Harry woke up in a daze, unsure of where he was or how he’d gotten there. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his blurry vision, finding no success. He felt woozy, and his muscles burned with pain.
Within moments, he realized he was bound to a chair. Straining against the bindings, he noticed how strange they felt. There was no chafing of cloth or cold metal of chains–only a warm force that seemed to vibrate against his struggling limbs. Magic?
A draft of air hit his skin, alerting him very suddenly to his nakedness. He tensed in the chair, fear filling his gut. Footsteps. He heard footsteps. Clicking high heels just beside him.
‘Awake, Mr Potter?’ his professor said softly, his voice cold and mocking.
‘S-snape?’ Harry asked. Memories tugged at the edge of his consciousness. Sneaking out of bed, down into the dungeons, under the cover of his invisibility cloak. Carefully creeping into Snape’s private potions supply storage. Reaching for what he needed for the plan he’d concocted with his friends. Then darkness.
‘Yes, good to see you are in possession of your basic senses,’ Snape hissed. Harry could just make out the slender shape of Snape’s black clad figure in front of him. He tried to understand the situation. Obviously Snape had caught him. Obviously he was in big trouble. But why was he bound and naked? Naked, in front of Snape! Shame filled him and he tried to squeeze his legs together. His embarrassment was met with a derisive snort of laughter. Harry wanted to scream out in rage, but the surreality of the moment left him frozen in fear and confusion.
‘Sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to come to my storeroom to take whatever you want,’ Snape spat in a voice that was barely over a whisper. Harry’s heart was pounding. ‘Always thinking you can just take whatever you want. And everyone just indulges you, don’t they. Spoiled, arrogant brat.’
‘That’s not true!’ Harry erupted, surprising himself.
He heard the slap before he felt it. For such a small man, Snape was stronger than he looked.
‘Isn’t it,’ he said, his voice betraying no exertion or stress. If anything, he sounded amused. ‘Why, what if I were to do the same. Just take whatever I want without regard for other people. I’m sure people wouldn’t look the other way for me like they do for their golden boy.’
Harry felt the fabric of Snape’s robes ghosting over his bare thighs. He inhaled sharply as he felt his professor close in on him. Snape’s hands were on either side of his legs on the chair and his beakish nose was inches from his face. Even without his glasses, Harry could see the malice in his dark eyes.
‘Still, maybe I’ll give it a try for once,’ he whispered, his breath against Harry’s cheek. Harry swallowed. Snape’s thin body was between his legs. His hands crept from the seat of the chair to Harry’s thighs. Harry started to tremble and tried to squirm away. This couldn’t be happening.
Harry yelped when slender fingers grasped his penis. A nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.
‘This won’t do,’ Snape said, his fingers stroking Harry’s penis as if it were a small animal. Harry began struggling anew, trying to shift out of Snape’s hand, panic overriding any rational thought. Snape stayed calm, released him, and turned to take something from a shelf too far for Harry to see clearly.
A hand gripped tightly around his throat. He tried to twist out of the grip, but something cold touched his lips and a liquid poured into his mouth. He coughed against it, but some of the sweet liquid went down his throat.
‘Wh-what the fuck did you give me,’ Harry gasped between coughs. Even as he asked, he started to feel feverish and lightheaded. ‘What… what’s happening to me!? What are you doing!?’ Heat crept down his body. Helpless to stop it, Harry felt himself become painful erect in just a matter of seconds.
Another sniff of laughter from his professor.
‘I’m taking whatever I want.’
Snape was on him again, one hand firmly on his shoulder, nails biting into his flesh. Their bodies were too close together for Harry to see anything, but he heard a zipper and fabric moving.
‘No,’ he protested. ‘No!’ He started rocking in the chair, hoping desperately to topple them both over and prevent Snape from… Harry couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge what Snape was about to do to him. He felt a surge of magic and the chair would no longer move. Once again, Harry squeezed his thighs closed as tightly as they could, hoping Snape couldn’t overpower him and squeeze between them.
He didn’t even try, though. To Harry’s surprise, Snape straddled his lap, his own bare thighs and arse hovering over him and sliding against his erection. To Harry’s horror, pleasure surged through his body.
‘No!’ he cried again, both at Snape and his own body. Blurry as his sight was, he could see Snape’s pale, naked thighs gripping his side. They felt surprisingly smooth and soft. Harry’s body was betraying him.
Snape whispered something that sounded like an incantation before reaching between his thighs to grasp Harry’s now erect penis. Harry struggled and squirmed, but he couldn’t get away, and the chair seemed to be magically stuck to the floor. Tears welled in his eyes. This couldn’t be how he lost his virginity.
‘Please… please, sir! Please don’t do this to me!’ he begged, his voice choked up. ‘I-I’m sorry! I promise I’ll never do anything like this aga-Ah!’
Tight heat engulfed his erection in a single thrust. Harry let out a sob as Snape silently raised himself up before plunging down onto his erection again. Humiliation and pleasure waged a sickening war in Harry’s body and mind as Snape rose and fell again and again and again. Each time, his own modest erection made an audible slap against Harry’s stomach.
Harry wanted to be disgusted, but something about that proof of Snape’s pleasure made him feel good. Even as tears fell from his eyes, he began to push his hips up to meet Snape’s downward thrusts, surrendering himself to that tight, gripping arsehole.
Snape didn’t make a sound throughout the whole horrible thing. Even as his pace started to quicken, he stayed silent. Harry had no warning when hot spurts of semen landed on his belly, and Snape’s arse began clenching down hard in time with those spurts. Harry cried out one more sob as he felt his body betray him one last time, sending gush after gush of his own seed into his hated professor’s body.
Harry woke up in a daze, unsure of where he was or how he’d gotten there. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his blurry vision, finding no success. He felt woozy, and his muscles burned with pain.
With some effort, he sat up in his bed and felt around on his bedside table for his glasses. He put them on and walked to the dorm bathroom, searching his mind for the source of the soreness in his arms and legs. Had he pushed himself too hard during quidditch practice that day? He hardly remembered it.
After he finished peeing, he stopped at the sink to wash his hands and splash some water on his face before heading back to bed. Just before he left the bathroom, though, something strange caught his eye in the mirror. Just under the neck of his t-shirt, a scratch.
He pulled the neck down to reveal scratches on his shoulder. A familiar sick feeling nagged the edge of his mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on what made him feel this way. He must have just scratched himself in his sleep.
After all, he seemed to have a habit of doing that. This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up with a similar mark on his body. With a shrug, he walked back to his bed. He’d just have to be more conscious of cutting his nails in the future.