Chapter 3
You sit in the armchair in the living room of Snape’s house, book in lap, scouring for information on binding spells and how to break them. If Snape smells like anything, it’s this house, or more specially, this little living room with books from floor to ceiling. The couch smells of musk and mahogany, the books of parchment and herbs - probably from leftover potion ingredients from Snape’s fingers when he holds these books. It’s dimly lit, only the window and lamp in the corner are providing light. That rat hasn’t returned, either, which makes you more at ease than before. The armchair is cold - old, worn leather is its upholstery. There’s a permanent dent in the seat that you’ve sunk into.
Snape left earlier in the day, stating he had business to attend. You’ve showered and are lounging in one of Snape’s dress shirts, much to his objection to you wearing his clothes. You have nothing else to wear.
Close to the evening, he returns, a bag of carry out in his arms. He silently unpacks it and sits it down on the small kitchen table. “Food,” he murmurs. You stay in the arm chair, not feeling hungry. After a beat, Snape looks into the living room, staring at you. You look up over your book, meeting his eyes. “Suit yourself,” he says, then turns his attention to his meal.
You lower your eyes back to your book. “I have no appetite,” you explain. Snape hums in response, not caring too much about it. He is too nonchalant about all of this. Too lackadaisical. He’s probably getting lucky for the first time in ages and thinks you're his little toy now, to use as he pleases.
Frustration creeps through your body, enough for you to slam the book shut and sigh out loud. You have to stand up for yourself. You cannot be passive. You’re used to watching and waiting and formulating a plan after you’ve gathered enough information, but not with this. Not with Snape.
“How is this going to work? The whole going to-“
“I would prefer silence right now,” Snape informs, drinking coffee from his cup. You scoff, standing, striding towards him. You have to act in control. You have to be assertive now, or he’ll treat you like a toddler.
“And I prefer my own free will, but here we fucking are.”
Snape doesn’t move, just glares up at you over the top of his cup. He sits it down gently, then opens a napkin, placing it on his thigh, beginning to eat.
“I’d think you’d be grateful. I saved you from the worst of them. Every other Death Eater is much more sadistic than I am, I can assure you.”
You laugh, wryly, reaching over the table and grabbing the other cup of coffee. “Grateful,” you spit. “Oh, yes, thank you Professor Snape so much for saving me from Death Eaters just so I could be sexually bound to you, another Death Eater.”
Snape sits his cup down, grasping his hands into fists. You take a large gulp of coffee, then lean toward him, placing your hands on the table. “Now, you have the audacity to act like you’re the one inconvenienced? I don’t even have a fucking wand! My Charms apprenticeship is as good as gone! My cat is probably starving! And now, I’m suppose to be some readily available whore for you to fuck as you please!”
Snape rises to his feet, easily towering over you. You back up, and he presses forward, until you’re walking backward. He’s fucking terrifying. When your back becomes flush with the wall, his arms come out to place his hands on each side of your head. He leans down, as cunning as a cat, and leans into your ear.
“Yes, you are a whore for me to fuck…” he murmurs, lips brushing against the skin of your ear. “The Dark Lord insisted I was gifted with one of you. Who was I to refuse?” You press your hands to his chest, trying to shove, but his strength is shocking. He plants his lips around your throat, sucking harshly. “You’re not the type of person to be confrontational. Look at how you fall apart with just a touch,” he whispers. You try to sink away, slide down the wall, but he shoves his knee between your legs. You squeeze your eyes shut and begin to shake.
You only open them when you feel the weight of him lift. You sniffle, bringing your hand up to your eyes to wipe the tears threatening to spill over. Did he anticipate you would react like that? He stares down at you for a long, hard moment, then raises a finger.
“My patience is thin, [last name]. I wouldn’t attempt a little performance like that again, and recommend you behave and be quiet.” You look down, remaining silent. “Sit down. Eat. We will go to your apartment before we leave for Hogwarts. Get prepared.”
You whip your head up at him, looking at him in disbelief. He merely grabs the rest of his food, eating it as he ascends the staircase. Well, that backfired.
Snape transfigures an old blanket into a cloak with a hood for you. It isn’t too shabby, to your surprise. You put it on and watch him shrink the books he’s gathered from his library and shove them into his cloak. Then, he glances at you, hesitates. You watch him reach into his cloak again and produce a handful of wands. Your eyes widen and you immediately step towards him. “Where’d you get those?” you ask.
He holds them above your head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Irrelevant of how I came into possession of these. Do you want one?”
Your eyes begin to glare up at him. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he beckons. You cock your head.
“Yes, please?”
He shakes his head. What does he fucking want you to say. “May I please have one, Professor Snape?” you say, voice going dry. He lowers the wands a bit, but stares at you, wanting something more.
“Master Snape, may I please have a wand, sir?” you ask, voice now shaking, and heat rushing to your face.
He brings the wands down and shoves them into your hands. “You will have to get accustomed to calling me that. Should the Dark Lord or his servants come knocking, you’d get us both into deep trouble if they found you not addressing me to their standards.”
You scramble through the wands, taking each of them into your hand and magically light a candle that is on the coffee table. The first one barely sparks, while the second sends a flame so high, it makes Snape step back. You find a happy median in the Elm wand. It’s around eleven inches and a dark brown color, with a slight bend. Similar to your old one, a bit longer though. It will do.
“How strong are you in apparation?”
You shrug, nodding once. “I could get us to my flat,” you say, confidently. Snape pulls the hood of his cloak up and you do the same. He strides to you and grabs your upper arms with both his hands.
“Don’t splinch me,” he warns.
You hold your wand firmly and shut your eyes, picturing your apartment. A pop, and the world spins - you’re standing in front of the living room fireplace. You pull apart from him, looking around.
“Salem?” you call. A pair of bells jingle and the cat jumps down from the bookshelf, strutting towards you. You pick him up and he immediately starts to purr. “I’m so sorry, boy. I didn’t forget about you,” you murmur, kneeling, holding him close. You pet him for a few minutes, then let him go from your arms, heading back to your bedroom. You grab a small satchel that you enchanted last year for a camping trip. You had put an extension charm on it to easily carry your tent and such. You begin to pack up some clothes and other necessities, trying to be quick so as not to make Snape irritated.
Before you leave, you spend some time enchanting the litter box to self clean every few days, then try the same on a bowl and food bag.
“What are you doing?”
You tense, looking over your shoulder. “I need to make sure my cat is fed and taken care of. I’m not getting rid of him,” you murmur. You’ve had him for seven years now. You try to charm the food bowl again, but the bag falls over. You groan, frustratedly. Snape crouches behind you, exhaling. He raises his wand and the food flies back into the bag, then magically fills the bowl. Your eyes light up hopefully.
“What, a bowl every couple days?” he wonders, boredly. You nod. That should be enough, he doesn’t eat much. He stands, looking around until his eyes land on the clock on the wall.
“We should return at night time, so we can sneak to my chambers without being seen. You… do you have your old school uniform?”
You stare at him, then nod. He strides into the living room and plops down on the couch, shutting his eyes. “You’ll put that on when we leave tonight. We will wait here until then. I do not want to be at my house, not with Pettigrew lurking about.”
You tap your fingers across the kitchen counter, thinking this would be a perfect time to go buy some things. Or go get help. You look at Snape and clear your throat.
“No,” he commands before you can speak. You gape.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“You’d like to go out. To shop. To buy coffee. Or, perhaps, to the Ministry, to tell them all about myself and our little…predicament.”
You glare at him, not responding, utterly shocked into silence. You suppose that was intuition. He opens his eyes slowly, then smirks wickedly. “Why don’t you be useful…and come entertain me?”
You swallow, finding your mouth dry. He sits up and parts his legs, patting his thigh. “Come sit here,” he says, slowly and sultry. You shake your head, turning red.
“Let’s see if this binding spell goes further than just arousal.”
There is a pull on you, something magical and something dark, that urges you towards him. But you stand still, not sure if it’s really anything at all. “Come,” Snape commands, more firmly.
Your feet begin to move on their own accord. The next thing you know, you’re sitting down on Snape’s lap, eyes wide in shock. He places his hands on you immediately, humming pleasantly. You shove his hands down, glaring at him. “Stop it! This is wrong!”
He must see something on your face that’s desperate and possibly even scary. He leans back, away from you. “Get up,” he sighs. You rise to your feet and take a few steps back. You point a finger at him.
“Do not ever command me like that! To do anything!” you breathe, voice laced in anger. He merely stares at you, remaining silent. He could command you to do anything. This is fucking serious. Your free will is at risk. “Okay?!”
Snape holds his hands up, nodding once. “Understood,” he replies, carefully. You lower your hand and turn towards the hallway.
“I’ll be sleeping…” you murmur, trying to calm yourself. “Until we must leave.”
Snape doesn’t reply, but you know he must hear you. You stride back to your room and carefully shut the door, thinking about locking it, but know that Snape is a skilled wizard. He could easily get in.
This just isn’t a binding contract to be a sex slave to a Death Eater, it’s something even more dark. Snape could command you to kill someone. To lie and connive and steal and do dark, terrible things. You have to remind yourself that he isn’t your professor anymore. He’s a Death Eater. A follower of Voldemort, the darkest wizard of your time who is actively rising back up. If you want to survive, you have to play smart until the binding between you two is broken.
Three heavy knocks on your bedroom door wake you up. You sit up quickly, seeing it dark outside of your bedroom window. Time to go. You stand up, stretch, then head to your closet to dig out your old uniform. “[Last name]?”
“I’m changing,” you reply, dryly. You strip down and put on your skirt, shirt, and cardigan, followed by a school cloak with the blue colored Ravenclaw house crest. You didn’t think you’d ever return to Hogwarts. You go to your door and slowly open it, seeing Snape standing there. His dark eyes dart down your body, then back to your face. He merely holds his arm out, wanting to apparate.
“To Hogsmeade. Then, we’ll walk back to the castle. It’s late enough that curfew has taken place-“
“But the Prefects and whatever professors are on duty will be roaming. I know, I’m a former student.”
He inhales through his hooked nose, then nods once. You take his arm and are spun through the room and right behind the Hogshead. The village is quiet, but not silent - it’s a Saturday evening, after all. Snape glances around, down the cobblestone path and up towards the village. “If anyone questions us, you were found out past curfew and are going to detention with me.”
“Okay,” you say. Snape turns on his heel and begins to walk, rather fast, down the path. That will cut through the Forbidden Forest and right to one of the side entrances of the castle. You struggle to keep up with him and his long legs, but manage. You understand he wants to get back unseen, but no one would question him even if they saw the two of you. He’s fucking Professor Snape.
The walk back takes fifteen minutes. You’ve managed to enter the school, pass by the Great Hall, have taken the moving stairwell down, and are already descending the stairs towards the dungeons. When you arrive down beneath, you don’t turn right like you would on your way to potions class. Or even straight to get to the Slytherin common room. Snape looks down the hallways, the only ways to go from the landing of the stairs, then glances to you.
“Come,” he murmurs, withdrawing his wand. He taps the brick wall three times, then steps back. “You will need to learn this,” he instructs. You withdraw your borrowed wand and tap three times like he did. “Opus Viscus,” he chants. You clear your throat and repeat the spell. The bricks begin to give way, moving and sliding until an open archway is formed. You look through, seeing a long hallway.
“Wicked,” you breathe. He walks through and you follow suit. You turn your head behind you to watch the bricks mold back into place. Snape begins to walk down the passageway, that is dimly lit by lanterns hanging from the ceiling. You pass a door on your left, slowing down.
“That’s the bathroom. I am not happy to share it, by the way. I will have to make do for now, given our predicament,” Snape states, annoyingly.
“I’m not happy to share my body either, but here we are, in our own personal hell,” you say, just as annoyed. You hear Snape scoff, disgustedly.
“You will keep your snide comments to yourself, girl.”
You don’t reply back. You already tried to show him your confidence and assertion earlier, you ought not try him again today. Don’t poke the bear, or in this case, the snake. He comes to an arched, dark wooden door, pushing it open. No lock. He strides inside and you slowly enter, looking around. This isn’t his office. You’ve served detention with him during your school years. These are his private chambers.
The main room is large with high ceilings and stone floors. A couch and armchair sit across from each other in front of an unlit fireplace. On the opposite side of the room is a small kitchenette, wall lined with sink and countertop. There’s a small stove and refrigerator, even. Bookshelves line most of the free walls, crammed with more books than he even has at his home. You suppose he’s been teaching here since around your age - he’s lived here practically his entire life. Most of his belongings are likely here.
He takes his cloak off and hangs it on a hook by the door. You walk in further to make room to shut the door behind you, then do the same with your cloak. He glances around, then gestures to the couch. “The couch will do for now. I will clear the spare room tomorrow. We’ll transfigure you a bed, or whatever.”
Snape strides towards the narrow hallway, pointing at the far door. “This is my bedroom. Under no circumstances are you to go in there without me.”
You nod, standing awkwardly, beginning to wring your hands together. You’re learning quickly not to ask questions. Is it the growing fear inside you revolving around cohabitation with a Death Eater? Or the fact that if you don’t listen, bad things are likely to happen? You think of the past few days - how aroused you were and how painful it got after too long. Would he make you suffer when you become aroused again if you disobey? It seems a very likely thing for him to do if you made him angry.
“I…am a clean man. I have never brought a woman in here, however. I’m told that cleanliness for a man can be different for a woman. Are you a clean girl? Or, perhaps a slob? Whatever it is that you are, cleaning charms are enchanted to clean, disinfect, dust and maintain all of the space, including the bathroom. If you want to charm things differently to be more efficient, be my guest.”
You stare at him, wondering if he thinks he’s a dirty person or something. He does have a self loathing aura around him. He’s always looked unhappy and hateful, anyway. “Did my apartment make me seem like a slob?” you wonder, quietly. He furrows his brows immediately.
“No, I am just making it clear… Nevermind.” He gestures to you, eyes darting back and forth between your own. “I understand your plans have been uprooted and taken. I will write you a letter to your Charms apprenticeship when this is over. I will make sure you get a spot.” Oh, is he finally apologizing? He holds a finger up at you. “You ought to be grateful,” he reminds again, “that I was the one to have been bound to you. Don't forget that, girl.”
You look down, nodding again. “I understand, Professor.”
He nods, looking satisfied. “Do not disturb me,” he murmurs, turning towards his bedroom. He comes to a halt as he places his hand on the door. “Unless, of course, you feel compelled.”
He slips into his bedroom and shuts the door. You even hear it lock behind him. This is so weird.
You pull out some pajamas from your bag and step out of Snape’s chambers to walk down the little hallway to the bathroom. When you open it, your jaw falls open. There’s a massive, squared off bathtub that has a fucking enchanted waterfall filling it. It’s steaming, too. There’s two toilets in the corner, half covered by a brick wall. By them, a large vanity with two sinks. You walk over to it, staring at a singular comb and toothbrush sitting on the countertop. You open your bag that’s on your shoulder, reaching inside, feeling around. When you can’t find anything you’re looking for, you use your wand.
“Accio…bathroom supplies?” you chant, unsure. Your toothbrush, shampoos, brushes, makeup bags, deodorant, lotions, and a few other items begin to fly out. You frantically wave your wand as they do, sending them to the counter quickly, to not have them fall on the floor. That bathtub will be nice, if anything, it’s a consolation prize. You’re too anxious to get in now, so you merely change your clothes and brush your teeth, then head back to the living quarters.
You find yourself browsing through books, pulling any off the shelf that might have information on binding spells. You even decide to pull some books on curses, since this seems more like a curse than anything. You sit them around the couches and fireplace, and begin to search through the kitchenette drawers for parchment and a quill. Once you find what you need, you sit down and begin to spend the next few hours researching and leaving notes in each book on any information that may be helpful. You’ve never broken a curse before. Magical beings do it for a profession, though. There must be a way out of this. There must be.
Snape rises early as he always has the next morning. He must do patrols today, which he is not unhappy about for once. At least he doesn’t have to remain here, with you. Your presence here is delicate and fiddlesome. Another battle he must fight. Not only must he watch over Draco Malfoy, tend to Dumbledore’s cursed hand, keep Harry Potter out of trouble, and ensure the Dark Lord continues to trust him, now he’s being forced - compelled - to copulate with you. Barely an adult. His former student. His moral compass is getting real perplexed.
He dresses in his typical garb and deep breathes for a moment before exiting his bedroom. He is always quiet, but he is extra careful as he emerges from the hallway. He sees you on the couch, curled up in your cloak, head resting on one of the cushions. He didn’t even give you proper bedding, he realizes. He’ll clean out the spare room today so you can at least rest properly.
He usually eats in his room on the weekends, but he will go to the Great Hall this morning since you are still asleep. His eyes linger on you. Your face is warm and you're breathing gently. Is this the first peace you’ve gotten in the last week? There couldn’t be much at his house with Pettigrew lurking about. He paces around all of the books you’ve fetched - most titles are pertaining to or, at least could pertain to, binding spells. What a good little bookworm.
Snape silently leaves his chambers, heading upstairs to stop at the Great Hall for cuppa. He slides in through the back entrance, glancing out at the students who are all lively this Sunday morning. Broomsticks in hands, books in others, everyone mingling. They act like Lord Voldemort isn’t back. The Minister was sacked. It was all over the Daily Prophet. Hogwarts is safe, for now, Snape supposes. The students ought to enjoy it before their peace is taken.
Sitting in his typical spot at the teachers tables, he sips on coffee and stares out at the students, watching them mingle. Malfoy is sitting alone at the Slytherin table. What is that boy up to? He finds Potter standing with his broomstick, talking to Weasley, patting his back. Tryouts today, if Snape recalls. Potter seems to be doing fine, given Sirius Black was only just murdered a few months ago.
“Good morning, Severus,” Minerva McGonagall greets. She sits beside him, smiling. Snape nods curtly.
“Morning.”
“You look sickly. Eat,” she commands, starting on her own breakfast. Snape picks up a biscuit, looking at it before taking a bite.
“Don’t you have patrols this evening?” Snape wonders. Evening patrols last until midnight, she still ought to be resting. She nods once, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
“Yes, but I have to go into Hogsmeade this morning. I’ll come back and rest after. Dumbledore informed me that the ghosts have agreed to help watch the grounds at night.”
Snape nods, a little relieved by that. Hogwarts is as protected as it’s ever been, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Not with how Death Eater’s keep rising and expanding in number. Not with how insane the Dark Lord has been with his commands as of late. Gods, he didn’t realize how stressed he’s been until this moment. He needs a calming potion. Instead, he merely occludes the feeling. He can’t be on his toes and completely alert if he begins to be stressed.
Snape bids McGonagall a good day and begins to walk the castle. It’s a boring day, which isn’t a bad thing. Nothing is reported to him during his shift. It’s given him time to scour the restricted section and send books to his chambers. If you or him will find anything, it’ll be with these restricted books. Snape is hesitant to try to break this binding curse between you and him, however.
While Voldemort himself didn’t perform the magic, he could still be notified by the Contractor who did it, as they so called the old man who magically binded you and Snape together. Would he know, somehow? Would he run to Voldemort to tell on Snape? Would killing that old man break it? The Contractor would be difficult to find. Snape couldn’t inquire about the Contractor’s location as it would be easily recognized as Snape looking to break the binding. You’re supposed to be a gift from the Dark Lord. Not something Snape would want to part with so soon.
Snape is on his way back to his chambers when he begins to grow stiff between his legs. He stops, at the landing of the winding staircase that leads to the dungeons. Not so soon. He just fucked you Friday night! He wasn’t compelled, though. Shouldn’t it reset the compulsion? He groans, flexing his fingers in aggravation.
He taps his wand to the brick wall and enters the passageway, slowing his steps as he gets to the door of his chambers. What will you think? That he just wants to use you? Should he try to fight it until you feel aroused again?
He pushes the door open and strides in, letting the door shut behind him. He sees you, reading on the couch, paying no mind to him. He should wait, try to deal with the arousal for a day or two, but you’re here. And, you felt so wonderful around him. The Dark Lord did say to partake in what the other Death Eaters do. He ought to be somewhat dubious with you, so he has memories to show the Dark Lord when he attempts to get into Snape’s mind.
It’s a shame he cannot tell you. But, it will be your greatest protection. Believing Snape is dark and dangerous, believing him a true follower of the Dark Lord. If the Dark Lord decides to ever question either of you, your memories should look as if Snape uses you - in a way that would please the Dark Lord. He is unsure of how much you can truly take sexually, though. He can’t come out and ask. How can he make this seem real - that he is an evil Death Eater sexually using this young woman, his former student.
His former student. For fucks sake, Snape, it’s bloody obvious. He needs to play into this whole teacher - student relationship. Make it seem like he wants to teach you, like it’s his fucking kink. He could definitely instruct you, command you, lead you. You will be obedient. If not now, then eventually.
The Dark Lord would find it believable. Snape has been a teacher for fifteen years now, he could spin this little kink idea. It isn’t like he’s never instructed women during coitus before. Some women want to be told what to do. Maybe you do.
He takes his cloak off and hangs it beside the door like he always does, then slowly paces towards you. You don’t look at him, but you do acknowledge him. “Hello, Professor.”
Snape clears his throat. “[Last name],” he says, when you don’t look at him. You make a little hum noise in the back of your throat. Snape angles himself towards you, grabbing your hand from the book you're holding. He places it on his tenting trousers and you gasp outloud. It makes you drop the book with your free hand. It thuds to the floor. You slowly raise your head and stare at him with wide eyes. You look so innocent - he hates it.
“Already?” you ask, nervously.
“Enough with the books for tonight,” Snape murmurs, pressing deeper, guiding your hand around him. “Have you ever sucked cock?”
You jerk your hand back, gulping, then nod your head. Your cheeks and neck rush with blood, your skin bright red now, clearly embarrassed from his blunt inquiry. “I…I will admit I am not very good…At least, I don’t think I am. I mean, I’ve made men orgasm with my mouth, I think-“ you begin, rambling.
Snape shushes you, then lowers himself down to sit by you. He pulls your hand to his cock again. “I will teach you,” he murmurs, voice an octave deeper. You search his face, but Snape doesn’t give away this little plan of his. “If you’re to properly serve me, you’ll need to be educated in how I like to be pleasured.”
Yes, this is much better than having to shove himself down your throat by force. Much better than actually being cruel. You search his face and seem hesitant, but nod once. “Yes, sir,” you reply, unsure.
Snape leans back and exhales, unbuttoning a few buttons on his frock coat. “Good. Now, kneel.”
You don’t move for a moment, maybe you’re unsure of how to do that. “On your knees, little witch,” he commands, grabbing your arm. He pulls you up and swings you around in front of him, then applies a little pressure to get you to your knees. “Come close, you’ll be using your mouth,” Snape beckons. You place your hands on his thighs and lean forward.
“That’s a good girl,” Snape praises. Your lips part slightly and you breathe shakily. You like that. You like the praise. Snape grabs your hands and brings them up to his belt. “You’ll need to expose my cock if you’re to suck it, correct?” Snape inquires.
You nod, obediently, your shaking hands beginning to undo his trousers. You shove each side of his belt to the side, then unbutton and unzip his trousers. Snape stares down at you, with a small smirk. Call him greedy, evil, or whatever anyone wants to - he’s going to enjoy this. He lifts his hips, staring down intensely at you. You inhale deeply, then grab his pants and underwear and tug them down his thighs. His cock springs up, proudly and weeping. You lean your head close to it, but Snape grabs you by your jaw, keeping you still.
“You want to build up to it,” Snape instructs. “Not too fast, or else it’ll spoil the pleasure. Start with one hand.”
You grab him, flexing your fingers around him. You stare at his length, almost inquisitively. “What?” Snape asks.
“It’s very soft,” you whisper. “Yet, hard,” you add. Snape chuckles, pushing your hair behind your ear, gazing at you. He can’t wait to ruin you. You’re so pure, it’s unreal.
“Stroke it for a bit. Then, use both hands. Use your tongue, spit on it. Then, take it in your mouth, slowly, like it’s a delicious meal.”
You begin to move your hand up and down. Snape leans his head back on the couch, exhaling. Your hand is soft and so delicate. Much better than his large, calloused hand. He shuts his eyes, breathing slowly, enjoying every second of this. You add a second hand, now, and stroke faster and firmer. You’re doing well, so well, that Snape has a hard time believing you’re inexperienced. When your thumb swirls around the weeping tip of him, he inhales sharply, whipping his head down to look at you. You have your thumb in your mouth, licking off the premature release from his cock. What a dirty girl.
“It doesn’t taste bad,” you murmur, then return to his crotch. You place your lips around the head of him, sucking gently. Snape hisses through his teeth and nods.
“Yes,” he breathes, grabbing the back of your head, urging you now. You open your mouth wider to be able to accommodate the size of him. You push your head down him halfway, then choke, so you back off. “Slowly. With ease,” Snape educates.
You obey him, and slowly, you have made your way down. You begin to bob your head, making little noises with your throat. Your mouth feels so wonderful. It’s tight and moist and like heaven. Snape stays leant back, staring at the ceiling, chest beginning to heave. You’re another thing to add to the list of things he hates himself for.
You pull off him, your lips making a popping sound - Snape eyes you immediately. Don’t stop, you stupid girl. “Am I doing alright?” you breathe, wiping your mouth. Snape merely wraps one hand around the back of your head. With the other, he grabs himself and presses against your lips, forcing himself back in your mouth. This time he guides you with his hand - up and down, holding you still as your mouth reaches the base of his cock. Waiting until you're practically squirming to let up.
Snape wants to be greedy - he can’t help it, he’s so close. He grabs each side of your head, chest rising and falling erratically, and he forces your mouth to stay put as he begins to thrust up and into your mouth. You moan against him, sending divine vibrations through him. He groans, nearly there, even though you’re trying hard to pull back. “Stay still!” Snape commands, fucking your face even harder, feeling tears from your eyes splash against his thighs. His orgasm blows through him like a broomstick through the air. Fast, long, enduring. He groans, loudly, beginning to empty himself down your throat. You whimper, trying to push away. “Swallow all of it,” Snape breathes, cruelly.
He hates this has to be you. He should have let you go home with another Death Eater. He wouldn’t feel so fucking ashamed with himself if you had been another girl. He shouldn't be doing this with you - you’re so young, undefiled, barely a graduate. When he’s finished, he pushes you off of him, making you fall back onto your elbows. He quickly rights himself and stands, striding away from you and to the spare room, not wasting a moment to look at you. He shuts the door behind him, pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels utterly disgusted with himself.
He hears you out there, breathing, catching your breath. A moment passes, and he hears you turn the sink on, filling up a glass. You chug it, then collapse onto the couch. “Did I do something wrong?” you call out after a moment. Snape sneers. Are you dense? He just came down your throat.
Once Snape has composed himself, he glances around the spare room, where boxes, an old desk, and an old love seat fill the space. He begins to magically shrink the boxes and send them into the small closet. He takes the desk and aims his wand at it, hesitating. Transfiguration isn’t his strongest suit. He swishes his wand and the desk begins to form quite successfully into a short, four poster bed frame. He levitates it into a corner, then aims his wand at the love seat. At first, instead of a mattress, the loveseat turns into about ten bowling balls. They scatter and roll over the floor, one hitting his foot. He curses beneath his breath, then flicks his wand again. The balls come together and a mattress and two pillows form, flipping up onto the bed frame.
He inhales deeply, then opens the closet, seeing sheets and such stacked neatly at the top. He summons them down with his wand and they fly onto the bed and pillow, making it. This is fine enough for tonight. He opens the door and sees you sitting on the sofa, staring at nothing. “The bedroom is finished,” he murmurs, turning his back to you. “At least, all I’ll be doing for it.”
Snape strides to his bedroom door and slides in, shutting it behind him gently. He can’t even look at you right now. But, he must keep some sort of facade up, should he fool both you and the Dark Lord. He must be cold and commanding towards you, you must continue to think he is a loyal Death Eater.
He strips and lays down in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his mind. Trying to tell himself this is the only way - playing off the teaching fetish whilst being evil towards you. And, if he enjoys himself along the way, who could blame him for it?