October '97, Part I
Danica Malfoy was glaring at Harry Potter, flying carelessly in the sky, doing maneuvers on his broom, acting as if he was just an innocent student, instead of a dangerous dark wizard. None of the fools around her saw who he really was, what power and cruelty he possessed. Only she knew. He didn't even require a broom to fly, a feat she only knew the Dark Lady to achieve. But he was cunning, and kept the pretense of a normal student, a child of the light.
Her groin was still sore from the instance two days ago, after Muggle Studies with Professor Travers, where he grabbed her in a corridor, shoved her into a disused classroom, and used her up like she was a cumrag. All because she whispered some joke about muggles in class.
It was a soreness twined with a hint of arousal, something that pissed her off to no end. A part of her mind, one that she fought to suppress, couldn't ignore that she derived sick pleasure from being treated to such raw, powerful fucking from this charismatic and attractive wizard, being transformed into an instrument of pure sex and taken without regard to feelings, without care, without judgement.
That wasn't the only time he had disciplined her, of course. He had trained her several times a week, made sure she knew exactly what she was, and how to pleasure him. At first, she just went through the motions, terrified of the power he held over her, but as the training sessions progressed, she began enjoying it more and more.
Sometimes he attached a chain to her choker and used it to control her body, like a dog, while fucking her from behind. He would yank it and make her choke again and again until she would repeat that she was nothing but Potter breeding stock.
He was changing her. Despite the damage to her self-esteem, the experience, and the dark secret that came with it, made her feel so much sexier. So wild, primal and free. Free from all the prim restrictions that her upbringing forced on her. She was no longer Danica Malfoy, the pretty and snooty rich girl that turned to her mummy for every problem she faced, but something completely different, something new and unpredictable. Potter shattered those restrictions, and forced her into a position of mindless depravity, one that regularly sent her into explosive orgasms.
It was strange to discover the true face behind the mask of this peculiar, powerful wizard, after thinking she knew him for so long. He used to be a quiet, distant boy, with his head in the clouds or buried in books, usually barely responding to her taunts when they met on the quidditch pitch as rival seekers, but apparently, the violent death of his parents changed him. He joined that stupid Dumbledore's Army, and supposedly got so proficient in duelling that he managed to defeat several experienced Death Eaters.
And much more than that...
What he did to her was Dark, Darker than anything her mother ever did, or anything that Professor Selwyn taught them. She never, in a hundred years, expected him to create something that was used in the past by sorcerers of grim legends to enslave followers. He could be the next Dark Lord, for all she knew, one with no less potential than the Dark Lady. Instead of a mark, he bound her neck in a choker.
She could barely hold herself from sneering angrily whenever someone complimented her new accessory. Several girls had, in fact, started to wear similar ones, the stupid bints. It did look good on her, emphasizing her pale, rigid beauty, but it made her feel lesser than a flobberworm. A constant reminder of her master.
Her master...
She hated him and loved him at the same time. Hated him for the wreck he had turned her to. Loved him for the wild creature he had made of her. Hated and loved him for making her cum like no one else could. Loved and hated him for making her feel euphoric and hot in his arms.
More than all, she hated herself for wanting to satisfy him and gain his approval, wanting him to love her so badly. She never felt that way towards any other boy. None of them held a candle to his blazing presence, none of them ever held her in his arms like he owned her, and controlled her like it was completely natural.
She never thought she would like being subordinate, but it simply felt right. She knew now, with every fiber of her being, that he was better than her, and her natural place was beneath him. Serving him.
In truth, she started feeling this way about him even before that fateful detention. Immediately after that altercation in the hallway, where he mocked her, put her body under his control, and made her kiss his and his sister's shoes, she was disturbed at how she felt attracted to him all of a sudden. That display of confidence and power was absolutely mesmerizing, beautiful, like no one that she has ever seen. For a few minutes in class, she even let her mind drift to how unfortunate it would be if he would put her under the curse again and made her do certain things with her body that her parents would definitely not approve of.
It made her even angrier, and her plan was to put him under the Imperius and do the opposite to him - explore his body, control it, use it, humiliate it - but he shrugged off her Unforgivable without a second thought, and gave her the most emotionally intense experience she has ever felt. When she left Selwyn's office, she felt truly alive for the first time. it seemed she was fated to be underneath him.
She thought back to the classroom two days ago, how he pushed her down on a desk, with her chest up, and pried her legs wide open, before pinning her down and filling her up. It felt amazing, divine, and depraved all at the same time. When his cock filled her she simply felt whole, complete, and at home. Just the memory of it caused a warm tingle between her legs that begged for more, and she subconsciously sent her hand down there for relief, while watching him evade bludgers with arrogant ease.
Playing as seeker for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team wasn't exactly in Harry's plans for this year, but he supposed that, if it was required in order to blend in, it wouldn't be too bad.
How wrong he was. Marcia Flint, the new flying instructor, was appointed as referee, and did all she could to help Slytherin's team. Never before Harry had played a match with such a number of fouls, and they all went ignored by the butterfaced whore that Snape added to the staff. Slytherin was in the lead, and if Harry wasn't going to catch the snitch soon, they would win either way.
The rival team seemed to realize it as well, since their beaters ramped up the number of bludgers sent towards him. He expertly dodged them (something that the new commentator didn't see fit to mention), and looked frantically for the snitch. There! A gold flutter near the Slytherin hoops caught his eye, and he accelerated to full speed, the old thrill of the hunt flaring up in him.
"Seems like Potter's seen the snitch... Ravenclaw must be getting desperate... Harper's heading the same way..."
He dodged a bludger by a few inches, and did a barrel roll to avoid another, heading for the snitch, when suddenly he felt a sensation that he hadn't experienced in six years. His broom began shaking and bucking wildly, like a bull doing its best to throw a rider off its back. A jinx, he realized immediately. He looked to his left and right to figure out the source, but all spectators sat too far to see the movement of their lips.
Reluctantly, he slowed down, and cast a Shield charm on the broom. The bucking stopped immediately, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Just then, a bludger came and hit him right in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
"Ooorgh," Harry groaned in pain, clinging to his suddenly falling broomstick by instinct. He struggled to breathe and to balance his broom in the air while still thinking about catching the snitch. He came to a halt several feet away from the ground and looked up, but it was too late. Harper beat him to it. Again.
"SLYTHERIN WINS!" shouted the announcer. "Harper catches the snitch while Potter catches a bludger to the stomach! He really didn't see that one coming. Maybe he should get new glasses..."
"They cheated!" Ravenclaw chaser Mika Corner yelled. "They jinxed his broom!"
"I saw no such thing, Potter is just a spaz in the air," Flint said, sporting a shit-eating grin, while shaking hands with Harper and patting her on the back. The Ravenclaw crowd booed, but were drowned by the cacophony of cheers from Slytherin.
Harry's teammates began landing beside him, cursing and groaning, while Harry took deep breaths to stop his overwhelming rage.
"Everything's alright, mate?" asked Lysander Turpin, stepping closer with a look of concern.
"Just dandy," Harry bit, spitting out a bit of blood.
A broken rib just came with the territory.
I'm going to find whoever jinxed me and kill him, he thought again and again as he was escorted to the hospital wing on his broom.
"Back again, Mister Potter?" Mister Pomfrey said, his deep voice slightly amused.
"Oh yeah, I just missed you so much, I decided to crack a rib," Harry said, scrunching his nose.
"Enjoy my hospitality, then. I believe you're going to have to stay the night," the healer smiled.
"Wonderful. Your beds are so much more comfortable than… wait, why are your beds less comfortable than the ones in our dorms?"
"A hard mattress is better suited for the healing process."
"Of course," he mumbled miserably. He didn't mind the broken rib or the infirmary stay as much as he hated being brought down in front of the whole school. Someone jinxed him.
Someone was going to pay.
At least he got a smooch on the cheek from Ella when she came to visit him. She brought two glasses of ice-cream and they ate together while sitting on his bed. That felt nice and completely took the edge off. Almost made it worthwhile to get bludgered.
"You think it's Malfoy who jinxed you?" she asked, polishing off her cup.
"Why do you ask?" Harry raised his brows.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "She seemed to have it for you a couple weeks ago. Figured she's the most likely candidate."
"She didn't give you more trouble, did she?" Harry asked.
"No," his sister shook her head, and her brow furrowed. "Actually, she kinda helped me."
"Helped? How?"
"Well, that pugfaced guy who follows her everywhere – Parkinson – he kinda... he insinuated that I should switch sides."
"'Insinuated?'" Harry asked, his heartbeat increasing.
"Yeah, said something like, I'd have it better if I went out with him," she rolled her eyes as Harry's spoon stopped in mid-air. "Anyway, Malfoy told him to stop making an idiot of himself, and that I'm way out of his league."
"Well, she was right about that, at least," Harry smiled. Unlike his counterpart with her excellent ass, Percy Parkinson's pudginess and short stature didn't come with any perks; he looked almost like a Slytherin version of Neville.
"It was weird. She never does anything nice to anyone," Ella frowned. "You didn't put her under the Imperius, did you?
"You wound me, sweet sister," Harry ruffled her hair. He would have to reward his little blonde puppet. And maybe give Parkinson a little lesson. "No, I simply have some dirt on Danica, which forces her to act much nicer."
"Dirt?" Ella asked. "She's a Death Eater, what can be worse than that?"
"Not that kind of dirt. I mean the kind that she doesn't want her parents to know."
"Really? She doesn't seem the rebellious kind."
"We all have some dirt under our fingernails, sis. Particularly those prim, self-important types who were raised to a certain standard by their parents. And it's them who have the most to lose if it ever comes out."
"Whatever. So maybe she's not the one who jinxed you. Who else do you think it could have been?"
"Probably just some Slytherin Quidditch fanatic," Harry smiled at his sister warmly. "Get it off your mind. I'll put protections on my broom from now on. And on yours. It won't be a problem again."
Not that it would grant any mercy to the poor idiot who decided to mess with him.
Around eleven o'clock, when the healer finally left to his quarters, she reapplied the Disillusionment charm on herself and entered the infirmary, making her way slowly towards his bed in the dark, her way illuminated solely by scant moonlight.
She was going to make him see that she was more than just a passive fucktoy, or a snooty little girl. That she could be wild like him. That she changed.
"Fancy seeing you here, Danica," Potter said, his tone bored.
"How did you…" she began, cancelling the Disillusionment charm, and pulling the curtains around the area close, before casting an area-silencing charm.
"How did I know that my puppet was near me?" he smiled as she flinched a little. It had not gone exactly like she planned. "You should know better than to ask that, by now."
She nodded and slumped her head down in defeat. He always seemed to know things he shouldn't. It was part of what made her so drawn to him.
"I suppose you came to enjoy seeing your bane while he's down?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, actually, I…" she trailed, before she felt a Legilimency probe entering her. She didn't bother resisting it, and just allowed him to see from her eyes as he flew around the pitch, as he fucked her over the desk, let him feel the pleasure she felt when he took her. The intrusion to her mind excited her, like a prelude for a more physical one.
"You were horny and couldn't wait for the next time I decided to claim you?" he smiled in amusement, and she nodded blankly, biting her lip. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Slowly, gently, knowing that with her current excitement any sudden movement would fill her vision with black, she reached him and lay a hand down on his groin, through the blanket, rubbing him sensuously. He closed his eyes and hummed in approval.
She pulled aside the blanket and, with the same slow carefulness, began unbuttoning his nightgown, until her fingers rested on his manhood, which was warm and rising just for her. He put his arms behind his head and smiled at her lazily, almost affectionately. She took a second to discard her robe, revealing she was only covered by expensive teal lingerie below. She had bought it last week in Hogsmeade, with him on her mind the entire time. She hoped he liked it. She knew he found her body less than adequate.
"Very nice, Danica, the push-up makes your tits look cuter than usual."
"Thanks," she whispered, making a motion to take it off, but he stopped her.
"No, keep it on, I like it."
She bit her lip. "Do you really think they're too small?"
He gave her a reassuring, amused smile. "Don't worry about it. You're a lovely little thing."
It didn't make her feel any better, and it just made her want to prove her worth to him more. She nodded, before leaning her knees down on his bed and bowing her upper body down. Her hands caressed his slim waist as she lowered her head and, keeping eye contact with him all the while, brought her lips down on his cock.
She didn't care that it was subservient of her, that it was humiliating. It felt exciting and dangerous to lie in his bed and pleasure him. Being able to make him moan and cum, to bring him to a frantic state of mind and coax his affection, made her feel desired, sexy, and lively.
"My little Dick Eater is getting better…" he mumbled, stroking her hair tenderly, the compliment making her double her efforts and devour his cock ravenously. By the sounds coming out of his stretched open mouth, she knew she was getting him off well, but she didn't want it to end like that. Danica wanted more. She stopped slowly, licking a thread of spit that stretched from his cock to her mouth, and crept forward, straddling her thighs around his groin, his cock poking her wet lower lips.
"I want you to make me yours..." she whispered. He gave her a gleaming smile and caught her waist in his sturdy hands.
"You're already mine. And I'm not in the best state for that. But I owe you one for helping my sister, so come and take what you want."
Feeling a rush of satisfaction that he had acknowledged her actions, she began pulling her body up and down slowly, impaling herself on his cock and enjoying the sensation of being filled again and again, as every part of his organ rubbed her tight inner walls and widened them. She hung her head back and stretched her palms on his chest, her eyes closed, indulging in the heavenly feel of being in her rightful place, with the man who completed her and showed her a brand new world.
Her hands stretched above her head as she rode him wildly, and her jumps increased in intensity until she suddenly landed on his pelvis so hard that he let out a painful hiss. It was music to her ears, getting such a reaction from him, but it went out of her mind immediately when he wrapped his hands around her back and pulled her down towards him.
"Be a good puppet and show me how refined your technique can be, will you?" he breathed out.
She let her torso be pulled flat against his stomach, and laid her head on his chest, as his hands guided her ass to let her pussy massage his dick in slow, round movements, every turn and rub across her various pleasure spots bringing her closer to an orgasm. She felt that beautiful sensation in arms reach, that complete serenity of copulation, of just letting go and being.
"Yes, yes, feels so good…" she mumbled into his chest as the chemicals washed her brain like opium, and sensual heat spread from her center to her chest and legs. "Ohhh, yes, oh right there, ahhhhh…"
She slumped down on his now sweat covered body and basked in its warmth as she relished the sensation of his seed flowing inside of her, heating her center of womanhood like glowing embers.
But it still wasn't enough. She needed dessert in order to truly feel full. She stretched her hand back between her legs and scooped up a glob of cum that began slipping down her thighs, before bringing it into her mouth. Then she kept licking her fingers one by one, always keeping eye contact with him, until they were completely clean.
Harry smiled. He had cracked Danica Malfoy. He had stripped her bare of all her pathetic, juvenile pretensions and pride, and what he found underneath was absolutely beautiful. A creature just begging to be let loose, to escape the identity she was born into, to be wild and different. He was sure that, in a few months, that creature would be all that'd be left of her.
The Elder Wand thrummed with power in his hand, urging him to unleash his darkest curses on the poor fool who decided to jinx him during the match. Harry had to learn to ignore the pull of the wand, like the pull on a leash from an overexcited hound. Letting loose would have to wait until their prey was trapped in his claws.
It was easier said than done. No one he questioned had noticed whomever it was that cast the jinx. Harry was sure it was one of the Slytherins, but that made for quite a large pool of candidates, and they were harder to get to nowadays, with all the Death Eater staff stalking around the hallways, looking for students who could be useful for Cruciatus practice. Danica hadn't noticed anything during the match, but from what he had seen in her mind, she was quite occupied with herself at the time.
After a few days of futile investigations, Harry's annoyance got the better of him and he resorted to one of his riskier, yet foolproof ideas.
Dinner time had just started, and the Marauder's Map showed Snape in the Great Hall, likely overseeing a silent feast. She did not like hearing chatter while she ate, and the students all realized this very well after a few detentions with Professors Selwyn and MacNair.
Harry himself was near the greenhouses, wearing his invisibility cloak, right under the Headmistress' tower. He knew that the entrance to her office was heavily warded, and decided to enter through the window instead – something he had taken to do whenever he didn't feel like answering the riddle at the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. It was strange how the entryways were given such importance, when the windows in the castle completely lacked any form of security - considering wizards could actually fly.
Relaxing his muscles and thinking Survoler! Harry rose a few inches in the air, smiling at the sensation, before picking up speed and advancing upwards, peering through six windows, until he reached the uppermost one. He fixed his nose to the glass to make sure no one was inside, and opened the window with a simple Alohomora.
Snape arranged the office spartanly, with none of the charm and mystique that Dumbledore liked to inspire. Harry didn't linger on her interior decorating skills as he flew inside and cast several silent Freezing charms at the few portraits that were awake. With one last glance at the Marauder's Map to make sure Snape was away, he pulled open the door of a particular cabinet.
Dumbledore's pensieve was empty, which slightly disappointed Harry, who wondered whether he could uncover some of Snape's secrets, but otherwise it made his job quicker. He drew his wand and held it to his temple, focusing on the exact moment when he felt the jinx take hold of his broom; he would have to play the memory on repeat until he found the offender.
He dropped a silvery strand into the pensieve, lowered the hood of his cloak, and stuck his face to the misty bowl.
A deafening racket hit his ears as he fell into the Slytherin stands, right on top of some little boy. He grit his teeth and began traversing through the crowd, examining every face to see whether it was murmuring a jinx. He noted with a smirk how many of them appeared worried, since it was right around the time that he was closing in on the snitch and evading bludgers like he was made of smoke.
The first years at the bottom were predictably innocent, and Harry worked his way up the rows, growing agitated at finding nothing. The short memory must have played at least a hundred times by the point that he got to the top row, where most seventh-year Slytherins sat. Malfoy was stroking herself discreetly, and Parkinson was merely booing loudly, as was Greengrass. The real surprise came when he reached the last person, at the edge of the row, and found exactly what he was looking for; unblinking, fixated eyes, and murmuring lips. He knew the face, which he had noticed before, and furrowed his brow at the thin girl with the mousy nose, dark eyes and lank hair.
Why was Thea Nott jinxing him?
Just as the question formed, he felt a harsh tug on his hair, and the next thing he knew, he was back in the headmistress' office, with Seraphina Snape clutching his hair and glaring at him, nose to nose.
He cleared his mind instinctively, but it appeared that, for once, Snape wasn't trying to view his memories.
"Well, well, what have we here?" she drawled, her voice higher than her counterpart's, yet still quite low and nasally.
"Let go of me!" he said, taking his wand out, ready to dispose of Snape for good. It wasn't the best opportunity, but he would not let the bitch abuse him. Memories of all that her counterpart had done to make his life miserable resurfaced, along with the bitter emotions.
Snape merely twitched her nose and released his hair, pushing him as she did so, and he stumbled back a bit to the cabinet's door.
"Would you like to explain, Mister Potter, why you broke into my office and snooped into my pensieve?" she asked calmly.
Now that Harry regained his senses, he took a look around. The Freezing charms he had put on the portraits were still working, and curiously, the other portraits seemed frozen as well. His invisibility cloak was askew, only covering about half of him, and he quickly took it off and pocketed it with a grumble.
"Someone jinxed me during the quidditch match," he said, returning Snape's gaze defiantly. "I wanted to find out who it was. I heard Dumbledore had a pensieve and figured it would be the best way."
Snape merely hummed. "And, at any point before breaking into my office, did you consider simply asking?"
Harry bit his lip. He hated Snape's games. "No?"
"Mhm. And why is that?" Snape asked, closing the distance that Harry had put between them when he stumbled back. "Have I ever given you a reason to distrust me?"
Harry snorted, but kept otherwise silent. He didn't really know how Snape had treated his counterpart, but doubted it was very different to his own experience. After all… "You're a Death Eater," he said.
"Is that so," Snape drawled, and her gaze fell down to examine Harry from bottom to top, until she met his eyes again. "You look just like your father," she murmured, not quite in the bitter tone that Harry expected.
"So I've been told," he said in a steely voice. That's what it always comes down to, my father. How pathetic.
The headmistress nodded softly. "You're right. I am a Death Eater. Which is how I know that you and your little sister… are in deep trouble."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Snape looked him right in the eye. "Don't play games with me, Harry," she said. "I know what you did last summer. Confronted three Death Eaters, and killed at least one, at the wandmaker's shop. You've made some powerful enemies. In fact, your actions have painted a rather large target on your back. No one defies the Dark Lady and lives for long."
Harry held his breath, struggling not to show his scorn at the headmistress.
"However," she continued. "My position allows me to offer you protection that you sorely require."
Harry wasn't going to fall for her games. "Really?" he said, voice dripping with doubt.
"Really," she said. Why did she keep staring him in the eye despite performing no Legilimency? Harry had a bad feeling about this. "I would be willing to extend that protection to your sister, in exchange for some… favors."
Harry held his breath as she drew closer to him. "What kind of favors?"
In return, Snape gave a smile that seemed like it was supposed to be seductive, yet came out just predatory. "Let me show you…" she said quietly.
What she did next was the last thing Harry expected when he entered the room. Instead of blackmailing him, she snaked her hand over his chest and caressed it softly, while her other hand held his shoulder. Then, leaning down a little, she began to undo the buttons of his robe, always keeping her eyes pointed up to meet his.
Apparently, in this world, Snape had unrequited feelings for his other parent.
Despite all his sexual experience, he never recalled being in that kind of situation before, and simply stood still as the headmistress continued to take his clothes off slowly, and then began stripping herself down to her lacy, old-fashioned, black lingerie.
"Don't be scared, Harry," she said while dropping her skirt off, keeping the shoes and stockings on. Her pale, soft body was not well maintained, but he'd fucked much worse, and she had enough curves on her to stir something in his groin area.
Of course, he wasn't scared, just extremely baffled at this turn of events.
"I am, after all, the headmistress of this school," she said, once again going for a strange seductive expression. "And as that, I have certain duties to perform…"
She knelt down before him and began kissing his bare torso while rubbing her palms over his shoulders and arms. Harry had been in some bizarre sexual situations before, but this one was really taking the cake, and he still stood frozen, tracking her progress as her mouth and hands slowly made their way down to his boxers, which she groped softly.
"Oh my…" she said while feeling his hardening cock through the fabric, sending him a sudden look and batting her eyes at him. Harry had to resist visibly cringing. "What a big boy you grew up to be…"
"This is…" he began, for once completely out of words, but she simply placed a finger on her lips.
"Shhh…" she said. "Don't worry about it. Just let me do the work…"
She glided his boxers down until his organ popped out at her face. Unlike the rest of his body, his cock wasn't frozen, but was in fact rapidly swelling. That was his fatal flaw; being a horny bastard who couldn't resist fucking any woman with the slightest attractive qualities. He closed his eyes and breathed tightly while Seraphina (he preferred to think of her by her personal name; it felt slightly less awkward than thinking of his sexual partner as Snape) wrapped her long fingers around his warm shaft and began massaging it.
Much as he hated Snape - in any form – Harry couldn't ignore how good it felt as she lovingly caressed his swollen organ. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment.
"That's right," Seraphina mumbled. "Your cock is mine…"
He suddenly felt something warm and wet at the edge of his cock and opened his eyes to see her stretching her meaty lips around the pink head. He inhaled and took in the wonderful sensation as her mouth began to slide down his shaft and envelope it, licking and choking it all the while.
The pleasure made him stretch his body, and Seraphina took the opportunity to clamp her mouth strongly over the base of his cock, which felt amazing. He laid his hand on the back of her head, applying pressure to hold her in place all the way to his balls. This finally made the bitch start to sputter and choke, but Harry didn't let her go, fixing her firmly into his crotch.
"C'mon, a headmistress should have better tolerance for this," he smiled dazedly down at her flushed face, which held a scowl. Having this kind of control over her felt incredible. Only when Seraphina began to shake her head frantically and emit harsh choking noises he released his hold, and she pulled back her head, taking in heavy gulps.
"Not the worst blowjob I had, Professor, but hardly befitting your title," he tutted. "You say my cock belongs to you? I think our relationship should be more equal," he said, examining her mostly naked body, particularly her still heaving chest.
While her face wasn't much different from Snape's, her body was a marked improvement. She didn't have much tits or ass, but had a mature, somewhat curvy womanly shape, which was definitely enough to arouse Harry's libido, and her unnaturally pale skin was accentuated by her old-fashioned lacy black underwear.
He sent his hands to scoop her hair up, then pulled it aside harshly to turn her around. Seraphina let out an enraged gasp and stumbled, but let her body be guided by his handling. She definitely looked much better from the back.
"Get up, bitch," Harry spat, and she shakily followed his command, no doubt taken aback by the sudden change in attitude of the normally subdued student. Still holding her hair with one hand, he slapped her ass with the other and pushed her forward to the middle of the room. "You have a lot to make up for."
"What—" she began asking, turning her head around, but Harry put a stop to that by pulling her hair back the other way.
"I know exactly who told of the prophecy to the Dark Lady," he whispered in her ear, and watched her go still with satisfaction. Though he witnessed the Dark Lord cursing Snape to a terrible death, Harry was still peeved that he never got to exact his own revenge over the man whose fault it was he didn't have parents.
"How—"
"I know everything, Half-Blood Princess."
Harry pushed her forward towards the desk, and bent her down over it, holding her neck to the polished wooden surface. Before she could say anything, he pulled down her lacy panties and let them fall to her knees. Her pubic hair was just as black and greasy as the hair on her head.
"Christ, your pussy is a mess. Absolutely disgusting," he spat. "Haven't you ever heard of shaving?"
His cock was fully erect in anticipation to show the bitch who's the boss, and his finger prodded her hairy folds. "Or maybe… you just let the lawn grow so wild because no one had a chance to see your filthy cunt since you were a student, anyway?"
She turned her head back, glowering. "You little—"
"I thought you said I was big?" Harry raised an eyebrow and pushed her head down on the table again, holding it in place by her hair. "Anyway, isn't this what you wanted?"
Seraphina took a long breath and grit her teeth. "Yes," she whispered after a few seconds, deflating.
"Then be quiet and stop pretending like you have a shred of dignity, you trollop," he said, taking his wand out again. "If you think my cock is yours, then by exchange, your pussy belongs to me. Now, let's see… Evanesco."
The Vanishing charm didn't give a perfect shave, but it got rid of most of her disgusting bush, which looked like a rat stuck in a sewer.
"Much better," Harry said and pushed a middle finger into her dark red pussy, which now only had thin wisps of hair dotting it. Seraphina moaned. He held a hand down on the small of her back to steady himself, and then pushed his cock forcefully into her meaty, soft vagina.
As cold as the bitch was, her tunnel was warm and wet, and she barely made a sound as he brought his dick deeper and deeper into her depths. Harry relished in the hot sensation, which sent tingles up his body and face, and urged him to thrust harder and faster into her.
"Do you like having power over the students, Professor?" he asked after hitting her walls particularly hard and making her gasp. She moaned something weakly. "I asked you a question." he said, slamming his cock into her cervix.
"Y-Yes!" she mewled.
"I knew it. I bet the only reason you stayed to teach here is that it gives you plenty of students to bully with impunity, lets you feel powerful," Harry said, increasing the pace of his thrusts and banging her groin against the desk, relishing in how much it hurt her. "But if you want my cock, you'd just have to submit and be used like a filthy little whore. Would you like that?"
"Yes, yes, yes…" she moaned weakly, her chest squeezed on top of the wooden surface. "Oh, James, oh yes…"
It was always about his father with this greasy cunt. Still, Harry couldn't complain. It felt fucking great to dominate Snape, to fuck the headmistress over her desk, and use her for his pleasure. He was quickly building up to a climax and had to slow down in order to make it last longer. Instead of hammering her, he began to spin his dick inside her pussy in slow, circular motions, which made Seraphina hum in pleasure and grind her ass against his groin. Somehow, this built up his orgasm more than anything else. It felt absolutely divine.
"Is my stirring movement correct, Professor?" he asked with a grin.
"YES, YES!" she moaned, and he pushed down her back with both hands.
"Let's just throw the final ingredient into the cauldron, then," he said, and began to hammer her like a machine gun.
"AH, AH, AH, AH!" she exclaimed as her groin was slammed hard against the wood. Finally, going as fast and hard as he possibly could, Harry came and splashed his seed all over her tunnel, sighing in contentment.
"Oooh, yes James… rub your man seed inside of me…" she mumbled as he did just that.
"Hmmm... I don't think you deserve Potter seed, Professor," Harry said, and pulled out of her warm snatch. "I wouldn't like ugly, greasy, hook-nosed children staining the family name. Let's rub it where you really deserve."
Harry released his hold on her back, walked around to the other side of the desk, where her head was resting flat, and pulled it towards him by her curtains of black hair. Her eyes were barely open, but she raised them to meet his gaze, and her lips parted just as he began to rub his cum all over her face – first the cheeks, then the forehead, the nose, the lips, and finally her hair.
Once he was done, her eyes closed again in a daze, and Harry took the opportunity to smear the late-exiting drops of cum over her eyelids.
"Now you'll have to wash your hair," he said in vindication.
Taking a last look across the office, he cleaned himself with a charm and buttoned his pants. He couldn't spy anything particularly useful around, and was content leaving Snape slumped across her desk, weak and covered with his seed.
He could have killed her right then - nobody would have known. But Harry figured Voldemort would just send a replacement, one who'd be even worse, and Snape did say that she'd protect Ella, so he decided to let the bitch live.
For now.
