
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1001719.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Hermione_Granger, Ron_Weasley
  Series:
      Part 1 of The_Quidditch_Series
  Stats:
      Published: 2008-03-29 Words: 4560
****** Catching the Snitch ******
by The_Jester_Erebus10
Summary
     Harry really can't stand Professor Snape. So why does he feel this
     strange, forbidden attraction to him?
“WHAT?!”
A shrill screech cut through the air, causing half of Hogwarts to jump in their
seats. Somewhere, Dumbledore was grabbing a box of lemon drops and coming to
the rescue.
The source of the disturbance was a spectacled young man, standing in the
middle of the Potions classroom, gripping a piece of parchment between his
shaking hands.
“No-it-impossib-how?”
“Mr. Potter, if you are as unable to string together a coherent sentence as you
are with completing your appalling excuse for an essay, then kindly refrain
from speaking altogether.”
“But-”
“Sit down, you’re interrupting my class.”
At that, Harry saw red. He could feel the pressure building up, anger ready to
explode out of him. How DARE he? Harry stood stock still, staring at Snape who
stared right back at him. Oh, he would stand here all day if he had to. Harry
glared back at the professor defiantly, and when Snape raised one delicately
arched eyebrow, he felt as if he were going to erupt like a volcano.
“ARGH!” Harry shoved his cauldron off the desk. It landed with a resounding
crash at Snape’s feet. Before Snape so much as opened his mouth to subtract
more points from Gryffindor, Harry stormed out of the room, leaving only deadly
silence in his wake.
“Well?” Snape barked at the remaining students, who were all still staring at
the cauldron rolling on the floor. “Get to work!”
………………………….
Harry sighed into his bottle of butterbeer as he sat by the fireplace in the
vacated common room, mulling over the events of the day. Everything had been
just fine until that bat had to be more unfair and vindictive than usual. Well,
Harry’s day had been slightly strained, what with Ron acting like a pompous
sod, parading around with Lavender Brown. That and his own conflicting emotions
revolving around his disturbingly erotic recurring dreams involving Malfoy and
the Weasley twins.
And that other dream, the one that made him even more confused, the one with a
vision of dark, unfathomable eyes and a deep, buttery voice-
No. Nope. Absolutely ridiculous. Of course he had no attraction what-so-ever to
him. He could accept his inclinations towards the same sex, but there were some
thoughts he just couldn’t entertain. Still, his raging hard-on would beg to
differ.
‘Think Cho. Cho, wait, no, not Cho, Ginny, Ginny in a bikini, yeah.’
But instead of arousing him further, the images caused his erection to wilt.
This was insanity.
And SNAPE. He, of course, was the topping on the proverbial cake. Excluding
those dreams…someone must be slipping something in his pumpkin juice. It was
the only explanation. He certainly wouldn’t put it past Snape, who was capable
of pulling a stunt like that. There was no way Harry would EVER be attracted
to...
Harry gulped. That was enough of those thoughts.
Now, he might not have been the best student over the years, but he never,
NEVER in his life gotten a T on anything, especially not for something as
trivial as a blot of ink splattered on his parchment. Ron had accidentally
knocked over the bottle of ink that same morning. Harry had left it on the
nightstand by the bed, and his essay was unfortunately laying underneath it
when Ron, upon waking up, swung his arm into the path of the bottle. Snape, of
course, refused to hear any excuses and claimed that since “the concluding
paragraph was absent (or rather, flooded with ink) the paper lost all
relevance.” He then had the nerve to take points off from Gryffindor when Harry
tried to reason with him, and for Harry’s hair, which he had likened to an
“unkempt mop.”
And he stated all of this in front of the class.
‘He can go sod off, talking about my hair.’ He ran his hand through the black
strands, some of which were sticking straight up like he had been struck by a
lightning bolt. ‘As if he can talk, that greasy headed bastard.’
The main reason for his anger was not this, however. Snape assigned him
detention on the very day that Gryffindor played against Slytherin.
Snape must have planned this somehow. It was all some big conspiracy.
After pondering for several minutes, Harry stretched lazily and sat up from the
chair, his temper cooled off slightly. The bell would ring soon, and the last
class of the day would be over. Everyone would rush into the room and want to
talk about what happened in the Potions classroom. Criminy, it was the last
thing he wanted. No, he had to sort out matters with Snape.
He stepped out from behind the Fat Lady and made his way down to the dungeons
again. He was the captain of the Quidditch team! He couldn’t be absent during a
match, and especially not one against Slytherin. If he had to bargain, then
bargain he must.
The bell rang, and Harry waited in an empty hall nearby, avoiding all other
students. When the coast was clear, Harry approached the classroom door in the
dungeons. His anger flared up again and he took his frustration out on the
door, knocking furiously.
“Enter.”
Examining his now red and swollen fingers, Harry slipped inside the room. Snape
was shuffling through the remaining essays and did not so much as look up to
acknowledge his presence. Harry felt his heart leap to his throat as he watched
Snape’s elegant hand flying across the parchment, and for a brief moment
wondered how those hands would feel if they were roaming over his body. A blush
crept over his face and he wrung his sore, sweaty hands.
Harry cleared his throat.
After what seemed like hours, Snape slowly raised his head.
“Ah, Mr. Potter. Is there something you need?”
Harry met Snape’s gaze coolly as the other man regarded him with a mildly
amused expression on his sallow face.
“Sir. I was, er, hoping you would maybe allow me to redo my essay.”
Snape’s lips curled in a sneer. “Now why would I do that?” he asked softly,
folding his hands in front of him.
Harry said farewell to his remaining shreds of dignity as he prepared to plead.
“Please, sir, the Quidditch match, I really can’t miss it, I’m the captain-”
“And you think just because you are the famous Harry Potter, the Idiot-Who-
Lived, you deserver special treatment? I don’t think so.” The infamous smirk
widened as Harry clenched his shaking hands into fists. He inhaled slowly.
‘Just stay calm, Harry. Breathe in, breathe out…’
“Please, sir. I’ll do anything.”
Snape chuckled low in his throat, and Harry felt himself flush. Again. ‘Dammit,
Harry…’
“Anything, Mr. Potter?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll scrub the cauldrons with a toothbrush, I’ll dissect a toad’s
spleen, I’ll-”
His voice trailed off when he noticed the look Snape was giving him. He stared
at Harry with eyes like burning coal, a hungry expression on his face.
Harry gulped loudly and shifted his legs to conceal his rather healthy
erection.
Snape slowly rose from his chair and walked around the desk, his hand sliding
over the surface. Harry sat down quickly in the nearest chair. The professor
came to a stop directly in front of him, and Harry stared up at him, blinking
and feeling a bit like a deer in the path of a trolley.
“You know, Mr. Potter, placing yourself in someone else’s hands is very
dangerous indeed,” he murmured, and Harry shivered as that voice washed over
him and through his insides like raw silk.
“I didn’t place myself anywhere, sir,” he answered defiantly, glaring up at his
teacher.
“Ah, but by offering anything…you see, I could have you do many things.” He
took another step towards Harry. “I could have you clean this entire room on
your hands and knees, or, I could have you do something slightly more
productive.”
More…productive? Harry felt his body getting warmer in the frigid dungeon. ‘Oh,
stop that, taking his words out of context,’ the little voice of reason
scolded. Of course Snape wasn’t insinuating anything—was he?
“I may even consider letting you make up your essay, and perhaps let you out of
detention this Friday.”
Harry’s eyes widened and he grinned despite himself. “Er, well, what should I
clean? Sir,” Harry said, rather lamely.
“Will you really do anything I wish of you?” Snape whispered, ignoring Harry’s
question.
“Yes.”
“Anything?”
Harry’s insides practically thrummed with excitement. “Anything.”
Snape regarded him impassively for a moment and then retreated back to sit
behind his desk. He resumed grading, dipping his quill in the ink and
scratching what was most likely scathing insults on the remaining essays. Harry
sat quietly, waiting.
And waiting.
 
Fifteen minutes had gone by. Had Snape forgotten he was even there? But that
thought had barely left Harry’s mind when suddenly Snape set down his quill and
beckoned silently. Without complaint, Harry approached the desk, feeling
Snape’s dark gaze burning brands into him.
“Come around the desk,” the professor murmured, his voice soft and rich like
velvet. Harry obeyed, and as soon as he stepped around to stand by the chair
Snape reached out and caught his hand. Harry’s breath caught as the pale thumb
stroked his skin he pulled Harry towards him gently, then ran his hands up his
arms and to his shoulders, and then pushed Harry down until he sank on his
knees before him. Harry’s heart was a wild hummingbird in his chest, fluttering
and pecking and racing…and Snape looked down at him with such hunger it was as
if he wished to devour him.
“Get under the desk.”
His heart sped up even more, and his mind seemed to shut down. A foot massage.
That’s it. Nothing more. Certainly not anything sexual…
Harry scuttled under the desk, not even attempting to argue, his knees scraping
painfully on the cold stone floor. His glasses were slipping down his sweaty
face and he impatiently shoved them in his pocket.
“Ow!” Harry’s head hit the desk as Snape pushed his chair closer, and then
reached one long fingered hand down to caress his own crotch.
Harry let out a squeak and clapped his hands over his mouth as he watched his
teacher fondle himself. He figured he would have to do something like this when
Snape had ordered him under the desk, but still…shock and excitement
overwhelmed him. This was unbelievable, this was too good to be true, this was
really happening…sweet Merlin.
Snape must have heard the squawk, for the next moment he let out a deep,
throaty chuckle.
“Even for someone as dimwitted as you, Potter, you are still surprisingly slow
on the uptake.” One yellowed finger traced the zipper as Harry gaped open
mouthed at the obvious bulge that tented Snape’s trousers. “I expect you to
perform with more diligence than you do with the rest of your work,” Snape
drawled, “seeing as this will relieve you from your detention. And--” he
shifted in his seat, spreading his legs slightly, “if you please me, I may even
give you back some of those house points you were so keen to lost today.” He
undid the fly slowly, and Harry watched transfixed as he guided his engorged
erection out of his pants.
He shivered as Snape’s hand reached down to stroke the soft flesh of his
throat, and cursed himself inwardly at his reaction to the man’s touch. He
stretched his neck up further as sparks of heat trailed up and down his
spine…the blood in his veins seemed like fire whispering to Snape’s fingers.
Snape’s hand lifted back up, and Harry heard the scratching sound of the quill
on parchment resume. Harry took Snape’s cock in his hands, hot and hard and
moist with arousal. The skin was velvety smooth, much like his voice. Harry
drew in a sharp breath, feeling dizzy from the emotions colliding inside of
him. He should just wait until Slughorn got back from his five day sojourn in
Paris to make up the essay…better yet, he should complain to Dumbledore. Snape
was nothing but an arse. A manipulative, perverted, slimy, cruel arse. With a
silky bedroom voice and a huge cock. Yes, very big, he noted as he stared at
the shaft in his hands, slightly intimidated by its girth. ‘I guess it’s the
one good quality of his, and it’s not even his doing, it’s genes,’ Harry
thought while a sadistic smile spread over his face as he imagined what would
happen to Snape if he told Dumbledore. ‘But this is what you really want, isn’t
it, Harry? Isn’t this the very thing you have been dreaming of?’
Harry leaned closer to Snape, taking in a deep breath. This was the first time
he had ever done anything sexual. The closest thing he had was that sloppy kiss
with Cho Chang in 5th year, and that was hardly anything to brag about. He
prepared himself, opening his mouth wide when suddenly Snape thrust his hips
forward, missing Harry’s mouth completely and poking him in the eye instead.
“Ow!” Merlin, that impatient sod. His eyes watering, he brought his face up to
Snape’s erection and flicked his tongue over the head. He swallowed when he
heard the man let out a sigh. Damn. He never wanted Snape to stop making those
sensual noises. He inhaled through his nose and his insides heated even more at
the musky scent of Snape’s desire. He lapped at the tip again, then wrapped his
lips around his cock and sucked him inside his mouth. Harry heard him groan, a
deep sound that reverberated through every inch of his body. His left hand,
which was holding Snape’s cock, stroked up and down the man’s length, squeezing
gently, then brought it down to fondle his balls.
Snape let out a low moan, softly guttural, and Harry felt an aching, pulsing
need course through him. Another low sound emanated from his throat, sounding
almost like a purr. Harry closed his eyes as his own cock hardened further.
A part of him was humiliated, forced on his knees before the very man he hated,
worshipping him as if he were some king sitting on his throne, and Harry was
his slave…Snape stole him away and locked him in another element, one filled
with conflicting emotions and raw, animalistic desire.
He purred again, rich and dark like chocolate, and Harry felt his veins flood
with heated lust.
Bugger.
Knock knock knock.
Harry froze at the pounding on the dungeon door. Snape set down his quill and
pushed the chair back, regarding Harry with heavy lidded eyes. He bent down
close so his lips moved against the shell of his ear. “You are not to stop.
Keep going, and don’t make any noises.” That silky voice threaded through
Harry’s senses again as the man sat back up, staring down at him. Harry nodded,
his eyes wide, feeling like a skittish rabbit.
“Good boy,” Snape whispered, pushing the chair back in and trapping him under
the desk. “Enter.”
Harry’s thoughts were rushing in a million different directions at once. Oh god
oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-
Snape’s hand pushed the back of his head, forcing him back on his cock.
“Sir?”
Harry broke into a cold sweat, beads of perspiration running over his heated
flesh.
“Yes, Mr. Weasley? What is it you need?” the professor snapped.
“Er, have you seen Harry, sir? No one can find him after he ran out of here,
and he’s been missing for a while.”
“I do not keep tabs on you little friends, Weasley.” Snape’s tone was
indifferent, a remarkable feat considering what Harry was currently performing.
Or at least Harry thought so. He sucked harder and grinned around the shaft in
his mouth when he heard Snape let out a quiet grunt.
“Ahem. I have not seen your little hero, and if I do, I’ll have you know that
after that little incident in my class, I will personally see to it that he is
punished most severely. If I have to chain him to the wall and paddle him
myself, then by Merlin I’ll do it,” Snape stated calmly as he continued grading
papers.
Harry choked at those words. Thankfully the sound was muffled by the member in
his mouth. The words must have hit Ron in the same way, for he could hear him
spluttering slightly.
“Um, er, well sir, thank you for your time.” Harry heard the scampering of a
pair of feet and the door slamming shut behind him.
The chair made a scraping sound on the stone as Snape slid back again, grasping
Harry’s head between his hands and thrusting in, hitting the back of his
throat. Harry’s heart sped up in time with Snape’s violent thrusts, nervousness
gripping him firmly. Just a minute ago the professor was so composed, and now
he seemed uncontrollable, his head thrown back and growls erupting from his
throat.
Yeah, he probably had gotten off on the idea that Harry was sucking him off in
front of his best friend.
Snape’s grip on his head was like steel, and Harry stopped moving completely as
he pounded into him.
“Ah—ah—yes, Potter, you like it, don’t you? You—like—sneaking about, right
underneath their—noses,” he groaned breathlessly, and with one final thrust, he
came, shooting his seed down Harry’s throat. Harry coughed and then swallowed
around Snape, tasting salty bitterness as it flowed down his throat. The man
pulled out, spurting a little of his semen on Harry’s face.
Snape sighed, leaning back in the chair, his eyes closed and strands of greasy
hair sticking to his face. Harry wiped his mouth as the conflicting emotions
rushed through him again. In those moments, however brief, Snape owned him,
dominated him. Laid claim to him like no one had before. But now it was over,
and it would Harry would be forgotten. A thought flitted through his mind and
he grabbed the tail of it. How many other students had knelt before the
professor, trying to compensate for a good grade? Harry rose and stretched his
limbs, his muscles sore and knees raw. He started for the door, but had barely
made it three steps of the way when suddenly an arm reached out and pulled him
back.
“Do you really think we are done already? We’ve only just begun.” Snape’s lips
twisted in a sneer, and Harry stared at him, past the smirk and into his eyes.
They glittered like a midnight sky filled with hidden stars, speaking to him
and piercing into his emerald depths. Snape raised his wand and flicked it at
him wordlessly, and the next instant Harry was bent across the table where his
cauldron now sat. Oh dear Merlin. Harry was still painfully hard, and he
whimpered as he twisted his neck around to look at the professor, who had
walked to the black board and picked up the long wooden pointer that sat next
to the chalk, running his fingers up and down its length.
“I have always wondered why we have these here,” Snape began conversationally,
circling the table where Harry was currently positioned. “They use them in
Muggle schools to point out words for elementary students, but why have them at
Hogwarts?” He was behind him now, his free hand rubbing Harry’s bottom through
his trousers, then crept around to the front, easily unbuttoned them, and
tugged on the boxers. They pooled around Harry’s feet as Snape continued to
pace around him again. “I’ve longed to find a use for it, finally…”
And before Harry could question what that use was, Snape rammed the pointer
into him.
Harry let out a shriek of shock. It wasn’t exactly painful, but the action
caught him off guard. Snape ran his tongue along the shell of his ear, his
breath caressing him, his body pressing up against his bent form as he twisted
the rod around in a circular motion. Suddenly it hit something inside him, and
sparks shot through him. Wow, this was amazing, better than any dream. Snape
pulled the rod out and set it down on the table, his hand reaching around to
stroke Harry. Harry bucked in his hand, panting like a racehorse.
Almost…there…so close, ohhh it felt so good…
Then Snape stopped.
Harry let out a little whimper of disappointment. He watched as his teacher
picked up the pointer again, this time dragging the tip along the dripping head
of his cock. He lifted it off and Harry saw the tip of it glistening with his
pre come.
 
Snape smirked and languidly ran his tongue over the pointer. “Mmmmm.”
Harry’s body was at war with his mind. He knew what he should do, yet he wanted
to find release, wanted more fire. “Please, sir.” Harry winced at the sound of
his own voice, hoarse from the damage Snape had inflicted to the back of his
throat. He was begging, he was weak…
“I wonder,” Snape whispered, flush against his back again, nipping and biting
the exposed flesh of his neck, “if the rest of you tastes just as delicious.”
He trailed his hands down his body until he reached Harry’s bottom and petted
it softly.
 
Harry whimpered as his hot skin tingled with the contact, then Snape’s hands
left his arse and inched forward towards his hardness, rubbing his thumb over
the slit and beginning to stroke it gently.
“Ah, yes, my little Gryffindor. What would your faithful sidekicks say if they
could see you now, bent over a desk with your bum in the air and my come on
your face…begging for my touch. Hmmm? Ahhh…”
Harry bucked as the heat spread through his veins and the blood pumped
faster…pleasure shooting inside him in every direction…the fire that was slowly
burning in the pit of his belly grew and the flames licked higher…his voice—oh!
His voice was wood feeding the fire, it was cool water washing over his parched
senses, it was soft and silky and beautiful like a rose petal…it was
everything. There was nothing in the world but Snape’s hands caressing him, his
body, pressed up against him, molded to him, his heat seeping into Harry’s body
and soul…his voice, warm and wet and fire and water all at the same time. Oh
yes, Harry was Snape’s now, he knew it. The serpent had the lion trapped in his
coils and was devouring him.
Harry cried out as the fire consumed him. There would be nothing left of him
but ashes strewn across the floor, the pleasure was too much, too
intoxicating—he quivered and pulsed and shuddered as the blaze of pleasure
dimmed.
Snape stepped back and waved his wand at Harry, and the invisible bonds
trapping him on the table dissolved into nothingness. He shivered, his bones
and muscles seemed to melt and he fell to the side like a limp doll. He wasn't
fast enough to brace himself—but Snape caught him in his arms just before he
hit the floor.
Dear merciful Merlin.
Harry tried to shake himself out of his stupor. Shouldn't he feel disgust, or
self loathing, or shame? But he only felt content and warm as Snape scooped him
up in his arms and carried him over to his desk, clearing off the surface so
that he could lay Harry on top. But as soon as Snape let him go, Harry felt
cold. The cool air in the dungeons felt refreshing to his skin, yet, to his
horror, he found himself longing for the warmth of Snape’s body. He slid off
the desk, and the professor pulled him onto his lap, wrapping his arms around
him in what would have been an embrace—but it wasn't really, was it? This was
just a one time thing, and they would go back to hating each other and he would
go back to lusting for his teacher from afar. But all this warmth and
afterglow…it was something even more unbelievable than the actual act itself.
The fire, the passion, the desire, he understood. But the caring and
tenderness…was it just a mockery? A farce?
‘Oh, you think too much, Harry. Enjoy yourself. How many other chances will you
get?’
Harry sighed in defeat, burying his head in the crook of Snape’s neck and
lifting his arms up around him. He breathed in the scent of Snape’s skin, a
heady, layered musk with a hint spice…like cinnamon. Oh, he smelled so good…
What a sight they must be. He wondered what would happen if someone like
McGonagall barged in to find him curled up like a kitten in Snape’s lap.
‘Professor?’ he mumbled against his neck, and he felt Snape tense slightly.
“Yes, Mr. Potter?’ He ran one hand gently down his spine.
“Does this, er, does this mean I get out of detention after all?”
Snape chuckled again. “You’ve been a very good boy. I believe you deserve a
letter raise. And, ten points to Gryffindor,” he grumbled slightly when he said
it, “for assisting a professor with…a project.’
Harry’s lips quirked, betraying him by forming a smile. Smiling in front of
Snape-- well, there was a first time for everything.
“Now then, Potter, I believe we are finished here. Dinner is soon, and I have
papers to finish grading. But first—“
And he stretched his neck upward; brushing his lips against Harry’s, his tongue
running along the seam of his lips. Harry obliged, opening his mouth against
Snape’s, delving his tongue into the wet warmth. He relished the taste, and the
sounds, and the feel of it…it absorbed his very soul, he melted into the moment
and all else faded away.
After several moments, Harry broke away, gasping and staring into Snape’s eyes,
obsidian jewels holding a glimmer of flame that threatened to spill over and
set him on fire. Harry gave him a quick peck, and blushing, slid off of his
lap. He reached the door and glanced over to see Snape gazing at him with the
barest hint of a smile on his face, but the smile reflected in his dark eyes,
and despite his harsh and unlovely features, it was a beautiful sight. Harry
almost let out another sigh of contentment.
………………..
As he headed for the Great Hall, Harry Potter, one Boy-Who-Lived, mulled over
the events of the day. He ran his hand through his hair and grinned. Maybe he
could convince Ron to do some extra credit for Snape sometime.
But at that thought, he was filled with jealousy. He didn't want anyone else
with Snape. No one but him.
He was screwed.
He entered the Great Hall, his shirt un-tucked and his tie askew, and headed
over towards Hermione and Ron.
“Well, where the bloody hell have you been?”
“It’s about time you showed up!” Ron and Hermione chorused as Harry sat down in
the empty chair beside them.
Harry gave them an innocent smile.
“Why, I was just fulfilling my duties as Quidditch captain, of course.”
And with that, he drained his cup of pumpkin juice in one gulp. For some
reason, his throat was incredibly sore.
 
The End
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
