Fantasies

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 20:19:30 GMT

Harry knew that breaking into Snape’s office would be risky, even with his cloak, but he was also sure that the sneaky git was hiding something. The professor’s quarters were nicer than he had expected, sparsely furnished with fine old pieces upholstered in heavy green brocade and wood polished to a soft glow. When the search led him to the bedroom, he was struck by the sheer size of the bed; it was enormous, dwarfing everything else in the room, despite the fact that it could not have possibly ever had more than one occupant. Harry shuddered at the thought of anyone being attracted to Snape, who was easily the single most undesirable man he had ever met. These last years Harry had given a lot of consideration to whether, and which, men were attractive to him; the wizarding world lacked the homophobia that preoccupied Muggles, maybe because wizards’ reproduction wasn’t dependent on a heterosexual relationship. Whatever the reason, many of his friends were interested in both sexes, and Harry was slowly discovering that he was, as well. No matter, he said to himself, this had nothing to do with sex. It was all, and only, about finding out what the sneaky Potions Master was up to. He hadn’t found anything more revealing than a vial of a slick, gelled substance next to the professor’s bed. Probably put the stuff in his hair, Harry somewhat desperately decided, pushing away his suspicions about its actual use. Reality started to dawn on the lurking 16-year old, he could search every knothole in these quarters, but he wasn’t going to find anything.

Severus trudged wearily down the dungeon corridors toward his rooms, going over in his mind the events of the day. Out of many dozens of students, he currently had only two who showed any real aptitude for potions, and both were Ravenclaws. His Slytherins were disappointing him, they behaved foolishly in class and several of them were talking openly about joining the Death Eaters. It wasn’t a lack of talent or intellect; he knew that quite a few of them could easily be at the top of their class, if they put in the effort. He stood for a moment before his door, scowling at his shoes and wondering what he could do to spur his house to the glory they ought to have embraced as Slytherins. Unfortunately, he had many more pressing matters to attend to, his work for the Order and his duty to Albus being chief among them. Draco and his cronies would just have to straighten themselves out on their own. He grumbled the password and stepped through the door, barely making it to his favorite chair before collapsing, physically exhausted and tired of never-ending obligations and disappointments. With a clipped word and a wave of his wand, he summoned a goblet and his favorite bottle of Dragon’s Blood Port, sinking into his drink almost as heavily as he’d sunk into his seat. As the heat of the alcohol burned down his throat, he thanked whatever gods may exist that this was a Hogsmeade weekend and the castle would be nearly empty for the better part of two days.

Harry panicked as he heard Snape storming into his chambers, clapping a hand over his suddenly dry mouth and trying to think of some way he could get out without being caught. Of all the places to be found trespassing, this was the worst, and if Snape caught him here he was doomed to a painful and lingering death. There was only one way out, through the front door that was now effectively guarded by Hogwarts’ most feared professor; Harry considered just for a second whether he would be better off just coming out and admitting his snooping, then dismissed the idea as suicide and went back to brainstorming a way out. He could wait until the professor was asleep, he thought as he peered out the bedroom door. Or he could wait until Snape drank himself into a stupor, as he appeared to be attempting to do, with all that wine. Harry was considering his options for surviving the night when he saw Snape’s hand extend over the side table and set down the goblet. A moment later, Snape moaned languidly, causing the hair on Harry’s neck to stand on end; he would never admit that the effect wasn’t wholly confined to his hair, and he told himself that his blushing was nothing more than horror and embarrassment at being stuck in this situation. Harry was transfixed as he tried to imagine what was happening on the other side of that chair, then quickly admonished himself for his curiosity and tried to drive the images out of his head. This wasn’t happening.

Severus just wanted to relax and ease some of the day’s stresses, that was all. He wasn’t particularly excited, just needing to blow off some steam before sleep, and this was the fastest way he knew to do it. In his mind, he ran through the various possible subjects of his fantasy, settling on one who was both harmless and unattainable. He set down his drink and took matters in hand, determined to get himself off as quickly and efficiently as possible, then shower and topple into bed. It was sad, he reflected as he fumbled with his many buttons, that he was no longer a teenage boy capable of completing this task in a minute or two; some things were infinitely simpler when you were too young to realize the value of simplicity. In his mind a figure appeared before him, lithe and sensuous, sliding long and nimble fingers over soft pink flesh. When those fingers reached out and caressed his own pale skin, he gasped a name, thinking nothing of speaking intimacies into the empty room. Nobody would be roaming the dungeons tonight, and even if someone were standing outside his door, they would not have heard the hoarse exclamations of the man inside.

Harry nearly fell down when he heard what was sure was, “Poppy,” and the creepy old git gasped like a fawning virgin. This was going to make such a good story for Ron and ‘Mione when he finally got back to Gryffindor Tower, they would absolutely die laughing at Snape’s bizarre choice of fantasy lovers. Other than telling his closest friends, he would not spread the tale, because Nurse Pomfrey would probably be mortified to discover that she was the object of Snape’s fantasies; she had always been very nice to everyone and did not deserve to hear something so horrible. Horrible, indeed, a voice at the back of his mind scolded him, no more horrible than being excited by these vulgar cries. Ignoring the scolding voice, Harry continued to listen to Snape’s low murmurs of pleasure, his escape plans all but forgotten in his fascination. Other students were always so discrete, so secretive about things like this, it was riveting to hear someone just let go without worries about being heard or caught out. The professor’s breaths were coming faster and more ragged now; Harry recognized the sound from his own experimentation, Snape was close to finishing. Stilling the hand that kept slipping down to the front of his trousers, Harry listened intently, waiting for the catch in breathing that would signal the end. Instead of a quiet catch, Snape cried out again, and it was all Harry could do to keep himself from screaming. He had to grab onto the doorframe just to keep from falling over, Snape could not have said what he thought he heard, it wasn’t… it just wasn’t possible! Oh, Merlin, not possible. His heart pounded as adrenaline flooded his body and panic set in; he was trapped in here with Snape.

“Gods! Oh gods… Potter!” Snape howled as his whole body tensed, shook and then went limp. Nothing else relaxed him quite so well, he mused, as quieting the bothersome biological imperative. Now he could sleep without worrying about nightmares or tossing about all night, never mind the disturbing nature of his fantasies, nobody would ever know his private thoughts and no harm was done. He would think no more on it. As he rose to finish the job of undressing, he heard a noise from his bedroom, a rough sighing sound like dry leaves being whipped around. It must be Filch’s mangy cat, he decided, this was not the first time the sneaky beast had gotten into his rooms. He entered his bedroom fully expecting to find Mrs. Norris skulking under the bed, instead running into something unfamiliar that dropped to the stone floor with a breathless grunt. As the cloak fell away, Snape was horrified to see Harry Potter sprawled across his bedroom floor, hyperventilating and flushed. His first impulse to berate the trespassing student was stayed by the realization that he had just been panting Potter’s name a moment ago, no wonder the boy was in a panic, he must have heard the whole thing. Worse yet, he may well have seen the whole thing. He lowered his gaze to the pretty, trembling creature at his feet, and could not fail to notice the rather obvious evidence that terror was not all Mr. Potter was feeling. He tried, and failed, to suppress a smirk at the fact that he had elicited such a response.

Harry had no time to get out of the way when he realized that Snape was about to run straight into him. He was knocked down, revealed and caught in the act; he stared up at the professor for a moment before averting his eyes and wishing that he could just disappear, or at least that his insistent erection would do so. He waited for the stream of epithets to begin, for points to be taken and punishments to be meted out, waited to hear that this was the act that would finally see him expelled and sent back to live under the Dursleys’ thumbs. He waited, but nothing happened, he was neither hexed out of existence nor even verbally abused. What the hell? Harry dared to look up, to look into the face of a very conflicted Professor Snape, whose open mouth seemed to have stopped just short of saying something. He had never known Snape to be rendered speechless, but he found that he didn’t much like it, that penetrating gaze was even more disturbing when its owner was mute. He could think of no way to get out of here, nothing he could say or do that would break the suffocating, awkward moment. Snape would have to act first.

Severus could not move or speak in his horror and confusion. He waited for the boy to say something, to call him a pervert or threaten to tell Albus that he was having fantasies about a student, perhaps even to cast some awful hex in retribution. He waited, but Potter didn’t move a muscle. The fact that he was half-naked was totally forgotten, until he noticed Potter’s eyes drift downward, then quickly back up again. He slowly blanched, still fixed to the spot, and attempted to say something. His tongue would not cooperate. This is why fantasies are meant to remain fantasies, he thought absently. The real-world Harry Potter would not crawl over to touch him, would not welcome his attentions or respond to his desire. There was no good way out of this situation, without sacrificing one or both of them to an Obliviate spell, and that was not an option.

There is no way out, they thought, each transfixed by the other.

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 05:50:42 GMT

That's right, I'm old... but still immature. For the record, I don't eat those, they make me a little sick. I just love the pathetic look of a tacky Hostess cupcake with a little birthday candle in it, it sums up ideally how crappy my birthdays usually are. But this year, I am actually going to have company, my lovely new friend (who will keep his pants on this time, I hope *blushes*), as well as a nice gathering of friends at Red Robin tomorrow evening. So, all in all, not a bad birthday. I'd still rather be spending the day at work, with all the people I miss there, but sadly that hasn't been resolved yet. Seeing all my pretty boys will be fun, though.

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Wed, 18 May 2005 06:52:31 GMT

Well, here you are. Sadly, I have had to F-lock every single entry (other than this one) and more or less abandon this journal. You may thank certain colleages of mine for that. I have moved on, though nearly three years' journal entries remain here for those who choose to become friends, if you are interested. I do still post here occasionally, though not as often as I used to do. I have a new journal now, one which I will jealously guard from those untrustworthy individuals who rendered this one obsolete.

First Unanimous Church of the Invincible Dawn

Fantasies

Initial Message