WARNING: NO READERS UNDER THE AGE OF 17. WHY? BECAUSE IT HAS NASTY, NASTY WORDS AND SITUATIONS. OMG.
Author: Crack Author
Title: Disturbing Events Ch 1 of several.
Ship: HP/SS
Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction. By no means am I making any profit on this or taking ownership of her characters. JKR's got leashes and collars for them all.
Summary: HP/SS Harry has been having an odd dream. It disturbs him. It disgusts him. And dammit, it's about nasty sex with greasy, nasty Snape. But he hates Snape. Really he does. And this all leads to a series of really disturbing events that actually lead to... a climax. A bit crack-filled in the beginning, middle and end, but you may enjoy that.
Harry, wearing his invisibility cloak, walked the length of the Hogwarts' dungeons pulling on his turgid member whilst thinking of buggering Snape into submission. Just the thought made the young Gryffindor glisten with sweat. He didn't want fame, glory and all the other shit that came with being Harry-bloody-Potter; he wanted sex. And not just any kind of sex. He wanted the nasty whips, chains, blood, screams and come-with-unbelievable-trajectory sex.
Harry was certain that the Slytherin Head of House could provide such a delectable service. After all, he was a death eater. He must be into that sort of thing. Death eaters, Harry decided, have to be very, very nasty when it comes to sex. It just made sense. Well, at the time.
But it was just when he rounded a corner in the dungeons, so terribly close to his goal, that a red-haired boy by the name of Ron—or Ronald, as his not-so-bushy haired friend insisted to call him—would shake him awake from his dream, leaving him feeling extremely odd and a bit disgusted at himself.
True enough, it wasn't always Ron who did the waking. Sometimes it would be the howl of a painting in Grimmauld Place, a floo call from Hermione at the ministry or even worse Remus Lupin. Harry was sure that when Lupin woke him, he would know of the dream somehow, shift into a werewolf and swallow Harry whole. All because of his disgusting subconscious.
Why did he have these dreams anyway? It was a good thing, Harry thought to himself, that dream Harry's desires never came to fruition, reality Harry wasn't too keen on whips, chains, blood, screams and wasn't sure if come could squirt anywhere but his eye when he was in the shower let alone anywhere else—he feared wanking anywhere else. Also, he wasn't very keen on Snape either. Let alone some kind of crazy sado-masochism, bondage thing that he'd only ever heard of in magazines.
And anyway, why did it have to be Snape of all people? Why couldn't it be Ron, for instance? Sure, Harry had no sexual attraction to his best friend and Ron could indeed be a git some of the time—mostly to Hermione and not Harry—but he wasn't a great greasy git twenty-four hours a day, seven horrible days a week, now was he?
However a sexual fantasy about a friend could destroy a friendship and Harry was glad that wasn't a possibility in this case. Could a sexual fantasy involving a hated former professor destroy a hateful relationship? Harry realized that his logic was flawed in this department. Perhaps it was the effect of lack of sleep. Those dreams definitely weren't helping where a good night of shut-eye was concerned. Besides it wasn't a sexual fantasy. It was a dream—NO! A nightmare.
At the moment, Harry was yawning as he set himself to the task of cleaning dishes. It was a job he tolerated—tolerated being more on the borderline of down-right detest—since he was made to do the job everyday at the Dursley's. Thank Merlin he didn't have to stay with those muggles anymore. Well, "bastards" was a more appropriate word, Harry decided. Wouldn't want to sully the good name of 'muggle'. There certainly were a great number of good muggles—Hermione's parents if he had to name some and if he hadn't met them he would be completely sold on the whole Death Eater theory. Well, in the category that the Dursley's deserved a good thrashing with some Unforgivables.
Harry mentally scratched that thought right out of his head. He wouldn't make a good Death Eater; he really didn't want to kill anyone (Snape really didn't count as a person). The Dursley's, how terrible they were to him and how terrible they continue to be in general, probably didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Avada Kedavra. Probably.
"Hello?" A voice called from his entryway, causing him to drop the plate he was washing onto the floor. "Harry?"
He whirled around, nearly slipping on the broken pieces of the plate, but when he saw who it was he relaxed a bit and decided he'd better take a seat and clean the mess up later.
Propping his head up with the heels of his palms, Harry forced an awkward mumble out of his mouth. "What are you doing here, Hermione?"
He listened to her footsteps echo as she walked on the hardwood floor and with each step he was sure he'd actually taken some of Fred and George's new 'Very Head A'Splode-y' potion instead of tea. What he really needed was a nap. Or perhaps some different dreams. One with a nice field. Perhaps with rainbows and a unicorn—a proper one, not a dead one like in first year. Sleep was definitely in order.
"That's no way to treat a friend." He finally looked up at her when she got close enough. Harry noted that her gaze went disapprovingly downward to the mess the plate had made and then sympathetically to his face. "You don't look very well."
"I'm fine," he said shortly while pushing himself up from his chair and after seeing the defeated look in her eyes he sighed and turned back to the dishes. "I just haven't been sleeping very well."
OMG, what an odd way to end a chapter!Why the hell did I do that? More in the works.