Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sirius Black leaned against the crumbling chimney of Grimmauld Place’s roof, the evening air sharp and biting against his skin. The London skyline sprawled before him, a jagged silhouette under a grey sky. His breath fogged in the chill, mingling with the faint smell of cigarette smoke lingering on his lips. The fag dangled loosely in his hand, forgotten for now as his gaze drifted upward, lost in the vastness above. Up here, alone, the world felt quieter, but his thoughts were anything but.

Harriet- Harrie- was downstairs, probably hunched over the stove, her green eyes fierce with determination even with something so simple as making tea. She was always thriving, always burning brighter than anyone had a right to in a world this dark. His goddaughter. His anchor. His… everything. The thought twisted in his gut, sharp and wrong, and he clenched his jaw against it.

Azkaban had hollowed him out, left him a husk of the man he’d been. Twelve years of Dementors leeching every happy memory- James’s grin, Remus’s laugh, the reckless nights of Marauder chaos- had nearly broken him. He’d been drowning in guilt, in rage, in the weight of failing the people he loved most. But then Harrie had stormed into his life, a hurricane of courage and heart, dragging him back from the edge. She was James’s fire and Lily’s steel, but more than that, she was her. Fierce, stubborn, impossibly alive. She’d made this cursed house feel less like a tomb, made him feel less like a ghost.

He tilted his head back, the clouds blurring as his thoughts spiraled. He was pining, and it was a betrayal. She was his goddaughter, for Merlin’s sake. The child of his best friends, entrusted to him to protect, not to… want. The word felt like a drug, heavy and forbidden. But he couldn’t stop it.

He’s not really sure when his feelings evolved, when they became less fatherly and more covetous. It seems so natural like breathing…inhale ‘she’s so beautiful’ exhale ‘smells so good’ inhale ‘Merlin that smile’ exhale ‘I don’t want her to leave’ inhale ‘I want her to stay’ exhale ‘I want her’.

Maybe.. maybe if he hadn’t spent so many years shackled in darkness, maybe if he’d been free to chase skirts and live his reckless life in peace.. well after losing James, it never would have been peaceful would it? No, it would have been dark, full of vengeance, anger, pain. But he’d have been free wouldn’t he? He would have found his distractions in between some random witches thighs. He could have drank the pain away. Tracked down every damned Death Eater and make them beg at the tip of his wand for mercy. And through it all he would have had only pure fatherly love for his little goddaughter.

But instead he was left to languish, his youth and vitality siphoned away by those fucking wraiths. His dreams-such as they were- left to rot along with his sanity behind the iron bars of his regrets. All that’s left now is a sick distortion of the wizard he used to be. Sure, he’s regained his physical health, his hair is back to its usual shine- thank fuck- he’s even added a few more tattoos- professionally done this time- to his collection. But the passion that used to fuel him, drove his every movement, is gone. No, not gone.. just redirected. Into her. Every move he makes is to bring him closer to her. Every breath he breathes is with the hope that he will be able to breathe her in. His plans, his longings his dreams are all for her.

“Sirius? Are you up here?”

Fuck. He stubs out his cigarette and turns away from the view in time to catch Harrie’s mess of hair ascending the ladder to the roof from the attic access window. His breath catches when her eyes drag up his body, assessing, always so perceptive. Can she see how badly he needs her? How his mouth practically waters at her scent? No, she mustn’t. She would be horrified to know how perverted her godfather truly is.

He’s tried, Merlin has he tried fucking the need for her out of him. He’s taken witches in every way he can think of, in the alley behind the pub, bent over the bench in the kitchen, on their knees like a bitch in heat, sweet and proper in a bed, but nothing has worked. All he wants is Harrie. And Godric, does he hate himself for it.

“I’ve been looking for you, you didn’t come home last night, and I can tell you haven’t eaten anything. Come down, I’ve made dinner, and opened one of those stupidly expensive bottles of your father’s wine.”

‘Such a good little witch, taking care of her daddy’ he thinks eyeing her “You’re too good to me, sweetheart.” He tries to keep the lust out of his voice, but he’s always been a flirt, it’s a hard habit to break.

Following her down the stairs, making a truly valiant effort (failing) to keep his eyes away from her arse (gorgeous), he resolves to keep his thoughts purely familial for the rest of the evening. Sirius Black is renowned for his self-control…

“You’ll never guess who I saw in the department of Muggle relations today! Umbridge! Can you believe it that shrew shouldn’t be let near any sentient creature let alone poor Muggles! I suppose that’s the only place they could stick her after everything… though I still would have preferred to see her in a cell in Azkaban.”

As she talks he watches her lips move. Each word spilling from her soft lips made his cock harden further and further. ‘Fuck. No. No. Do not think about those lips wrapped around your cock. How red would they get? No. Stop. What is she saying? Muggles. Not swollen lips spit shined and gasping for air. ‘You need to say something, she’s noticed you’re staring at her mouth.’ “Interesting, what did you do then” there, that’s nice and vague.

“Oh nothing, Dwalish made me trek all the way over there just to deliver my stupid report straight to Fisher’s desk so I only stayed long enough to give her a healthy glare and then got right the hell out of there. Do I have something in my teeth?”

‘Fuck. Don’t say you’re imagining her on her knees choking on your cock. Definitely do not say that.’ “No baby, I’m just caught in my head today.” ‘Yeah that’s good, nice and innocent, still said head, but nobody’s perfect.’

“Dinner was fantastic, let’s take our wine in the sun room.”

“You hardly touched your food, are you okay?”

“Just fine baby, come on.”

The sun room is a beautiful place, all glass set into the back of the house surrounded by the garden Harrie had been diligently bringing back to life in her spare time. It’s so beautiful, they spend most of their evenings here, sitting on the same love seat, the record player dragged in from his room, playing whatever their current obsession happens to be.

It’s absolute bliss as far as he’s concerned. The wine was making him feel warm, loosening his tongue, smoothing out his inhibitions, maybe he should have eaten a bit more at dinner. The girl by his side, soft, warm, pliant, leaning into him where she belongs. She smells like honey, so fucking sweet he feels it on his tongue, dripping down his throat. He wants to lick her. Stick his nose into her cunt and bathe in that scent until it soaks into his skin and becomes part of him too.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks so softly he might have missed it, as lost as he is in his imaginings.

Now’s the time, if there was a time.. this could be it. You can tell her you fancy her. Tell her you need to touch her, even if it’s just the one time. “Nothing, sweetheart. Just brooding, I suppose. Pink Floyd always makes me maudlin.”

“We can switch the record. Listen to something happier? The Beach Boys? Led Zeppelin?” Her chin lifts to rest on his chest, her green eyes looking into his. As if it’s taken on a mind of its own, his hand raises to brush her cheek with his knuckles. He hardly dares to breathe as he watches his thumb brush along her lower lip, stroking it reverently.

Harrie quickly sucked air in through her parted lips, stiffening from her previously languid position over his chest.

“Harrie- I-Sorry. I’m sorry.. fuck. Just- just forget I did that.”

“No! No- I- it’s okay. You’re okay.” She grabs onto his hand before he can take it away, pressing it further onto her cheek.

He froze then. Searching her eyes. Trying to divine any clue as to what she may be thinking.. feeling. His grip on her face shifted. Gryffindor courage rising to the surface, madness swift on its heels. With her chin gripped in between his fingers he brings her closer until he is breathing her breath, hot little puffs striking his lips.

Licking the taste of her breath from his lips he rumbles “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t touch you. Not like this.”

“But I want you, too. Please. Please kiss me Siri.”

Releasing her jaw he stands gripping his hair and pacing away toward the glass wall of the sunroom. The sun had set some time ago and the room now feels like a glass bauble submerged into the depths of the ocean. His reflection appears as frantic as he feels.

“You can’t want this Harrie. I’m old enough to be your father. You’re my best mate’s daughter! He’s dead but I’m pretty certain he’d still find a way to come back and kick my arse. You’re my goddaughter for Merlin’s sake!”

As every doubt and fear fell from his lips, the stubborn tilt to her chin deepened.

“First off Sirius Black, I do want this, I want you. I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I don’t care how old you are. I don’t care who you knew or were friends with. I would like to think my father would understand that the Potter heart chooses who it chooses and nothing can shake it. My heart chose you. So if you could please kiss me now, I would really appreciate it!”

She had moved closer to him while she spoke. She reached her hands up to grip on to his elbows, his hands still clutched in his hair behind his neck. Exerting just a little pressure she brought his arms down and ran her hands back up to the spot where his had just been. His own hands rise to hold her hips, keeping her at a distance as much as fighting the desire to bring her in closer.

He laughed- a sound choked off halfway between a protest and the relief of a man who’d been holding his breath too long. For a moment his hands stayed at her hips like a guard, fingers splayed, thumbs pressing into the fabric of her dress to keep himself anchored in the moment rather than floating off into the abyss of his ocean of regrets. Then, slowly, he relents, his hands slide up her trim little waist. One settles at the nape of her neck, the other curves around the small of her back and draws her in.

She answers the motion, tipping her chin up. Their lips meet in a kiss that’s at first both clumsy and reverent- the kiss of two people used to craving a loving touch that would never come. Wine and confession had taken the edge off fear; the kiss was soft at the beginning, testing, then deepened as certainty spread between them like warmth.

Sirius’s fingers thread into her hair cupping her skull to ease the strain on her neck; Harrie’s hands press against his chest, feeling the silk of his shirt and the pounding of his heart. He hesitated and pulled back for a breath, eyes hooded. “Harrie,” he said into the curve of her mouth, the name an apology and an invocation. “Are you- are you really certain? I couldn’t live with myself if you come to regret this.”

Her answer is a small sigh that turned into a whisper. “Yes,” she said. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I need you…have for years.”

That seemed to do what nothing else had, the last of his resistance broke. He bent his head and kissed her again, harder now, with the kind of urgency that was borne from years of wanting. The backs of her knees pressed into the loveseat; she shifted her weight so their bodies aligned, and his hand slipped down to cup her arse, pressing her into his growing erection.

They moved as if rediscovering an old map- familiar landmarks, new trails. His mouth left hers to trail along her jaw, then her throat, and each place he touched made her breath hitch. She tangled her fingers in his hair and moaned her desire out into the quiet of the sunroom. This was a dance he was quite familiar with, the retreat and advance of lips and hands on skin. But this time, this time is was so fucking much more. This was passion in its purest form.

He’d experienced love before, he loved James and Remus like brothers. His love for Regulus was complex and tangled. He even thought he may have loved Marlene at one point. But this, Merlin this feeling was so much more than any of that. It was fire beneath his skin. It was as if his love had expanded within his body the way the night sky pressed against the earth- seemingly endless and immeasurable. Too much for one body to hold.

When at last they eased apart for air, their foreheads rested together, laughter and rawness mingling. “Now darling,” he murmured, voice rough with something like wonder, “now I can finally have you. Fuck, baby, I am going to ruin you.”

“I know,” she said, and kissed him again, biting his lip- this time with the promise of all the things she’d imagined while she was alone in her bed. “Just… please daddy. I need you.”

They both paused… not even daring to move. Sirius had never been more shell shocked. Hearing her call him Daddy... after everything, all of his reservations about her age, his unworthiness... hearing that name from her lips made his cock throb. He was truly going to hell. Perhaps he ought to enjoy himself while he's here. “I- I’m sorry. That slipped out. Pretend I didn’t say that!”

“Oh but baby, I would like nothing more than to hear you call me that many, many more times. In fact, I think I’ll make you scream it.”

He picks her up and lays her down on the love seat, sliding his hand between her legs slowly, fingers finding her sweet little knickers already damp. Pushing them to the side he slides his fingers through her slick folds, relishing in the sound of her arousal.

Gently he begins to circle her clit. On every third circle her gives a little tap directly on it, sending zings of pure pleasure through her body. At the same time he is sucking little marks into the smooth pale skin of her throat. She begins to hitch her hips up to match the rhythm of his fingers and her hands run up and down his back, mapping out the lean muscles there. Suddenly he leans back on to his heels, gathering his hair back he ties it into a messy bun, using a band he keeps on his wrist. His hands quickly find the hem of her dress and he quickly pulls it up and off her body revealing soft, silky skin and the most perfect set of breasts he’s ever seen.

“Fuck, I’ve imagine these beautiful breasts so many times. Never even got close. So perfect Harrie. So perfect for daddy.”

Her lithe little body is flushed in patches that reach from her cheeks down to her chest. She shivers slightly under his intense gaze. He runs his hands slowly up her waist, letting her feel his calloused fingers rough against her smooth skin. When he reaches her breasts, he plucks at her nipples, listening to the sweet little sounds spilling from her lips.

As she begins to writhe on the couch, one of his hands drifts back down to her knickers, which he notes are in crimson with a little gold bow. The wet spot has only grown, and when her brushes against it the scent that is stirred up makes his mouth water.

Slowly, he beings to peel away the last bit of cloth hiding her body away from his gaze. “Oh baby, you’re so beautiful. I want you so much. Want to taste every inch of you. Want to make you come so hard. You’ll let me have you, won’t you baby? Let daddy make you feel so good?”

“Please Siri, please.”

He released a gust of breath and bent over her, burying his face into her neck. "Harrie, I love you. I love you, so much." He kissed and licked her neck as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He kissed his way to her lips and breathed, "I love you." As his tongue slid into her mouth, his free arm went under her back, and two fingers of his right hand slid into her tight channel.

His thumb circled over her throbbing clit. She groaned and rocked her hips against him.

"You are so fucking wet baby," he groaned. "I need you. I need to be inside you." He nipped at her lower lip and his tongue swept over her lips to her jaw before drawing back to whisper in her ear. "I want to feel your hot little cunt swallow my cock. Want to feel you come all over me."

His thumb kept circling her clit in tortuous little circles, his fingers inside her rubbing against that sponges spot that he knew would drive her mad. The little gasps and moans she allowed to pass her lips were fucking addictive, he wanted to make her lose all control. He wanted to make her scream. When he began to feel a telling fluttering in her muscles he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat back.

With a confused and disgruntled whine she went to grab at his shirt "Siri, Daddy. I want… I want…"

"What do you want, baby?"

“Want you please! Don’t stop you said you wouldn’t stop!”

A growl vibrated up from his chest. "Shhh baby. I know, I know what you need. I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel you grip me so tight with your perfect little cunt."

He reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, mussing his hastily tied back hair. He watched as she took in his toned chest, his many tattoos, feeling that familiar sense of male pride that his woman wanted him, was dripping wet all for him. With that little boost of confidence he began to unbutton his denims a little slower. His cock was straining against the material, and he watched as her eyes dropped to his prominent bulge. Swallowing back a growl, he peeled his trousers off, as usual he had gone commando so as he straightened, she was greeted by the sight of his aching cock, the tip red and leaking. He couldn’t hold back the next growl as he watched her lick her lips at the sight.

He needed to be inside her. Now. He grabbed her ankle and softly tugged it around his hip as he shifted to kneel between her thighs. Running his hand from her ankle up her calf, to the back of her thigh and then further up to the globe of her arse, he sank his fingers into the supple flesh he found there. His other hand gripped his cock and began to run the tip between her folds slicking himself with her wetness.

"You're so sweet, so wet for me baby. Daddy’s going to give you his cock and make you feel so good."

He pushed against her opening; he was not a small man; it was going to take a bit of work to ease his way into her tight little hole. She gasped when he began to breach her.

"Shhh It'll hurt a little baby, but I'll help you. It won't hurt very long." He began to circle her clit again, a faster pace than he had before and began to rock his way inside her in smooth little glides. He could tell she was a little uncomfortable but the list he found in her eyes encouraged him to keep going.

"Daddy, it stings."

"I know. I know love." He continued rubbing at her clit, in tight little circles, keeping enough pressure to take her focus off the uncomfortable stretch. He pushed and slid in a bit further. He shuddered. "You feel so good. You’re doing so well for daddy, just a little further love."

He shifted his grip on her arse and lifted her hips to alighting himself with her entrance more fully. His eyes rose to hers, his chest heaving for restraining himself. "I need…fuck, just one last push baby, then it will be so much better. Let me in sweetheart. Let me have you." His hand left her clit and moved to her hip to her other hip both hands grabbing tighter, his fingers pressing into her skin. His spread his thighs and thrusted slowly but with intent. He looked down to where they were joined and slowly thrust his full length into her, shuddering, his hair falling into his face.

“Ah- Siri!” She cried so beautifully once she was fully stuffed with his cock.

He threw his head back, his eyes shut, his nostrils flared. "Feel that baby, it’s like coming home. You were made for me. Your tight little cunt was made to take my cock.”

His eyes opened slowly. He leaned forward bracing one hand by her head, he took hold of her hand that had gripped on to his thigh, and he slid her fingers down to where they were joined. "I want you to feel how wet you are."

He pulled out just a bit, and she gasped feeling him move but inside her and the slippery steel of his cock against her fingers. Her fingers traced him to the root and further back to brush against his sack.

He groaned, "Oh, Harrie, touching me like that…"

She pulled her fingers away and he grabbed her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. He inhaled her honey sweet scent and said, "Do you taste as sweet as you smell baby?"

He sucked her fingers in to his mouth, his tongue curling around and over each one, cleaning them thoroughly and once he was done he placed a kiss to the center of her palm. He moved her hand back down to his abdomen and said, “feel me take you love.” And then, he began to move.

He started with slow even strokes only leaving her cunt a short way, enough to give some friction but not to leave her feeling empty.

"You are mine, Harrie. You have been since the moment I first saw you." He moved his hand between their bodies again, his thumb sliding back to her clit, stroking and rubbing over the slippery wet nub.

He bent over her and licked into her mouth, whispering into the wet cavern, "now I want to feel you cum. I want to feel you cum around my cock."

He began to pick up speed, matching his tempo with the pressure he was placing on her clit. He fucked her moth with his tongue at the same time, claiming it for his own just as thoroughly. He started to feel her inner muscles quiver; she was getting close. Her breathing becoming uneven gasps and moans, her little hands scratching and gripping onto any piece of him she could reach.

He breathed into her ear. "I feel you getting hotter. You're so close baby, you can let go, I’ll catch you." He groaned as he thrust slowly and steadily into her keeping an easy but dominating rhythm.

She gasped, hearing his voice her hand raising to clutch onto his back, her legs circling his waist, heel’s digging into his ass, trying to spur him into a faster pace. She was moaning his name at the feeling of his hardness sliding slowly in and out, caressing her from the inside.

“Ah, please! Faster daddy, please!”

"You're going to take what I give you baby," he whispered, the smooth tone of his voice betrayed by the pounding of his heart and his stuttered breathing. "And when you cum, you're going to clamp down on my cock and squeeze it so…"

She came so suddenly, he barely had time to pull his face back to watch as her eyes rolled back and her mouth opened into the most sinful whine. Watching her face relax into the bliss he had given her almost made him come right then.

"Ah, gnnnh- ah ah, God." She cried shuddering under him as his hips thrust against her, balls slapping early against her slick pussy. Each pulse of her orgasm attempting to milk him of his seed.

“Fuck, good- good girl, good girl, coming so hard on daddy’s cock.”

He increases his pace, fucking into her with firm, steady strokes, grinding into the spongy wall inside her, stoking a second orgasm on the heels of her first. “Mine, this cunt is mine.” He growls, Padfoot feeling a little closer to the surface than usual. Both sides of him wanting to claim the little witch below him.

Harrie was mewling beneath him, steady streams of nonsensical noises falling from her lips. Sirius’ cock filling her to the brim with every thrust. He could feel his own end approaching but he needed to feel her come apart around him one more time- wanted to spill into her welcoming heat while her body convulsed with pleasure around him.

He leans down and sucks at her pink nipples, her cries turning sharper, more desperate. When her voice begins to break, he sucks hard on her nipple and pinches her clit between his thumb and finger.

“Ahhh! Daddy!” Harrie’s orgasm hits her like lightning, and she screams out her pleasure into the room.

With two more thrusts he follows her into orgasm, the tip of his cock meeting the end of her channel and spilling his seed directly into her womb.

“That’s it, take it baby. Every- ah- drop.”

A few more final thrusts and he collapses on top of her. His head buried in her neck licking the sweat from her skin, gasping out the last vestiges of his pleasure into her hair.

Pulling back to look into her eyes, he smoothed her hair back from his face and kisses her sweetly.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. I have so many regrets but loving you will never be one of them.”

“I love you too Sirius. Would it be weird to say I’m really glad my parents named you my godfather?”

He groaned and laughed darkly, burying his head back into her hair.

Chapter Text

Severus Snape never took chances. He had plans and back up plans and emergency back up plans. When Dumbledore called him into his office that evening and finally revealed the role that Potter played in the coming war- and the sacrifice she would be expected to make, he decided it was time to make use of those plans.

His first stop was to his office. He gathered the bags he had prepared for just such an event, as well as a nondescript, slim book from his overflowing bookshelf. He stopped at the door, surveying the space one final time, no emotion showing on his face, merely the practiced look of boredom and condescension that usually graced his face inside these stone corridors.

His next stop was to the kitchens. He requested the elves to pack several days worth of food, which they hastened to do with their usual obnoxious exuberance. Food secured, he lightened the packages and placed them into his bags as well, shrinking them in their entirety and placing them into one of the pockets in his voluminous robes.

The next part of his plan would be far more challenging to complete. He would need to go about this step with absolute precision. He couldn’t been seen; discovery at this stage would cause significant delays, time he didn’t have. He cast a disillusionment spell and found a classroom close to the Gryffindor common room.

The classroom was dark, lit only by the faint shimmer of moonlight that leaked through the high, narrow windows. He stood alone, his wand heavy in his hand, his chest tight with something akin to anxiety. Not an unfamiliar feeling, but certainly an unwelcome one, given what he was about to attempt. The spell was simple in theory, an elegant expression of magic and magician working in harmony. Expecto Patronum. But casting this spell had been anything but easy for him. Happy memories were not a currency he dealt in often.

He whispered the incantation, his voice a rasp. A thin wisp of silver mist drifted from the tip of his wand, pale and weak, flickering as though uncertain it belonged in this place. It dissipated before it reached the far end of the room. His jaw clenched. His grip on the wand tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“Focus on a happy memory,” he muttered under his breath- words he’d heard repeated with careful patience when he was a student. Happy memories. The irony was bitter. What fragments of joy he owned had long ago been poisoned by regret. Any new memories he had been able to form were tainted by the burdens of war.

He tried again, allowing his mind to drift to a place he never ventured. These memories were locked so deeply behind his shields, when they finally surfaced it came as almost a surprise to him. The warmth of her voice as she laughed in the halls. Green eyes bright with curiosity and wonder. Long hair tangled in windswept waves. And then, that night. The night she had forced her way into his most intimate memories, coming out of his pensive with tears in her eyes, and apologies on her lips. He had raged at her. Belittled and towered over her trying to intimidate her into a retreat. But she had just looked at him with those fucking eyes of hers, no pity in her face, just understanding- compassion perhaps but no pity. And then most outrageous of all, she stepped forward and hugged him. Her slim little arms, wrapped around his waist and her lithe little body pressed against him. She hugged him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged. It was probably her mother who had been the last to attempt it.

He closed his eyes, teeth grinding together until he tasted blood. He had no choice. He needed this spell. For her. Always for her.

“Expecto Patronum.”

This time the silver burst forth in a violent flare, spilling across the stones like a flood before coalescing, reluctantly, into a shape. A doe, pearlescent and luminous, stood in the dark, her delicate head bowed. She turned her liquid eyes toward him, and he felt the hot stab of longing run through him. Now was not the time for such sentiments. He needed to make her safe first.

The doe lingered for a heartbeat longer, then turned to complete the directions he had given her. He was left once more in the darkness of the empty room.

The following minutes felt like a small eternity, but Severus was nothing if not a patient man. There was no room for hesitation or second guessing himself in the actions that needed to come next. He backed into the deepest shadows of the room and shifted his focus to the door.

A soft sound- no louder than a whisper of fabric on stone- and the door to the classroom opening was the only clue he was given that Potter had arrived. He wasted not a second longer and sent a nonverbal and overpowered stunning spell right to where he knew her center of gravity would be, followed quickly by a cushioning charm at the ground beneath it. The sound of a body hitting the ground announced his aim had been true.

Carefully he made his way towards where he estimated she had fallen. Reaching out he encountered what felt like a body wrapped in silk. Gripping the fabric he slowly uncovered the unconscious form of Harriet Potter. He had long suspected Potter had some way of becoming invisible- knowing her skill level (or lack there of) a cloak of invisibility made sense. “For once, bringing me something of actual value, Potter” he murmured quietly. Looking at her face, he could imagine she was just sleeping. The urge to reach out was overwhelming. But there was work that remained and they still had a long road ahead of them.

Covering her once more he cast a featherlight charm on her and lifted her over his shoulder, ensuring she was completely covered by the cloak. He cast a sticking charm so he could carry her more naturally without it being obvious he was transporting a body. He cast a disillusionment spell on himself as added protection and exited the classroom, walking several corridors away and traversing several staircases before dropping the disillusionment. The portraits of Hogwarts were notorious gossips, he knew showing himself going about his usual business of stalking dark halls looking for rule breakers and mischief makers would go unremarked upon. Finally he exited the castle altogether, making his way towards the forest.

He would regularly go foraging for potion’s ingredients at all hours of the night and day so if Dumbledore were to feel a disturbance in the wards from him, he would discount it. As soon as he crossed the boundary of the wards, he pulled the small book from his cloak, wrapped his arm around the limp girl slung over his shoulder and activated his emergency international portkey.

When Severus and Potter reappeared, it was not in a deciduous forest, but a rainforest. He quickly disapperated away, jumping several more times until finally he reached their destination. A cabin, two rooms, nothing unique or descriptive about it, tucked into a remote valley, surrounded by forested hills. Easily defendable, and a quick apparition to the magical area of Cuzco, Peru.

He carried Harriet inside and gently laid her on the bed in one of the rooms. Conjuring a glass of water for her bedside table, he left- choosing not to lock the door behind him. Finally, arriving to the last stage of his plan, he began to ward the area surrounding the cottage with every ward, dark and light, he could think of.

Returning back inside he set about unpacking his bags. His personal affects went into the second room, the food he had gotten from the elves went into the kitchen, and the bag of things he had gathered for Harriet was placed on the floor near her door. All tasks accomplished he made tea and settled in to wait out the calm before the storm.

———-

Harriet raged at him for kidnapping her. She made demands to return her to the castle. She made useless threats that she had no hope of carrying through, with or without her wand, which he had no intention of returning to her. He would be amused at such a display if it weren’t for the mounting frustration he felt at having her so near, constantly.

They quickly developed a routine. She woke in the morning, making her snide comments, slamming about in the kitchen, making enough food to feed only herself- not a problem since he’d been awake for hours and had already eaten. She moved her thunder cloud presence into the cottage’s small sitting room to read some of the books he had stocked in it prior to their arrival, and surreptitiously practices her wandless magic.

It’s adorable really, though he’d rather be crucioed than ever admit it. Her face flushes with exertion, her hands tremble with the strain, the way she seems to believe she is being secretive about it. All of it, so amusing to witness, and fuck does that frustrate him. At the very least, he wished he could provide a few lessons on it so she won’t give herself a hernia in the process.

In any case, it was likely she would rather be crucioed as well than to listen to any pointers he had, so he kept his mouth shut and attempted to ignore her.

He leaves regularly, he has his own secret work to do after all, though he is far more successful at hiding it from her. He is researching ways to remove a horcrux from a living host. He visits shamans. And medicine men from the ancient tribes in the Amazon. He visits the ancient libraries of the Incans. He is successful in finding some information on horcrux but it seems as if no one has ever used a living vessel for their soul. Soon he will start having to venture further for more information.

Every evening he makes dinner while she watches. She’s stopped asking him so many questions. Perhaps she grew tired of his terse non-answers. He hasn’t told her why he kidnapped her. She’s made the assumption that Dumbledore requested he take her somewhere safe and so far he has let her believe that.

After their meals, they both returned to their respective bedrooms. He waits awake and alert in his room for several hours for her inevitable “secret” venture to the front door of the cabin, where she tries to wandlessly unlock the front door for hours before giving up and trudging back to bed.

Eventually his research necessitates his absence from the cabin for days at a time. The fact that he is capable of the complex magic necessary to make illegal international portkeys shortens that time considerably but doesn’t eliminate it entirely. This means he will have to speak with Harriet. He is not foolish enough to believe he will escape without giving her at least some information.

He chooses the morning when she has just woken, having known her for several years at this point he is well aware that this is when he will find her at her dimmest. The slower she is, the fewer questions he will have to navigate and the less perceptive she will be.

“I will be leaving this afternoon and will remain away for several days, perhaps a week” he begins with no preamble.

Potter simply blinks back at him. Fuck, she’s so beautiful like this. Sleep soaked and soft. Almost vulnerable.

“What? Where are you going? You can’t just leave me here with no wand!”

“I believe you heard me. I am going abroad. I think you’ll find that I can.”

“Snape! You kidnapped me! You can’t just abandon me! You need to tell me something! Please! What is happening? Why did you take me? Why hasn’t Dumbledore come to see us?“

With a gusty sigh, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dumbledore does not know where we are. He will not be visiting. I took you away because he wants you dead and I would rather watch the world burn than to allow that. I am leaving because I am looking for a way to remove the parasitic sliver of the Dark Lord’s souls from that scar on your forehead. I am trying, you foolish girl, to protect you”

The silence following his response was absolute. He had not planned to tell her so much. But after months of watching her fret and stew in her frustration and listening to her constant begging and despair, his patience had run thin. He wanted her to understand. He needed her to know. He was trying, however successfully, to help her. No one else could, or would do what it took to save her. To put her first. But he would. Damn the world and everyone in it. He would save her. Even if he had to break her heart to do it.

Explaining took some time. He left out quite a bit, he wanted her informed enough so she wouldn’t keep trying to escape, but not enough to feel she had to become a fucking martyr. When he was finished he stood to leave.

“Can I trust you to take care of yourself and not attempt to leave the premises while I am away?”

She looked up at him with baleful eyes. “I can help you look. It’s my life. I should be out looking for a way to get this out of my head. Not stuck here doing nothing. I need to do something Snape.” She stands and approaches him. Tentative hands reach for him. Glancing down at them he makes a quick decision, perhaps a regrettable one. He steps forward into her hands. The slight weight of them on his chest is negligible, but the heat of them burns through the button down he has taken to wearing in the new humid climate.

Resting his hands on hers, he allows himself this small gesture of comfort, he stares into her eyes. “I have done this, all of this, to keep you safe. To keep you from being found. I cannot allow you to leave and risk that.”

“But you are risking yourself too! You left Voldemort. He has to have people out looking for you.”

His hands tightened over hers the slightest of tremors running through them betraying the fear he was barely keeping in check.

“My safety is… immaterial.” He said at last, voice low and smooth as velvet. “ if the Dark Lord finds me then so be it. I made my choice long ago. But you-“ his eyes flickered over her face as if memorizing it, lingering where they shouldn’t. “You cannot afford such recklessness. I will not lose you to his grasp. Do you understand? I would rather risk every ounce of myself than see you dragged before him, or sacrificed for the greater good.”

The last words fell harsher than he intended, too naked, too close to confession. He broke the gaze first, jaw tight, as if reasserting the mask before she could look deeper. Stepping back once more he turned and strode out of the cabin, locking the door behind him and throwing the door wards back up. He was not running away. He was making a tactical fucking retreat before he did something absurd like kiss her.

——

Five days later he arrived back at the cottage, the frustration of finding not nearly enough information, shadowing his face. He enters the cabin cautiously. It was still very early, he was not likely to find Harriet awake, but just in case he tread carefully, prepared for an ambush.

What he didn’t expect was to hear noises from her bedroom. Noises he would definitely never expect to hear from her at all, at any time of day. Quiet little moans and huffs of breath make it all too evident what she was doing.. or perhaps dreaming about. He couldn’t make his body move. Couldn’t take the steps that would bring him to his own quarters, nor even so much as twitch his wand enough to cast a silencing spell to end his torment.

Of course she would do this. As if her constant presence wasn’t enough, she had to add this.. this torture as well. Well fuck that. He had been forged in fire, tortured by the Dark Lord more times than he cares to think about. She would not break him. He moved to his room silently. His hand had just reached the knob when the wordless cries echoing from the room next door suddenly coalesced into one long drawn out cry, the syllables formed into the most astonishing… fucking unbelievable sound he had ever heard. In fact he was quite certain he didn’t hear it. He must have already fallen asleep. There is no possibility that Harriet Potter had just cried out his name while climaxing.

He turned swiftly and walked, walked damnit, back out of the cottage and disapperated back to the city. They were low on potions ingredients and he needed to go grocery shopping. He was not running away.

——

He returned hours later, convinced that he had imagined the entire ordeal. He had not slept well while so far away from Harriet and was simply experiencing auditory hallucinations due to sleep deprivation.

When he deposited the goods he had purchased in the city onto the kitchen bench he heard Harriet enter the kitchen behind him. Turning to look at her he was shocked for the second time that morning.

Usually Harriet dressed in the day clothing he had procured for her. Tshirts and jeans. Staples he knew she was fond of. But this morning, she had decided to forgo the jeans and had on only the Tshirt. It was long enough to meet her mid thighs but hardly presentable to be seen in by her professor. Her long hair was unbound and flowing in messy waves down her back. She looked as sleep mussed and disoriented as usual for this time of day but there was a definite shift in her that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“You’re back” she said as she ambled over to the bags of food he had deposited on the bench.

“Obviously”

“Did you find anything?” She wasn’t looking at him as she said this, just began busying herself with putting the food away. He was not looking anywhere near her legs. Or her arse.

“Nothing of substance and nothing I had not already suspected.”

“Well, what did you learn?”

“Basilisk venom can be used to destroy a horcrux, which is why you were able to destroy the diary in your second year. But as you were also injected with the venom and the horcrux within you was not destroyed but rather your body was almost destroyed, we can rule that out as a viable solution.”

“What else can destroy a horcrux?”

“Fiendfyre”

“Oh”

“Quite. I shall have to keep looking.”

“What if there isn’t anything? What if I am stuck with this inside me and the only way to get rid of it is for me to die?”

“You will not die!” He snarled whirling towards her and grabbing her arms shaking her slightly. “I will not allow it.”

She looked into his eyes not with fear but with the absolute certainty of trust. She rose to her tip toes and kissed him. A soft ephemeral thing, a kiss of butterfly wings and gossamer silk. But the fire that it lit inside him became an inferno before her lips had even parted from his.

Suddenly he was using his grip on her arms to pull her forward. Slotting her little body into his, he had to bend his a considerable distance and the discomfort of keeping their lips together was inexcusable. Distractions were intolerable now, not when his thrice-damned life had, at last, yielded something this perfect.

He lifted her onto the bench, his hand coming to the front of her throat to lift her chin so he could seal his mouth to hers more firmly. His other hand went to her waist, pulling her closer to him as he stepped between her open thighs. Harriet gasped into his mouth as the kiss turned desperate, his erection, stiffening to the point of pain at the sound, pressed into the junction of her thighs. The heat he felt there nearly made him moan.

The kiss devolved from there, Harriet buried her hands deep into his hair and used her leverage to pull him even closer while her hips rocked into him, delivering little jolts of friction onto his already aching cock. When she reached for his belt he stoped her with a hand on her wrist. At her sound of frustration he pulled back.

“I am not taking your virginity next to the kitchen sink.”

“How did you know I’m a virgin?”

“I assumed, and you have just confirmed. I am aware patience is a foreign concept for Gryffindors but I do urge you to try.”

“Ugh”

Laughing darkly he tilted her head up so that her gaze met his. “We should probably talk before this moves any further. This is-“

“No, please let me stop you right there Severus- can I call you Severus? It doesn’t matter, I’m going to call you Severus anyways. Severus, I know you’re older than me. I don’t care. I think you’re the most beautiful man I have ever seen. I think it’s your eyes, or your nose, maybe how intense you are. I dunno. You’re just beautiful. I want you. I have wanted since I was old enough to think about wanting someone. I am of age. I’m technically not your student anymore. There is no argument that you can make that will make me change my mind.”

Severus’ mouth had dropped open at some point during her diatribe and he could not yet bring himself to close it. If he did not know her as well as he did, he would have accused her of lying, but Harriet was a truly abysmal liar. No, everything she said was the truth. She- she was attracted.. to him. She wanted him.

“So, will you please fuck me now? I mean, you know, if you want to of course. You do want to right?”

“Yes Potter, I do very much want to fuck you” he growled.

“Oh, great. Bedroom then?”

Sighing, Severus bent his head and said “yes, you reckless girl. Bedroom.”

Without any further warning he lifted her in this arms, his hands under her arse, her legs wrapped around his waist, and carried her into his room. Dropping her legs to the floor he looked at her carefully.

“You will tell me at any point if you feel uncomfortable or wish to stop.”

“Yes. Can- can I touch you? I want-“

“What do you want Harriet?” He says, brushing her long wild hair back from her cheek.

“I want- I want to see you. I want to see all of you.”

“Very well.” He kisses her then. Sweetly. A distinct difference from their kiss in the kitchen. Harriet was a virgin and he wanted this too fervently to fuck it up by rushing it. He will move slowly, sweetly, he will seduce her in the way she deserved.

He started on the buttons of his shirt, quickly undoing each one but her hot little hands beat him to slipping it off over his shoulders. She ran her hands down his pectorals and over his lean abdominals, her nails catching lightly on his many scars. Her fingers began to fumble with his belt, making it painfully clear that she had never removed another’s belt before. Stilling her attempts he made short work of it and then removed his trousers and pants in one. His cock was painfully hard and leaking. He was not a small man and he was aware the sight would likely intimidate her so he grabbed her face and kissed her again, grunting when his sensitive tip nudged her belly, smearing precum over her night shirt.

Harriet quickly responded to the kiss with all of the passion Gryffindor’s are known for. Her hands though were tentative when they continued on their path south. When she reached his cock, they brushed his length softly, far too softly for him to gain any real satisfaction from it, but just knowing that it was her who was touching him caused him to shudder with repressed desire. He was so close to ripping her knickers off and bending her over the bed, but he was determined to do this right.

Grabbing her hand in his he wrapped her fingers around his stiff length and applied the pressure he preferred, moving her hand up and down, demonstrating how he liked to be touched. He allowed her to experiment with his body for as long as he could stand but when she began to kneel he stopped her.

“I want to taste you, please” and fuck if that wasn’t the one thing he never thought he would ever say no to.

“Harriet, if you put your mouth on me right now I will not be able to stop myself from spilling down your throat and I would really much prefer to fuck my come into your sweet little pussy instead.”

A brilliant blush erupted on her fair cheeks and she gasped a bit at his language, not used to hearing her dour professor speak with such vulgarity.

“Next time?” Fuck she was going to kill him with those innocent eyes and that hopeful smile, asking so sweetly to suck his cock.

“Yes. Next time.”

He cupped her face gently between his hands and kissed her again, licking into her mouth. Her hands migrated to the hem of her shirt and then she lifted it quickly over her head. Severus couldn’t help but stare. She was left standing in front of him in only a pair of plain white knickers, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the waistband. Her breasts were full and tipped with the sweetest pink nipples he could have ever imagined, her fair skin is smooth and slightly freckled. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was almost afraid to touch such perfection, not wanting to sully her beauty with his perpetually potion stained hands or his lank hair, but then he caught her own assessing stare and saw his own hunger reflected back at him. She really did want him.

He was by no means conventionally attractive, he was fit, had some muscle definition but nothing like what he had heard witches whisper about in the corridors. Harriet didn’t seem to mind one bit. In fact, she had begun rubbing her thighs together in a clear bid to get more friction to her throbbing clit. He decided he had better help her with that endeavor.

He backed her up towards the bed, pushing her to lay down, and crawled up after her, his mouth settling on her pulse, sucking and worrying at it with his teeth. When she began to writhe he slipped his leg between her thighs, and pressed his own up tightly against her damp knickers, using his hand on her hip to encourage her to rock against him. Her breathing quickly became labored as her rocking sped up, moans starting to slip between her lips- little kitten noises- as her desire mounted. She was soaking his thigh now and he abandoned her neck in favor of seeking her stiff peaks.

His lips pressed first just above one nipple, then dropped to close around it, teeth grazing as his tongue worried the little nub gently. She made another sound- high and breathy- that had him taking more of her breast into his mouth, sucking harder, his teeth pressing bluntly into her skin. His cock was so hard it bordered on painful, trapped tight and leaking against her thigh. Her knickers were soaked, slick against him, and he could hear the obscene sounds of her cunt grinding against him, it was nearly enough to drive him mad.

Suddenly she stiffened and cried out, her body trembling under him, he looked up quickly, with enough time to see the bliss overtake her delicate features. Her thighs loosened from where they had clamped around his own, his upper leg drenched in her slick. He leaned down and dragged her knickers from her body, inhaling her sweet sex as he went.

“You come so beautifully Harriet. Can you come again for me? Shall we see?”

He slid his hand down to her soaked center, his  fingers sliding gently over her swollen lips, to the very center of her before sliding one and then quickly two fingers inside her welcoming heat. His thumb found her clit and began gently coaxing her back up into pleasure.

“Ah, nnngggh, Se-Sev, please! Oh, oh please”

“That’s right Harriet, so so good. You’re doing so well. So beautiful.”

His fingers plunged into her, pressing into her g-spot with unerring skill. His thumb drew circles around her clit torturously. He felt her inner muscles begin to flutter, and watched as the flush on her face began to deepen and her eyes shine with the pleasure that had begun to crest once again.

He could wait no longer. He slipped his fingers from her cunt and guided his cock to her entrance, his thumb quickening its circles to keep her orgasm trembling on the brink. When he felt her tip over, he thrust into her in one swift motion.

She screamed as she came violently, her back arching off the bed, eyes screwed shut, her cunt- Merlin- clenching his cock in a merciless vice. He had to Occlude just a little to keep himself from spilling right along with her.

He held as still as he was capable, watching her come down from her orgasm with rabid fascination. When at last her eyes met his, he whispered “you’re mine now, Harriet. No one else will ever touch you. No one else will ever have you.”

He rolled his hips into her, once, twice, relishing in her wide awe filled eyes. “Ah, Severus! So big! Feels so- oh- full.”

“That’s right, ah fuck- going to fill you up until you can’t think of anything but me.”

His hips begin a longer swing, his cock moving further out and sliding more firmly inside her. He couldn’t help but watch where he entered her, taking possession of her tight little cunt so completely. His cock was shiny with her slick and the noises they were making when he buried himself in her…oh fuck, so wet, so hot.

He slammed forward in earnest now. His hands moving to her hips, pulling her onto him with every thrust. She wailed her pleasure out loud, her hands scrabbling along his chest, his shoulders, anywhere she could reach. “Please! Oh- oh please yes-yes!”

“You want to come on my cock, Potter? Do it, come for me, milk my cock with your sweet cunt. Let me make you mine.”

He pinched her nipple with one hand and rubbed at her clit with the other and, like lighting a fuse, he watched her detonate, her cunt rhythmically clutching at his cock while she let out tiny whimpers and mewls. He lasted, one, two, three more thrusts before he followed, his balls drew up and spilled his seed inside her deliriously hot walls.

When he was fully spent he shifted them so that she was laying on top of him. His spend dripped into a puddle on the bed between their legs. His hand was buried in her hair and his lips were locked onto hers. He took possession of her mouth as fully as he had taken her body, letting no corner go undiscovered.

When he leaned back he had to pause to admire how debauched she looked. Her lips kiss swollen and eyes bright.

“I didn’t think it could ever feel like this. Not with anyone. I’ve never felt so safe in my life. You… you have always taken care of me. Even when I hated you” she said in a breathless voice.

Severus fought to keep his voice steady when he answered “you are safe. Now that I have you.. I will never let you go. You will always be safe.”

“I have something to confess…”

Heaving sigh and fighting the urge to rub his temples he grunted at her to continue.

“I mastered the wandless alohomora weeks ago. I just didn’t want to leave you alone.”

He stared at her in shock. “You… insufferable.. beautiful little hellion.”

“We can’t stay hidden forever. We have to find a way to get this horcrux out of my head and then we need to go make sure Voldemort dies.. for real this time. We can’t leave everyone to fight alone.”

“If we must. But I will make sure you are safe first. We will not return until we are certain you do not have to die.”

“And then after… we have the rest of our lives, together?”

“Together. Always.”

Chapter Text

Typically when walking past a classroom where a NEWT student was performing their final examination, you would expect to hear spell fire, or maybe in the case of a potions final, the sound of a cauldron churning it’s brew into some magical tonic or other. What you would not expect to hear is the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin, nor the grunts, moans and other sounds of pleasure you would generally hear in one’s bedroom when it is most certainly not being used for sleep.

Those are, however, the sounds coming out of the classroom where Harriet has been taking her DADA NEWT for the last 45 minutes. Though a hasty silencio had been thrown up, so no one outside of the classroom was aware of that fact.

Inside the classroom though, there was a cacophony of noise, issuing from the three people engaged in a passionate embrace. The noises themselves were the least shocking thing in the room, believe it or not. No, the most shocking thing was the participants of the ménage à trois. At least that was what’s most shocking in Harriet’s opinion.

If she had been anyone else, she would have absolutely expired at the thought of being sandwiched between Severus Snape, the ex-Death Eater, Potions Master, current Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts and overall surly git and Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, the former Dark Lord, and even surlier git. Not that he was really Tom Riddle. She had killed that arsehole last year in the Final Battle, after destroying each and every one of his tethers to life.

The person wearing Tom’s face was not actually a person at all, but the boggart she had been tasked with defeating as a part of her final exam. In a situation even more ridiculous than the spell itself implied, when the boggart emerged from the trunk it had been stored in, as Lord Voldemort, she cast “riddikulus” with confident precision, only for the boggart to morph into his younger, more handsome self, and fall to his knees at her feet practically salivating with desire.

It seems her subconscious was just waiting to shift the tides and, for once, be the one to bring Voldemort to his knees. And boy was he on his knees.

His face was twisted in desire and longing. It was as if he had been dosed with Amortentia, the sight was so jarring nether Snape nor Harriet knew how to react. Sensing the opportunity, the boggart shifted forward and began crawling towards Harriet like a sociopathic panther.

“Please Harriet, I need you. Just one taste. Let me lick your cunt. I’ll eat you so well you’ll see stars. Please, I need to have you. I’ll make you feel so good. Please!”

“Ummmmm… what? Snape!? What- what do I do?”

At this point Boggart Tom had reached her and was reaching his hands towards her stocking covered claves. Batting his hands away she turned to Snape who simply blinked at the sight before him, frozen like he had been hit with a body bind. “Professor!”

Tom was now flipping up Harrie’s skirt and attempting to shove his face between her legs. “Smell so good Harriet. So sweet. Want to fuck my tongue into your tight pussy. Drink you down from the source.”

So preoccupied with keeping Tom from burying his face in between her legs by gripping onto his thick, dark curls, she didn’t notice his hands had curled into her waistband and began pulling down her tights.

“Snape! A little help! Oh!”

Bloody hell he was like devils snare! Every time she got one limb under control another one snuck out of nowhere and wormed itself into her knickers!

“Come now Potter, surely the Girl who Conquered can defeat one little Boggart?”

She turned her head to glare at her professor. The glare was only half as powerful as she was capable of though, due to the fact that Tom’s fingers were we’re now completely submerged in her knickers, and her body was beginning to respond to the stimulation.

“Snape! Could you at least pass me my wand!? I think it rolled over there when this arsehole started trying to eat me out through my skirt!”

“Surely you’re not suggesting I help you cheat?”

“Ah! Oh for the love of Merlin!”

Tom had two fingers buried inside her and was dragging them along her walls with the most incredible precision. “Ohhhh ummm” despite the awkward situation, she was getting incredibly wet which was absolutely mortifying. Snape was staring at her with those damn unfathomable eyes, a faint smirk on his face and… was that lust? No, couldn’t be. But the obvious bulge in his trousers told a different story.

Tom’s tongue was now firmly latched to her clit, having managed to fully remove her stockings and knickers at some point while she was staring at Snape’s very large cock. Very large. She had no idea Snape even had a cock. But now that she does, she kind of wants to… see it? Maybe? No, yeah, she definitely wants to see it. Oh Merlin, she’s staring at it again.

Quickly looking back down to Tom, the view isn’t much better, he is eating her out like the most sumptuous meal. Dragging his tongue in big broad stripes from where his fingers are pumping in and out of her all the way up to her clit and then back down again. He is staring at her with his beautiful blue eyes like she holds all of the answers to every question he has ever had. The power she feels seeing him on his knees before her is intoxicating. Somehow her leg ends up thrown over his shoulder and she begins to grind her pelvis into his face, riding his tongue.

She’s getting so close to coming but she needs.. she needs something.. more. Glancing back to Snape she sees he has gripped his cock over his trousers and is squeezing himself in time with the motions of her hips. The lust plain on his usually severe face is enough to send her over the edge, and she comes explosively, squirting all over Tom’s hand and face.

Her leg collapses under her weight and she sits heavily on the desk behind her. The Boggart doesn’t seem to mind the change in position, and throws her other leg over his shoulder. She cries out as his tongue resumes its gentle teasing of her clit, his fingers never leaving the warmth of her cunt. The moment of pain from overstimulation is short lived and she is distracted from it entirely when she catches sight of Snape stalking towards her for a closer look.

His eyes were intent upon her cunt, which was glistening with her slick and Tom’s attentions. “My, my Potter, who would have guessed what a pretty cunt you were hiding under those rags you call clothes. Tell me, are you this much of a slut with all creatures, or is it just my lucky day?”

“Nuhhhhhgggh, ohhh please” she moans, her hips had resumed their rocking against Tom’s face, and he had replaced his fingers with his tongue and was stabbing it in as deep as he could reach it, growling and moaning at the taste all the while.

“Please? Surely you’re not still asking for my help? You look to be enjoying yourself quite a bit. Or perhaps you’re begging for something else? What is it you want Potter? Hmmm?”

“Mmm ohh Merlin, I want- want-“

Tom was eating her voraciously now, his nose grinding against her clit sending sparks behind her eyes and pleasure burning deep in her belly. She could barely think, let alone speak. Snape brushed the hair from her face and when he spoke next it sounded like thunder rolling through the hills “you want my cock as well Potter? Would that satisfy you? It would certainly keep you quiet wouldn’t it? You’re making an awful racket.”

“Yes, yes Snape please. Oh please.”

“Hush, Potter I’ll give you my cock. And you'll take it won’t you. You’ll take it deep.”

He rubbed her face against his clothed crotch, grabbing her hair at the back of her skull to direct her. He unbuckled his belt, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight, waiting for the moment when his cock was finally revealed to her gaze. When he pulled it out it was angry looking and red. The tip was leaking and her mouth started watering with the desire to lick it off.

“Here Potter, do try not to make a complete mess of it. I have little patience for clumsy Gryffindor bravado.” He slapped his heavy shaft across her cheek twice and brushed his sack against her lips.

She had no idea how she could possibly make a mess of it, it’s cock sucking, not spell crafting. But before she could gather her thoughts enough to ask, Boggart Tom ran his tongue over her arsehole and her mouth opened in a surprised gasp. Snape seized the opportunity and stuck his cock in her mouth. Pumping shallowly at first, his hand still threaded in her hair at the back of her head, he groaned as his cock was engulfed in the hot wet heat of her mouth.

She was only caught by surprise for a moment before she closed her lips over his cock and began to suck. She’d never had a cock in her mouth before but she was pretty sure it was self-explanatory, so she started sucking. That seems to be the right thing to do because Snape hissed through his teeth and bucked his hips hard into her mouth, gagging her in the process.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. You can take it. You’re doing so well.”

She lit up at the praise, but her attention was quickly snagged by what was going on beneath her. Tom had been steadily building her back up to orgasm with his tongue fucking into her but suddenly he moved his lips back up and took her clit into his mouth, sucking on it with gentle pulls to match her attention to Snape's cock. His fingers slipped back inside began rubbing the swollen place inside her that made her moan around Snape’s cock. She let out a startled squeak when the boggart slipped a finger from his other hand into her arsehole all the way to the knuckle and began pumping it in and out, matching the rhythm of Snape’s thrusts.

She came with a muffled shout which allowed Snape to inch into her throat cutting the sound off abruptly. The lack of oxygen seemed to cause her orgasm to last and last. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she swore she may have seen heaven.

Snape began pounding into her, his balls smacking her cheek with each thrust, a continuous stream of growls and moans falling from him. “Take it Potter, take it all. Don’t waste a single drop.”

His pace faltered, he shoved his way deep into her throat and held there. His hand holding her head close, nose buried into his pubic hair, his other hand resting on her throat, cupping his cock through her skin. Then she felt the warmth of his come enter her throat, she swallowed desperately, over and over until Snape sighed and pulled out of her mouth.

Leaving her gasping on the desk, he tucked himself back into his trousers and put his clothes back to rights. With a flick of his wand, he banished Boggart Tom back into the trunk and strode back to his grade book with an extra flourish of his cloak.

“Acceptable work Potter, I think that earns you an E. Please see yourself out and send in the next student.”

Harrie quickly sat up, staring at Snape in shock. He looked up, raised an eyebrow at her and smirked, “unless you would rather I reconsider my grading of your efforts?”

“No! No, I think that’s fair.”

She hurried off the desk and back into her knickers and tights, swiping her wand from the floor she cast a quick cleansing charm on herself before making her way to the door.

Before she turned the handle she turned back to Snape “we should try that again some time. Maybe we can see who your Boggart would turn into,” and she turned and sauntered through the door.

Chapter Text

Tom was not fooled by the ridiculous cover story Headmaster Dippet had given to explain the new Gryffindor’s presence among them. The words may have come out of Dippet’s mouth, but they were clearly crafted by Albus Dumbledore. The girl was unassuming at first glance. A mousy, delicate little thing with messy black hair hanging down her back in thick waves.

If it was just her stature that he was basing his judgement on, then he of course would have believed that the girl was a nobody mudblood from a nowhere village, come to Hogwarts after homeschooling became impossible to continue. It was her eyes though, that gave it away. Tom was an excellent judge of character, he could see that behind those innocent green eyes there was a veritable ocean of information. Information, in Tom’s opinion was more valuable than anything so trite as gold.

He wanted to crack open Harriet Potter’s head and spill out every one of her secrets. He wanted to bleed the information out of her until she ran dry and only then would he be satisfied.

There was only one solution. He had tried, one afternoon in the library, to use legilimency on her from a few tables away. He caught her eye and ignoring the slightly hostile look she had given him, cast the spell to look into her mind. He wouldn’t have time for a deep look but he wanted to catch the flavor of her; the more familiar with it he became the easier it would be to dig deeper when the opportunity arose. What he found was surprising, but not in the way one would have expected. Instead of some illicit secret life, what he encountered in that brief glimpse was an Occlumency shield.

It was a pathetic attempt at protection, really. A child’s barricade- pillows stacked against a door, blankets pinned over windows. She had no idea how flimsy it looked to someone who knew the true art of mind magic. The mere fact that those barriers existed at all was what drove him close to the brink of desperation. Occlumency was a rarely taught skill and she was far too terrible at it to be a natural. No, someone must have had cause to teach her, and that made the information inside her head all the more vital for him to know.

The look on her face after his brief brush against her mind was deadly. She clearly had felt his intrusion and didn’t appreciate it. That meant that he needed to approach his next attack more carefully.

The only problem was, she was constantly surrounded by Dumbledore’s chosen ones. Fleamont Potter and Lyall Lupin, Brea Bones and Augusta Longbottom, they surrounded her like gnats. He could never find a moment alone with her long enough to exploit whatever pathetic defense she had and slip into her head.

Time and stealth were not in great supply at Hogwarts and the next time he was able to corner Harriet was after curfew in a quiet hallway off the 7th floor. He was out doing his rounds as Prefect when he ran into the girl while turning a corner.

He grabbed onto her elbows before she could fall to the ground, he had nearly a foot and two stone on her and such a fall would likely cause some damage. “Pardon me Miss Potter, are you alright?”

It was as if she’d seen a particularly gruesome ghost. He could feel her pulse pounding under his fingertips and her breathing was short and shallow. The blush on her cheeks was charming in the way a tremor running through a rabbit was charming to a fox. “Fine. I need to get to bed. Good night.”

“Just a moment Miss Potter.” He said while maintaining hold of her. “You’re out of bed after curfew. I’ll have to dock points.” He was trying to catch her eye but she was making it a point to look anywhere but him.

“Fine. Dock points. Dock 100 points. I’ll never do it again. I’ll be on my way back to my common room now”

“”Why won’t you look at me? Am I so hideous?”

“Of course not Tom. I’m just tired. Now if you’ll-“

“Ah, Mr. Riddle, out on patrol are you? And I see you’ve been diligent in your duties. Good evening Miss Potter. Out for a late night stroll?”

Surely fucking not. Tom turns. And yes there he is, Potter’s knight in shining professor’s robes. “Good evening Professor Dumbledore. Yes, I caught Miss Potter here out of bed. I was about to take points from her and issue a detention.”

He glances over at Potter who has her eyes firmly on Dumbledore.

“Ah, well thank you Tom, I will take it from here. Goodnight. Come Miss Potter, I will escort you back to Gryffindor tower.”

With that she yanked her arms out of his hold and scurried over to Dumbledore. Furious that he was once again derailed from his quarry Tom stalked back towards the dungeons. As he readied himself for bed, he pondered how to get Harriet alone again. It was obvious she was reluctant to be near him but aside from the one incident with legilimancy, he couldn’t think why she would be so standoffish.

Tom was aware of the effect he had on women, he was charming and had been described as beautiful by many a witch, and he had used that to his advantage many times to get what he wanted. The fact that Harriet didn’t seem to be affected by him was infuriating. He wouldn’t let the untalented chit thwart him again.

There was only one way he could see himself getting her alone and unprotected. He’d have to get into her room. She was the only 6th year Gryffindor girl, she would have a room to herself. He would have to find a way to sneak into the tower while she was asleep and use legilimancy on her while her mind was completely vulnerable.

He began to form his plan as he waited for sleep to come to him.

——

By the following week he was ready to enact his plan. He had skimmed the Gryffindor password off the mind of the prefect and had confirmed that Potter would be in her tower that night by eavesdropping on her conversation with Fleamont that afternoon in the library.

He waited until midnight to head to the entrance of their tower on the 5th floor. Just before he arrived, he disillusioned himself so the Fat Lady who guarded the entrance wouldn’t give him a hard time about entering a common room that wasn’t his.

He arrived to the portrait and spoke the password loudly, waking the woman with a loud snort. “Gallant.”

Though startled, the Fat Lady was too disoriented to put up much of a fight about an invisible boy requesting entry to the tower. She swung forward revealing a hole in the wall. How fucking stereotypical. They couldn’t have a door. No. That would be too sensible. It needed to be a fucking adventure getting into your living space. Absurd.

He would never think of this debasement again, he vowed as he crawled through to the common room. Once there he found the stairs to the girls dormitory. They were enchanted to turn smooth if a member of the male sex attempted to climb them but Tom had come prepared for this as well. All Professors were given the override phrase in the event of an emergency and Tom had been able to talk Slughorn into giving it to him after his last Slug Club meeting.

Climbing slowly to the 6th year dormitory he paused before touching the knob. There were simple wards on the door, silencing charms and a more complex locking charm than he would have expected from the girl, but even so it only took him moments to break in. He silenced his footsteps and ensured that his disillusionment spell was still fully concealing him.

He entered into the warm room as invisible as he could possibly be and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He zeroed in on his prey, lying on the only bed in the room, the bed hangings laying open, revealing her to his gaze.

Well, isn’t that interesting… Potter slept naked. Not necessarily hard to believe with how hot and humid the room was, but still… interesting.

Tom stepped closer to the bed. He needed to touch her head directly with his wand if he was unable to make eye contact, in order to perform legilimancy. He had to admit, the moonlight hitting the girl’s delicate features made her look almost ethereal. The covers had slipped down to her waist exposing her pert breasts to his gaze, her nipples were an exquisite shade of pink. Were he any other hormonal teen he may have forgotten his purpose here entirely in the face of such temptation.

Carefully so as to not wake her Tom set the tip of his wand to her trample and muttered “somnus” sending the girl into a deeper sleep ensuring she wouldn’t feel him slipping into her mind. Once he was sure she was completely asleep he muttered “legilimens” and slid into Harriet’s head and directly into a dream she was having.

She couldn’t see him, even if she was in a position to, which at the moment she certainly was not. No, his presence in her head would go completely undetected, he was an unobservable spectator to the incredible indecency playing out before him.

Harriet was on her knees in the middle of the corridor on the 7th floor, kneeling at the feet of his doppelgänger whose cock was currently lodged in her throat. She was making the most lewd sounds as she gagged, choked and moaned around him, strands of saliva and precum were dripping down her chin and onto her breasts. Dream Tom’s hands were buried deep in her hair guiding her mouth up and down his cock in a fast pace, treating her more like a toy than a paramour.

Harriet’s eyes were streaming tears but focused with absolute determination on Tom’s face, unbelievably there was a look of victory on her face, as if she was the one who was dominating him. Suddenly dream Tom pulled his cock out of Harriet’s mouth and slapped it on her cheek “like that do you slut?” He hissed in parseltongue.

…Pardon? How the fuck did she know he could speak in snake language? And how the fuck could she speak it, as she obviously was capable of if she just dreamt a fully formed sentence in it?

“You take my cock so well. But I would much rather fuck that sweet pussy of yours, pet. Go ahead and present for your master”

Harriet looked all too eager to comply and quickly flipped her self onto her hands and knees arching her back in a way reminiscent of a bitch in heat. Distracted from his shock at the revelation he just had, real Tom marveled at the entrancing sight before him. She was absolutely bewitching in her submission. All graceful curves and soft skin. Suddenly he wished desperately that it could be him in dream Tom’s place.

Dream Tom knelt down behind Harriet and placed a both hands under her to squeeze her breasts, kissing along her spine as he softly ran his spit soaked cock along her folds. “Tell me Harriet how should I punish you for breaking curfew? Hmmm? Shall I make you beg for forgiveness? Shall I be a merciful Lord?”

“Oh please Tom! Please fuck me! I need you to fill me up!”

A sudden smack sounded out, echoing down the corridor. A red hand print bloomed on Harriet’s arse cheek in the shape of Tom’s hand. “Don’t forget your manners pet. How should you address your Lord?”

“Ah! I’m sorry master! Please, please fuck me. Need you so badly.”

Smirking, Tom lands another slap on her other cheek, his cock dripping precum onto the floor. “Oh Harriet, I don’t think you’re sorry at all. You need to be properly punished, or how will you ever learn? 10 strikes should do the trick don’t you think? You will count them pet, and thank me for each one.”

With that he lands another swat on the crease between her cheek and her thigh. Moaning with sinful pleasure she gasps out “three, thank you, master.”

Another hit lands directly on her soaked pussy. “Ahhhhh! Four! Thank you, master!”

Another two slaps landing again, directly on her pussy, now dripping slick onto the floor, joining the puddle of Tom’s precum. “Oooh fuck, five, six! Thank you master!”

“You will not cum until I give you permission, do you understand pet?” Another volley of swats directed to her pussy had Harriet wailing and shaking. Her pussy lips are swollen and look hot to the touch.

Tom pets her hair and speaks soft praises into her ear and eases his cock into her swollen and twitching channel drawing out a moan from both of them.

He grips her hair and pulls her head back and with his other he uses her hips as leverage to slam his cock into her as hard as he can. He fucks her with savage dominance, as if he hopes to pound her into the stone floor. He is a man obsessed, possessed with passion that real Tom has never felt but has always known himself capable of.

“Yes! Yes Tom! Oh fuck, please, please let me come! Please!”

“Yes slut, come on my cock, show me what a good girl you are” he hisses back.

Harriet comes with a scream of his name and collapses onto her face, shivering with pleasure, her arse held in the air by his hands. Tom only lasts two, three pumps more before he too comes with a shout.

They are both out of breath and smiling when real Tom decides he has seen enough for the night and exits Harries dream and lands back in the quiet of her room. His cock is achingly hard and he is sorely tempted to wake the infuriating girl and force her to take care of it for him. But he refrains, he will not be ruled by something so trite as hormones, he needs to learn more about the girl, she cannot find out he’s been here.

He turns and exits the room as quietly as he arrived, vowing to return the next night. This time he will let nothing distract him from accomplishing his goal.

Chapter Text

It was a sweltering summer day in London. Heat waves had been plaguing them all summer long and they had come to a mutual decision that it was miserable enough inside Grimmauld without sweating to death too. Sirius had suggested that they go out to the garden and work on the bike together. Harrie didn’t really mind what they did so long as she got to do it with him.

The girlhood crush she had been harboring for the rake had only grown as she grew older and began to appreciate more than just the obvious handsome features and dry wit. The truth was, Harrie was fairly certain she was in love with Sirius. He was so smart- he was always consulting on Weasley products and helping work out problems with old Pureblood wards for the ministry. He was generous- he had set up a charity using a huge portion of his inheritance, to benefit children that had been orphaned by the war, or had to be removed from abusive homes. He had a natural magnetism that just drew everyone in, especially her.

And then there were the tattoos… there were 32- that she could see anyway. They decorated his arms, torso, chest, back, neck and even his hands. Most were small, obviously done himself, with whatever he had at hand in Azkaban. Little runes, or shapes that brought him some kind of emotion other than the crushing despair he was constantly buried under. Some were big, magical tattoos that moved like living portraits under his skin. A stag wandering through the plains and slopes of his muscular back and shoulders. A constellation of stars twinkling on his forearm. Even a little fawn curled up and blinking sleepily close to his heart. That one was her favorite.

He had many more that dipped and curved below his trousers, ones she could only guess at, since all she could see were the tips of them peaking out above the waistband or through the holes of his low slung, ripped jeans. She had begun to obsess over those ones. Catching glimpses of him when he was walking around the house after a shower and half naked had become a hobby of hers.

On this particular day the sun beat down hard, with the kind of summer heat that clung to skin and made the air shimmer over the pavement. Sirius was crouched over his motorbike, shirt discarded over the handlebars, wand tucked behind his ear like an afterthought. Sweat rolled down the line of his throat, catching in the dark ink etched across his chest and arms. The tattoos seemed to strain with him, magic pulsing faintly as if they approved of the labor.

Harriet handed him a spanner without needing to be asked, though her gaze lingered a little too long on the way his shoulder flexed as he leaned into the engine. Sirius smelled faintly of oil and smoke and something sharper underneath, citrus maybe.

“Don’t suppose you want to get your hands dirty, Harrie?” he asked, glancing at her through strands of hair that clung damp to his forehead. His grin was quick, roguish. “Or do you just enjoy watching me sweat?”

Her stomach jolted. He was teasing, but he always seemed to know just how close to the truth he was. She knelt beside him, pretending to study the motorbike instead of him. “I’m watching to make sure you don’t set the whole thing on fire,” she muttered.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That’s confidence in me, that is.” He leaned back on his heels, tugging the rag from his pocket and swiping it across his chest, smearing sweat and grease together. The movement drew Harriet’s eyes- traitorously, inevitably- back to the wild scrawl of tattoos curling across his ribs, the fawn’s head glinting faintly in the sun. She forced her gaze away, but not before Sirius noticed.

His smile turned slow, wicked. “Careful, love. Stare too long and people might think you’re impressed.”

“I’m not,” she said too quickly, cheeks hot, though her voice carried no real bite.

“Mm.” Sirius leaned in close enough that she could smell the salt on his skin, his lips quirking. “Good thing I don’t mind being admired.”

Harriet shifted closer to the bike, determined to look useful rather than besotted. Sirius passed her a wrench, his fingers grazing hers — warm, rough, slicked faintly with sweat and oil. The touch lingered a beat too long before he let go.

“Hold this steady,” he said, guiding her hand to the edge of the frame. His palm closed lightly over hers, adjusting her grip, and though it lasted only a moment, her pulse tripped over itself.

She swallowed, staring at the metal instead of the veins standing out along his forearm. “Like this?”

“Mm. Exactly like that.” His voice dropped, just a touch, and he bent over the engine again, shoulder brushing hers as he leaned in. Harriet kept still, painfully aware of how close he was, how the heat of him made the summer air even heavier.

When he pulled back, his hand brushed against her hip, and she would have assumed it was on accident, if it weren’t for the slight smirk on his lips. He stood up from his crouch, wiping his brow with the back of his arm, leaving a streak of grease in its wake.

Harriet laughed despite herself. “You’ve got… hang on-” She licked the tip of her thumb before she thought better of it, swiping the smear from his forehead. She stilled as she realized what she had done and dared to glance into his eyes, looking for his reaction.

Sirius didn’t move. He just looked at her, dark eyes glinting, lips curved in that infuriating half-smile. “Careful, Harrie.”

She pulled her hand back quickly, gripping the wrench again. “What, are you going to bite me?” she joked half heartedly.

His laugh was soft, low, but there was something else beneath it- something that made her cheeks burn hotter than the sun above them. “You never know, love.”

Harrie meant to move away then, to turn back to the bike and pretend to be useful, but she was caught in his gaze like a fly trapped in honey. Slowly, giving her enough time to pull away Sirius captured her hand and brought the thumb she had licked to his mouth. He gently took the pad between his teeth and exerted enough pressure to send a zing of pleasure directly to her cunt.

Harrie couldn’t tell if she was breathing, she may have been panting like the dog he was, for all she knew. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he slowly flicked his tongue against her trapped thumb. The heat of his tongue lit a fire in her blood that she couldn’t hope to extinguish on her own. She was probably going to die.

Sirius was licking her. His tongue was- oh- oh Merlin. He was sucking her thumb into his mouth. His lips closing around the digit and his mouth creating a slight suction around it, drawing it even further into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. Yes. Perished. Right there on the spot.

His eyes were so dark, there was only the slightest ring of silver around his pupils. It was all there to see in those eyes. His hunger, the challenge he was issuing. As if to say ‘what now Harrie?’

She wouldn’t run. He knew that. She wasn’t built to retreat. The only question was, how far would she let this go? She wanted him. No, that wasn’t right. She needed him. Somehow he had become essential to her. In the span of a breath she though about all those mornings he would saunter into the kitchen with no shirt on, all those evenings cuddled in front of fire reading from the same book, the innocent touches that set her alight, the heat in her belly each night she came with her hand between her thighs and his name on her lips, and she knew. She knew that she wasn’t going to let this end until he was buried inside of her painting her cunt with his seed.

She did the only thing she could think to do in that moment, she stepped towards him, hooked her thumb behind his bottom teeth and pulled his head down to her level and then after slipping her finger out of his mouth, she kissed him.

Kissing Sirius Black was like getting hit by a bludger and liking it. The moment her lips touched his, he exploded into action. Grabbing her hair, her waist, hauling her in closer, closer until not even air could slip its way in between them. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and then dipped inside to lick into her mouth. The kiss was everything she had ever imagined and so much more.

Her hands refused to stay put, running over every sweat slick muscle she could reach, leaving goose bumps in their wake. His own hands had shifted, holding her neck to angle her head to deepen their kiss, squeezing a breast and plucking at the nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt. Grabbing a handful of her arse through her shorts.

She needed his hands on her skin. She gripped the hem of her vest and pulled it over head breaking their kiss. Sirius wasted no time discovering the new skin she had uncovered with his hands and his teeth. Harrie’s own mouth when to the fawn. Kissing its little head, working her mouth over to one of his nipples and biting it gently. Letting out a groan into her skin Sirius lifted one of her breasts and took her nipple into his mouth, he sucked hard, sending the sweetest jolt of pain through her “ah! Sirius!” She cried arching her back to push her breast more firmly into his mouth.

He worked his mouth to her other nipple, while his hands traveled down her navel and to the button on her shorts. Flicking it open he began to work them over the swell of her hips, pushing her knickers down with them.

“You taste so sweet baby. Feel so good in my arms. Want to- fuck, so wet- want to bend you over my bike and make you scream my name.”

His fingers are buried in her cunt and she is hardly keeping herself upright. Getting bent over actually sounds pretty good right now. She’d really like to get to that now, thank you very much. Her mouth is occupied leaving love bites along his clavicle so she communicates her agreement with his plan by grabbing his thick cock through his denims and squeezing- hard.

A moan rips through his chest and suddenly she is being whirled around to face his bike. A hand lands between her shoulder blades and presses her down so her tummy is resting on the sun warmed seat. He kicks her legs apart and she hears the rustle of fabric and then the blunt press of a cock against her folds.

He pushes into her slowly groaning at the tight fit. “Fuuuuuck baby. So tight. Perfect little pussy.”

He retreats an inch before pressing back in. One hand settles on her hips, the other travels up her back in a slow sweep. He sets a punishing pace from the start, his hips slamming into her with a slap of skin on skin. His hand raises to her mouth and he sticks the two fingers he had used to finger open her pussy in deep. Moaning at the taste of herself, she wraps her tongue around them and sucks, the act of it soothing her while at the same time driving her arousal even higher. Soon she is coming around his cock and wheezing out little moans around his fingers.

“Oh good girl, good girl. I want you to come again. One more for me baby.”

His pace never faltered. His cock fit inside her so well, it dragged along her walls perfectly, it wasn’t long before she could feel a second orgasm approaching.

“Sirius please! Oh please!”

She had no idea what she was asking for, but she needed it, whatever it was. Thank Merlin Sirius seemed to know, he slid his spit soaked fingers down to her clit and started running tight, firm strokes around the bundle of nerves. It only took a few minutes more and she was flying again, screaming out his name into the garden.

Sirius lasted two more pumps before losing himself and pumping his cum deep into her cunt.

“Ah yes baby, take it. Take it all. Mmnn so good.”

He slumped over her, resting his forehead on her sweaty back, laughing slightly at the position.

“I’m going to need to wash the bike again. It’s covered in our cum.”

“Mmmmm can we wash ourselves first? I’m so hot I think I’ll melt.”

“Yeah you are.” He said with a cheeky slap to her arse causing her to squeal and jerk upright.

Taking her hand in his he gathered up their clothes and led her into the house, promising a cold shower and a warm cuddle. The fawn on his chest had curled back up around Sirius’ heart and looked to be sleeping soundly while the Stag on his back prowled around in what she could only assume was irritation. Oops.

Chapter Text

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing, hot with the crush of bodies and the blazing fire. Laughter spilled from every corner, bottles of butterbeer clinked together, someone had already charmed the wireless to play too loudly. James Potter was holding court by the fireplace, Lily perched on his lap, Sirius draped across an armchair like a king, and Peter hovering nearby with a plate full of stolen pumpkin pasties.

Harrie Potter slipped through the press of bodies and perched on the arm of a sofa. Rolling her eyes at her twin brother, she surveyed the room with a soft smile. Her gaze, as it often did, found Remus Lupin across the room. He was half-hidden near the bookshelf, sleeves rolled up, collar undone, trying his best to look like he was having fun. A faint smile tugged at his mouth when he caught her watching causing her heart to skip a beat.

She raised her bottle in silent salute. He shook his head but came over anyway, weaving through the crowd.

“You look miserable,” she teased as he dropped onto the cushion beside her.

“Correction,” he said dryly. “I look like someone who’s had to listen to James brag about today’s match for the last hour.”

She laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers. “I have no sympathy, I had to be wingman for Siri and that 6th year from Hufflepuff.”

He winced and then gave her one of his careful looks—soft, but guarded. Harrie had grown used to that look over the years. It was the one that spoke of longing and love and he thought she didn’t understand, but how can a heart not recognize when it’s love is being reflected back at it? It made something ache behind her ribs because she knew he’d never allow himself- or her- to speak those feelings into existence. He thought himself unworthy or whatever nonsense he had convinced himself of to keep her at arm’s length. She hated it.

“You should enjoy yourself,” she pressed. “Dance, maybe?”

“No” his ears went red, and he immediately added, “I don’t dance.”

She tilted her head, green eyes glittering. “You don’t flirt either, apparently. What do you do at parties, Remus?”

He huffed a laugh, but the sound was strained. He looked away, toward the firelight, and took a long swig from his bottle. It took him a lot more to feel the pleasant buzz of alcohol in his veins, the lycanthropy increased his metabolism causing him to burn through it at a faster rate.

The silence suddenly awkward, Harrie cursed herself yet again for pushing what she knew he would never bend on. She knew he loved her, though he’d never admit it. She also knew that if he gave in, it would be so very good between them. She would do anything for him. Merlin’s sake, she went through the anamangi ritual with the rest of the Marauders for him! If that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was.

She got up then, moving into the crowd of dancing bodies. She couldn’t breathe for wanting him. Sometimes the temptation to just grab him and shake him until he saw sense was too much and she had to leave before she imploded their relationship and lost him altogether. If he was so determined to remain her friend, then she would have to accept that and move on.

She grabbed Fabian Prewett and started dancing to the fast paced song blasting on the radio. When his hands settled on her waist, she felt more than one set of eyes land on her back. She was playing a dangerous game, she knew, but the alcohol was giving her courage and she was allowed to be touched, damn it all. Fabian was handsome, and a great dancer. She knew he fancied her, and she felt a bit bad using him like this. But her motivations really were mostly pure.

War was on the horizon and this was the last year they had left in the safety of these walls. She just wanted to live her life like any other girl. She wanted to snog a boy who wanted to snog her back. She wanted what her brother had found in Lily. She wanted Remus. But he wouldn’t have her. She forced her mind to turn away from such bitter thoughts and smiled up at Fabian allowing him to lead her deeper into the crush, even so, the eyes followed.

——

Later, when the party thinned and James and Sirius staggered upstairs singing off-key, Harrie found herself restless. The pleasant buzz she had built up throughout the party was making her too warm and the jealous eyes that had rested heavily on her back all night had made her skin feel too tight. A midnight swim sounded nice. She slipped out into the halls, her shoes dangling from her fingers.

She wasn’t surprised when footsteps followed.

“You shouldn’t be wandering alone,” Remus said softly, falling into step beside her. His tie hung loose, his hair mussed. He looked tired- he always did- but tonight his eyes seemed to be especially weary.

“Neither should you, you’re not on patrol tonight” she countered.

“I came to make sure you were safe” he said, and there was something raw in his tone, something that made her heart skip.

She grinned, reckless. “I don’t think you’ll like where I’m headed.”

He didn’t. Not when she pushed open the door to the prefect’s bathroom. Not when she moved towards the water her hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt. He stood frozen just inside, every line of him taut with restraint.

“Harrie,” he warned.

“Sometimes you say my name like it’s a sin.” She stepped closer, chin tilted. “Do I tempt you Remus?”

He flinched. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Don’t test me tonight Harriet, the wolf is too close to the surface. You know what I am capable of.”

“I also know who you are,” she said plainly. “You are not capable of hurting me, no matter the form.”

The words hung in the steam that filled the room, heavy with everything unsaid- that had had this same conversation for years. They had both memorized the lines. Their longing for each other was practically a third person in the room.

She turned her back to him again and lifted the shirt up and over her head and dropped it on the ground. Her bra quickly followed. She could feel his eyes on her as she had all night. But now it was charged. Now instead of the barely leashed rage and jealousy, it felt possessive, heady with lust. His control was wavering. She needed to tip him over.

“I can’t,” she heard him whisper, though she heard him take a few steps forward anyway.

“If you won’t, someone else will Remus” she whispered back. “I only want you.”

She dropped her skirt and knickers to the ground and slowly walked into the warm water. She felt powerful, she felt bewitching. She needed him to bend. She needed him to finally give them both what they needed, what they had been waiting so very long for.

Her skin was smooth and flawless, she and James were both unfortunately pale but in the moonlight her skin turned into liquid silver. Her messy black hair reached down to her waist, brushing the top of her arse which was pert and shapely. She knew she was beautiful. She knew what the boys, and even quite a few older men whispered about her.

This wasn’t about if Remus found her attractive, this was about him giving himself permission to want it, to take it. It was his after all.

She ducked under the bath water and when she emerged she turned back to look at him, half certain he would be gone. But there he was. Staring with dark eyes and a pitch in his trousers that looked quite substantial.

“Care to join me? It feels lovely after all that dancing.” She was baiting him she knew. Her breasts were just below the surface of the water. He had never even seen her bare shoulder and now here she was, naked and wet and calling for him. She knew she was playing a risky game calling him back to the jealousy he had felt earlier while she had been dancing with another man, but damn it she would use every weapon she had at hand to get him to break.

He hadn’t moved, didn’t even seem like he had heard her. His eyes were fixed on her chest. She took a steadying breath and moved closer towards him, bringing her into shallower water, revealing her breasts to his gaze inch by inch.

When the water was at her waist she stopped and allowed him to look his fill. His body was taught as a bowstring, he was panting like he’d just run in from the quidditch pitch and in between his breaths she thought she could hear the beginnings of a growl.

‘Here goes nothing,’ she thought as she brought her hands up to her breasts and stroked them softly, fingers lightly plucking at her nipples.

The growl let loose wasn’t subtle anymore, it would have scared her if it weren’t the white flag waving that she had been longing for. He charged into the water, clothes still on but based on the unrestrained passion she saw written on his face, he didn’t notice or care.

He took her hands from her breasts and replaced them with his own, grabbing handfuls and squeezing with perfect pressure making her moan at the sudden unusual feeling of someone else touching her in such an intimate way. Her gasp brought his eyes up to hers. “I’ve been forced to watch someone else put their hands on you all night. It was fucking torture. You are mine Harrie. My hands are the only ones that belong here, do you understand?”

Finally. “Yes, I understand.”

He used his wand to vanish his clothes before tossing it carelessly to the side of the bath, she took her time taking him in. She’s seen him shirtless dozens of times now, before and after his transformations he is always naked. But this is the first time she’s been allowed to touch him. She places her hands softly on his chest, fingers spread wide. He growls again when she traces a long scar, first with her fingers and then her mouth.

His grip on her breasts shifts from possessive to teasing, he lightly grazes her nipples with his fingers, making them tighten and start to ache. She whimpers with need and he takes mercy on her, picking her up so that his mouth is level with her sensitive peaks. He takes one pink nipple in his mouth and sucks lightly, nipping at it every now and then with carefully guarded teeth.

The sensation caused her to writhe against him, her legs wrapped around his waist and the water added to the slickness between her thighs. One desperate shift of her hips causes his cock to nestle in between her folds making them both gasp. She pulls his head back by his hair and crashes her mouth onto his. It’s their first kiss and it’s so perfect it brings tears to her eyes.

She rolls her hips unconsciously and he breaks his mouth away to lean his forehead against her neck. “Baby, we should move this somewhere else. I don’t want to fuck you for the first time in a bathroom.”

“I don’t care one bit where we are. I need you Remus. I need you so badly, have for so long. I can’t wait anymore. This is perfect, can’t you feel it? How perfect we are? Please, please take me.”

He brings his face back to look at her carefully. Seeing the truth on her face he makes his decision. He has made them wait long enough. He kisses her sweetly and presses his cock to her opening. One hard push and he settles his full length inside her. She had tensed up at the intrusion but he shushes her, rubbing calming circles on her back.

The combination of his tenderness, the warm water and the lingering buzz from the alcohol has her loosening up in a matter of minutes. When he feels the tension ebb from her muscles, he sighs in relief and flexes his hips carefully.

“You’re mine now Harrie. I’m going to claim you, right here. There will never be anyone else. Only you, only me. Say it baby, who do you belong to?”

He brings his fingers down to rub her clit, causing her to cry out “you! Yours, Remus! Always yours!”

Her words break from her throat in a desperate cry, raw and pleading for more.

The sound of her begging shatters whatever control he had left. His long fingers still for one torturous heartbeat, then move with purpose, stroking and circling in a way that makes her whole body sing. He watches, rapt, drinking in every gasp and whimper, his dark eyes burning with hunger and devotion.

His mouth trails fire down the curve of her neck, biting gently, then soothing with his tongue, until her skin is marked with his claim. “That’s it,” he rasps against her throat. “Say my name again. Let everyone hear who is making you feel so good.”

Her hands clutch at the edge of the tub, nails scraping porcelain, the slick steam making every sensation sharper. His lips close again over one peaked nipple, sucking with deliberate pressure while his fingers and his cock drive her higher, she sobs his name like a prayer.

“Remus!”

The plea breaks into a scream as the wave overtakes her. Her body convulses around his cock, his mouth never leaving her skin, as he works her through the orgasm until she collapses boneless against his chest, trembling and gasping for air.

He holds her as if she is something sacred, his hand sliding to her hip, keeping her grounded. His lips brush her damp hair, whispering roughly “I love you so much Harrie.”

Her lips part, a gasp caught between surprise and need, but he silences it with a kiss so consuming it feels like he’s making a vow. His tongue sweeps into her mouth, claiming her fiercely as his hands grip her waist.

“Not finished with you,” he growls against her lips, the words roughened by restraint. “I’ll never be finished with you.”

Water sloshes violently as Remus suddenly pulls her forward, plucking her off him like a kitten clinging onto a tree, he flips her body with startling ease. Her chest meets the slick edge of the bath, cool porcelain against flushed skin makes her whine.

Before she can steady herself, his hand tangles in her hair, twisting just enough to drag her head back so her throat arches for him. The stretch of it sends a shiver of helpless pleasure down her spine, a desperate moan falling out of her mouth.

“Hold on,” he rasps against her ear, his breath hot, commanding, trembling with the force of his restraint.

And then he drives into her again.

The sound of his hips slamming against her is obscene—skin against skin, the wet slap of water splashing around them both. The sudden depth has her crying out, hands clawing at the slick tub rim for purchase as his grip in her hair keeps her anchored exactly where he wants her.

Each thrust is ruthless, angled to strike that spot inside her, making her see stars. The tension in his fist at her scalp, the way he growls low in his chest every time her walls clench around him, the sheer intensity of his possession- it overwhelms her, body and mind unraveling in his grasp.

“Say it again.” Remus snarls, pounding into her harder, dragging her head back so her mouth opens in a wanton, helpless cry. “Tell me who you belong to.” She hardly recognizes his voice, the wolf is so close to the surface it may very well be him who is speaking through Remus.

She loves him so much, she would trust him with her entire being, her heart crawls into her throat and answers for her. “You! You, Remus! Only you! I love you.”

He answers with a moan, his mouth finds the bruise he had left on your neck earlier and begins worrying at it with his teeth. The porcelain edge of the bath digs into her ribs, but all she can feel is him- stretching, filling, consuming her as his body claims her over and over.

He snarls in her ear, dragging her head back so he can see her face twist with pleasure, his thrusts becoming frantic. The water splashes wildly, spilling over the bath with every ruthless pump of his hips.

Her body is strung taut, every nerve aflame as his hand slides down from her hair, wrapping around her throat in a firm, unyielding grasp. The added pressure has her spiraling, heat coiling low and tight until she’s shaking violently in his grasp.

“Come for me,” he growls, voice thick and ragged, the command tearing through the haze of pleasure. “Come with me, now.”

And she does.

Her orgasm slams into her, sharp and overwhelming, her walls convulsing around him as her scream echoes in the steamy room. She shakes against the porcelain, nails clawing at its slick surface, body arching helplessly into the force of it.

The way she clenches around him rips a guttural curse from his chest. He loses his rhythm, his control unraveling as he drives into her once, twice more before his own climax takes him. He buries himself to the hilt, and bites down hard on her neck as he spills hot and deep inside her. The slight sting in her neck is enough to hold her with him in that suspended, shattering moment.

When it finally ebbs, he collapses against her back, still inside her, panting, trembling, his hand splayed flat over her chest as though to ground them both.

Steam curls around them, the bathwater sloshing gently now in the aftermath of the storm. He reverently licks at the new bite mark on her neck, soothing the sting.

“You are mine,” he murmurs hoarsely, forehead pressed to your skin. “Always. My mate.”

“Thank Merlin” she laughs. “We are going to have to come up with a better story about how it happened, or James and Siri will try to murder you and lock me in a broom cupboard.”

He chuckles with her “we’ll just say you finally wore me down. You are by far the most stubborn woman I have ever met, I don’t think they would even question it.”

She turns to face him, cupping his face between her hands and looking into his eyes. His face has relaxed back into his normal calm expression, if not a little more vulnerable than usual. “I have loved you for so many years, I hardly know who I am without loving you.”

He kisses her softly, his hands at her waist, thumbs rubbing careful circles there. “I can’t promise it will always be easy. Things are going to get worse before they get better. But I can promise that I will love you through it all. As I have done every day since I was 11.”

They seal their vows with a kiss.

Chapter Text

The hospital wing smelled faintly of blood and bitter herbs, though most of it’s beds were long abandoned. The war had stripped Hogwarts bare, and the infirmary was now less a place of healing than a quiet refuge for those too stubborn- or too cursed- to leave.

Harrie sat propped against the pillows, her skin ashen, lips cracked, her magic thrumming weakly like a candle guttering in its holder. She had folded her arms across her chest as though to hold herself together, but the trembling in her fingers betrayed her.

“You are starving yourself,” Snape’s voice cut across the stillness. He stood at the foot of her bed, all black angles and coiled restraint, pale hands folded behind his back. The lamplight cast his face in stark relief, his eyes gleaming like chips of obsidian.

“I’m not-” she began, but the lie withered on her tongue. Her throat was on fire, like a localized crucio bouncing around behind her tonsils, but the gnawing ache inside her was worse than hunger. It was self denial of life giving sustenance. She was killing herself in the most brutal way she could manage.

“You think abstinence will preserve your soul.” His tone was dry, but his gaze did not waver. “It will not. It will only kill you, slowly, agonizingly.”

“I won’t feed on people,” Harrie whispered, hoarse. “I won’t become- ” Her breath shuddered. “I won’t become a monster.”

For a long moment, Snape said nothing. The silence was heavier than any words he could have spoken. Then, he moved, sweeping closer until he loomed at her bedside. His hand shot out, pinning her wrist gently but firmly to the coverlet. His touch was cool, not warm.

“You will not have the luxury of martyrdom, Potter,” he said, voice pitched low, vibrating with something that made her pulse leap. “You will not kill yourself because of foolish sentiment.”

Her eyes lifted to his, wide, defiant despite the weakness dragging her down. “What do you want me to do? Bite some poor student? Lurk in the corridors and hope no one notices?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, humorless. “No. You will take what you need- from me.”

The words hit harder than a hex. “What” she croaked, head spinning a bit with surprise.

He rolled up his sleeve with precise movements, baring the pale inner line of his forearm. His skin was marked with old scars, the faint shadow of veins visible beneath. He raised it deliberately toward her.

Her breath caught. “I can’t- ”

“You can. And you will.” His eyes flashed. “Do you imagine I am unacquainted with sacrifice? Do you believe I have bled for anything more important than this? Take it, Potter. Or you will not last the night, and that I will not allow.”

Her fangs ached at the sight, sharp with need she could no longer deny. The scent of him, dark and magnetic, wrapped around her senses until the room seemed to shrink to nothing but his offered arm.

Her voice trembled. “And if I hurt you?”

His lips curved in something between lust and invitation. “You will not.”

Her hands rose before she could think any further, fingers circling his wrist. His skin was cooler than she expected, silk over steel. The scent of him- bitter herbs, parchment, and something spicy- invaded her senses making her mouth water.

When she finally sank her teeth into him, it was not gentle. She was starving and he smelled better than anything she had ever encountered.

The rush of blood filled her mouth, hot and intoxicating. It was more than taste- it was heat spreading through her chest, sliding low into her belly, a dizzying current that made her thighs press together beneath the sheets. A strangled sound escaped her throat, half-moan, half-sob.

Snape’s breath hitched. His free hand came to her hair, brushing it back from her face and cradling her skull against his chest. For the briefest moment, his composure cracked- his lips parted, a sharp hiss of breath escaping as if she’d undone him.

“That’s enough,” he rasped, though there was no authority in it, only strain. His cock was hard and his resolve was balancing on the edge of a knife, so close to tearing off the flimsy hospital gown she wore and fucking her into the mattress.

She didn’t stop. Couldn’t. The pull of him was overwhelming- dark, endless, demanding. Her tongue slid against his skin as she drank, and she felt him shudder under her mouth.

“Harrie.” His voice cut sharp, but it carried a heat that contradicted it. His fingers slipped into her hair and tightened, as if he couldn’t decide if he would rip her away or pull her closer.

She forced herself back with a gasp, lips wet with his blood, chest heaving as if she’d just surfaced from being held underwater. For a long moment, neither of them moved. She could still feel him inside her- the rhythm of his pulse, the raw strength of his magic settling into her own veins.

Snape studied her, his eyes fever-bright, his jaw clenched. He looked both dangerous and… something else. Something that caused her thighs to clench and slick to trickle from her cunt.

“You see now,” he murmured, voice thick, as though it cost him something to speak at all. “You are not evil for this. Merely… hungry.”

Her lips tingled, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks of what she’d taken. She licked the corner of her mouth, slow and uncertain. His gaze followed the movement, and she realized with a sharp twist of her stomach that the hunger wasn’t all hers.

Snape did not move away. He leaned closer instead, his thumb coming to brush against her lip, smearing his blood around it and then dipping inside to rub it onto her tongue. She could feel the heat of him, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his gaze fixed on her mouth as if daring her to take more.

“You’re stronger already,” he said, though his voice was rough, unsteady. His thumb still resting on her tongue, petting it. “And yet you look at me as though you’d devour me whole.”

Her cheeks burned. “Maybe I would.” The words slipped out, reckless, trembling with both fear and want.

Something flickered in his expression- challenge, maybe, but laced with heat. He tilted his head, exposing more of his throat, the scars from Nagini’s bites pale in the lamplight. “Then why stop at the arm?”

Her breath caught. The suggestion was outrageous, but the hunger in her body responded before her mind could. She swayed forward, caught between shame and desire, her tongue flicking out at the sight of his pulse beating just beneath thin skin.

Snape’s hand slid from her hair to the back of her neck, cool fingers tangling at the base of her skull. Not pushing, not pulling- just holding her there, close enough to feel the brush of his silky hair against her cheek. “Go on, then. Drink.”

Her resolve snapped. She leaned in, brushing her lips against his throat, followed by her tongue licking a rough stripe against it before her fangs broke skin. The blood there was hotter, richer, more intimate, and the sound he made- low, involuntary, half-growl, half-gasp-reverberated straight through her.

Her body pressed unconsciously toward him, thighs clenching around the ache the taste of him had awakened. She felt his grip tighten in her hair, holding her steady as she drank.

“Fuck- Harrie” Her name left him on a ragged breath, dark with warning and sharp lust.

She pulled back at last, lips stained, panting. Her eyes met his, and the air between them seemed to spark with everything unspoken. Hunger. History. A dangerous, undeniable need.

There was no telling who broke first but suddenly their lips were pressed together and Snape was licking his blood from the corner of her mouth.

“Snape” Harrie gasped into his mouth her hands rising to grab hold of his hair. “Please. Need you. More.”

Snape growled deep and violently, sweeping her off the bed and switching their positions so he was the one seated and her legs were straddled around his hips.

He bucked his hips into the cradle of her cunt desperate for the warmth promised there.

Harrie grabbed the hem of the hospital gown and pulled it over her head, leaving her completely naked and straddling her completely clothed ex-professor. Somehow, despite the fact that she was the one feeding on him, she felt as if he was the one with all the power.

He swiped his fingers through her folds, spreading the slickness he found there.

“Such a perfect little cunt Potter. Such a good girl. Did taking my blood make you this wet? Did it feel good to finally feed? Let me make you feel even better.”

His hands went to the buttons of his pants and drew out his cock. It stood proudly, red and leaking and reached entirely too high on Harrie’s body.

She was fairly certain there was no way that was going to fit inside her, but she had never backed down from a challenge and she certainly wasn’t going to start now. She wrapped her small hand around him, making his cock seem even larger. She gave it an experimental pump, but Snape seemed to have run out of patience. He fisted his much larger hand around hers and showed her the pace and pressure he preferred. “That’s right Potter. Well done.”

She began rocking her hips in tandem with her hand, getting more and more desperate for some friction. “Snape, I- I need…”

“Yes Potter, go on, take what you need. Take it.”

She rises to her knees and positions his cock at her entrance. Inch by inch, she sank down, taking him into her with aching slowness. Her lips parted on a ragged breath, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain the sound building in her throat. He stretched her so fully she could scarcely think- his magic still burning through her veins, his taste lingering on her tongue, and his cock… sweet Merlin, his cock- thick, unrelenting, filling her to the very edge of her limits. It felt as though he carved out new space inside her, burying himself impossibly deep.

When at last she seated herself fully, her thighs trembling, she dared to lift her gaze. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back, a muscle ticking sharply in his jaw. The expression on his face hovered somewhere between exquisite pain and unbearable pleasure.

She stilled, her body clenching around him, and his hands tightened on her hips in response- fingers biting into her flesh. Then his eyes snapped open, burning into hers, dark and blazing with fire that stole the breath from her lungs.

She heard Snape summon something and watched as a vial of blood replenisher flew into his outstretched hand. He uncorked it with his teeth and downed its contents. When he was finished he dropped the vial onto the bed and placed his hand back on her waist.

“Bite me, Potter.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. Bite me.”

“Oh God” she moaned. She was so painfully aroused her body began rocking on its own volition.

With surprising strength Snape took over the rhythm and began picking her up and dropping her back down on his cock, at the same time he lifted his hips and ground into her, striking every nerve on the way.

Harrie grasped onto his shoulders and leaned her head down to catch his lips in another kiss. It was wet and sloppy but so perfect she never wanted it to end. She felt Snape trace one of her fangs with his tongue and suddenly the coppery taste of his blood filled her mouth.

Gasping she reared back and was struck by the sight of Snape smiling, smiling with blood coating his teeth and his lips shining with their spit. He was fucking beautiful.

“Oh… Snape” she whispered and tried to kiss him again. This time he turned his head and grabbed her face in between his hands. He vanished his shirt wandlessly and used his grip to guide her head down to his chest and in a voice of velvet and steel said “bite.”

And for once, she did as she was told. His sweet blood welled up from the bite and overflowed past her lips running in two rivulets down his chest towards his abs. Licking the bite closed she leaned back to admire the vision before her. Merlin was he a sight. Pale skin and crimson blood, scars littering his lean, muscular form. Heat filled her face and slick dripped down his shaft and onto his sack beneath them.

She moved above him with reckless abandon, every thrust driving her closer to the edge. The pleasure coiled low in her belly, a slow, relentless burn that spread like wildfire through her body, igniting every nerve. Her pace faltered only when Snape’s hand slid between them, his fingers finding her clit with ruthless precision. He pinched, tugged, and the jolt of sensation shattered her.

Her release tore through her- sudden, overwhelming, impossible to contain. She cried out, the sounds spilling from her lips raw and unguarded, her body clenching tightly around him as the waves of pleasure consumed her.

Snape growled and arched under her, thrusting as deeply as he could, cock head sitting snug against her womb and a sudden warmth filled her as he came.

The hospital wing was silent again, save for the sound of their breathing. The sheets were tangled, her hair damp against her flushed face, blood still smeared his chest and his trousers were ruined with their combined release. For once, Severus Snape did not look untouchable.

Harrie lay her head on his shoulder, her pulse still racing, her fangs retracted now that her thirst was sated. Shame and exhilaration tangled together until she could hardly breathe.

“I…” Her voice broke. “I didn’t know it could be like this.”

Snape hummed, his fingers idly combing through the ends of her hair. “I don’t believe this will be a common experience, Potter. It seems we are… compatible. I don’t believe you will find similar attraction to others you feed from”

She bristled, even in her exhaustion. “I don’t want to feed from anyone else.”

“Well then,” his hand stilled, cupping the back of her head, “I suppose I will have to keep plenty of blood replenisher on hand.”

Her throat tightened. She pulled back just enough to see his face, pale and sharp in the moonlight spilling through the infirmary windows. “Is that… would that- be okay?”

His gaze fixed on her, his eyes soft but commanding. “Yes. So long as you are mine and mine alone.”

Her heart tripped at that, his demand both a claim and a warning. Her mind whirling with everything it might mean and visions of the future they could have together. 

“Rest, Harrie,” he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of command. “Tomorrow, we can worry about everything else.”

Chapter Text

Draco surrounded her, eclipsing her like the earth does the moon. Somewhere between fourth and fifth year he shot up in height, leaving her smaller frame dwarfed in comparison and he never let her forget it, always teasing her whenever they were alone.

He was thrusting inside her now with a desperation that spoke of fear as much as love, as if claiming what had always been his might keep the world at bay. She clung to him just as fiercely, aching to be claimed, knowing with bone-deep certainty that there would never be anyone else for her.

To the rest of the school they were rivals- enemies, even, in every lesson and every match. But behind closed doors, in stolen moments and secret places, Harriet Potter and Draco Malfoy were entirely, irrevocably in love.

Their love had crept in quietly, neither of them could say when the falling began. By now, in their sixth year, it felt as though it had always been there. The war had been raging for nearly two years, throwing obstacle after obstacle in their path. The risk of being discovered had only grown as more time passed and the consequences of that discovery had become deadly.

——

The door to the Room of Requirement sealed itself behind her, vanishing into smooth stone as Harriet pressed her back against it, heart hammering. She’d received his note earlier that day in potions asking her to meet him that night, that they had something urgent to discuss. Donning her cloak, she slipped past wandering prefects and Filch, attempting to ignore the feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

Draco was waiting by the fireplace, the light from it gilding his pale hair in soft gold. But he didn’t look like the boy who used to smirk at her across crowded corridors. He looked older tonight. Haunted.

“Hello sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and frayed.

“Draco” Harriet whispered, crossing to him. Her hand found his arm, but he didn’t lean into her touch. His fingers tightened around the parchment he was holding, the seal already broken, the edges crumpled as if he’d crushed it and then smoothed it out again- more than once.

“What is it?” she asked, the dread curling in her belly raising up, threatening to choke her.

He heaved a sharp breath and his hands rose to the mantle over the fire, gripping the wood tightly. “My mother wrote. He’s moved in.”

She didn’t need to ask who. The weight in his words was enough. Voldemort.

Harriet’s hand slipped onto his back, feeling his muscles tense and bunch with strain. “Draco-”

“He’ll use me,” Draco cut in looking back at her, his grey eyes burning with a desperate intensity. “If he ever found out about us…” His jaw clenched, his throat working as he tried to speak through the storm rising inside him. “Potters only love once, isn’t that what they say? What everyone knows, thanks to your father. If he knew I was yours-”

“Then he would use you to hurt me,” Harriet said with tears evident in her voice, stepping closer until her forehead rested against his chest. “But he can’t make me stop loving you. Do you hear me? There’s no magic on earth that can make me stop loving you, Draco Malfoy.”

For a heartbeat, the walls of the castle, the war beyond, and the shadow of Voldemort seemed to fall away. There was only the two of them, pressed together in a room that gave them whatever they needed most- tonight, warmth, safety, and a bed draped in soft green and gold.

Draco’s mouth found hers, desperate and trembling, tasting of fear. Harriet clung to him as if she could anchor him here, to her, away from the dark future waiting at his doorstep.

They tumbled onto the bed, hands mapping familiar paths as though trying to memorize one another. He stripped off her pajamas slowly, as reverently as the first time they had done this at the beginning of the year. They had only managed to do it a handful of times but tonight their need for comfort and closeness was driving their movements. Every kiss was a promise. His tongue seeking hers, and as he mapped her breasts, her arse, her belly with his hands, he swallowed each precious gasp he wrung from her.

When he reached the wetness of her center he looked down at her and whispered “I want to try something. Stay there.” With a nervous nod of her head, Draco slowly began to kiss his way down her body. Stopping briefly at her breasts to nip and suck at her pebbled nipples, making her writhe and moan with each pull of his mouth. With what seems like a great effort he tore himself away from her breasts and continued making his way towards her center.

When he reached her cunt he inhaled deeply- she smelled so fucking good. Musky and slightly floral. He met her eyes and then leaned his head down and licked her cunt from bottom to top. A sound of surprise slipped from her lips which quickly turned to a needy whine as his tongue burrowed between her folds and found her clit. He began circling with quick little strokes before adding his fingers which slipped inside her carefully.

Her breath began to race and her hands found their way into his hair. She tried not to move too much but the urge to buck her hips into his mouth was overpowering. “Where- where did you learn how to do this!?” She panted into the room, eyes still latched onto his. He pinned her with strong hands on her thighs, holding her still only to drag his tongue in deeper, teasing her, tasting her like she was the sweetest thing he’d ever been given.

He grinned into her cunt and whispered back “Father is very diligent in making sure I am prepared for my future. He had diagrams and everything.”

His mouth was hot, wet, and unrelenting, sliding along every slick fold as though she were something he’d been starved for. He parted her with his tongue, dipping into her, then retreating only to lap at her with long, languid strokes that made her toes curl. He kissed her cunt the same way he kissed her mouth- hungry, wet, greedy, like he couldn’t get enough.

When he finally closed his mouth around her clit and sucked, her whole body seized up, orgasm rushing through her, thighs clamping around his head, a strangled cry tumbling from her lips.

Draco didn’t stop there. Even as she trembled and writhed, he kept licking, softening the pressure just enough to draw out every last shudder, every whimper. He lapped her up as if she were his only salvation, his groans filling the space between her cries.

When at last she slumped back against the pillows, boneless and trembling, he began kissing his way up her body. His tongue tracing pathways over her soft skin from her trembling thighs to the hollow of her stomach, up the slope of her breasts, over the frantic beat of her heart.

By the time he reached her lips, she was incoherent with pleasure, but she still kissed him back fiercely, tasting herself in his mouth, her tongue sliding against his with a hunger she had only ever shown him.

He vanished his clothes, threw his wand over the side of the bed and leaned down to press his skin against hers, all heat and weight, his knees forcing her legs apart until she was wide open beneath him once more.

Draco slid his cock along her folds, the swollen head dragging through her slick making an obscene noise as it traveled. Each teasing pass made her hips jerk, made her whimper into his mouth until she couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Ah...Draco, please!" She begged, voice ragged and desperate.

“Shh sweetheart, I’ve got you. I know what you need.” He murmured, his voice a quiet promise against the skin of the throat.

With one steady thrust, he pushed his cock deep inside her. Harrie cried out, nails biting into his shoulders as her body stretched around him, inch after glorious inch. The pressure was overwhelming, toe-curling, the perfect blend of pain and pleasure.

“Fuck…” Draco groaned, voice breaking as he bottomed out inside her. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, lips brushing her ear as he panted hot and heavy. “So tight- so perfect. Like you were made for me.”

Her body fluttered around him at the words, and she buried her face in his neck, muffling a whimper. He stayed there for a moment, buried to the hilt, his breath hot and ragged against her neck. Then he pulled back slow, torturous, before slamming into her again.

As Draco set a rapid rhythm, Harrie frantically gripped onto his biceps curling her legs around his trim waist. Each thrust was hard, his hips grinding against hers just enough to press that sensitive spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyes. She weathered his frantic thrusts, arching her own hips in an attempt to pull him even closer.

“Draco-oh, gods-” She panted, legs tightening cunt clenching.

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Hold me close...fuck I love you so much.”

His lips crashed against hers, hungry and bruising, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue. She kissed him back with desperation, clinging to him as though she could merge with his body entirely.

“I love you Draco, oh! Love you so much.”

A guttural sound tore from Draco’s throat as his hips slammed forward, driving into her so deep she cried out. His control was hanging on by a thread, her cunt was so tight, so hot, and it belonged only to him. He gripped her neck with his hand, not tight, not enough to scare her, but enough to say ‘you’re mine’. Panting harshly he fucked her harder, each thrust punctuated with a shudder that wracked through his body.

“No matter where you are Harrie, no matter who you’re with- fuck- you will always be mine. We were made for each other. Don’t forget that. You can’t forget baby.”

Harrie whimpered, clutching him tighter, her body quaking beneath him. “I won’t,” she choked out, desperate and undone. “I swear, I won’t- oh, please don’t stop-”

Draco groaned so loud it echoed off the walls, his teeth grazing her jaw. His thrusts grew brutal, frantic, chasing the high that pulsed in his veins.

Her body convulsed around him, hot and wet, clenching tight with each drag of his cock. He reached down, finding her clit, desperate to push her over the edge. “Come for me, Harrie,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “Come on my cock.”

Harrie cried out, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure ripped through her. Her cunt clamped down on him so tight he nearly saw stars, her cries muffled only by his lips crashing against hers. He was desperate to drink her cries directly from her lips, to memorize their taste. He had no idea when- or if- he would ever hear them again. He made love to her like it was the last time, because it very well might be.

He held on as long as he could, but her orgasm tore his from him with a gasp. Her body clamped down around him, fluttering and squeezing, and he was lost.

A growl ripped from his chest as he spilled into her, hips jerking, hand fisting the sheets beside her head like he could anchor himself against the sheer force of it.

He collapsed on top of her, muscles trembling, breath coming from him in gasps and his skin slick with sweat. He kissed every inch of skin he could reach, lingering on her sweet lips as long as he dared.

———

While the fire burned low in the hearth, Harriet lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His arm curled around her tightly, as though he’d never let go, but his voice betrayed him.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back to school after break,” he murmured into her hair. “He’ll be watching me.”

Harriet swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Then I’ll wait. However long it takes. You’re it for me, Draco. Forever.”

She tried looking up at him then but his grip tightened. He couldn’t say what he needed to while she was looking at him with those eyes. “It’s too dangerous to go home feeling like I do. You- you have to make me forget Harrie. I have to forget it all.”

“What!? No! No I- I won’t do that Draco. I can’t. How can you even ask me to do that?”

His breath caught, and he buried his face in her hair. “Merlin, Potter… I wish there was another way but if there is I can’t see it. No one else knows about us. You have to be the one. I wish I could ask someone else but.. it has to be you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Draco-“

“Make me forget,” Draco interrupted desperately, the words were a raw thing, pulled from the very marrow of him. He sounded so small- so much smaller than the Malfoy she knew who towered over her every chance he got. She wrenched herself out of the bed and redressed. Taking the moment to pretend everything was fine. To pretend he wasn’t asking her to erase their love from his memories.

When she looked back at him he was dressed as well. His face was open, vulnerable in a way she was unfamiliar with. There was no Malfoy mask left to smooth his features; only terror, only pleading. “You need to take it out. All of it. Us. Every private moment we’ve ever had, toni-” His voice broke. “Take it out, Harrie. If he can’t see anything suspicious, he can’t use it to kill you.”

Harriet’s hands fisted. Her nails dug into her palms. “You’re asking me to rip my heart of my chest and watch it turn against me. No. No I can’t.”

Draco’s eyes widened in a way that made her chest split open. “Please,” he whispered. “You don’t understand. If he thinks I love- if he sees my memories of us- he’ll use it to break you. He’ll torture me and make you watch, then when you come to save me, because we both know you will, he’ll make me torture you. He’ll make me hurt you in every way he can think of. He’ll-” he swallowed hard. “I’d rather not remember you than give him a guaranteed way to get to you.”

Something in Harriet- a small part growing larger the more he spoke- had to acknowledge what he was saying was true. Voldemort would relish in distorting their love in such a way. He has taken every opportunity to mock the love she and Dumbledore proclaimed to be the strongest magic of all. To pervert that love and turn it into a weapon would be a triumph for him.

“Obliviate,” Draco said, the name of the spell falling from his lips like a stone. “Just one spell and I can keep you safe. It will be as if we never fell in love. It will be as if we have always been enemies, the way everyone else knows us to be. I’ll wake up and… I- I-” he choked on a sob. “I’ll hate you.”

She flinched as if struck. The idea that she would look into his eyes and see only loathing- never see the warmth of his love there again- made the room spin. Her memories of him wouldn’t change, but she would be left carrying the weight of their love alone. She could envision the nights she would be forced to mourn him in secret, the days watching him stand across the hall and clench his jaw at her in disgust and hatred.

“Do you understand what you’re asking of me?”He met her gaze but all he saw was the fire from the hearth behind him reflected there. “You’re asking me to save myself and the whole fucking Wizarding world by removing the only bright light in each of our shitty lives. What is the point of all this if I don’t have you?!”

He laughed then, a small, harried sound. “You make it sound so noble,” he said, and the attempt at a grin fell apart. “It’s not noble, Harrie. It’s selfish. I can’t stand the thought of being used like that. I’d rather wake up hollow and miserable than watch you be torn apart because of me.”

She strode forward quickly, her hands found his face. She studied the slope of his brow and the curve of his lips, searching for doubt. His pupils were huge; the silver of his eyes swallowed in fear. He was asking her to murder him- not with a blade, but with the erasure of everything that made him who he was now.

“If I do it,” she said slowly, because every word had to be measured, “there is no guarantee we will ever get your memories back. They could be gone forever- you might never love me again. Even if you do remember… you will do things for Voldemort that you would never do in normal circumstances. Will you be able to live with yourself? Will you-” She couldn’t finish the question; the prospects were too many and all of them terrible.

“You’ll remember,” he said hoarsely. “You’ll remember everything. If there is anyone who can guide me back, who can save me from myself, it’s you. ” His mouth tightened. “But you need to remember, the person I’ll be… he won’t be trustworthy. He will sell you out in a heartbeat if it means it will benefit him in any way. He’ll want to kill you.”

She flinched. She thought of the morning their grudging respect for one another had turned into something else, something deeper. She thought of how he had teased her in private, how he had shown a sliver of softness for her alone. She thought of every time she had chosen him and every time he had chosen her. She thought of the hatred that would swell inside him when those choices were erased from his mind.

“I would do anything for you, you know? I would kill to keep you” she said. 

Draco closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. “That’s what scares me,” he said. “You’d let the world burn for me. That’s why they’d use us. They’d make you do what you would never do otherwise because you love me.”

For a long moment there was only the thud of two hearts that had always tried to fit into the same body. She could her the tremor in his breath, the tremor that said he was holding himself together by threads that frayed with each second.

“How will I live with it?” she whispered. “Knowing you will look at me and not know me. Knowing you will want to-”

“Kill you?” His question was hardly even a question, more his deepest fear spoken aloud. “Maybe I won’t, maybe I’ll be too cowardly to want to kill you. Maybe I’ll be too scared to hurt anyone. Maybe I’ll wake with your name on my lips and my cock hard from dreaming about you. Maybe I’ll be the kind of person who just tries his best to survive and keep his family alive. I-” He laughed, soundless and broken. “Or maybe I’ll surprise everyone and save you for once. But I- I know this is the right thing to do for us now.”

She saw the terror in him: not of losing his memories, but of losing his agency- of becoming someone whose hands moved at the will of someone else. She saw the truth of what he thought he might become if Voldemort found the thread he needed. She saw, too, the savage, heartbreaking bravery of the request.

Harriet had never been good at choosing between the lesser of two horrors. She had only been good at choosing Draco, especially when the choice meant a maze of self-sacrifice.

She turned then, stepping away in a motion that felt like surrender. He followed her with his eyes, as if fearing she might change her mind and try to put him in a body bind and make a run for it. “If I do this,” she said, voice small and steady, “and I can’t get your memories back once it’s safe, I will never leave you alone. I will be at your side night and day until you love me again. I will haunt you Draco Malfoy.”

“I’d expect nothing less sweetheart.”

She turned back to him, noticing he had followed her step for step. Her hands went to his face and she kissed him, once, twice more. Her heart was breaking. She felt like she was bleeding, hemorrhaging all of the hope and happiness in her life and no matter how hard she tried to stem the flow, it just kept spilling between her fingers. Tears streamed down both of their faces, turning their kiss to a salty mess.

He pressed his forehead to hers, and for a moment they were only two people clinging to each other as the tide came in. Then, with the steadiness of someone stepping up to gallows of his own making, Draco turned and paced to the door and placed his hand on the knob. He closed his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice had the hollow calm of someone who had made up his mind.

“Do it,” he said.

Harriet’s hands shook so violently she could hardly raise them. The room seemed to tilt, and the world narrowed to what she was about to do. She reached for her wand, and a sob tore through her. The incantation she’d never thought she’d use on someone who loved her formed on her lips.

Her mind was racing. So many thoughts crowded her mind, she could hardly make sense of them all. She thought, selfishly, that she was being asked to make yet another sacrifice for the greater good. She thought that Voldemort was once again taking someone she loved away from her.  She thought that love had already taught her how to be braver than she thought she was capable of.

Then she drew breath forced her mind to clear and spoke the word that would sever them; and the room grew silent as the grave once more.

Chapter Text

Harriet and Fred squeezed into the booth near the back of the pub, Butterbeers frothing between them. It was crowded, noisy, and smelled faintly of roasted nuts and damp cloaks. Perfect cover for a bit of mischief, Fred had decided.

“Cozy isn’t it?” he said, sliding just a little too close for a casual lunch with his girlfriend, his grin wide and salacious.

“Fred Weasley,” Harriet muttered, trying not to laugh as his knee bumped hers under the table. “You’re plotting something.”

“Plotting? Me? Never. Just appreciating the strategic advantages of a cramped booth.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “For example, no one can see what’s happening under the table.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Fred!”

“What? I meant like—hand-holding!” he protested, catching her wrist dramatically. “Or maybe tickling? Oh, you’re ticklish, aren’t you?”

Harriet smothered a laugh into her Butterbeer as his fingers brushed teasingly over her palm. He moved even closer still, all but draping himself over her smaller frame. “You are not about to start a tickle war in the middle of the Three Broomsticks.”

“Depends how brave I’m feeling.” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “And Mum does say I am her bravest boy.”

Before she could retort, Madam Rosmerta passed their table with a tray full of empty glasses, giving Fred a pointed eyebrow. He coughed, straightened, and—while keeping his most innocent grin—slid his hand back above the table where she could see it.

“See? Perfect gentleman,” he said solemnly.

But as inevitable as a Weasley twin finding trouble, Fred’s hand crept below the table again and the look of mischief returned to his face, now mixed with something a bit… more.

Harrie had a terrible feeling when she felt his hand land on her knee and the feeling only got worse when she felt it slowly slide up the inside of her thigh. “Fred!” She hissed, making half hearted attempts to push his hand away.

But it seemed he would not be deterred. His hand crept up, up, up. All the while his smirk had turned into a wicked thing, full of promise. “Ah! I forgot to tell you! We have finally figured out what was going wrong with our Sweet Dream Creams! You know how it kept making us dream about a bloke called Jeff who droned on and on about crosswalk signals not matching up with the traffic ones? Well we realized….”

At this point his fingers had reached the crotch of her tights, under her skirt and were rubbing firm little cresses up and down the seam giving a tap to her clit at the apex of each stroke. She tried to listen, tried to keep her face impassive, or maybe even engaged, but she could feel the blood filling her cheeks. She clamped down on his hand with her thighs, but she was no match for her clever boyfriend. With one particularly villainous stroke and a whispered charm keeping her thighs spread, she let out a mortifyingly loud squeak. 

“What’s wrong love? Ah, I must be boring you. We can discuss something else, though I did think you’d be glad to be rid of Jeff, right wanker he was. We get it, it’s a safety hazard, sod off mate. Now, what is going on in my lovely girlfriend’s world? There’s something different about you today, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Her knickers were now uncomfortably wet, and his fingers- those blasted fingers- were sliding through the damp patch with such ease. “Oh Fred, you absolute wretch! I’m going to throw something at you as soon as I am able, something heavy. Just wait.”

“Come now love! A bloke can’t always keep track of the new beauty trends you witches are following. Give me a hand!”

And with that, he slid his whole hand into her tights and beneath her knickers. Her cunt was so slick she was afraid people at the next table over could hear when Fred started to resume his stroking, this time with a circle around her clit at the end of each stroke.

Harrie whimpered and attempted to take a sip of her butterbeer for a distraction. She glanced at Fred who had a polite smile plastered to his devious face. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Ah, you’ve got a bit- just there” and Fred swept some of the foam from the corner of her lip while at the same time he plunged two fingers into her tight, wet channel. Her mouth popped open in a gasp and Fred took the advantage and slipped the foam into her mouth, rubbing it directly on her tongue.

“Merlin’s Beard love, it’s a good thing I’ve got quick fingers, you’d be a mess without me.”

His fingers were reaching a spot inside her now that made her see stars and the heel of his palm was pressed so deliciously to her clit that she couldn’t help but grind down onto it while subtly fucking herself on his hand.

His grin had grown so much when he felt her begin to ride him that he wasn’t even trying to hide his smug satisfaction.

“Anywho, I’d be happy to tell you about Georgie’s and my strategy for the upcoming match with Hufflepuff. You are aware of course that I am an expert in… precision work.” At that he ground his fingers into that sweet spot of hers and she came so close to crying out that she had to lean her head onto his shoulder and bite down on his jacket to muffle whatever embarrassing noise managed to escape.

“There, there love, we won’t get hurt. Last time I even almost scored a goal, as a beater! I bet they would never guess that my fingers are so versatile.”

His pace increased, the pleasure that was building in her belly reached a crescendo and she couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Of course I can’t help it. I have very nimble fingers, it’s why I’m so good at, you know… pranks.”

He pressed down on her clit and rubbed at her g-spot at the same time and it was enough to send her over the edge. She came with a long moan buried into his neck. Her thighs shook with pleasure and her hands gripped her skirt to keep from doing anything else that would fry her with embarrassment.

When the last waves of pleasure had passed and Fred had slipped his hand out of her knickers and adjusted her tights back into place, she picked up her butterbeer to take a sip in an attempt to ground herself back in the moment.

Fred turned to her with a deadly straight face and said “Darling, I’d say you’ve been well and truly fingered. You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said have you?”

Harrie choked on her drink and punched him in the chest. “Mischief managed you wanker” she said when she finally got her breath back.

Chapter Text

Harriet Potter was sick and tired of being the Chosen One. The Ministry, the Prophet, even the Order wanted her to smile politely, speak about “hope,” and Merlin forbid she use anything stronger than a stunner when fighting against people who were trying to kill her. When it was discovered that she had tried to crucio Bellatrix that night at the Ministry, the fallout had been extreme. She had been called everything from ‘misguided’ to the next ‘Dark Lady’.

She had promised Dumbledore that she was fine. That she would put her head down and keep playing the sweet Savior of the Light. But after Sirius’s death, using light magic against those who had a hand in it felt like a cruel joke. She felt like she was suffocating under all of their expectations. So she started slipping out of Grimmauld Place and vanishing into London’s party scene. She drank with strangers, snuck into Uni parties, and came home smelling of smoke and cheap liquor.

When she stumbled back one night, boots scuffing the hallway rug, Remus was waiting in the kitchen. A single candle burned low, and his face was a map of exhaustion and something harder, something unyielding.

“Sit down.” His voice carried no room for disobedience.

Harriet crossed her arms, swaying slightly. “Don’t start. I’m not your daughter, Remus. You don’t get to scold me like one.”

He stood slowly, and quietly prowled around the table. “No, you’re not my daughter,” he said. His eyes caught the candlelight, they had the telltale amber glow that signaled the wolf was close to the surface. “But you are James and Lily’s. You were Sirius’s. And you dishonor every single sacrifice they made to keep you safe when you carry on like this.”

“You don’t know anything! You have no idea. You have no right to tell me how to live! They are dead! They don’t have a say and neither do you.”

His hand slammed flat against the wall beside her head, cutting her words short. His voice dropped, ragged with restraint. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare dishonor them with this self-destruction, Harriet.”

She stared at him, caught between fury and shame. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” he said bitterly. “I’ve lived my whole life under suspicion, fighting to prove I wasn’t the monster they all thought. I know what it’s like to constantly have to prove yourself, to constantly put on a show, to wear the mask everyone expects. I have never given them the satisfaction of seeing me fall.” His grip closed around her arm, firm, unyielding. “You will not give Voldemort or the Ministry or anyone else that satisfaction either. I won’t allow it.”

Harriet tried to twist free, but his strength startled her. His voice was merciless now:

“You will stop sneaking out. You will stop drinking yourself senseless. You will listen to Dumbledore, you will study and apply yourself- or you will answer to me.”

Her chest heaved. “And what will you do Remus? Spank me?”

His eyes flashed, wolf-bright in the dim hall. “I will make sure you learn. You may hate me for it, Harriet, but I will break every ounce of rebellion in you before I let you spit on their sacrifice and get yourself killed.”

“Fuck you, Remus.” She tore her arm out of his grasp and stomped up the stairs, slamming the door to her room for good measure.

———

The next night Harrie transfigured one of her school skirts into something tighter and shorter. She didn’t have any makeup, wouldn’t know how to put it on even if she did, but she thought she looked alright without it anyway. Her hair was left long, and she tucked her chucks under her arm, putting a silencing charm on her socked feet as a precaution. She had heard Remus head into his room an hour ago but his hearing was far superior to normal men so if she wanted to get out undetected, she would need magical assistance.

She opened the door and began to tiptoe down the hall. She made it as far as the library when out of the darkness she heard a deep and rough growl. The hearth flared to life and there sitting on a wingback chair was Remus. His eyes aglow with fury and a sneer on his lips.

The flames painted his face in copper and shadow, sharpening every line until he looked more beast than man.

“Going somewhere?” His voice was low, dangerous, the kind of rumble that vibrated in her bones.

Harriet froze, her toes curling inside her socks, her trainers clutched tighter to her side. For a heartbeat, she considered lying- but Remus’s gaze cut through her, silencing anything she may have said, instantly.

“I…” she fought to keep her voice steady. “Just needed some air.”

“Air.” He repeated it like a curse. Slowly, he rose from the chair, every inch of him deliberate and  controlled. His height and presence filled the room until she felt cornered. “You sneak about in the middle of the night, dressed like that, silencing your steps- for air?”

Her cheeks burned. “You can’t keep me locked up like a prisoner. I’m not anyone’s to command.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes. “No. You’re just a misbehaving child.” He stepped closer, and she felt the heat radiating off him like a furnace. “Maybe that’s how we should treat you instead hmmm? You hate being treated like the Chosen One. Maybe we can find a better way.”

Her fists clenched, nails biting her palms. “I’m not a child.”

The sneer on his lips twisted into something slightly mocking, tinged with something she couldn’t place. “You’re certainly acting like one. But I think I can help. Would you let me help you?”

“I don’t need help. Don’t you see? Everyone who tries to help me dies! Just leave me alone.” She moved towards the door once more.

His hand shot out, not enough to hurt but as unyielding as iron, clamping around her wrist. “Do you think I can’t stop you? That I won’t? You forget, Harriet, I may act like the calm and rational old Professor Lupin for everyone, but I am first and foremost, a wolf.”

Her pulse skittered beneath his grip. His voice dropped lower, nearly a growl.

“You are not going anywhere.” His grip tightened just enough to make her gasp. “Not when every part of you is begging for someone strong enough to stop you. I’m not going to coddle you like everyone else, Harrie. I can see through your mask. And I can see how badly you need this. Need me.”

For a moment she fought against his hold, the wild spark in her raging at yet another person trying to tell her what to do. But the wolf was there in his eyes, fierce and unblinking, and suddenly she was desperate for him to help her.

He was right. She needed- she needed someone, him, to take it all away. To make it all just stop. Remus.. Remus wouldn’t let her get away with anything. He would help. He wouldn’t judge. He wouldn’t look at her with hero worship or like some kind of broken misfit. He wouldn’t sneer at her for not doing enough, not being enough. To him, she would always be Harrie. Just Harrie.

She tore her gaze away from his before he could see the tears in her eyes and muttered, “Fine.”

Remus stepped forward, he placed his hand on her cheek and tilted her face up to his. “If we do this, you will do everything I say. You will not question me. You will obey. If you need to stop at any time you will say the word ‘red’ and I will stop immediately. Do you understand?”

The fire hissed in the silence between them, Harriet stared into his eyes, she had no idea what to expect. She had no idea what she was doing. But she needed this. There was no question in her mind. She needed Remus to make her feel safe, cared for, seen.

“I understand.”

“Go kneel by the chair. Place your hands in your lap and look down at the floor.”

She moved slowly to follow his command, at his sharp growl she hastened her steps and dropped to her knees by the chair. The fire was warm at her back but all of her focus was directed towards listening to the sounds of Remus moving about the room.

She heard him pour himself a drink. The sound of crystal clinking, liquid being poured and the small sniff of appreciation he always gave with a particularly good mouthful of firewhiskey.

She wished she could look at him, but she wanted to be good. She wanted this, whatever this was. She wanted to earn approval for once, rather than just having it handed to her for the sake of her name or her supposed victories. But it wasn’t just anyone’s approval she craved.

She wanted his. So she sat silently, waiting. Finally after what seemed like forever, she felt his hand brush over her hair, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“You’ve pushed or outright ignored every boundary we set, Harriet. I’ve warned you, I’ve reasoned with you, and still you defied me. That ends tonight. I will punish you, not because I enjoy it, but because you need to understand the weight of your actions. What word will you say if you need me to stop?”

“Red” she whispered.

Remus took his seat in the chair, legs spread “lay over my lap face down, place your hands on my ankle.”

Harrie hurried to comply. She had never been this close to anyone before, sure she and Sirius had cuddled a few times, but this, this was something more. She probably should have felt shame, or maybe embarrassment, but all she felt was the subtle release of tension.

Her world began to narrow. The edges of the room blurred, sounds dimming until only his voice cut through, low and steady. Her pulse pounded in her ears at first, frantic and defiant, but slowly it softened, falling into the rhythm of his breath rocking her softly.

It wasn’t a snap, but a slow melting. Her shoulders uncoiled, her jaw loosened. The fight in her belly didn’t vanish so much as it dissolved, seeping away until all that was left was a warm, heavy quiet.

Remus placed one of his hands on the small of her back, his thumb rubbing small circles in the muscle there. Every stroke seemed magnified; every breath he took seemed deeper, more focused. Her breathing slowed and deepened to match. A strange floaty warmth spread from her chest to her limbs, leaving her pliant, almost weightless. The need to think, to run, to argue slipped out of reach. All she could do was feel.

And beneath it all was a single, thrumming awareness: she was his, at least for this moment, and surrendering didn’t feel like losing- it felt like flying. She felt free.

Remus began to run his other hand over the back of her thigh, it was huge and encompassed so much of her skin, she barely noticed that on each pass her skirt was pushed higher and higher. That is until his hand rested fully on the smooth skin of her arse. She had worn simple cotton knickers, with a small lace edge that his fingers had begun tracing. They curled around the edge of them and yanked once, bringing them down to just below the crease of her thigh.

His hand came back to her now naked skin and Harriet held her breath, waiting for him to speak. “You will receive one strike for every time you snuck out of the house. That’s 15, in case you’ve lost count.”

“Yes, sir.”

The first strike landed with a sharp sound and a jolting sting, the warmth of his hand made her breath hitch. Before the next, he smoothed his hand over the same spot, tracing circles as if claiming what he’d just marked.

Another swat. Another warm hand to soothe. Another swat. Another grounding touch. His rhythm was deliberate- not cruelty, but a ritual that made her muscles tense and unclench one by one. With each soothing rub, his fingers seemed to run closer and closer to her heat. She was embarrassed to think of what he would find there if he were to let them slip all the way. She had no idea why she was getting wet from being spanked like a child, but she was absolutely soaked and each strike only made the problem worse.

With each swat her arse grew warmer and warmer. Her breath hitching and little pained cries and wanton moans began escaping from her mouth. The strength behind his swings grew more and more intense as he went, as if he was gaining confidence in her ability to handle it.

When he finally stilled, his hand stayed on her, resting gently against the heat he had built. His thumb rubbed a slow arc into her skin, and his voice dropped to a murmur near her ear.

“Breathe. You’re safe. You’re here with me.”

In that quiet space, Harriet realized she was trembling not with fear but with the disorienting intimacy of their situation- of being held, guided, and seen even while she was being punished. “Do you need more Harrie?”

It took her a moment to find her voice, but eventually she croaked out a whimpered plea “yes- please Remus. More. I- I need…”

“It’s alright Harrie. I know. I know what you need. You’re doing so well. I’m very proud of you.”

With another crack his hand landed hard on her arse, her pale skin had bloomed into the most lovely shade of red. The slickness of her cunt was evident in the firelight. Slowly as to not spook her he began to dip his fingers into that inviting, wet warmth.

“You can give it all to me Harrie. I can handle it for you for as long as you need. You simply need to submit and I will give you everything I have to give. But if you disobey, I will not hesitate to punish you.”

Crack, another swat on her cheek, turning it slightly purple. “Tonight though, you’ve done so well. I’m so pleased.”

He dipped his fingers into her heat sliding first one and then two fingers far into her channel, the slickness easing his path all the way up to his knuckles.

“Oh! Yes. Oh please.”

“That’s it Harrie. Stay still. Let me show you how wonderful it can feel to obey.”

He built her up steadily. His fingers rubbing against her walls, knuckles dragging against that sensitive place inside her causing her to buck up involuntarily. He whispered a charm Sirius had taught him back in his school days that would cast a tingling coolness on her clit, making it seem to almost vibrate. She let out an adorable squeal at the sensation.

Remus felt her walls begin to tremble and flutter and the sounds of her slick cunt became more lewd with each pump. She was close. But he still had one last lesson to teach her. He fingered her to the very edge of orgasm. Her panting and begging were so beautiful, he almost felt bad for what he was about to do.

She was perhaps seconds away from an earth shattering orgasm when he pulled out his fingers and canceled the charm on her clit. “Wh-what? No! Oh, please, Remus! Why did you stop!?”

“Stand up Harrie.”

She scrambled off his lap and stood in front of him with her knickers around her thighs and her skirt tucked up around her waist. Her slick dripping in between her thighs making them shine in the firelight.

Slowly he pulled up her knickers and fixed her skirt back into place ignoring her protests and pleas.

“It is very frustrating when someone does not listen when asked to do something isn’t it? I do not enjoy punishing you darling, I hope this lesson will stick and we do not need to repeat it.”

He looked directly into her eyes as he stood, towering over her. He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead and whispered into her hair “you will go up to bed now, and sleep. You will not touch yourself. You may not orgasm until I allow it. I will know if you do darling. Do not test me.”

And with that he wandered up to his room to take care of his own, urgent needs, smirking at the memory of the thunderstruck expression on her face.

Chapter Text

There was a crowd gathering in the Charms corridor. That was never a good sign. Harrie Potter, being far too short to see over the heads of the students craning for a view, relied on the voices instead. Raised, jeering- and horribly familiar. Dread pooled in her stomach.

At her shoulder, Lily sighed, the two of them exchanging a look of weary resignation.

The benefits of being small, Harrie reminded herself, was that you could barrel through a crowd and no one ever really minded- they usually thought it was adorable. So with a few elbows to ribs and a trod-on toe or two, Harrie and Lily forced their way to the front just in time to see Severus Snape dangling upside down by his ankle, his robes hanging indecently over his head.

And, of course, at the other end of the wand was her idiot brother, and Sirius Black, laughing like hyenas.

Merlin’s beard. Again?

Harrie stomped forward, her temper spiking hot. “Oi! What the hell, James?”

She brought her heel down hard on her twin’s foot. James yelped and dropped his wand arm, the spell breaking. Severus hit the flagstones in a graceless heap, scrambling upright in an instant. His lip was split from the fall, blood glistening at the corner of his mouth, but his wand was already back in his hand- pointed straight at James.

The crowd roared with anticipation, hoping for a duel.

But Lily slipped forward, sliding between them. She laid a careful hand on Severus’s sleeve, her voice low enough that only he could hear what she whispered. “Don’t. You’ll only give them what they want.”

Harrie hovered in front of James, caught between fury with him, worry for Severus, and the awful, aching knowledge that no matter how many times she tried to shield him, Severus would never believe she wasn’t just another Potter laughing at his expense.

Severus locked eyes with her. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough to see the hurt, embarrassment and loathing in his gaze. She felt her heart plummet to her feet. 

Not wanting to see any more she turned back to James and grabbed his tie, pulling him down to her level “what is wrong with you? Attacking someone two on one? In the halls; in the middle of the day? Are you trying to get expelled? What did he even do to you? Or are you just attacking innocent people now?”

“Come on Harrie, you should have heard him! He’s clearly a Death Eater, spouting off the same shite they all do about blood traitors and Muggleborns!”

“Oh please James, Severus would never be stupid enough to talk like that out in the open, are you sure you didn’t just hear what you wanted to hear?”

While she was arguing with James she heard Severus sweeping out of the hall, his robes snapping at his heels.

“Sev- ” Lily started, but he was already gone.

Harrie stood frozen for a moment, heart pounding. She could still see the look on his face- for her brother, yes, but also for her. Because she’d been there standing between them. To him she was just another Gryffindor who could get away with murder. She made to follow after him. She wanted to explain, defend herself against his obviously incorrect assumptions. 

“Let him go,” Lily sighed, but Harrie shook her head.

“No,” she murmured, already moving.

She didn’t follow him into the dungeons. She knew him better than that. He wouldn’t want to be seen when he was bleeding, when the taste of humiliation was still raw. No, he’d disappear somewhere no one else bothered with. Somewhere quiet, where he could piece himself back together.

And so, a few corridors later, she slipped through the ivy-choked archway into the old courtyard, a forgotten place that didn’t even show up on the Marauders Map- and where Severus Snape stood alone, shoulders tight, blood still on his lip.

He was standing rigid at the fountain’s edge, head bowed, shoulders drawn tight as though he were bracing against an invisible storm.

His lip was still bleeding. He hadn’t even bothered to clean it.

“Severus” Harrie said softly.

He spun, wand already half-raised, but dropped it when he saw her. The fury in his eyes dulled into something sharper, colder. “Come to laugh some more, Potter?”

Her chest clenched. “You know that’s not why I’m here.”

He barked a bitter laugh, turning his back on her. “Of course. The saintly twin. Gryffindor’s golden girl and Quidditch hero. You pity me, don’t you? Poor Severus Snape- the greasy freak- the dark magic loving Snake?”

“That’s not fair.” Her voice cracked. She took a step closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “I don’t pity you. I never laugh when they- ”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut in, whirling on her now, his black eyes blazing. “You’re still his sister. Perfect pureblood princess. And me?” His lip curled, though his voice trembled. “I’m just the half-blood, a nobody from a shitty muggle hovel. The boy everyone is afraid of, and for good reason Potter. I am, after all, a budding death eater.”

Her breath caught. He said it with such venom, such certainty, as though he was already decided.

“You think that’s all you are?” she whispered.

His jaw clenched. “What else could I be? I’m in Slytherin aren’t I?”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with things they didn’t know how to say. She wanted to scream at him, to shake him, to make him see what she saw- how brilliant he was, how fiercely alive when he talked about magic, how the very air seemed to bend toward him when he moved.

Instead, she reached out. Her fingers brushed the sleeve of his robe. “You’re not evil, Severus. You don’t have to follow that path.”

His whole body went rigid at her touch. His dark eyes flickered with something dangerous- longing, disbelief, fear.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he murmured. “You have no idea what I’ve done. What I am capable of. If you did, you wouldn’t be standing in an empty courtyard with me. I’m dangerous Potter, haven’t you heard?”

Her heart stuttered. She wanted to tell him she had, long ago, and didn’t care one bit. She thought he was brilliant and a truly good person despite the stupid decisions he was making. She wanted to help him. Show him a better way. Give him the love and support he deserved. But the words caught in her throat, trapped by fear and hopeless longing.

So she only said, “You’re wrong.”

The silence was unbearable after that. Severus pulled back, tearing his sleeve from her fingers. He shook his head as if trying to clear it, retreating a step into the shadowed courtyard.

No. She wouldn’t let him run. Not anymore. “Our first year, I watched you brew the best calming draught in our year. You glowed when Slughorn told you that you were a natural.”

Severus had stopped walking. His shoulders were stiff, she could tell he was holding his breath, waiting for her to say something awful. He would be disappointed.

“Our second year I saw you hold Lily’s hand and tell her she was the most brilliant witch you knew after Mulciber called her a ‘filthy mudblood’. Our third year, you were up late in the library every night looking up bruise paste recipes and healing salves. Lily told me you wanted to make them for your mother since you couldn’t do any healing spells for her over break. Our fourth year, you sat with a first year Hufflepuff in an alcove and told him a story about dragons because he was terribly homesick and couldn’t sleep. Sure the story was a little frightening and I’m fairly certain you changed the ending so that the dragon ended up winning and killing all of the towns people… but still… Fifth year you spent most of your free time in greenhouse 3 nurturing fanged fairy moss for an experimental potion you were brewing, and I know for a fact that you kept some with no intention of ever using it in a potion. 6th year you intentionally stepped in front of a hex meant for me when Alecto cornered me in the library. Sure you’ve been a right git at times and your tongue is a bloody weapon. But you, Severus Snape, are good.”

Severus hadn’t moved but she knew the back of his neck well enough after studying it all these years to know he was confused. 

“So you see, I know you are a good man Severus. I’ve known it all along. And .. well I- I love you for it.”

The confession hung in the air like Damocles sword. She was certain that he was about to turn around and use that poisoned tongue he had honed over the years to absolutely eviscerate her, mocking her for her deepest, most closely guarded feelings.

That’s why when he turned around and strode towards her she flinched and took a step backward and ended up bumping into the ledge of the fountain. She would have fallen in, if he hadn’t gripped onto her arm at the last moment and pulled, the momentum carrying her into his body with a solid thump.

His lips were parted, breath breaking in uneven pants, like he’d been sprinting for miles- not from danger, but from the feelings he’d spent years fleeing.

“Say it again.”

“I.. I love you.”

“You can’t. You don’t even know I exist.”

“I do. I do know. How could I not? You’re brilliant.”

And then his mouth was on her. His hands cupping her cheeks. The kiss was desperate and beautiful in its intensity. He devoured her as much as kissed her and when they finally parted for air she was gasping as much as he had been, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. 

“But… but you hate me… don’t you?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“No,” he said, and his voice was rough, almost a growl, his hands trembling at his sides. “No, you absolute dunderhead. I have- Merlin, Harrie- I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. And I’ve spent every day since trying not to. Because you’re…” He swallowed hard. “You’re far, far too good for me. I never thought- never even dared hope- that you could possibly feel the same. I thought you didn’t give a damn about me.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching. What… “what?”

“You’re perfect, Harrie.” His voice softened, but the ache in it deepened. “The Princess of Hogwarts. Everyone loves you, but I’m the only one who sees the real you. You’re sarcastic and witty. You read the most ridiculous books, books I’m not sure where you even found. You care about every person you meet until they prove themselves to be unworthy. But me…” He gave a bitter little laugh, eyes dropping to the stones between them. “I’m the boy they hex in the corridors. The one they drag through the mud. I had no idea you even saw me. Not really. Let alone-” He broke off, his chest rising and falling sharply.

Then his eyes found hers again, dark and desperate. “But now that I know…”

He stepped forward, just slightly, as if drawn by something he couldn’t hold back anymore. Their kiss this time was messy, his tongue traced her lips and then dipped inside before retreating again and again. His hands went to her skirt and then slipped under it to grab at her arse.

“Fuck.. I’m no good with words, let me show you Harrie. Let me-“

He hesitated at the waistband of her knickers before she nodded once, heart hammering in her chest. He brought her knickers down and bent to tug them off her, tucking them into the pocket of his robes. He kissed his way up her legs before stopping at the junction of her thighs, burying his nose there. She cried out at the feeling, her fingers instinctively burrowing into his hair. 

He licked and sucked at the lips of her cunt, the hard ridge of his nose grinding perfectly into her clit until she was practically sobbing. When he was satisfied with the state of her he gently turned them so that he could sit on the edge of the fountain, and pulled her to straddle him. He quickly fished out his cock and she balked at the size. 

“Sev, there’s no way that’s going to fit. It’s … wow. That’s. Big. Really big.”

“Hush love, it will fit. You’ll take me at your own pace.”

His big hands guided her to hover over his length and then slowly, so slowly she began to lower herself onto him. She was so slick she was dripping onto him, helping to ease his path as he speared into her. She whimpered with each rock of her hips until finally she had taken him to the hilt. 

His fingers were curled into the skirt at her waist and they were both panting into each other’s necks at the sensation.

“Fuck Harrie, so fucking tight. Merlin your cunt is gripping me like a vice.”

“Sev please, please fuck me.”

A low groan rumbled from his chest as his hands tightened on her hips. With a few testing rolls of his hips Severus soon found a rhythm that suited them both, he was relentless and the passion in his eyes while he ground into her stole her breath away. She let out a broken moan when the thick length of him pressed in particularly deep, striking every tender place inside her at once. He watched her reaction with the same intensity he employed while leaning new magic, and when he saw how successful it was, he repeated the action over and over again. The sensation overwhelmed her, tore the ground out from beneath her, and soon she was moving on her own- bouncing, riding, chasing the fierce, shattering pleasure that only he could give, using his body shamelessly to drive herself higher and higher.

“Come on my cock Harrie. Fuck, need you to come. Now Harrie.”

He reached down and rubbed her clit and it took only a few moments more before they were both coming undone. Harrie could feel the warmth of his spend fill her and begin to leak out, dripping onto his trousers beneath her.

Groaning he slipped out from her heat and moved them so she was laying on the ledge and he was hovering over her. His face was filled with awe and a burning lust, not at all diminished by what they had just done. 

 
He reached his hand between them and swiped his middle finger through their mixed spend and brought it to her lips. She didn’t protest, merely let him slip it in and sealed her lips around the digit while holding his stare. The groan he let out was immensely encouraging as she sucked his finger clean. 

“Fuck, good girl. You’re my good girl aren’t you? Mine?”

She spoke with his finger still resting heavily on her tongue “yes, yours”. Their combined release tasted so perfect, she was reluctant to release him, hoped he would feed her more in fact. 
 

He slipped his finger from her mouth, and in the same breath his hand wrapped around her throat, dragging her up to crash against his lips. He kissed her hungrily, unbothered by the taste of himself on her tongue- in fact, it only made his groan deepen, his need sharpen. His mouth left hers in a trail of heat, pressing down her clothed body, his words muffled against the fabric of her jumper.

“You taste so sweet, Harriet… need more. Need to taste us together.”

Before she could answer, his mouth was on her cunt, his tongue plunging deep into her slick heat. The rawness of it, the taste of her- of them- had him groaning like a man starved, devouring her as though he might never get enough. His hand slid upward, gripping her breast roughly through her clothes, and his forearm locked across her stomach, pinning her writhing body down so she couldn’t escape the relentless press of his tongue.

He licked and sucked their cum from her channel until there was nothing left to taste but more of her slick and then he latched his lips to her clit and sucked hard. The action sent her careening into another orgasm and she screamed his name into the silence of the courtyard.

He leaned up to capture her lips in a sweet kiss once more and muttered a gentle cleaning charm against her lips before fixing his pants, lips still locked to hers.

“I can’t believe we just had sex out in the open, where anyone could have walked in on us! You are a terrible influence Severus!”

“Perhaps, though you may be just as bad as I am, Potter.”

This time when he said her last name, it was full of praise.

Chapter Text

It began on a moonlit hill, with a werewolf’s snarl and a single, accidental touch of skin on skin. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Severus Snape felt the searing mark of fate carve itself into the skin of his right forearm. He had shielded Harriet Potter from the beast without thought, and in doing so had bound himself to her—body, magic, and soul. The Potter Heart curse- as it was now known- had pervaded her bloodline since Ignotus Peverell’s bargain with Death, and now it had chosen him.

A mark had appeared on both of their arms; a moon in eclipse- a dark circle edged with silver, haloing the golden hilt of a sword studded with rubies.

From that moment on he could feel her heart beating alongside his and her emotions seep into his consciousness. He told himself it was another set of chains shackling him to yet another master, a cruel joke the universe had played at his expense. She was reckless, infuriating, and far too young. He resolved to master the curse as he had mastered every other injustice life had dealt him: by refusing to feel it. He occluded constantly, cutting off his emotions from her and dulling the ones she sent him in return.

But feeling her was inescapable. Through the years, her pain bled into him, every gash, scrape and session of self-pleasure he could feel as if it were his own. When she triumphed, he shared her victory with the flood of endorphins rushing through his system, when she required assistance, he provided it by slowing his breathing and focusing on something calming and tranquil until he felt her racing heart and quickened breaths begin to slow to match. He told himself his interventions were self-preservation- preventing her recklessness from killing them both. Yet every time he guided her, whether indirectly through their bond or by teaching her a spell that would help save her life, it became harder to lie. He felt her hunger at the Dursleys, her terror in the graveyard, her stubborn defiance against Umbridge, and somewhere between fury and fear, she had slipped beneath his defenses. By the time the Dark Lord rose to power again, Severus no longer knew where his heartbeat ended and hers began.

It wasn’t until she had disappeared into the wilds- on some insane quest Dumbledore had condemned her to, that he realized how very much he needed her. The bond tied them together, yes, but it was his heart that reached for hers when she was out of his sight. He missed her, Merlin be damned.

He would have been furious with her for how fucking easy it was to find her, if he had not been so relieved to finally see her safe and relatively healthy. He found her outside a small campsite, gathering firewood, her breath fogging in the cold. Snow blanketed the forest, and she stood out starkly against it—dark hair, black coat, a beacon of shadows in a white world.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, letting the truth he had buried under years of anger, prejudice, and fear fill every corner of his being. He could no longer shield himself from it: he was in love with her, and he would follow her to the ends of time, no matter the cost.

He walked silently behind her until she was far enough from camp that their departure would go unheard and then struck, gathering her into his arms and apparating them his chambers in the castle.

It spoke to the years he had spent saving her life that she didn’t immediately pull her wand on him. She had witnessed him killing her mentor in cold blood and yet she stood there calmly assessing him like a mother who was waiting for her wayward child to come clean. It hit him like a bludger. She knew.

She. Knew.

So many times, he had wondered if she had finally discovered that he was the other half of her soul. That it was his heart beating alongside hers. It was him being held under the cruciatus those many times. She may not have been able to feel his emotions, but she knew him anyway.

He needed to know “how long?”

“I knew the moment it happened. But it took me a while to find out what it all meant. Sirius explained a lot.”

He turned away, facing the window, his reflection fractured by the frost. The question clawed at him: had she stayed silent because she hated the bond as much as he once had? Did she still?

Her voice was soft, but it carried straight through him. “I used to wonder why you didn’t say anything. But as I grew older- and people kept trying to kill me- I realized it was just another way you were trying to protect me.”

He turned back, suspicion and hope warring across his face. She took a hesitant step closer, her hand twitching at her side before she stilled it.

“Severus,” she whispered. “You may have thought you were keeping all of your feelings from me- that you’d Occluded away every piece of yourself. But I still felt you. Not all the time, but… enough.”

Her gaze met his, luminous and unflinching, and he felt her emotion wrap around his chest like a vice. Every beat of their shared heart echoed with the weight of what she was about to say.

She drew in a breath that trembled in the quiet and exhaled the words that undid him completely.

“I love you.”

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move- couldn’t. Then the dam inside him broke. He crossed the space between them in a single stride, his hands finding her face, his lips crashing into hers. The connection flared to life through the bond, a rush of heat and wonder and recognition.

He could feel her anticipation as surely as she could feel her fingers tangling in his hair.  He didn’t know how far she would be willing to take this, but he would know for certain when she wanted him to stop.  She wouldn’t have to say a word.  He would feel her hesitation as clearly as if it were his own.

He pressed forward, guiding her back until her knees met the edge of the bed. The world around them seemed to narrow to the space between heartbeats—the steady rhythm of their shared pulse, the faint hitch in her breath. He would never admit to the number of times he had pictured her laying there, naked and writhing on his cock. To see his fantasy finally come to life was intoxicating.

He could feel her exhaustion, the hollow ache of hunger, the lingering chill that had crept into her bones. He wanted to drive it all away—to make her forget the endless running, the fear, the pain. Forget every minute they had been forced to play their parts. He wanted her entire focus on him and him alone. His thumb brushed against her jaw, and sent a silent promise that he was there, that she wasn’t alone.

Her gaze lifted to his, desperate and unguarded, and something in him broke open completely. He dropped his Occlumency shields entirely and embraced the fragile, aching honesty of two people who had survived too much and still somehow found the strength to love each other.  Because yes.  He was ready to admit it, to himself and to her.  He loved her. Fiercely.  And he wanted her to feel it in every way he could manage. 

He pushed her onto the bed and crawled over her, spreading her legs and dipping his hips to settle in the hot cradle of her thighs. Their lips joined once more in a deep and desperate kiss. Teeth clacking and lips bitten. Harriet began frantically attacking the buttons on his coat, fumbling over each one. She couldn’t bear the idea of their lips parting long enough to watch what she was doing, her emotions growing more and more impatient to reach skin.

Suddenly, she slipped her small hand beneath his sleeve, fingers seeking their mark. The moment her fingers connected to it, the bond burst wide open—no longer a quiet undercurrent but a deluge. Every thought, every emotion, every hidden longing surged between them, impossible to contain.

It was too much- too bright, too intense- and yet neither of them could pull away. The flood of sensations became a loop of shared breath and heartbeats until it was impossible to tell whose pulse raced faster. Their twin gasps broke the silence at the same instant, their lips finding each other in a kiss that burned with every unspoken word, every year of denial, every ounce of desperate relief.

Breaking his mouth from hers he gripped her hair in his hand and pulled her face back to look at him. “Potter, remove your hand from my mark and refrain from touching it again, unless you would like to end this before it has even begun.”

“Why?? It feels sooo good” she moaned wantonly but slipped her hand out from under his sleeve.

“I have not masturbated in several years; I was rather reluctant to pass those sensations on to an underage witch, no matter what our bond insisted. As a result, I am… on edge.”

Harrie's eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open in surprise “Merlin, you… you felt me touching myself- for years! Oh- oh Godric… that is mortifying.” She covered her redden face with her hands and embarrassment swamped the lust that had been building between them.

Tugging her hands from her face he forced her to look into his eyes; he pushed his confidence and understanding as well as a bit of impatience through their bond. “It is natural to explore your body and experiment with pleasure at that age.  Do not be embarrassed about learning yourself.”

Studying him closely he felt her emotions start to clear, the spikes of her mortification smoothing back into something more mischievous “I thought about you, you know.  Every time I touched myself, or rubbed against my pillow, I thought about your hands on my skin, your voice in my ear.”

Eyebrow raised and lips folded into a wicked smirk he dipped his head once more, stroking his lips against hers and grinding his hips into her center. “Hmmm, we shall have to explore that further another time.  I am quite interested to discover what outrageous fantasies a mind like yours could conjure.”

Harrie shivered at the low rasp of his voice, a sound that seemed to curl around her like smoke. Sighing into their kiss, her tongue peaked out from between her lips to trace the seam of his. She returned her attention to disrobing him. When she had finally worked his coat and shirt off, her hands slid to his buckle.

He brushed her hands away and sank onto his ankles, his fingers catching the hem of her shirt and drawing it upward, unveiling her skin with languid, reverent patience. He removed her bra with a flick of his fingers and her denims with gentle tugs until finally, finally- after everything he had endured- he had the woman he loved, the other half of his soul, laid bare beneath him.

The sight of her, and the storm of emotion it stirred within Severus, brought tears to Harrie’s eyes. She reached for him, wordlessly pleading for him to press her into his sheets and lose himself in her, until they were one.

He removed his trousers wandlessly and obliged her unspoken demand and his own desperate need.

He started with his mouth, committing every inch of her skin to memory with tongue and teeth. He lathed kisses to the space behind her knees, nibbled on the webbing between her fingers, stroked his tongue along the graceful curve of her neck, until she was shivering with desire and her cunt was dripping her arousal onto the coverlet.

Their desperation was a pendulum swinging back and forth between them, increasing with each undulation. When his mouth moved to her cunt it took only two quick licks to her clit to push her over the edge, gushing into his mouth and sobbing with relief. It was a miracle that he managed to hold back his own orgasm.

He worked his way slowly up her body to her breasts, dedicating his entire focus to each pink nub. Finally, he brought both of her hands up and over her head, careful not to brush her mark with his large hands. His throbbing cock, leaking copious amounts of precum, slid wetly to her untried entrance. “So beautiful Harrie. So very gorgeous.”

“Please, Severus.”

Her sweet pleading was all the encouragement he needed to slowly slide his aching cock into her tight little cunt.  She let out a pained moan but brought her legs up and around his waist, crossing her legs at the ankle and trapping him deep within her.

Nothing- no experience in his life could ever hope to compare to the feeling of Harrie wrapped around him. Her tight wet heat was clenching as tightly around him as the rest of her was. He began thrusting, slowly at first, claiming every inch of her for himself, shuddering at the echo of sensation reverberating back to him. The foreign feeling of being filled making him groan and clench his teeth in a feral snarl.

“Fuck Harrie” heated groans and desperate snarls falling from his tongue, as he buried his head into her neck, feeling the vibrations from her own cries of pleasure there.

It was overwhelming, simultaneously the greatest pleasure and most sensory input he had ever experienced, and his usual iron control had been reduced to animal instinct.

His thrusts became rough and demanding. He leaned back onto his heels and picked her hips up off the bed, leaving only her head and shoulders resting on the mattress.

He began slamming into her, using her cunt viciously, spurred on by her cries for more and the white hot pleasure pouring into him through the bond. She came screaming his name and sinking her nails into his mark, triggering his own release. Every pulse of his cock corresponding with every clench of her cunt, perfectly synchronized in dripping ecstasy.

Severus dropped himself to her side, breathing heavily, basking in the compounded afterglow they were simultaneously experiencing. He felt his thoughts begin to blur at the edges and noticed that Harriet had fallen asleep, exhausted but so brilliantly happy it almost made him smile in turn. Slowly, so as not to wake her, he brought his fingers to the mark adorning her slender forearm. Tracing its lines and admiring its beauty, he whispered into the quiet of the room “you have always been here Harrie. Under my skin. I love you. Merlin help me, but I love you.”

Chapter Text

He knew better. Merlin, he definitely knew better than to touch anything he found in this gods-forsaken hovel he grew up in. But it wasn’t every day you stumbled across a super secret hidden compartment in a super secret neglected room off a super secret forgotten staircase. And Sirius Black was such a sucker for super secret shit.

And now look where that got him: trussed up like a misbehaving crup.

The trouble started the moment he picked up the bloody bracelet tucked inside a marble carving of a beautiful witch sprawled across carved silken sheets. Magic poured over him like a wave of cold water, and when it cleared, he was flat on his back, wrists chained to the headboard of a very dusty bed. A third chain was wrapped around his neck securing him on what seemed to be a leash, the end of which was also attached to the bloody headboard.

At least his wand was still strapped to his thigh. Unfortunately, when he tried to summon it, nothing happened- his magic was gone. The chains must be suppressing it.

He studied them more closely: thin strands of gold, just like the bracelet. They looked delicate, but a few experimental tugs proved otherwise. It was clearly a piece of old Black family jewelry, imbued with the usual enchantments against breakage, tarnishing and a bevy of other clever spells used for a variety of things- mostly nefarious. Typical. Leave it to his ancestors to create magical restraints for their bedroom antics. Honestly, could they not tie their lovers up with silk scarves like normal people?

He couldn’t even try to shift into Padfoot, the chain around his throat was just tight enough that shifting into a form with a thicker neck would likely end up with some very unpleasant repercussions. He was well and truly fucked then.

With a dramatic sigh, Sirius resigned himself to the one course of action he loathed most. It would be unpleasant. It would be humiliating. But there was no other choice. He took a deep breath and bellowed, “KREACHER!”

With a loud pop, the ornery old house-elf appeared in the forgotten room. He glanced around, taking in the dust and gloom- then spotted Sirius. His eyes went wide, his mouth twitched, and he began to wheeze out what could only be interpreted as a laugh. The bleeding little cockroach.

“Quit your croaking and get me out of these things Kreacher!”

“Ha- My- humph- apologies master. Krrcchhh Kreacher will free you-huh- right away.”

Shoulders still shaking with cruel mirth he snapped his fingers. Sirius tried sitting up only to discover he was still bound tightly to the bed. Growling he snapped at the devious little menace “enough games you wretch, get me out of these things, now.”

This time Kreacher’s smirk faltered. He snapped his fingers again. Nothing.

“Kreacher cannot free the master.”

“What do you mean you can’t free me?! If this is a game it’s in very poor taste! Free me now, Kreacher, or I swear to Merlin I’ll invite Hermione over to lecture you on elf rights until your ears fall off.”

No mistaking it- there was a genuine frown on the old elf’s face now. “Kreacher cannot. Kreacher will go get Mistress Harriet.”

“No- NO! Absolutely not her! She can’t see me like this! She’d never let me live it down!”

“It is the only way to get free, Master. Unless you’d like to remain tied to a bed for the rest of your life?”

Another slight frown and Kreacher snapped his fingers again and the dust and debris that had blanketed the long forgotten room vanished without a trace, leaving only clean surfaces and a pleasant smell of lemon polish in the air.

With a curt nod, Kreacher vanished with a pop. Groaning, Sirius let his head thunk against the pillows a few times, muttering every curse word he knew under his breath, silently resolving himself to his fate.

After what felt like forever, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed up the hidden staircase- quick, determined, taking the steps two at a time. His beautiful fiancée burst around the corner, still in her pickup Quidditch robes, hair damp, cheeks flushed, wand clutched so tightly her knuckles were white.

She froze at the sight of him. “Siri? What the hell? Kreacher said you were in trouble- he was smiling when he said it, so I thought you must be bleeding out or something- and you’re just… what? Having a lie-down?”

“Ugh, no.” Sirius winced. “Sorry to worry you, love. I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a tight spot.” He wiggled his wrists, the chains clinking, and lifted his head as far as he could.

“Oh, Merlin,” she muttered, dropping her wand and striding forward. “I thought you were supposed to be renovating the third-floor bathroom today. What on earth dragged you up here?” Climbing on to the bed she began fingering the chains at his wrists, searching for a clasp.

“I was toying with the idea of making a map of the house- like the one of the school,” he said. “This place is a labyrinth, and it’d be nice not to have to send you a patronus every time I need to find you.”

Harriet moved on to the chain at his neck, muttering spells under her breath.

“Don’t bother with magic,” he said quickly. “They’re suppressing enchantments. My ancestors were the worst.”

“I don’t see any kind of release mechanism,” she murmured. “I hate to say it, but we may need to call Bill.”

“No. No. I’d rather die here than have anyone else see me like this.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Harriet sat back on her heels and gave him a flat look. “You are ridiculous.”

Sirius caught the shift in her gaze- the spark of mischief in her eyes and the slow curl of a Cheshire-cat smirk. He eyed her suspiciously, he knew that look, he had perfected that look. Nothing good ever came from it.

Her smirk widened as she tapped one finger against the chain at his throat.

“You know,” she said, voice low and far too pleased, “this is a very different look for you.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late,” Harriet purred, shifting so she loomed just slightly over him. “All those times you’ve had me on my knees- and now look at you. Trussed up, helpless, practically begging for me to have my way with you.”

“Begging?” he scoffed, tugging uselessly at the chains. “I am not begging. This is entrapment. Completely different.”

She tilted her head, grin sharp, fingers tracing along his bicep in a light caress. “Mmhmm. Tied up like a naughty dog on a leash.”

He swallowed, hard, trying for a glare but not quite managing it. “You’re enjoying this far too much, pup.”

“Call it payback,” she said sweetly, leaning down so her lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Question is… are you going to behave, or are you going to make me punish you?”

A shiver lanced down his spine and he growled lowly in his chest. “You’re playing a dangerous game love. Why don’t you keep looking for the clasp and when I’m free, I can take care of those silly ideas of yours.”

She hummed thoughtfully, kissing his neck and nibbling at his ear. “No, no I think I’m going to enjoy this while it lasts.” She ended that statement with a bite to his jaw that drew another growl from his mouth.

“You are desperate for a spanking aren’t you sweetheart?”

She leaned up and swung her leg over to straddle his hips. With a flick of her wand she vanished his clothes, she threw her wand off to the side and began running her hands up and down his chest and abs.

“I don’t know… maybe you’ll end up really liking being all tied up and used.” Her voice dropped lower and she began to grind against his hard cock. “Tell me, how does it feel so far?”

“Like I’m in a bloody sexy nightmare,” he muttered, tugging at the chains again. “A very public nightmare if you call Bill.”

She was grinding in slow easy circles moaning a bit at the friction on her clit. “Oh, I’m not calling Bill. I think I like you like this.” She leaned over him, her hair falling to brush his face. “I am going to thoroughly enjoy this while it lasts.”

He swallowed hard, trying for his usual smirk but failing. “When I get out of this, you won’t be able to sit comfortably for a week.”

“So worth it,” she murmured, leaning down to bite at one of his nipples before sealing her mouth over it and sucking at it with a gentle pull, “mmm, so sweet. Let’s see if I can make you beg for once.” She sat back, eyes bright, her voice firm but low. “Here’s how this works: I’m in charge, you don’t get to come until I give you permission. And you call me ma’am until I decide you’ve earned the right to call me anything else. Understand?”

Sirius blinked at her, breath quickening despite himself. “Merlin, Harriet…”

She tapped the chain at his throat again. “That’s ma’am, love. Try it.”

Sirius’s jaw flexed, defiance sparking in his eyes. Harriet simply waited, one brow arched, her finger lazily stroking the chain at his throat like she had all the time in the world.

Finally, he ground out, “…Yes, ma’am.”

Her smirk deepened. “Good boy” she said while patting him on the head.

He groaned. “You’re going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said sweetly, sliding further down his body until her lips brushed the tip of his cock.

Sirius tried to lift his head to watch what she was doing, but the leash pulled taut, holding him flat. She laughed softly, little puffs of air striking the tip of his cock where she was hovering. He couldn’t see what she was doing so when her mouth enveloped one of his testicles he groaned and twitched his hips up further into her mouth.

“Fuck Harrie,” he groaned, his voice was already rougher, needier.

She started rhythmically sucking at his balls, alternating between them worshipping them until they were both slick with her saliva and he was panting. The cavern of her mouth felt like heaven, but his cock was throbbing and desperately in need of some friction.

He shuddered, fingers flexing uselessly against the chains. “Merlin help me.”

“No,” she corrected, licking a broad stripe across both testicles at once “but I might, if you ask nicely“

His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. For once, Sirius Black was utterly silent- waiting, straining, already surrendering without realizing it.

“Suck my cock Princess.”

He yelped when she bit the inside of his thigh hard. Cooing at him she licked it gently before saying “I said ask nicely Sirius”

“Oh fuck. The things I am going to do to you.”

She moved up to his abs, biting and licking each ridge and valley, nibbling on his Adonis line. Her hair tickled against his cock, driving him insane.

“Fuck, alright you win, suck my cock ma’am”

Glancing up with an unimpressed look on her face she said “oh come now Siri, surely you can do better than that.”

Growling he said “please suck my cock ma’am. Wrap those pretty lips around my prick and take me deep into your throat. Ma’am.”

“Good enough” she said with a little laugh.

She dropped her mouth down to his cock and took him deep on the first go, ripping a long moan from him. He thrust up into her mouth trying to sink even deeper and set the pace he liked best. But Harrie was not done playing pretend apparently. She grabbed his hips and held them down hard, stilling his motions, enabling her to set the pace completely.

Slowly she bobbed up and down on his cock, taking it deeper and deeper on each pass. He began hearing the sound of a dripping wet cunt being fingered and the idea that she was stuffing her little cunt full with her fingers made him groan. “That’s it baby, you love sucking my cock don’t you. It never fails to get that slutty little pussy wet does it?”

Moaning around his cock she began riding her fingers, bringing herself closer to completion. When she felt his balls start to draw up, she popped off his cock and blew cool air over it. “Ah ah Siri, you’re not allowed to come remember? Don’t make me punish you.”

He exhaled shakily. “Fine,” he growled. She smiled brilliantly and rose up to kiss him deeply.

“Good boy” she whispered into his mouth and then retreated before he could try to distract her with his sinful mouth.

Traveling back down to his cock she took him back into her mouth, bringing him back to the brink again, swirling her tongue and swallowing around him, driving him mad. But just before her could lose himself in his release she would back away, kissing and nipping at his chest, his neck, his biceps, until he had calmed enough for her to move back to his cock.

Over and over she teased him, and each time he refused to beg. He was stronger than her. He could hear her playing with her cunt and backing off just before she came as well. She was edging herself right along with him. She would break before he did.

After the sixth time of it, he was done pretending. His eyes flew open, glassy with desperation. His limbs were trembling, he was gasping for air and when she pulled away once more he gasped out sound very close to a sob. “No- please, please let me come. Fuck please baby. Need to come so badly.”

“Please what?”

“Fffuuuckkk, please ma’am. Let me come.”

“Oh Siri, of course you can come. Thank you for asking so nicely,” she cooed sweetly.

Bringing herself up to perch on his lap once more she hovered over his cock, looking into his eyes. “You’re going to come in my cunt Siri. You’re going to fill me up until I am dripping with you.”

And then she slid her- fuck- tight, hot- wet- cunt down his shaft. They both cried out at the feeling of finally being joined. “Oh, this is where you belong Siri. Deep inside me. So good.”

She started bouncing on his cock, her perky tits swaying with her movements, he could finally see her and he couldn’t- wouldn’t take his eyes away from the beautiful sight of her face soaked in pleasure.

It took them barely any time at all to reach their peaks. She slammed down on him at the same time as he thrust up inside her and with a hoarse cry they came. He was positive he had never come so much or so hard in his life. He was just aware enough to feel her clamp down around him crying out his name as she rode her own climax to completion.

She collapsed onto his chest breathing hard, running her fingers through his sweaty hair and kissing any patch of skin she could reach. “Wow” she said breathlessly.

He hummed, nuzzling his head into her hair. She propped her head onto his chest and looked at him. Her face was serious but her eyes danced with mirth “was that so very awful? Not having control for once?”

“Yes.” He said while shaking his head no.

Laughing her eyes flicked to his left wrist, “oh look, here’s the clasp. I hadn’t seen it there before.” Merlin, she was a terrible liar.

With a flick of her fingers the chains dissolved from around him and the bracelet dropped to the pillow looking as innocent as when he first saw it.

Looking back at Harrie, his voice a low dangerous purr “oh love, I have only one thing to say to you now.”

With an eyebrow arched she met his first gaze with mock innocence. “What’s that?”

“Run.”

Chapter Text

Harriet watched him prowling from the enchanted mirror in his quarters at Grimmauld Place. Every room had one, though only the Lord or Lady of the house could activate them for the purpose of spying into other rooms. The Blacks had always been a suspicious and invasive lot.

Remus paced like a caged animal- growling, snarling, snapping at imaginary threats and very real agitation. The war had made specialty potions incredibly scarce, and he’d been without Wolfsbane for over a month. His control, always so precise, was fraying thread by thread. His aggression and primal dominance were far worse than they’d ever been on an ordinary day.

But of course… of course… this was no ordinary day. Remus had shown up at their safehouse growling and snapping at her for disappearing the way they had and demanding to be allowed to accompany them on their mission. It took only minutes for Hermione to realize what was happening. And twice that long to explain it to Harrie and Ron. Remus was going into a rut. Likely triggered by Harrie's presentation at the wedding.

Heat and Rut suppressant potions had vanished from every supply line weeks ago, causing chaos among those unfortunate enough to have secondary genders. Yet another dirty tactic of war Voldemort had come up with.

To make matters worse, her heat was being triggered early because of her proximity to an Alpha in Rut. And not just any Alpha, but her Alpha. Her heart stuttered when she caught Remus’s scent through the wards, a musky, primal scent that made her throat dry and her thoughts scatter. She pressed her palms against the cold mirror, trying to anchor herself against the tide of hormones threatening to drown her resolve.

Grimmauld Place was not equipped to handle a werewolf off his Wolfsbane potion and caught in a rut. If not for the wards Hermione had hastily woven around his door, Remus would have torn the place apart by now. That morning, he’d had just enough clarity to roll his wand under the door, a desperate act to keep himself contained. But since then, his growls had grown wilder, his Alpha instincts taking hold, clawing away the man Harrie knew. She wasn’t sure if the twisting in her chest was fear for him or a dangerous yearning she couldn’t afford to indulge.

The only thing that could truly help him now was a willing Omega to see him through his rut. But potions weren’t the only thing in short supply. With the war raging, the unbonded Omegas who might have helped were all in hiding- it was a dangerous time to be so vulnerable. Even in peacetime, Omegas were highly sought after.

Everyone knew Harriet would do anything to help him- but Remus certainly didn’t feel that way about her. He’d never said as much outright, but since her presentation, he’d been avoiding her completely. Sure, she was on the run and in hiding, but all the Order knew where she was. Even when she’d told him she fancied him, he had just kindly told her he wasn’t interested and moved on as if nothing had happened.

That is, until the night of her birthday- when everything changed.

She had been feverish that day, skin hot and tight, her body humming in strange, unfamiliar ways. Molly had taken one look at her and gently ordered her upstairs to Ron’s room. She’d barely managed to lie down when the door creaked open and Remus stepped inside, his delicious scent flooding her senses.

The concern on his face had melted into something else entirely- shock, horror, and a flash of hunger that stole the air from her lungs. His fists clenched at his sides, as if fighting to hold himself back.

“Omega,” he whispered, pupils dilating rapidly as he gulped down air like he couldn’t get enough. “Smell so good, Omega.”

“Remus?” she whispered, her voice trembling as heat coiled low in her belly. “What’s happening to me?”

He didn’t answer. His body went rigid, every muscle pulled tight as a bowstring. Then he turned and fled, slamming the door behind him. She keened at the loss of him, heart pounding, torn between the sting of his rejection and the unfamiliar ache pulsing through her. What had she done to drive him away?

She hadn’t had time to process what that moment meant- not with the chaos that erupted soon after, forcing them to flee to Grimmauld Place. Later, in the dim safety of the old house, Hermione explained it all: Harriet’s presentation had awakened her Omega traits, and her first heat would soon follow. She’d been lucky that Walburga Black had been an Omega and kept a stock of Heat suppressants in stasis. But like Remus, Harriet had taken the last one the week before- and now she was facing the possibility of her first heat coming at the absolute worst time imaginable.

She watched Remus pace with restless eyes. It was in an Omega’s nature to help their Alphas and provide them the comfort and support they needed to remain strong and capable. Watching him groan in pain went against every one of her instincts.

But she was trying- Merlin was she trying to respect his wishes, knowing that he definitely didn’t want her. No, what could he want with a scrawny, Omega 20 years his junior, and his dead best friend’s daughter to boot. He would just have to suffer through this alone, like he did everything else.

Harrie pressed her hand to her forehead, wishing she could do something, anything to help ease his pain. Remus paced, his movements jagged, a low growl rumbling in his chest as his rut consumed him. Then, with a sudden snarl, he whirled and slammed his fist into the wall, plaster crumbling under the force. Her breath caught as he tore off his belt, hands shaking as he freed his stiff cock- red and leaking- gripping it with rough, desperate strokes. It was raw, almost violent, nothing like the gentle man she loved. Within moments, he shuddered, a guttural growl tearing from his throat as he was coming in thick, heavy spurts against the wall, his snarls echoing in the mirror’s magic.

Harriet knew she shouldn’t watch. Guilt burned in her gut, but her eyes were locked on him, her heart racing with a mix of shame and longing. This wasn’t the Remus she’d grown to love- this was her Alpha, raw and feral, and the sight of him unraveled something deep inside her.

When Remus finally stilled, his chest heaving, Harriet’s cheeks burned, her breath shallow and her knickers soaked through.

As quickly as the outburst had begun, it ended. Remus dropped to his knees, raking trembling hands through his sweat-damp hair. His back bowed, and a sharp, anguished howl tore from his chest, raw and piercing. The sound clawed at Harriet’s heart, guilt and worry twisting her stomach until she felt sick. She pressed her hand hard against the mirror, desperate to reach him, to ease his pain. Then, muffled against the carpet, he moaned something she couldn’t quite catch—her name, maybe, or just her longing twisting his sounds into something impossible.

Remus vanished his clothes entirely in a feat of impressive wandless magic. His erection, jutting from between his thighs looked painful, the tip almost purple. He began wanking again, wrapping his free hand around his testicles and massaging them. He threw his head back moaning loudly and stroking his cock vigorously.

The sounds falling from his lips were absolutely sinful, and this time she was certain that he was in fact moaning her name. Harriet couldn’t help but let out a whimper. Slick was dripping down her thighs, and the urge to reach down and alleviate the throbbing in her cunt was becoming too much to bear.

She shifted her stance, thighs rubbing against each other and whimpered again. Suddenly Remus‘s head snapped towards the door, his nostrils flaring, and a growl emanating from his chest. Letting go of his cock he stalked towards the door and placed both hands on either side of the frame.

His voice came out more a growl than words. “Harriet, I know that’s you. Come to me Omega. Let me fill that little cunt. You smell so good. I know you can hear me. Come here Omega.”

Harriet stilled her writhing in shock. He was more than a floor and several corridors away- how could he possibly smell her from there? She knew Alphas had a preternatural sense of smell to track their mates, but with his lycanthropy layered on top of that… she supposed it was entirely possible he could smell her- probably even hear her- from there.

She pressed her forehead to the mirror, fighting the urge to cry. “I can’t, Remus, I’m sorry. You would regret it, later, when you’re yourself again. I couldn’t stand for you to hate me because I took advantage of you.”

“I wasn’t asking Omega; come here. Now. I can taste the slick running from your cunt. I need you. Don’t you want to help your alpha?”

“Yes, of course I do, but you don’t really want me that way. It’s just your alpha hormones talking.”

Remus is stalking the room again, naked and gorgeous, all lean muscles and scars, her fingers itching to trace each one. “Fuck that, Harrie. It’s not my Alpha instincts. You’re mine. Now. Come. Here. Please.” his voice broke on the word and it was that that made her finally pause to consider it.

If it's just his hormones, or some familiarity thing- something other than Remus himself (clear headed) wanting her then this could ruin their relationship forever.

Without realizing it, her feet had carried her to the door of Remus’s rooms. She could smell him now. His bergamot and wood smoke scent filling her head with cotton, thickening her tongue in her mouth.

“Remus” she whimpered. The door rattles as he starts shaking the handle, desperately trying to get to her.

“Omega. Harrie. Please, please. I need you. I’ll take care of you, love. I swear. Wanted you for so long. Too long. Please Harrie.”

“I’m going to come in there now, but you have to step away from the door. I need you to be calm for me.”

“I’d never hurt you Harrie. My Omega.”

“I know.”

She took a breath and stepped through the door. Her eyes landed on him immediately. He was against the far wall. Hands behind his back, probably attempting to be non-threatening. As soon as the door clicked shut he stiffened.

A muffled growl built in his chest, though it was clear he had tried to swallow it back. He slowly stalked closer, inhaling her scent deeply, lips parted as if trying to sip it from the air. Harrie trembled. Heat flushed her skin, and the first tightening cramps coiled low in her stomach. A small, needy whine escaped before she could stop it.

When he reached her, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and drew in a long breath. His sigh brushed warm across her throat, and his fingers slid into the hair at her nape, a low, contented purr reverberating through his chest.

"If..." he choked out, the purr twisting to a growl- he quickly tempered it, her presence seemed to allow him a semblance of self-control. "I need you to be sure Harrie. Once I have you, I’m not letting you go. If you’re not ready to be mine, you need to leave. Please."

Harrie's arms wound around his middle, soothingly rubbing down the hard planes of his back tracing a jagged scar she found there. "I’m sure Remus. I told, I love you. I’ve only ever wanted to be yours. Let me help you?"

He nodded into the crook of her throat, trembling now with repressed passion. "I love you too, I’m not good enough for you. Not even close. You deserve so much more. But I just can’t. Can’t stay away from you anymore. It’s too hard. I need you too much. 'S why I came here. Couldn't let you go where I can't keep you safe."

His scent strengthened, sending a rush of slick down her thigh. “Shh I’m here now Alpha, let me- let me take care of you.” She pushed him onto the bed, though only because he allowed it. She situated herself on her knees in between his legs and began lapping at his cock.

With a pained cry he buried his hands in her hair and cried out “fuck Omega, please no teasing. I need you too much. Need to come in that gorgeous mouth.” Taking pity on him she enveloped his cock down to the root. She watched his face as it morphed from one of tortured patience to overwhelming pleasure, with just a touch of pride. She set a fast pace, swallowing him to the root every time.

"Fuck, you take my cock so well. So good Omega. Fucking perfect. I’m so close already, fuck." He guided her mouth quicker up and down his cock, the length pulsing against her tongue as he chanted his praise and exclamations of pleasure.

"That's it, Harrie baby. Make your Alpha cum. Yesss, just like that. Don't stop. I'm...oh shit, fuck. I'm going to come. Going to knot that beautiful mouth. I'm going- to-"

He had called himself her Alpha, and Merlin if that did make her almost come, completely untouched. Her eyes stayed on Remus as his knot began to swell, hips fucking up into her mouth as his head tipped back with a shout of her name and his knot locked behind her teeth.

Warmth spilled into her throat, and she greedily swallowed it down- eyes rolling at the taste. They let out a moan in tandem, the heat of Harries throat and the friction of her swallows sending Remus further into a pleasure-soaked oblivion.

When he surfaced from his orgasm his cheeks were flushed, eyes half dazed and chest heaving and his hand cupped her flushed cheek- massaging her jaw gently. “So good for me Omega. You swallowed every drop. My knot will go down in just a few minutes. Are you comfortable?”

His smile was brilliant when she hummed her contentedness. “You’re looking very flushed; I think I may have triggered your Heat love. This will be your first one, yes?”

Humming again she tried to nod her head but being stuck on his knot had limited her range quite significantly. He pet her gently, “it’s alright love, just relax. I’ll take care of you as soon as we separate.”

Gingerly she laid her head on his thigh, his cock nestled safe and snug in her throat. She may have dozed a bit because sooner than she expected his cock slid from her mouth and she gave a gusty sigh of relief at being able to close her jaw.

Remus wasted no time in flipping them over. Now that she was no longer engaged in pleasuring her Alpha, her need had risen exponentially. The cramps in her stomach had her crying out, far beyond being able to form coherent thoughts.

He parted her legs and settled himself between them, the head of his cock slid along her folds, followed by the rest of his impressive length. Carefully he positioned himself at her entrance, tangled his fingers with hers and pushed into her slick heat.

He never released her eyes as he took her, his lids lowered almost reverantly, a soft sigh pushing past his lips as he eased in a little more.

Her walls stretched to accommodate his long, thick cock. A gasp hitched in her throat when he finally bottomed out, his arms shaking as he kissed her for the first time. It was a sweet kiss, far more gentle and loving than she had thought him capable of at the moment.

"Omega...Harrie.." he ground out against her lips. 

He pulled back and thrust into her again so slowly, as if savoring the stretch. Harrie’s toes curled, whines spilling from her open mouth in abandoned attempts of his name as he set a steady pace. Before long she was begging him to go harder, give her more, take her faster. He growled in warning and she settled instantly, mewling in supplication.

Steadily, the warmth in her veins built to a fever pitch, Remus’ slow pace giving her time to appreciate every nuance of the build up and then crescendo of her orgasm. In a shower of sparks and stars she came, thighs trembling and pulling him in as deep as he could go.

Remus didn't even give her time to catch her breath, growling possessively as her pussy clenched around his cock. He leaned back, pushing her knees to her chest and started pounding deeper and harder into her. Finally giving her the rough fucking her Omega had been craving.

"A-Alpha...oh, fuck. Remus!" He growled once more, bowing his head to trace her scent gland with the tip of his tongue. A shudder rolled through her, at the feeling of her Alpha so close to her gland. When he scraped his teeth against it her second orgasm was ripped out of her almost violently.

"Fuck, love. You feel so good. Made for me. My Omega. Mine." 

As he growled out his possession of her, still teasing her scent gland. Her body went nearly slack with pleasure, eyes rolling back at the onslaught of pleasure. It had no end, nor beginning--building, cresting, hardly rolling back before sweeping her out to sea again.  

A final rough thrust and Remus tilted his head back, his jaw going slack with the most sinful moan of her name falling from his open mouth. His knot caught in her cunt, and she felt her channel flood with liquid heat, stuffing her full to the brim with his spend. 

With a sigh he bent to steal a lazy, open-mouthed kiss before rolling them both over effortlessly, holding her to his chest protectively. Harriet’s heat was just beginning, a slow burn pulsing through her, and in that moment, she was fiercely grateful to be trapped in Grimmauld Place with her Alpha. Maybe next time, he’d claim her fully with a bite, binding them forever.

As their breathing slowed, the hum of the house’s wards seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat, a reminder of the fragile safety they’d carved out amidst the war. Harriet traced the scars on Remus’s chest, her mind drifting to the chaos that waited for them outside. The horcrux hunt loomed, and at some point she would need to face Voldemort in battle, but here, in his arms, she felt a flicker of hope. Whatever came next, they’d face it together.

Chapter Text

This was easily the most insane thing she had ever done. Riding a dragon? An unexpected convenience. Going back in time to save herself from a hundred dementors? Just good sense. Meeting Snape beneath the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower while class was in session to fuck? Absolutely mental. 

But Harrie had never backed down from a challenge no matter how daunting it seemed at first glance. And things mostly always worked out. So here she was shifting foot to foot with anxious energy waiting for Snape to show up. 

Overhead she could hear Professor Sinistra going on about Saturn’s 23rd moon, which was news to Harrie. She was absolute pants at Astronomy. Saturn could have 274 moons for all she knew.

A soft, barely there noise drew her attention to the stairwell and there he was, highlighted in moonlight. He brought his finger to his lips slowly, as if she was dim enough to shout out “hiya Snape, glad you could come, fancy a fuck” with a class full of her peers directly above them.

He smirked at the incredulous look on her face and prowled forward, his black robes whispering around him- shadow and darkness made flesh. When he reached her, he wasted no time. His hands found her, dragging her close for a scorching kiss. He caught her lower lip between his crooked teeth, a low sound escaping her as his fingers traced up and down her thighs, just beneath the hem of her skirt.

Without warning, he spun her to face the wall, pressing her into the cool stone with the weight of his body. His hands slid up her waist, circling breasts groping them hungrily.

“My what a little slut you are Potter. Would you like to alert all of your classmates what you are up to down here, in the dark, with your greasy old professor?” His mouth was pressed to her ear as he whispered, the tip of his tongue catching it every so often.

Shivering at the thought she pressed her hips back into the obvious bulge she felt pressed against her arse.

“Hmmmm, does it turn you on to know that anyone could walk down and see you practically begging for my cock?” His fingers plucked at her nipples beneath her bra, sending waves of heat directly to her cunt. 

“Snape, please… touch me,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the plea.

“I am touching you, Potter,” he drawled into her ear, the faintest smirk curling his lips. “But I hesitate to go any further—your wanton little moans would likely alert everyone above us. Perhaps we should abandon this endeavor altogether. You seem…incapable of even this small task.”

One of his hands had traveled down her body and was running up the inside of her thigh but had paused just before it reached the slick folds of her bare cunt. 

“I can be quiet I swear. Please, Snape!”

“Hmmm I suppose there’s only one way to find out isn’t there? Perhaps we should test your theory? Shall I make you come on my fingers?”

He groaned into her neck when his questing fingers finally reached her sex and realized that she had forgone knickers. “You filthy slut, you came straight here from dinner. Did you sit at your house table with a bare cunt where anyone could see? Are you that desperate for attention Potter?”

Harrie had to bury her moan into her arm as Snape’s talented, slender fingers began circling her clit with perfect strokes. He brought her to the precipice of orgasm with the same talent he displayed in potion making. The sounds of students overhead discussing star charts and dragging telescopes around, thankfully muffled the gasp she let out when she came, gushing all over his hand. 

“Salazar’s sake Potter, you’re so desperate to come that you couldn’t even wait for me to get my fingers inside you. What shall we do with such a needy little cunt hmmm?”

Harriet had her forehead pressed into her arms, she was a panting, trembling mess, but the only thing she wanted in that moment was for him to “fuck me, please.”

Snape pulled her hips away from the wall, bending her at the waist and forcing her to arch her back and balance her weight on her arms. 

She heard the rustle of his clothes being shifted and felt the hot silk of his cock brush against the inside of her thigh, leaving a sticky trail of precum behind. 

He draped himself over her back, arms braced at her waist, hands circling her thighs forcing them to remain open. “Yes, I think I will. What a good little whore, making herself available for her professor’s use. I suppose I should not be surprised that you’re forsaking your education in favor of having your cunt stuffed full of come.”

Merlin, this was hot enough without the Snape commentary, but with him whispering such filth in her ears she knew she was going to come again as soon as he pushed inside of her. Unable to help it she bucked her hips back into his, unintentionally aligning her opening with the blunt head of his cock. 

They both groaned at the new sensation, and it seemed his patience had finally worn thin because suddenly Snape was ramming the full length of his cock into her.

Hissing at the sudden stretch Harriet clawed at the wall supporting her. The burn was so delicious, she would never get used to it. He set a careful rhythm, their clothes dulling the sound of his hips meeting her arse. Snape bit at her neck, sucking bruises into the skin there, ensuring that no matter how much she put herself back together after this, everyone would know what she had been doing in the shadows of the Astronomy tower.

One of his hands ran up her thighs and began palming at her arse, his thumb pressing against the tight hole he found there. Whispering a charm, he slid his slick thumb inside her and began pumping it in the same rhythm as his hips. The tide of her orgasm became a tsunami. A constant litany of whines and soft whimpers leaving her lips and were buried into her arms.

Snape was quickly losing his rhythm and had begun chanting her name in that sinful way of his, right into her ear. With twin gasps they crested their waves of pleasure together, each one seeing stars.

Once they had calmed enough to stand on their own Snape slid from her cunt and gave her rump a gentle pat. Tucking himself away and using a spell to set himself back to rights he whispered “Good girl Potter.”

With a wicked smirk he turned away, back towards the stairs and with quiet murmur over his shoulder he said, “10 points from Gryffindor for skipping class.” 

Chapter Text

The water trembled along with the twitching in his muscles. Each jump and spasm creating waves with Draco at the epicenter.

Even now, a few hours after the last curse had ended, the tremors still came- jolts of lightning and fire racing beneath his skin. The cruciatus curse was truly the gift that kept on giving.

Candlelight flickered around the bath, throwing soft, shivering shadows up the marble walls casting halos in the steam that filled the room. He couldn’t abide by anything brighter than just a few candles and his bath remained unscented. His head felt as if it would split open and any more stimulation might be the crack that caused it to burst.

When Draco closed his eyes, the nightmare of his reality played behind his lids. Red light, a high voice, his mother’s tear stained face and shrieks of pain, and Voldemort’s laughter cutting like shards of glass. Every time, he tried occlude the memory to the back of his mind, but his body refused to forget. The pain and suffering lingered.

Father said loyalty to the Dark Lord would give them power. That obedience would keep them safe. 'And where has that led us?' Draco thought bitterly. 'Where are we now, Father?'

His ribs still throbbed where the curse had caught him. He had been held under the Dark Lord’s crucio for 20 minutes off and on- the only respite coming when he turned his wand on the rest of his family.

His hands floated just beneath the surface of the water, pale and trembling. The heat of bath was slowly beginning to unwind his muscles.

Sweat was beading on his forehead, dripping down the slopes of his neck, making trails down the plains of his lean chest. His pale hair darkened, and damp clung to the sides of his face. He leaned his head against the cool rim of the tub. The sound of his own breathing filled the room. The faint drip of a leaking tap and the soft hiss of candles sent his mind into a meditative state.

It was then, when his mind was most vulnerable, that she attacked. Not physically, not even mentally really, she had no knowledge of this war she had been waging in his mind and she never would.

Harrie Potter, the infuriating witch, plagued his thoughts. Too brash, too certain, too convinced that she could fix everything with a bit of courage and that ridiculous smile.

He told himself it wasn’t admiration. It couldn’t be. You don’t admire someone who never seems to notice you unless you’re in her way. You don’t think about the way her hair seems to have magic of its own, or how her voice shakes when she’s furious but she still won’t back down. You don’t- Merlin, you don’t- look for her in a crowd just to be sure she’s still alive and safe.

It wasn’t love. Love was for fools. Love made you weak, and hadn’t he had enough of weakness?

She was a distraction. A symbol, maybe- something bright and untouchable that had shown him another way to live, a way that was completely unattainable for him. He could despise her for that, couldn’t he? He should.

And yet-

Every time he tried to summon hatred, what came instead was this ache, quiet and steady, sitting behind his ribs. He would fight to push her behind his shields, only for her to blast her way through them in the quiet moments- like this one.

She had no place here in this house of horrors, yet she came to him all the same. His mind conjured an image of her as she had been the last time he saw her just a handful of hours ago in his dining room- streaked with dirt and blood, his wand gripped in her hand, eyes bright with something he couldn’t name. When her gaze had caught his, it hadn’t been victory he’d seen there. It had been… sorrow. Pity maybe.

He would rather she’d struck him down.

He would rather she’d hated him properly.

Instead, she had looked through him, as if she saw the boy beneath his choices, the trembling prisoner chained to his father’s legacy. That memory clung tighter than the pain.

He lifted his arm from the water and studied the Dark Mark. His thumb brushed over it, expecting it to burn, to remind him who he belonged to. But there was nothing — only the faint pulse of his heartbeat beneath the skin. He wanted to curse at it, rage against the situation he had found himself in, had willingly placed himself in. There were silencing charms built into all of the rooms at Malfoy Manor but you never knew how the Dark Lord's paranoia would manifest, he had to assume nothing he said was private so he held his tongue and allowed his arm to fall back into the water.

The water rippled when he shifted. The candlelight reflected off its surface, casting his reflection into shadow. He stared at it- at the face he barely recognized.

He wondered if she ever thought of him.

Would she remember the boy who sneered and flaunted his wealth? The coward who stood silent while others were hurt, even killed? Or did he fight through her judgments the way she did his?

The flashes came again: a dark tower lit by moonlight and a man bargaining for his life, a wet bathroom and green eyes flashing at him through the mirror, blood on white tile and sobs of fear and regret.

He’d thought this bath might wash the echoes away. Instead, it left him naked in their company.

The quiet around him swelled, thick and heavy. Pain lanced through him anew. His body tensed and jerked and then went slack again. His heartbeat sounded too loud, his breathing echoing throughout the room. And through it all, the thought of her lingered- Harriet, fierce and defiant, hopefully somewhere safe with people who cared for her.

She didn’t belong here.

And yet, he could not keep her out.

Maybe she was a punishment.

Maybe this longing was retribution for all of his past wrong doings. He’s gotten everything he’s ever wanted. But he will never have the one thing he thinks he may need.

He whispered it before he could stop himself.

“Harriet.”

She had been here.

In this house.

And he had done nothing.

He let the thought slice through him again and again, a deliberate wound. It was easier to feel the pain of his failures than the hollow ache of unfulfilled longing.

When he closed his eyes, he tried to recall the sharp lance of fear as she knelt before him, face swollen, unrecognizable but for the trademark look of defiance in her green eyes. He tried to call forward the pain that was the reward for letting her get away.

But inevitably the scene morphed… polished wood floors shifted to cool white tile, the shrill voice of Aunt Bella softened into the calming drip of the faucet of the first floor bathroom. His breathing picks up to match the pattern of his specter’s in the memory.

His mind carried him into the moment, but his body remained grounded- the pain keeping him anchored to the warm water and his trembling limbs.

As she had in reality, Harrie appeared from no where in that forsaken bathroom eyes blazing and sharp tongue lashing.

"Malfoy"

He froze.  Her voice had cut through his efforts to regather his sanity and ease his clawing panic over yet another failure.

He looked up and met her eyes in the mirror, noted her half raised wand and sneered "What do you want Potter. You have a terrible habit of always being where you shouldn't, you know."

He turned then and leaned against the sink, affecting an air of relaxed predator. "One day its going to get you killed."

"What are you up to Malfoy? You look like shite, and I just caught you having a panic attack in the loo."

"Why? You think you can help me?" he asked, voice dead, empty of its usual derision. "Theres nothing here to save, Potter. I've got no soul left to salvage."

And this- this is where his mind diverges from the path of reality.

In his mind he stalks closer to the hurricane trapped in a tiny girl's body. He bends a considerable distance to whisper in her ear "if you really want to help- help me get away from myself before I ruin what's left."

He turned his head and like the snake he revered, struck out, his lips capturing hers in a harsh kiss. He devoured her, all reason had fled. It was only her lips on his, her gasp of shock and helpless moans of startled arousal.

Back in his body, his cock was beginning to fill, reacting to Harrie's beautiful submission. The lingering pain only adding to the burning sweetness of his desire. He didn't even try to resist. Taking himself in hand, he began stroking slowly to bring his cock to full mast. If this was the only pleasure he was allowed, then he would take his time, make it last and enjoy it to the very last drop.

Returning to his fantasy he allowed himself to submerge in the violent lust building in his gut. She had always managed to sink under his skin and wreak havoc on his perfectly practiced poise. Now was no different. She broke her lips from his, pushing him away and swiping at her lips.

"What do you think you're doing Malfoy? What do you want from me? You need to stop. Just stop whatever it is you're doing before it destroys you!"

He wanted to tell her it already had. That every night felt like drowning. That there were marks on his arm he couldn’t scrub away no matter how hard he tried.

But the words tangled somewhere behind his teeth, and what came out instead was "What I want is to fuck you. To lose myself in you. To finally give your mouth something to do other than disrespect me and my family. My whole life is fucked Potter, but I think I could find god between those thighs of yours. "

He had stalked her to the back of the room, her back was pressed against the sinks, she was gripping the porcelain with white knuckles. He could see her pulse fluttering in her neck and based on the quickness of her breath; he could tell he was having an effect on her. What kind of effect remained to be seen.

"Maybe I'll become a better person, just by fucking the Chosen One. Tell me Potter, is your pussy made of gold too?"

The growl she let out was adorable and he couldn't hide the amused smirk it brought to his lips. He knew Potter better than anyone. He knew how to push her buttons. How to make her react.

"Fuck you, Malfoy"

Laughing darkly he responded "I'm trying. Come on, help me Potter."

Pushing off the sink she attacked him with all the brashness he had expected from her. She kissed him with no real skill or experience, but it was absolutely charming in its innocence.

In the comfort of his bathtub his free hand had begun massaging his testicles. His head tilted back against the edge of the tub and his teeth had tugged his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle his groans of pleasure.

Harry began tearing at his button down, ripping seams and straining buttons. Growling, Draco grabbed her wrists and spun her to face the sinks, bringing both hands behind her and using a sticking charm to secure them to her lower back. He pushed her forward until her hips were at the perfect angle and flipped her skirt up taking in the delectable view of pure white knickers and a pert, round arse.

"Fuck Potter, I'm going to ruin you. I need to feel your pussy wrapped around me. Now."

It was a shame to ruin such a sweet pair of knickers but he had no patience to waste in taking them off so he grabbed the sides and pulled. The tearing of fabric was drowned out by her sudden gasp. Meeting her eyes in the mirror he was immolated by the heat of lust he found there.

"Don't you dare take your eyes off that mirror, Potter. I want you to watch while you let me fuck you."

He ran the tip of his cock up and down her slick folds, the heat he found there had him growling "so wet for me. Can't wait for me to violate you, can you?"

Fuck. He was too close to coming already. The heat of his bath was so close to the heat he imagined her cunt would be, the slickness of the water surrounding him making the slide of his hand too easy. He pulled his testicles away from his body and squeezed the base of his cock. Waiting until he felt the telltale tightening in his gut fade before he began to stroke once more.

Harrie let out a moan that rivaled the cheapest of Knockturn Alley whores and arched her back deeper, all but begging for his cock. When he slid home he gasped at how fucking tight she was. Merlin she was like a vice, gripping and sucking in his cock with perfect pressure. He began to slam his hips into hers. Making her cry out as her hips rammed into the edge of the sink. Her arse turned such a lovely shade of pink from the slapping of his hips against it, but he wanted them red. He turned his gaze to her face in the mirror and gave her a devilish grin right before he cracked his hand against her arse cheek hard enough to leave a perfect impression of his hand.

Fuck. More. He needed more. He began pumping into her like an animal, growls and snarls clawing their way from his chest. Hips slamming into her hard enough to make the mirror in front of them tremble from the impact. “Merlin Potter, You feel so good inside” he groaned. He slid his hands up her sides to cup handfuls of her hanging breasts, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. Abandoning one of her tits he brought his hand back down to her warm arse cheeks and spanked it with renewed fervor. Every outward draw of his hips he would land a swat, causing her cunt to clench in pain, making the next pump in deliciously tight- hot- wet.

His hand was flying over his cock now, precum lost to the bath water, sweat sliding down his neck in streams. He could no longer hold back his groans, he only hoped he wouldn't shout her name when he finally allowed himself to come.

Spanking Harriet Potter while watching tears form in her gorgeous green eyes was a fucking revelation. She was so bloody beautiful, it took his breath away. Her mouth hung open and her moans and cries of pleasure were near constant. But it wasn't enough. He wanted to undo her. He wanted to watch her unravel on his cock and be reborn with his name on her lips. He moved his free hand to her clit and pinched. He watched as her eyes rolled back into her head and she came, screaming on his cock.

His name had never sounded so fucking good.

Draco wasn't going to last much longer. There was only one last thing he needed from her. "Look at me Potter."

It took a moment for her to come down from her bliss induced haze but she finally met his eyes in the mirror once more. "Tell me Potter, once and for all. Tell me why you followed me into this bathroom today. You could have waited until after class, or any of the other dozen times you see me in a day. Why did you wait until now?"

The flush on her cheeks deepened, he could tell what was about to come out of her mouth was going to be a lie, so he spanked her hard and dragged her head back by her hair. "Come now Potter, don't lie to me when I'm balls deep in your sweet little cunt. Just tell me." He shifted his hips, so he was fucking right into her sweet spot, making her knees tremble and her cunt flutter around him. She was close, he just needed one more push "I'll give you anything you ask for, just fucking admit it."

Groaning in ecstasy and defeat she said "I wanted this. I wanted you to fuck me, please, please Draco, I'm so close."

"Good girl, thank you for telling me Potter." He pinched her clit one last time, and with the imagined feeling of her cunt milking him in orgasm, he spilled his seed into the water of his bath. His hips pumping and sloshing water over the sides until finally, finally he was able to relax.

Sighing in exhaustion his head rolled to the side, glancing at the candles burned down to the wick, he knew he needed to take himself to bed. Passing out in the tub may kill him and release him from this hellscape, but he wasn't selfish enough to leave his mother here alone. Besides, he held out hope that someday, he may have the chance to see Potter win this war, if anyone could do it, it would be her.

He imagined her somewhere far from this place, walking through sunlight, shoulders straight, eyes still bright. He imagined her hearing his voice carried faintly through the dark — and for one heartbeat, he almost believed she might turn her head, might pause, might remember him not as an enemy, but as something that could have been saved.

The pain returned then, rippling through his limbs. He didn’t fight it. He let it come, let the ache move through him until tears he hadn’t meant to shed slid down his face and into the water.

For a moment, the pain softened. The candles burned out. And in the smallest, most secret corner of his heart, Draco Malfoy decided that she could have his everything, she was after all, the reason he stayed alive. His own beacon of hope.

Chapter Text

The seaside town of Dunwich is small, quiet, and hauntingly beautiful—a place of crumbling ruins, salt spray, and ghosts. Muggles think the town’s decline is due to the closing of an old shipping yard, but wizarding records show something else: a pattern of disappearances. The most recent was a young Muggle woman, last seen near the shoreline at dusk.

Snape had been working undercover for months using Polyjuice, posing as a local chemist living in town, while Harriet was visiting the town under the pretense of routine Auror surveillance. She was meant to receive his update that night at a local pub.

The Sirens’ Rest was quiet for a Friday night. The scent of salt and smoke hung heavy in the air, and outside, waves battered the shore with a dull, rhythmic thunder. The rain hadn’t stopped in three days. It came down in curtains, slicking the cobblestones outside until the entire street looked drowned.

Harriet sat alone in the back booth, hood drawn low, the pint in front of her untouched. The amber light of the oil lamps flickered across the brass of her cloak, the only thing about her that drew attention.

She was supposed to be patient- Aurors were trained for that- but Snape was already half an hour late. She was beginning to think he wouldn’t come. She convinced herself to wait another half hour, perhaps it was the storm that had kept him. A storm always followed that man, in one way or another.

She drummed her fingers against the rim of her glass, scanning the other patrons- fishermen, drunkards and, curiously, a hag nursing a drink that looked... chunky. Gross.

Everyone minded their own business.

The door creaked open, letting in a gust of sea air and a figure cut sharp against the rain. Tall, coat collar high, silver hair catching the lamplight like a blade. He paused just inside the threshold, scanning the room with a smile that looked like it had broken hearts in half the pubs in Britain.

Every conversation stuttered, then started again- softer now, uncertain.

Harriet felt more than saw, his gaze land on her, it was a weight that couldn't be dismissed, and so, against her better judgement she lifted her head and let the light catch her face. She met the newcomers gaze head on, and for a moment the world narrowed to that look. Something in his eyes shimmered, subtle as the shift of heat above fire. He moved toward her with the easy grace of a man who knew he’d already been invited.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, voice smooth as silk; it had a musical quality to it, something that drew in the senses and made him impossible to ignore.

She didn’t answer right away. Up close, his eyes were molten silver- a shade that wasn’t quite human. His presence was… magnetic. The air itself felt perfumed, and heat began thrumming faintly under her skin.

“You look like you’ve been waiting a long time,” he said. “For someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“I’m meeting someone, he's just running late.” she managed.

He smiled, slow and knowing. “And yet here I am instead. Perhaps we can say you were waiting for me?” Her pulse stuttered at his smile, and she felt her lips curve in an answering grin. Her body swayed towards his before she could fully grasp what she was doing, betraying her better judgement.

"What- what is going on. Who are you?" She muttered still smiling stupidly at the beautiful, charming, perfect man in front of her. His eyes were so... and he smelled... and oh his skin looked... perfect.

He chuckled, and the sound slid beneath her skin making her shiver in delight. “No need to be worried, Auror Potter. I will take such good care of you.”

Her pulse skipped. “What? I'm fine. More than fine. I need to.. go. I think?” She looked to him as if he could provide all the answers. Somewhere deep in her mind she knew what was happening. It wasn't like being imperioused. She couldn’t feel the line of his will brusing against hers. This was something else. Her needs were her own and what she needed was him.

“Hmmm, yes we can go.” He leaned forward letting his sweet breath waft over her face, his eyes digging into hers with intense focus. “You should relax. You’re far from home. It’s safer to have company. Lets get out of here together, yeah?”

The air shimmered faintly around him. She found herself nodding along, fumbling to stand since her eyes had refused to leave his divine face. Her hind brain was now screaming at her. She knew these symptoms, had seen them first hand 4th year at the World Cup.

Veela.

Her mind screamed the word, but her body refused to react to the danger her mind had recognized. The space between them might as well have disappeared; he reached his hand out for hers, and she felt the pull like gravity. She had never met a male veela, the closest he had ever even been to a full-blooded one was at Bill and Fleur's wedding and that had been a woman- Fleur's mother. She understood now why all the men in the vicinity had gone barmy. This was intoxicating.

“Come darling,” he murmured, “I know just the place we can go to be alone.”

She tried closing her eyes to shut out at least some of the veela's lure, willing her traitorous hand to let go of his-

“Enough.”

The word cracked through the air like a hex.

The Veela flinched, his allure flickering, giving Harrie the respite she needed to rip her hand out of his. Snape stood in the doorway, drenched from the rain, wand out, his expression murderous.

“Step away from her, now” his face may have belied his intentions but his voice (which truly put the Veela’s to shame) was all smooth notes and velvet layers.

The Veela hissed, voice losing its musical quality. “You’ve no right to interfere, we were just getting to know each other, weren't we darling?”

He turned back to Harrie, attempting to swamp her in his allure, but she had eyes only for Snape. It was as if his very presence was a shield, protecting her from the creature’s magic.

Turning his back on Snape proved to be his undoing. The stunner hit him in the back of the head with a bit more force than strictly necessary, sending him toppling into the table face first. With a quick flick of his wrists the Veela was bound and hovering just off the floor. The lamps guttered from the flux of such potent magic.

Harriet sucked in a breath, clutching the edge of the table. The allure haze receded entirely from her body and mind and left in its wake mortification and awe. Snape was at her side in an instant, one hand on her back to steady her.

“Forgive my tardiness. I trust my arrival was advantageous to you?” he said, voice low but not unkind.

“Yes, just in time really. I think we found our culprit- slimy git.” she muttered, embarrassed and growing more irate by the minute- the urge to kick the unconcious man growing with it.

Snape studied her for a moment, eyes searching her face. "Veela magic is… persuasive. I am certain you would have been able to fight him off eventually, but in this case, I am simply releived to have captured this vile piece of filth before he could do more harm."

She looked up at him then, truly looked- at the water dripping from his hair, the tired set of his shoulders, the fierce light still in his eyes. “You always come through when I need you,” she said quietly. “Always.”

A pause. The sound of the sea filled the silence.

Her face grew warm under his silent scrutiny. She’d worked so hard to keep her feelings buried, but every time he saved her, the walls cracked a little more. It was becoming impossible not to tell him- how much she admired him, how much she cared.

He was her Prince in black wool; maybe not the knight that every girl dreams will appear to save the day, but to Harrie, he was a literal wet dream. And Merlin help her, she wanted to show him just how grateful she was.

She turned quickly, sure that her feelings were written plainly on her face. “I need to uh… wash my hands. They probably smell like Veela. I’ll be right back.” She strode -too quickly- to the small hall way that presumably led to an even smaller wash room.

She closed the door and leaned against it as soon as she entered the dingy little room. She let her head thud against the wood with a solid thunk.

The current of embarrassment from almost being kidnapped by a sodding male Veela, like some sort of lovesick fool, was still running through her veins, making her skin prickle.

The door pushed open against her back, jolting her. She spun, wand already raised. Her heart tripped over itself when Snape stepped through and shut the door firmly behind him, trapping them both in the narrow washroom.

“Snape? Where’s the prisoner?”

“I sent him via Portkey to a holding cell at the Ministry,” he said, voice low and unhurried. “I’m sure someone will find him there… eventually.”

Her palms were beginning to sweat, but wiping them now would be a dead giveaway. So would avoiding his eye so she should definitely stop looking at his left shoulder.

“Potter,” he said softly, “look at me. Please.”

Her eyes are wrenched to his, and what she found there made the breath catch in her lungs. His eyes, usually so guarded and cold were lit up with emotion. She could see hope in the tilt of his lips. Desire in the furrow of his brow and the emotion in his eyes… well she was going to need him to confirm that one at some point. She’d had enough humiliation for one day- no need to add assuming Severus Snape was in love with her to the list.

She opened her mouth to thank him again, hoping desperately that it that might keep her stupid mouth from saying what she really felt- like always.

But before she could utter a sound, Sape closed the distance between them. For a moment neither moved; they were staring into each others eyes, both trying to divine the truth from the other.

His hand found her waist- hesitant but so warm- and the touch snapped whatever fragile restraint had kept them apart. She rose into him, and pressed her lips into his.

All hesitation vanished the moment her lips met his. His hand tightened at her waist, pulling her hard against him. The movement was certain, controlled- exactly what she’d imagined and never dared to hope for.

His other hand slid into her hair, thumb brushing her jaw to tip her face up, and the kiss deepened.

It was too much- too close, too long coming. There were clothes, air, everything in the way. She began to frantically pull at his belt while Snape began unbuttoning her trousers. Years of pretending, of keeping quiet, crashed through her at once. She was done hiding. She wanted him. Now.

Snape growled into their kiss as he felt her reach into his pants and grab his cock in a firm grip. She only managed two firm pumps before he was turning them to pin her into the door. He pressed her waist into the wood with firm hands, wordlessly commanding her to stay put while he knelt to the ground.

He grabbed her foot and placed it on his knee, quickly unlacing the boot and working it off, leaving the sock where it was. He then reached up and began working her trousers and knickers over the swell of her hips, kissing every inch of skin he revealed along the way. When he reached her ankle he drew one leg of her pant off, leaving the other bunched around her boot.

He rose then, back to his full height running his hand softly from her ankle up the back of her calf to the meat of her thigh which he lifted to hitch around his waist. Capturing her face between his hands her drew her in again for a desperate kiss. Harriet couldn’t stop her hands from groping every place she could reach, starting with his broad shoulders and running down the corded muscles of his back, all the way to his firm arse.

Clutching him to her tighter, she began to grind her soaked center over his cock. Desperate for some friction against her throbbing clit. Grabbing her hips once more he held her still, leaning back to look in her eyes. He hitched her leg higher, slotted his cock to her opening and then pushed.

He filled her completely, inch by inch. Her head fell to the door once more, and as she was stretched to her limits, she let out a long moan of his name. Using her grip on his arse she pulled him into her, helping him to sink his cock into her to the root. Once he was fully seated, he waited only a breath before pounding into her once, twice and again, setting a brutal rhythm as she felt his firm arse flex beneath her palms.

He caught her mouth again, the kiss rough and searching. The world shrank to heat and movement, the sharp knock of her back against the door and the sound of their gasping breath tangled together.

Years of wanting each other was collapsing into a singular moment of desperate need. There was no gentleness left, only recognition, relief, and the unspoken truth that this had been waiting for far too long.

The sound of her cries echoed in the small room, spilling out into the hallway behind them, but neither one cared, so focused on finding their bliss within the other. When she finally came, she gripped his hair and pressed her forehead to his, staring into his eyes, she let him see just how good he had made her feel, just how grateful she was that he was the one making her feel that way. He only lasted two more thrusts before he spilled inside her, crying out her name in awe.

It wasn’t until they had spelled themselves clean and corrected their clothing that Harriet got up the nerve to turn to Severus “There’s probably going to be a ton of paperwork to do when we get back to the Ministry, but maybe after, you’d like to grab a drink? Or maybe we should avoid pubs for a while… dinner? I can cook! Or we could just go for a walk? Or-“

“Harriet, yes. What ever you want to do, I will do it so long as it’s with you. Now we have work to do, I’ll not let your laziness reflect poorly on my efforts.”

With a grunt of indignation she followed him out of the wash room, and back into the rain slicked streets of the quiet little town.

Chapter Text

Harriet lay against Sirius’s chest, tucked beneath his chin, her body still trembling from exhaustion and exertion. His arms were wrapped around her like he meant to tuck her under his ribs and wrap her directly around his heart. One hand rubbed slow, steady circles up and down her naked back, the other combing out the many tangles from her wild hair. Every now and then he murmured something low against her temple- words she couldn’t quite hear through her exhaustion but felt down to her bones nonetheless.

“There you go, love. Just breathe. You did so well for us. We're so proud of you.”

She gave a small, tired hum, burrowing closer until her face pressed against his throat. He smelled like cigarette smoke and sweat and the faintest trace of peppermint from the tea he’d had earlier. His heartbeat was slow, strong, grounding.

His thumb brushed over the welts covering the back of her thighs causing her to twitch, and for a moment his usual confidence faltered. “Too much?” he murmured, pressing his lips against her temple.

Harriet shook her head weakly. “No. It was perfect. You were both perfect” she murmured into his chest, the words coming out muffled and sleepy.

“Good,” he said softly, then kissed the top of her head. “Then you rest while Moony and I take care of you.”

Across the room, Remus moved with his usual calm precision- “daddy mode,” as Sirius liked to call it. He’d vanished into the adjoining bathroom a few minutes earlier and returned with a glass of water, a damp cloth, and a small jar of healing balm. Like Sirius he was still naked, his expression soft but focused. His wand hovered over her wrists, murmuring a cooling charm followed by the balm to soothe the burn from where the ropes of the breeding bench had rubbed them raw.

Then, with aching gentleness he ran the cool cloth over her aching backside, careful not to put any pressure on the inflamed skin. It felt divine and she couldn’t help but let out a muted groan of pleasure. When he was finished he tossed the cloth into the laundry basket and moved to the other side of the bed so he could better see her face.

Sitting on the side of the bed Remus handed her the glass, “Drink. You’ll feel better once you’ve got some water in you.” He reached over and brushed the hair from her face as Sirius helped to prop her up.

She obeyed without thinking, hands trembling slightly as Sirius steadied the glass for her. The water was cool and clean; it helped to clear the haze five orgasms had soaked her mind in.

“Good girl,” Sirius whispered against her hair, voice rough with something that sounded like pride. When she finished, she handed the glass back to Remus while Sirius licked away the drop of water that had clung to her lower lip. Unable to resist the temptation of her sweet lips, he kissed her deeply, pulling back after only a few moments. He smiled faintly, eyes still on her. “We’ve worn her right out, Moony,” he said quietly. “Look how docile she is now.”

Remus gave him a small, knowing look- the kind of look shared between men who’d lived together, bled together, and now found peace in sweeter things together. He shifted then, crawling over Sirius and capturing Harrie's lips in a kiss of his own. It was sweeter than Sirius' kiss, but far more sensual. His mustache tickled her nose, which never failed to bring a smile to her lips. Pulling back, he pecked her once on the lips and again on the nose before continuing his climb over their prone forms.

Coming to rest behind Harriet, he molded himself to her back, wrapping his arms around the two most important people in his life. Cooing in sympathy when Harriet's breath hitched at the friction on her sore backside he whispered in her ear, "I'll put the balm on in a few hours, but I think you should keep the reminders of our evening just a bit longer. Do you think you can handle that sweetheart?"

Sirius nodded in agreement at his words, still stroking Harriet’s back. Harriet gave him a sleepy, crooked smile over her shoulder. “You fuss too much Moony, I don't need any salve for those. I want to feel it all week.”

Sirius gave a quiet laugh, his chest rumbling under her cheek, she could feel Remus's chest expand from his silent sigh, of contentment or exasperation, she wasn't sure. "We'll see how you feel in the morning darling. For now, just rest. Do you need anything else?"

"Just to say thank you. Tonight was just how I imagined it would be. I wish I could be done with school already, so I never have to leave you. I hate missing you."

"We hate missing you too, pup.” Sirius turned to Moony with a grin that was equal parts hopeful and shameless. “Maybe we can sneak her back here a few weekends during term? Just to make it easier on her?”

"Absolutely not Pads. It's far too dangerous for her to leave the safety of the castle and the more often she does, the more at risk she will be. I'm sorry darling, we will both miss you terribly- with our entire hearts- but you need to remain at school, where you're safe."

Harriet released a gusty sigh. She understood of course, but since she had started sleeping with her godfather and her father's best friend last summer, every time she was away from them, she ached, as if part of her was missing. The release they were able to give her by taking control during their scenes was invaluable. What they gave her went beyond comfort; it grounded her, quieted the chaos that so often surrounded her. When she submitted to them, she could finally let go. She was not used to, nor did she appreciate, delayed gratification.

Remus summoned the covers from the foot of the bed and allowed it to drape over all three of them. Harriet shifted, curling closer to Sirius’s chest, her breathing finally slowing. She shifted her thigh to rest around Sirius' waist and Remus curled his leg under hers, keeping her firmly tucked into his warmth, his arm coming around both her and Sirius- he placed a gentle apologetic kiss to the nape of her neck.

For a long time, no one spoke. The only sounds were the faint pop of the fire and the slow, shared rhythm of their breathing.

"I'll always be your little doll, won't I? Even when I am away at school. Even when I graduate and move back here? I won't ever have to let you go, will I?"

“Never, sweetheart,” Sirius murmured. “You will always be ours, just like we will always be yours.”

And Remus, with that small, tired smile that always reached his eyes, added quietly, “No matter what.”

"I love you both." They both smiled and whispered their love into her skin in return. She felt loved and cherished in a way that she never had, wrapped in her lovers' arms. The burn on her bottom from their scene and the tingling in her limbs from her many releases sung to her in a lullaby of sensations.

The night wrapped around them like the blanket- heavy, warm, and safe.

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the amber flicker of the fire in the grate and the soft glow of fairy lights draped along the mantel. Wind brushed faintly against the windowpanes- a soft, private rhythm against the deep quiet of the house.

The snow kept falling outside, but inside the room was nothing but warmth.

Chapter Text

The storm had been raging since dusk- thunder singing over the turrets, rain slamming the windows like fists. Hogwarts felt half-sentient in the dark, the few torches that were lit cast the corridors in a dull glow of flickering gold, making even the shadows come to life.

Harriet ran. Her boots pounded against the flagstones, each step chased by anothers- those echos were heavier, measured... closing in.

A spell scorched past her shoulder, splintering against the edge of a pillar. She flinched and ducked into the next corridor, pressing herself against the cold stone as the air still buzzed from the magic.

“Hiding already, Potter?”

His voice rolled down the hall- smooth, controlled, terrifyingly calm.

She swallowed hard and forced her breathing to remain quiet and even. Her wand hand trembled with adrenaline.

Another step. Another. He was closer now. She could hear the soft brush of his robes, the scrape of a boot heel- he was toying with her, the bastard. He was more than capable of absolute silence when hunting his prey. He wanted her to know just how close he was.

She darted across the hall, slipped into a narrow stairwell, and took the steps two at a time. She hit the landing at a run, a vague idea of headding towards the Gryffindor common room forming in her mind. She only made it as far as the 3rd floor when suddenly the air shifted, black smoke streaked from around the corner in front of her, the shape coalescing into the form of a man- tall, proud and magnetic.

Severus Snape.

He stood at the base of the stairs, cloaked in the black robes and mask of a Death Eater, but she would recognize him anywhere. The lightning from the window behind him threw his form into silhouette. The mask gleamed as if charmed to glow- which considering the peacocks who used to wear them, was probably true.

This should not excite her as much as it did. Merlin, she knew that. But... there he was in all his dark glory looking like sin incarnate and....

He raised his wand and spoke in that voice that he used to silence a classroom in mere moments. “Surrender.”

“Make me.”

She flicked her wrist, and a flare of red light seared the air between them. He deflected it easily, and sent a counterspell snapping like a whip. The duel began again- spells ricocheting, flames and sparks lighting the stairwell.

Harriet threw up a quick fog spell meant to conceal her movements then turned and ran. The chase twisted further through the castle- up staircases, through secret passageways, beneath the arches where she used to spend so much time as a child. Every time she thought she’d lost him, his voice echoed from the dark.

“Pathetic, Potter.”

“And you call yourself a Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts? Perhaps you should rethink your career path.”

“Really? Are you even trying? Or maybe...you want me to catch you?”

A curse whizzed over her shoulder, ruffling her hair and permiating the air with the smell ozone. She stumbled catching herself on a wall, heart racing, she turned and raced into the closest classroom, slamming the door behind her. She bent down behind one of the student’s desks in the cluttered classroom- Flitwick's she thinks, if she had kept track of where she was well enough.

For a moment, silence. Just her breath and the rain.

Then- the slow creak of a door.

He was here.

Harriet gritted her teeth, shifted her grip on her wand. Footsteps, as quiet as a whisper, drawing closer, closer. When he rounded the corner, she didn’t hesitate- she cast.

The stunning spell hit true this time, a blast of light that knocked him back half a step- but it barely slowed him. His magic was too powerful, rippling through the air, heavy and unyielding. He retaliated instantly, faster than she could blink, sending a cutting curse slicing toward her. She twisted aside, the spell missing by inches, but the edge of it caught her shoulder, tearing through her robes, the weight of them dragging the fabric across her chest as she stumbled.

She started levitating desks at him, dodging stunners and body binds as she grew increasingly more frantic. Not a single thing she hurled his way found it's mark. He cut through each spell or blasted every desk aside with the effortless precision of a master toying with a student.

Fuck this. She was done running from him.

She turned to face him fully, Flitwick’s desk the only thing separating them. Neither of them moved. Neither breathed. The air between them trembled with tension, as they waited for the other to strike first.

Thinking fast, she sent a wandless summoning charm toward the back of the room. The door burst open with a sharp crack, and Snape’s head snapped toward the sound. Harriet didn’t hesitate- she pressed the advantage, hurling a cutting curse straight at his stomach.

She wished she could’ve seen the surprise on his face when he twisted away just in time- but the sharp grunt that followed, when the edge of the spell caught his arm, was satisfying enough.

The thrill only distracted her for a heartbeat- long enough. She didn’t notice that Snape had turned his fall to his advantage, using the momentum to crash into Flitwick’s desk. The heavy piece of furniture skidded backward with brutal speed, slamming into her midsection and sending her sprawling.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs and her wand flew from her grip. She hit the ground hard, rolled, came up gasping- and froze.

He was there. Wand only inches from her face.

He loomed above her, robes swirling, breath heavy beneath the mask. Lightning flashed again, and for an instant she saw her own refection in its gleaming surface. She had a defiant smile on her face, her eyes were bright and glowing, her skin was flushed from the exertion- she looked alive.

She’d spent years fighting, struggling just to make it to the next day, the next challenge, but this was different. This was a duel she’d asked for, one that demanded she match him step for step, thought for thought. She knew he would never take it easy on her- Snape was never one to pull his punches. But she didn't want easy; sometimes, what she wanted, what she really needed, was the adrenaline that came from surviving. It wasn’t safety she craved- it was what remained when everything else was stripped away. The very essence of life.

She glanced down towards his wand and caught sight of his wounded forearm. The sleeve was cut from elbow to wrist, rivulets of blood seeped from a thin cut in the fold of his arm. She followed the drips of blood down his arm. Down the roped muscle and pale skin. Over the ridges of scars and down further still, until they ran down the place that captured her attention most.

The Dark Mark gleamed wetly in the light.

He knew how much that mark affected her. Knew the kinds of things she felt when she looked at it on others and conversely, what she felt when she looked at it on him. A lance of heat flew straight to her cunt and a warmth bloomed in her belly. "Well, well. All that bravado and now look where you are. Beneath my wand and at my mercy."

"You can shove your mercy Snape. You don't scare me."

He placed the tip of his wand just under her chin and tilted her head back "Defiance does look lovely on you. It is a pity I will have to break you of it."

Snape’s low, silken voice hissed a spell, and Harriet’s wrists snapped to either side of her head, the drawer handles of the desk transfiguring into cold, unyielding cuffs that pinned her in place. She thrashed, her boots lashing out at his ankles, forcing him to sidestep with a sneer. “Tut tut, Potter,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “you still pretend to fight when we both know how wet that little cunt of yours is for me. The Golden Girl can't wait to service Death Eater cock." His dark eyes glinted beneath his mask as they raked over her, and a flush crept up her neck, her pulse hammering with lust and anticipation.

"I think I'll pass. Thanks for the offer though. Might I suggest you go fuck yourself instead?"

His long fingers moved to his belt, the clink of the buckle and the slow, deliberate rasp of his zipper- each tooth catching with agonizing precision, sent a shiver racing down her spine. She squirmed against the cuffs, the metal biting into her wrists, but the spark in her eyes betrayed a thrill she couldn’t quite hide. Snape stepped closer, his shadow looming, and seized a fistful of her hair, tilting her head back to meet his gaze once more. "You will service me Potter and if you do a good job, I’ll think about letting you go. Do mind the teeth."

Taking his cock in hand, he traced the tip of his sizeable arousal across Harriet’s lips, smearing precum into them. Glaring defiantly at him, she pressed her lips shut tightly in a stubborn line. He breathed out a wicked chuckle and clutched her chin in one hand, his other traced her bunched lips briefly, before his fingers pinched her nose closed, cutting off her air. Her gaze widened, a flicker of something- fear, thrill, or both- swimming in her eyes, but her jaw remained set, unyielding. She jerked her legs, aiming a kick at his shins, but with a lazy flick of his wand, he bound her feet to the floor. Trapped and dizzy, her chest heaved, the need for air warring with her resolve.

Finally, her lips parted in a desperate gasp, and Snape seized the moment, thrusting himself into her mouth with a controlled, forceful motion. The desk creaked as he set a relentless rhythm, her head thunking against the wood with every thrust. The room filled with the raw sounds of her gasped breaths, choked gags and his low growls of pleasure and praise. Her face was flushed, her fingers twitching not just in struggle but with longing, she wanted to touch him, to bring him to his knees in retaliation. “Sloppy work, Potter,” Snape growled, his voice a low, taunting purr. “Stick out your tongue, lick my balls while I shove my fat cock down your throat.” Her eyes flashed, a mix of annoyance and something softer- more eager, a spark of pride that always came when he challenged her.

Snape’s fingers clamped over Harriet’s nose again, cutting off her air as he thrust deep into her throat. Her head swam, lightheadedness creeping in, and her throat tightened reflexively, a desperate swallow to clear her airway. A low, guttural groan escaped him, his dark eyes glinting behind the mask as her throat convulsed around his cock. “That’s it, Potter,” he purred, his voice a velvet blade. “Such a talented mouth. Perhaps you’re not entirely useless after all.”

As her vision blurred, eyes threatening to roll back, he released her nose, letting her gulp desperate lungfuls of air. His hand slid to her hair, stroking it with a mockery of tenderness, as if soothing a favored pet, while his arousal rested heavy on her tongue. He tilted her chin, forcing her tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. Through the haze, she got the distinct impression that he was smiling at her efforts to regain her breath.

“Come now, Potter,” he taunted, his voice low and mocking. “We’ve scarcely begun. Surely the Golden Girl isn’t faltering already?” He rocked his hips slowly, petting her tongue with his cock, savoring her reaction. "I will say this, your mouth is far more enjoyable when engaged this way." With that, he thrust deep once more, continuing his brutal rhythm, gripping the hair at the back of her skull and treating her throat as he would her cunt, fucking into it mercilessly.

Saliva glistened on Harriet’s chin, dripping down to her chest, staining her tattered robes. Her body thrummed with heat, her core aching with a need she could barely conceal. Snape groaned, a low, primal sound, as he pulled her closer, burying himself fully in her throat, her nose buried in his pubis. “Be a good girl, Potter,” he rasped, his voice a dangerous promise. “Swallow every drop, and I’ll fuck that sweet little cunt like we both know you want me to. Spill even one, and I’ll take your arse instead.”

Two more thrusts, and he unraveled, a growl tearing from his throat as he spilled into her, pulling out until the tip rested on her plush bottom lip and painted her tongue with his seed. He eased back slightly, his dark eyes locked on hers, watching as he wiped the tip of his cock off on her lip. “Swallow,” he commanded, his hand cupping her chin to seal her mouth. Her eyes, still fierce despite how utterly wrecked she was, flashed with defiance. With a deliberate tilt of her head, she opened her mouth and let a bead of his release fall from her tongue, trailing down her breasts in a brazen act of rebellion. A spark of thrill flickered in her gaze, her lips twitching with a suppressed smirk.

Snape’s growl rumbled low, his lust fraying his control. “Brat” he snarled, yanking her upright with a flick of his wand to dissolve the sticking charms and release her wrists. “A brat who begs to be brought to heel.” He spun her around, pressing her face-first against the desk, parchment crinkling beneath her cheek, a quill digging into her skin. “I hope you've gotten me wet enough, Potter,” he murmured, his voice a taunting caress, “because this is all the lubrication you’ll be getting.” With a whispered spell, her ruined clothes vanished, and he aligned himself with her arse, pressing into her with deliberate, unyielding force. When he was fully seated, his breath ragged, he leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. “So tight, so perfect for me,” he purred, his words laced with dark satisfaction as her body trembled—not just from the intensity, but from her eager surrender to their game.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The tension between them was electric, coiling through the air like a living thing.

He panted against her neck, breath hot on her ear, brushing over her sweaty collarbone. Everything was hot- her own skin, the feel of him between her legs, the wool of his cloak against her back- he surrounded her with fire, and she wanted to burn alive.

Then his hips snapped forward, a relentless thrust that buried him deep in her tight rear, the stretch a sharp, exquisite burn that sent a jolt of filthy pleasure racing through her. She moaned, unrestrained, her body yielding to his rhythm as he claimed her with brutal intensity. The sensation was overwhelming, a deep, pulsing fullness that shifted to a hollow ache each time he withdrew, only to reignite with every forceful return. His belt slapped against her bare thigh, a rhythmic counterpoint to her gasps, harmonizing with the symphony of her submission. He braced his hands against the desk, placing his mark in direct view of her eyes. She was desperate to touch it. She wanted to worship him, to lathe her tongue around it, sucking and licking until she’d claimed every inch of it for herself. 

"Tell me,” he said on a heavy breath, his pace against her arse driving her hips forward into the desk. “Tell me how much you love my cock in your arse.” 

Her mind was a haze of sensation, each thrust sending sparks up her spine, the slow drag of his retreat leaving her chasing him, whining at the loss, moaning as he surged back. The pressure built, a delicious mix of sting and heat, her passage clenching around him, amplifying every movement.

When she didn’t answer, he sank his teeth into her neck, the sharp sting drawing a yelp that melted into a sobbed, “I love it! I love it!” Her hips rocked freely now, knees splayed, grinding against his clothed form as she chased her own release, her arousal slick against her thighs. The friction of his thrusts, the tight, intimate grip of her body around him, sent waves of pleasure/pain coursing through her. 

"Are you going to cum with my cock in your arse Potter? What would the world think of you now? Bent over and drooling while a death eater reams your tight little arsehole?" Lifting himself off her back he positioned his hands on her shoulders and began pulling her body back to meet each of his thrusts. "Such. A. Filthy. Slut"

The words, paired with the relentless pressure in her rear, sent her spiraling. His fingers found her clit, stroking with expert precision, stoking the flames until her body clenched, her orgasm crashing through her in shuddering waves. The contractions gripped him tightly, amplifying the burn of his presence, and she sobbed from the overstimulation as he continued, merciless, drawing out her pleasure. "Perhaps I should show them. I think you would get on your knees and beg me for my cock in front of the Ministry itself, wouldn't you, slut?"

"Yes! Yes! Anything you want, just please!" Her blood was boiling in her veins, lust was clawing at her throat, she needed his come. She needed it more than her next breath.

"Please what? Use your words, Potter."

"Puh- puhleasssse, Snape! Need your come!"

“Greedy little thing,” he snarled, his fingers still teasing her clit, pushing her toward another peak. “Have I not given you enough? You want more of my seed, filling your filthy hole? So be it.”

His rhythm grew erratic, thrusts deepening as he buried himself in her clenching heat. With a guttural groan, he spilled inside her, the warmth flooding her passage, a slick, intimate sensation that triggered her own release. Her body convulsed, a second orgasm tearing through her with a shriek, the overstimulation blurring the line between consciousness and oblivion. Her muscles twitching and her breath coming in pants she collapsed onto the surface of the desk in a boneless heap.

Snape leaned over her, his forehead resting against her sweat-dampened back, his softened length slipping free, leaving a lingering warmth and a tender ache. He stepped back and palmed her arse, spreading her cheeks and watching as his seed dripped from her well used and gaping hole. Using his finger to spread the leaking flid around her rim he hummed before dipping his finger inside, stuffing it back into her warmth.

He straightened, tucking himself back into his trousers, then turned to his fiancée, lifting her gently into his arms and wrapping her in his cloak. His dark eyes, softened now, scanned her with concern. “Did you enjoy yourself, my love?”

"Oh yeah," she said with a lazy smile on her face, lifting her hands and removing the mask from his face. His hair was sweat slicked and stuck to his forehead and there was a flush sitting high on his cheeks. He looked just as wrecked as she did, she thought smugly.

Only a moment later her brow furrowed slightly in a frown "Though I do feel a little bad about the location. You don't think Flitwick will notice do you?"

Snape turned back to face the rest of the room, taking in the destruction of nearly every surface- the sconces hanging crookedly on the wall, debris from the ruined desks littering the floor and the blood and bodily fluid pooled on the surface of the Professor's polished desk. "No" he said with conviction.

Pulling his wand from his sleeve, Severus swung it dramatically and muttered "reparo" and they both watched as all the evidence of their tryst was erased from the room.

Sighing and placing her head back on his chest she muttered sleepily "I love magic."

Chapter Text

Harrie had always been a magnet for trouble, but ever since she and Fred had started dating, trouble had taken on a whole new, delightfully chaotic meaning. The war was over, Voldemort was a moldering pile of dust, and Harrie- now a curse-breaker for Gringotts- was all about living on the edge. A life full of danger had primed her for becoming an adrenaline junkie in her adulthood and Fred, with his mischievous grin and endless supply of pranks, was a glorious enabler. Early on in their relationship- while still at Hogwarts, he had introduced her to the concept of free use.

He was dominant in the best way- taking charge with that cocky Weasley confidence, pinning her down, whispering filthy commands that made her knees weak. Harriet loved it; she craved the way he manhandled her, turning every stolen moment into a battle of wills she was happy to lose. It started simple enough. They were lounging in the Gryffindor common room late one night during their sixth and seventh year; Fred had yanked her onto his lap, his hands sliding up her thighs under her skirt. “Free use means I get what I want, when I want,” he’d explained silkily, nipping her ear. Harriet had arched against him, already wet, and whispered, “Sounds exciting.” From then on, they were insatiable- hands groping in corridors, quickies in the most ludicrous of places, always with Fred leading the charge, his strong grip carrying her off to the most unexpected places.

Their escapades were legendary, at least to them- and sometimes others- on the rare occasion they were caught in the act. Take the Forbidden Forest, during a Hogsmead weekend, Fred had shoved Harriet against a gnarled tree, his fingers digging into her hips as he hiked up her robes. “Quiet, love,” he’d teased, his voice rough, as he thrust into her from behind. The rustle of leaves and the sound of students wandering the path into town added to the rush, her moans muffled against the bark. “Bloody hell, Fred- someone could see,” she’d gasped, but that only made him thrust harder, his hand clamping over her mouth. They finished in a frenzy, laughing breathlessly as they strolled out of the woods hand in hand, plucking out the bark and twigs that had caught in her hair.

It became a game to Fred, finding the most outrageous places to make her come undone. He loved the way Harriet’s eyes widened with a mix of panic and excitement whenever he whispered some new, ridiculous plan. The Great Hall fiasco was a prime example. Mid-feast, as Hermione droned on about goblin wars, Fred shot her a wicked grin and vanished under the table with her Invisibility Cloak. Harriet, who’d long since stopped wearing knickers- Fred had a habit of vanishing them and continuously replacing them was starting to earn her odd looks at Gladrags- felt her breath hitch as his hands found her thighs. Her legs parted under his firm grip, and before she could brace herself, his tongue dove into her cunt, hot and relentless, with no warning at all. She gripped her fork so tight her knuckles went white, and pretended with all her might, to listen to Hermione’s lecture, all while Fred devoured her like a starving man. “Don’t you dare come yet,” he’d whispered up at her, his fingers joining the assault. Ron had eyed her oddly, “You alright Mate? You look like you're about to blow your top.”. George, in on the joke, had nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. Harriet bit her lip bloody, exploding silently just as dessert was served.

Post-war, the wizarding world became their smutty sandbox. In Gringotts, during a vault run, the new self-driven cart rattled down the tracks at breakneck speeds, “On your knees,” Fred commanded, unzipping his trousers. Harriet obeyed, sucking him deep into her mouth while the wind whipped her hair. The jolts made it messy- sloppy and urgent- until they reached her vault where he finished in her throat as she knelt next to the piles of gold.

The Ministry was even riskier. Harriet’s check ins with the Minister often overlapped with Fred’s “deliveries.” On one such occasion Kingsley was called away on urgent business so, naturally, they took advantage of the prime location. He pinned her to the desk, robes shoved aside. “Spread for me,” he demanded, his fingers teasing her clit until she begged. He took her rough, desk papers scattering, his free hand in her hair pulling her head back. “That’s it, take it,” he groaned, pounding into her until she shattered, her cries echoing off the walls. They barely righted themselves before Kingsley’s aide knocked, coming to let them know Kingsley wouldn't be able to rejoin them and they were free to take their leave.

Quidditch matches were prime territory. At the World Cup, amid the chaos, Fred dragged her onto his lap. High up, with the crowds eyes glued to the brooms blurring below, he thrust into her from his seat. “So fucking tight,” he growled into her ear, slamming into her from beneath. The crowd’s roars masked her gasped groans, the exhibitionism making her cunt clench in fear and excitement. “Anyone could look over,” she panted, but Fred just laughed, urging her hips to roll, causing his cock to nudge against her sensitive spot. “Let ’em watch while I take care of my witch.”

Once, they even used sticking charms to anchor themselves to the giant head adorning the twin's shop. Fred pressed her down, "on all fours, love", he ordered and then proceeded to take her from behind while she screamed in pleasure. Each time the hat would raise a clever dissilusionment charm would mask their presence but did nothing to muffle the sounds. The people below in the alley looking everywhere for the cat in heat and what was obviously a very sick dog.

It wasn't always crazy locations and daring exposure. Most of the time, in fact, it was in the comfort of their shared flat, in every room, on every surface. “Here?” Harriet laughed, heart racing, Fred groaned and bit at her neck, pressing her into the washing machine she had insisted on purchasing (she was not washing clothes in the bloody sink like his mother did, thank you very much) his body trapping hers tightly to the gently vibrating appliance. “Right fucking here,” he growled when he felt her pressing back into him, hiking her skirt and yanking down her knickers. His fingers plunged inside her without preamble, curling to hit that spot that made her whimper. “You’re soaked already, aren’t you? Dirty girl.” Fred spun her around, lifted her onto the machine, and entered her in one deep thrust. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned, setting a brutal pace, one hand on the machine by her hip, the other pinching her nipple through her shirt. Harriet locked her ankles behind his back, rolling her hips to meet him thrust for thrust, the slap of skin echoing softly. The vibration of the machine and Fred's filthy whispers in her ear had her shattering around him in no time.

Through it all, their relationship thrived on laughter and love. Fred’s pranks kept things light- once, he’d spiked their butterbeer with a Lust Potion prototype that backfired hilariously, turning them both into giggling messes in the middle of Hermione and Ron's bi-weekly game night. Harriet’s bravery matched his mischief; keeping each other constantly on their toes.

By far, their most frequented spot was the broom cupboard at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Tucked behind the Skiving Snackboxes, it was cramped, dusty, and perfect for quickies. On a bustling afternoon, the shop hummed with kids oohing over fireworks. Fred spotted Harriet browsing, her tight jeans hugging her arse, and that was it. He grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward the back. “Cupboard. Now,” he said, voice low and commanding. Harriet’s pulse spiked- she loved when he got bossy.

He shoved her inside, door slamming, Muffliato Charm up in seconds. The space was tiny, brooms poked their sides, shelves dug into backs. Fred didn’t waste time, pinning her against the wall with his body, his mouth claiming hers in a bruising kiss. His tongue invaded, hands roaming possessively- squeezing her breasts, tweaking nipples until she gasped. “Strip,” he ordered, stepping back just enough.

Harriet complied, shimmying out of her jeans and knickers, her shirt following. Fred watched, eyes dark with hunger, palming himself through his trousers. “On your knees first,” he said, unzipping. She dropped, taking him in her mouth eagerly, swirling her tongue around the head. Fred groaned, threading fingers in her messy black hair, guiding her deeper. “That’s it, suck me like you mean it love.” He thrust gently at first, then harder, hitting the back of her throat until tears pricked her eyes. “Good girl,” he praised, pulling out of her mouth with a pop.

He hauled her up, spinning her to face the wall. “Bend over,” he commanded, kicking her legs apart. Harriet braced on a shelf, ass out, shivering in anticipation. Fred teased her entrance with his tip, rubbing against her slick folds. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Fred- fuck me,” she whimpered, pushing back.

He chuckled and petted her hair teasingly "such a needy girl, my witch" and then slammed home in one go. Harriet cried out, the stretch delicious. He set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping, one hand on her hip for leverage, the other snaking around to rub her clit in tight circles. “So tight, so wet for me,” he growled, leaning over to bite her shoulder. The shelves rattled- boxes falling and brooms knocking into the walls- as he pounded into her, each thrust hitting deep, making her see stars.

Harriet’s moans grew louder, muffled by her arm. “Harder,” she demanded, but Fred slapped her ass lightly. “Not yet.” He slowed torturously, grinding slow and deep, then sped up again, building her to the edge. His free hand pinched her nipple, rolling it until she arched. “Come on my cock,” he ordered, fingers flicking her clit faster.

She shattered, walls pulsing around him, a gush of wetness coating them both. Fred followed with a groan, thrusting erratically as he spilled inside her, hot and deep. They slumped together, panting, bodies slick with sweat.

“Fuck, that was good,” Fred murmured, kissing her neck.

Harriet laughed weakly. “You’re a menace.”

"Yes, but I'm your menace" he said with his most winning grin, redressing quickly, and attempting not to get distracted while watching her do the same. "We'd better get back out there; George will be hacked off that I've disappeared for so long in the middle of the back-to-school rush."

"Ah, so then this would be a bad time to tell you that I'm pregnant then. Okay, I'll wait till you get home. See you later!" He didn't even let her get two steps away before he pulled her back into his arms and crashed his mouth into hers. Picking her up and spinning her around he shouted "Holy Shite, Potter! A baby? Truly!? You're not going anywhere!"

Bursting from the room Fred leapt up onto the closest countertop and shouted to the room full of witches and wizards "I'm going to be a dad! That witch right there is carrying our baby! That I helped to make, probably in that very cupboard!" Harriet flushed bright red and made a poor attempt to smooth down her freshly fucked hair.

As the room erupted into applause and George grabbed Fred up into a Scottish reel, Harriet couldn't help but laugh in delight. She wouldn’t trade this for anything; with Fred, life was wild, wicked, and wonderfully wanton. Their story was far from over- more cupboards, more crazy places awaited. But for now, in the afterglow of their latest mischief, they were content. After all, in a world of magic, why not make a little more?

Chapter Text

The Hogwarts Quidditch pitch pulsed with raw energy under the November sky, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of impending rain. Harrie, back for her eighth year, strode onto the pitch gripping her Firebolt tightly, her body thrumming with the familiar adrenaline of the game. It was surreal being back here after everything that had happened, and she couldn't help but feel that this was her reward- a normal year at school, with a normal game of quidditch. Across the field, Draco, mounted his broom, his grey eyes locking onto hers with a predatory gleam. The war had forged them into adults, stripping away childish pretenses, but their schoolyard rivalry remained- though perhaps taken a bit less seriously now than it once had been.

The Gryffindor v. Slytherin match was certainly far less contentious now; the war had quite done away with the old grudges held between the two houses. Harrie beamed at her teammates as she mounted her broom, the wind whipping her hair from her braid as she rose into the air. The stadium roared to life around her; scarlet and emerald banners snapped in the wind and rain threatened to break above them. Accross from her, Draco’s smirk was sharper than ever, his lean frame cutting through the breeze. He flew in close to Harrie shouting over the wind to be heard "ready to eat my dust, Potter?"

Harrie grinned back. "In your dreams, Malfoy"

Though there was far less animosity between them these days, Draco still felt it was his duty to humble the Golden Girl every so often. Just to remind her that she was, in fact, still human. Wouldn't want the Saviour floating away with that big head of hers. He’d planned it meticulously. In the shadows of the equipment shed, his wand had danced over Harriet’s broom, infusing it with a modified Tremulus Perpetua- a constant, insidious vibration that would build relentlessly, designed not just to distract, but to overwhelm. For good measure, he’d layered on a Sticking Charm, which would bind her thighs to the broom’s handle, ensuring she couldn’t shift away from the torment. He wanted her legendary focus shattered, and he'd be watching every second of it.

Madam Hooch’s whistle pierced the roar of the crowd. The Quaffle launched skyward, and the match began.

Harrie felt it immediately- a subtle hum emanating from the broom handle, radiating through her thighs where they gripped the wood and more worryingly her cunt, which was pressed against the wood intimately. She tried to adjust her position, but her legs wouldn’t budge, stuck fast as if glued. Panic flickered briefly- what kind of sabotage was this? She shifted her weight experimentally, but the Sticking Charm held firm, pressing her core directly against the source of the vibrations. Dismissing it as a ridiculous, but harmless prank for now, her focus sharpened on the game. Gryffindor’s Chasers, spearheaded by Ginny, surged forward, scoring early. Harriet circled high, her eyes darting for the Snitch, but the vibration persisted, a low thrum that sent unwelcome tingles up her spine.

Draco watched her closely, his own broom steady as he mirrored her altitude. “Alright Potter? You're looking a bit flushed.” he called, his voice laced with mock concern. Harriet ignored him, but the vibration intensified slightly as she banked left, dodging a Bludger. It pressed against her clit, a rhythmic pulse that made her breath hitch. What the hell? She clenched her jaw, forcing her mind back to the pitch, but with the Sticking Charm locking her in place, every movement only ground her harder against her broom, amplifying the sensation.

Slytherin retaliated viciously. Their Chasers wove through Gryffindor’s defense, tying the score at 30-30. Harriet’s broom vibrated harder now, the charm responding to her speed, sending waves of sensation through her lower body. Her cheeks burned as she realized how wet she had gotten. Her breath was coming in pants and her hands were trembling with arousal. Glancing around the pitch she spotted him. His silver eyes locked onto her and a smirk a meter wide plastered on his stupidly handsome face. Malfoy. This was his doing.

The idea of him laughing at her discomfort filled her with indignation, but knowing he was watching her become aroused caused an odd heat to coil in her belly despite herself. The constant buzz teased her nerves, a warm flutter that made her thighs tense involuntarily and slick pool her knickers. She bit her lip, trying to ignore how the vibration pulsed in time with her heartbeat, each loop of the pitch sending fresh sparks through her.

She dove low, pursuing a false glint of gold, the broom’s constant buzz grinding against her most sensitive spots. Her thighs trembled, muscles straining to maintain control, but the Sticking Charm kept her pinned, turning every evasive maneuver into an exquisite torment. The buildup was insidious- at first, just a distracting warmth, but as the match wore on, it deepened into an insistent ache, her body responding against her will. Sweat slicked her skin under her robes, her breaths growing shallower as the pressure mounted, coiling tighter in her core like a spring being wound. She could feel herself flushing, her hips twitching subtly despite the charm’s hold, the vibration’s rhythm pushing her toward an edge she desperately fought.

Draco feinted toward her, their brooms nearly colliding. Up close, she saw the satisfaction in his eyes. “Enjoying the ride?” he murmured, low enough for only her to hear. Harriet’s glare could have scorched him, but her body betrayed her- a sharp gasp escaping as the broom sent a particularly powerful pulse directly onto her fluttering opening. Harrie fought to keep her eyes open against the pleasure but she still managed to ground out a scathing “fuck you, Malfoy” through her teeth.

She pulled away, heart pounding, the unwanted arousal making her movements jerky. The buildup intensified with every dive, the constant vibration now a relentless throb that made her inner muscles clench around nothing, waves of heat radiating outward. She was hyper-aware of every sensation- the wind on her face contrasting the inferno blazing below, her mind fracturing between the game and the growing need for release.

The score climbed, 60-50 now with Slytherin leading. Harriet’s world narrowed to the vibration’s relentless assault. It wasn’t just a distraction; it was blissful torture, each loop and dive amplifying the sensation, her robes doing little to shield her from the friction. She was so close to coming now, the cramping in her stomach hitting ultimate highs, protesting how long she had held her self back- deliberately edging herself to the point of pain. She spotted the Snitch flickering near the Slytherin goalposts and surged forward, the broom’s hum reaching a fever pitch.

Draco was right on her tail, his own flight precise. He reveled in her struggle, the way her body tensed and released, her hips rocking like she was riding a lover rather than a broom, her lips parting in silent frustration. He could feel his cock swell in empathy. Watching Potter edge herself for almost 2 hours was the highlight of his year.

A Bludger whistled past, forcing Harriet into a sharp spiral. The vibration spiked, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through her core. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, her vision blurring for a split second as the buildup crested higher, her nerves singing. With monumental effort she tore herself away from the brink once more. She would not lose this match because of Draco fucking Malfoy.

The Snitch darted away, and she cursed under her breath, the heat in her cunt building once more, her thighs were now soaked in slick. How much longer could she hold out? “Think of how easy it would be to just give in” Draco shouted to her as he hovered just a few feet below. “Let go for once, it might do you some good.”

Slytherin scored again, 80-60. Harriet circled higher, trying to escape Draco’s honeyed words and the intensity of the vibrations by slowing her pace, but the charm didn’t relent- it throbbed steadily, a constant reminder of Draco’s handiwork. Her body ached, the vibration teasing her nerves, drawing her closer to the edge with each passing minute. The buildup was agonizing now, her breaths ragged, her core pulsing in rhythm, a flush spreading across her chest as she teetered, willing herself to hold on just a little longer.

The Snitch reappeared, a golden streak hurtling toward the center of the pitch. Harrie leaned in, ignoring the scream of her muscles, the vibration now a roar in her veins. Draco matched her speed, their brooms slicing through the air. The chase was frantic- dives, twists, near misses with Bludgers. 

She was close- so fucking close… to the Snitch. The pressure crested, her body tensing as the vibration pushed her over the brink. A shudder ripped through her, her vision whiting out in a burst of unwanted ecstasy. She cried out, the sound lost in the wind, her hand closing around the Snitch just as her orgasm hit, mid-air, waves of release crashing through her in shuddering pulses.

They plummeted, Draco grabbed her arm to steady her as they crashed into the grass. The crowd exploded- Gryffindor wins, 220-80! But Harriet lay there, trembling, the Snitch clutched in her fist, her body spent and humming with aftershocks, the sticking charm finally releasing its hold.

Madam Hooch declared the victory, but Harriet’s eyes found Draco’s, blazing with fury and a spark of something raw. He helped her up, his touch lingering a fraction too long. “Impressive, Potter,” he whispered, his voice husky. “Still at your… peak, I see.”

She shoved him away, but her legs wobbled, causing him to sling an arm around her waist to steady her. “You twisted git,” she hissed, her voice low and breathless. “You’ll pay for that.”

Draco’s smirk was triumphant, but his eyes darkened with desire. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t all bad was it? You still caught the snitch.” He stepped closer, the pitch emptying around them. “But if you want revenge… I’m willing to negotiate.”

Harriet’s pulse raced, anger mingling with the lingering heat. The war had taught them both about power, control, and the thrill of surrender. She grabbed his collar, pulling him in. “Oh, Malfoy. Next time, It’ll be you screaming my name.”

His laugh was dark, promising. “Promise?”

As she walked away, legs still trembling, Harriet felt the shift, their rivalry evolving into something much more exciting.

Chapter Text

The Hogwarts library hummed with the subdued activity of a mid-afternoon in 1945. Sunlight filtered through the high arched windows, casting golden shafts of light across the long tables where students bent over their books, quills scratching softly against parchment. Murmured conversations and dust motes floated in the air- a group of Ravenclaw girls debating rune translations, Gryffindors giggling quietly over a shared joke. In the shadowed depths of the Restricted Section, far from prying eyes but not nearly far enough from prying ears, Harriet stood frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs. She shouldn’t be here. Not again. But the pull was undeniable, a dark thread stitched into her soul, leading her back to him.

Of course, it likely wasn't her soul leading her to him. No, hopefully it was just something a bit further south. She had absolutely would not consider that she may be harboring any type of feelings for the snake, other than those that lay in the carnal experiences he had introduced her to. Seduced her more like. She had never considered herself a weak woman. She was an incredibly powerful witch, intelligent enough to be in the top of her year in many subjects, and intuitive enough to win most duels she entered. But when it came to him... oh she was weak. Which brought her back here...

She shouldn’t be here. Not again. But her feet had carried her through the aisles as if compelled, her heart pounding with the knowledge that he would be waiting. Tom Riddle was a vision of perfection to most of Hogwarts, he was a model student, Head Boy, a charmer whose smile could woo professors and peers alike. He was the epitome of brilliance, his name whispered with awe in the halls. But Harriet knew better. She’d seen the glint in his eyes, the one that lingered too long, too sharp, like a thorn hidden amongst roses. She had stumbled upon the Slytherin boys' clandestine gatherings more than once and may have lingered in the shadows long enough to overhear some of their whispers. The Knights of Walpurgis they called themselves- a ridiculously pompous name, no doubt thought up as another manor of seduction, this time aimed at the elite of Britian's wizarding society.

The Potters, by contrast, were well known light wizards, close friends with the Dumbledore's, and had remained guardians of virtue against the encroaching darkness Grindelwald had brought with him. While Tom had not publicly declared himself aligned with the Dark families of the sacred twenty-eight, it was clear to any who paid attention that he was firmly ensconced among their ranks- if not already leading them. His interest in dark magic combined with the scandalous behavior the two were engaging in would be a drastic fall from grace for her, one she was not willing to risk. And yet, here she was, drawn back to him like a moth to a cursed flame.

She slipped behind a towering shelf lined with ancient tomes, her breath shallow and footsteps muffled by the thick, woven carpet. The library’s main area was just beyond the stacks, the voices of their peers drifting through the thin barrier set her teeth on edge. She spotted him immediately- Tom, leaning against the opposite shelf, a heavy volume open in his hands as if he were merely studying. His dark hair caught the light and when his piercing, unreadable eyes locked onto hers, her breath caught in her lungs and she froze. He snapped the book shut with a soft thud and broke the spell he had so easily caught her in.

“You’re late,” he murmured, his voice a low thread that barely carried over the distant rustle of pages turning.

“I shouldn’t have come at all,” she whispered back, her tone laced with venom. But her body betrayed her, stepping closer despite the warning bells in her mind. This wasn’t the first time they had met. No, the first had been months ago, in an empty classroom after curfew- a frenzied clash born of heated stares and unspoken suspicions. She’d sworn it would never happen again, that what they had done was simply give in to their basest desires and now that they had, it would be all too simple to put it from her mind. But the pull was relentless, a dark gravity she couldn’t escape, her body had begun to crave his proximity, her ears began listening out for the cool tones of his voice. She hated him for it, for making her crave something so wrong, so destructive.

Tom’s lips curved into that infuriating half-smile, the one that promised both pleasure and pain. “And yet, here we are. Again.” He set the book aside, his gaze raking over her with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down her spine. “You can’t stay away, can you, Harriet? No matter how much you pretend to despise me.”

She glared at him, her fists clenching at her sides. “I do despise you. You may have them all fooled, but not me. I see through you Tom.” Her words were a hiss, barely audible, but the truth burned in them.

Tom’s lips curved into a smile, sharp and dangerous, as he set the book aside. He stepped forward, closing the distance until she could feel the heat of him, the faint scent of ink and something sharper, like ozone before a storm. “Then why do you keep coming back?” His hand brushed her arm, light as a feather, but it ignited a fire in her veins. "Why can't you just stay away?"

Harriet’s breath caught. There it was- the crack in his armor, the rhetorical question asked so gently but hung between them with a weight neither could fathom, confunding them both. He didn’t understand it either, this inexplicable draw. For all his control, his calculated demeanor, she unsettled him. It was a small victory in their endless war, but it only deepened the darkness of their bond.

Before she could retort, his mouth was on hers, hard and demanding, swallowing any protest. It wasn’t gentle; it never was. This was hate, pure and scorching, a battle fought with lips and hands instead of wands. Her back hit the shelf with a muffled thump, and she gasped into his kiss, her fingers digging into his shoulders as if to push him away- or pull him closer. She couldn’t tell anymore.

“Quiet,” he growled against her lips, his voice a silken threat. “You don’t want anyone to find us, do you? Imagine the scandal- the Potter girl, Dumbledore’s little pet, caught with me in a compromising position.” His hand slid to her waist, pinning her in place, while the other cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "One sound, and it’s over. Your precious reputation in ruins.”

She bit her lip to stifle a moan as his fingers traced the curve of her arse, his warning only stoking the fire burning in her gut. How could she possibly forget what was at stake? The library’s daytime bustle was a constant reminder- footsteps echoing faintly from the main hall, the occasional cough or scrape of a chair on stone.

But she couldn’t stop. Her hands fumbled with his robes, pulling him flush against her, the hate in her eyes mirroring the fire in his. “I hate you,” she breathed, so quietly it was almost inaudible, but he heard. His answering grin was filled with malace and obsession.

“Good,” he murmured, his breath was hot against her ear as he hiked up her skirt and fished out his cock from his trousers, his touch both reverent and ruthless. “Hate me all you want. It only makes this sweeter.” His movements were deliberate, controlled, even as his eyes betrayed a flicker of confusion laced with the same obsession she felt in her own gaze- the same bewilderment that plagued her. Why her? Why this light-aligned witch who challenged him at every turn? “Why can’t I stay away from you?” he whispered, and for an agonizing moment she thought she might break.

No. She was stronger than that. Better than him. With a surge of defiance, she reversed their positions slamming him in to the shelves causing a few books to topple to the floor unheeded. She conjured a chair- nothing ornate, but would still recieve praise from Dumbledor- and shoved Tom into it. Lifting her skirt once more she shoved her knickers to the side and straddled Tom, slotting her hips against his- his cock nestled snuggly between them. Gripping the hair at the back of his head in a tight fist she drew his head back to look at her once more, and was both annoyed and aroused at the show of amusement and lust playing upon his beautiful face.

Growling she took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. Hard. Blood bloomed, sharp and metallic on her tongue. This was not the time for a languid interlude. They needed to be quick. But she couldn't resist wiping that smug look from his face. With his blood in her mouth and his precum smearing the inside of her thighs she rose up on her tiptoes, grabbed his cock and lowered herself slowly onto him. Merlin. Dark Magic wasn't the only thing he was packing.

She leaned back to look him in the eye as she took his cock inside her to the hilt. Tom's face was glazed over, a madness shining in his eyes and blood smeared across his lips. His breath hitched as she rose on her toes, and descended once more, every inch of him dragging along her sensitive walls and then he smiled the most sinful, beautiful smile and it send shivers down her spine all the way to her toes. It was the most delicious insanity, heavenly depravity, having Tom Riddle buried so deep inside her she could feel the plush head of his cock nestled against her cervix.

Harriet clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp; her other arm wrapped around his neck for support. Together they worked up a rhythm- urgent and desperate- his thrusts meeting her undulations as his hands gripped her hips, guiding her rise and fall. The stretch, the blissful burn, the way his fingers dug into her skin with the intent to bruise- to mark her, was a reminder of why she kept coming back to him, despite how very much she hated him.

The chair creaked faintly in time with their movements, a dangerous sound in the quiet of the library, but they were too far gone to care. This was hate sex in its rawest form, where immense pleasure twisted with pain, desire with disgust. Every thrust was a claim, though who was doing the claiming was up for debate. "You are a sickness" Tom murmured against her lips, one of his hands coming to claw itself into her hair, holding her fast to his mouth. "One I wish I could purge. Why can't I just be rid of this?"

"Shut up" she breathed, her lips sucking his bloodied one into her mouth groaning too loudly at the violent lust it incited. “Shh,” he commanded softly, his voice a dark caress. “You wouldn’t want them to know what you really are, would you? How depraved you are in the shadows, when noone is looking. No one but me. My little Harriet.” His words were a spell, binding her deeper into the web they wove together. This wasn’t love; it was addiction, a dark compulsion neither could break. It wasn’t the first time, and as the heat built between them, Harriet knew with sinking certainty it wouldn’t be the last. She couldn’t stay away, no matter how much she tried. And neither could he.

When their peaks crashed over them, they stifled their cries in each other's skin, their bodies trembling with the effort to contain it all. The library continued its oblivious hum beyond the shelves- students laughing softly, pages turning, life going on as if nothing profane had occurred. Tom pulled back first, his breathing steadying with unnerving speed, while Harriet leaned her head into his neck, attempting to regain her equilibrium as quickly as she could. It was dangerous to remain vulnerable around a snake.

Standing on shaking legs she adjusted her knickers and smoothed out her skirt, avoiding looking at him at all and trying not to blush at the feeling of his spend slowly leaking from her and filling her knickers.

Tom rose from the chair with effortless grace, adjusting his robes with a precision that belied the passion of moments before. His expression once more a mask of composure, but his eyes lingered on her with that same self-possessed certainty that made her want to lash out. “You’ll be back,” he said quietly, not a question but a statement of fact. “Don't bother denying it Harriet. You are as bound to this as I am.”

With trembling hands, Harriet straightened her skirt again needlessly, tears of frustration pricking her eyes. “I wont be back.” she whispered, but even she didn’t believe it.

As she slipped away, weaving through the stacks toward the main area, the weight of their encounter settled heavier on her soul. Students glanced up as she passed, oblivious to the storm raging inside her. Tom remained behind, but she felt his gaze like a brand on her back. Why couldn’t she stay away? Why couldn’t he? The questions echoed in her mind, unanswered, as inevitable as their next meeting. The only way for this to end would be ruination, of his ambitions or her soul, though which one was anyone's guess.

But she would return. She always did.

Chapter Text

Harrie sat cross-legged on her four-poster bed in the Gryffindor tower, the Marauder’s Map spread out before her. She should have been studying, or writing her essay for Transfiguration, or catching up on sleep after a long day of stares and whispers. But she had never been a very good sleeper and after last year.... the dreams sometimes weren't worth what little sleep she ever actually managed to get, and the Map offered a distraction- a glimpse into the castle’s secrets.

The ink swirled, revealing tiny labeled footsteps pattering across the parchment. Harriet’s eyes narrowed as she spotted a familiar name- Remus Lupin. He was moving swiftly- too swiftly for a normal patrol- through the corridors, heading toward the Great Hall. She watched as he left the castle all together and headed down into the grounds. “What are you up to, Professor?” she muttered. Remus had come to Hogwarts as their new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, his gentle demeanor a balm after the chaos of Gilderoy Lockhart's brief tenure.

For the first time she actually quite liked going to DADA. If she were honest, she may be harboring a bit of a crush on the handsome- if a bit... rugged- man. He was easy to be around in a way she often found impossible with others due to her upbringing. The way he spoke to her was so kind and familiar, as if they had known each other for years. During their Patronus lessons, she often found herself telling him things she had never told anyone before- not even Hermione. She trusted him implicitly. But tonight, under the full moon’s glow filtering through the tower windows, she watched as his footsteps moved purposefully towards the Whomping Willow, into the tunnel below it... and then disappear entirely.

Curiosity ignited in her chest, a spark she couldn’t ignore. She could see that there was a secret tunnel under the murder tree but had never seen it in use, and had no idea where it led. How did Remus know where it was? How had he managed not to get clobbered to a pulp? Where was he going? Harriet folded the Map, whispering “mischief managed,” and grabbed her invisibility cloak. Slipping it on, she crept out of the common room, her footsteps muffled by the soft carpet underfoot.

The night air was frigid as she emerged onto the grounds, the Whomping Willow’s branches swaying ominously. Harriet was small, fairly agile and adept at avoiding things and people trying to swing at her, but this... this was going to be tricky. There must be a way if Professor Lupin did it. She looked around, wondering if maybe there was a spell she could use to slow the branches down- Hermione would probably know, but she didn't want to trek all the way back up to the castle and explain what she was doing and why... she spotted a branch next to the tree, laying over the snow. Its placement was odd, as if it had been left there deliberately, no snow covered it, meaning it had been placed there recently.

Levitating it gently, she acted on her intuition. It had never steered her wrong before- well, it hadn't often steered her wrong- okay so she was pretty much 50/50 on how often her intuition was right. But she had a good feeling about this, so she started using the stick to poke the tree, and eventually she hit a knot that made the whole tree shiver in delight and then still completely.

The tunnel was narrow, earthy, and seemingly endless, her wand’s “Lumos” casting flickering shadows along the path. She began her trek, trying not to breathe too loudly, reluctant to alert anyone- or anything of her presence there. What could Professor Lupin be doing in here? Was he meeting someone? Investigating the recent break into the Gryffindor Tower? Had he discovered Sirius Black's whereabouts?

As she neared the end, a low growl echoed through the walls, followed by a howl that sent chills down her spine- raw, pained, inhuman. Harriet’s heart raced. She extinguished her light and pushed through the trapdoor into a dusty main room. Moonlight poured through cracked boards, illuminating a horrific scene: Remus, sprawled on the floor naked, his body clenced and sweat soaked. Blood streaked his back and flanks, his face twisted in agony, limbs elongating with sickening cracks.

“Professor Lupin!” Harriet gasped, throwing off her cloak and rushing to his side. She knelt beside him, her hands hovering uncertainly. “What happened? Are you hurt? Let me help-”

His eyes snapped open, amber and feral, locking onto hers. Horror flashed across his features, cutting through the pain. “Harriet? No- get out!” His voice was a ragged whisper, strained as fur began sprouting along his arms. “Run, now!”

She froze, confusion warring with concern. “What? I can’t leave you like this. Tell me what’s wrong-”

Remus clutched at the floorboards, nails lengthening into claws. The transformation was accelerating, his body arching in torment. He hadn’t sensed her approaching- the agony of the shift had blinded him to everything, even the pull of his mate. Mate. The word echoed in his fracturing mind. Harriet was his, had been since he’d first caught her scent so many years ago, but he had been in denial, surely the fates weren't so cruel as so shackle an innocent baby to an old monster like him. But now, with the wolf rising, her presence was a siren call, even his prodigious self-depreciation, wouldn't be able to resist.

“Please, Harrie,” he gasped, the words tumbling out as his jaw began to elongate. “Fuck… the pain… too much. Harriet, please- oh god! Too late...run. Dont want to- hurt you. Bite you. Breed you. Too late!”

“What are you talking about?” Harriet’s voice trembled, but she didn’t move. Couldn't. He was in pain. Hurt obviously. “You’re scaring me. Let me get help- Madam Pomfrey- ”

“No time,” he snarled, his voice deepening into a new timber no human could acheive. Fur rippled across his skin, his body swelling with muscle. “Don’t run. The wolf… will chase. See you as prey. Worse for you. Stay… submit.”

The final words were barely recognizeable. Harrie scrambled back to the wall as Remus’s form twisted fully, bones reshaping with a final, gut-wrenching crack and an earsplitting howl of pain. And then all went quiet. Harries eyes- widened with fear and abject confusion- finally made sense of what she was seeing. Where Remus had once been now stood a massive werewolf—tall, lupine, with shaggy brown fur, eyes glowing gold with primal hunger. The Shack’s silence thickened as the wolf began to scent the air.

Harriet’s breath caught, terror rooting her in place. A werewolf? Professor Lupin? It explained so much- the scars, the absences, the haunted look in his eyes. She backed further into the wall instinctively, but his warning echoed- Don’t run. With her movement the wolf’s gaze snapped to her, nostrils flaring as it inhaled her scent. Recognition flared in its eyes and a hunger seemed to bloom within them. A low rumble emanated from its chest, not aggression, but possession.

“Professor?” she whispered, her voice small. “Please… it’s me- H- Harriet.”

The wolf lunged. Its massive paws slammed down on either side of her, caging her against the floor. Harriet yelped, her head twisting to the side trying with all her might to sink through the decaying wall behind her. The beast’s hot breath washed over her neck, a cold wet nose buried itself into her hair and then- teeth. Sharp fangs clamped onto the nape of her neck, firm and unyielding, but not piercing deep enough to break skin. It was a hold of dominance, and she froze completely, her reaction instinctive and absolute.

Harriet gasped, the pressure sending jolts through her body- a mix of pain, fear, and an unwelcome heat. “Professor Lupin- stop!” But her words dissolved into a whimper as the wolf began to bully her away from the wall, forcing her to crawl to keep his teeth from sinking further into her neck. When he had positioned her to his liking, Remus released her, growling lowly in his throat to let her know that any movement on her part would be ill advised. She heard him move behind her, sniffing various parts of her body as he went until he reached her backside.

She let out a startled squeak when his wet nose suddenly buried itself in the juncture of her thighs, snuffling loudly and almost purring at the blossoming scent of her arousal. With a huff he began to claw at the barriers keeping her sweet smelling skin away from his gaze. Harriet’s pajamas tore under its claws, the fabric ripping away to expose her skin to the cool air. When she was completely bare, he began to lick. She tried to keep still, fearing those venom tipped teeth, but when his tongue shifted from her thighs to the slit between her legs she squealed and tried to crawl away from the insidious appendage. The sudden snarl at her retreat locked her muscles in fear and some kind of instinctive obedience she couldn't even begin to understand.

Prowling forward once more he resumed his perusal of her sex. His tongue covered every inch of her most private places, dipping in to lap at her clit, straying further north to dip into her core. Again and again the warm, wet tongue lapped at her folds, compounding her arousal until her hips began to shift with something other than alarm. All she was able to concentrate on was her hearts's pounding and the hot, slick warmth gathering in her cunt. Remus's tounge begain to dip into her opening with more intent, each lap of his tongue beginning at her clit and ending curled deeper and deeper insde her. Before she knew it she had bgun rocking her hips in time with his rythm, moaning his name loudly into the otherwise silent room.

Her climax took her by surprise, causing her to scream out, her fingernails digging into the rotted floorboards, trying to keep from losing herself altogether.

She was so soaked in the bliss from her oragasm that she almost missed it when a weight pressed her down, shifting her until she was kneeling like a bitch in heat. She felt his fur brush like silk against her back, could feel his strength, the raw power coiling in his muscles. His jaw found her nape once more, pinning her delicately to the dirty floor. The bite held her immobile, a primal command to submit and a whimper left her lips that sounded far too much like anticipation and not nearly enough like refusal.

The wolf growled approvingly, its body shifting to mount her. She trembled, mind reeling- this was Remus, her Professor, the handsome man she fancied, the man who was much older than her and whom had never expressed any interest in her beyond her academic sucsess- but the wolf didn’t seem to care for human bonds. It only knew his mate’s scent and the urge to claim.

With a deep thrust, the wolf entered her, its size overwhelming. Harriet cried out, the intrusion raw and animalistic, stretching her to her limits and stealing her breath away. The bite tightened, keeping her in place as it began to move- forceful, rhythmic, each drive a declaration of ownership. Pain blurred into something deeper, a haze of sensation that made her body respond despite the initial shock. The Shack’s floorboards creaked under them, her moans echoing, lending themselves to the building’s legend. The wolf's cock was large, larger than any toy she had ever experimented with, and tapered strangely at the tip. She could feel it hammering away at her cervix with each thrust, as if it was attempting to gain access there as well. 

The wolf’s growls deepened, its pace quickening. Harriet’s fingers dug into the wood, crying out his name once more as waves of pleasure built. His cock, already substantial seemed to be growing, and she felt something begin to nudge against her entrance, something thicker and rounder than the shaft currently hilted inside her. Slowly, he began to work that inside her too, the bulbous knot rubbing deliciously against the sweet spot at the front of her channel. Unable to hold back any longer she came for a second time, soaking them both in her come. This seemed to unlock any last reservations Remus had held onto and he began to trust into her viciously, his knot slipping in and out of her strumming that spot inside of her in the most incredible way. It was feral, unrelenting, his knot swelling further and further until finally it had locked them together in a final, inescapable hold. “Prrofessorrr…” she moaned, tears streaking her face from the incredible stretch and drool running from her mouth onto the floor, her hips bucking instinctively, meeting his stilted thrusts.

With a triumphant howl, the wolf climaxed, flooding her with his seed- breeding her as instinct demanded. The knot pulsed, tying them, ensuring his seed took root. Harriet shuddered through her own final release, an overwhelming climax that left her limp and spent. The bite softened, the wolf’s tongue lapping at the mark he had left on her neck, a seal of ownership and an imprint of their new status as bonded mates.

Minutes stretched into eternity as the knot held, the wolf’s body draped over hers protectively, his tongue lapping at the tear trails on her cheeks and the sweat that had gathered on her brow. Harriet’s mind swirled with shock, confusion, and an unusual sense of belonging she had never encountered before. Remus was a werewolf. And now... she was his?

As the moon dipped lower, Harriet dozed off, the knot had gone down at some point, but the wolf simply shifted so that it was curled protectively around the sleeping girl, keeping the frigid winter air from chilling her skin. At dawn Remus began the transformation once more. Fur receded, limbs shortened, and Professor Lupin collapsed beside her, human- naked, covered in sweat, and horrified. “Harriet… oh gods, what have I done? Are you- did I hurt you? Please- I- I'm so sorry.” His voice broke, hands reaching for her trembling form.

She flinched at first, then met his eyes- filled with guilt and love. “You… you’re a werewolf. And I’m your… mate?”

He nodded, tears streaming. “I never wanted this for you, I tried so hard to keep it hidden. The bond- it’s rare, powerful. I sensed it years ago, but I fought it. Tonight… you were here, why did you come here? There was no time for you to run, I knew I would chase you down and likely hurt you in the process, without meaning to. I would never hurt you intentionally, no matter the form. You're everything to me. I’m so sorry this happened.”

Harriet touched the tender spot on her neck, the marks throbbing but not painful. She wasn’t infected; the bite had been controlled, even in the wolf’s frenzy. “You warned me. I stayed anyway. This isnt your fault. I saw you on the map and followed.”

Remus pulled her into his arms kissing her tangled hair, his body warm despite the chill. “I never wanted this for you darling, you deserve so much better than me.”

“I already wanted you. Have for a while. I think I knew... that we were mates I mean. I felt connected to you, not as much as I do now, but... it was there.” She leaned into him, exhaustion mingling with acceptance. “What now?”

He kissed her forehead gently. “We face this together. If you’ll have me.”

Harriet nodded, a small smile breaking through. The Shack fell silent, no longer shrieking, as dawn crept in. 

Days turned to weeks. Remus explained everything- the curse, the mate bond’s pull, how her presence soothed his wolf. Harriet researched the animangus ritual, seeking a way to ease his transformations the way her father had done. Their relationship deepened, tentative touches turning to tender embraces.

Under the next full moon, they returned to the Shack prepared. Remus drank Wolfsbane, granting him lucidity in wolf form. Harriet stayed, curled up with him in the freshly transfigured bed, and provided as much comfort as she could for her mate, until the day she too could transform and they could galavant in the forest and search out its secrets.

Chapter Text

Harrie slammed the stack of parchments onto her desk with a force that made the inkwell rattle precariously. The Auror department at the Ministry buzzed with its usual chaos- wizards darting between cubicles, enchanted memos zipping through the air like deranged pigeons, and the distant crackle of spellwork from the training rooms. But Harriet was sidelined, confined to this infernal desk, drowning in paperwork. At six months pregnant, she was the picture of frustration, her once-athletic frame now cumbersome, her hormones turning every minor annoyance into a full-blown disaster.

“I hate this,” she muttered to herself, glaring at the pile of reports on unlicensed broom modifications. Robards, her boss, had been firm- no field work until the baby arrived. “For your safety, Harriet,” he’d said, his deep voice laced with concern- but she knew that her blasted husband was behind this. She couldn't prove it, but the spark of fear in Robards eyes was enough. Sev was of course trying to keep her safe- like always. But this felt more like imprisonment. She was used to action; she couldn't remember the last time she was forced to sit still for this long- even during her school days she was always up to something. Now, she was reduced to scribbling notes on petty crimes while her colleagues chased real threats.

Later that evening, in their little cottage in Wiltshire, Harriet unleashed her pent-up rage. The cottage, once snug little two bedroom brownstone, now boasted magical additions- a sunlit nursery, a sprawling potions lab in the basement, and wards that hummed with Severus’s protective spells. She burst through the floo, kicking off her shoes with unnecessary force and storming (waddling) through the house shouting. “Severus! I can’t bloody stand it anymore. Desk duty is torture! All day, nothing but forms and memos. I’m bored out of my mind, and these hormones make me want to hex everyone in sight, and you, you great bloody git, are at the top of my list!”

Severus, still Headmaster of Hogwarts and part-time Advanced Potions professor, looked up from his armchair by the fire. His black robes traded in for his more casual houseware of a soft black wool jumper and slacks, though the scent of bitter herbs still clung to him from his day of teaching seventh-years. His dark eyes flickered with amusement as he set aside a leather-bound tome on rare ingredients. “Good evening to you as well, Wife. I see you are determined to continue harping on about the forcible curtailment of your recklessness for yet another day. It seems as if pregnancy has amplified your penchant for dramatics, my dear.”

She flopped onto the sofa opposite him, her hand automatically rubbing her belly where the baby kicked in solidarity. “It’s not dramatics- it’s torture. Ron keeps popping by with sympathetic looks, Hermione sends owls with ‘helpful’ articles on prenatal rest, and I feel like a useless lump. I miss the action, the adrenaline. This paperwork is sucking the life out of me. And I blame you entirely, I know you threatened Robards.”

Severus steepled his long fingers, his gaze lingering on her flushed face and the way her robes strained over her ripe curves. A sly smile tugged at his thin lips but he gave nothing else away. “Perhaps I can alleviate your boredom. A little… diversion during your interminable desk hours as recompense.”

Harrie eyed him suspiciously, though a spark of interest ignited in her. Severus’s “diversions” were always inventive, often wicked. “What are you plotting now?”

He rose fluidly, crossing the room to stand before her. With a wave of his wand, he summoned a small, velvet pouch from his lab downstairs. From it, he withdrew an object that looked deceptively mundane- a fleshlight, crafted from soft, enchanted silicone that shimmered faintly with embedded runes. “This,” he said, his voice a low purr, “is charmed to connect directly to you. Depending on my mood, it will link to your cunt or your arse. I’ll use it at my discretion, without warning. Imagine- buried in paperwork and tedium, and suddenly… your tight little cunt is filled to breaking with my cock.”

Her breath caught, a mix of shock and arousal flushing her skin. “You made this? For me?”

“For us,” he corrected, kneeling before her on the rug. His hands slid up her thighs, parting her robes with deliberate slowness. “Amongst your other complaints, you have also made it well known that you are and I quote 'hornier than a two-peckered billy goat' I merely sought to eliminate two of your chief complaints in one stroke (or several, as it were)." Smirking at the glazed look beginning to overtake her face, Severus leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss, first on her lips, and then on her stomach.

"But first... to ensure the charm takes properly, I must attune it to your body.” His fingers traced the edge of her knickers, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. Harrie’s pulse quickened; even after years of being together like this, his touch ignited her like Fiendfyre.

“Severus…” she whispered, her voice filled with her unspoken plea. The baby shifted, pressing on her spine uncomfortably, but the hormones amplified her desire, making her ache for more and driving out any other thought in her head.

He hooked his fingers into her knickers, sliding them down her legs with agonizing patience. “Relax, wife. Let me prepare you.” His dark eyes locked on hers as he parted her thighs wider, exposing her to the warm firelight. One hand cupped her mound, his thumb circling her clit lightly, drawing a gasp from her lips. “So responsive. Already soaking wet for me, aren't you love?”

She gripped the sofa cushions, her body arching toward him. “Tease,” she accused breathlessly.

“Oh, I intend to.” His fingers delved lower, two slipping into her slick cunt with ease. He pumped them slowly, curling to brush that spot that made her see stars. Harriet moaned, her head falling back. But he wasn’t done. With his other hand, he reached for a vial of lubricant from his pocket- scented with lavender, brewed for sensitivity. He coated his fingers generously, then trailed them back, circling her pucker with feather-light touches.

“Severus- please,” she panted, her hips lifting instinctively.

“Shh. Trust me.” He teased the tight ring of muscle, pressing gently until one finger breached her, stretching slowly. The sensation was always intense, a burn that melted into pleasure as he worked her open. “Breathe, Harriet. Let me prepare you properly.” He added a second finger, scissoring them to stretch her further, his movements practiced and perfected. All the while, his other hand continued in her cunt, thumb flicking her clit in a gentle rhythm.

The dual assault overwhelmed her. “Gods, yes- more,” she begged, her grumpiness forgotten in the haze of need. Severus smiled, leaning in to kiss her inner thigh, his breath hot against her skin.

“Calm, love, I will take care of you.” He thrust his fingers deeper into her arse, stretching the walls until she was pliant, ready. The charm hummed on the seat next to her, attuning to her responses. Finally, with a twist that made her cry out, he withdrew, leaving her trembling on the edge.

“Tomorrow.” he smirked, cleaning his hands with a spell. “I want you wet and desperate until then.” He tucked the fleshlight away, sealing the charm with a whispered incantation tied to their marriage bond.

Harriet pulled him up for a fierce kiss, tasting sin on his lips. “You’re diabolical.”

“And you love it.”

The next morning, Harriet arrived at the Ministry with a secret thrill buzzing under her skin. She settled at her desk, the stack of parchments mocking her. Minor hex reports from Knockturn Alley, patrol schedules to approve- the usual endless drudgery.

She dipped her quill, focusing on a detailed account of a wizard caught smuggling cursed artifacts. Midway through annotating the suspect’s description- tall, hooded, with a distinctive tattoo- she felt it. The brush of a finger against her labia. A startled squeak flew our of her mouth and she quickly pushed her chair back to look. Of course she couldn't quite see over her belly but she was quite sure she still had her knickers, trousers and robes on. Which means- the fleshlight. Severus was using it! Another brush against her cunt, this time more sure, as if the first was just a warning of what was to come. The finger began tickling over her clit, rubbing circles that become more and more firm as they went on. She attempted to act naturally, pulling the report back to her and dipping her quill back into the ink. She sat with her legs a bit wider, hoping to invite more of the delightful stimulation. She had become embarrassingly wet in no time at all when she felt a subtle warmth bloomed between her legs, then a firm pressure, as if Severus’s cock was sliding into her cunt. Filling her completely to the brim in a single, dominating thrust.

Harriet’s quill scratched across the page, ink splattering. “Oh- Merlin,” she whisper/ cried, glancing around her cubicle. The department was alive with chatter, but no one had noticed her outburst. The thrusting began slow, deliberate, mimicking Severus’s teasing rhythm from last night. Each push filled her completely, the charm translating every nuance- the slight curve, the insistent grind against her inner walls.

She bit her lip, trying to steady her breathing. The report blurred; words like “illegal portkey” swam before her eyes. The sensation built, a deep, rolling pleasure that made her thighs clench. She imagined Severus in his office, the fleshlight in hand, his long fingers gripping it as he thrust in and out. His head thrown back in pleasure at the feeling of her warm cunt wrapped tightly around him. Was he smirking? Probably, the git.

Deeper now, faster. Her nipples peaked under her bra, rubbing against her robes with each involuntary shift. A bead of sweat trickled down her back. She had to bite her lip to stifle a whimper as the thrusts suddenly slowed and turned into teasing- shallow dips that grazed her clit indirectly, building frustration before plunging deep again. She could imagine Severus’s smirk deepen, his hand working the fleshlight with precision, drawing out her pleasure. Her cunt clenched around the invisible intrusion, hips twitching involuntarily. But the pressure hit that sweet spot, over and over, sending sparks up her spine. Her free hand gripped the desk edge, knuckles white.

A colleague passed by, nodding hello; she forced a smile, her voice strained. “Morning, Jenkins.”

He nodded, oblivious. As he passed her by, a particularly hard thrust made her jolt, causing him to do a double take. “You okay, Harriet? You look flushed.”

“Fine! Just… warm in here.” She forced a smile, but inside, the orgasm coiled tight. The thrusting quickened, relentless, pounding into her core. She crossed her legs, squeezing, but it only heightened the friction. Finally, it crested- a shattering wave that had her slumping forward, a choked gasp escaping as pleasure flooded her veins. Her cunt pulsed around the invisible intrusion, milking it until both were spent. She felt the softened cock slip from her body, and then shockingly, a sticky trail of semen trickle into her knickers from her trembling channel.

She sat up, cheeks burning and cast a quick cleansing charm on her lower half. Glancing back at her desk she noted that the report was ruined, ink smeared everywhere. But the boredom? Vanished, replaced by a sated glow and a goofy smile.

The morning crawled on, her body humming with anticipation. By lunch, hunger gnawed- both for food and whatever Severus might unleash next. She walked (waddled) to the cafeteria, the vast room echoing with laughter and clinking cutlery. Ron and Hermione waved her over to their table, Ron with his usual heaping plate of bangers and mash, Hermione nursing a salad and a stack of parchments.

“Harrie! Surviving desk duty?” Ron grinned, fork midway to his mouth.

“Barely,” she grumbled, easing into her seat. Her belly pressed against the table edge, the baby kicking her directly in the spleen- whatever that was. “It’s endless. I swear, if I see one more form on broomstick regulations…”

Hermione clucked sympathetically. “It’s temporary. And Severus? How’s he handling impending fatherhood?”

“Smug as ever,” Harriet replied, spearing a forkful of pasta. Ron launched into a tale of a recent Auror bust- a group of dark artifact dealers in Devon- while Hermione interjected with policy details.

Mid-conversation, as Harriet laughed at Ron’s impression of a fumbling suspect, the sensation returned. But with one glaring difference- the touch was centered on her arse this time, a teasing probe at first, echoing the preparation from last night. She froze, fork hovering. Severus was starting slow, the charm translating a gentle circling, like fingers teasing her rim.

Her breath hitched. Oh gods... now? He couldn't be serious. But the touch persisted, a slick pressure building as if he were stretching her anew. The phantom fingers-two, then three- worked her open, scissoring just as he had done physically, preparing her for more. She shifted in her chair, cheeks flushing. Ron was still talking: “…and then the bloke trips over his own robes!”

Harriet nodded absently, her arse clenching around the invisible intrusion. The stretching intensified, a burn that bloomed into pleasure as it stroked along her walls, making her squirm. Hermione noticed. “Harriet? You seem uncomfortable.”

“Just… the chair,” she lied, as the preparation gave way to a fat cock thrusting- deep, filling her in the most intense way. Each push stretched her further, hitting nerves that made her toes curl under the table. No mercy, just rhythmic pounding, a claiming that was unmistakable. Severus always took her arse this way, as if he was allowing himself a freedom he never could have imagined and would partake as thoroughly as he was capable of.

She gripped her napkin, knuckles pale. The noise from the caf blurring into a low din. A moan built in her chest but was quickly suppressed into a cough. She was being used for his pleasure in the middle of a crowded room, and no one knew. It was filthy and depraved so bloody exciting. Her orgasm raced toward her, tight and inevitable. Her hips twitched, arse pulsing around the phantom cock. Finally, it hit- a loud, unrestrained cry bursting from her lips, echoing across the room. Heads swiveled. Ron dropped his fork. “Bloody hell, Harrie!”

She clamped a hand over her mouth, waves of ecstasy crashing, her body shuddering. When it subsided, she gasped, “Sorry- spicy lunch! They must have put something new in the Alfredo...”

Hermione frowned, suspicious. “Maybe avoid Italian next time. That was quite the outburst.”

Harriet forced a laugh, heart racing. “Yeah, lesson learned, bland foods only until baby comes.”

The afternoon passed in a haze, paperwork now a minor inconvenience compared to the anticipation of seeing her Husband again. That evening, she raced home, desperate to get her hands on the devil. She caught him just as he was descending the stairs having changed out of his robes, "You bloody brilliant wanker!" She grabbed his face in both hands and kissed her ridiculously handsome husband to the point of breathlessness.

He pulled back and rolled his eyes, pulling her close. “A terrible pun, Mrs. Snape. So tell me, how was your day?”

"I hope I have days like that every day from now on. Say, do you think we can charm a dildo in the same way? I want to try it on you next!"

Weeks blurred, the fleshlight a spicy secret pleasantly breaking the monotony of her days and slightly alleviating her grumpiness. As her belly grew, the uses gentled, but Severus always seemed to be able to intuit when she needed his assistance. Soon, their daughter Amara arrived, and desk duty ended- but their games? Eternal.

Chapter Text

In the shadowed corridors of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the air was thick with the musty scent of moldering tapestries and rotten furniture. Dust motes danced in the faint light filtering through grimy windows, but the real specter haunting the house was the portrait of Walburga Black. Her canvas form dominated the wall in the entry hall, her aristocratic features twisted into a perpetual sneer of pure-blood superiority. Sirius had spent years trying to rip her down- hexes, pry bars, even a desperate attempt with Muggle explosives- but the enchantment held firm. She was stuck there, a venomous reminder of his wretched upbringing. Which was ultimately the reason he had decided to abandon the house once more. He had moved to a quiet countryside manor in Bath; it was light and open where this place was a graveyard- quiet as a tomb.

Tonight, though, Sirius had a decided to return once more, all in the name of vengeance. A deliciously spiteful prank had formulated in his mind late one night and when he mentioned it to his wife, she insisted they come to enact it the very next night.

He stood in the center of the hall, his tall frame clad in a simple black shirt and trousers, his long hair tousled from their drive here. His wife, Harrie was by his side. At twenty-two, she was a vision of resilient beauty, long, messy black hair framing a delicate face, those piercing green eyes, her lithe body curved in all the ways that drove him mad. She was a half-blood, Muggle-born on her mother’s side, and raised entirely in the muggle world, the very embodiment of everything Walburga despised. And Sirius loved her for it and so very much more. He loved her fiercely, protectively, with a passion born from so many years of shared memories and stolen moments.

Their wedding had been a quiet affair. They had run off in the aftermath of the war, when the world had finally quieted enough for them to claim their happiness. They married in a muggle courthouse, she wore a simple white dress, and he wore a grey suit that she said matched his eyes. They were happy- incredibly, indecently so. But Sirius’s mind often wandered to the future- to what he wanted to leave behind when he finally departed. He had no interest the twisted pure-blood ideologies about the Black name and the pure-blood legacy his family had drilled into him, but a real family... one built on love, trust, and joy- he could imagine nothing better.

He wanted Harrie pregnant, her belly swelling with their child, a half-blood heir to The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. They had talked about it for months- years even. She wanted to establish herself in her career before they started trying, but it was finally time. They were both ready and tonight, in this cursed house, he would make it happen. And his mother would watch as her legacy crumbled around her once more.

“Harrie,” Sirius murmured, his voice low and gravelly as he pulled her into his arms. His hands slid down her back, cupping her arse possessively. “Before the shrew wakes, are you sure you are ready? You know I won't mind waiting as long as you need.”

She shivered against him, her nipples hardening under her thin cotton t-shirt as she met his gaze. “Yes, Sirius. I want this. Our baby… right here.”

He grinned, that roguish smile that had always melted her heart and set flame to her knickers. “Good girl. And look who’s finally waking up.” He nodded toward the portrait, where Walburga’s eyes had begun to stir, sensing the intrusion into her crypt.

The painted hag’s voice erupted like a banshee’s wail. “What filth is this? Sirius Orion Black, you dare bring that mudblood whore into my home?”

Sirius’s laugh was dark and triumphant. "Hello again you pernicious prude. I've brought my wife 'round to visit." He spun Harrie around, pressing her front against the wall mere inches from the frame, so Walburga had an unobstructed view. "I believe you two have already met."

"How dare you sully the great House of Black! She will never be recognized! I would rather my House die with poor Regulus than see it be tarnished in such a way!"

"Oh, but you will certainly be seeing it anyway."

Harrie’s hands splayed against the cold plaster, her breath quickening as Sirius hiked up her robes, exposing her beautiful skin to the cool air. She wasn’t wearing knickers- his request- and the sight of her smooth, pale arse made his cock twitch in his trousers.

“Watch closely, Mother,” Sirius taunted, his fingers tracing the cleft of Harrie’s cheeks. Nestled there was the buttplug he’d gifted her earlier that evening- a sleek gold toy with a ruby base that gleamed in the dim light. He had slid it there himself earlier that day, seating it deep inside her, stretching her arse in preparation for what was to come. Leaning in to bury his nose in her hair he growled into her ear "You're mine Harrie. All of you. Do you feel this?" he pressed his clothed aching erection into the plush skin of her bottom, "all of this is for you, my perfect girl."

Harrie moaned softly as Sirius gripped the ruby base of the plug, giving it a teasing twist as he pressed his cock against her folds. “Sirius… please…”

“Patience, love,” he whispered, leaning in to nip at her earlobe. His free hand slipped between her thighs, finding her already wet and slick. “You’re dripping for me. Ready to take my seed? Ready to make our baby?”

“Yes,” she gasped, pushing back against his fingers. “I want your baby inside me. I want you to breed me... please.”

Walburga screeched, the frame rattling. “Vile filth! Mudblood slut! You’ll taint the noble house forever!”

Sirius silenced her with a wave of his hand, "we don't need to hear you for what comes next, Walburga. Just enjoy the show" his focus returning to Harrie. He freed his cock from his trousers, the thick length springing out, veined and throbbing with need. He rubbed the head along her folds, coating himself in her arousal. “I'm going to fill you up, Harrie. Pump you full until you’re leaking my cum. Fuck, you will be so fucking beautiful, pregnant with my child.”

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he sank into her cunt, inch by inch. Harrie cried out, her walls clenching around him, the plug in her arse making the fit even tighter. The dual fullness was exquisite- her body stretched to its limits, every nerve alight. Sirius groaned, bottoming out, his balls pressing against her dripping slit.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, his hands on her hips. “This plug… stuffed full. Taking me so well baby.”

He began to move, slow at first, savoring the drag of her heat around him. Each thrust pushed the plug deeper inside her arse, the base rubbing against his shaft through the thin barrier. Harrie whimpered, her fingers scraping the wall. “More, Sirius… harder…”

“Oh, I’ll give you more,” he promised, his voice husky with lust. One hand slid around to her front, fingers circling her clit, while the other gripped the plug and pulled the it out slowly, inch by slick inch, until only the tip remained inside her. Harrie’s arse clenched at the emptiness, a whine escaping her lips. “Sirius, don’t tease…”

“Who’s teasing?” He pushed it back in just as slowly, the toy sliding home and making her moan with delicious pleasure. A shiver rippled through her and her cunt clenched around him, amplifying the stretch as his cock continued its rhythm. He repeated the motion- pulling out halfway, then shoving it back in- timing it with his thrusts. Out and in, out and in, the plug fucking her arse while he claimed her pussy.

“God, look at you,” Sirius panted, his hips snapping faster now. “Taking it in both holes. So full for me. Imagine when you’re pregnant- your breasts swollen, your belly round with our baby. I’ll fuck you like this every night, breeding you over and over.”

Harrie moaned louder, her body rocking back to meet him. “Yes… fuck me, Sirius. Cum in me. Need it, feels so good. So good.”

Walburga’s portrait was in hysterics now, her painted fists pounding the canvas her mouth flapping soundlessly, spewing silent vitriol.

Sirius thrust harder, the sarcasm dripping from his words as he addressed the portrait. “Oh, Mother, aren’t you thrilled? I’m carrying on the family name- just like you always nagged me about. Breeding my beautiful half-blood wife right in front of you. I'm sure you've never been so proud.”

He pulled the plug out again, this time fully, letting it dangle from his fingers for a moment. Harrie’s arse gaped slightly, empty and yearning, before he pushed it back in with a wet pop. She screamed in pleasure, her pussy fluttering around his cock. “Sirius! Fuck, yes!”

“Like that, love?” He did it again- out, in- faster this time, alternating with deep, grinding thrusts. The pace was relentless now, the plug’s movements syncing with his cock, creating a symphony of fullness that had Harrie trembling. Sweat beaded on her skin, her shirt hanging off one shoulder, exposing a pert breast that Sirius reached around to squeeze.

“You’re going to come so hard,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck. “Squeeze my cock, milk every drop. I can feel you getting closer- your pussy’s gripping me like it knows what I am going to give it. I'm going to help it fulfill its true purpose aren't I love? Going to make you a Mum.”

“Yes… oh God, Sirius, I need it. Cum inside me.” Harrie’s voice was breathless, laced with desperation. The thought of pregnancy fueled her arousal- their child, a symbol of their love, defying the odds that had always been stacked against them both.

Sirius’s pace quickened, his balls tightening as he chased his release. He pulled the plug out one last time, thrusting it back in with force, then left it seated deep as he focused on pounding into her cunt. His fingers worked her clit furiously, pinching and rubbing until she shattered.

“I- oh- I-I’m coming!” Harrie wailed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her walls convulsed, pulling him deeper, the plug adding to the intensity as her arse clenched around it.

“That’s it, love- come for me. Take my seed.” Sirius groaned, burying himself to the hilt as he erupted. Hot spurts of cum flooded her, painting her insides, his hips jerking with each pulse. He imagined it taking root, fertilizing her, creating life. “Fuck, Harrie… take it all. So good for me. I love you. Love you so much.”

They stayed locked together, panting, as his release trickled out of her slowly before he magicked a second plug in her cut to hold it all inside. Walburga’s portrait had stilled in the frame, her eyes wide with painted horror, defeated for the moment.

Sirius finally pulled out, watching his cum hit the magic barrier inside her with immense male satisfaction. He eased the anal plug free, setting it aside, then turned Harrie to face him. He kissed her deeply, his hand resting on her flat belly. “Soon, love. You’ll be carrying our child.”

She smiled, eyes shining. “I can’t wait.”

They dressed and left the room, Walburga completely forgotten once more. His vengeance finally complete. The Black legacy was his to redefine- and the future was tremendously bright.

Chapter Text

Harriet’s world shattered in the Department of Mysteries. Spells flew like fireworks, Death Eaters cackling as they pursued the prophecy. Sirius teetered on the edge of the veil, his laugh defiant even in the face of death. In a surge of desperation, Harriet grabbed on to the lapel of his jacket and fell with him.

She fell. And she fell. For what felt like hours, she fell.

She had lost Sirius the moment she passed through the cursed curtains. She was alone.

Alone- until she landed with a hard thump on stone, the world spinning and her stomach churning with it. When the dizziness subsided, she was sprawled on a cobblestone path in Hogsmeade, the date according to her tempus: June 18, 1976. The air was warmer, the village quieter, free of the ominous shadows the war had cast over England. She had been thrust back in time, into a past where Voldemort’s rise was just beginning.

Her body ached, scars throbbing- the infamous lightning bolt on her forehead, a jagged reminder of the prophecy she had managed to hear before it shattered- throbbed in time with her heart. The cursed scar from Umbridge’s detentions had broken open at some point and was sluggishly bleeding once more. She needed to dress it before infection set in, but survival came first. She found an alleyway, tried to clean up as best she could and set out on the path up to the castle. When she arrived, looking decidedly worse for wear, she told Professor Dumbledor everything. He vowed to take care of it and bid her to find a room with the assistance of a house elf.

------

September 1, 1976, the Hogwarts Express chugged into Hogsmeade station. Harriet disembarked nervously, her trunk light with scavenged belongings. The Great Hall’s sorting was surreal- so many faces she knew, but also didn't... young McGonagall, her parents, Sirius alive and seemingly unaware of who she was. “Peverell, Harriet!” McGonagall called, and after a moment’s deliberation, the hat shouted “Gryffindor!”

Cheers erupted, and Harriet’s eyes caught on the Slytherin table. There he was- Severus Snape, sixteen, his nose buried in a book, ignoring the festivities. In her time, he was Professor Snape, acerbic and complex. Here, he was a student, potentially her ally, he was certainly brilliant enough and a talented liar.

Lily Evans slid next to her at the table, red hair gleaming. “Welcome! I’m Lily. This is Alice.”

Alice Fortescue beamed, her round face friendly. “You’ll love it here. All the Professors are great, and we have Potions first thing tomorrow- Slughorn’s so easy.”

Harriet smiled gratefully. Their friendship was instant, a lifeline to her in a strange new but familiar world. They shared dorms, gossip, study tips. Lily’s intelligence mirrored Hermione’s, Alice’s warmth like Ginny’s. They helped Harriet navigate the era’s quirks- bell-bottoms, Muggle music on magically adapted radios, boys. For the first time in her life, she was free to just be Harrie. A sixteen year old girl who was allowed to talk to her friends about clothes and boys without feeling like the world was sitting atop her shoulders.

Severus entered her orbit in Potions. Paired for a Draught of Peace, their hands brushed over their shared ingredients.

“You’re precise, and you don't handle the ladle like an imbecile” he noted, adding powdered moonstone with exact and economic motions.

“You’re brilliant,” she replied, stirring counterclockwise.

Over the following months, she matched his skill brew for brew, her green eyes- so like Lily’s, yet different- flashed with intelligence, captivating him in a way no other girl had. He remained wary of her- she was still a Gryffindor and friends with people who used to torment him. But he was... intrigued. One evening in the library, as she pored over her notes for advanced ruins, he approached.

“May I sit,” he inquired softly, his voice a low drawl.

Harriet startled, her hand flying to her wand before she saw who it was leaning next to her. “Oh! You startled me Severus. I-uh-yes- yes of course you can sit.”

Study sessions in the library’s quiet calm became their new routine. They pored over ancient tomes and discussed spell crafting, experimental potions and anything else that came to mind. Severus was intense, his knowledge vast, but Harriet drew out his softer side- tales of his Muggle father, his witch mother, the difficulties he faced at Spinner’s End, and in turn she told him about her own childhood. They bonded over pain and heartache; they celebrated each other in their success and commiserated in their failures. He didn’t dwell on his scars, faint lines from potions mishaps or home altercations; they were mere facts, not sources of shame but he often attempted to get her talking about hers. She shared the story about the cursed scar on her hand, since it was impossible to miss and not difficult to guess what happened, but kept the rest of her stories close to her chest.

When she could get away with it, she shared edited truths- orphaned as a baby, abused as a child, differences of education styles in foreign schools- to explain the marks that adorned her skin. “My scars,” she admitted one evening, rolling up her sleeve to show the basilisk mark “They make me feel… ugly.”

He traced it gently with his finger, his eyes showing no revulsion or pity. “They’re part of you. Proof you’re a survivor.”

------

As winter blanketed the grounds, their affection grew. Severus asked Harrie to attend the Yule Ball as his date, his delivery was awkward, but she adored how solemnly sincere he was in that moment that she responded with an entirely over enthusiastic "yes!". They danced under enchanted snow as if they were the only two people in the room, his hand on her waist sending shivers down her spine and the whispered praise “You outshine them all,” made her breath catch in her lungs. They shared their first kiss in the courtyard in front of a tree adorned with real fairy lights.

By spring, love had blossomed. They shared picnics at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, stole kisses in between classes, and studied together every night wherever they could find a quiet spot to be alone. Severus was devoted, his touches were always gentle, his words always poignant and said with complete certainty. Slowly, Severus had become the most important person in her life.

Dumbledore didn't approach her once, other than to wish her good evening or inquire politely about how her studies were going.  She felt free.  

Over the summer she stayed in the castle, she studied and explored. Read to her heart's content and ate like a Queen.  It was the best summer she had ever had. The only thing that was missing was Severus. 

-------

“Come on, Harriet! It's Hogsmeade weekend, let’s shop!” Lily exclaimed one Saturday morning in their seventh year, linking arms with her. Alice nodded enthusiastically, her curly brown hair bouncing.

Harriet like every other seventeen year old girl was just growing into her curves, bony hips making way to soft slopes, breasts developing where once there was absolutely nothing to speak of. Her self-consciousness was only compounded by the numerous scars that littered her body. All of her friends had smooth skin, free from blemishes, they were beautiful. Next to them she just felt... broken. "I hate shopping, you guys should just go without me."

“Nonsense,” Alice said. “We have men to seduce and don't deny it! I know for a fact you have been getting awfully hot and heavy with Sev. You deserve to feel beautiful when you finally go all the way. Now lets go!”

In Hogsmeade, amid the bustling streets lined with shops, they dragged her into Gladrags Wizardwear. Harriet’s eyes widened at the array of robes, but Lily steered her toward a discreet section in the back- lingerie. Delicate fabrics in emerald, crimson, and midnight blue made her heart race with mortification.

“Try this,” Lily urged, holding up a set of black lace lingerie, edged with emerald threads that shimmered like dew on grass. “It’s enchanting- literally. It adjusts to fit perfectly.”

Harriet blushed, her fingers tracing the material. Her scars… they would definitely show in it. But the girls’ encouragement won out. When she looked in the mirror, she didn't recognize herself. The girl staring back at her wasn't the same one she saw this morning. This girl was wild, fierce, she wasn't a girl at all... she was a woman. 'Sev will definitely like it', she thought a bit smugly 'and if he doesn't, he seems to be awfully interested in what's underneath'.

She bought it, hiding it until the perfect night.

---------

One crisp November evening, as snow dusted the grounds, Harriet asked Severus to meet her in the Room of Requirement, she got there early and bid it to manifest as a cozy chamber with a roaring fire, soft rugs, and a four-poster bed draped in emerald silk.

Slipping into the lingerie from Hogsmeade, she adjusted the lace over her curves, her heart pounding from nerves. The black fabric hugged her hips, the bodice dipping low to reveal the tops of her breasts. But as she looked in the mirror, her eyes caught on the scars that she had been able to overlook in the shop- the lightning bolt stark against her pale skin, the stabs and slices adorning her arms, the burns on her thighs peeking from under the hem. The Whomping Willow lashes crisscrossed her back, visible in the mirror’s reflection. She felt exposed, ugly. Would the lingerie distract him? Make him see beauty instead of damage?

The door creaked open, and there he was- tall and lean in his seventh-year robes, his black hair falling like ink over his pale face. His dark eyes widened as they drank her in, a flush creeping up his neck. “Gods Harriet,” he breathed, stepping closer, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “You… the lingerie… it’s lovely. Like a raven's wing on snow.” His gaze roamed hungrily, tracing the lace’s edges, but then softened as it met her eyes. “But you know that it's you, just you, that’s beautiful, no matter what you may be wearing. Beautiful beyond words.”

She bit her lip, self-conscious under his intensity. “Even with my scars?”

“Especially with them,” he murmured, closing the distance. His hands- long and slender- reached for her, cupping her face first. He leaned in, lips brushing the lightning scar on her forehead in a reverent kiss. “This one,” he whispered against her skin, “and this one...” his tongue darted out, tracing the jagged line of the scar left behind by the dragon gently, eliciting a gasp from her as warmth pooled low in her belly.

Harriet’s hands fumbled with his robes, pushing them off his shoulders to reveal his own pale skin- marked by his own difficult life, marks he wore without shame. He shrugged out of his shirt, exposing his lean chest, then pulled her against him, their bodies aligning through the thin barrier of lace. His erection pressed against her tummy, hard and insistent, a testament to his arousal. “Let me show you how beautiful you are,” he said, voice husky with need.

He guided her to the bed, the silk sheets cool beneath her as she lay back. Severus knelt between her legs, his eyes dark pools of worship. Starting at her feet, he kissed the faint burn scars on her calves, his mouth hot and wet, tongue laving each mark as if it were sacred. “These burns,” he murmured, hands sliding up her legs, pulling down the garters with deliberate slowness, “are proof you survived walking through fire,” His fingers traced the scars, massaging gently, while his lips followed, sucking lightly until she arched, a soft moan escaping her.

He traced his mouth higher, pushing her knickers aside just enough to expose the crease of her thigh. A hex scar lay there from the battle at the Ministry, dark and raised- he nipped at it, then soothed with his tongue, his breath hot against her skin. Harriet’s core throbbed, slick gathering as his hands parted her thighs wider. “Severus,” she whimpered, her inexperience making every touch shocking and new.

He looked up, eyes locking with hers. “You’re exquisite.” His mouth descended on the basilisk scar on her arm next, as he shifted to lie beside her. He sucked the twisted flesh into his mouth, teeth grazing lightly, while one hand slipped under the bodice to cup her breast. His thumb circled her nipple, pinching gently until it pebbled. “This scar,” he growled, “is from some kind of beast I assume, and knowing you, you probably bested it in the most dramatic fashion you could come up with. You're so terribly, horrifyingly brave.” His free hand wandered lower, fingers dipping beneath the knickers to find her slick folds. He stroked her clit in slow circles, drawing out her gasps, his own breath ragged as he ground against her hip. No one had ever touched her here; she had barely even had time to do any exploring of her own. The sensation was incredibly intimate, and she was shocked at how quickly he was able to stoke her arousal into an inferno.

Harriet’s hands explored him in return, tracing the lines of his body, wrapping around his length through his trousers. He groaned, thrusting into her palm. “I want you,” she whispered, tugging at his waistband.

With a nod, he stripped fully, his cock springing free- long, veined, flushed with need. Harriet’s eyes widened; this was real, it was definitely going to happen, with Severus Snape, her ex-Potions Professor now seventeen year old boyfriend. He helped her out of the lingerie slowly, worshipping each revealed scar and inch of smooth skin. The bodice slipped away, and he latched onto a faint scar across her ribs, sucking hard enough to leave a mark of his own, his hand kneading her breast, rolling the nipple between fingers slick with her arousal.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he paused, his leaking tip nudging her entrance. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said, voice strained. Both virgins, they navigated with instinct and care. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, her tightness yielding with a sharp sting that made her wince. “Breathe, love,” he soothed, kissing the lightning scar again, his hand coming between them to rub her clit, easing the pain into pleasure slowly. When he reached her barrier he paused, looking into her eyes, bright with discomfort and love, "Ready?"

With a slight grimace she held him closer and wrapped her legs around his trim waist, "don't you dare stop now, Sev."

With a gentle groan he pulled out an inch and then thrust his hips hard, breaking her hymen.  His moan and her hiss of pain mingled in the silence of the room.

As he fully sheathed himself, buried deep, they both stilled, breaths mingling. “So tight… perfect,” he murmured, beginning a gentle rhythm. His mouth found her neck, then trailed to her shoulder, licking and biting as he thrust deeper. His hands roamed everywhere, touching as much of her as he could reach, fingers digging in possessively. Harriet’s legs wrapped tighter around him, urging him on, the initial discomfort blooming into ecstasy and her body began to relax.

He worshipped relentlessly, speaking words of praise directly into her ear. A particularly deep thrust had her crying out his name as his pace began to increase. “So beautiful Harrie, love you so much,” he panted, hips snapping, the wet sounds of their joining filling the room. Harriet clenched around him, climax building out of nowhere, her nails raking his back. Severus brought his hand back between them and began strumming her clit, letting her cries of pleasure act as his guide.

With a cry, she came first, waves crashing as he stroked her through it, his lips crashing to hers, swallowing her cries of pleasure. Severus followed, spilling inside her with a guttural moan, collapsing atop her, spent and sated.

In the afterglow, he kissed her scars once more, softly, not with the intent to incite passion but to assure her of the truth. “You are so painfully beautiful,” he whispered.

And she finally believed him.

Chapter Text

Harriet squirmed against the cold, unyielding leather of the breeding bench in the Room of Requirement. The room had provided them with a full-fledged BDSM dungeon the moment the three of them stepped in. Rough stone walls adorned with dark leather, metal rings bolted into the floor, and shelves stocked with an array of whips, paddles, floggers, and restraints. Dim candlelight from wrought-iron sconces, cast flickering shadows across the space, highlighting a large wooden rack in one corner and a massive four-poster bed draped in black silk sheets in another.

Harrie was positioned perfectly for their use- bent over the padded bench, her wrists tied to the front legs and her ankles strapped wide apart to the back ones. Her knees dug into the soft padding, her arse presented high and vulnerable. Another coarse rope was woven around her long, tangled black hair, pulled tight and secured to a sturdy hook embedded in the ceiling beams above. It forced her head up and her neck arched, preventing her from dropping her gaze or hiding her face. She was naked except for a slim leather collar buckled around her throat, its D-ring jingling faintly with her movements. Her skin prickled in the cool air, her nipples pebbled and aching, her cunt already slick with arousal from the earlier teasing in Remus's office- Sirius’s wandering hands under her jumper and Remus’s whispered commands in her ear.

Remus and Sirius stood in the center of the room, quiet voices barely reaching her ears, both were shirtless, their bodies honed from years of survival. Remus with his network of silvery scars etching across his chest and arms, a testament to his monthly transformations; Sirius with his intricate tattoos that seemed to writhe in the low light, his Azkaban-lean frame now filled out with wiry muscle. They wore only loose black trousers, the fabric straining over their obvious erections. Remus’s face was set in that serious, intense expression, his amber eyes scanning her bound form with predatory focus. Sirius, in contrast, wore a devilish grin, his gray eyes twinkling with playful malice, though his stance radiated pure dominance. They loved her, she knew- fiercely, protectively- but tonight, they owned her.

“Well, well, look what we have here,” Sirius purred, his voice light but laced with command as he strolled closer. He circled the bench slowly, his fingers ghosting over her exposed back, tracing the curve of her spine down to her arse. Harrie shivered at the touch, her body arching instinctively. “Our little Harriet, tied up so pretty, waiting for us to take what’s ours.”

Remus approached from the front, his hand cupping her chin with firm possession, tilting her face up further despite the rope. His thumb brushed her lower lip, parting them slightly. “You’re ours, Harriet. And you’re going to give yourself to us, completely.” His tone was stern, laced with that deep love that made her melt. He leaned in, kissing her possessively, his tongue invading her mouth, mustache soft against her nose, claiming her as his fingers tightened on her jaw.

Harriet moaned into the kiss, her small body straining against the bonds. “Please… I need you.”

Sirius chuckled darkly, his hand sliding between her thighs to cup her mound in a show of possession.. “Oh, you’ll have us, pet. But first, we’re going to warm that arse up.” He positioned himself behind her, while Remus stayed in front, his fingers tightening on her jaw as he stared into her emerald eyes.

Remus leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, claiming kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, his tongue thrusting in to explore, to dominate. Harrie moaned into it, her tongue stroking his, surrendering immediately. As the kiss intensified, Sirius’s hand came down with a sharp crack on her right arse cheek. The sting bloomed instantly, hot and biting, making her jolt against the restraints. The second smack echoed in the room, another sharp sting that made her yelp into Remus’s mouth.

“That’s it, take it,” Remus murmured against her lips, not breaking the kiss. His free hand tangled in her hair, pulling alongside the rope to keep her steady. Sirius spanked her again, harder, alternating cheeks. “You’re going to count them, Harrie. Every single one.”

“One,” Harrie gasped as Sirius’s palm connected again. Remus deepened the kiss, his teeth nipping her lower lip, his tongue fucking her mouth in rhythm with the spanks. Heat was radiating from her bum, her skin reddening, but it was their control she loved, the way they took charge and allowed her to surrender made her drip.

Sirius’s hand rained down steadily- smack, smack, smack. “Two… three… four…” Harrie’s voice broke on each number, her arse burning, tingles spreading towards her cunt. Sirius’s dirty talk flowed like water. “Fuck, your arse is turning such a pretty red, Harrie. You’re dripping already, aren’t you? Our little doll loves being spanked while Remus claims that mouth.”

Remus pulled back slightly to glance behind her, his breath hot on the nape of her neck. “She’s soaking the bench. Keep going, Sirius. Make her feel it.” He kissed her again, rougher, nipping her tongue lightly, then soothed it with a suck. His free hand moved to her breast, kneading the soft flesh, pinching the nipple hard enough to make her gasp. "Keep counting, or we’ll start over.”

Sirius delivered ten more spanks, each one punctuated by Harrie’s counts and moans. By the end, her arse was throbbing, red and hot. Sirius rubbed the sore flesh, his fingers dipping between her legs to tease her slick folds. “Good girl. Now, let’s switch things up.”

They swapped positions seamlessly, like predators coordinating a hunt. Sirius moved to her front, his trousers tented obscenely. Remus took the rear, picking up a thin switch from a nearby rack- a thin, flexible birch rod that he flexed experimentally, the whoosh cutting the air.

Sirius unzipped his trousers to free his thick, veined cock. It sprang out, hard and leaking pre-cum, bobbing tantalizingly close to her lips.

“Open that pretty mouth,” Sirius commanded, his playful tone turning rough as he gripped the base of his shaft. Harrie obeyed, parting her lips wide. He teased the head against her tongue, letting her taste the saltiness, before pushing in slowly.

Just as her mouth enveloped him, the switch whistled down, cracking across her arse in a line of fire. Harrie screamed around Sirius’s cock, the vibration making him groan. “Fuck, yes- scream on my cock, pet.”

Remus wielded the switch with precise, serious strikes, one after another, striping her ass and thighs. Each lash was calculated, not too fast, letting the pain sink in. Sirius thrust deeper into her throat, holding her head steady with one hand on the rope. “Suck it like the cock-hungry slut you are. Yeah, just like that- use your tongue.” He fucked her face in playful, varying rhythms- shallow teases followed by deep plunges that made her gag and drool. “Gag on me, darling. So sweet- your throat’s so tight when that switch lands.”

Harriet’s eyes watered, but she pushed back into the lashes, loving Remus’s stern control, the way he owned her body. “She’s clenching her cunt every time,” Remus said, voice low. “You love this, don’t you, darling? Being our little submissive doll.”

Sirius pulled out briefly, letting her breathe, slapping his wet cock against her cheek. “Beg for more, sweetheart.”

“Please… more,” Harriet panted, her voice small and needy.

The switch landed again and again- while both men watched her skin tremble with rapt attention. Tears streamed down Harrie’s cheeks, mixing with the saliva dripping from her chin. Her cunt ached, empty and needy, the pain from the lashes radiating heat straight to her clit. Remus paused after fourteen, his fingers tracing the welts he'd raised. “Beautiful.”

“Good girl,” Sirius praised, shoving back into her mouth. He face-fucked her harder now, his balls slapping her chin. Remus set the switch aside after a final lash, his hands spreading her ass cheeks. Without warning, he buried his face between her thighs, his tongue lapping hungrily at her clit before plunging into her hole.

Harriet moaned around Sirius’s cock, the vibration drawing a groan from him. “Fuck, Remus, she’s sucking harder.” Remus ate her out ravenously, his fingers digging into her welts as he sucked her clit, then plunged his tongue into her hole. Back and forth he went, sucking her clit hard, then thrusting his tongue inside her, fucking her with it while his fingers dug into her sore ass. “Taste so fucking good,” he growled against her flesh. “So wet from the pain.”

Sirius’s pace quickened, his playful dirty talk turning filthy. “Hear that? Remus is eating your cunt like it’s his last meal. He's so proud of you for being such a needy slut. Don’t you dare come without permission.”

Remus pulled back abruptly, leaving her teetering on the edge. He stood, unzipping his trousers to reveal his long, thick cock, curved upward and throbbing. He rubbed the head against her entrance, coating it in her slick. “Not yet, love. You come on our cocks.”

Remus slammed into her pussy in one brutal thrust. Harrie screamed around Sirius’s cock, her body rocking forward. He gripped her hips bruising the tender skin, pounding into her with serious, relentless force- each thrust bottoming out, his balls slapping her clit. “Feel me deep inside you, Harriet. You’re mine- stretched around my cock.”

They found a rhythm- Remus fucking her pussy hard from behind, Sirius her throat from the front. Harrie’s world narrowed to the cocks invading her, the rope pulling her hair, the bench holding her in place. Saliva and precum dripped from her mouth, her sloppy cunt squelching with each of Remus’s thrusts.

“Fuck, her throat’s so tight,” Sirius panted, his playful grin fading into raw lust. “Swallow around me, pet. Yeah, like that- gag on it.”

Remus’s hands roamed her body, pinching her nipples, slapping her ass lightly to reignite the welts. “You’re ours to breed, Harrie. Imagine us filling you up, pumping you full of cum until you’re dripping.”

After minutes of this brutal pace, they switched. Sirius slid behind her, his cock plunging into her soaked pussy easily. “My turn to wreck this hole,” he said as he grabbed her sore bottom, making her hiss. He fucked her fast and erratic- deep thrusts mixed with shallow teases.

Remus took her mouth, his cock- slick with her arousal- pushing past her lips. “Eyes on me,” he ordered seriously, holding her gaze as he fucked her throat with controlled strokes. “Show me how much you love choking on my cock.”

Sirius pounded her from behind, his balls slapping her clit. “Her little cunt is clutching me so hard- our little doll is so close, aren't you Harrie? What do you think Moony, should we let her come?”

Remus pulled out, stroking himself as he watched her gasp in pleasure, her eyes rolling back. “No, a little longer I think. You can take a little more, can't you love? You're being so good for us.” He slapped her face lightly with his cock, then thrust back in.

They alternated again and again- switching every few minutes to prolong the torment, keeping her on the brink. Remus behind: “Fuck, your cunt’s gripping me like a vice. You want my cum, don’t you?” Sirius in front: “Deep throat it, Harrie. Choke on my cock like the good slut you are.”

Harrie’s body trembled, sweat slicking her skin. The breeding bench creaked under their assault, her restraints biting into her wrists and ankles. Her arse burned, each thrust reigniting the pain.

Finally, after what felt like hours of relentless fucking, Remus growled from behind her, “Come for us, love. Now.” He reached around, rubbing her clit roughly as he hammered into her.

Sirius, in her mouth, thrust deep. “Swallow every drop when I come down your throat.”

Harrie’s orgasm hit like a tidal wave, her pussy spasming around Remus’s cock. She screamed, muffled by Sirius, her body convulsing in the bonds. Remus followed, burying deep and flooding her with hot cum. “Take it all, breed for me.”

Sirius came seconds later, pulling back slightly to shoot ropes of cum into her mouth. “Swallow, pet. Don’t waste a drop.”

Harrie gulped it down, coughing as they both pulled out. Cum leaked from her cunt, dripping onto the bench. They untied her hair first, letting her head drop, then released her limbs. She collapsed onto the bench, spent.

They untied her gently, Remus scooping her small form into his arms, carrying her to the four-poster bed. “You did so well, love,” he murmured, stern tone softening with affection as he laid her down.

Sirius joined, playful kiss on her forehead. “Our perfect darling.” But their eyes burned- they weren’t done.

"Round two,” Sirius said playfully, flipping her onto her back. Remus nodded seriously, spreading her legs. “We’re going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

A blindfold covered her eyes, heightening every touch. “Can’t see us, can you, little doll?” Sirius teased. “Makes you feel us more.”

Remus thrust into her pussy first, possessive and deep. “You’re mine, Harriet.” His strokes were controlled, while Sirius straddled her chest, cock in her mouth. “Suck me, darling,” Sirius said, playful thrusts matching Remus’s rhythm.

They edged her, until she came again, screaming out her release. They repositioned her slowly “On your knees,” Remus ordered, stern but loving. Harriet knelt, small and submissive, licking them clean- first Sirius, then Remus. “Good girl,” Remus praised, possessive hand in her hair.

Back on the bed, Sirius entered her pussy while Remus claimed her arse, stretching her full. “Feel us both, love,” Remus growled. “Ours completely.” Sirius thrust playfully: “So tight with us both inside you, darling.”

They came hard, their come filling her once more. Exhausted, they held her close- Remus's possessive arms around her, Sirius playful whispers in her ear. “We love you,” Remus said into her ear.

Sirius nipped at her neck while Remus cleaned the three of them with a flick of his wand. Helping Harrie up and out of bed, Remus held her steady while Sirius bent to help her get dressed. He got distracted by the sight of their combined spend leaking down her thigh in a lazy stream and ended up licking the cum from out of her well used holes while Remus lazily plucked at her nipples and whispered his love into her neck.

This time when she came it was more of a smolder than an explosion, her body completely wrung out from so much pleasure. Sirus completed his original task before standing and pulling his own clothes on. Remus followed and soon they were leaving the castle through Remus's floo and stepping into the quiet serenity of their bedroom in Grimmauld place.

Chapter Text

The halls of Hogwarts were festooned with evergreen boughs and twinkling fairy lights, but the Yule holidays brought a hush to the castle. Most students had departed for home, leaving the corridors empty save for the occasional appearance of a professor or house-elf. Harriet, at twenty-four, was no longer the wide-eyed girl who had caused mischief of one kind or another throughout these halls. Now, as the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, she carried the weight of her past victories with a quiet confidence. Her messy black hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, her green eyes sharp behind her round glasses, and the lightning bolt scar on her forehead were all that remained from the troubles of her youth.

This Yule, however, Harriet had no intention of lingering in the safety of the castle. For months, she had been corresponding with a reclusive vampire named Viktor Krov, a scholar of ancient dark creatures who lived in the shadowed peaks of the Carpathian Mountains. As a former member of the Auror Corps- a role she had relinquished after the grueling post-war reconstructions- Harriet saw value in bringing real world expertise to her students. Viktor had agreed to a guest lecture come spring, but only if she met him in person to discuss terms. “Trust is earned in the flesh,” his last owl had read, the parchment stained with what she hoped was ink.

She adjusted her woolen cloak against the biting wind as she stepped out of the Portkey’s swirling vortex. The Carpathian Mountains loomed before her, their jagged peaks dusted with fresh snow under a steel-gray sky. She wasn’t alone. Severus had insisted on accompanying her.

------

“Severus,” Harriet said one evening in the staff room, her voice casual as she sipped tea by the fire. “I hear you’re joining my little expedition. Potions ingredients, was it?”

Snape’s dark eyes flicked up from his book, his expression as inscrutable as ever. “Indeed, Potter. “The Carpathians hold many rare ingredients that even your… adventurous spirit might overlook in favor of consorting with the undead. In particular Moonbloom will be plentiful there at this time of year.  It only blooms on the slope of one peak and only ever under a full moon during the Yule. Collecting it would be worth the trip ten times over.”

She smirked, unfazed. “Viktor’s harmless. A scholar, not a monster. Besides, I’ve handled worse than a vampire with a penchant for research.”

“Harmless,” Snape drawled, his voice like silk over steel. "A word rarely associated with creatures who sustain themselves on blood. But by all means, proceed with your foolish optimism. I shall be there to collect the remnants should it fail you.”

Harriet rolled her eyes, but a flicker of warmth stirred in her chest. Snape’s barbs had softened since the war, or perhaps she had learned to read the concern beneath them.

Severus didn’t trust vampires; their kind had a history of violence that rivaled even his own. And Harriet was walking into potential danger yet again. Officially, he would accompany her for rare ingredients. Unofficially, he would ensure she returned alive. She suspected his motives, of course; he had always been protective in his own abrasive way, especially since the war’s end. He’d saved her life more times than she could count, and though they’d clashed as student and teacher, a strange tension had simmered between them in recent years. She chalked it up to mutual respect, nothing more.

----------

They arrived at the base of the mountains two days before Yule, the crisp air biting at their skin as they trudged upward on foot- anti-apparition wards blanketed the higher peaks, a remnant of ancient wizarding conflicts.

The Carpathians were a world unto themselves, jagged peaks cloaked in snow, dense forests of fir and pine covered the sides, lending an eerie feeling to the place. Harriet’s boots crunched through the frost, her wand holstered at her side, while Snape moved with predatory grace, his long cloak billowing behind him dramatically. They spoke little at first, the silence broken only by the occasional spell to clear paths or warm their hands.

By midday, they reached a secluded glen where Viktor was to meet them. The vampire emerged from the shadows of a crumbling ruin, his skin pale as moonlight, eyes a piercing red. He was tall and elegant, dressed in outdated velvet robes, his accent thick with Eastern European inflection.

“Professor Potter,” Viktor greeted, bowing slightly. “A pleasure to meet the Girl Who Lived. And you bring… company?”

Harriet smiled, shaking his cold hand. “The honor’s mine, Viktor. This is Professor Snape,” Harriet introduced, glancing at her companion. Snape’s lip curled in disdain, but he nodded curtly.

Snape stood a few paces back, his black robes swirling in the wind. His dark eyes narrowed at Viktor, and Harriet caught the subtle grip on his wand. “Charmed,” Snape greeted the creature with the barest amount of civility necessary. She shot him a warning glance, but Viktor merely chuckled.

“I sense distrust, Professor Snape. Wise, perhaps, after what your country has been through. But I assure you, my intentions are scholarly.” He handed Harriet a map etched with glowing runes. “The moonbloom grows near the peak of Mount Dracul. But beware- the weather turns treacherous this time of year.”

After a brief discussion- Viktor agreeing in principle to the lecture but needing time to consider- they parted ways. Viktor vanished into the mist, promising to owl her soon. Harriet and Snape began their ascent, following a narrow path winding through dense pine forests. The air grew thinner, the snow deeper, as they climbed. Harriet’s boots crunched rhythmically, her breath forming clouds. “You didn’t have to come, you know,” she said, glancing at Snape. “I could have gathered the flowers for you and clearly Viktor was not a threat.”

Snape’s lips curled. “Your overconfidence is as predictable as it is foolish, Potter. Vampires are not to be trusted, no matter how eloquent their correspondence.”

She laughed lightly. “Jealous, Severus? Or just worried I’d get to chatting with him and forget about your flowers?”

He didn’t respond, but his pace quickened, and Harriet felt a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the exertion. Severus Snape, worried about her? It was almost endearing, in a prickly sort of way.

As dusk fell, the sky darkened ominously. Flurries turned to a blizzard, whipping snow into their faces. They pressed on, searching for the moonbloom glade Viktor had marked. Suddenly, a low rumble echoed from above- an avalanche triggered by the storm’s fury. Harriet’s Auror instincts kicked in; she grabbed Snape’s arm and yanked him toward a cluster of rocks. “Get down!”

The world turned white as snow cascaded down, burying the path and sweeping them off their feet. They tumbled, separated in the chaos. Harriet felt her wand slip from her grasp, lost in the powder. When the world stopped spinning, Harriet groaned, pushing herself up from the snowdrift. Her body ached, but nothing felt broken, coughing and shivering she called “Severus”, her voice hoarse.

“Here,” came his reply, muffled. She found him half-buried nearby, his wand also gone- snapped or buried, it seemed. His face was paler than usual, a gash on his forehead trickling blood. “Potter,” he rasped, his black eyes surveyiong her from head to toe. “Ever the hero.”

“Are you alright?” She helped him free, her hands steady despite the cold seeping into her bones.

“Intact,” he replied curtly, though pain etched his features. His hand bruised across her cheek, wiping blood from the corner of her lip. Fighting the ridiculous blush that was attempting to bloom across her cheeks she looked at the devestation around them. Severus stepped away, turning to look as well, a shiver wracking through him. They searched for their wands, but the snow had claimed them, along with most of their supplies. The storm raged on, visibility near zero.

The path was obliterated, and the storm showed no signs of letting up. “We can’t apparate without wands,” Snape said grimly. “And the cold will kill us before dawn.”

Harriet nodded, her mind racing. Years in the Auror Corps had taught her survival skills beyond magic. “There’s a cabin marked on the map- about a quarter of a mile from here I think, not far. Come on.”

They trudged through the deepening snow, leaning on each other for support. The cabin emerged from the gloom- a small, weathered structure with a sagging roof, half buried but intact. They forced the door open, stumbling inside as the wind slammed it shut behind them. The interior was sparse- a stone hearth, a rickety bed, some dusty shelves- but it offered respite from the wind. Snow piled against the door as soon as it was shut. “We will be snowed in by morning,” Harriet muttered, stamping her feet to warm them. “Could be days before we will be able to get out of here.”

Snape scowled, but his eyes softened as he watched her set to work immediately. “I’ll get a fire going,” she said, kneeling by the hearth. Using flint from her pocket- a non-magical backup she’d carried since her Auror days- she struck sparks onto dry tinder scavenged from the cabin’s corners. Soon, a crackling fire bloomed in the hearth, casting flickering light across the room. Blowing gently, she coaxed flames to life, the warmth leaching into the air slowly.

Severus smirked as he leaned against the wall, an attempt at seeming unaffected by her show of competency against the odds. “Impressive, Potter. One might think you’d forsaken magic entirely.”

She glanced up, smirking. “I have learned over the years that it's never a good idea to rely on magic alone.”

He inclined his head, a rare gesture of approval. “Resourceful as ever.”

They shed their wet outer layers, hanging them by the fire. Harriet in her tunic and trousers, Severus in his shirt and breeches- they sat close, sharing a threadbare blanket from the bed. The storm raged outside, the creaking of snow laden branches and the howling of the wind, the only sounds that dared intrude into their awkward silence. Snow piled against the windows, sealing them in. Hours passed; the storm showed no sign of abating. They shared what food remained- dried rations Harrie always kept in her pockets. After a while it seemed like neither one could stand the silence any longer.

“Tell me,” Severus said eventually, his voice low as they sat by the fire. “Why teaching? After joining the Aurors, one would think you’d crave more… excitement.”

Harriet shrugged, poking the flames. “I did, for a while. But after the war... I thought I needed to be the one to round up what remained of Voldemort's followers. Like I was the one responsible for cleaning up the rest of the mess. Now.. I just want to be happy. This- this makes me happy.” She paused, eyeing him. “And you? Still brewing poisons in the dungeons?”

“Potions,” he corrected with a sneer, though his eyes showed no true offence was taken. “Though given your proficiency I am not surprised you cannot detect the difference. It is after all a pursuit of precision, unlike your chaotic escapades.”

Their banter flowed easier in the isolation, they hadn't spoken like this- so freely without any worries of misunderstandings or the weight of life or death hanging over them- in the entire time they had known one another. As night deepened, the temperature plummeted. The fire dimmed, they had no wood stores to feed it and eventually what little warmth it had managed to generate, died out along with the last of the embers. Shivering, they moved to the bed, piling their cloaks and the bed's meager offerings over top of them.

“We’ll have to share body heat,” Harriet said pragmatically, though her heart raced. Severus hesitated a moment, long enough that she considered taking it back, then nodded, sliding closer. Their bodies pressed close, his arm around her waist her thigh trapped between his, their foreheads pressed together. The contact was electric, every place they touched seemed to light up and heat radiated out from her center.

“Why did you really come?” Harriet asked softly, her green eyes meeting his black ones. A lock of his hair had fallen over his cheek, and she was sorely tempted to brush it away.

“For the ingredients,” he replied, but his voice lacked conviction. She leaned closer, feeling his breath hit her cheeks, her lips. She licked at her bottom lip to see if she could taste him there.

“Liar,” she whispered. “You don’t trust Viktor. You think he’s dangerous.”

Snape’s jaw tightened his eyes on the pink tip of her tongue and the glistening lip it left behind. “Vampires are predators. And you… you charge into danger with no concern for your safety, with no plan, and typically with no means of escape.”

“I have a plan,” she argued, her hand brushing his. “I may not be as detailed as yours, but I mostly always have one. And I can handle myself. Though… it’s nice, having you here.”

Their gazes locked, and something shifted. The tension that had built over years- feelings that had been shoved down so tightly for so long had finally reached the limits of their confinement. They were bursting out at the seems and spilling into her eyes, and his. She could see it all so plainly, in the slope of his brow, the pout of his lips, the sheen in his gaze. It was so much more than respect, or comradery... more than lust even. Snape’s hand cupped her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Harriet,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

She closed the distance, their lips meeting in a kiss that was tentative at first, then fervent, inevitable. It was as if the dam had broken; all the unspoken longing poured out. They loved each other- had for longer than either realized- but in that moment, it was raw need that drove them.

Severus pulled her on top of him, his hands roaming her back with a possessiveness that made her shiver. “Severus,” she gasped as he kissed her neck, his lips hot against her chilled skin. His touch was dominant, guiding her with firm but careful touches, encouraging her hips to roll against his hardening cock, yet there was a softness in his eyes, a passion that took her breath away.

He rolled her beneath him, the blankets coiling around them like a cocoon. His fingers traced her curves, eliciting moans as he undressed her slowly, reverently. “Exquisite,” he whispered, his voice husky as he traced her scars and the curve of her breasts. Harriet arched into him, her hands tangling in his dark hair pulling him down for another heated kiss.

She couldn't seem to catch her breath; Severus was everywhere, in between her legs, caressing her breasts, gripping her arse and pulling her closer, her body was trembling with want and they had barely even begun. He kissed down her neck, nipping lightly, drawing gasps. “Severus… please.”

He lifted himself above her, his gaze intense. “Tell me you want this,” he demanded softly, his firm tone laced with patience and a hint of desperation. She held him in the palm of her hand. One wrong move and everything would unravel.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I want you. So very much.”

He smiled gently and traced his thumb over her cheekbone, savoring the look of love in her eyes. Positioning himself at her opening, he entered her slowly, basking in her overwhelmingly tight heat, a low groan escaping him. “So perfect for me,” he murmured, beginning a rhythm that built into steady thrusts gliding against her most sensitive spot. His hands pinned hers above her head, controlling her desperate groping before he lost himself too soon, and moved his mouth back to her lips, devoruring her mewls of pleasure.

Harriet’s first orgasm came swiftly, waves crashing as he thrust deeper, his pace unyielding. “That’s one,” he whispered into her mouth, his voice husky with approval. “But we’re not done, my love.”

Harriet laughed weakly. “Severus, I… ooohh- slow down, I can't”

“You can,” he encouraged, his tone firm and soothing. “And you will. For me, Harriet.” He shifted, angling to hit that spot inside her directly, his thumb circling her clit with expert precision- rolling it between his fingers, and biting at her neck until she cried out.

The second orgasm built slower, her moans echoing over the wind holing outside. “Beautiful… let go.” Her back arched as she came, her nails digging into his back. He kissed her through it, murmuring praises.

Exhausted, she panted and trembled, “Come for me now… please.”

“Two,” he said, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t relent, his passion fueling hers. He flipped her on her stomach and entered her in one hard thrust, taking her from behind, his body covering hers completely. His hands gripped hers once more, pinning them to the bed, his hips driving into her arse sent sparks through her spine. “Feel me, love. You take my cock so well.” The intensity built, she felt certain she wouldn't be able to reach another peak so soon, but he dipped his thumb into her mouth and in that voice made of smoke and thunder said "suck." She shattered once more, her world narrowing to the feel of him pumping in and out of her cunt and his thumb in her mouth which she suckled on, desperate for the soothing it provided.

“Good girl, that's three. One more. You can take it. You're being so good- so sweet for me” he whispered, dropping his weight and pulling her close, his thumb slipping from her mouth. Harriet was spent, her body trembling. “Can't- no more,” she pleaded, her voice was slurring with desire.

“One more, my love,” he encouraged, his voice tender, cooing into her ear with gentle encouragement. He brought her to her knees and began a slow rocking rhythm. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back onto his cock, at the same time he brought his hips forward. He was relentless, slow and powerful strokes, his touches feather-light, rebuilding the fire within her stick by stick. His thumb, still slick from her mouth began to circle her pucker, putting pressure on it at every pass. She cried out when his thumb dipped into the tight ring of muscle, the sensation foreign and shocking. "Ah! Sev- oh!"

Chuckling he began to pump his thumb in time with his hips, creating a sensation of fullness that felt so scandalous she was rocketed to the precipice of orgasm. "Please! Oh please Sev!"

"That's right, Harriet. I want every ounce of your pleasure. Give it to me. Its mine," his words were a caress down her spine. “Doing so well, perfect girl. Let go for me.” With a passionate surge of his hips, Severus buried his thumb to the hilt in her arse and rubbed his cock through the thin barrier of skin. The sensation was so intimate it brought her over the edge a fourth time, her orgasm ripping through her like the avalanche outside. With a final guttural moan he followed, spilling his seed deep inside her, groaning at the feeling of her cunt milking him dry.

They collapsed together, breaths ragged, bodies entwined under the blanket, sweat cooling rapidly in the drafty room. The wood of the cabin creaking around them, the storm howling through the gaps in the roof slats. Harriet rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat settle into something more sedate. “Severus… I think I’ve loved you for a while,” she admitted quietly.

He stroked her hair, his voice soft. “And I you," he replied, his voice soft and sure. They snuggled close, trapping as much heat between them as they could. Severus managed a wandless heating charm which settled on top of them like an extra blanket, staving off the worst of the chill.

As the night wore on, they talked- of the war, of their lives, of a future that now seemed brighter. The storm would abate eventually, and they’d find their wands and return to Hogwarts. But in the meantime they had plenty to keep them busy.

Days later, back at Hogwarts, Viktor owled his acceptance for the lecture. Snape grumbled about it, but Harriet just smiled and kissed him tenderly. Their secret lingered between them, a promise of more stolen moments.

Chapter Text

The Potions classroom in the bowels of Hogwarts was a realm of perpetual drudgery, where the flickering light of torches danced across damp stone walls and the air was heavy with the sharp tang of simmering ingredients. Rows of cauldrons bubbled softly, releasing wisps of steam that curled into the gloom. Harrie sat at her desk in the middle of the room, her parchment littered with half-hearted notes on Veritaserum, her quill dangling forgotten from her fingers. Her emerald eyes, however, were fixed intently on the figure at the front of the class- Severus Snape.

He stood with his usual poise, one hand resting lightly on the edge of his desk, the other gesturing as he lectured in that low, velvety baritone that sent involuntary shivers down her spine. “The binding agents in Veritaserum must be measured with exact precision,” he drawled, his voice slicing through the quiet of the classroom like a knife through butter. “A single miscalculation, and your potion becomes nothing more than a noxious poison—fatal to both subject and brewer.”

Harriet barely registered the words. Her mind was ensnared by the way he stood: tall and unyielding, his posture a perfect fusion of authority and subtle elegance. His shoulders sloped gently under the weight of his black robes, not broad like a Quidditch player’s but lean and defined, hinting at the wiry strength beneath. She imagined tracing that slope with her fingertips, feeling the taut muscle give way under her touch. In one of her fantasies, she approaches him from behind while he is seated at the desk in his office, her hands sliding over those strong shoulders, tracing the lines of his muscles all the way down his spine, letting her fingers rove over the hills and valleys there. She could almost feel the heat of him, the way his breath would hitch as she pressed her lips to the curve where shoulder met neck, nipping softly until he surrendered.

A flush crept up her cheeks, and she shifted in her seat, her thighs clenching against the growing warmth between them. Snape turned slightly, his lank black hair falling forward to brush his forehead, framing his sharp features in a dark curtain of silk. That hair- slightly slick from the dungeon’s humidity, silky and so terribly alluring-drove her wild. It fell in straight strands, just long enough to graze his shoulders when he left it unbound, which it usually was when he wasn't actively brewing something. Harriet pictured running her fingers through it, gripping it tightly as she tilted his head back, exposing his throat to her kisses. In her mind’s eye, it was splayed across a pillow in his private chambers, disheveled from her hands as she straddled him, riding him slowly while whispering his name. The thought made her pulse quicken; she bit her lip to stifle a soft gasp.

His hands moved as he demonstrated the stirring technique, long and pale, with fingers that tapered elegantly like those of a pianist. Veins stood out faintly on the backs, a roadmap of blue lines and ivory skin. They could be- probably had been- used for so many terrible things, but to Harriet, they were simply a means of delivering pleasure. She fantasized about those hands bound above his head, helpless as she kissed each knuckle, sucked each fingertip into her mouth, tasting the faint residue of potions on his skin. Her imagination went further- those fingers trembling as she guided them to her core, only to pull away, teasing him until he begged. The ache in her lower belly intensified; she rubbed her knees together under the desk, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through her.

Snape paced now, his robes swishing with each measured step. The slope of his chest caught the light as he turned, the fabric of his jacket pulling taught across it. It was a subtle curve, almost vulnerable in its grace. Harriet’s eyes lingered there, her mind wandering to how it would feel under her palm- warm, solid, soft as she massaged it, would it yield under her lips or remain as firm as it looked? In another fantasy, he was tied spread-eagled on his bed, his chest heaving as she trailed kisses along it, her tongue dipping into the hollow of his collarbone. She imagined biting his nipple gently, before trailing her lips to the other marking the pale skin in between, watching a red bloom appear on his pale skin.

And then there were the buttons on his jacket- small, black, and unassuming, yet they captivated her completely. They marched in a precise line from his high collar down to his waist, each one fastened with meticulous care, holding his attire in place like armor. Harriet counted them mentally: one, two, three… down to the twentieth. They gleamed dully in the torchlight, tempting her to undo them. In her imagination, she did just that- slowly, deliberately, her fingers popping each button free while he watched, his dark eyes burning with anticipation. As the jacket parted, revealing the crisp white shirt beneath, she kissed the exposed skin, feeling his chest rise and fall with ragged breaths. The buttons became symbols of his unraveling; with each one undone, he became more hers, more vulnerable.

“Longbottom, if your potion resembles sludge any further, I shall be forced to vanish it,” Snape sneered, leaning over Neville’s cauldron. His nose- hooked and prominent, often the subject of cruel jokes- flared slightly as he inhaled the fumes. To Harriet, it was regal, a defining feature that added to his intensity. She imagined kissing its bridge, nuzzling the tip, feeling it press against her skin as he buried his face between her thighs. The thought made her squirm, her hand twitched toward her lap, but she restrained herself, aware of the class around her.

His eyes swept the room, those obsidian depths that seemed to pierce souls. They landed on her briefly, narrowing in suspicion, and Harriet felt a jolt straight to her core. Those eyes- guarded, controlled and far too often burning with fury directed at her- turned her on more than anything. In her fantasy, they softened under her gaze, widening in ecstasy as she worshipped his body. She pictured him tied down, those eyes pleading as she teased his nipples, pinching the dusky peaks until they hardened, his moans filling the air.

The lecture continued, Snape’s voice falling into a hypnotic rhythm. “The serum extracts truth not through force, but through subtle erosion of will.” His lips, thin and expressive, curled around the words. Harriet stared at them, imagining them parted in gasps, whispering filthy pleas as she stroked his cock- long, veined, hardening under her touch. She fantasized taking him in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head, while her fingers probed lower, finding that sensitive spot inside him. He would come for her- once, spilling hot and thick; twice, his body shuddering; three times, weaker but no less intense; four, a mere dribble; and finally, dry, his cock throbbing painfully with empty waves of pleasure, his voice breaking on her name.

Harriet’s breathing grew shallow, her body responding to the vivid images. She could feel the slickness between her legs, her clit throbbing with need. The way his hair fell as he bent to adjust a flame under a cauldron, the slope of his shoulders as he straightened, his hands clasping behind his back- every detail fueled her arousal. Even his ears, partially hidden by his hair, drew her in; she wanted to suck the lobes, whisper her praise into them.

“Potter!” Snape’s voice cracked like thunder, jolting her back. The class turned to stare as he loomed over her desk, his presence overwhelming. “If your vacant expression is any indication, you’ve got nothing but air in that skull of yours. Explain the role of asphodel in the serum’s stability.”

Harriet stammered a half-correct answer, her cheeks burning. His proximity was intoxicating- the faint scent of herbs and acid clinging to him, the buttons on his jacket mere inches away. She wanted to reach out and trace them, feel the heat of his skin through all that wool. His eyes bored into hers, and for a moment, she wondered if he could read her thoughts, see the explicit fantasies playing out.

"Detention" he spat as he turned away, Harriet’s mind raced back to her dreams. The class dragged on, each minute an eternity. Snape’s stance as he critiqued another student’s work- legs slightly apart, hands clasped- made her imagine spreading those legs wider, tying his ankles, exploring every inch of then with her hands and her mouth. His calves, sinewy under his trousers; his thighs, strong and unyielding; his hips, narrow but powerful.

By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Harriet was a trembling mess. She gathered her books slowly, watching as Snape erased the board with a flick of his wand, his hair falling forward again, his muscles contracting as he reached up.

As she filed out with the others, she cast one last glance back. Snape met her eyes, a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. Harriet smiled inwardly. This fantasy was merely the prelude; soon, she would make it real. In the quiet of the dungeons, she would tie him down, worship every feature that turned her on, and push him to the brink until he orgasmed dry, utterly hers.

The thought carried her through the corridors, her body humming with anticipation.

------

In the shadowed sanctuary of Severus Snape’s private chambers deep within Hogwarts’ dungeons, the air thrummed with anticipation, the only sounds the soft crackle of a dying fire and the faint creak of silken ropes. Severus lay spread-eagled on his four-poster bed, wrists and ankles bound to the carved posts, his lean, pale body taut against the dark velvet sheets. His obsidian eyes, sharp and fathomless, gleamed with a mix of surrender and hunger, fixed on Harrie, who stood at the bed’s edge, her emerald gaze burning with fierce devotion.

They had planned this night extensively, their mutual longing finally laid bare and conversations about consent and safety had all lead to this moment. Harriet, now an eigth-year, had confessed her obsession with every facet of him after the war had ended, during the long months of his recovery in St. Mungos. One night after they had made love in front of the fire in Spinners End, she had whispered her most closely guarded fantasy into his ear. She spoke of her need to tie him up and worship every inch of his body. Severus, ever guarded, had admitted his own longing, a rare vulnerability that set her heart racing. Tonight, they would surrender to it fully, with “elixir” as their safe word- though neither expected to use it, and a potion allowing him a shortened refractory period- which Harriet intended to make through use of.

Harriet, clad in a sheer black slip that clung to her curves, climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips, feeling the heat of his hardening cock beneath her. “You’re mine tonight, Severus,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “Every inch of you. I’m going to make you come undone until you’ve got nothing left.”

His lips parted, a faint smirk tugging at them. “Do your worst, Potter.”

She leaned down, her lips grazing his ear, her breath hot against his skin. “Oh, I will.”

Harriet began at his neck, her tongue tracing the sharp line of his jaw, tasting the faint salt of his skin. She nipped at his pulse point, feeling it throb beneath her lips, and Severus let out a low, rumbling groan, his body shifting against the ropes. Her hands roamed his chest, fingers brushing over old scars, each one a testament to his bravery. She kissed them reverently, her lips soft but insistent, mapping every mark as if claiming them.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her mouth finding his nipple. She swirled her tongue around it, then sucked hard, drawing a sharp hiss from him. His hips bucked, straining against the restraints, but she only smiled, moving to the other nipple, biting just enough to make him gasp.

Her hands slid lower, tracing the ridges of his ribs, the lean planes of his abdomen. She kissed her way down, lingering at the faint trail of dark hair leading to his groin. His cock stood rigid now, leaking at the tip, but Harriet bypassed it, intent on savoring every other part first. She pressed open-mouthed kisses to his Adonis line, sucking marks into the pale skin until it bloomed red. Severus groaned, his head tilting back, dark hair fanning across the pillow.

She moved back up his body, allowing his blood to cool a bit, she wasnt ready for this to be over so soon. She kissed his eyelids gently, her lips brushing the delicate skin, feeling the faint flutter of his lashes. “I have seen these eyes in my dreams so many nights. I would know them anywhere." She traced the faint crow’s feet at their corners, kissing each line as if claiming the years they represented.

Her lips moved to his brow, furrowed from years of scowling, now smoothed in blissful revery. She kissed the deep creases, her fingers threading through his lank, jet-black hair, which fell like silk against the pillow. She buried her nose in it, inhaling the faint scent there, completely unique to him. "So soft" she muttered to herself.

She lingered on his face, her fingers tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones, high and severe, cutting like the edge of a blade. She kissed them reverently, her tongue flicking out to taste the pale, smooth skin. Then, his nose- hooked, prominent, and so kissable. She pressed her lips to its bridge, kissing down its length, nuzzling the tip.

Severus’s breath hitched, his chest rising as she moved to his lips, thin but expressive, capable of sneers and rare, fleeting smiles. She kissed them softly at first, then deeper, tasting the faint bitterness of the coffee he had at dinner, her tongue teasing the seam until he parted them with a low groan.

When she felt his breathing begin to slow once more she moved lower once more. His chest, sparsely haired but toned, drew her once more. She kissed the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse race beneath her lips. His nipples, reddened from her previous attention, hardened under her tongue as she swirled around them, sucking gently until he arched, a soft moan escaping him. “So sensitive,” she teased, pinching one lightly, watching his face contort with pleasure.

Harriet’s hands slid lower, tracing the sharp ridges of his ribs, the faint dip of his abdomen. She kissed the trail of dark hair leading downward, her lips brushing the soft skin just above his groin. His cock begged for attention, but she ignored it, focusing on his hip bones, sharp and prominent. She sucked marks into them, her teeth grazing the skin until it flushed red.

His thighs, sinewy from years of pacing, tensed under her touch. She massaged them, her fingers digging into the firm muscle, kissing the inner skin where it was softest. Even his knees didn’t escape her devotion- she kissed the knobby joints, her tongue flicking over the sensitive backs, making him twitch against the ropes. His calves, lean and strong, received the same reverence, her hands kneading them as she pressed kisses to the hollow of his ankle and the bridge of each foot. Severus squirmed, a mix of discomfort and pleasure in his ragged breaths.

“Harriet…” His voice was rough, a plea for mercy.

“Not yet,” she teased, her hands kneading his thighs, thumbs brushing tantalizingly close to his balls. She kissed along the strong muscles, her tongue flicking out to taste the heat of his sack. She sucked each globe into the hot cavern of her mouth, laving them with her tongue and moaning in delight as she felt them tighten in anticipation.

Finally, her hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking it slowly. Severus’s breath hitched, his eyes half-lidded but fixed on her. She leaned down, her tongue darting out to lap at the pre-cum running down his length. His groan was guttural, his body arching as much as the ropes allowed.

“You taste so good,” she murmured, taking him into her mouth. She sucked him deep, her tongue swirling along the underside, her cheeks hollowing with each bob of her head. Her free hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, when she felt them tighten too much she tugged them down and away from his body. Holding him on the edge of his orgasm.

“Fuck, Harriet,” he growled, his hips jerking.

She hummed around him, the vibration pushing him closer to the edge. Her fingers slipped lower, teasing his perineum, then pressing against his entrance. With a whispered lubrication spell, she eased a finger inside, curling it to find that sensitive spot. Severus’s moan was almost a shout, his body trembling as she worked him relentlessly.

His first orgasm hit hard, his cock pulsing as he spilled into her mouth. Harriet swallowed every drop, milking him until he sagged against the bed, panting. She pulled back, licking her lips with a wicked grin. “That’s one.”

Severus’s chest heaved, his eyes glazed but still burning with want. “Insatiable witch,” he rasped, a faint smile betraying his pleasure.

She gave him no respite, her hands returning to his body, stroking his arms, kissing the insides of his wrists where the ropes bit into his skin. She lavished his chest again, pinching his nipples until they were red and swollen, each touch drawing a shudder from him. His cock, still sensitive, began to harden again under her relentless attention.

Straddling his thigh, she ground against him, her own arousal soaking through her knickers, but this was about him. She kissed his ears, sucking the lobes, whispering, “I’m going to make you come so many times you’ll beg me to stop.”

Her hand found his cock again, stroking him to full mast. She took him into her mouth again, sucking while her fingers- two this time- massaged his prostate. Severus thrashed, his moans echoing off the stone walls with the stimulation to his oversensitive prostate. His second orgasm ripped through him, his seed spilling onto her hand as she pumped him dry.

“Two,” she counted, cleaning them both with a spell.

He was trembling now, sweat beading on his brow, but Harriet was relentless. She kissed his abdomen, her tongue dipping into his navel, her hands soothing his overstimulated skin. She worked her way back to his balls, sucking them gently while her fingers teased his entrance again. His cock twitched, hardening despite the strain.

“Harriet… gods,” he panted, his voice raw.

She rode him next, sinking onto his cock with a moan, her inner walls gripping him tightly. She moved slowly, grinding her clit against his pubic bone, allowing her pleasure to spike unchecked, she knew he wouldn't last long with how overstimulated he was becoming. His third orgasm came with a desperate cry, his body shaking as he filled her, triggering her own release. She collapsed onto him, kissing his sweat-slicked chest.

“Three. How many more times do you think I can make you come my love?”

Severus was a wreck- hair disheveled, skin flushed, breath ragged. But Harriet wasn’t done. She cleaned him again, her hands gentle but unyielding. She used her mouth on his balls, her tongue vibrating with a clever but very naughty charm he had used on her more than once, while her fingers worked his shaft. His fourth orgasm was intense, only a small amount of cum dribbling out as he groaned, his body wracked with shudders.

“Four,” she whispered, stroking his hair and allowing him to sip some water before she continued.

He was barely coherent now, his body oversensitive, but she coaxed him back, her touches soft yet insistent. She kissed every inch of him again- his shoulders, his ribs, the scars on his neck- rebuilding his arousal with agonizing patience. His cock, painfully hard, and chafed from so much friction, throbbed under her gentle touch.

For the fifth, she rode him again, fast and hard, her nails digging into his chest. Severus’s moans were broken, his body straining against the ropes. When he came, it was dry, his cock pulsing with no release, his body convulsing with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He let out a hoarse cry, tears glistening in his eyes.

Harriet released the ropes with a flick of her wand, pulling him into her arms. “You were incredible,” she murmured, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

Severus clung to her, exhausted but sated, a rare vulnerability shining in his eyes. “You’ll be the death of me, Harriet Potter.”

She smiled, curling against him, their bodies entwined in the flickering firelight. “And you’ll love every second of it.”

Chapter Text

Harrie had made a vow that night in the Room of Requirement, as Draco’s memories slipped away like sand through her fingers- she would haunt him. She would never leave him alone, not truly. But the war’s end brought chaos- trials at the Ministry, where Draco stood accused of crimes committed under duress, his Dark Mark damning proof of his supposed allegiances. He avoided Azkaban by a thread- only receiving house arrest at Malfoy Manor for a year, community service in the Ministry’s archives for another year, and a wand monitor placed for the duration. Harrie watched from the galleries, her heart splintering each time his grey eyes skimmed over her without a spark of recognition. She had to wait, biding her time as the wizarding world settled into reconstructive peace. For two agonizing years, she waited. While the world around her began to heal from war- her next battle began.

Draco had survived, scarred by the Dark Mark and the atrocities he’d committed under Voldemort's reign, but he didn’t remember her. Not their stolen kisses, not their desperate love, not the way he’d begged her to erase it all to protect them. But she was going to make him remember. She would do anything in her power to bring him back.

At first, her attempts were subtle, hopeful little nudges. During his parole hearing, she testified on his behalf- as the savior who’d seen his eleventh-hour defection. “Draco was never Voldemort's. He was simply a boy who loved his mother,” she’d said, her eyes locking onto his across the courtroom "I believe he is ready to rejoin society. Ready to make our world better". Afterward, in the crowded halls, she approached him. “Draco, do you remember… anything? Us?”

He’d sneered, his grey eyes cold as steel. “Us? In what realm would there have ever been an 'us'? Piss off Potter, go play hero elsewhere; your pity disgusts me.”

The words stung, but she persisted. She sent owls with small trinkets she hoped would spark a memory- a golden snake bangle he had given her in their fifth-year while they snogged under the Quidditch stands, a scrap of green silk that resembled the sheets from their bed in the Room of Requirement, an Iris in bloom like the one he had tucked behind her ear on a stroll around the far side of the lake. Each returned with scathing notes: “Keep your rubbish.” "I've no interest in whatever pathetic attempt at bonding this is." "Leave me be, Potter." He’d corner her at a Ministry gala, his breath hot with Firewhisky. “What’s this rubbish you’re sending? Think you can seduce me with cheap baubles? You’re nothing but a desperate slag, Potter, clinging to fantasies because no one else wants you.”

That wasn't true of course, many people wanted her. She remained alone because she didn't want any of them. Her heart was already taken. She would never get it back. Potters only ever love once.

Undeterred, she orchestrated “accidental” encounters. In Diagon Alley, she bumped into him outside Flourish and Blotts, spilling books over the cobbled street. “Oops, sorry Draco- sort of reminds you of old times though -eh? It was one of the easiest ways for us to pass notes to each other before we learned that switching spell.”

His laugh was a whipcrack. “Remind me? How could I be reminded of a fantasy? Are you that desperate, Potter? Crawl back to your Weasel; maybe he’ll pity-fuck you.”

Harrie tried words next, cornering him in the Department of Mysteries where he was training to be an Unspeakable. “Draco, please, I need you to remember. We were in love. Sixth year- the war, Voldemort moved into the manor over Yule. You made me obliviate you to protect us.” His laugh was cruel and derisive, nothing like the warm chuckles he used to give her. “Love? With you? I’d sooner fuck a house-elf. You’re lying, inventing stories to feel important. Get out before I hex you.”

She took every opportunity she was presented to try to shake a memory loose. At a Quidditch match fundraiser, she cornered him in the stands. “Draco, think about the stands after our games. The rain… making jokes about your terrible eyesight and my height…remember?”

He’d grabbed her arm, hissing low. “Jokes? With you? You’re mad. I’d laugh at how pathetic you are, throwing yourself at me like a common whore. I have never even liked you- let alone loved you. Leave. Me. Alone.”

Each rejection carved deeper, his words cutting at her soul. She tried the official medical route with potions administered by the mind healers at St. Mungos. She obviously wasn't going to get him to come of his own volition, so she tried her hand at subterfuge. She exploited her fame and influence to bribe the healers into temporarily ignoring their code of ethics and agree to her plan. Draco was summoned in under the guise of a mandatory mental health screening. She hid in an adjoining room with the door cracked while the healers gave him "an experimental potion to help with the lingering effects of the cruciatus curse," when in reality it was a memory enhancing potion designed to unlock blocked memories.  Once she heard him take the treatment she ran to him, unable to hold back any longer. It was clear immediately the potion had failed; he simply laughed in her face "this is truly pathetic now. Merlin Potter, you've really cracked. As for you lot, you'll be hearing from my solicitor."

The weight of carrying their love alone nearly broke her. Nightmares plagued her- his face contorted in hate, Voldemort’s laughter in the background. But her vow held. She haunted him wherever she could, she tried everything she could think of to get him to remember her. The wizarding world whispered, “Potter’s obsessed with Malfoy- poor girl, the war broke her.”

But Harrie knew the truth was buried in his mind, waiting. Tonight, she would go to Malfoy Manor and lay all her cards on the table. This was her last gambit. If she failed tonight, she had no idea what she would do. She needed to force him to face the truth, no matter the cost to her own sanity.

Legilimancy wasn’t her strongest suit- Snape had taught her the basics during the war- but desperate times... and if it meant enduring his hatred and his poisonous words, to pull those fragments back… so be it.

Harriet apparated to the Manor’s gates under cover of night, disillusioned until she slipped inside. The wards parted for her- she could only hope it was a sign that his subconscious recognized her. She found him in the drawing room, sprawled in an armchair, nursing firewhisky by the hearth, his shirt unbuttoned and shadows playing over his sharp features. His eyes narrowed at her intrusion, but curiosity flickered beneath the scorn.

“Potter,” he drawled, not bothering to stand. “Breaking and entering now? How low the mighty have fallen.”

She stepped forward, her resolve steady against his disdain. “Draco, this ends tonight. You have to remember. I am not leaving here until you do.”

He set down his glass; his lip curled in disgust. “Delusional as ever. Get out before I call the Aurors.”

But she didn’t move. Instead, she closed the distance, her hand reaching for his arm. He jerked away, standing abruptly, towering over her just as he always had. That height difference, once an inside joke, now felt like a weapon.

“You’re pathetic, Potter,” he spat, grabbing her wrist roughly. “Always thinking you’re special. Why are you so bloody obsessed with me? What, you fancy a shag with the enemy? Is that it? Come to slum it with the only Death Eater you can get your filthy hands on?”

Her breath hitched. This was what the obliviation had turned the love of her life into. A man wracked with self-loathing and cruelty. But beneath it all, she sensed the fractures, footholds where she could begin her campaign. Despite it all, Draco was a good man. He was her good man. She would make him see it. “If that’s what it takes,” she whispered, “then yes.”

He froze, his grip tightening. Then, with a dark chuckle, he yanked her closer, his free hand fisting in her hair. “You really are a whore for attention, aren’t you? Fine. Let’s see how the Golden Girl likes being treated like the worthless slag you really are.”

Before she could respond, his mouth crashed down on hers- brutal, demanding, nothing like the tender kisses of their past. This was derision, not love. He shoved her against the desk in the corner, papers scattering, his body pinning hers. Harrie gasped as he tore at her robes, buttons popping free, baring her breasts to his lascivious gaze. “On your knees, Potter,” he growled, pushing her down. “Show me what that mouth is good for besides spewing hero bullshit.”

Humiliation burned through her, but she complied, her knees hitting the cold floor. As she fumbled with his belt, her eyes met his- stormy grey, devoid of warmth. Silently, she whispered in her mind: Legilimens.

Images flickered at the edges of his consciousness, faint and fragmented. Her fingers trembled as she freed him, his cock hard and weeping under her touch, proof that even if he didn't remember her- his body did. He gripped her hair, yanking her forward. She pushed deeper into his mind as he gripped her hair, forcing her mouth onto him. “That’s it, slut,” he muttered, thrusting roughly. “Choke on it like the desperate girl you are.”

Harrie gagged, tears streaming as his brutal thrusts slid deeper into her throat, but she held the connection. A memory surfaced- Fourth year, serving detention together in an empty classroom. Draco pinned her against the wall, teasing her about her height for the first time. “Short little thing, aren’t you? Bet I could lift you with one hand.” He tickled her side making her squeal and punch him in the arm. His smirk then had been playful, affectionate. Now, it twisted into something vile as he fucked her mouth harder. “Pathetic. Can’t even take it properly. What would your precious Weasleys think, seeing you like this?”

She pulled another thread- Fifth year, under the Quidditch stands after a match. Rain-soaked, they’d laughed as he lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around him. “See, Malfoy? Can't catch the snitch even when you're on the faster broom. Admit it turns you on.” The memory shimmered, fighting against the obliviate’s seal. Harrie whimpered around his cock, her mind delving further, ignoring the ache in her jaw.

He groaned, fisting her hair. “That’s right, suck me. You’re just a warm hole, Potter- I have never and will never love you.” She was probably imagining the wavering in his voice. The fear that had leached into his eyes, like he was trying to convince himself of his cruel words.

Harrie gulped down air when she was able, drool and precum falling from the corners of her mouth and onto her chest. She allowed him to use her mouth ruthlessly as she plunged further into his mind. Sixth year, in the Room of Requirement- his mouth on her, reverent. “So perfect,” his whispers of love and adoration clashed with his current snarls, “Swallow around me, whore. You’re nothing but a cum-dumpster, thinking I’d ever touch you willingly.”

He groaned as she obeyed him and pulled her up roughly by her hair, throwing her against a settee. “Enough. I want your cunt. Lay down, slut. Spread those legs.” Her skirt hiked up, panties ripped aside. No gentleness, no hesitation- just his fingers probing roughly, testing her wetness. “Fucking soaked,” he sneered. “You like this, don’t you? Being degraded by someone who hates you. Dirty little savior, spreading her legs for anyone who's willing.”

Legilimens. Deeper now. Finding a foothold in the walls of her memory charm. His hands around her waist, his cock buried deep inside her, their first time together. “So tight- so perfect. Like you were made for me.” The contrast made her choke out a sob, her body clenching around his cock as he thrust inside her brutally. He slapped her breast, hard. “Cry all you want, Potter. You’re just a hole to me. A warm, wet cunt for my cock.”

Each word was a lash, but she endured, pulling more. Back to their first time, clumsy and reverent. “I love you, Harrie.” The words echoed in his mind, stirring something behind his eyes. Draco faltered mid-thrust, a flicker of confusion in his rhythm.

“What- what are you doing?” he muttered shaking his head, closing his eyes he broke their connection. He shifted his hold on her, gripping her thighs hard, his fingers bruising, and began pounding into her relentlessly. “Take it, slut. Beg for it.”

“Please,” she moaned, playing the part trying to force his eyes back open. “Fuck me like a whore, Malfoy.” There, his eyes opened a slit, enough. Her mind probed once more- the note in Potions, the dread, his mother's letter. “He’ll use me… if he ever found out about us.”

Draco’s pace grew frantic, his breaths ragged. “You’re nothing,” he panted, hand wrapping around her throat eyes wide with fear. “I am nothing to you.” He squeezed-not enough to seriously harm, but a warning, she could feel his mounting horror. Harrie’s vision spotted, but she pushed further- the bed, green and gold. His whispers, “I love you so much.” The orgasm he’d wrung from her with his mouth, how tightly she had clung to him while they made love for the last time.

He pulled her up to straddle his lap, spreading her wide and forcing her body to rock as he thrust into her from below. The new position caused him to hit every pleasurable spot inside her; she couldn't help it when her head dropped back on her neck and a long moan fell from her lips. Her hands buried themselves in his hair and she gasped when his hand grabbed her chin and forced her face back to his. “Look at me while I ruin you,” he demanded, thrusting deep. Their eyes locked- hers pleading, his feral. Legilimens. The floodgates cracked- “Make me forget, Harrie. Take it out.”

Draco’s face twisted, a gasp escaping. “What- stop that!” But he didn’t pull away, didn't close his eyes, just ground his hips harder into her, like he could fuck the intrusion out. She pulled the final threads- the kiss before the spell, tears mingling. “Obliviate.”

Memories cascaded as the dam broke and Harrie pulled out of his mind quickly, refocusing back on his face as she took it between her hands. Draco’s eyes widened, his body stilling mid-thrust. “Harrie-?”

She clenched around him, her heart tripping over itself. “Remember,” she whispered, tears falling. “Remember us.”

It was likely more instinct than pleasure that had him rolling his hips into her erratically while the barriers in his mind shattered. Fragments of buried memories surged forth, not in a gentle trickle, but in a torrent that crashed through him, resettling in the void where their love had once been. His cock, still buried deep inside her, throbbed as he inadvertently edged himself in her cunt. “H-Harrie…?” The word escaped his lips, not in the sneering drawl he’d wielded like a weapon for two years, but in a hoarse whisper laced with dawning horror and wonder.

Her green eyes, blurred with tears as hope began to crest inside her. Remember, she urged silently, her hips arching to meet his, even as her throat burned from his earlier brutality. “Draco, please… come back to me.”

His hands- moments ago gripping her hips like a vice, bruising her skin in his callous dominance- now trembled against her. A gasp tore from his chest, raw and unfiltered, as the first clear memory pierced the fog- the Room of Requirement, firelight dancing on her skin as he knelt between her thighs, tasting her with reverence. “So perfect… taste so good, love. Want to stay here forever.” The words echoed in his skull, clashing violently with the reality before him- Harrie perched on his lap on the settee, her robes torn, her body marked by his roughness, her face streaked with tears from the pain and humiliation he had put her through. “Whore… slut… filthy cunt.” His own voice reverberated in his mind, a cruel reminder of the man he’d become without her.

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head as if to dislodge the intrusion. But the memories wouldn’t be denied. Shame burned through him, hot and acrid, mingling with a resurgence of that old tenderness. How could he have forgotten? How could he have hurt her like this?

He’d begged her to erase it all- to protect her, to shield their love from being weaponized. And she had, with tears streaming down her face, her wand shaking in her hand. “Obliviate.”

Draco’s body shuddered, his cock still sheathed inside her, pulsing with the remnants of his arousal. Regret crashed first- regret for the years he’d sneered at her, hated her and almost got her killed. Each memory of his cruelty resurfaced, amplified by the love now blooming anew in his heart.

“Oh gods, Harrie,” he choked out, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. His thrusts resumed, but slower now, almost tentative, as if seeking permission in the ruins of who he used to be. “I… I remember. Everything. Your taste- Merlin, the way you whimpered for me. Not like this. Not… fuck, what have I done?” His voice broke, a sob hitching in his throat. Joy flickered amidst the sorrow- a pure, exhilarating rush at reclaiming what he’d lost. She was his again, or rather, she always had been. And even if he hadn't known it, even if he had actively hated her, he had been hers. There had never been anyone else for him. Not even close. Gods had he missed her.

He pulled back slightly, his grey eyes searching her face, tracing the tear tracks, the red marks on her neck from where he’d gripped her. “I called you… those things. Treated you like a whore. My whore.” He’d fucked her mouth until she gagged, slapped her skin until it bloomed red, all while spitting venom about her, her worth. And she’d endured it- for him. To bring him back. A swell of gratitude overwhelmed him, mingling with guilt so profound it made his chest ache. “You haunted me, just like you promised. The letters, the stalking… I thought you were mad. But you were fighting for us. Alone.”

Harrie cupped his face, her thumbs brushing away the tears that now streamed down his cheeks. Her own body trembled, not just from the intensity of their coupling, but from the emotional storm raging between them. “Draco, it’s okay. You protected us. The war… everything… you had no choice.” Her voice was soft, forgiving, but laced with her own sorrow- the weight of carrying their love in solitude for years had been so hard. But on the heels of all the pain and regret was the relief, surging through them both, softening the sting and fueling their lust. They were alive. They were together. Finally.

He moved inside her again, his hips rolling with a newfound gentleness, each thrust a reclamation. “I love you,” he whispered, the words resurfacing from the depths, as natural as breathing. “Fuck, Harrie, I love you so much. Always did. Even when I forgot- even when I hated you.” The admission brought a fresh wave of emotions- elation at speaking the truth aloud, resounding joy at having won against all odds. She’d saved him, pulled him from the abyss with her mind and body, enduring his worst to unearth his best.

Their bodies built toward release together now, as they celebrated their reunion in the best way they knew how. Harrie’s climax crested first, her walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure ripped through her, amplified by the emotional catharsis. “Draco- yes, love you- always,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back. He followed moments later, spilling into her with a guttural cry, his body convulsing as ecstasy intertwined with the resurfacing feelings. Joy exploded in his chest- pure, unadulterated happiness at holding her, knowing her, loving her. There was still so much he needed to process. So many memories he needed to sort through and figure out how he felt about it all. But in this moment. Gods, he could fly.

They collapsed in a tangle of limbs, Draco’s weight pressing her into the settee. Sobs wracked his frame, hot tears soaking her shoulder a mixture of joy and exhaustion weighing him down. “I’m sorry… so fucking sorry. For forgetting, for hurting you. The things I said- the way I used you tonight…” His voice muffled against her skin, raw with remorse.

Harrie held him tightly, her own tears flowing freely. Sorrow for the lost years mingled with overwhelming joy- the boy she loved was back, his eyes warm with recognition, his touch tender. “We made it,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Through the war, the trials, the forgetting. We’re here. You saved me you know, even when you didn't know me, you still lied about recognizing me that day.”

They cried together then, bodies still joined, hearts syncing in shared rhythm. Joy and sorrow danced in equal measure- elation at reunion, anguish at the cost. Regret for his cruelty, gratitude for her persistence. Fear of what might have been, hope for what could be. In that raw, intimate space, their love rebloomed, scarred but resilient.

Draco lifted his head, pressing salty kisses to her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. “Never again,” he vowed, his voice steady despite the tears. “No more forgetting. No more hiding. You’re mine, Harriet Potter- and I’m yours. Forever.”

She smiled through her sobs, pulling him closer. “Forever, Draco. We survived. We did it.”

Chapter Text

In the soft hush of the Hogwarts infirmary, where candlelight danced across ancient stone walls, Harrie Potter lay in a bed draped with crimson velvet. Her raven hair draped down her back like a churning river at midnight, her perfect pink lips parted slightly, dark lashes fanned across the ivory skin of her cheeks. She was the picture of ethereal repose, a heroine struck down not by a Dark Lord’s curse but by the primal will of Mother Magic herself. Three days prior, after the final battle against Voldemort, a surge of wild, ancient magic had erupted, and Harrie had fallen- locked in a slumber that no spell could break. Around her, the infirmary was adorned with roses, gifted by Mother Magic to watch over her charge, their petals enchanted to never wilt, a subtle nod to the briars that once guarded a sleeping princess in a far older tale. It seemed Mother Magic had a sense of humor.

Albus Dumbledore stood at the foot of her bed, his half-moon spectacles glinting in the low light. The gathered crowd- students, professors, and Order members- watched him with bated breath. His voice, usually warm, carried a grave weight. “Mother Magic has spoken,” he said, his eyes lingering on Harrie’s serene face. “Harrie Potter, our savior, lies in an enchanted sleep, a trial set by the very essence of our world. Only one act, ordained by magic itself, can awaken her- a union of passion, the touch of her one true love.”

The room buzzed with murmurs. Hermione clutched Ron's arm, her eyes wide with disbelief. “A union?” she whispered. “You mean…?”

Dumbledore raised a hand, silencing the crowd. “Mother Magic has chosen her champions- those whose hearts and souls resonate with Harrie’s own. They are the ones who must try to wake her. We cannot question her will, only trust it.” His gaze swept the room, landing on six figures who stood apart, their expressions a mix of determination, unease, and something deeper- desire, perhaps, or destiny.

Among them was Tom Riddle, not the withered husk of Voldemort, but a young man in his prime, his features sharp and handsome, his dark hair tousled with youthful vigor. Mother Magic had pulled him from the veil of time, reshaping him as a candidate, his eyes burning with the fire of ambition untainted by decades of darkness and death. Sirius Black, rugged and defiant, leaned against a pillar, the look of fierce determination on his face was tinged with longing. Remus Lupin, ever the quiet scholar, adjusted his tattered robes, his amber eyes soft but resolute. Severus Snape, cloaked in shadow, bore a scowl that barely masked his inner turmoil. Draco Malfoy, pale and sharp-featured, fidgeted with his wand, his arrogance tempered by curiosity. And Fred Weasley, with his roguish grin, stood tall, a spark of mischief in his eyes despite the gravity of the moment.

“They will each have their chance,” Dumbledore continued, his voice steady. “Mother Magic has woven a spell that demands intimacy, a connection of body and soul. Only the one destined to awaken her will succeed.”

The infirmary doors closed with a soft thud, sealing the six men inside alone with Harrie. The roses seemed to pulse with a faint glow, their fragrance filling the air like a spell of their own. The champions exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them. This was no mere task- it was a ritual, a sacred offering to save the girl who had saved them all.

Tom Riddle approached first, his youthful form radiating an aura of magnetic confidence. Mother Magic had brought him here in his prime, his body lean and powerful, unscarred by the horrors he would later inflict. He knelt beside Harrie, his fingers brushing a lock of hair from her face with a gentleness that belied his nature. “You were always mine to challenge, Potter,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue slipping past her parted lips to explore the warmth of her mouth. His hands roamed her body, parting the soft fabric of her robes to reveal the curve of her breasts, pale and perfect in the candlelight. He cupped them firmly, thumbs circling her nipples until they pebbled under his fingers. His touch was deliberate and possessive as he trailed kisses down her neck, he nipped at her collarbone, then lower, taking one nipple into his mouth, suckling with a rhythm that was both precise and demanding. He pressed himself against her, arousal evident in the tightening of his trousers, but Harrie’s lips remained still, her body unyielding.

Harrie’s body may have remained uncooperative, but Tom felt a faint warmth building in his gut that could no longer be delayed. He shed his robes, his erection straining against the confines of his trousers before he freed it, long and veined, pulsing with need. He positioned himself between her thighs, parting them with authoritative hands, his fingers dipping into her folds to find her already slick, as if her sleeping form anticipated his dominance. With a low groan, he entered her slowly, inch by inch, savoring the tight heat that enveloped him. His thrusts were measured at first, deep and rolling, his hips grinding against hers in a bid to stir her soul. He toyed with her clenching heat, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in, his hands gripping her hips to angle her just right. Sweat beaded on his brow as he whispered a litany of commands against her skin, but Harrie’s eyes remained closed, her breath even. Frustrated, Tom climaxed with a shudder, spilling inside her in a final act of possession, but she did not wake. He withdrew, his chest heaving, stepping back with a glare at the others.

Sirius Black was next, his grin wolfish as he sauntered forward giving a cheeky wave to Tom as he passed by. “My turn, Riddle. Let’s see if a bit of passion does the trick.” He sat on the edge of the bed, his calloused fingers tracing the line of Harrie’s jaw before he claimed her mouth in a fierce, hungry kiss, his beard scratching lightly against her skin. “You’re no damsel, pup, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try to wake you like one.” Licking at her lips, he kissed her the way he had always dreamed he would... it was an echo of the reckless love he’d always held for her. He shed his leather jacket, his hands roaming her body, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples until they hardened under his touch.

He kneaded her breasts with passionate squeezes, pinching her nipples between his fingers until they turned red and swollen, then trailed his mouth down, leaving a path of wet, biting kisses across her stomach, marking her with light nips that spoke of his untamed hunger. Whispering a cleansing charm under his breath Sirius positioned himself lower, his breath hot against her core as he parted her folds with his thumbs. He wasn't a stranger to lapping the cum out of a cunt, but he had no desire to taste Tom Riddle's demon semen.

He licked her slowly at first, his tongue flat and broad, lapping at her entrance before flicking her clit with precise, teasing strokes that built to frantic laps, his passion overriding finesse. Harrie’s hips twitched faintly, but she remained asleep. Growling with frustration and arousal, Sirius rose, stripping off his trousers to reveal his thick, heavy cock. He lifted her legs over his shoulders, entering her in one swift, reckless thrust, the angle allowing him to hit deep inside her with forceful abandon. His movements were varied- quick, shallow pumps alternating with long, grinding rolls of his hips, his hands roaming her body, squeezing her thighs and her breasts with possessive fervor. He whispered dirty encouragements, “Come on, Harrie baby, feel me fill this tight little cunt, wake for me,” his voice laced with desperate passion, but her body, though responsive in its wetness, did not stir her from slumber. Sirius came with a roar, pulling out to spill across her stomach in a messy, rebellious release, then stepped back, panting, his lust fading into reluctant defeat.

Remus approached with a tenderness that contrasted the others’ intensity. He sat beside Harrie, his scarred hands trembling as he brushed her cheek. “I’ve always seen you, Harrie,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Even when you wished to disappear.” He kissed her softly, a lover’s kiss, full of yearning. His hands moved with care, his fingers tracing the lines of her body, memorizing it. He kissed her breasts reverently, his tongue swirling around her nipples in slow, lazy circles, her stomach, lapping up the cum Sirius had spilt there, his tongue dipping into her navel. Then lower, as his tongue began exploring her folds with a gentleness that belied his inner beast.

He settled between her legs, his fingers exploring her cunt with a scholar’s precision, dipping in and out of her dripping channel, curling to find that sensitive spot inside her with deliberate, nurturing strokes. He alternated his touch- light feathering on her clit, then firmer pressure, his mouth joining in with soft sucks and nibbles that built and had slick dripping from her pink opening. When he could no longer hold back, he undressed, his cock large, veined and eager, pulsing with restrained desire. Slowly he flipped her onto her stomach and with a spell to hold her, shifted her onto her knees with her head resting on the bed, presenting her holes to him so sweetly. He slid his cock into her cunt in one steady push, his body covering hers protectively, thrusts slow and deep, rocking in a rhythm that mimicked a heartbeat, each movement infused with possession and tenderness. He shifted slightly, rising to his knees and placing his hands around her waist as he began pounding into her, as if claiming his bitch. Harrie’s breath hitched once, but her eyes stayed shut. Remus climaxed with a groan, spilling deep inside her, then withdrew with a sigh, his eyes filled with regret, his gentle nature accepting failure without bitterness.

Draco hesitated, his usual swagger faltering as he approached next, his grey eyes flicking over Harrie’s form with a mix of awe and nervousness. “This is… mad, Potter,” he muttered, his grey eyes flicking over Harrie’s form, moving closer to watch the cum drip from her cunt. There was no denying the heat in his gaze. Flipping her back onto her back he muttered another cleaning charm. He knelt beside her, his fingers brushing her lips before he kissed her, tentative at first, then deeper, as if trying to prove something. His hands explored her body, less confident than the others but no less eager, cupping her breasts, teasing her swollen and tender looking nipples with his teeth before lapping at them with his tongue. He parted her thighs, his fingers slipping inside her, finding her warm and slick despite her sleep. He groaned softly, his own arousal straining against his trousers as he moved against her.

Draco stripped, his cock slender and curved, and positioned himself, entering her with a gasp. His thrusts were erratic at first- fast and shallow, then slowing to deep, deliberate pushes, his hands gripping her waist for leverage. He experimented, pulling her legs wider, grinding his hips in circles to stimulate her clit with his body. “Wake up, damn you,” he hissed, but Harrie remained unmoved. He came with a muffled cry, pulling out to finish on her thigh, stepping back flushed and defeated, his facade cracking slightly.

Fred was next, his grin infectious even in this solemn moment. “Well, Harrie, let’s make this good, yeah?” he said, his voice light but his eyes dark with intent. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her hips, his wand quick to clean her up and prop her into a seated position. “You’re no sleeping princess, but I’ll give you a wake-up call worth remembering.” His kiss was playful, teasing, his tongue dancing with hers as if coaxing her to laugh. His hands roamed freely, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples with just enough pressure to make her body arch instinctively, tickling her sides lightly before turning serious. He pulled the sleeping girl onto his lap and moved his hand between her thighs, his fingers probing her swollen entrance. Sliding two fingers in he began to rub them against her g-spot, his thumb flicking over her clit with quick movements. Harrie's hips began to twitch instinctively, rocking onto his hand. Fred grinned, vanishing his clothes to reveal his lean, freckled frame, his cock hard and ready. He positioned himself at her entrance and lowered her slowly, savoring the warmth of her body. He moved with a grinding pulse deep into her channel, his hips flexing as her head lolled onto his shoulder. He groaned at the feeling of the little puffs of air hitting his neck as he fucked into her vigorously, whispering encouragements as he thrust. “Come on, open those gorgeous eyes, look at me.” He climaxed with a laugh that turned to a groan, spilling inside her as deep as he could get, and pulled away reluctantly, his breath ragged, and his grin fading. “Bugger. Thought I had you there.”

Finally, Severus stepped forward, his dark eyes unreadable, though a flicker of something vulnerable crossed his face. “You’ve always been a thorn in my side, Potter,” he muttered, his voice low and laced with unspoken emotion. He leaned down, his lips brushing hers with surprising tenderness, the kiss deepening into something profound, his tongue coaxing as if pleading for her response, reservation melting into passion. His hands were precise, almost worshipful, as he explored her body, fingers tracing her curves with reverent precision.

Snape kissed every inch of her- her neck, her breasts, suckling her nipples with alternating gentle pulls and firm bites. He moved lower, his tongue delving into her core with expert skill- slow laps with the flat of his tongue, then rapid flicks to her clit with the firm tip, his fingers joining to curl inside her, stroking that inner wall relentlessly. Harrie’s body began to respond more noticeably, her hips shifting faintly, a soft sigh escaping her lips, his soul was reaching for hers- calling to her, demanding a response.

He pulled his stiff length from his trousers, his cock long and thick, throbbing with intense longing, and positioned himself, entering her slowly, inch by inch, his thrusts starting deep and measured, building steadily to a bruising pace, his hips slamming into her with a slap. He claimed her as his own with every thrust into her welcoming heat, pulling out to tease her entrance, then slamming home with intense force once more. His hands roamed, one pinching her nipple with calculated pressure, the other rubbing her clit in tight circles, whispering pleas in her ear- "Need you to open your eyes Potter, please. Look at me." Words of hidden love, regret, and sarcasm-tinged vulnerability flowed from his lips and buried themselves into her hair, his voice breaking with raw feeling. "Can't lose you, not again. Wake up, damn, stubborn girl."

Harrie was definitely responding now, her back arching as if to offer herself to the dour man buried inside her. Leaning back Severus moved his arms under her legs, pulling her hips off the mattress and bent forward once more, folding the sleeping girl in half. The position opened her up in an entirely new way and allowed him to reach new places inside her that had never been touched. Plowing his hips forward once more he resumed his whispered praise "so good for me, sweet, infuriating girl. Wanted you for so long. Going to fuck you full. So fucking tight. I love you, Potter. Do you hear me? I love you. Now. Wake. Up."

The roses around the bed burst into vibrant bloom, thorns retracting as a golden light enveloped Harrie. Her eyes fluttered open, green and alive, locking onto Severus’s. “Snape,” she gasped, her body arching into his as she awoke fully, her hands clutching his shoulders, the connection of his profound emotions breaking the spell.

The other men watched in stunned silence as Snape shifted Harrie once more, wrapping her legs around his waist while he lowered his body on top of hers, kissing her with such passion they all felt the need to avert their eyes. Now with Harrie awake and responsive, her moans filled the room. "Oh, please! Snape- so close! Yes- oh- yes!" She pulled him closer, their union now a dance of mutual passion, her hips meeting his thrusts her hands in his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. The magic surged, and they both crested their peaks together- his release deep inside her, her body clenching around him- the room lit with a beautiful golden glow with the two lovers at the epicenter.

When the light faded, Severus pulled back to allow Harrie to sit up. Helping her to pull her robes over her exposed flesh, she leaned into his chest, letting her head rest on him for support. She was terribly sore and exhausted in a way that made her think she had gone through some terrible ordeal. She looked around, her gaze taking in the six men, their flushed faces, their various states of undress and the looks of barely concealed desire in their eyes. “What… what happened?” she murmured, her body still trembling from their touch.

Dumbledore re-entered then, his eyes twinkling. “Mother Magic has chosen our Savior's Savior. Severus Snape, you have awakened Harrie and fulfilled Mother Magic's will. The world is yours once more Harrie, my dear girl.”

Harrie leaned back away from Snape's supportive frame, though Severus kept a hand on her back, reluctant to let her go so soon after everything. A flush crept up her cheeks when she looked into his eyes and saw such brutally raw love shining there. Glancing back towards the other men she blushed further, knowing what had likely taken place while she had been sleeping, but there was no shame in her eyes- only a fierce gratitude. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steady despite the lingering heat in her body. “All of you.”

The men stepped back, their roles fulfilled, though their eyes lingered on her. The roses began to fade, their petals drifting to the floor like a gentle rain. Harrie looked back to Severus once more, and grabbed his free hand, reaching up to place it on her cheek, she kissed his palm. "You're always saving me. Thank you, my Prince."

With a shared gentle smile their foreheads met, and they shared a moment of joy, Harrie was awake, they were both alive, and ready to face whatever came next.

And somewhere, deep within the magic of Hogwarts, Mother Magic smiled.

The End