
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7885984.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J.K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape, Albus_Dumbledore/Other(s)
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Draco_Malfoy, Hermione_Granger, Other_-
      Character
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, First_Time, Drama, Romance, Mpreg, Unusual_Sexual
      Situation
  Collections:
      Ink_Stained_Fingers
  Stats:
      Published: 2004-02-14 Words: 2086
****** Blood_Fire_Magick part 4 ******
by Byrdie
Summary
     Snape’s in heat and Harry’s on his tail. All hands clear the decks!
Notes
     This story was originally archived at Ink_Stained_Fingers, which was
     created in 2002 as a home for Harry Potter slash fiction. To preserve
     the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an
     Open Doors-approved project in January 2015. We e-mailed all authors
     about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached
     everyone. If you are (or know) this author or artist, please contact
     me using the e-mail address at the Ink_Stained_Fingers_collection
     profile.
     Author's notes: Yes, I’m back. Thanks ever so much for your kind
     remarks and commentary on this fic. Hopefully it won’t take so long
     to finish now that RL’s a bit less hectic.
Blood_Fire_Magick part 4




  Seven times the liquid had been distilled, now it was ready for the final
  ingredient. Severus pricked his finger and held it over the steaming
  cauldron. Drop, drop, drop. Stir clockwise three times, then widdershins
  nine. Slow, even strokes -- too rapid stirring caused many a potion to break,
  something he had spent nearly half his life trying, with varying degrees of
  success, to pound into empty little heads. There! The perfect shade of amber.
  Cool, bottle and seal, turning it upside down to allow any remaining
  impurities (unlikely, but Snape wasn't taking chances) to settle in the cork.
  Archimedes, his owl, would deliver it first thing in the morning; the elixir
  worked best when taken before meals.

  Speaking of meals, he'd missed his supper now as well as his dinner. Oh,
  well, he wasn't hungry anyway. For some odd reason, his favorite calf's blood
  no longer appealed. Maybe he ought to try goat tomorrow; variety couldn't
  hurt. What he wanted, craved even, was a nice, cool dip. In the lake, where
  even the giant squid kept its distance now that it knew exactly what he was.
  He'd been working all day and he really needed to relax. Potion brewing was
  hot, dirty, sweaty, sticky business. A moonlight swim, a long, leisurely
  flight now that he could stretch his wings, then home again and off to bed
  with one Severus Allanon Snape.

  Where a certain little green-eyed succubus would come lay with him in his
  dreams. Soon, very soon, he hoped, those dreams would be real. He was tired
  of waking up with empty arms and a nameless yearning in his soul.

  #

  Harry's new look made him want to strangle someone. Preferably Draco, after
  all the whole animagus idea was his. Harry had gone along, thinking what the
  heck, it just might give him the edge he needed. But..."Red and *yellow*?" he
  wailed ...er, hissed.

  SSSimoniusss carefully looked him over. Perfect. Even he wouldn't know it was
  really a two-legger if he hadn't seen Harry change. Then again, his friend
  *was* the Heir of Slytherin. "SSSo what'sss wrong with that? All blood
  pythonsss are red and yellow. You look handsssome."

  "I look like a dork. A Gryffindork." He scowled. "Dunno why I'm wasting my
  time, this is never going to work."

  "You want to mate, yesss?" Harry nodded."SSSeverusss wantsss to mate, too.
  SSSoon, I can sssmell it. You are young and clever and ssstrong, Little
  SSSerpent. Why ssshould he not be yoursss?"

  #

  Petunia Dursley might be a very happily married woman but she still
  subscribed to Witch Weekly. For the articles, she claimed, blushing whenever
  this or that girl friend teased. Besides, if Vernon could have a Bikini-of-
  the- Month calendar from that Muggle magazine he always had his nose buried
  in ... sports indeed!

  How convenient, they'd spelled it to open the centerfold first. Last issue, a
  Muggleborn rock singer was Dream Wizard of the Week. Not bad, definitely what
  all the younger witches called drool-worthy, but it would be so nice to see a
  more ...mature... figure every now and again. Preferably somebody with a name
  that didn't sound like it couldn't be said in decent company.

  Oh. My. Yai-ai-ai.... "THE SLYTHERIN SEX GOD BARES ALL" read the caption.
  Below, in all his nude, wet glory and covering up his naughty bits with a
  wingtip (all the while scowling and flinging fireballs at the camera -- they
  must have had another hidden close by) was her old schoolmate, Severus Snape.


  All poor Petunia could do was stare. And drool. And conjure up a great big
  fan and a bucket of ice water to cool herself off before she spontaneously
  combusted. *This* was the man who wanted to Court her nephew? This total
  paragon of magical masculine magnificence?!!

  "Harry Potter," she said, her womanly juices slicking her panties -- hey, she
  was married, not dead! -- "you are one lucky son-of-a-witch!"

  #

  A brawl, three hex fights, and a challenge to an illegal duel. All before
  breakfast. And all over her arch rival, Snape. Minerva McGonagall grimaced as
  if she'd finally found that one disgusting flavour even Botts wouldn't put in
  their beans. Where was Albus and why on earth was he permitting this -- this
  unseemly spectacle? Goodness gracious, was she the only one around here who
  *hadn't* gone insane? Honestly, just because he looked like...and smelled
  like .... Oh Blessed Bast!

  All of a sudden she wanted to pounce. Roll and purr and beg him to tickle her
  fuzzy tummy and rub that special spot behind her right ear. It was even worse
  than the time that prankster, Black, was in fifth year and decided to put
  some extra greens in her salad at the Sorting Feast.

  Only the catnip had never smelled half as good.

  #

  Harry was listless, irritable and terminally horny. What else is new, he
  thought, grabbing his wand and casting a quick cleaning spell on himself and
  his sticky bed sheets. Herbology exam. Bloody hell, he'd overslept! No time
  now to grab a bite, better hurry or he'd really be late.

  #

  Other than the usual childhood ailments, like zebra pox and rainbow mumps,
  Severus Snape had never been sick a day in his life. But now there was
  something definitely wrong -- why else would he wake up covered in sweat,
  freezing one minute, frying the next and his stomach all out of sorts? He
  felt so awful he took a double dose of Pepper-Up potion, but it might as well
  have been plain water for all the good it did. In fact, it might have made
  him worse; now he could hardly bear the touch of even the softest robes upon
  his fevered flesh. His thoughts were getting more chaotic by the minute -
  - absolutely horrifying to someone who prized quick-wittedness and clarity of
  mind -- and although the thought of eating nauseated him, he was absolutely
  ravenous. But not for food.

  He wanted blood. And not out of a bottle that had been charmed to retain
  freshness, either. Bottled blood never did taste right -- not that anybody
  else would think about how the stuff tasted. After all, they only kept it on
 hand for use in potions and as fertilizer for the more exotic of Professor
  Sprout's plants. No, what he needed right now was to sink his fangs into
  warm, living flesh and feast. His whole body ached with the urge to hunt and
  feed.

  Gone was the urbane Hogwarts teacher, Severus Snape. In his place now stood a
  predator, one whose great and terrible hunger would no longer be denied.

  #

  Twenty minutes into the exam, Harry dropped his quill. Ink splattered all
  over the parchment, blots obscuring what few answers he had managed to write.
  For some reason (at first he put it down to skipping breakfast) he just
  couldn't concentrate, no matter how hard he tried. His mind kept wandering in
  all directions and he really, *really* didn't feel well. All hot and sweaty
  like he was getting the flu maybe -- but he'd had his shots, so that couldn't
  be it. Besides, flu wouldn't make him suddenly start craving...

  Blood?!

  #

  Severus drained yet a fourth bovine, this one a fully- grown bull, but though
  the blood was fresh and hot and *so* delicious, it was only temporary
  satisfaction. What would it take to sate him? Would he ever know anything
  other than this horrible ...emptiness... within?

  Big green eyes dancing with mischief, soft lips pressed against his, gentle
  whispers and tender caresses -- dream or memory? Then he recalled. A boy.
  *The* boy, the one with the helter-skelter hair, a zigzag scar on his
  forehead, and that oh-so-tantalizing scent. Harry. The very thought of his
  sweet, warm innocent flesh made Severus moan. Heat and hunger flared again,
  only now the fire had spread.

  Now it was in his loins. His sex emerged from its sheath, hard and moist and
  throbbing. He tried to ease it first by tearing away the confining cloth, but
  that didn't help so he rubbed it as he had once seen a human male do. Oh yes,
  that *did* feel good! But the more he stroked, the harder and slicker it
  grew, until it stood up, flushed and leaking copious amounts of pre-come,
  against his belly. His balls were heavy and aching and when he reached behind
  them, his virgin center was wide and wet and quivering with the need to be
  filled and taken.

  The Verpyre hissed, eyes ablaze. Taken?! He was *nobody's* property, least of
  all some pathetic little mortal's! Claimed yes, there was honour in that.
  Only a Mate could rightfully claim. And be claimed in equal turn, so that the
  two were truly one.

  First, though, that Mate must prove worthy, instinct and evolution demanded
  no less. Severus unfurled his great ebony wings and with a mighty leap,
  launched himself skyward.

  #

  Fuck! Harry yowled and came, right in the middle of the classroom. What in
  Hades' holy name was going on?! One minute he was trying to write, while
  fighting off the urge to bite down on something -- anything! -- and draw
  blood; the next he'd gone from somewhat antsy to fully erect and jisming all
  over himself. Wouldn't know but he'd been having one of those blue dreams
  again, or a good hard wank. It even *felt* like he was wanking.

  Harry blinked. Felt like? He shook his head. That couldn't be right.
  Unless..."Severus!" he shouted and leapt from his seat.

  Ignoring the uproar behind him (not all that difficult, given his condition)
  Harry ran right out the door, tearing his robes open and flinging them off.
  Across the green he raced to the Quidditch pitch, where somebody -- Draco or
  Dudley? -- shoved a broom at him and he grabbed it and mounted. Clumsily,
  because his knees were wobbly and his heart was pounding and his prick was
  still rock hard, even after blowing its load. Someone else yelled. "It's
  Snape!" And he was up, up, and away!

  #

  Word spread like wildfire. Snape had risen and Harry Potter was riding to
  mate with him. There was a mad scramble for brooms, winged horses and magic
  carpets with Ministry licence plates. Some riders had caught a glimpse of
  Slytherin's Heir as he flew by and followed his example by going sky clad,
  with charms to protect (and in some cases enhance) their what-nots. The rest
  wore robes, though without underwear so as not to impede access. Most of them
  were male but all were healthy, hot-blooded specimens. Minerva McGonagall,
  Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, Cho Chang and a pair of twins everybody
  kept confusing were among the Hogwarts female contingent. With a chorus of
  lusty yells and ribald cheers the pack took flight.

  #

  Dudley Dursley was all but hopeless on a broom; even the extra lessons that
  Professor Wood had so generously offered to students taking part in the
  mating flight hadn't improved his skills much beyond the point where he
  wouldn't fall off and break his neck. He was perhaps the only Slytherin in
  all Hogwarts history to be turned down as a second stringer by the Hufflepuff
  Quidditich team. Everybody knew he hadn't a sportsman-like bone in his body.
  Thus it was a considerable source of amusement, especially to the
  Gryffindors, to see him mounted on a Firebolt in pursuit of Severus Snape.

  He didn't want the Verpyre -- though his hormones kept insisting otherwise so
  he'd had to use an extra strength chastity charm prior to take-off -- but he
  did want to help Harry win him. Which was why he was out here making a fool
  of himself for the whole wide wizarding world to see. Draco's plan called for
  distraction, depended on it, in fact. Dudley would fly the lower levels and
  use every common nuisance spell and jinx he could think of to cull the
  competition. Attrition by annoyance, the blond had called it during one of
  their late-night strategy sessions. An approved Slytherin tactic, old Salazar
  would be proud.

  Hermione and Draco would deal with the better fliers, harassing them so they
  lagged even farther behind where Dudley could pick them off and intercepting
  any curses that might be aimed Harry's way. Cheerfully returning them three-
  fold to their senders -- the only right and proper thing to do with hexes!
  That would leave Harry free to concentrate on catching the Sni-- er,
  Professor Snape. All in all, it was a very good plan. Even Dudley couldn't
  find fault with it.

  Unfortunately, it didn't cover what to do with a dragon.

  ***

  TBC
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