would never hurt a student."

"Still, you'd best behave in Potions," the Slytherin said, winking.

"Behave as in any class," Harrie said. "You're safe here at Hogwarts."

For a certain value of 'safe', of course, considering all the problems there had been over the years, the troll attack, the basilisk issue, the Dementors, the undercover Death Eater, and even Umbridge, who counted as a danger all by herself. But they were safe from Snape.

As the evening went on, some students, already done with their desserts, started leaving the table. Harrie lingered, served herself another slice of Christmas cake, chatting with Mathilda. Eventually, the Hufflepuff declared she had secrets to uncover and departed as well, tiny bell jingling atop her hat.

Harrie took one last slice of cake, smiled at the first-year Hufflepuff who was piling up so much various desserts on his plate it was starting to look like a tower, apparently determined to bring it all back to his dormitory.

"I don't think that's gonna hold," Harrie remarked.

The boy eyed his plate, frowning.

"What if I walk really slowly?" he said.

"Do you want some help? I'll carry a plate."

That got her a confused look.

"But... you're Harrie Potter."

"I'm not sure I get your meaning," she said.

"Don't you have better things to do?"

"Than helping someone? Never."

The boy smiled. He quickly put half of the tower of desserts on a second plate, handed it to Harrie, and off they went toward the Hufflepuff common room. Thankfully it wasn't very far from the Great Hall, and there were no stairs to climb (even halved, Harrie's desserts tower was leaning dangerously).

"You meant what you said about Professor Snape earlier, didn't you?" the boy said. "He wouldn't hurt us."

"Never. And he'd put his life on the line to protect you."

"Really?"

"Yes. One time, me and my friends were threatened by a werewolf, and Snape used his body as a shield, even though we hadn't been very nice to him just earlier. You can trust him."

The boy nodded.

"He's just so different from the other teachers," he said.

"He is," Harrie agreed, hiding her smile.

They reached the entrance to the common room, and Harrie took her leave there, satisfied that there was one less first-year afraid of Snape at Hogwarts.

Back at the Gryffindor Tower, she had a shower, then she slipped on a particular set of bra and knickers, lacy and green. Once again, she didn't find herself very appealing in green, but she knew Snape would. She put on her normal pyjamas so the underwear would come as a real surprise, and she headed for the dungeons.

Snape was seated at this desk and busy with papers, a focused look on his face.

"Really?" she said. "You're working on Christmas?"

"Today is a day like any other, Potter."

"Snape, come on. Lighten up a little."

He rolled his eyes, set his quill aside and got up. Approaching her, he gave her a keen look, almost like he was trying to read her thoughts.

"Did you have fun discussing my secrets with your friends?"

"How—"

"I read lips," he said. "A useful skill for a spy. Never assume any conversation held in public is private."

"I didn't say anything incriminating. If anything, I defended you. And besides, we only started talking about you because you were looking at me."

"Defending me is incriminating by nature for you, Potter."

She shrugged.

"Not necessarily. People will think I've matured and can see past my hatred of you. That could have happened. Our relationship used to be worse in the previous years, and then it improved. Sort of."

He made a small noise that probably meant he was conceding her the point.

"Anyway," she said. "I have something for you."

The underwear was one present, but she had another as well, a more traditional one. She pulled it out of her pocket, offering it to Snape. It was a snow globe, the glass holding a miniature potion laboratory, every detail exquisitely rendered, a cauldron bubbling in the center, a ladle stirring the brew as fumes escaped forth in smoky plumes. Instead of wrapping paper, there was a simple green bow around it.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"We are not in a relationship, Potter," he said sharply.

"I know that."

"I am not going to court you."

"I don't want to be courted," she growled. "It's just a Christmas present, it doesn't—"

"I don't want a Christmas present!" he shouted.

She flinched from the volume of his voice. He was staring at her as if she were holding a knife to his throat, and he expected her to slice away at any moment.

"You have expectations," he said, calmer, colder. "I won't entertain them."

I don't, she wanted to say. I don't, I don't. But it wasn't true.

"Other people can have this. Gifts, tenderness and... care. We can't. Not us." His eyes shone with brittle rage, cracking through the ice. "I thought you understood, Potter."

"I do, but—"

"Not us!"

He made a sweeping arm gesture, perhaps to emphasize his point, or to dissuade her from coming closer. At the same moment, Harrie moved her arm, and his hand knocked into hers, violently. The snow globe went flying. It tumbled through the air, landed on the ground, shattering there in a mess of fake snowflakes and wet snow, tiny fragments scattering everywhere.

They both froze for a second, looking at the disaster.

"A proper place for your gift," Snape said, sneering.

Then he had disappeared into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Harrie sighed.

"Reparo," she said, pointing her wand at the floor.

The snow globe reformed itself, perfectly. Harrie picked it up, placed it on the desk. She was leaving it here, and fuck it. Snape could always shatter it again if he wanted.

"I was wearing sexy underwear!" she screamed at the door.

She wrapped herself in her cloak and left. All her happiness had evaporated, replaced by sad bitterness and a sense of futility. What had she been thinking, giving a Christmas present to Snape? It implied feelings, and he hated feelings. She should have predicted his reaction, should have stuck to the sexy underwear only. He wouldn't have minded that present.

But this was so stupid! Such a disproportionate reaction over a simple snow globe. Such anger. Anger in the face of love, and Harrie wanted to go back, surge into his bedroom, and shake him, ask him why he was like this. She was afraid too, of what she was feeling for him, but they could have faced it together.

She slipped back into her dormitory, into her cold bed, and she slept alone.

She didn't see Snape at all the next day. He was absent at meal time, and she didn't seek him out. She slept alone again, taking the sleeping draught so she wouldn't have nightmares.

In the morning, she lazed around in bed, got up around eleven. It had snowed heavily during the night, and Hogwarts was covered in a pretty glittering white blanket. Harrie spent her afternoon outside, enjoying the weather.

She was walking along the frozen edge of the lake when there was a soft hoot above her head. An owl she didn't know fluttered close, then dropped a package into her hands. A late Christmas gift? Harrie unwrapped the brown paper that protected the parcel. She groaned at the revealed item.

It was Luna's copy of Courted by the Half-Blood Prince. Harrie had completely forgotten Luna had promised to send it during the holidays. There was a small card with it. Harrie squinted at the words. Luna's spindly handwriting was not easy to decipher.

Happy holidays, Harrie! Enjoy being courted.

Harrie considered throwing the book into the lake. But the lake was currently frozen, and the book would have just stayed there, on the surface, which wasn't satisfying at all, so she kept it with her.

As she was almost to the castle, she met Mathilda, who was busy building a snowman by herself.

"Why does your snowman have six arms?"

"It's not a snowman, Harrie! It's the giant squid."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't recognize it."

Mathilda grinned.

"Have you ever met him?" she said.

"No, never," Harrie said, wondering why Mathilda had chosen to say 'met him' and not 'seen him', like one could meet the giant squid and have tea with him.

"Well, that's more or less what he looks like."

"When did you meet him?"

"It's a secret," Mathilda replied in a very serious voice.

"Of course."

She glanced at Harrie's hands.

"What are you reading?"

"A stupid romance novel. It's badly written and the hero is an arsehole."

"Ugh, romance," Mathilda said, scrunching up her nose. "I don't understand romance. It's a waste of time!"

Right now, Harrie was inclined to agree.

"It's complicated," she said, with a sigh.

Mathilda gave her a long look.

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked.

"I'm... not sure. Maybe."

"Mum keeps asking if I've met a boy yet. Or a girl. As if I have to fall in love, just because I'm growing up. It's annoying."

She shaped a seventh arm for her snow squid, this one with a double claw at the end, stuck it on its left side.

"I don't have time for love. I mean, the romantic kind."

"You don't have to make time," Harrie said.

"But don't you think it's weird, that I don't care? That's all the girls in my year are talking about, you know. Who fancies whom, and who kissed whom, and..." She grimaced. "...and I don't care, at all."

"It's not weird. It's who you are, and it's just as valid as anything else."

Mathilda nodded, relief flashing in her eyes.

"Plus, it's gonna save you some serious headaches," Harrie said.

"Oh. Do you have a headache right now? A... love headache?"

"It's a secret," Harrie said, smiling despite herself.

"Liquorice?" Mathilda offered.

Harrie gladly took two sticks, and ate them on the way to the Gryffindor common room. She threw the book on her bed, then threw herself on the bed too, and ended up opening the book and reading it.

Half an hour in, her heart hurt. The Prince was so clearly Snape, in every single bloody way. He was smart, he was sarcastic, and he was a dominant arsehole who was great in bed and hid his feelings. Harrie didn't even get to read about his sentiments for the heroine clearly, because the narrative was from her point of view, and she could only guess at what the Prince was feeling (how fucking familiar).

They were enemies on opposite sides of a war, and every time they met, they argued, sometimes to the point of drawing blood, and then they fucked. And the sex scenes weren't even bad. The style differed from Snape's other books, which made them actually readable, and even... even enjoyable. Yes, all right, Harrie was getting turned on reading them.

"You should yield," the Prince said, tapping the tip of his wand under her chin. "Yield, and I'll show mercy."

"You're not capable of mercy, you fiend," she spat.

"For you, my Lady, I might be."

She squirmed under him, infuriated by the ease with which he has disarmed her. His black eyes gleamed as he watched her struggle, uselessly.

"Yield," he repeated, a growl edging the word.

"Never."

"Then I'll make you yield," he said, and his mouth met hers with bruising force.

She bucked up, crying out in protest, a devastating pulse of heat hitting between her legs. She could never resist him. Whenever they kissed, whenever they touched, desire sparked, and she succumbed to it. To him.

This time was no different. Two minutes later, he was inside her, his thick cock filling her perfectly. They moaned into each other's mouth as they moved together, wands forgotten, sides forgotten. Seeking their mutual pleasure in a frenzy, their hands roamed and clutched, their hips rocked, their bodies strained, Alpha and Omega united as they should be.

"Please," she gasped, desperately, on a wet, ragged exhale. " Please..."

An outsider might have thought she was begging him to stop . Nothing could have been further from the truth.

"You'll feel it when I come inside you," he growled. "My Omega, taking my seed."

He pumped within her tight channel, hard and fast, his balls slapping her slit. As she squirmed and moaned, he insinuated a hand between them, found her clit, teased it until she climaxed around him, crying out.

"There you are. That's it, milk my cock, good girl."

He grabbed her thighs, slammed himself inside her again and again, and when he came he sank his teeth in her gland, claiming her, linking them together forever.

"Mate," she sighed, jerking in pleasure.

"My mate," he purred.

No one and nothing would ever force them apart.

Harrie turned the pages faster and faster, hoping for a happy ending, knowing there wouldn't be one. Finally she reached the last scene. The Prince was killed in a duel against the evil chancellor, his throat cut, and the heroine found him as he was taking his last gurgling breaths. He died looking into her eyes.

...and her heart broke, for she had lost her Alpha, her mate, the only love of her life. Thanks to his sacrifice, she would live on, but she would do so alone.

The end.

"What the fuck is this ending?" Harrie said, throwing the book away.

She was even more pissed off at Snape now. And she missed him.

She missed him.

Did that mean...

"I love him," she said, just to try it out.

It didn't sound wrong.

"Oh fuck, I love him. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

She hid her face in her hands, was so thankful she was alone in her dormitory, could make a fool out of herself in private.

"Oh no, what do I do?"

Her solution was to take her sleeping draught and escape into sleep. She would figure out something tomorrow.

She woke in the middle of the night, confused. She was breathing too fast. Her entire body felt too hot, and she was sweating so much the sheets were wet. With a groan, she sat up. Pain stabbed at her, from two places. Between her legs, which ripped a soft keen from her throat, and on her neck.

On the side of her neck.

She brushed trembling fingers against her scent gland, winced at the flash of pain that followed, a burning throb that echoed between her thighs.

Fuck.

She was going into heat.

Chapter Text

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Calm down, Harrie. Calm down.

She closed her eyes, tried to slow her breathing, tried to get the pain under control, those twin aches that throbbed fiercely on her neck and between her legs. Slowly, she forced herself to stretch, moved until she was sitting on the edge of her bed. Counted to ten, inhaled. Counted to ten, exhaled.

Did it again.

It didn't help.

Her breath was rushing out of her lungs, her heart was hammering in her chest, her skin felt clammy and feverish, one size too tight. In fact, she probably had a fever. Wasn't this what happened when Omegas went into heat? God, she had read the chapter covering this in the book, but that had been weeks ago, and she couldn't seem to focus.

Her thoughts swirled, starting and stopping, a tangle of half-formed ideas, none of them clear. It felt like she was just a body, and a malfunctioning one at that.

She needed to... needed to do something. She couldn't stay in her bed. She couldn't stay alone. She needed an Alpha.

No, she needed her Alpha.

Yes, that was it.

Soon, she would only want sex, would only think about sex, would be consumed by her need for sex. And Snape... Snape could give her that. It was just sex, and if she didn't get it, she was endangering herself. She could die. So yes, he would help her.

The current state of things between them hardly mattered.

She got up, moaned at the sudden heat surging in her belly. It wasn't the good kind of heat. This one hurt, felt raw, serrated, sawing at her nerves. Pain, with no relief.

Why did it have to hurt so much?

Teeth gritted, she grabbed her wand and her cloak, stumbled out of the dormitory. She left the Gryffindor Tower, went down a first flight a stairs, a second, a third... She was panting, pain throbbing inside her, the need for her Alpha mounting. He wasn't far. She just had to reach the dungeons. She could make it.

Another flight of stairs.

Every step sent ripples reverberating through her, concentrating between her legs, where she could feel an atrocious need that was getting impossible to ignore. She was burning up, suffocating inside her cloak, goosebumps crawling across her skin. Her head swam, her heartbeat fluttering as if in panic.

Maybe it was panic, of a sort. Her body was on the verge of something monumental, and she was alone. Alone! Where was her Alpha? Why wasn't he here?

A soft mewl sliced through the silence, a plea for help. She bit her lips to stop more from coming. She couldn't make noise!

She had to reach the dungeons.

Reach Snape, and everything would be fine. He'd take care of her.

Come on, Harrie, move.

One hand curled into the cloak, the other holding her wand, she took a step, and another, and another.

It hurt.

It hurt, deep, belly-clawing agony, and she wanted—she needed—

"God," she groaned, taking another step, her legs shaking.

On which floor was she now? The third? The second? She couldn't tell, her head throbbing, shadows and light swirling in her vision.

One more step, one more, one more...

At the end of the stairs, her legs failed, and she found herself sitting down against her will. Panting under the cloak, she rubbed her thighs together to stave off the scorching, unfulfilled need. It burned everywhere now, a raging fire that had made its home in her, down to the molecular level.

Alpha. She needed her Alpha!

"Snape," she muttered, clinging to what few scrapes of rational thought remained. "Severus... please..."

He couldn't hear her from here. Lifting trembling, clenched fingers, she thrust her wand out, focusing on a good, happy memory. Being in bed with him, warm and safe. His hand in her hair, his nose against her cheek, his body heat enveloping her...

"Expecto Patronum," she said, her voice a croaking whisper.

Her doe didn't materialize. Nothing happened at all, not even the silvery mist of an uncorporeal Patronus. The pain was too much, the need was too much, she couldn't focus.

"Please," she whimpered, curling in on herself.

Breathing shallowly under the cloak, knees drawn up against her chest, hands balled into fists, she rocked back and forth, holding onto ever-fleeing reason. She wouldn't scream for her Alpha, no. She had to get up, she had to move, find Snape, find him...

Need him, need him, need him.

Animal desire was applying vice-like pressure to every part of her. Her heart wouldn't slow down. It felt like it was gonna pound out of her chest any second now. Flashes of acute pain stabbed at her scent gland, and burned burned burned between her legs. When she swallowed again, she tasted blood, her throat scraping painfully.

Please, Severus, please...

He wasn't there. He wouldn't come.

She was alone, and it was agony, it was fire, it was unbearable torment...

"Harrie? Is that you?"

That was Mathilda's voice.

Harrie opened her eyes, blinking through her tears. The Hufflepuff was in the left corridor, several meters away, looking around with a frown on her face.

"Harrie, are you in trouble? You sound like you're in trouble, but I can't see you."

Harrie pulled down the cloak, made a sound. It was small, and pitiful, but instantly Mathilda pivoted toward her.

"Snape," Harrie said, from trembling lips. "Get Snape. I... I need him."

Mathilda, bless her, simply nodded and said, "All right, I'll get him". No questions asked, no time wasted. She ran down the stairs, heading for the dungeons.

Harrie groaned, chest heaving, that harrowing need scoring its vicious claws across her belly. She wanted to be filled. Wanted to be taken, to be fucked. Soon, she told herself. Her Alpha was coming. Her Alpha would be here soon, it would be all right...

Minutes passed, Harrie hating each one more.

"Alpha," she whined. "Alpha, Alpha..."

Then he was here. Finally, he was here! His scent washed over her, and she mewled, her core clenching furiously.

"Severus..."

"I'm here," he said, close, so close, putting a hand on her forehead. "I'm here, it's going to be all right..."

She heard him mutter a couple of spells. Why was he casting spells now? There was no time for magic. She needed him! Needed his cock inside her. She tried to touch him, but her hands were tangled up in her cloak, and the more she tried to free herself, the more tangled they got. She whined, communicating her frustration.

Suddenly she was being lifted into Snape's arms. Nuzzling her face into his chest, she inhaled his scent, moaning. Alpha was here. Alpha was strong. Alpha wanted her.

There were voices, talking, talking. Mathilda, Harrie remembered. She was still here.

"That secret isn't mine to keep," she was saying.

Snape replied something, and then after one more exchange, he said, "Obliviate".

No more voices. Snape was walking, taking her somewhere. Harrie moaned, squirming in his arms.

"Alpha..."

"Yes," Snape growled. "Yes, Alpha will take care of you."

He held her tighter, and it hurt, but it wasn't tight enough. Being deposited into his bed wasn't enough either. She grasped at him, mewled happily when he fell on top of her. The weight of his body felt too right. She still needed more.

"Need you," she told him, her hands going between his legs, attacking the buttons in the way.

He grasped her jaw, pushed something against her lips. The rim of a potion bottle clicked against her teeth.

"Drink," he said.

She shook her head. She didn't want to drink, she wanted to get fucked. Wanted him inside her, wanted him, him, him...

"Harrie, listen to me. You need to drink this. Drink, and it will please me. Don't you want to please your Alpha?"

Of course she wanted to please her Alpha. She drank, even as her hands clutched at the outline of his cock, fingers shaking with need.

"Good girl. Good Omega, perfect..."

A long, low whine left her mouth. Heat throbbed in her gland, between her legs, her body ablaze from lust. It hurt, it hurt to need him this much. His hands were on her, ripping away her pyjamas, caressing her curves, and when his fingers dipped at the core of her, she squealed, an electric jolt burning up her spine.

Yes, yes, that, and more. She needed her Alpha. needed to be full. And he knew what she needed.

Pinning her to the bed with his body, he guided his cock into her, feeding her every inch. She opened for him, accepting the pressure, the girth, the length, taking it all. He filled her to the brim, and she keened, ecstatic, stretched by her Alpha's cock, her slickness drenching his shaft.

Finally, finally.

He burned inside her, but this was the right kind of burn, the one that made her feel alive. His thick cockhead pressed up against her cervix, his length forced deep, leaking pre-cum there, right at the end of her channel.

"Mine," he said, and his tongue swiped over her scent gland, a searing hot contact.

Her thighs tensed, muscles twitching. Her hands were on his chest, no, clawing at his back, no, above her head, wrists captured in one of his hands, and then she didn't care one bit where her hands were because he was moving.

One sharp snap of his hips, followed by another, and another. He set an aggressive, vicious pace, fucking her deep and hard, keeping her speared on his cock continuously. Spikes of hot pleasure assaulted her center as his hard shaft rubbed along her inner walls. She gasped and wheezed, tremors in her thighs, in her arms, in her torso, snaking under her skin, reaching her to the bone, suffusing her with bliss.

Her entire body jolted from the force of Snape's thrusts. He was pounding her into the bed, the headboard smacking the wall repeatedly. Her cunt fluttered and clenched, dripping slick all over his pistoning cock, and pleasure ravaged her, acute, all-encompassing.

He licked her gland again, then his lips slid lower, to her throat. He sucked and nipped at the skin, laved at her pulse point, painting possessive lines of heat wherever his tongue touched, even as his cock drove in and out of her at that infernal rhythm. His free hand skimmed down her right side, reached her hip, curled around a thigh, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. She did so, a soft, reedy cry leaving her lips.

Less space between them, more heat, and Harrie whined, wracked by a series of shudders, her pulse stuttering.

"Good Omega," Snape said, every inch of his hard cock throbbing inside her, where it belonged.

"Yes, Alpha, Alpha..."

His hand was on her throat, warm palm pressing down, thumb slotted under her jaw. She made a noise that meant yes, please, yes. He didn't do anything else, didn't squeeze or press down enough to constrict her breathing. He left his hand on her throat, a possessive weight, and he kept fucking her, taking and giving.

Taking her body, giving pleasure, so much of it.

Her vision swam with white pinpricks, her spine alive with electricity, with heat, with a tremor that felt like it would shake her apart.

"Oh, oh, I'm—"

"Do," Snape growled, slamming deep again.

She came, but there was no peak. It was just pleasure. Full, bursting pleasure, lasting and lasting, pouring into every part of her, forcing whines and gasps from her, and then she blinked, vision clear.

Black eyes, black eyes, black eyes.

A breath.

She flexed her hands, still trapped above her head. Snape squeezed her wrists, lips peeling back into a snarl. Or a smile. Or maybe a look of raw pleasure, she wasn't sure. Her world narrowed down to the glint of his teeth, to dark eyes, to the thick cock that split her cunt open on each sure thrust.

He was ramming deep, in merciless strokes, skin lewdly slapping skin. Noises were knocked out of her with each plunge of him inside her, broken inhales and tiny gasps. She was being battered by pleasure, again, pleasure, never stopping.

"Alpha," she slurred. "Alpha, Alpha..."

"Say my name," he ordered.

"Severus..."

He growled against her lips. His hips drove into her, once more, twice more. Then he ground down, his cock rubbed against a spot inside her that was nothing short of magnificent, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. There was only heavy, unrelenting pressure, her nerves blazing, her body screaming.

She arched into Snape with desperation, bucking, an animal wail wrenched from her throat. Euphoria burst in her veins, honey thick, bleeding brilliant light. It took reason with it, it took time, it took the very foundations of reality.

She floated, detached, transfixed, dying every second, reborn every second, then came out the other side some moments later, or perhaps after an age had passed.

She was on her belly, Snape behind her, on her. In her, still, the thickness and hardness of him at home in her cunt. His fingers were in her mouth, hooked into the side of her jaw, and he was grunting with every thrust, hoarse sounds of pleasure. She listened, her body reacting on its own, shivering and spasming.

She had no voice left, no thoughts left aside from yes, yes, yes, and good, good, good.

An Omega being fucked by her Alpha, need fulfilled.

Coming.

Burning pleasure, bottomless, and she kept falling and falling and falling.

Coming.

Her cunt rippling, squeezing, milking, grasping her Alpha's cock, that perfect cock that made her complete.

Coming.

A never-ending cycle of bliss, where time had no meaning, and only the dance of their bodies mattered.

Until...

Until he snapped his hips forward, and suddenly there was more than his cock inside her. Reality reshaped itself around the delicious, excruciating pressure of her Alpha's knot. She cried out, a lance of searing pleasure buried to the heart of her. Limp, trembling, she lay still as he worked his knot deeper.

One more push, a hard one as he held her by the hips, and it was all in. Incoherent mewls bubbled from her lips. He murmured soothing words, telling her she was doing so well, that she was being such a good girl, that it would be all right. His cock pulsed, spurting wet heat in heavy bursts, bathing her inner tissues. She clenched tight, every nerve alight, her entire body one blissful vibration.

"Take it, Omega," her Alpha was saying as he filled her with his hot cum. "Take my seed, take it..."

Was she squirming? Was she crying? She couldn't tell. She only knew of her Alpha's knot, and how right it felt.

And then, there was an orgasm.

That one she could tell, because it struck with eviscerating force, scooping out her insides and setting them on fire. Everything glowed white-hot, the color of ecstasy. Harrie said things, or rather tried to say things, drowning in her words, dying again.

Her world was heat, was pleasure, was her Alpha. Only him, ever.

She was floating, again.

This time, the abyss yawning under her surged, swallowing her whole.

*

She was dreaming of sex.

Brutal, hard sex, the man keeping her pinned down as he forced her to take his cock. In the dream, she needed it that way. There was a sense of desperation permeating her thoughts, and if the man stopped, she was sure she would die. She wanted to tell him he couldn't stop, but all that left her mouth were whimpers.

"Alpha... Alpha..."

Her eyes fluttered open. She was too hot again, her skin flushed and sweaty. Pinpricks of heat were pulsing in her belly. Groaning, she pushed away the blanket, looking around for...

"Alpha..."

God, why was it her only thought? She shook her head, attempting to focus. Snape was here anyway, close, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Here," he said, offering her a potion. "Drink."

She drank without question. The liquid was cool, felt like a refreshing wave as it went down her throat. She breathed easier, the demanding heat between her legs easing.

"Snape," she said, sighing.

"That should keep the confusion at bay for a moment. How are you feeling?"

His black eyes were trained on her, concern shining in their depths. She was naked, and in his bed, and she was...

"I'm in heat," she said.

"Unfortunately, yes. You are."

Groaning, she rubbed her face against his sleeve, inhaling his scent.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Oh, I'm still dreaming," she said, with a little laugh.

"No, you're very much awake," he replied, sliding a hand in her hair, carding through her curls.

"But you're nice."

"I'm taking care of my Omega."

She squinted at him, not daring to hope. Her thoughts still lacked clarity, were still half-swamped by that vague, insistent need between her thighs and the heat under her skin.

"I thought we couldn't have care?"

He seized her chin in his hand, directed her gaze toward the bedside table. There, sitting beside the alarm clock, sat her snow globe, intact and raining magical snow upon the tiny potions laboratory.

"Oh," Harrie said.

"Some care is inevitable, I suppose. Our little secret."

"Secret," she mumbled happily.

And then a spike of fear to her heart, as suddenly she remembered what being in heat also meant. Exceptional fertility, and he had come inside her, and—

"I gave you a contraception potion," Snape said. "Specially brewed for an Omega in heat. You're safe."

"Safe?"

"Yes. Trust me, Harrie, a pregnancy is the furthest wish from my mind at the moment. That potion will have some unpleasant effects, and your next period will be more painful than usual, but it works."

"Safe."

She wiggled closer to him, growled at the turn her thoughts were taking. His cock inside her, and his seed, and... well, she was in heat. It couldn't be helped.

"How did you know I needed you?" she asked.

She remembered waking up in her bed, feverish and needy, and she remembered trying to get to him, collapsing, and being stuck somewhere at the bottom of a staircase, with not enough strength to move.

"Miss Walker found you. She came to get me."

"So Mathilda knows?"

"No, I Obliviated her. No one will know. The official story will be that you have Dragon Pox and that you have to stay in my quarters so I can treat you. It's a dangerous disease to contract as an adult. You'll need round-the-clock care."

"And I can't be in the infirmary, because..."

"It's too contagious," he said. "I'm immune, I had it as a child."

"Is that true?" she asked, grabbing his hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Yes. You should always base your lies in truth."

His fingers were long, pale, and beautiful. She brought the tip of one to her mouth, licked it, then started sucking on it. Her mind was fizzy, bursting with static, thoughts tangling in need.

"Sorry," she said. "Sorry, I can't stop... I... It's..."

"Stop apologizing, you silly girl. Take what you need."

Oh well, in this case. She moved to her knees, undid his trousers, grabbed his hard cock and sat on it. Ah, so much better. Groaning, she rocked her hips. It soothed the pain, soothed the need, soothed the voice inside her that was crying out for her Alpha.

Snape's hands came up around her waist as he shifted under her, bringing them closer, until she could ride him easily. She bounced on him, up and down, the drag of his cock against her inner tissues sparking hot pleasure.

"What about Dumbledore and McGonagall?" she said. "You'll have to tell them, won't you?"

"I already did."

"So they know I'm in your bed. They know... we're having sex."

It didn't bother her. She only wished the circumstances of them finding out would have been different. And she didn't want them thinking Snape was taking advantage of her, didn't want them worrying about her.

"A first heat is a very severe condition," Snape said. "You could die if untreated, and for an unbonded Omega, the only proper treatment is sex. You would have needed an Alpha anyway. I'm providing medical help, and this is how they see it."

She snorted.

"Medical help. With your dick."

"Yes, Harrie. With my dick."

She rode him in silence for a few minutes, clenching around him, got to an orgasm that was fleeting and almost unsatisfying. Pausing for a second, she leaned forward, licked Snape's throat. No, that wasn't it.

"I need you to lick me," she said.

"In a moment. We should finish talking while you're relatively clear-headed."

"What else is there to discuss? I'm in heat, I'm gonna be in heat for a week, we're going to fuck day and night, sex, sex, sex, let's get on with it."

He gripped her chin, his eyes sweeping over her face, then set a chaste kiss upon her lips.

"I need your consent. For everything I'm gonna do to you."

"You have it. Of course you have it." She kissed him as well, licking his lips, not so chastely. "Why would you ever imagine anything different?"

"I'm not taking consent for granted, Harrie. Especially yours."

The softness of his tone made her heart flutter. She hugged him, her caring Alpha, kissed him harder.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded, giving her a satisfied smile. Her scent gland throbbed. She scratched at it, wincing when the pain echoed in her cunt, even stuffed full of Snape's cock. It wasn't enough that she was sitting on a cock. Her Alpha needed to be fucking her, hard.

"Do you want to wear a heat collar?" Snape said. "A collar to protect your scent gland," he explained when faced with her frown. "So I don't bite you accidentally. It's a common item for unbonded Omegas."

"You wouldn't bite me."

"No. But you'd feel safer. Reason tends to desert your brain in the thick of your heat."

She considered it. Deep down, what she truly wanted was for him to bite her. Yet she knew now wasn't the time to ask. And a collar... a collar could be good. Would feel good around her throat.

"I trust you, Severus. I know you wouldn't bite me. All the same, yes, I'd like to wear a collar."

"Open the bedside table drawer," he said.

She leaned left to do so, grabbed the only thing that was in that drawer: a leather collar, black, with a big, thick patch on one side, designed to fit over an Omega's scent gland and prevent a bite.

"I bought one for you weeks ago, hoping you would never need to use it," Snape said.

"You were so prepared... but you missed something."

He raised an eyebrow. She dangled the collar under his nose.

"It needs to be green," she said with a smile.

"Ah, of course. My mistake."

He grabbed his wand, pointed it at the collar, muttered a spell. The black leather turned green, that exact Slytherin shade.

"Also there should be written Property of the Half-Blood Prince on it," she said.

His cock twitched inside her.

"No."

"Oh, come on! I could tell you liked that."

"No, Harrie."

She pouted.

"Then your initials, at least. Please, Sev. I'm yours, and for the coming week, I want to feel it. I want to wear a physical reminder of it."

He brushed a finger against the collar, hesitantly. She held his gaze, squeezed her inner muscles around him.

"If you don't do it, I will," she said.

"You don't even know where your wand is."

"I'll use yours."

She trailed a finger up the length of his wand, smiled.

"I bet it would let me cast this one spell."

He tapped the end of his wand to the collar, narrowed his eyes in focus. There was a flash of magic. Harrie watched as three letters appeared on the collar, engraved in silver on the green leather. HBP.

"Is that satisfying?" he drawled.

"Yes."

He set his wand down, took the collar from her, fastened it around her throat. A burst of adrenaline hit her veins. She touched her throat, the leather encircling it, the three letters that she could feel under her finger, announcing that she belonged to Snape. Yes. Yes, that was right.

She belonged to her Alpha.

"Now fuck me," she said, grabbing his shoulders.

He flipped them over, rolling her under him, and began pumping into her, brutally fast. She whimpered her pleasure, spreading her legs wide, tilting her head back. She could feel the collar on each inhale, the light pressure of the leather at her throat. Snape was looking at it as his hips worked, forcing her cunt open with his thick cock. His eyes had a slight glaze, something a bit feral to them, something that didn't belong to civilization but to the darkest, deepest nights at the dawn of time, when it was kill or be killed and nothing else. Harrie knew then that she was his, and that he'd kill anyone who said otherwise.

She came with a hiss, her eyes fluttering, her brain shocked by a surge of pleasure. Her body strained under Snape's, who only fucked her harder. His hips hammered into hers, his nails digging into the soft parts of her thighs, where it would leave marks. Then, as Harrie was coming down from her climax, breathing in high little pants, he dipped one hand between her thighs and found her clit with the broad pad of his thumb.

Lightning, striking her head-on, burning along every nerve. She squealed, her cunt gushing out more slick, her hips jerking.

"Alpha..."

He rumbled praises, pressed his cock deeper inside her. Oh no, not his cock. He was making her take his knot again. She mewled happily, euphoric at being that full again. Oh, so, so stretched, it was delicious, the sensation blinding, taking her breath away. And then his cum, flooding her, spilling hot and thick inside her clenching channel.

She scrabbled at his shoulders, jerking in time with the pulses of his cock, every thought flattened by the sheer breadth and weight of her pleasure. It went on and on, the steady throb of his cock inside her, the thrumming, increasing pressure, the ever growing slickness. She was babbling, his name, and Alpha, and fuck me breed me fuck me, helpless pleas that she was barely aware of.

Her mind was swimming in rapture, her body seizing under the bulk of Snape's weight. He kept her still, and he kept her beneath him, making sure she took every drop of cum.

"This is what you need, my pretty little Omega. Getting fucked nice and full."

Moments bled into each other. Harrie lost count of her orgasms, dropped into a haze of repeating, mind-numbing pleasure.

On, and on, and on, until she was a quivering mess of twitching, overstrained muscles.

Snape slipped out of her, moved her to her belly, gripped her hips and entered her again. He shoved deep inside her, grunting from exertion, fucking her in long, languid strokes. She panted, barely conscious at this point. Nearly sated, too.

She just needed... needed...

Cum erupting inside her, thick streams of it, filling her aching cunt. Hot, hot, overflowing, dripping down her thighs, to the bed under her.

Her eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving her mouth, all her muscles going lax.

She slept.

Woke up some hours later, needing sex again, her cunt twitching hungrily. Her Alpha was there, and he took care of her, burying his cock inside her, holding her down and fucking her. She came twice, a first time crying out his name, and the second sobbing in pleasure, whimpering into the pillow. Once her swollen, slick cunt was full of her Alpha's cum, she felt better, rational thought returning.

Afterward, Snape gave her food.

"I'm not hungry," she said, groaning, pushing the plate back.

"You will eat. I'm not asking, Harrie. Eat."

She ate one half of a potato, set down her fork.

"Eat everything."

"But I'm not hungry."

Snape gave a sort of sigh, sat near her, made her grab her fork, spear the other half of the potato. He brought it to her her lips, pushed it into her mouth, watched as Harrie chewed.

"The hormones from your heat are wrecking havoc on your body," he said, in the tone he used for his lectures in class. "They're making you think all you need is sex. You cannot listen to them."

"Mmm. I have to listen to you instead?"

"Exactly."

So she ate, even though she was sure she didn't need it, filling her stomach with food that tasted like nothing.

"Good Omega," Snape said when she was done. "I'm very pleased."

She smiled, her heart all aflutter. Alpha was satisfied. Alpha would fuck her again soon.

And he did, after getting ready for bed, changing into his pyjamas. He draped his body over hers, pinning her to the bed, and he took her with violent, jarring thrusts, making her feel every inch of that gloriously thick cock of his. She moaned under him, hiccuping broken sounds of pleasure.

"Oh, Alpha... Alpha, fuck, nnngh..."

Her eyes rolled back, her body jolting. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking hard.

"Do you need my knot again? Mmm? Is this what you need, Harrie? Do you need my cum again, enough that it leaks out of you?"

"Please, please, yes..."

"You're so pliable when you're like this. You'd agree to anything, wouldn't you?"

The dark undercurrent in his voice had Harrie's stomach twisting.

"Anything," she said, in a strangled groan.

He spanked her, his hand meeting her arse in a hard slap, and while she flinched, her cunt spasming, he slammed his knot inside her, in a single, burning, impossible thrust.

"Ohgodohgodohgod—"

She whined, stuffed so full so fast she nearly passed out. Snape grunted, his knot swelling, pumping searing hot seed inside her.

"That's right, take it. Such a good girl..."

"Yours," she gasped.

But he knew that, he knew that.

She fell asleep beneath him, his knot inside her. Woke sometimes in the night, too hot again, needing her Alpha's cock again. He was still inside her, soft, knot deflated. She moved her hips, whining, keening, and it didn't take long for him to harden. She fucked him as much as he fucked her, bucking furiously under him, almost fighting him until she reached a teeth-shattering climax that put her right back to sleep.

She dreamed of heat, of teeth in her throat and a dark voice that promised her to never leave.

In the morning, they fucked again, face to face. Once Snape had come inside her and on her, painting her skin with the white ropes of his cum, the burning desire that lived in her veins abated a degree.

She ate breakfast, while Snape stretched and did some cleaning.

"Are you gonna be okay?" she asked. "I'm, uh... asking a lot of you."

"I'm not yet geriatric, Harrie. I can handle a week of vigorous sex."

"All right," she said, smiling. "Sorry about, you know, the cramps. And the chafing."

"Both minor concerns compared to the sweet heat of your cunt."

It turned out she could blush while in heat. Who knew?

"Why did you end your book like that?" she said so they would stop talking about her cunt.

He cocked an eyebrow.

"I assume you're referring to Courted by the Half-Blood Prince?"

"Obviously. It's such a shit ending, Snape! He dies! And he doesn't even tell her he loves her!"

She angrily chewed on her crepe, glaring at him. He gave her a level look.

"The Prince isn't a good man. He doesn't deserve a happy ending."

Even with her mind half-scrambled by the heat, she knew he was really talking about himself.

"Yes, he does. And I want to give him one."

"This isn't about what you want."

She threw a pillow at him. He caught it, face impassive, and placed it back on the bed.

"Write a sequel," she demanded.

"No."

She threw the pillow again. This time it hit his side, bounced down to the floor.

"Write a sequel. I want a sequel. Write it now."

He retrieved the pillow, put it down next to her.

"As adorable as you look right now, trying to give me orders, I don't answer to you," he said.

She surged up, kissed him. A slow smile stretched his lips.

"At least tell me he loves her," she said.

"If you already know, does it need to be said?"

"Yes."

The black eyes searched her own, two chips of onyx, glittering, inscrutable.

"Why?" he said.

"Because that's how love works. It needs to be said."

"We'll disagree on that point," he said, and kissed her.

After that, she was too distracted to keep talking.

The day was a confused jumble of hours, some spent sleeping, some spent getting fucked by Snape. When there was no cock inside her, Harrie felt lethargic, and didn't have enough energy to do anything but lie there in the bed. She couldn't imagine being alone for her heat, not one second. She would have died from the agony of needing her Alpha, and if somehow she had managed to survive, she would have died from hunger or thirst. Even now, Snape had to coax her to eat and drink, promising her that would please him.

Some time in the evening, he forced her out of bed.

"Come on, up," he said, grabbing her under the shoulders.

"But why?" she whined.

"You need to take a shower."

"Do I?"

"Yes. There's a limit to Scourgify, and we've hit that limit."

She protested vaguely, but she felt he was right. She was filthy, with dried sweat and dried cum all over her. It just didn't seem to matter to her at the moment.

"I don't know..."

"I'll fuck you in the shower," Snape said, grabbing her arse and squeezing it.

"Oh, in that case..."

They had never showered together. Harrie liked it a lot. She liked sliding her palms over the wet expanse of Snape's chest, she liked his hands in her hair, petting and massaging, she liked the smell of his shower gel and most of all, she liked the cold of the tiles at her back and the hot spread of his cock inside her, sinking in inch by inch.

His arms hooked under her thighs, holding her open for him, he fucked her in long, driving strokes. She writhed as he snapped his hips forward, writhed and whined, asking for more. Asking for his knot.

"Patience, Harrie. What kind of Alpha would I be if I knotted you this soon? We've barely started."

She didn't care. She wanted his knot now.

"Now, now, now," she keened, her cunt spasming in desperate little twitches around his cock.

"No," he said, and smiled, slowing down his thrusts.

She scratched him, nails scoring his shoulders, heaved shuddering noises, her thighs jerking.

"Gonna kill you if you don't—oh, please, please—"

He set a measured pace, his length driving in and out, dripping pre-cum into her cunt. Somehow, she could feel that, feel the slow drip of thick liquid that wasn't quite what she wanted, what she craved, and that made it worse.

"Severus, fuck..."

His smile was cruel, was hot, was a thousand things in between.

"You're mine to use as I please, Harrie. Aren't you wearing a collar that says exactly that? That you're mine?"

She gulped, nodding, grinding her hips down on the hard shaft impaling her.

"Ah, ah, ah, Alpha—"

What was she trying to say? She didn't even remember. Words were deserting her, until there remained only the heat, and the build of pleasure inside her, of pressure, winding tighter and tighter. Snape's hands hurt, curled around her thighs, a bruising possession. His cock hurt too, forcing her to experience the very edge of bliss. She was sobbing, squirting out streams of slick, her body unable to contain the storm of sensations she was being subjected to.

"Can you come for me, Harrie? Can you come on my cock?"

There were fingers on her clit, rubbing, and a mouth at her ear, calling her a perfect Omega, and teeth, and—

Her orgasm was startling, a complete implosion. She bucked, convulsing, crying out as she curled in on herself. It didn't stop, and she was being fucked through it, through the spasms and the clenches, and then through the aftershocks, being fucked still as her body shook and trembled.

Breathless and dazed, she clung to Snape, her need for him the only clear thing in her mind.

He brought her back to bed and knotted her there. She made happy noises, went to sleep like that, full of her Alpha's knot and cum.

*

The days passed, in a haze of sweaty sex and hot pleasure.

They didn't talk much. Mostly she talked at him, telling him she needed him, begging for his cock and his knot. He talked when he fucked her, but she wasn't coherent enough to understand half of what he was saying, much less to be able to answer.

Sometimes, when her mind was somewhat clear, they managed to have short conversations.

"Write a sequel."

"I can't. The Prince died."

"I don't care. Make him live again."

"No."

"Write a sequel or I won't ever let you fuck me again."

"We both know that is the most useless threat ever."

"Snape. Write a sequel."

"Stop asking."

(She didn't stop asking.)

They had banal conversations, too, about their tastes in food and about moments of their past.

"Bananas? How can you hate bananas?"

"I just do. They're disgusting."

"No they're not. Clearly you've never had a good banana."

"The quality of the fruit is not the problem. Do cease to try and fix what you perceive as faults in me. It's tiring."

"I'm not trying to fix you. I want you to enjoy a banana."

"Spread your legs. I think I'd rather fuck you than carry on with this pointless conversation."

"Oh, all right."

(That happened more than a couple of times, Snape using sex to cut short conversations he didn't care for, but Harrie didn't mind.)

"In second year, when you dueled Lockhart, did you mean to knock him on his arse?"

"Of course I did."

"That was a very strong Expelliarmus."

"It can be wielded offensively in certain circumstances, as you saw that day."

"Yeah. Did you know it's my favorite spell? And you taught it to me."

"Only indirectly."

"Come on, take credit."

"For something I didn't mean to do? No."

"That's not very Slytherin of you."

"The hat told me I belonged in Gryffindor."

"God, Snape, that's the least believable thing you've ever said."

There was more sex, and more small talk, and more showers taken together. More feverish need rendering her incoherent. More breakfasts and lunches, Harrie complaining while she ate. More nights spent tangled up in each other, his knot locking them together.

Then, one morning, she woke, and her head was clear. Her body temperature was back to normal, her thoughts free from any sexual haze.

"I think my heat's over," she said to Snape.

He cast a handful of spells on her, studied the results, nodded.

"It is."

She ran a hand through her hair, gave him a sheepish smile.

"Um, thank you? It seems stupid to say it, but really, thank you. I'm pretty sure I'd be dead if you hadn't been there."

"It was, and I believe the phrase has never been used more appropriately, my pleasure."

"Yeah..."

She looked down at herself, at the rumpled mess of the sheets.

"It's going to be weird wearing clothes again," she said. "And leaving your bed. I mean, temporarily leaving your bed. I still want to sleep here. If that's okay with you?"

In truth, she knew he wanted her, but she had to hear it. That made it real.

"I would miss you otherwise," he simply said. "Ah, but the timing worked out perfectly. Classes start again tomorrow."

Harrie sighed, slumping back into his bed.

"Can you tell me about Dragon Pox so I can lie convincingly?"

"Of course."

She sent him a sly look.

"Can you do that while you're fucking me?"

He chuckled.

"Of course."

She spread her legs invitingly.

"Impress me, then, Alpha."

He did.

Chapter Text

Harrie was dicing her mandrake root, her brow furrowed in focus. Her knife easily cut into the soft root. She was making small slices, while keeping an eye on her potion. It was bubbling and turning more and more orange, which meant she'd soon need to add the mandrake.

There was a scarf around her throat, soft wool instead of the steady pressure of leather. She had reluctantly removed her collar, had put it back in Snape's drawer.

"I'm still yours," she had told him. "It's just more of a secret."

He had licked her gland, smiled, told her he didn't need a collar to know she was his.

She cut another slice of mandrake, lifted her head for a second, letting her eyes glide on Snape. He was moving about the classroom, silently judging everyone's efforts. Their gaze connected for a second, then he looked away, glancing at Neville's potion. He showed so much control. One insane week of wild sex at all hours of the day hadn't changed that. And Harrie still found it unreasonably hot.

"Psst, Harrie."

"What?" she whispered to Ron.

"Do you think my potion is orange enough? Should I add the mandrake?"

She leaned over to peer at his cauldron.

"Not yet. Try stirring it more."

He gave it a couple of energetic stirs, and the potion's color shifted to a clearer orange.

"Okay, now," Harrie murmured, while she stirred her own potion.

"Thanks, Harrie."

"Professor, Potter and Weasley are talking."

Harrie internally groaned, added her mandrake slices to her potion, pretending she hadn't heard Malfoy's drawling voice.

"Silence," Snape said, coldly.

He approached Harrie's desk, his robes sweeping menacingly behind him. She saw Ron hunch his shoulders, looking guilty. Focusing on her potion, she counted the numbers of stir. First they needed to be clockwise, ten of them, and then counterclockwise, another ten.

"Talking in class, Miss Potter, Mister Weasley?"

Harrie said nothing. Ron made a small nervous noise.

"I was just telling Harrie that I was, uh..."

"Yes?" Snape said, the word transformed into a weapon by his delivery of it, like a blade sunk deep into Ron's weak point.

"...that I was really glad she wasn't dead. Dragon Pox is scary."

"Be that as it may, you can express your relief at Miss Potter's continuing existence outside of my classroom. Five points from Gryffindor."

Malfoy chuckled as Snape moved away. Harrie finished stirring her potion, reduced the fire underneath. Now it needed to simmer for five minutes. While that went on, she stretched discreetly. She had a whole lot of cramps from her week. Snape had given her potions to help with the strain in her muscles, and she had taken a hot shower this morning, but she'd carry around some physical consequences for a time.

"Hey, Potter, were you scared? Did you cry? Did you whine for your mummy?"

She flipped off Malfoy behind her back, one quick gesture that barely seemed worth the effort. It was more out of habit than anything.

Her potion was almost done. It only needed a solid burst of heat at the end. She pointed her wand at the bottom of her cauldron, coaxing the flames back to life.

"I bet you cried. You cried like a little girl."

One, two, three seconds of high flame, and that was it. She vanished the fire, admired the sheen of her potion with a smile. That looked perfect.

Malfoy had moved on to making small noises that were probably supposed to emulate her crying. He stopped quickly when he didn't get any reactions from her, or possibly because Snape was coming back.

"Mister Malfoy, you usually deliver better work. What happened? Did you forget the final burn?"

Malfoy muttered an inaudible excuse. Snape's scent wrapped around Harrie as he moved close. He inspected her potion, gave a tiny nod.

"Potter. It looks like that Dragon Pox was beneficial to your neurons. How fortuitous."

"Fortuitous indeed, sir," she said with a shrug.

Snape's lips twitched. He turned away.

"Dragon Pox," Ron said after class, as they were heading to Herbology. "That's terrible. And you had to be in Snape's quarters, for a week! The horror."

"It itched awfully," Harrie said, putting on a grimace. "I had a fever the whole time, I was delirious, and Snape kept feeding me potions that tasted like vomit."

"You were lucky to come out of it with no after-effect," Hermione said.

"No doubt she's got mental after-effects from being around Snape for a week," Ron grumbled. "Can you imagine? Ugh."

"He probably wasn't happy either to have Harrie this close," Hermione said. "But I'm sure he was very professional about it."

"He was. I felt safe with him. I knew he wouldn't let me die."

Hermione smiled, directing a sly look at Harrie.

"What?" Harrie said.

"You've reached a stage where you trust Snape. I'm proud of you."

"It's not that unbelievable."

"Harrie, two years ago, you would have died rather than accept his help. You've grown!"

She had. And she more than trusted him. She loved him. She loved him, and she had yet to tell him. She was pretty sure he loved her, too, only he would never tell her.

After lunch, she used the Marauder's Map to locate Mathilda. The Hufflepuff was on top of the Astronomy Tower, sitting on the edge with her legs dangling in the void, singing under her breath, a song about a badger who swam down a river and made friends with the fish.

"Oh, Harrie, hi. I'm so glad you're feeling better."

"Thank you. Here, I wanted to give you something."

Mathilda's face split into a smile at the sight of the box of chocolate Harrie was offering her.

"What's the occasion?"

"It's a secret," Harrie said.

The girl froze for a moment, then took the box and immediately opened it to pop a chocolate into her mouth.

"A secret from myself?" she said, tilting her head, eyes narrowing shrewdly.

"Yes."

"That's cool. A secret I don't want to uncover! I didn't think those existed."

Harrie leaned against the stonework, looking at the horizon.

"There's a lot out there than can surprise you," she said.

They watched the sky in silence. White fluffy clouds crept across the blue, and Harrie imagined herself among them, flying on her broom. She needed to take it for a ride.

"Any New Year's resolutions?" Mathilda asked.

"Defeat Voldemort. Tell an important truth to someone."

"In that order?"

"Maybe not."

"You should tell the truth first. Just in case."

"I suppose I should, uh? What about you, any resolutions?"

"Eat less chocolate," Mathilda said seriously, eating another chocolate. "But don't worry. I've yet to keep a single resolution. In fact, the most they last is a few hours."

"Oh, uh, sorry..."

"You have to do better than me, Harrie."

"I will," Harrie promised.

Night found her sneaking down to the dungeons. Snape greeted her with a kiss, his hands venturing down to her arse. She licked his mouth, desire sparking molten hot between her thighs. It wasn't the crazy need from the heat, but it was still enough to make her dizzy with want. Even more so when she thought Oh, I love him as they kissed.

"How are you feeling tonight?" he asked, one hand kneading the muscles of her shoulders.

"The soreness is fading. And anyway, do you know where I'm not sore?"

"Where?"

She took his hand, guiding it into her pyjamas, pressing his fingers into the cradle of her thighs.

"Not sore at all," he said, stroking her through her knickers. "And after taking my knot so many times. What a good Omega."

"Are you noticing anything different?"

"Should I?"

She tugged on the waistband of her pyjamas so he could see what his hand was doing.

"Oh," he breathed softly. "Harrie, are you trying to kill me?"

One finger followed the curve of her hip, tracing along the lace of her underwear, while the others dipped under the fabric, greedily.

"I'm wearing a matching bra. Do you want to see?"

He growled something under his breath, and suddenly her pyjamas had vanished. She gasped, the cool air of the room caressing her bare skin.

"Yes, I do want to see," he said, his voice dipping into those deep, husky tones that always made her so wet.

"Wandless clothes vanishing, that's naughty."

"Not as naughty as what you're wearing," he said, his eyes roaming hungrily over her. "Did you have this on earlier in Potions?"

She smiled mischievously at him.

"If I say yes, are you going to spank me, Professor?"

He dragged her up against him, rolling his hips and making her feel his hardness.

"Naughty Omegas deserve to get spanked..."

His large hands squeezed and groped her arse as she ground against his clothed cock. She was dripping slick into her knickers, smearing some on his trousers.

"I should be wearing my collar to complete the set," she murmured in his ear.

He grunted, releasing her.

"Go put it on, and then wait for me in my bed."

"Yes, sir," she purred.

She found the collar in his drawer, felt a thrill as she closed it around her throat. She had missed it. She was definitely going to wear it whenever she was with Snape.

Then she spied his wand on the bedside table. Oh, tempting... Too tempting. She grabbed it, lay down on the bed, brought the tip to her lips, letting the smooth wood play against the seam of her mouth. Snape's wand was long, longer than her own, a bit thicker too, and made of a dark wood. Ebony, maybe? She wondered what its core was.

The wand felt nice in her hand. Touching someone else's wand was an intimate thing, using it even more. Wands were loyal to their wizard or their witch, and wouldn't let themselves be used unless you won their allegiance in combat. Or unless the person loved you.

Harrie has used Hermione's wand before, and because they were friends, her wand had worked for her.

Now, she wondered...

"Harrie."

Mmm, that was a growl. A bit annoyed, perhaps. Smiling at Snape who had just appeared at the door, she slid his wand along the length of her closed mouth.

"Put it down," he said, but his eyes were following the trajectory of his wand with rapt attention.

She flicked her tongue, stopping just short of actually licking the wood, then dragged the tip down, letting it kiss her throat, before directing it lower. Snape gave a soft groan when it dipped between her breasts. The bra she was wearing cradled her small cups and pushed them together, creating an enticing vision, and Harrie worked with that, smiling at Snape as she let the tip of his wand disappear between the valley of her breasts.

"Stop," he growled.

"You should stop me, sir. Who knows where that wand will end up if you don't..."

He stalked closer, his gaze still glued to his wand. Made no move to stop her. Smirking, she traced the swell of her right breast with the lower half of the wand, then slid the tip lower. It reached her navel, hit her knickers. She glided the tip over the silky lace, used it to drag down the piece of fabric, revealing her mound, her soaked sex.

Snape still didn't stop her.

Her pulse racing, she let the tip wander over her sex, let it brush her wetness. The wood felt cold against her pulsing, eager flesh. Growing bolder, and since Snape was only watching, his eyes dark and wide, Harrie circled her entrance with the tip. She teased herself, rocking her hips slowly, moaning.

"Oh, that feels... so nice..."

A rough growl exploded out of Snape. Harrie thought for sure he'd be on her the next moment. She was wrong. He stood still, breathing hard, nostrils flaring. Her mouth was dry, her blood pure lust at this point.

"I need more," she whined.

She inserted the tip inside her, just that first inch. It was barely thicker than one of her own fingers, but it was unyielding and her inner walls fluttered against the penetration.

"More, Sev..."

Was she doing this, really? Yes, she was. She pushed the wand deeper, taking more inches. The length scraped against the roof of her cunt, and she felt herself gush slickness on the wood, drenching it in her juices. Her thighs jerked as she started fucking herself with the wand. In, and out, and it was far from satisfying, not thick enough, too rigid, too cold, but the idea alone aroused her beyond belief. She was using Snape's wand to... to...

"Oh God, mmm..."

"You filthy creature," Snape said, in a reverent whisper.

He joined her on the bed, and then his hand was on his wand, and he was helping her, taking control of the rhythm. She let go, her hands grasping the sheets, curling there as her hips rolled, chasing pleasure, as Snape thrust his wand into her sopping cunt, lewd noises between them.

His jaw was tense, his teeth bared, his eyes dark as night while he fucked her like that.

"Is this what you want, you filthy little girl? You want to come on my wand?"

"Yes," she hissed. "Yes, on your wand..."

Pleasure pooled low, gathering in a hard knot somewhere in her cunt, and Harrie squirmed, her climax edging closer. Breathing in gasps, she rocked her hips faster, mewling each time the wand pressed into her g-spot, sparks lighting up her nerves like magic. Snape angled it perfectly, rubbing her sensitive spot with merciless precision, again and again, inflicting deep jolts of zinging pleasure, wrenching desperate whimpers from her lips.

"Severus, please... ah, I need, I need—"

"Go on, Harrie. Come on my wand. Come hard."

His thumb pressed on her clit, the tip of his wand scraped against that pulsating spot where the pressure was accumulating, and she came with a guttural cry, her legs shaking, her back bowing. Her cunt spasming around his wand, she groaned through the radiating waves of pleasure, trembled through orgasmic bliss. It trickled away, leaving her wheezing.

"Mmm, mmm, oh..."

She felt Snape remove the wand from her. Then it was at her lips, insistent, the tip wet with her own slick.

"Lick it clean," Snape ordered. "You've made a mess of it."

Holding his gaze, she licked, closed her lips on the first inch, sucking it into her mouth. He pushed more of it on her tongue, leaning forward, watching her ravenously. Then more, and more, and she took it, relaxing her tongue, letting the wooden length slide deeper and deeper.

"You'd gag on my wand, wouldn't you, Harrie? You'd take it all if I asked. Look at you, so needy."

She moaned, eyelashes fluttering, drooling on his wand. He suddenly wrenched it free from her mouth, replaced it with his tongue. She grasped at his hair, bit at his lips, begged for more. With a whisper, he vanished his own clothes, began pressing inside her. He went slow, which Harrie thought was really not needed, and she let him know by growling and tugging on his hair.

"You'll take it exactly how I want you to take it," he said. "If I want to keep you speared on my cock and not thrust once, I will."

"Please, Severus, please..."

She clenched around him, snapping her hips up.

"No," he said, grabbing her throat and pinning her beneath him. "Stay. Still."

She whined, panting, body straining. He slapped the side of her thigh, one resounding blow.

"God, I can't—"

"You can. You will stay still and you will let me fuck you at the pace I desire. Now, what's your safeword?"

"I... do we need a safeword? It doesn't feel like..."

"Your safeword, Harrie."

"Syndercombe," she moaned, screwing her eyes shut, trying to stop herself from grinding down on his cock.

"Yes," he said, before drawing his hips back, so slowly she opened her eyes again to glare at him.

He pushed forward at a glacial pace, and every inch gained made Harrie clench down, her cunt hungry for more. She needed it all. When he finally bottomed out, she mewled, so grateful, so delighted to be so full. He paused, looking down at her, swiped his thumb across her lips, and withdrew, still too slow.

She held still, gripping his arms, biting her lips, breathing like she was running a marathon, doing her best to give him what he wanted. Was this punishment for playing with his wand? Did he simply enjoy dictating the pace? Did he intend to take his time for another reason? She was being tormented anyway, and she had to bear it.

The safeword was right there, but she liked this too much to make it stop.

I'm such a masochist...

Gradually, Snape sped up. He leaned back, grasping her hips, pumping into her, watching her take his cock. He was hitting her g-spot again, this time rubbing along it with the breadth of his shaft, and Harrie was hurtling toward another orgasm. When it came, it surged from so deep inside her it felt like a winding punch. She went blind for a few seconds, a rush of darkness and flashing pleasure overwhelming her senses.

As her sight returned, she blinked at the sheets. She was on her belly, her legs spread, her cunt empty. There were hands kneading her arse, smoothing palms rubbing her skin.

"Sev," she whined, her head spinning. "Stop... teasing..."

He spanked her, a ringing slap to her arse. Her insides jolted with heat. He caressed her stinging skin, then gave her another swat, harder. She moaned, squirming, need burning like lava between her legs. She had come twice, and still it wasn't enough.

"Stop teasing?" Snape said, with a third slap. "And do what, I wonder?"

"Fuck me, Al-pha, fuck... me, fuck please..."

She was tripping over her own words, her plea verging on incoherent. Snape must have taken pity on her, because he decided to grant her request. He put one hand at her nape, holding her down, and thrust back inside her in a violent shove, hilting himself to the root. His hips slammed against her rump, making her squeal.

He pulled back to the tip, went deep again, his thrusts bruising and forceful.

"Is this how you want it? Hard and brutal? Being used by your Alpha until he fills your hole?"

"Yes, fill me, Alpha... use me, cum in me..."

He grunted, driving his cock into her, pressing his weight on her, leaning down until he was nosing at her jaw, nipping and biting. He licked lower, his tongue hitting the collar, tracing the band of skin above. Harrie bucked under him, chills crawling up her spine, a burning heat coiling in her cunt. She was approaching overstimulation, was approaching that edge of toomuchtoogood, the only reason she wasn't there yet being her Omega endurance.

"So wet for me... so tight, too, aren't you? You're squeezing my cock, Harrie."

The messy wet sounds that reached her ears were near pornographic, and coupled with her gasping whines, well, they went there, crossing the line to absolute filth. Snape went faster and harder, the head of his cock bumping her cervix, the heavy drag of his member against her walls providing ecstatic friction.

"I'm gonna come, fuck... oh, I'm gonna, gonna—"

She came a third time, drooling onto the sheets, whining out a garbled version of his name. Her abdominal muscles tensed and spasmed, near painfully.

"Ah," she gasped. "Your turn. I wanna... feel you come."

He groaned, shuddering on top of her.

"I want... I want to come on your face."

"Oh, god, yes."

He pulled out and she rolled on her back, opening her mouth, sticking her tongue out. He settled over her chest, pumping his cock two inches from her face. She whined in need, watching his hand work feverishly on his straining length, until he tensed with a grunt, spurting hot ropes of cum over her cheeks, her nose, her lips, her tongue. His hand kept moving on his cock, and he spilled and spilled, every drop of cum hitting her face.

"Fuck," he moaned, hand finally leaving his cock. "Fuck, Harrie..."

She grinned, licking her lips.

"Merlin, look at you..." he said, and he looked in awe, like he was contemplating something that couldn't exist.

"Bet I look like I'm yours."

He sighed, getting off her and lying on his back.

"What am I doing?" he muttered.

"You're making me very happy, Severus."

She Accio'd her wand to clean herself, then cuddled him, pressing her face into the hollow of his throat. He wrapped one arm around her, sighed again. She felt him relax, and she smiled, giving him a kiss.

Barely a minute later, as his breathing had begun to slow, he jerked against her.

"What?" she said when he pushed her away.

"I have to go."

"What, where?"

"The Dark Lord is calling me," he said between gritted teeth, and he sent her such a cold look she recoiled, feeling their little bubble of warmth pop, cold reality intruding back in.

"Okay... I'll... I'll wait for you."

"No," he said, as he got dressed. "I don't want you here when I come back. Go back to your dormitory."

"Sev, it's fine. I'll wait."

"Don't," he said, and with every button he closed, he became colder, more distant. He was putting on his armor, and shutting her out. "You have no idea what I might have to do. No idea of the state I might be in when I come back. I don't want you to see me. Leave." He grabbed his wand, avoiding her eyes. "Please, leave."

He touched his Dark Mark, disappeared without a sound.

"I love you," she said, as if the words could chase after him and warm him when he needed them.

She didn't leave. She put her knickers back on, and she stayed in his bed, in her underwear, wearing the collar. She didn't care what state he'd come back in. She would love him anyway. And besides, she couldn't leave when he needed her. He always pushed her away when he needed her.

She fell asleep after about an hour. She dreamed of Snape, of sitting next to him at the professors' table. In her dream, it was normal. Everyone expected her to be there, and when she took his hand and kissed it, no one said she couldn't.

She woke with a smile on her lips. Casting a Tempus revealed it was just before seven a.m. Snape still wasn't back.

She sat in the bed, decided she would wait until eight. Maybe eight thirty. Any later than that, and she'd be late for her first class, which today was Charms. She didn't have Potions until this afternoon. Could Snape be gone that long?

She cast another Tempus some time later, as she was starting to fidget. Nearly eight now.

Perhaps two minutes later, he appeared silently, standing in the middle of the room. His black eyes snapped to hers, and he bared his teeth in a snarl.

"No," he said, in a rough voice. "Get out."

"No."

"Get out!" He pointed his wand at her. "I'll hex you, Potter."

She rolled her eyes.

"Sure, now it's Potter and not Harrie."

She got up, approached him, walked right into his wand.

"Go on. Hex me, Severus."

His jaw ticked, his black eyes burning with a whirlwind of emotions. She saw rage in there, and fear, and loathing. Tipping her head back, she stared, challenging him.

"How about Sectumsempra? It's listed as 'for enemies' in your manual. Am I your enemy?"

With a half-snarl, he lowered his wand, turned away.

"Leave. You can't see me like that."

"Like what?"

She tried to hug him. He caught her wrists, holding her at arm's length.

"I did horrible things tonight," he said, not meeting her eyes.

"I know. I don't care."

"You don't know," he growled, snapping his teeth. "You have no idea. I... I had to watch a woman be tortured because she was a Muggle, and I stood there and let it happen. I let it happen, Harrie. I looked into her eyes while she screamed and begged, and I did nothing."

There was so much pain in his voice. Harrie's heart bled with him.

"Do you understand what I am?" he said, every word spat out like a curse.

"You're brave," she said.

"No. I'm lower than filth. I'm nothing. Less than nothing."

"You're strong."

He shook her, gaze on the floor.

"Shut up."

She stepped closer, one slow step, placing her cheek against his chest. He made a rough sound of pain, ripped from him. He was trembling, as if he were about to shatter.

"You're so brave," she whispered, with all the love she had inside her.

He groaned, and then his arms were around her, crushing her to him. He buried his face in her hair, exhaling hard. She hugged him back, radiating love.

They tumbled down to the bed, his body on her.

"Tell me you hate me," he pleaded, pressing his face against her throat.

"I don't hate you."

"Tell me I'm nothing."

"You're not nothing."

His lips slid on her skin, his hands grasping her hips, a desperate, fumbling grip, a drowning man reaching for a lifesaver.

"Tell me," he gasped, wetly. "Tell me, Harrie."

"I love you."

He shuddered, a low whine that sounded like he was in pain.

"You don't," he whispered into her skin.

"I love you."

"You don't! You can't, you can't..."

"I love you."

He emitted another sound of pain, trembling harder. His hands fumbled between them. She helped him, curling her fingers over the length of him, helped him again when he snapped his hips forward and missed her entrance, his cock bumping into her stomach. She took him in hand, and guided him right. He slid deep, groaning, huffing against her neck.

"Tell me," he begged.

"I love you."

"Harrie, Harrie..."

He rutted inside her, tortured moans spilling from his mouth, hands scrabbling at her, shaking in uncoordinated, jerky motions. She held him, arms and legs wrapped around his trembling frame, and she said it, again and again.

"I love you, I love you, God, I love you..."

It was over in a minute. He shuddered hard, collapsed on her, went still and limp. She rubbed his back, exhaled deeply. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. She smiled, brushing his hair back to kiss his forehead.

"You turn passing out, uh?"

She stayed under him for a few more minutes, listening to his breathing, holding him, loving him. Slowly, she extricated herself, then drew the blanket over him, and kissed him, upon his brow. She removed her collar, placed it in his palm, cradled there like the most precious thing.

"I can't believe how much I love you. It's frankly ridiculous."

Smiling to herself, she left his rooms.

She was distracted all morning, her heart and mind still with Snape. At lunch, she was relieved to see him appear, and even more relieved that he seemed normal. She wanted to run to him and hug him, right there in front of everyone. Instead she glared at him, he glared back, and (almost) all was right with the world.

Her hour of Potions in the afternoon proceeded as usual. Afterward, she stayed behind, telling Ron and Hermione she had an academic question about the potion they had brewed today.

"I'm sorry," Snape said once they were alone, which was so not normal she was struck speechless. "I lost control this morning."

She shook her head.

"Don't apologize, Severus."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

It was a whisper, and she saw in his eyes how afraid he was of the answer. She ran to him then, and he got up to catch her in his arms as she flew at him. They embraced, both trembling.

"You didn't, of course you didn't."

"I would never forgive myself..."

"I'm fine, Sev. And I meant every word I said this morning. You know that, don't you?"

He sighed.

"Every foolish word, no doubt," he replied, kissing her hair.

"Bite me."

He tensed, drawing back to look her in the eyes. She stared back, determined.

"Are you aware of what you're asking?" he said in a whisper.

"Yes." She slid a hand under her scarf, touching her scent gland. "I've thought about it a lot. You should bite me. I want you to."

"No. I can't. I can't be your mate, Harrie. You don't want me as a mate."

"Yes, I do," she said, glaring at him with all her love.

He inhaled sharply, eyes widening. There was a spark of fear in there, deep beneath the slipping control.

"You're speaking nonsense."

"What happens if Voldemort bites me?" she said, tapping a finger in the center of his chest.

"He won't."

"What happens if he does?"

Snape sighed.

"He—"

"He gets access to my magic and can compel me to obey him. He'll order me around, and I won't have a say. I'll be his little Omega bitch."

Snape's eyes flashed.

"Never call yourself that," he snarled.

"But he will. He'll call me that, and worse."

"No, Harrie, listen." He cupped her jaw, slid his thumb over her cheek. "He won't bite you. He won't. He'll smell me on you, and he'll know you're mine. He'll be furious, but he won't claim you. He doesn't share."

"Bite me anyway," she said, baring her scent gland for him.

His eyes flickered to it. A spasm came over his face, and he leaned back.

"No."

"I'm not going to stop asking," she said.

He chuckled bitterly.

"I'm not going to stop saying no."

"We'll see. I love you."

She kissed the tip of his nose and left him there.

She made it to her next class only two minutes late. McGonagall didn't take points away, only nodding at Harrie and telling her she would take points next time. That was a rather merciful treatment, and Ron commented she must have been in a good mood. Harrie was pretty sure the older witch was being nice to her because she had just endured the unimaginable ordeal of spending her heat in Snape's bed, and of course McGonagall thought that had been awful for her.

Nobody knew. Harrie decided she wanted some people to know. She informed Ron and Hermione she had something to tell them, and they gathered in one of the private alcoves of the Gryffindor's common room.

"It's about Snape, isn't it?" was the first thing Hermione said.

"Yes."

"Well, what about him?" Ron said.

"I didn't have Dragon Pox last week. I had my first heat. Snape... he helped me."

There was a silence.

"When you say 'help', you mean..." Hermione said.

"Yes."

"Oh, gross," Ron said, grimacing.

"Not really. And it was either that or dying from the stress."

"I would rather have died, personally," Ron said.

"Actually," Hermione said, "I think Snape is a good choice for helping an Omega through a first heat. If I were an Omega, and for some reason you weren't available, Ron, I would choose Snape."

"What? Why?"

"He's in control. He's older, so he knows what he's doing, and he's so cold there is no risk of any emotional attachment. He'd help you, and then it would be as if nothing had happened. Easy and clean."

"You scare me, sometimes," Ron said.

"That's a pretty accurate assessment," Harrie said. "Except for one thing."

Hermione frowned, giving Harrie a probing look. Harrie smiled, sort of in defeat.

"Oh no," Hermione said. "Oh, Harrie, really?"

Harrie nodded.

"What?" Ron said. "What's going on? Please explain, I don't speak subtle-girl-look."

"I love him," Harrie said, and then grinned, secret finally out.

"Sorry, what?"

"Snape. I have feelings for him, and... they're not Omega feelings. They're real feelings."

Ron made a strange strangled sound.

"Snape. Really?"

"Yes."

"Harrie, I don't mean to insult your taste in men, but... what is there to love?"

"Surprisingly, a whole lot."

Ron looked unconvinced.

"I see it," Hermione said. "He's got an intense air about him, if you go for that sort of thing. And he has nice hands."

"Please, I've heard enough," Ron said, wincing. "All right. Snape, then."

"Severus," Harrie said, and giggled at Ron's face. "You can't tell anyone, though. It has to stay a secret."

"Does he know?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. He accepts it, in his own stubborn way, but he doesn't want us to be together. Not the way I want."

"To be clear, is that the special Alpha and Omega way? You want him as a mate?"

"Yes," Harrie said, as Ron made another pained noise. "That's where I need your help, Hermione. How do I convince him?"

"Ah," Hermione said, rubbing her hands together. "I believe I have the perfect idea..."

*

Harrie didn't sneak into Snape's office.

She walked up to it, and knocked. There was a second of silence, and then he spoke.

"Come in."

She entered, smiled at him, closed the door.

"You're here early," he said.

It was just after dinner. In fact, she had come straight from the Great Hall.

"We have to talk, Severus."

"Do we?" he replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes."

She took the parchment out of her pocket, unfurled it. He stared.

"What is that?"

"Your list of objections."

"I beg your pardon?"

She gave a shake to the parchment.

"I've titled it Reasons why I can't be Harrie Potter's mate."

His eyebrows climbed up, his mouth twitching.

"It's long," he said.

"Well, you have a lot of objections. I better get started." She cleared her throat. "Reason number one. Her age. She's twenty years younger, and it makes me feel like a pervert."

He made a small sound, like a swallowed back groan.

"My answer: considering wizards and witches live twice as long as Muggles, it really amounts to a ten-year difference. It's totally manageable, and as we grow older together, it'll matter less and less. Plus, a lot of famous wizards and witches couples have age differences, and that doesn't bother anyone. For example, Celestina Warbeck's first husband was twenty-five younger than her, and her second husband was thirty years older."

"Researched that yourself, did you?" Snape said.

"Yes. Let's move on to reason number two. She's my student."

She smirked at him.

"That one's easy. It won't be true in five months. Next!"

She squinted at the parchment.

"Ah, yes. Reason number three: 'I'm not good enough for her, woe is me'. I tried to capture your perspective in my titles, how did I do?"

"Exceptional," he deadpanned.

"My answer to that one: you don't get to decide if you're good enough for me or not. I'm the one who says if you deserve to have me. And you do. You do, and I love you, and you can push me away, but I'll keep loving you from afar all the same."

He said nothing, his face impassive.

"Reason number four. It's just sex. Just hormones, just biology, nothing more."

Here she snorted.

"I don't think either of us were really fooled by that one," she said. "No, we caught feelings first, and then we tried to pretend it was just sex. Pretty poor coping mechanism if you ask me."

"Yes, and completely stupid too," he growled. "How long is this bloody list?"

"We've reached the last item. Actually, you can read that one."

She slapped the parchment down on his desk. The last line said, Make love to me now, you stupid man.

"Make love to you? What do you imagine that looks like?"

"The usual. Let's face it, you've made love to me before."

"What an impertinent declaration," he said, stepping up to her.

His mouth descended upon her, lips claiming hers.

"And so true," he murmured.

They found their way to his bed, where he undressed her, eyes roaming over her curves before his hands palmed them. She undid his buttons, all of them, and traced her fingers up and down his chest, taking her time, exploring. "What is there to love?" Ron had asked. So much, even in something as simple as his chest. The lean muscles, the old scars, the trail of dark hair that thickened near his navel...

"You're beautiful," she told him.

"Is that another item on your list? Another argument to convince me?"

"No. It's just the truth."

When he offered her her collar, she hesitated.

"Won't you bite me?" she said.

"I will. Once the Dark Lord is dead, once it's over. I promise."

"Why not now?"

"The bond between mated partners melds their magics and their minds. If we bonded now, I wouldn't be able to hide my link to you the next time the Dark Lord would sweep my mind. Even the strongest Occlumency cannot shield the truth of the bond."

The book had talked about the mental bond between mates, and how powerful it was, but it hadn't mentioned the difficulty of hiding it at all. Why would you want to hide such a joyful thing? Unless, of course, your name was Harrie Potter and there was a Dark Lord threatening your happiness.

"All right," she said. "We'll kill him together, and then you'll be mine."

"And then you'll be all mine," he confirmed. "And everyone will know it."

She put on her collar, kissed him. They rolled around on the bed, giving in to their passion. She was on top first, taking him inside her in a roll of her hips, hissing in pleasure, then he was, holding her down and driving his cock into her pliant body with rapid strokes.

They kept kissing, kept looking into each other's eyes, green to black, as they slowly climbed toward a mutual orgasm. Shuddering together, clammy skin and pounding hearts, mouth meeting and parting, both gasping, both panting, both crying out the other's name...

"Harrie, fuck..."

"Oh, God, Sev!"

...and both coming, her cunt contracting around his spurting cock. He ground into her, groaning as he emptied himself. He hadn't knotted her, which must have been so difficult for him, since she wasn't on top this time.

"You could have, you know," she said, rolling her hips and enjoying the last tremors of her climax.

"I intend to fuck you again tonight, and soon. You'll take my knot once I'm fully satisfied."

"Oh, lucky me," she purred, stretching under him.

"No, Harrie. I'm the lucky one."

"I love you," she said.

"Mmm."

"Hey, that was a 'I know'. I'm getting better at deciphering your weird noises."

"Actually, you're still terrible. That was a 'me too'."

And while she was stunned speechless, he kissed her, and he laughed.

Chapter Text

She was in the Forbidden Forest when it happened.

It was a Sunday, one sunny May afternoon, and she was on her broom, out on a relaxing fly. She maneuvered between the trees, close to the ground, doing lazy turns, not really thinking of anything. That was how she unwound, flying with no purpose, letting her body react on its own.

She wasn't expecting the ambush.

It came from her left, a flash of red light streaking toward her. She ducked, Seeker's reflexes serving her well, but there was a second flash right behind the first, and that one hit her, glancing off her left arm. She immediately lost all feeling in that limb. Cursing, she pulled on her broom, trying to head up, hoping she could put some distance between herself and her attackers, zipping toward the sky in a burst of speed.

"Crucio!"

Pain exploded across her nerves, a torrent of fire. She screamed, and screamed, unable to think, much less steer her broom. Wind whipped at her face, and then there was the impact into the ground. She hit hard, a burst of agony spearing her right shoulder. The fact that she could feel it, specifically, meant she was no longer under the influence of the Cruciatus.

She blinked, gasped. Her face was smushed into the soft mantle of leaves, her glasses askew, vision all blurry. Panting, she scrambled up to her knees, thrusting her hand in her pocket to grab her wand. She aimed it at the closest figure, shouting.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!" the man said, a blue bubble of magic snapping to life around him.

"Stupefy!" Harrie said, teeth gritted.

Her spell slammed into his shield, shattering it. He went rigid, dropping to the forest floor. Before Harrie could get up, there was a shout of "Incarcerous!", and ropes sprouted around her, forcing her arms flush against her chest, wrapping around her legs as well. She toppled forward, unable to brace her fall.

"Expelliarmus," a feminine voice said.

Harrie's wand flew out of her grasp, rendering her truly vulnerable. Bellatrix stepped into view, a triumphant smile on her lips.

"Got you, Potter," she crowed.

Harrie struggled against the ropes, muscles straining.

"Accio w—"

Bellatrix slashed at the air, and something hot and whiplike struck Harrie across the face. Her head hit the ground, the world turning dark for a second. Breath driven from her lungs, she lay on her back, staring at the sky.

"Take care of Dolohov," she heard Bellatrix say.

A man shuffled forward, right at the edge of Harrie's vision. Even with tears in her eyes and her glasses too low on her face to help, she recognized Greyback, his hulking form and hunched shoulders.

"Rennervate," he said, and Dolohov stirred, groaning.

"Getting bested by a teenage girl, you should be ashamed," Bellatrix said.

Harrie was thinking hard. She couldn't do this on her own, couldn't take three Death Eaters at once, even if by some miracle she managed to get her wand back. She needed to call for help. But she couldn't conjure a Patronus without her wand, and any signal she might send into the sky wouldn't be properly visible, not from the castle. She was too deep into the forest.

She thought of Snape, her heart aching. If they had bonded, she could have reached for him mentally, could have warned him. If. It remained hypothetical. They weren't mated, not yet.

She was on her own.

Greyback grabbed her, roughly hauling her up. His wand dug hard into her cheek.

"Play nice, Potter, or I'll add another scar to that pretty face."

She bit his hand. He cursed, backhanded her. Stars burst in her vision, her head ringing.

"Little bitch!"

"Careful with her!" Bellatrix said. "The Dark Lord doesn't want her too damaged."

"No, he wants the pleasure of breaking her himself," Dolohov said, grinning.

Harrie spat on the ground, at his feet. There was blood in her mouth, blood dripping down her face, and her shoulder throbbed with acute pain, probably sprained, if not broken.

"Quickly," Bellatrix said, snapping her arm up.

Both men obeyed, gathering close to her. Harrie stumbled as Greyback dragged her forward. The ropes gave her just enough slack that she could walk, and, regrettably, not enough to kick the werewolf.

Bellatrix was holding a tea kettle, the object looking so mundane in her hand. Harrie had the hysterical thought Bellatrix was going to offer her some tea. One sugar with your Avada Kedavra Harrie, is that how you take it? She must have hit her head harder than she thought...

The ropes binding her arms shifted. Greyback's enormous paw closed around her wrist, and he yanked on her arm, bringing it forward. Harrie resisted, closing her hand into a fist, thrashing, leaning her entire body away from that tea kettle. If she touched it, she was screwed. One couldn't Apparate or Disapparate within the grounds of the castle, and the forest was part of the grounds, but there were other ways to travel magically.

Greyback grunted, jerking her arm forward, so violently her shoulder erupted in fiery pain. Harrie cried out, but it was too late. Her fingers had made contact with the kettle, and she was being swept away. Her feet left the ground, that tugging feeling around her navel taking hold. The world swirled in a mix of colors, revolving quickly around her, so fast it was dizzying.

She landed somewhere else, heavily, bumping into Greyback. He swung an arm around her, squeezing her so tightly to him she couldn't breathe for a second. Gasping, she looked around.

They were in the gardens of a manor, among green hedges and wild flowers. It wasn't the Malfoy's manor. It wasn't any manor she recognized, which meant when the Order realized Voldemort had taken her, they wouldn't know where to look for her.

On her own, truly.

"Hold her," Bellatrix said.

Greyback was already holding her, and he seemed to take Bellatrix's order as a sign to grip her as if she were a particularly slippery object, digging his dirty nails into her arms. The feeling had come back into her left arm, not that it was helpful at the moment.

Bellatrix aimed her wand at Harrie's face.

"You're dirty, Potter," she said, with a sickly sweet smile. "That won't do. We should bring a clean Chosen One to our Lord..."

She murmured an incantation, wiping the blood from Harrie's face. Then she reached out and steadied her glasses, putting them right.

"There, much better."

"Why bother when he's just going to kill me outright?" Harrie said.

"Oh, silly little Harrie, no," Bellatrix cooed. "He has plans for you. A week of torture at least, and then, once you've sworn allegiance to him and you're kissing his feet, yes, he'll kill you."

Harrie snorted, giving a jerk against Greyback's hold.

"That's stupid, leaving your enemy alive because you want to gloat. Why are you following a moron?"

"Hold onto that defiance," Bellatrix replied, still with that nauseating smile. "It will shatter beautifully under the Dark Lord's boot."

"You scream very prettily, Potter," Greyback said. "Can't wait to hear you beg."

Harrie shivered in disgust.

"Ah, one more thing," Bellatrix said, targeting Harrie with her wand again. "Finite Incantatem."

Harrie winced. Bellatrix couldn't have known it, but she had just dispelled the spell Harrie was using to hide her scent gland. Fuck, this was bad... and Harrie's desperate hope that Bellatrix wouldn't notice lasted about two seconds, after which the older witch's gaze snapped to her gland. Her face lit up, a giggle leaving her lips.

"Well, well, Harrie... a little Omega, how sweet! Of course you'd be a submissive little bitch."

"Fuck you."

"I believe that will be the Dark Lord's pleasure."

She leaned toward Harrie, eyes dancing with malice.

"It won't be a week of torture, after all. You'll know the touch of an Alpha, the most powerful Alpha there is. And you'll want it, Harrie. You'll beg for it."

"I'm afraid that's your fantasy, Bellatrix. But I'm sure he'd fuck you if you asked."

Bellatrix tapped the tip of her wand against Harrie's cheek, playfully. Harrie lunged forward, wrenching herself free from Greyback, reaching for her wand, held in Bellatrix's other hand, so close.

"Petrificus Totalus."

The ground came at her, hurtling at her face. Hands caught her before she hit it. Greyback hoisted her into his arms, draping her body over his shoulder. They went up the path toward the manor while Harrie screamed internally.

Calm down. Formulate a plan. You can do this.

She had to use the circumstances to her advantage. She knew what was going to happen. Voldemort would get angry when he'd smell Snape on her. She would act then, would use that unexpected moment no one would see coming.

They entered the manor. Voices reached Harrie's ears, murmurs and whispers. There were more Death Eaters within the walls. A den of vipers.

Just as she had that thought, a hiss sliced through the air.

"She is here... the girl, Massster..."

Harrie caught a glimpse of Nagini, slithering through the shadows. They were in a large room that must have been a drawing room. Knowing Voldemort, probably a throne room. A fire crackled in an hearth somewhere on her right, out of sight.

Greyback set her down, and Bellatrix lifted the spell that held her paralyzed. Harrie took a deep breath, swaying on her feet, clenching her hands. When she looked up, she was faced with the sight of Lord Voldemort, sitting on a throne that seemed to be made of skulls. For a second, it was so shocking and so absurd she thought she was dreaming.

No, I'm not dreaming. I'm really here, face to face with Voldemort. He's really sitting on a throne made of skulls.

He regarded her in silence, his red eyes piercing hers. His face was cold, dispassionate, examining her like he would an insect who had wandered on his boot.

"Bellatrix," he said. "What have you brought us?"

"The girl who would defy you, my Lord."

There was a wave of laughter around her. She scanned the room, saw more Death Eaters. Rowle, and Rookwood, and Pettigrew. Lucius Malfoy, too, near the fire, looking strangely uncomfortable and strangely without his cane. Then Harrie's gaze slid further right, and landed on Snape.

He stood rigidly to the side, hands clasped in front of him, face just as impassive as Voldemort's. Their gazes met for a second. She read nothing in his eyes. She knew she wouldn't, he was too good to let anything show through. Her heart still clamored, and she forced herself to look away before she betrayed herself.

"Harrie Potter," Voldemort said, nonchalantly. "Are you ready to beg, girl?"

"Not really," she answered, with a shrug, matching his nonchalance.

Bellatrix approached Voldemort, bowing.

"Her wand, my Lord."

Voldemort grasped her wand between his long spidery fingers, looking at it, his mouth pursed.

"A small, unremarkable wand for a small, unremarkable girl," he said.

More laughter. Nothing from Snape, and, interestingly, nothing from Lucius Malfoy either. Was there something there that she could exploit?

"There is more," Bellatrix said. "She is an Omega."

At that, Voldemort's gaze sharpened with sudden interest. He handed her wand back to Bellatrix, got up, unfolding from his graceful pose, and stepped toward her, in a languid, wide stride.

"Step back," he ordered Greyback. "She is mine."

The tone of his voice made Harrie's stomach twist, a pulse of fear tainting her blood. It was sharp, resonating with power, with hunger. In general, Harrie had grown beyond being afraid of Voldemort, but that new way he was looking at her, and the carnal heat in his eyes were enough to spark her flight instinct. He felt like an Alpha, a predator, dangerous and wrong. The Omega in her recoiled, desperate to either flee or present her belly in submission.

She was more than the sum of her hormones. She remained where she was, glaring defiantly.

Voldemort stopped inches from her, tipped his wand under her chin.

"An Omega, Harrie," he hissed in Parseltongue. "Do you know what that means?"

"It means you're about to be very disappointed."

"No," he said, switching back to English. "It means your magic will be mine. All of you will be mine once I've claimed you."

He practically bit out the word, vibrating with eagerness. His face was glowing with that same eagerness, with sheer need. Harrie rather wanted to vomit. There were things one should never have to see in life, and that included Voldemort's sexual desire.

"Present your gland to your Alpha," he said, tapping his wand against her throat.

"You're not my Alpha."

"Yes, I am."

With a growl, he seized a handful of her hair, forced her head to the side, and bent down. He stopped with his mouth hovering over her gland, inhaled deeply. Harrie held still, her heart hammering in her ears. Voldemort inhaled again, and slowly, slowly, he straightened up. All desire had deserted his face. His eyes radiated cold anger, his lips pressed so thinly together they were barely visible.

"Severus," he said, softly, keeping his gaze on Harrie.

"My Lord?" Snape said, sounding every bit like a devoted servant.

"Why does the girl reek of you?"

"Ah," Snape said. "You see, my Lord, I've been fucking her."

The silence was abyssal. The kind of silence found at the very bottom of the ocean, dead and denser than lead. Nobody was breathing, nobody was even blinking.

"Explain yourself," Voldemort finally said, turning toward Snape, voice as cold and dark as the depths of the sea.

Harrie turned too, wincing from the hard grip Voldemort still had on her hair. Snape unclasped his hands and stepped forward, gaze flickering between her and Voldemort.

"I have erred most grievously," he said. "When I discovered Potter was an Omega, I could not resist tormenting the girl. I delighted in making her submit, in forcing her to take my cock, in debasing her daily under the nose of Dumbledore, that ignorant fool."

He looked at her with such a disdainful expression Harrie wanted to applaud his performance.

"I was weak, my Lord. I had found a way to inflict the most exquisite hurt on the girl, and I did not want to stop."

Voldemort said nothing, red gaze resting heavily on Snape. From the corner of her eye, Harrie saw his wand hand twitch, fingers agitated by the smallest tremor. What if Snape had miscalculated? What if Voldemort was about to fire an Avada at him, that simply, that quickly, for daring to steal Harrie from him? She had to do something, something that would distract Voldemort.

"You bastard!" she shouted, springing toward Snape, fists raised. "I trusted you! I thought... I thought you loved me!"

Her pain, on display, for Voldemort to enjoy.

Snape caught her wrists, easily subduing her. She only squirmed a little as he brought her against him, her back to his chest, putting his wand across her throat as if it were a blade.

"What a naive little Omega you make," he sneered.

She pretended to flinch, pretended she was so distraught by his betrayal she could only stand there and submit, out of habit. Pretended she was weak.

Snape felt so strong against her, his hands on her so right. She prayed Voldemort wouldn't look into her mind, because there was no way she'd be able to hide the truth. She bit her lips, channeling all her queasy trepidation into her fake look of fear, of pain.

Voldemort regarded them in silence for several seconds, red eyes unblinking.

"Kill, Massster?" Nagini asked, from somewhere near the throne. "Kill the girl?"

"Settle down, Nagini," Voldemort said. "Your time will come. This... shouldn't be rushed."

Oh, was torture still on the menu? What a relief.

"You will be punished, Severus. You should have come to me as soon as you realized what the girl was, instead of giving in to your Alpha urges... though I cannot deny I understand the appeal."

"My Lord is most generous," Snape said. "I shall of course submit to any punishment you deem necessary."

"Kill him, my Lord," Bellatrix said, sending a seething glare at Snape. "Kill him and claim the girl for yourself. Her magic would—"

"Silence, Bella. While Severus' actions were unfortunate, Potter is his. I have no interest in an Omega who has already known an Alpha."

Snape's wand shifted against her throat, the most minute adjustment possible. You see, I was right, was the meaning. Harrie flexed her fingers in answer. What now?

Going by how confident he was, he must have had a plan. Harrie trusted him, but right now, she couldn't see how they could make it out of this. Even with her wand, which Bellatrix was holding, they'd be two against eight. Awful odds.

Voldemort sat back on his throne, lounging, a king at ease among his court.

"The girl will die today," he said. "But before I end her pathetic life, I would like a demonstration, Severus."

"My Lord?"

"You spoke of exquisite pain, and I know you to be a most cruel man. Take your pleasure with the girl one last time. Show us how she suffers."

Harrie stiffened, hands flexing again. Snape bowed his head.

"As my Lord desires," he said.

He grabbed her by the hair, turned her around to face him. They looked at each other.

What's your plan? she asked silently.

Trust me.

Always.

He jerked her head back, the tip of his wand finding her cheek and pushing into the soft flesh.

"Are you ready to suck my cock, Potter? Give everyone a good show, so they can see how well I've trained you?"

"I'll bite it off, you traitor!" she spat, going with her gut instinct.

"No? Then perhaps I'll take you on all fours, like a bitch."

His wand trailed down to her throat, and to everyone else it must have looked threatening, but Harrie knew it for what it truly was: a caress, a Trust me brushed against her skin, a I would never hurt you.

"You like that position, if I recall."

There was a wave of laughter around them. Even Voldemort chuckled, high and cold.

"Go on," Snape said, equally cold. "On your knees."

"Fuck off."

"Imperio," he said, with a flick of his wand.

He didn't actually cast the spell. Harrie pretended he had, swaying on her feet, shoulders dropping, relaxing her posture.

"There, that's better. Obedient as any Omega should be. Now, Potter, tell me. What am I?"

"My Alpha," she slurred, giving him a real smile.

"Say it louder. I want everyone to know the truth."

"You're my Alpha," she said, loud and clear. And then, because she also wanted everyone to know the truth, "I love you."

Bellatrix made a sound of disgust. Snape smiled.

"Hands on me. Start pleasing your Alpha."

It was such a vague command she could pretty much do anything with it. She set a hand on the top button of his frock coat, started playing with it, while the other crept between his legs. He wasn't aroused at all. She pretended she was stroking him while slowly undoing that button.

He had so many buttons. She could have spent an age lingering at each of them, ever so slowly laying him bare. But Voldemort wasn't patient, and she was only on the second button when he spoke.

"Enough foreplay, Severus. Get on with it."

"Of course, my Lord. I apologize. I'm eager to proceed."

He caressed her face with the tip of his wand, then his arm whipped out, aiming behind her, at the only target that made sense.

"Avada Kedavra."

If the spell had been one word, Voldemort would have been dead. But it was two, and that afforded him time to dodge. Harrie turned in time to see the jet of green light hit the empty throne, scatter the skulls in an explosive blast. There were screams of outrage, and sudden movements as wands were drawn, the atmosphere in the room abruptly shifting.

"Accio wand!" Harrie shouted.

Her wand flew through the air, snatched from Bellatrix's grasp, and Harrie caught it as if it were the Snitch. It didn't guarantee victory, but it did shift the odds.

Two against eight after all.

Standing back to back by mutual instinct, Harrie and Snape faced their enemies.

"Traitor!" roared Voldemort, raising his wand in a furious arm motion. "You dare! You dare stand against me!"

"I told you you'd be disappointed," Harrie said.

There was a moment of supremely tense silence, wands aimed, gazes meeting and sparking, breaths quickening. One moment in time, on the edge of the future. One moment, and anything could happen from then on.

Harrie had never been more ready in her life.

The double doors of the room suddenly banged open, half a dozen people streaming in, familiar faces, evening the odds.

The Order of the Phoenix had arrived.

It was about then that all hell broke loose.

*

A couple of chaotic minutes later, Harrie was dueling Voldemort.

They exchanged spells, swiftly, magic hissing and crackling between them as they circled one another. From the first spell fired, Harrie had expected their twin wands' cores to connect and spark a beam like it had before, in the cemetery three years ago, but Voldemort wasn't using his wand. Instead of the bone-white stick, he was wielding a black wand, one that strangely trembled in his grasp.

He seemed to have some difficulty with casting some spells, which worked to Harrie's advantage and allowed her to stand toe-to-toe with him. As she edged right, blocking a sizzling red bolt, she caught a glimpse of Lucius Malfoy, standing in a corner with his hands raised, and it became clear it was his wand Voldemort was using. It wasn't working so well for him.

"Having difficulties performing, Tom?" she taunted him. "Why don't you use your own wand?"

Seething, he directed an Avada at her. She dodged out of the way, retaliating with an Impedimenta that he blocked.

"You'll die screaming, Potter," he said, teeth bared in a hateful sneer. "I'll throw your corpse at Severus. A proper reward for his betrayal."

"Actually, you're the one dying today. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but..."

She cast a Shield charm to protect against an unknown spell Voldemort had flung at her. It crashed into her blue bubble, harmlessly dissipating.

"...your Horcruxes have been destroyed," she went on, smiling at him, viciously pleased at the way he suddenly hesitated, his wand arm shaking.

"Impossible," he hissed.

"Very possible. Your mistake, really, choosing such obvious receptacles."

They had spent the last months hunting all the Horcruxes down, her, Ron and Hermione, and the only one left was Nagini, who was somewhere in the room and wouldn't live much longer.

"By the way, you should know you're a noseless lunatic."

She heard Snape's laugh from somewhere on her right, where he was fighting against Bellatrix. Their duel was as tense as the one Harrie was having with Voldemort, as tense as the other duels going on around them.

It was chaos, Death Eaters against Order members. The whole room was alight with spells, flashing every which way, crackling in the air, bursts of red, of white, of green. Lupin and Tonks were facing Rowle and Rookwood, protecting each other from the attacks coming their way. Mad-Eye Moody was busy with Greyback, and McGonagall with Dolohov. Hermione had Pettigrew backed up against a wall, already disarmed. Harrie couldn't see either Ron nor Nagini, and hoped her friend was all right.

"You'll die!" Voldemort barked.

He slashed his wand in the air, a jet of green light streaking toward Harrie. She ducked, fired off a Stupefy that missed. Growling, Voldemort stepped closer, letting loose a spell that was nearly point-blank. Harrie was a fraction of a second too late on her shield, and the dark magic blasted into her, sending her stumbling backward.

She hit the floor hard, landing on her arse, her wand ripped from her numb fingers.

Voldemort raised his wand, his lips stretched in a triumphant smile. She registered a movement at the edge of her vision. Snape, stepping between her and Voldemort, trying to protect her, again, always.

This time, she couldn't let him.

So she tripped him. He fell with a gasp of surprise, which was such a precious sound from him Harrie treasured it immediately.

Then the green curse was on her. It hit her full in the chest, and the world went white.

*

White.

Everything was white, and she was... breathing.

Uh, she was breathing.

Blinking, she sat up. Sunlight hit her face, warm and soft. It streamed in from a great glass dome above her head.

She looked around, confusion climbing. She was in King's Cross station, but it didn't look normal at all. Everything was clean, bright, and white, and there was nobody around.

She rose, wondering what on earth was going on. Was this an after-effect of the Killing Curse? Was she floating in some sort of limbo, stuck between life and death? Was she a ghost? Could you be a ghost without knowing you were one?

"Am I dead?" she said.

"That's a matter of perspective," said a voice she knew well, from behind her.

She turned, and was face to face with herself.

"Hello," Other Harrie said.

She was dressed like her, looked exactly like her, down to the unruly curls of dark hair that currently needed a haircut.

"Who are you?" Harrie said, which was perhaps not the brightest question she had ever asked, but the situation was very strange, one of the strangest she had ever been in, which was saying something.

"I think if we are to make this simple, you'd call me Death."

"Death."

"Yes," Other Harrie said, smiling.

"So I am dead."

Despair coated her tongue. Dead, and she wouldn't... she couldn't... She could only think of Snape. She had left him behind.

"Like I said, it's a matter of perspective," Other Harrie—Death—said.

Hope, like a ray of light on Harrie's face.

"Please, explain. Why am I here? And where are we, anyway?"

She thought she was rather calm given the circumstances. It had a lot to do with being confronted with herself. If Death had looked different, she may have reacted with anger, or impatience, but there was such a sense of familiarity in looking upon her own face that she found herself pacified.

"Why don't you sit down?" Death said, gesturing to a bench Harrie hadn't noticed so far.

She sat, and Death sat next to her, with the same posture.

"Why do you look like me?" Harrie said.

"I do, don't I? It simply means you're not afraid of me." Death grinned at her, with such genuine cordiality Harrie felt herself grinning back. "To answer your other questions, this is a way point, and you're here because you were the seventh Horcrux, the one Voldemort never intended to make."

Harrie brought a hand to her scar, eyes widening in comprehension.

"Yes," Death said. "He made many mistakes that night, and that one was his worst one. He made you a Horcrux, unknowingly."

"He didn't know?"

"No one knew. Well, Dumbledore suspected."

Harrie snorted.

"Suspected," she said, "and never said anything to anyone."

"He would have, in the end. He was afraid of what that meant, especially for you. For the Horcrux to be destroyed, you had to die at Voldemort's hand. And here we are."

"So it's done? The Horcrux in me was destroyed? Is Voldemort mortal now?"

"Oh, he's very mortal," Death said with an eerie smile.

Harrie shot to her feet.

"I have to go back," she said to Death, half-pleading, half... commanding? Could one command Death? She would try, damn it.

"Is this what you want?" Death said, a pensive expression on her face.

"Yes, of course it's what I want! I'm not done! I have to kill Voldemort, I have to—"

"Yes?" Death prompted, so gently.

"I have to see Severus again."

Death nodded, her green eyes sparkling.

"The choice is yours," she said. "You can board the train, and go on, or you can go back."

"I'm going back."

Death's smile was Harrie's smile in her best days, happy and carefree.

"I'll see you again, Harrie. Until then, live well."

*

She awoke in Snape's arms.

He was holding her close to his chest, cradling her body to his while he was on his knees. Her face was wet, and as she took in the situation, another droplet of water fell on her cheek. She wasn't the one crying.

Snape was.

He was shaking, sobbing quietly, gripping her so hard it nearly hurt.

Her heart ignited with fury at the thought of his pain. She breathed in, the slightest movement. He froze, blinking rapidly, more tears falling on her. She smiled up at him, mouthed the words Not dead. He trembled, shock written in every line of his face, making a noise that could have been another sob, but that she knew to be a sound of deep relief.

It was chaos around them, the fighting still going on. Harrie deduced she mustn't have been dead for long.

Snape was shielding her from Voldemort, his body hiding hers almost entirely, except for her feet. And Voldemort, of course, was gloating.

"How does it feel, Severus? It should be familiar, holding the corpse of a Potter woman in your arms..."

Snape produced a wracking sob, his shoulders shaking. Harrie was thoroughly impressed by how convincing that was, and at the same time, anger and bile burned in her throat, because as he had once told her, the best lies were based on the truth.

"You didn't beg me to spare her life," Voldemort said, glee suffusing every syllable. "Will you beg me to spare yours? Or would you rather join her in death?"

Wood brushed Harrie's fingers. She gripped the wand Snape had slid into her hands. It wasn't hers, but it didn't matter.

She was so damn angry she was vibrating from the emotion, the sheer force of it threatening to shake her apart. Voldemort had made her Alpha cry. It was unacceptable. For that offense, she was going to erase him from the face of the Earth.

Eradicate him like the cockroach he was.

"Nothing to say, Severus? Shall I end your suffering?"

Snape squeezed her hands, gesture so tender, then released them. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. He didn't tense, didn't give any indication that he wasn't holding a corpse, didn't adjust his posture in the slightest.

Ready? his eyes said.

Ready.

Harrie breathed in, and surged to her feet, helped along by Snape's push, as she aimed her wand in a flash.

"Avada Kedavra."

Green light streaked across the space, hit the target. He had time to look surprised, time for incomprehension to twist his features, and then he had no time left at all.

Tom Riddle's body hit the floor with a dull thud.

It was over.

*

With their leader dead, the rest of the Death Eaters surrendered, except for Bellatrix who had to be Stupefied. They stood in a corner of the room, heads bowed, magical ropes binding their hands, as Mad-Eye Moody and McGonagall kept their wands trained on them.

Harrie was in front of the hearth, letting the warmth of the fire seep into her. She didn't quite remember how she had gotten here. Snape might have said something about her hands being too cold, before dragging her here. He stood near her, silent and still.

It was over. It was over, and Harrie was sort of stunned. It didn't feel real yet.

"Harrie, you're all right!"

She was suddenly being hugged very vigorously by a crying Hermione. She returned the hug, a laugh bubbling in her chest.

"You too," she said. "I mean, you too?"

"Yes," Hermione said, with a smile. "Not a scratch."

"You fared much better than me," Ron said, appearing at her side.

He had blood on his face, and was holding his left arm cradled to his chest, with what looked like a severe bite mark on his forearm, his sleeve slashed and bloody.

"Fuck, are you okay?" Harrie said.

"I'll be fine. The snake got a bite in, but I had antivenom on me. That's thank to you, Professor," he said, looking at Snape. "Ever since you threatened to poison us in fifth year, I always keep a vial on me."

"Excellent foresight, Mister Weasley, but you should still get that looked at by a healer. That might get infected."

"That's what I told him," Hermione said, annoyance bristling in her tone.

"Come on, it's not every day we kill Voldemort. Let me enjoy the moment a bit more before you drag me away."

"Ronald, I swear, if you end up losing your arm..."

"You'll still love me?" he said, smiling hopefully.

"You're the biggest idiot I've ever met," Hermione replied, and Ron's smile widened at the obvious love in her voice.

Lupin approached, giving them all a concerned look, before his gaze stopped on Harrie.

"Harrie, you're all right... I don't understand, did the curse miss? Were you bluffing?"

"No, I really died. I came back."

"Good old Harrie," Ron said.

"But... how?" Lupin said, shaking his head in confusion.

"I'll explain it all later. For now, I think I'd like to rest."

"You deserve it," Snape said.

Lupin tensed at his interjection. His demeanor shifted, sliding toward icy hostility.

"Severus, your wand, if you please," he said.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Harrie said.

"Harrie, he may have been ultimately on our side, but he still committed numerous crimes. I'm sure you understand he has to answer for them, regardless of—"

"No. No, fuck off, this isn't happening."

"It's all right, Harrie," Snape said, calmly, voice resigned.

"No, it's not. You shut up. And you," she said, nearly growling at Lupin, "you won't touch him. He's a hero. Anyone who says otherwise will find me in their way. Is that clear?"

Lupin seemed taken aback by the fervor with which she was defending Snape. Of course, he was missing a huge chunk of context.

"Professor Snape did tell us Voldemort had taken Harrie," Hermione pointed out. "He's the only reason this all happened. Without his warning, I think... well..."

"I'd be dead for real," Harrie said. "He saved my life, and by extension he saved all of yours."

"He's all right, I guess," Ron said.

Lupin didn't look happy.

"Harrie," he said, "think..."

"The problem," she replied, "is that you're missing some crucial information."

And then she grabbed Snape by the hair, tugged him down, and kissed him, tongue and all. There were several gasps in the room. Momentarily stunned, Snape quickly recovered, kissing her back, grabbing her with ferocious desire.

After about a minute, having made her point, Harrie leaned back, turned to Lupin.

"He's my Alpha, and we're in love. Any more questions?"

"I thought Voldemort's corpse would be the most incredible thing I'd see today," Tonks remarked. "I was wrong."

Lupin rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking suddenly immensely tired.

"I need a drink," he muttered, turning away.

"Lovely idea," Ron said. "Let's all head to The Three Broomsticks and toast to Voldemort's demise."

"Ron, your arm," Hermione groaned.

"My arm's fine..."

"It's going to fall off!"

"You're always so worried about me..."

Smiling, Harrie grabbed Snape's hand, tugged him close.

"I need you," she told him.

They left the room, hand in hand, walked outside until they were out of the range of the anti-Apparation wards. Snape held her close, and she surrendered to the Side-Along Apparition, enjoying the feeling of his magic wrapping around her. They reappeared into his bedroom, immediately attacked each other's clothes.

She ripped off his frock coat, buttons popping everywhere, while he grabbed her shirt and tore it off. His hands went on her breasts, mauling them through her bra. She licked at his neck, undoing the buttons of his trousers, plunging her hand in and grabbing his cock. He groaned, gripped her arse, hauled her into him.

"You were... so brilliant," she panted as he rocked his erection against her. "Everything you did... so clever..."

"I'm sorry I had to say such horrid things."

He licked at her scent gland, and she nearly died from pleasure right there, crying out, an incredible rush of heat surging between her thighs.

"Yes, yes, do it..."

"I will," he promised in a growl.

He dropped her on the bed, crawled on top of her, removed her skirt and her knickers, his hands shaking. She helped him get rid of his own clothes, until they were both naked and trembling from desire.

She mewled as he rubbed his cock between her slick folds.

"Yes... Knot me, bite me, do everything to me."

"I don't know if we have time for everything," he said with a laugh.

"We do. We have all the time in the world, Sev."

"Is that true?" he said, taking her hands and interlacing her fingers, notching the tip of his cock at her opening.

"Yes."

"All the time in the world," he rasped, the words drenched in wonder, as if he couldn't believe it.

He pushed inside her, one smooth thrust until he was fully hilted. She arched under him, so elated she wanted to cry from sheer joy. They moved together, and she had the sense he was trying to savor this, to make it last, but it felt too good, and after so much adrenaline, after almost dying and actually dying, after such a victory, it couldn't be slow, and it couldn't last.

It was frantic, their hands intertwined, the rough slap of flesh resonating in the room, along with her whines of pleasure and his hoarse grunts, and when she started to feel her pleasure cresting, she told him what she needed.

"Do it, do it... please..."

He placed his mouth over her gland, shuddering, his hips working in brutal thrusts.

"Harrie, Harrie... Mine..."

"Yours, please, please..."

He groaned, and at the exact moment he pushed his knot inside her, he bit down on her neck. The universe exploded in her head. Crucified by pleasure, she sobbed as their magics met and melded into one another, the warmest, most beautiful feeling blooming in her chest, overtaking her senses even as her orgasm had her shaking.

For one confusing second, she saw herself through Snape's eyes, felt herself through him, her bright scent, her soft body beneath him, her cunt spasming around his cock. Then she was back in her own mind, gasping in shock.

Snape's mouth moved over her gland, his tongue gently licking the bite mark. His cock twitched inside her, and they both grunted as he filled her with his hot release.

Head lolling against the sheets, Harrie laughed, crying with joy at the same time. She could feel Snape, could feel his mind, his thoughts, and what she felt was overwhelming. He loved her. He loved her so much, God. It was all there, so raw, so powerful.

Overflowing love.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this much?" she said, voice thick from their combined emotions.

"Words would never have been enough."

"I know now."

She sought his mouth out with her own, licked his tongue, laughed against his lips. He was smiling, and she knew he could feel her happiness just as she could feel his.

"Your wand worked for me," she said. "And before we were even bonded, too."

"It would have worked for you from the very first day."

"Really?"

"All I ever wanted was to protect you, Harrie."

"Well, I'd say it's a resounding success. Will you keep protecting me now?"

"Always."

She smiled, hugging him.

Her Alpha, her Severus, her mate.

Her everything.

Chapter Text

"You won't win, you evil wizard!"

Lord Necromort laughed, pointing his wand at her.

"Oh, but I've already won," he gloated. "You're all alone, little Omega. Nobody is coming to save you."

He twirled his wand, firing an Avada at her. She dodged, throwing herself to the side, and tried an Expelliarmus. Her favorite spell, both because it was efficiently simple and because her Half-Blood Prince had taught it to her. Necromort blocked it, laughing at her.

"Do you think you can win with an Expelliarmus? How pathetic."

"Says the man with no nose."

He roared in anger, a jet of green light erupting from the tip of his wand. She ducked nonchalantly, smiled, even as the force of Necromort's rage made the scar on her forehead throb painfully.

"Sorry, is that a sore point? You know, if you miss having a nose that much, I'm sure something could be arranged with a prosthetic. I know a very competent Mediwitch who specializes in facial reconstruction. Do you want her Floo address?"

"Silence!"

Another Avada, easily dodged. She was an expert at avoiding death, after all.

"Or did you trade your nose for ultimate power? Kind of a rubbish deal, isn't it?"

"I will kill you!" Necromort shouted in rage.

"You've been trying to kill me for twenty years. What makes you think you'll succeed today?"

They exchanged another round of spells, green and red jets meeting and canceling each other out. She stepped back a few paces, flexing her fingers on her wand. Her heart was beating fast, but she wasn't afraid. How could she have been, when she knew something Necromort didn't? Something he wasn't ready for.

"You've always relied on other people to die for you instead," Necromort hissed, his face twisted in mocking contempt. "But today, you're alone."

"You're wrong. There's someone left."

"Who?"

"My prince is coming," she said, smiling.

"Your prince?" he scoffed. "Your prince is dead. My chancellor cut his throat and left him to bleed out."

She kept smiling. Necromort bared his teeth, stepping closer to make his spells harder to dodge. He raised his wand, about to fire another Killing Curse, when suddenly a bolt of red light hit his arm . He nearly dropped his wand, gasped in surprise at his attacker.

"Sorry, am I late?" the Half-Blood Prince said, as he joined his Omega to stand beside her.

"Not at all," she said. "I was just talking about you."

"What a coincidence," he said, his smile matching hers.

"But... but you're dead!" Necromort stammered, his voice wavering.

"I got better," the Prince said. He winked at her. She had to restrain the urge to kiss him right there and then. "Now, shall we?" he said.

"Oh yes, we shall."

They fell on Necromort, working in tandem, their spells synchronized down to the milli second. They didn't need to speak, didn't even need to look at each other. They were bonded, and their thoughts flowed between them, unimpeded, lightning quick.

Necromort was the most powerful wizard in the world, but even he couldn't stand up to the Half-Blood Prince and his Omega. He soon found himself backed against a wall and hit by an Expelliarmus, his wand flying away from him, before the Prince used the opening created by his mate to cast an Avada. Necromort tried to dodge, failed. The jet of green light slammed into him, and he was dead before he hit the ground.

The Prince lowered his wand. Then he was being kissed, rather violently.

"My love," he said, embracing his Omega. "You're safe now."

"Safe, and free to do whatever I want," she said.

"And what do you want?"

"What a question, my prince. I want you, of course."

"Have me. Have all of me, until the sun burns out and the very stars themselves blink out of existence."

And so it was.

Harrie smiled, closed the book softly, running her finger along the cover.

"So?" Severus said. "What do you think?"

"It's a good sequel, and I'm very satisfied that the Prince lives again and that they end up together."

"But?" Severus said, since he could sense there was a 'but' through their bond.

"But you really weren't subtle. Calling the villain Necromort? A scar on the heroine's forehead? She is so obviously me everyone is going to wonder why Syndercombe feels so comfortable writing porn about Harrie Potter."

"Let them wonder," Severus said with a smug smile. "Besides, it's a bestseller. People like it."

"Of course they like it. The Prince is your best character." She gave him a coy look. "I think I'm in love with him."

"And he's in love with you."

They shared a tender kiss.

"Plus," Harrie continued, "the cover isn't an unrealistic anatomical nightmare, so I'd say it's your best book yet."

"I was very clear with my publisher on that point, telling them they shouldn't depict the heroine with enormous breasts and practically no clothes on. I said I didn't want to run any risk of Harrie Potter suing me, and that it should be tasteful."

It was tasteful, the heroine holding a combat pose and pointing her wand at the reader, while behind her, her Prince loomed, half his handsome face obscured by shadows, making him look mysterious and dangerous. Harrie liked the cover.

"Thank for looking out for my blood pressure," she joked.

She grimaced at a sudden shooting pain in her lower belly, let out a huff.

"Is he kicking again?" Severus said, putting a hand on her bulging stomach.

"Yep. Right into my bladder this time."

"He won't be in here much longer."

"Two more weeks," Harrie groaned. "I'm so ready for him to come out."

"As I am," Severus said, rubbing soothing circles on her belly.

"Mmm. You know the twins have a betting pool on the date?"

"Do they, now?"

"I put down ten Galleons on January 9th," she said, letting her utter delight at the thought carry across their bond.

"I'm not sure our son would enjoy sharing a birthday with his dad."

"Sev, of course he'd like it. And he'll love you, you know that, right? You're already a great dad. Having a second kid won't change that."

Severus hummed, a slight frown creasing his brow. She felt his doubt and his hesitation. She felt the flutter of fear that had been there at the back of his mind ever since they had found out about the gender of the baby.

"You won't love him less," Harrie said, absolute conviction in her tone. "Even if he comes out looking exactly like James Potter, you won't love him less."

"I won't," he said, kissing her belly.

A promise to himself, and to the child.

"Parenthood is markedly more complicated than I imagined," he added. "But infinitely more rewarding, too."

"Couldn't agree more."

"Mummy!" came a thin, reedy voice. "I'm ready, can we go now?"

Harrie smiled at their daughter, Erin, who had just burst into the room. Excitement shone in her black eyes. She had gotten most of her facial features from Harrie, but her eyes were Severus' through and through.

"Did you lace your shoes?"

"Yes!"

"I don't see a hat on your head."

"But I wanna go now! I wanna see Auntie Mathilda!"

"It's very cold outside, my darling," Severus said. "Go put on your hat."

She grumbled, running back to obey. Severus got up, cast a Tempus with a lazy wand wave.

"Wasn't she supposed to arrive on the hour?" he said.

"She'll be there. She sent me her Patronus earlier, she's running a bit late. Dragon trouble."

Severus sighed.

"I still maintain it's a reckless idea, letting her fly wherever she wants with that dragon. So much could go wrong."

"It's a unique situation," Harrie said. "She's been doing fine so far. And she's an adult."

"Barely."

"Twenty-two isn't barely. And frankly, the Ministry has authorized much more reckless things. They let a thirteen-year old girl have a Time-Turner just so she could take more classes."

"It was an abysmally stupid decision, and had I been made aware, I would have filed a very strongly worded complaint. That being said... Miss Granger was more responsible at thirteen than Miss Walker is at twenty-two."

"You know they'd both be so delighted to hear that."

He humphed.

"Okay, now I'm ready!" Erin shouted, running back into the room with a red woolly hat sitting firmly on her head.

"Beautiful," Harrie said with a smile. "All right, let's go."

She got up with a groan and some help from Severus.

They stepped outside the house, walking in the fresh snow. The cottage stood alone at the end of a gravel path, protected by all sorts of charms and enchantments designed to repel Muggles and inquisitive reporters. They lived at Hogwarts most of the year, teaching there, but during the holidays they retreated to their small house.

Erin walked ahead, looking up at the sky.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"They should be coming in from the east," Harrie said, pointing in said direction. "I think... yes, that must be them. Right there, do you see?"

There was a small dot on the horizon, steadily growing larger.

"I see them!" Erin shouted excitedly, bouncing up and down. "Auntie Mathilda! We're over here!"

It took a few minutes for Mathilda and her dragon to arrive. The small figure wrapped in yellow robes and perched on top of the massive creature waved at them as they landed. A tremor went through the ground when the dragon touched down, her gigantic leathery wings sending a flurry of snow all around.

It wasn't the first time Harrie was seeing her, of course. She was quite familiar with that particular dragon, a big female Hungarian Horntail, having met her at fourteen years old during the Triwizard Tournament. But despite their multiple encounters, it was always a rush to stand in the presence of such a beast, to behold the black, gleaming scales, the dangerous spiked tail, the intelligent yellow eyes.

And the size, God. Mathilda looked like a child on top of a mountain.

Five years ago, when Mathilda was in her seventh year, the dragon had been brought back to Hogwarts by Charlie Weasley, as she appeared to be dying and Charlie needed Severus' expertise in potions. Mathilda had sneaked into the dragon's enclosure, and had bonded with her in a way that hadn't been seen in centuries, effectively saving her life by giving her something to care for. Not an egg, but a hatchling. Now they could hear each other's thoughts, and the dragon cared for Mathilda just as Mathilda cared for the dragon.

Her name was Sunlight, which was a very rough approximation of her true dragon name. Mathilda had tried explaining it without much success, since it used a lot of concepts that English didn't have names for. From what Harrie understood, her real, full name had something to do with the warmth of the sun on one's wings as one leaves the belly of the storm and emerges above the clouds.

The shower of powdery snow settled back down as Sunlight tucked in her wings. Erin rushed toward the dragon, giggling.

"Those are your reckless genes at work," Severus said.

"She knows she's with friends," Harrie replied with a smile.

Sunlight bent down and Mathilda hopped to the ground, boots crunching in the snow.

"Sorry I'm late," she said. "Sunlight saw a cloud with an interesting shape and decided it warranted investigation."

"Auntie Mathilda, hi!"

"Hello Erin. You look cuter every time I see you, how is it possible?"

"I'm growing up," Erin replied, very seriously.

"Yes, you are."

Mathilda then hugged Harrie, being careful of her belly.

"How is the baby?"

"Soon to come out," Harrie said.

"Not too soon, I hope."

Severus targeted her with a long probing stare.

"Am I to understand you're involved in that betting pool as well, Miss Walker?" he drawled.

"Ten Galleons on January 9th," Mathilda replied with a small smile.

"Ah!" Harrie exclaimed. "Great minds think alike."

"Come on, it would be fun."

Severus snorted, affecting irritation, but Harrie knew that in truth he was amused. With the bond, he couldn't lie to her at all. Of course, she couldn't lie to him either. (It wasn't a problem, except when trying to plan surprise birthday parties.)

"Can I go on the dragon now?" Erin asked.

Harrie exchanged a glance with Severus. They had talked about it. He still wasn't very thrilled, but he had accepted it would be safe. Mathilda had sent over a list of her safety equipment, as well as an invitation to try it out himself first. Harrie would have done it, but dragon riding when you were eight months pregnant wasn't recommended. So Severus had tried it, after which he had begrudgingly admitted that if Erin wanted to go on a ride on the dragon, she could. Of course Erin had been so enthusiastic at the idea she'd been asking every day if today was the day she would go flying with Mathilda's dragon.

"Yes, you can," Severus said. "Miss Walker, I expect my child back in one piece and with absolutely not a single hair out of place."

"Of course, sir."

Harrie had tried to get those two on a first name basis, but for some reason they both resisted it. It was silly, considering Mathilda was family in all but blood.

"Erin," Severus added, "you listen carefully to everything Mathilda says, do you understand?"

"Yes daddy!"

Mathilda smiled, crouched down at Erin's level.

"Come," she said. "I'll introduce you to my very best friend."

She led Erin by the hand until the child stood so close to the dragon she only had to reach out to touch the scales. Sunlight had lowered her head, and was looking at Erin with unblinking yellow eyes. Harrie remembered facing the same sight at fourteen, and being terrified. And now, twelve years later, her daughter held out a hand, and gently set it down on the dragon's nose.

"Oh," she laughed. "It tickles!"

"Her breath is very warm," Mathilda said. "She's got fire inside her. That's how she can fly for so long and in such cold temperatures without problem, you see?"

"Is it very cold up there?"

"Yes, but you'll be fine. You have a very pretty, warm hat, and I'll cast a Warming charm on you. Are you ready?"

"Yes!"

Mathilda grabbed her and climbed on the dragon with her, settling her in the saddle, sitting behind her. Harrie watched as the Hufflepuff took every precaution, strapping Erin in, casting the Warming charm, then the Slow Fall one, in case the tethers linking Erin to the dragon broke.

"All right, all set. Sunlight, up!"

The great wings flared open, blasting Harrie and Severus with a sudden gust of air. It seemed improbable that such a great beast could take to the air, and yet she did, and gracefully so, powering her wings and climbing up quickly.

"That must be so fun," Harrie said.

"In a way that makes you intensely aware of your own mortality."

"The best kind of fun," Harrie grinned.

Up above, Sunlight had finished her climb and was gliding forward, wings catching the wind. They stayed lower than the clouds, traveling in a straight line for a minute, then the dragon executed a sharp turn, followed by a dive. Harrie would have bet everything Erin was screaming with glee.

The dragon stabilized her dive, now flying much closer to the ground. She was coming straight for them, wings flapping hard.

She wasn't slowing down.

"No," Severus said.

"Oh, yes," Harrie said.

Excitement sparked along her nerves. While she knew they were safe, it was still quite something to have an enormous dragon flying directly toward you, looking every bit like a monster out of a nightmare.

As Sunlight was about to reach them, she suddenly twisted her body, doing a barrel roll just above their heads. Wind rushed in Harrie's ears. She heard a scream of delight, followed by a stream of giggles that rang like bells in the wake of the dragon's passage.

"I'll take a hundred points from Hufflepuff," Severus growled.

"I'm very curious to see how you'll achieve this, considering she hasn't been a student for four years."

"Any Hufflepuff will do. The first one to even blink at me wrong, as soon as classes resume."

"Sev..."

She took his hand, laid her head on his shoulder.

"Did you hear her laugh? That made her so happy. She's gonna be talking about this moment for weeks to come."

Severus grunted.

"I suppose I could show some leniency for that stunt."

"You can, and you will."

They watched Sunlight fly up again, turn right, head for the clouds. Her form disappeared, reappeared a minute later, dropping lower, lazily soaring.

There were several more diving maneuvers, and more slow flying, including another passage above their heads, where they heard Erin's giggly laugh.

"She got your love of flying as well," Severus said. "We should get her a small broom for her next birthday."

"Great idea."

Ten minutes later, the great black dragon touched down again, landing with a lurch. She emitted a low rumble that made the air vibrate and Harrie's small hair at her nape stand on end.

"She's happy!" Mathilda translated from her seat. "She loves your hatchling! I mean, your child."

"Of course she loves her," Severus said. "Who wouldn't love her? She's perfect."

"Remember you said that the next time she explodes all your newly brewed potions because she doesn't want to go to bed."

"Complicated but rewarding," he replied.

Sunlight made another rumbling sound, lowering her shoulder to the ground so her passengers could disembark easily. Mathilda dropped down first, then caught Erin as she was sliding down a wing.

"Did you have fun?" Harrie said.

"Yes! We went so high!"

"She's absolutely fearless," Mathilda said, eyes alight with mirth.

Erin approached Severus, looked up at him.

"My feet hurt," she said plaintively.

Worry flashed across Mathilda's face, and she glanced at Severus as if she expected to be cursed immediately for the unforgivable offense of having somehow hurt his child.

"She says that so we carry her, don't worry," Harrie said.

"Oh, that's sneaky. A future Slytherin, maybe?"

"No doubt about it," Severus said proudly, taking his daughter into his arms.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Harrie said.

"Hoping for Gryffindor, Harrie?" Mathilda said.

"Not particularly. I'll be happy wherever she ends up."

"You're spending Christmas at the Burrow this year?"

Harrie nodded.

"Oh, you'll be meeting Charlie's new boyfriend. He's all tall, brooding and silent. Bit of an odd bloke, but a wicked good dragon keeper. Sunlight likes him a lot."

"Will there be cake?" Erin asked.

"Plenty of cake," Harrie promised.

Erin made a noise of enjoyment.

"Can we go now?"

"We'll go tomorrow."

"But I want cake now!"

"Maybe she's a future Hufflepuff," Mathilda said, with a pondering smile.

"No child of mine shall be in Hufflepuff," Severus said stiffly.

"Hufflepuff would be lucky to have her," Harrie said.

Severus huffed.

"You're not coming to the Burrow, then?" Harrie asked Mathilda.

"No, we're heading to Romania, to the sanctuary. Sunlight wants to visit some old friends. Then it's back to work. I won't ever make Minister for Magic if I sit on my arse."

"Is that still your ambition?" Severus said, lifting an eyebrow, and Harrie felt how impressed he was by Mathilda's determination, though of course that didn't show at all in his tone.

"Yes. There are a lot of things to fix in the wizarding world, and I have to be at the top if I want people to listen to me. I don't want to rule, but sadly I'll have to."

"Admirable," Severus said. "Though I can't say I look forward to your rule."

"I'll have an oversight on the Hogwarts curriculum. Send me a letter with the changes you'd like to see. Both of you."

"A bribe?" Severus said. "Do you expect our public support in exchange?"

"Not at all. I simply trust that you know best what the kids should be learning compared to the pencil pushers at the Ministry. And besides, I'll have Harrie's support anyway."

"Of course," Harrie said.

"I pity your opponent," Severus said. "They'll have to attack you on your age alone. And perhaps the record number of detentions you got. Then again, they might get too scared of your dragon for any smear campaign."

"Oh no, Sunlight wouldn't hurt a fly."

"She did try to kill Harrie," Severus pointed out, coldly, an undercurrent of old resentment in his voice.

"Years ago, while Harrie was trying to steal an egg which she thought was real! That was a very cruel thing to do to her." Mathilda patted Sunlight's flank as the dragon gave a snort. "But it's all good, she's forgiven you. And she thinks you make a cute couple."

"Sorry, what?" Harrie said.

"Dragons are very sensitive when it comes to love and mating. They mate for life, you know. Sunlight could tell Charlie's ex wasn't good for him, and she can tell you're perfect for each other."

"We have a dragon's seal of approval," Severus said, deadpan. "I am ever so pleased."

"Thank you, Sunlight," Harrie said.

The dragon snorted, displaying her terrifying fangs for a moment. A deep rumble came out of her maw, displacing the snow in front of her.

"She says you should have more hatchlings," Mathilda translated. "Two is good, but more is better."

"More is better," Severus said, surprising Harrie. He adjusted Erin on his hip, who was happily clinging to her dad and playing with the buttons of his coat. "Don't you agree?" he added, sending Harrie such a warm smile.

"Three seems like a good number," she said, joy bubbling in her bloodstream.

"Four?" Severus suggested, with a matching wave of joy burning through the bond.

Harrie grinned at him. It had been so hard at the start to convince him to have even one child. He was so afraid he wouldn't be a good dad, so afraid to find himself responsible for a small human being, so afraid to open up his heart to someone else. Harrie had had to work on him a lot. There had been another list, and long discussions, until finally he had agreed to become a dad.

"Maybe four," Harrie said, then groaned as the baby gave a kick. "But not right away. This one is going to be a terror."

Mathilda climbed back into the saddle, gave a gentle pat to Sunlight.

"All right, I'll see you some time next year! Have a merry Christmas, and Harrie, keep that baby in there until January 9th! Bye bye!"

"Bye Auntie Mathilda! Bye Sunlight!"

They waved at them as the pair took off, watched as the dragon climbed high and soon disappeared above the clouds.

"Did you like your dragon ride, sweetheart?" Harrie said, tugging her daughter's hat straight, as it had started to slip.

"When can I go again?" Erin asked, with stars in her eyes.

"What it is about reckless flying that is so appealing to both of you?" Severus rumbled.

"We'll go together next time. You'll hear your dad scream."

"Daddy can scream?" Erin said, glancing curiously at Severus.

She had never, not once, heard Severus raise his voice. It was Harrie who was the strict parent when it was needed.

"Oh yes, he can. He'll scream in terror when Sunlight does that barrel roll move."

"I will not."

"Yes, you will."

"Not a chance."

They continued arguing as they walked back to their cottage, holding hands.

"I wanna hear the story again," Erin demanded.

Her favorite story, the story of how her parents had met and fallen in love. It was the kids' version of course, made all simple and soft and fluffy.

"It's your turn," Harrie said.

Severus smiled.

"There was once a very bad, noseless wizard..."