
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7885975.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J.K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape, Severus_Snape/Other(s)
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Albus_Dumbledore, Rubeus_Hagrid, Gilderoy
      Lockhart
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Bestiality, Unusual_Sexual
      Situation
  Collections:
      Ink_Stained_Fingers
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-22 Words: 3284
****** SSSlytherin! ******
by Byrdie
Summary
     What can happen when a wizard flunks Latin. I know, I suck at these.
     Sorry.
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: Characters are HERS, not mine, more’s the pity.
     Written purely for fannish entertainment, no galleons changed hands.
     Special thanks to my fearless beta,Lara, who worked all sorts of
     magic so I could finish this in time.
     Special Note: It is NOT bestiality sexual abuse of an animal when
     your normally human mate becomes
     a shapechanger. But if you can’t
     handle that, hit the you-know-what
     key. Flames will be used to cook the extra large cauldron of Pest
     Begone Potion I keep on hand for their senders and other rude folk.
SSSlytherin!




  "Severus Snape, you sexy bitch. Mine, all mine, at last."
  The dark hooded figure ran a firm, possessive hand over the naked, bound body
  upon the bed. The Hogwarts Potions Master shuddered, his coal eyes flaming
  with anger, not desire. Along with a good healthy dose of loathing and
  contempt. Despite the feeble attempt at disguise he knew the owner of that
  hand, that voice. Gilderoy Lockhart, former DADA professor and pompous ninny
  extraordinaire. Snape wrinkled his nose in disgust while wriggling away -- at
  least as far as the enchanted manacles would permit, which was no more than
  an inch or so in either direction -- from Lockhart's repulsive touch. Not
  even as a prisoner in Voldemort's torture chambers had he known such
  debasement. Then again, neither the Dark Lord nor any of his lackeys were
  particularly interested in rape at the time ... unlike this insipid blond
  git.
  Lockhart leered and groped him again in an obscene attempt to coax a response
  from the flaccid flesh between his legs, which were spread painfully apart,
  ankles chained fast to the bedposts. Thrust three dry fingers deep inside
  him. Snape burned. Bled. He howled, as much from anger as from pain.
  Thanks to stone walls and magic, nobody heard him. Lockhart clumsily shoved
  in the bulbous head of his ugly, unwashed prick while chanting the spell to
  arouse one's sex partner. Time, alas, had done nothing to improve the idiot's
  competency. Or his pronounciation: what should have been "animal passion"
  came out "animal nature" instead. Severus screamed as the charm-turned-hex
  took effect.
  He was still screaming, albeit mentally, when he woke up in his own bed in
  his dungeon at Hogwarts. Wrapped tightly around the lush young body of his
  one true love, Harry James Potter.
  =============================================================================
  THREE DAYS EARLIER:
  Hagrid was at his wit's end. Here he was, Hogwarts resident expert on the
  Care of Magical Creatures, and his newest acquisition was apparently hell-
  bent on starving itself to death. A Morelia Boeleni, distant cousin to the
  Runespoor, turning up its nose in disdain at the choice selection of
  available live prey offered -- who ever heard of such a thing? Not unless it
  were sick (this one wasn't) or out of sorts due to being too hot or, more
  likely, too cold. Which was no longer the case; the poor half-frozen thing
  he'd come across at the edge of Forbidden Forest the other day bore almost no
  resemblance to this fine specimen. At least thirteen feet from nose to tail,
  when he (here Hagrid was only guessing, no way to be certain unless it laid
  eggs) deigned to stretch fully out.
  Black, highly iridescent scales that seemed almost patternless at first
  glance but flecked with ivory here and there, mostly around his mouth, neck,
  and belly. A large, well-formed head atop a slender -- but muscular -- body.
  All in all, a beautiful beastie, thought the giant; now if only he would eat!
  "How many more times must I tell you," Severus hissed, his tail lashing about
  in vexation at his predicament. " I do NOT eat meat. Milk, yesss. Eggs,
  yesss. Fish and poultry, only occasionally. Live rodentsss, never. I prefer
  fresh fruit and vegetables." He was hardly likely to confess to his great
  weakness for frogs ... ones of the chocolate variety.
  Hagrid backed carefully away, lest he be walloped or worse, bitten. He threw
  up his hands in despair: give him a hippogriff or a unicorn any day, at least
  you could reason with those. Talking sense into a ---
  And the light dawned. A talking Boelinin? Obviously the animal was trying to
  communicate with him. Trouble was, Hagrid couldn't understand a word. What he
  wanted was an interpreter, translation spells were useless for this. He
  needed someone who spoke the language as if it were his mother tongue, then
  he'd get to the root of his little problem with "Morrie" here. Hagrid
  grinned. "Now don't you be worryin' yerself," he said. "Harry Potter'll know
  just what to do."
  The transfigured potions master hung his head and sighed. Bloody unlikely, he
  thought. The "Boy Who Lived" would be much too busy.
  Laughing his Gryffindor arse off.
  #
  To Harry's credit, he didn't so much as snicker when the python addressed him
  in Snape's oh-so-familiar sarcastic tones. Hagrid, on the other hand, nearly
  fainted on being informed that his new pet was in truth the head of
  Slytherin, chief spy for Dumbledore and presumed victim of Deatheater foul
  play.
  "Not Deatheatersss," Severus told them later, in the privacy of the
  Headmaster's office. He did not want to go into all of the details,
  especially those concerning the rape, but he had no other choice. Not only
  was there no other parseltongue-gifted wizard around to interpret for him,
  but if they were going to have a relationship -- now that the young man had
  come of age and Voldemort was no longer a threat -- anything less than total
  honesty between them was out of the question. "Gilderoy Lockhart."
  Dumbledore blinked. "I thought he was still in St. Mungo's."
  "He was. Until he stole Polyjuice potion from an orderly -- Merlin only knows
  why the imbecile had it in the first place! -- and used it to make him look
  like one of the doctors. Then he just waltzed through the front door as if he
  owned the place." That was essientially what had happened; there was no way
  Harry would translate his whole speech word for word. Not with Snape using
  those kind of words.
  "But why kidnap you? He wasn't in league with ..."
  Little by little, the whole sordid story came out.
  =============================================================================
  "Insane or not," Harry swore, not for the first time. "I'm going to murder
  the son of a bitch." On second thought, that was too good for Lockhart; much
  better to hunt him down and hit him with every Unforgivable he knew, short of
  the killing curse. This was not the way he'd pictured their first night
  together.
  As if reading his mind, Severus pulled away. He slid off the bed and rolled
  himself into a tight scaly ball all the way over on the other side of the
  room. "SSSorry," he whispered. He would have wept, so great was his misery,
  but tears were another thing this form denied him. "I didn't mean to ... I
  know what I am... a ssslimy SSSlytherin, not fit to..."
  In a flash, Harry was beside him. "Don't say that. Don't EVER say that! He's
  the one that's not fit. The one that deserves Azkaban and worse for hurting
  my beautiful lover."
  "SSSome lover! I can't even hold you properly."
  "But I can hold you. And I just love it when you're all coiled around me; it
  makes me feel safe. Cherished. Protected."
  Sev stared, dumbfounded. "Really?" Harry smiled and kissed him. "Really.
  There's just one thing I'm afraid of."
  "Only one?" Snape could think of dozens. Hundreds. Then again, Potter was a
  Gryffindor. More guts than brains, that ought to be their motto.
  "Uh huh." The brat was teasing him and he knew it. Which only added to the
  attraction. "I'm afraid that when we figure out how to change you back I'll
  lose my favorite snugglebunny."
  "Not in a million yearsss," Snape declared, and wound tenderly about him.
  =============================================================================
  The days turned into weeks, and still there was no change in Severus'
  condition, as Pomfrey kept referring to it. As it was no longer possible for
  him to teach, Sirius Black, who'd been exonerated by the Ministry the
  previous year, temporarily took over all of his potions classes. The students
  were told only that Snape had met with an accident from which he was still
  recovering. Since he needed rest and quiet, visitors were not allowed, the
  only exceptions being Harry and Dumbledore. Not trusting his beloved's care
  to gossipy house elves, Harry had moved in with him, nearly a month earlier
  than planned. Between getting used to his new body and getting to know his
  bondmate better, Severus had little time to be bored, although he did miss
  potions. Terribly, in fact. So much for all the rumors that he still coveted
  promotion, even though the Dark Arts position was filled, at last by a
  competent instructor.
  The weather had turned perfectly horrendous, causing Quidditch practice to be
  cancelled. Harry didn't mind in the least, he was much too comfortable where
  he was. In an overstuffed armchair in front of the fireplace, cuddling with
  Severus. Who, at the moment, was one contented reptile. This despite the fact
  that it had been ages since they'd managed a proper snog -- one couldn't
  really count a couple of rushed encounters in the Astronomy tower between
  battles with Voldemort, could one? He'd promised them both the last time...
  but look how that had turned out.
  A discreet cough interrupted his reverie. Albus, of course. Nobody else could
  get past his wards. "Yesss?" It came out much snarkier than than he'd meant,
  but he was nervous. Harry couldn't blame him, seeing as how Dumbledore was
  not at all his cheery self. No doubt more bad news.
  "Good afternoon to you too, Severus. Harry." Surely that wasn't embarrassment
  Harry sensed. What on earth for? Their position could hardly be seen as
  compromising ...even if he happened to have a naked Snape in his lap.
  "Afternoon, Headmaster." Curious glance at the ancient tome in Dumbledore's
  hands. It had to be from the restricted section, though Harry couldn't
  remember ever having seen it before. He'd have to ask Hermione sometime,
  these days she practically lived in the library. "Have you found anything?"
  "As a matter of fact..." The old wizard was blushing. He tapped the red
  leather volume with his wand. "Page 669."
 The book opened. Severus and Harry both gasped, the younger of the pair
  turning beet red all over. "You've got to be kidding. I didn't even think
  that was anatomically possible."
  "SSSurely there mussst be another way." There had to be. That looked
  dangerous. Sexy as hell but ... no, he could lose control. Harry could get
  hurt. It wasn't worth it.
  "I'm afraid not," Albus replied. "It seems this particular curse is related
  to Lycanthropus. It can't be cured. However, if the victim is fortunate
  enough to be bonded to a powerful wizard, he or she becomes an Animagus,
  completely able to control the transformation."
  Harry brightened. "And we establish control by --"
  "Completing your bond as soon as possible." Well, he'd sort of figured that.
  Dumbledore added, "With one important variation: your essences must be shared
  simultaneously, otherwise the spell won't work."
  #
  "Of all the insufferably stubborn gits!" Harry shouted in Snape's face. "Why
  I ever fell in love with ... gods all damnit, don't you even want to be human
  again?"
  Severeus reared. Spat. "Don't be ssstupid. You know I do. But I will not put
  you at risssk. We'll find another way."
  "You heard Albus. And you read the book. There is no other way." Harry was
  right, Snape realized. The knowledge was not comforting.
  "What if I hurt you? I could, you know."
  "That was true even before this happened," Harry pointed out. "And I could
  hurt you. But I won't. I trust you, the same as you trust me." He bit his
  lip. "You do trust me, don't you?"
  Severus tried to nod yes but found he wasn't quite designed for it. He
  settled for nuzzling Harry's cheek. "Alwaysss, dear heart."
  "Then let me give you this, my love. Please?"
  Oh no, not puppy dog eyes! Snape caved. "Very well. But we do it my way."
  #
  A thorough cleansing was part of the ritual. Harry, being virgin, found it
  somewhat uncomfortable at first, but he quickly became accustomed to the
  sensations of fluid and fullness. Next came the preparation and contraceptive
  spells -- wizard males could get pregnant as easily as females, and while
  they both wanted to have children, they'd decided to wait until after
  graduation to start a family. Finally, a period of meditation to center
  himself, then he was ready.
  He lay, at his lover's insistance, in the exact center of their bed, his hips
  raised on a convenient pillow. Already he was hard and leaking ... and Snape
  had done nothing more than look!
  "SSSo beautiful," Severus crooned. "Now close your eyesss, my angel." Harry
  shook his head. "No, I won't pretend. You are my heart and soul. My husband,
  forsaking all others. And I will always desire you, no matter what body you
  choose to wear." With that, he held out his hand for his lover to join him.
  Solid stone could not refuse an invitation like that, let alone Severus
  Snape. Gracefully, gratefully he slithered into the embrace. Longed with all
  his being to return it, to make love to his husband like any other man on
  this, their wedding night. But without hands to touch or lips to kiss...
  He'd have to be very, very creative. Meanwhile, Harry was doing splendid, no,
  heroic service in that department. Not a single inch of Severus' considerable
  length -- and girth -- went neglected. He was stroked, licked and nibbled all
  over until at last he lay, a ribbon of bliss, between Harry's elegantly
  splayed thighs.
  Twisting around, he found himself nose to eye with his beloved's cock. My,
  what a pretty thing it was, all ripe and dusky, dripping with need. He wanted
  nothing more than to take it. Savor it awhile, then suck it hard and swallow
  it whole, draining every single drop of delicious cream. He opened his mouth.
  And remembered he now had fangs. His mouth was designed for trapping, holding
  and devouring prey, not performing fellatio. He drooped, radiating his
  frustration. Blessed Merlin! If he hadn't caught himself in time.... He
  shuddered in horror at the thought.
  Trust Harry to take matters into his own hands. If Severus needed
  encouragement.... Idly, he began to toy with his nipples, tweaking each
  dainty bud in turn. Roll, pinch, twist. Whimper. "Want you, baby." Right hand
  trailing along his abdomen. Down, down, stopping a moment to play with
  lightly fuzzed balls before wrapping around his aching, straining shaft.
  Slicking it with his juices from crown to base and stroking. Kneading away at
  his hot, throbbing flesh. "Need you. Need you so bad." Moaning and writhing,
  a well-practiced finger teasing, probing. In and out of the tight little
  hole. "Inside me, please?"
  The little slut! How could Snape -- how could anyone -- resist the likes of
  that? Utterly impossible, he thought, body responding automatically to the
  totally wanton display. His tail curled in mating position at Harry's
  opening, engorged organs emerging from his belly vent. "Yesss." Taking a firm
  grip on his libido, which was urging him to just slam home and get on with
  it, he slowly pushed past the guardian muscle. When fully sheathed he paused,
  letting his lover adjust to his presence. Carefully watching, listening,
  scenting his love's reactions. He would do absolutely nothing that Harry
  wasn't ready for.
  The slight burn of entry faded into pleasure and Harry found himself in a
  quandary. On the one hand, he loved Sev's gentleness and consideration. On
  the other, he felt like hexing him six ways to Sunday for being so bloody
  slow. Not that there was anything wrong with taking one's time, mind you, but
  this was ridiculous. They were supposed to come together; however at this
  rate... he tightened his muscles around the intruder. No, intruders, he
  reminded himself, suppressing an unseemly giggle. Snape as a snake had two
  stiff pricks and both were up his tender young arse. Now if only he would
  just ...
  "Move, damnit," Harry pleaded, fearing for his sanity. "Fuck me now and fuck
  me hard." Virgin or no, he was a man, not some delicate little china doll. He
  pushed back, forcing an even deeper penetration as his lover started to
  thrust. "Yes...like that...oooh!" That last stroke was a doozy; he could
  swear he saw lightning. Must've been his prostate or something. He only knew
  he wanted: "More!" He had to have it, he'd die if he didn't. "There!
  Argghhh!" Pumping himself in a frenzy with both hands now, desperate to come.
  He wasn't the only one. "Can't ...hold...back," Severus warned, breathless.
  Gods, but he was close! Again and again he plowed Harry's moist heat, craving
  release with every fiber of his being.
  "Then...don't." Harry gasped. Shivered as a serpentine tongue flicked over
  the head of his dick, one prong teasing its weeping slit. Moaned as it
  pressed harder, mimicking the same perfect rhythm to which he was being oh so
  gloriously shagged. With a loud, wordless cry, he came, shooting great blasts
  of hot salty jism right down his lover's waiting throat.
  Less than a heartbeat later Severus' own climax hit, so hard he'd be
  screaming the castle walls down in his ecstasy -- if he hadn't been too busy
  swallowing that big luscious load. So good! Harry's muscles fluttered and
  clenched around him, gripping and milking. He poured forth a veritable flood
  of thick, creamy cum. "Love you," he managed to say right before passing out,
  cocks buried to the hilt in his husband's lusty arsehole.
  "Love you too," replied the sated Harry Potter-Snape. A jaw cracking yawn and
  he was fast asleep.
  =============================================================================
  TWO WEEKS LATER:
  The honeymooners finally emerged from the dungeon. Harry looked like
  something Mrs. Norris wouldn't drag in while Sev was his own sweet Slytherin
  self...minus the scales, et al. They entered the Great Hall with some
  trepidation, considering what Dobby and company had 'arranged' last
  Valentine's Day, when news of their courtship -- until then secret because of
  Voldemort -- leaked out. This time, thank Merlin, headache and anti-nausea
  potions would not be needed. The decor, while romantic in keeping with the
  occasion, was actually quite tasteful. McGonnagal must have put her foot
  down, Harry thought. No way on earth could the great Albus Dumbledore, master
  mage that he was, handle a herd of house elves run amok.
  "I totally agree." A hint of laughter, sarcastic but by no means cruel, in
  that dark sexy voice. Oops, Harry hadn't meant to broadcast. This telepathy
  thing they had going would take some getting used to, as would certain other
  ... aspects ... of their bond. The younger man's face rivaled his formal
  House robes as he remembered Sev's idea of a wake up call. Later, he would
  admit he hadn't heard a word of the Headmaster's welcome back/
  congratulations, newlyweds speech -- except for the "let the Feast begin"
  part. He was far too concerned with other matters, namely how best to return
  the favor. With interest, the Potions Master really had it coming. Hmm...
  coming. Harry briefly lowered his shields, allowing his mate a glimpse of a
  very naughty thought.
  Much to everybody's amusement, Professor Severus Snape-Potter yelped as if
  he'd just been goosed by a gargoyle. Or worse, Filch. Embarrassed, he buried
  his face in his hands, highly tempted to change forms and slither away. Out
  to the Shrieking Shack -- who'd think to look for him there? -- and under the
  biggest rock he could find. He would, too, if he thought he could get away
  with it. Alas, he hadn't a prayer. That unruly brat would probably transform
  into a bloody mongoose and drag him off into the bushes, the better to have
  his wicked way. Severus groaned and, when he was sure nobody was watching,
  reached under his robes to adjust his suddenly too-tight trousers. No doubt
  about it, this was going to be one of those days. What he wouldn't give for
  an old-fashioned Deatheater attack right about now. Anything to distract him
  from those tantalizing green Gryffindor eyes.
  Harry smirked and fed him a piece of wedding cake.
  =============================================================================
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