Categories > Books > Harry Potter

Horrid

by lolaraincoat

Professor Snape discusses academic ethics with Harry and Ron. Co-authored with Sociofemme

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: NC-17 - Genres: Action/Adventure, Humor - Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Snape - Warnings: [R] [V] [X] - Published: 2005-06-22 - Updated: 2005-06-23 - 8006 words - Complete

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Author's Notes: This coauthored story, by Sociofemme and Lolaraincoat, started as semi-facetious comment porn, until one of us decided that there needed to be more smut in the world. Huge, huge thanks to both of our betae, Florahart and Idlerat, who polished off our rough edges. Any remaining problems are all our fault.

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"What's that, Hermione?" asked Ron at the breakfast table, his mouth full. He craned his neck to look at the package that had just arrived for Hermione.

She was too engrossed to answer, so Ron lifted a corner of the thin volume from across the table. "Potions Review Quarterly," he read. "Sounds deadly." Harry, who was trying to persuade the delivery owl to accept one of his kippers, snorted.

"They might have published some of my work," she said, as she leafed though the first few pages. "My write-up of my research from last term -- Professor Snape said it was 'adequate,' and that the PRQ might be interested." She sighed. "Oh well, it looks like they didn't put it into the 'Notes on New Research' section after all. Too bad." Her voice trailed off as she turned her attention to the longer articles. A few minutes later, she added "Oh, look! Professor Snape's got an article in. It's ... about ... about ... --"

She gaped at the page. "What?" asked Harry. But she didn't answer. Instead, face white, she rose from the table, holding the journal as though it were one of Hagrid's most dangerous and foul-smelling small creatures, and stalked out of the Great Hall.

Ron looked at Harry and shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, mate," he said, and applied his attention back to his breakfast.


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Hermione was still gasping a little from her sprint to the potions classroom, but that didn't keep her from yelling.

"You - you cheat! "

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Mind how you address your professors, Miss Granger. Five points from Gryffindor."

"You stole my research! You stole my ideas! You -- you're a /thief/!"

"Come now, Miss Granger. The appropriate response is 'I'm sorry, Professor.'" Snape paused, smiling as happily as anyone had ever seen him smile. "And that will be another fifteen points."

"You're enjoying this! You -- you --" Hermione sputtered incoherently, bubbling over with rage.

Snape feigned boredom. "Not at all, Miss Granger. If you would excuse me, I have some correspondence from my most recent article to answer." He quivered with barely suppressed amusement when this statement elicited a shriek of rage.

"That's my article! I wrote it! I did all the work, and you know it! You shameless, slimy, horrible ...git!!"

But her professor didn't respond, merely ushered her out of the classroom with a grip on her upper arm that was just a bit too tight.


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Hermione didn't show up for History of Magic class, and she never missed class. Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked at Harry. Suddenly, Harry doubled over, coughing as if he might lose a lung.

Ron jumped up in alarm. "I'd better take him to the infirmary right away!" he shouted at Professor Binns, who didn't seem to notice. He led Harry away, still coughing, despite cynical and suspicious looks from their housemates.

As soon as they were clear of the door, they sprinted back to Gryffindor Tower for the Marauder's Map.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" asked the Fat Lady.

"Flibbertigibbet!" Ron snapped back.

"The same to you, I'm sure," she said, annoyed, but she opened her portrait anyway. "In my day, young men had manners, and they didn't --" they could hear her saying as she swung shut behind them.

"Barking," said Ron, already half-way up the steps to the dormitory.

"Always has been," said Harry.

"I hope Hermione isn't in the girls' dormitory," said Ron. "I mean, how are we going to find out what's wrong if we can't even talk to her?"

"We've got brooms," replied Harry shortly. "So what if we can't step on the stairs?"

"Right," said Ron, struck by this great good sense as he thumped the dormitory door open and they dove for Harry's trunk.

"IsolemnlyswearthatIamuptonogood," he gasped, tapping the Map, and it obligingly spread out before them.

"Myrtle's bathroom," said Harry, with his quick eye. "She must be having a cry over something."

Ron looked uneasy. "Do we -- I mean, should we really --" He squirmed with acute embarrassment.

"We need to find out what's wrong. I bet Snape has something to do with it, and we can't let him get away with it," decided Harry.

Ron sighed. "Right."

They sprinted back down from Gryffindor Tower, ignoring the Fat Lady's infuriated screech - "My varnish, you young hooligans!" - as they banged against her frame. But they both hesitated at the door to the girl's bath.

"You first," said Ron.

Harry shot him a dark look, but knocked lightly and opened the door. "Hermione?" he asked tentatively.

"She's in there," said Myrtle, popping up right under their noses and pointing to the second stall from the left. "She's been crying for an hour, almost. It must have been awful, whatever you nasty boys did to her." She didn't look particularly displeased at the thought.

Harry tapped at the door Myrtle had indicated. "Hermione? Everything okay?"

She opened the stall door. Her eyes were swollen, but her fists were clenched and her knuckles looked like she'd been punching the stone wall.

She wiped her eyes briskly with a corner of her sleeve, then made a face and lowered her arm.

"I'm not crying because I'm unhappy," she explained, struggling to get the words out, "I'm crying because I'm so angry."

Ron looked puzzled; Harry nodded understandingly.

Ron, hesitantly, fished his handkerchief from his sleeve and offered it to Hermione. She started to raise it to her eyes, but paused before she touched it to her face, her nose crinkling. She handed it back and sniffed determinedly.

"Thanks, but I don't need this ... and anyway it's a bit ... horrid."

Ron blushed. "What happened?" he asked, distracting them from the state of his hankie.

"Oh, Snape," said Hermione. She handed Harry the potions journal, crumpled from her rage. "He published my work."

"So?" asked Ron, starting to grin. "That's great, isn't it! You're published!"

"Ron," said Harry, looking at the page, "He published it without her name on it. He published it with HIS name on it. Isn't that plagiarism?" he asked Hermione.

"Of course it is! He's a dirty, foul --" Hermione choked again.

Harry clenched his fists. "The question is," he said slowly, "what are we going to do about Snape? It's time someone taught him a lesson."

"I'm in," said Hermione resolutely.

"No," said Harry. "No, I think Ron and I should do this for you. Keep your hands clean," he said, looking at her smudged, bloody knuckles.

"Yeah," said Ron, a murderous gleam in his eye. "You might get squeamish."

Hermione looked indignant for a moment, then she caught sight of her watch. "Classes!" she squeaked.

"You take notes for us," said Ron, grinning at her.

"Of course not," she said, looking horrified. "You have to come to class! Think of your NEWTs!"

Harry nodded slowly, and gave Ron a significant look. "Snape'll be in class too. Best to wait 'til after."

"Yeah," said Ron, cracking his knuckles meaningfully. "Yeah."



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Classes plodded for the rest of the day. Ron and Harry passed bloodthirsty notes back and forth, and whenever Hermione intercepted one, she added little animations to their doodles -- broken bones, spurting blood, and, once, an exploding head.

During dinner, Ron and Harry quietly debated strategies for getting back at Snape, but Hermione got gradually paler and paler. At a particularly shocking idea of Harry's, she buried her face in her hands.

"I don't want to know," she said softly, but firmly. "Do what you want, but don't tell me about it."

Ron looked at Harry, then, more warily, back at Hermione. "This is because of being Head Girl, isn't it? Don't you want an apology from that thieving bastard?"

"Well ... yes," she said thoughtfully, "yes, I do. But he's a teacher. We have to take classes with him for a whole term after this -- think! What can you really do?"

Harry patted Hermione comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Hermione. We won't do anything too extreme. He won't even bother treating us any different in class."

Ron craned his neck to stare at Harry. Harry's face was bland, innocent -- and one eyelid was dropping slightly in a sly wink. Ron grinned, then schooled his face into similarly innocent lines. "Yeah, don't worry. You don't have to do a thing. You can get together with Ginny and Luna and, um, study, see? Like usual?"

"Sure!" Harry said. "Snape will see reason. We won't really have to ... do anything, right? Anyway, what could a couple of seventh-years do to a Death Eater?"

"Former Death Eater," corrected Hermione.

"Oh, right," said Ron "former Death Eater. Do you want some more pudding, Hermione?"

She raised her head. "Chocolate?"



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So, after dinner, Hermione went off for one of those girls-only study sessions the sixth- and seventh-years had been so keen on lately, and Harry and Ron trailed Snape downstairs to the laboratories. They planned in hoarse whispers for only a moment before Ron yelled "Reducto!" at Snape's office door. The crack of the breaking door masked whatever spell Harry shouted next. But when they stepped through the rubble, Snape was lying on the floor, encased in ropes.

"Untie me this instant, Potter!" Snape snarled, gobbets of spittle spraying. Ron cast a Silencing Charm hastily around, and repaired the door well enough to block them from sight.

"No," said Harry determinedly. "Not till you've got what's coming to you."

"And what could a pair of scrawny schoolboys ever do to me? You have a vastly inflated image of yourselves if you think for one minute --"

Snape was shaking, as furious now as Hermione had been that morning in Myrtle's bathroom. The reminder seemed to bolster Harry's resolve, and he took careful aim with his wand.

"Legilimens!" he shouted.

Harry jerked and looked stunned as Ron watched Snape desperately try to clutch his head, looking as if he was in pain. Harry staggered back and lowered his wand.

"You pervert," Harry whispered to Snape, looking shocked. He smiled cruelly. "Is that what Dumbledore sees when he reads your mind, Snape? Is that what Voldemort saw?"

Snape seemed enraged beyond speech; Ron almost feared for the strength of his bonds. He muttered the spell again, reinforcing the restraints. "What did you see?"

"Or is that the reason why you're here?" mused Harry, ignoring Ron. "Hmmm. Let's have another go, shall we?" Again, he leveled his wand at Snape and cast the spell, Snape jerking helplessly like a ugly marionette.

"Merlin, Snape," Harry snorted in amusement. "Guess you had to fuck over Hermione the only way you could, is that right? Does Dumbledore know you think about your students like that?"

"Harry!" Ron whispered frantically, "tell me what you see!"

Harry kept his wand on Snape but cut his eyes toward Ron, who was shifting from one foot to the other from sheer, restless curiosity. Harry took a long breath. "Erm, well," he hesitated, "Ron, maybe you should go see how Hermione is doing."

"No way!" Ron said, looking enthusiastically at Snape's futile struggles against the charmed ropes. "Besides, I'm sure Ginny and Luna are taking good care of her. Unless you think the girls might want to watch?"

Hearing this, Snape found his voice again. "Watch WHAT?" he bellowed. Obviously he had more faith in Ron's Silencing Charm than Ron did, or else he just didn't care who heard them. "Just how many of your cretinous peers are you planning to involve in this ... this fiasco? I'm warning you, I can have you all expelled!" He lurched against the ropes, almost comical but for the look of murder in his eyes.

Harry's eyes narrowed. He took a step toward Snape and leaned down until until their noses were almost touching. "Oh, but you won't," he said in a voice so low Ron had to take a step closer to hear it. "Because you know what will happen if you do." Harry grabbed Snape's robes at the collar and hauled him -- still bound -- to his feet, all in one steady motion. "You're going to take your punishment, and thank us for it, and apologise, and never do it again."

Ron had never heard Harry sound so very sure of himself. It was impressive. And Ron was even more impressed when Harry moved just a little closer to Snape and pulled his head down into a long, open-mouthed kiss. By the end Harry's hips were grinding against the front of Snape's robe and the ropes that held him still. And Snape was - was he whimpering? Yes, parts of Ron were growing very impressed indeed.

"Harry," Ron said loudly. "I don't think the girls ought to watch this."

Harry broke off from the kiss to look at Ron dazedly. Clearly he had no recollection of their previous exchange. Ron felt thought slipping away at the sight of Harry's lust-glazed expression. He ignored Snape's dagger glare completely.

"Never mind," he said thickly. "Er, carry on."

"No, mate," Harry said, beckoning him closer, "I bet Snape has some Weasley fantasy tucked away in that greasy brain of his; it looks like he fantasizes about just about everyone else he's ever met - especially students."

Ron snorted. "So long as it wasn't my dad he was thinking about."

All three shuddered briefly.

"So c'mere," said Harry patiently. He grabbed a compliant Ron by the back of the neck and vaguely guided Ron's and Snape's mouths together. Ron obeyed, and Harry's hand rewarded him with a slow stroke down his spine, all the way to his bum.

And that was a bit surprising, but Ron forgot all about it once his lips met Snape's. The kiss was quite nice. Warm, and yes, wet, and - was that Snape's tongue? Ron almost pulled back, but instead he got a very wicked idea.

He bit down.

For an instant Snape sagged against the ropes, moaning in a way that Ron - liked. Liked a lot. Ron groaned and rubbed against Snape, forgetting himself for a moment, hoping Harry hadn't noticed.

Too late. Harry was smiling, and it wasn't his usual innocent, happy, Quidditch-player grin, but a smirk that reminded Ron of Lupin at his most wolfish. Ron hastily took a step back. Harry made a tiny gesture with his wand -- and just who had taught him that? -- and the ropes suspending Snape's arms suddenly went slack, while the bonds between his calves snapped tight. Snape barked his shins on the dungeon's flagstones as he dropped helplessly to his knees.

"Fuck you, Potter!" he screeched. How satisfying to hear Snape losing control of his voice, Ron thought.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," Harry sneered.

The ropes, as they shifted, had pulled Snape's robe tight across his hips. Ron used his wand to point, snickering. "Harry, look," he said, "I think he really wants to fuck somebody."

"No," replied Harry, in a thoughtful tone, "no, I think not. I think it might be better if he carries on using his mouth. At least to start. Here, Snape," he said, and he added another small wand motion he should never have learnt, "stick your tongue out for us."

Snape's tongue snaked out of his mouth slowly, and stayed there. Ron might have guessed that this would look disgusting, but it didn't. It was funny, but almost -- almost exciting, too. Or maybe the exciting bit was how Snape and Harry were staring into each others' eyes.

This time, when Harry cast Legilimens, the word came out in a threatening hiss rather than a shout. All three of them froze for an instant. Harry kept his eyes on Snape as he addressed Ron. "We didn't ask him about it," he said brightly, "but I can tell you, he doesn't have any real objections. He won't mind putting that tongue to good use."

Ron felt his pale skin flush red. He fumbled for himself under his robe - he couldn't help it - and his voice went thick with lust.

"Harry," he said huskily, "do you want him to suck me?"

"Maybe later," said Harry, eyeing Ron's hand as it slid around inside his robes, "but I think he should rim you first."

Snape started screeching again, as best he could with his tongue still magically held out between his clenched lips.

Ron turned even redder, which hardly felt possible, and said, "Ah ... rimming ... is that what I think it is?"

Harry smirked. "It's exactly what you think it is, Ron -- if you think that it involves Snape licking your hot arse." And he gave Ron's arse a friendly pat. His hand lingered there for an instant, rubbing a little circle, until Ron -- to his own surprise -- groaned again. Then Harry grabbed him firmly by both hips, turned Ron around, and pushed him backwards towards the professor's outstretched tongue.

Ron blinked. "All right," he said, "suits me," and hoisted up his robes. Snape's protests grew even louder at the sight of Ron's bare, pale arse. Harry guided Ron backward until Ron could feel the vibrations of Snape's vehement shouts against his skin. The displaced air of the incoherent yells was replaced with a lovely spot of warm, wet pressure as Ron moved back onto the outstretched tongue.

Ron wriggled about, enjoying the pleasant sensation, when nearly by accident, he rubbed himself up against the tongue in a way that sent shock waves of pleasure up his spine. He hissed and shuddered, pressing back harder into that luscious, liquid heat. Yes, right there, exactly -- right on his -- now if only Snape would --

"Move!" Ron commanded hoarsely.

Now it was Ron's turn to whimper incoherently. Snape's tongue was snaking its way inside him, hot and wet, soft and hard at once, and so good, so very, very good. Harry's arms went around Ron to undo his robes and slide them all the way off his shoulders. After Harry eased the crumpled fabric from Ron's fists, Ron found his hands moving back toward his groin, almost against his will.

Harry tossed Ron's robes onto the nearest table and turned back to face his best mate. Harry sounded a bit breathless as he softly asked, "Do you want to -- I mean, yeah, you should. If you want." Ron didn't need much encouragement. Snape's tongue was getting him so hot, but he needed more. Ron fisted himself and wiggled lasciviously, rubbing his arse all over Snape's face and staring at Harry.

The sight of Ron so aroused sent Harry's hand burrowing under his robes, to his own cock, and Ron whimpered again from the excitement of watching him do that, even with all his clothes still on. Listening to Harry moan in answer was even hotter. "Ron," Harry panted, "don't ... we can't come yet ... not yet ... I have a plan ..."

Ron closed his eyes and groaned. He was so close, so close. But he knew Harry was right. Snape had to learn his lesson.

Ron forced himself to jump forward, away from Snape. He bumped into Harry, who caught him in his arms, and if they rubbed against each other for a second -- well, they could hardly help it, could they? Snape, watching, moaned in an entirely different register than his previous whining, deeper, almost sexy.

Harry murmured hotly in Ron's ear, "I think the professor's having a little too much fun, don't you?"

Ron's mouth had gone to the sweet place where Harry's neck joined his shoulder. He lifted his head to hiss, "yes ... he's not supposed to be enjoying this."

Harry's eyes glittered behind his glasses. Ron couldn't tell if he looked angry, or cruel, or just very, very hot. "Well," Harry replied thoughtfully, "I know what we can do about that."

Ron grinned. "What's the plan?"

"Divestus," said Harry, waving his wand at Snape. Obediently, the buttons on Snape's robes fell open, and Harry pushed them out of the way. "Ugh," he said, looking down at the line of prominent ribs. "Don't you take care of yourself?"

Snape snarled and strained at his bonds. Harry hadn't yet allowed Snape's tongue its mobility, and so he was restricted only to those few sounds. Harry smiled down at him. "First, Snape," he said, waving his wand, "I want you to beg."

"You insolent brat! You raving bloody -- children!" Snape snarled. "You'll be expelled!"

"Not what I had in mind," said Harry. "Try again. Remember, this doesn't have to be completely awful for you."

Snape spat.

Harry shrugged. "Fine, if that's how you're going to be. If you won't beg, you can scream." He walked behind Snape, knelt, and shoved the unhappy professor forward, until he was on all fours. With no warning -- and no lube, magical or mundane -- he shoved two fingers into Snape's arse.

Snape screamed.

Ron could almost -- almost -- pity Snape, as he watched his professor's mouth open in an anguished howl and his arms flex against the charmed ropes, while Harry grinned coldly behind him. But Snape hadn't been wearing much under those robes, and now that they were open Ron could see that Snape was still hard. Very hard. And the head of Snape's cock was slick. The rest of Snape's body might be ugly and worn, but he had a pretty cock.

The screaming was getting to be tiresome, though. Ron moved his wand, once again, through the gestures of another Silencing Spell. After that all he could hear was his own harsh breathing, and Harry's. Better. Ron licked his lips.

Harry's arm moved back and forth, back and forth, while he watched Ron from over Snape's shoulder. "Ron," Harry asked hoarsely, "do you think Professor Snape is still having too much fun?"

"He might be," Ron agreed. "Yeah, he might be. You should see his dick, Harry. His dick is definitely enjoying having your hand up his arse."

Harry reached around with his other hand to grab, roughly, at Snape's cock. Snape's agonised expression changed: now terror was added to pain. But Harry's hand was almost tender as it slipped up the shaft and across the head, fingertips playing gently with the moisture at the tip, then trailing down to tug at Snape's balls.

"Oh yes, he's still enjoying himself." Harry's smile grew wider, and more cruel; his eyes stayed on Ron's face. "All right then, mate," he said, "remember, we're doing this for Hermione."

Ron had one hand on his own cock, the other on his wand. He wished he could put down his wand and use that hand to play with his own balls the way Harry was playing with Snape's, but he knew Harry would need his help controlling their professor. And Harry didn't want him to come yet. And Harry was in charge. A little whining sound escaped Ron's throat.

Harry's voice dropped to a slow, intimate murmur that Ron had to strain to catch. "Professor? Lift your head up. Look at Ron, here. Look at him! Oh, the things he wants to do to you. Yeah, Snape, you bitch -- I'm going to do a few things to you, too. Do you want us to ... do things to you? Hmmm? Pity you can't tell us, isn't it?"

Harry underlined his threat with an especially firm jab of his fingers into Snape's arse. Ron could see Snape trembling against the invisible ropes that held in position on his knees. Without those bonds, the professor would be flat on his face by now.

"That looks so hot," Ron mumbled, not sure if he meant Harry or Snape or the two of them together.

Harry kept on talking, soft and low, "So what would you like, Snape? We can see you need ... something. Soon we're going to punish you. But what punishment do you want? Ron's going to undo the silencing charm. And when that happens ... you can beg us for whatever you need. And if you beg nicely enough ... you might get it."

Snape nodded, looking almost eager underneath his pain, fear and fury. Ron moved his wand through the motions of Finite Incantatum, working hard to keep his hand from shaking.

"God," Snape swore as the Silencing charm lifted. "God, god, god --" He had been chanting it under the spell, Ron realized.

"Yes," said Harry calmly, and Ron snickered. Harry spared him a grin before returning his focus to Snape. "What do you want, Snape, you whore? What would you like us to do to you?"

"F-fuck off," Snape hissed.

"Wrong answer," said Harry, and twisted his fingers in a way that made Snape yelp. "You know what you have to say, Snape."

Ron followed Harry's lead. "We know you want it, Professor. Make this easy on yourself and just give in."

Snape's lips pressed together stubbornly, and Harry shook his head at Ron, mock-sadly. "Professor Snape doesn't know what he wants, does he?"

Ron tsked. "Maybe talking isn't his strong point. I know I hate hearing his voice. Should I think of something else for him to do with his mouth?"

"Great idea, Ron," said Harry, his voice filled with the most incongruously boyish enthusiasm. The tone -- and the suggestion -- made Snape shudder and groan. Harry moved his hands to Snape's shoulders and hauled him up on his knees again; Snape's mouth was at the precisely the level of Ron's cock, and Harry was pressed up against Snape's back. Harry's hands dropped again, moving persuasively along Snape's torso, stroking his nipples, belly, and upper thighs.

Ron stepped forward, presenting himself to Snape's now firmly closed mouth. He stroked the tip of his cock against the seam of Snape's lips temptingly, and Snape darted his tongue out, seemingly against his own will, just to taste it. That tiny moment of sensation nearly overwhelmed Ron. He stepped back quickly, before he lost all control. Clenching his hands into fists to keep from just grabbing at himself, Ron inhaled sharply until he could speak again. When he said "oh yeah, Harry, make him beg for it," he was close to pleading, himself.

Snape glared up at Ron for a long moment, while Harry left hand kept moving over his body and his right resumed fingering Snape's opening. Then Snape dropped his head forward, clearly giving up. "Fuck me," he said, almost too quietly to be heard.

"What was that?" asked Harry.

"Fuck me," Snape snarled. "Do it, damn you, Potter!"

"Oh, now," said Harry. "That wasn't begging. That didn't sound like begging, did it, Ron?"

"Please," hissed Snape. "Please fuck me, Potter..."

"And beg Ron for his cock," said Harry.

Snape snarled, but raised his head to look Ron in the face. "Give it to me, Weas --Weasley," he choked out reluctantly. "Please."

It was good enough for Ron, who had been gripping the base of his cock for all he was worth since Snape's mouth had shaped the word 'please' the first time. But Harry stepped away from Snape and pulled his own wand out of his sleeve. "Well, that's better," he said. "Much, much better. Ron, you're a prefect ..."

Ron stood there panting for a few seconds, grateful for the interruption that prevented him from coming before he even got his cock down Snape's throat. "Er ...right!" he finally answered, "two points to Slytherin!"

Harry, meanwhile, was rearranging Snape's bonds. "Accio chair!" he said, and a lab stool slid toward him. A murmured charm and two flicks of his wand shifted the invisible ropes so that they tied Snape tightly at ankle and wrist to each of the stool's four legs, bending him not quite double at the waist. Then a quick "Divestus" made Snape's clothes vanish completely.

Ron could see Snape's long, firm erection bobbing a few inches under the stool's round wooden seat. The poor professor wasn't going to have much fun that way, was he? Ron snickered at the sight, then laughed louder when Harry gave Snape's narrow arse a light, stinging slap.

"Now there's a pretty picture," Harry said, while shucking off his own robe. "His bum's going to be a nice Gryffindor red soon." He gave Snape's skinny arse another not-quite-friendly smack to show what he meant, then paused thoughtfully. "Oh, but Professor," he added with mock concern, "I don't think you're going to be very comfortable that way. You'll want to spread your knees wide, won't you? Otherwise, I'm afraid it's going to hurt when I fuck you."

Harry shifted his wand to his left hand, so he could use his right to spank Snape once more.

Snape was struggling against the ropes again, with no success. "Dammit, Potter!"

Harry smacked Snape's other cheek, a little harder this time. "Open up for me, Professor Snape. Spread your legs. Show us you want to get fucked."

Snape looked pained, and there was defeat in his quiet voice. "Potter -- I -- you -- the way you tied me ... you know I can't. "

The only sign that Harry had heard him was another ringing slap to Snape's arse. Ron was impressed to see that Snape's erection had, if anything, grown even stiffer from all this mistreatment -- the tip was almost brushing up against the underside of the lab stool now. "Look at you, you pervert!" he said.

"And if you can't show us you want us to fuck you," Harry added, "I suppose you'll just have to tell us what you want. Again. Ask nicely, this time." He punctuated his words by spanking Snape's arse again, and then again, until it was almost as red as Snape's straining cock.

"Please ..." Snape mumbled, "please ..."

Ron laughed, but Harry was frowning in concentration as he drew back his hand to slap Snape again. "Ask. Us. Politely." Another smack to the ass punctuated each angry word.

This time Snape didn't hesitate at all before saying, in a quiet, rapid monotone, "oh god please I want you to fuck me in the ass Harry and please I want Ron to fuck me in the mouth and oh god oh god please please touch me while you fuck me oh please." He sounded drugged, or possessed.

"How interesting," Harry said softly, "spanking him works better than Veritaserum, doesn't it?"

Snape groaned again, and a droplet of shiny liquid drooled from the tip of his long cock to the office floor. It was too much for Ron. Without another word, he grabbed Snape's hair, pulled his head up and back, and shoved himself into Snape's mouth.

Snape obediently opened, sucking in Ron's cock like it was the only thing he wanted to do. The angle was awkward, and Snape seemed to be struggling to keep moving, but Ron didn't care. He was lost in the sensation, oh god the feel of Snape's hot mouth; Snape must have had a lot of practice at this, Ron thought blissfully. He closed his eyes briefly, but opened them again almost immediately. He didn't want to miss an instant of the buggering Harry was about to give Snape.

Ron focused his eyes on Harry just as Harry was spitting copiously onto his palm. Harry extended his other hand towards Ron's face. "Here -- I need more spit," Harry explained. "Otherwise his tight little hole is going to scrape off a few layers of my skin."

"Oh yeah," Ron said. It was very, very difficult to concentrate with Snape sucking at him, but he did his best to fill Harry's palm. He was rewarded with the sight of Harry rubbing their mingled spit onto his smooth, thick cock -- Snape's cock was pretty, but Harry's was gorgeous -- before lining it up to Snape's arse. Snape gave a hoarse yell when Harry abruptly plunged deep inside; Ron felt his mouth open even wider. The vibrations of Snape's screaming felt ... nice. Ron cruelly twisted his hand in Snape's hair to see if he would yell again. He did.

As Harry thrust again, and again, and again, Ron felt a tremor run through Snape at each fresh assault; the feeling of Snape's tongue pushing up against the underside of his cock was beyond anything he had ever imagined. Unable to stop himself, and unwilling, he thrust forward deeper than before, forcing Snape to take him deep. Mercilessly, Ron concentrated on the feeling of Snape's throat fluttering around the tip of his cock and canted his hips forward once more.

Responding to the sight, Harry increased the pace of his thrusts, timing them so that he and Ron impaled Snape at the same time and making it impossible for Snape to fully focus on either boy. The stool was shaking dangerously, but neither Ron nor Harry would have noticed if it collapsed altogether.

"Oh fuck yeah," Ron muttered, "yeah Harry, make him take it ..." He always squeezed his eyes closed when he was this close to coming, but he wanted to watch this, to see every detail like he was going to collect them in a Pensieve: Snape's head bobbing obediently at his groin, his fingers caught in Snape's hair, Harry's feral snarl, Harry's hand gripping Snape's shoulder so hard his knuckles were white as bones, Harry's cock moving faster and faster -

That was the sight that undid him. He couldn't hold off any longer, didn't want to - and Harry could see it somehow. "Ron!" he gasped, "Not -- quite -- yet ... pull out ... put your -- ah, ah -- get your come all over his face."

Ron couldn't reply, and couldn't deny Harry anything he wanted. He thrust just once more, deep as he could, into Snape's willing throat, held it there long enough to choke the man just a little, and pulled away. Snape gasped for air. Harry's eyes were fixed on Ron's cock, and he was moaning Ron's name.

Ron fisted himself just once, groaned loudly, and finally, finally came. The first pulses painted Snape's upraised face, but then, amazingly, Snape stuck his tongue out to catch the last of it.

Knees weak in the aftermath of the biggest orgasm he'd ever had, Ron backed up a few paces to lean against the dungeon walls. "Oh, Snape, you whore," he husked. "Harry, you have to see ... god, he's licking his lips ...ah, the slut, he loves it, he's so good at it ... "

Harry just moaned again. It looked like he was going deeper with every stroke, impossibly deep. He must be splitting Snape in half, Ron thought. It was beautiful.
Suddenly inspired, Ron scrambled for his wand and said "Harry! Hold on to his shoulders -- I have another idea --" He vanished the lab stool and the ropes, which caused both Snape and Harry to grunt in surprise as they nearly tumbled to the floor. Harry saved them both, bending his knees and pulling one arm around Snape's waist. For a second, neither man moved.

"It's too easy for Snape, with the ropes and all," Ron explained. "I think he should -- "

"Yeah!" Harry snarled, pulling all the way out of Snape in a way that made the professor squeal with pain. He walked over to the big desk at the front of the classroom and swept his arm across the surface while Ron -- you never can be too careful -- kept his wand trained on their victim. "Yeah, Snape," Harry went on, "you lie down here. On your back." Ron shoved him toward Harry and Harry pushed him down.

They both stood over Snape for a second admiring their handiwork: he was naked, sweaty, hugely erect, with shock and desperation and Ron's come all over his face, sprawled passively back, unmoving. He made little whimpering sounds that started Ron's cock swelling again. "You look a sight, professor," Ron sniggered.

Harry, hand around the base of his erection, asked "Had enough yet? No? You should show us if you want more of --" he fisted himself slowly, making Ron's arousal complete again by the time Harry said "-- this."

Ron sighed, and Harry noticed. Grinning, he held out his hand to Ron, palm up. "More lube?"

But Ron didn't spit in Harry's hand this time. Instead, he swiped some of his own come off Snape's face and smeared it on Harry's cock. Harry's warm hand wrapped over his Ron's, and they smiled at each other. "Yeah," Harry whispered, "yeah, that's -- that's good."

Snape made another small sound. Harry looked startled, as if for an instant he'd half forgotten Snape was even there. He and Ron both looked down at Snape's pleading face, and Harry laughed, "Need a little more attention? Not been punished enough yet?"

Snape made another indecipherable noise. Harry moved closer, and pushed Snape's legs up to his chest. "Yeah, that's it, Snape," he growled, "spread yourself for us." Snape hastily grabbed at his knees, holding himself open.

"Whore," Ron muttered, but the picture Snape and Harry made, poised like that, aroused him even more than he already was from touching Harry.

Then Harry shoved himself deep into Snape again. Snape whined, but Ron noticed that his erection didn't waver. Ron reached out and tweaked roughly at Snape's nipples, twisting the skin and not minding his nails' scrape. Snape didn't seem to care -- he wailed and thrust his cock into the air fruitlessly.

Ron slid his ragged nails down Snape's thin chest, enjoying the angry red lines that he left. Glancing up at Harry, Ron scraped "Ron Harry were here" into Snape's skin. Harry made a gasping sound that might have been a laugh, without interrupting his punishing rhythm.

Ron slid his hands down a few inches and deliberately teased Snape's rigid cock, tracing around and over it but never quite touching it. "Ah, god, please," Snape moaned, reaching down to wank himself.

Ron slapped Snape's hand back into place. "I'll touch you when I'm good and ready, Snape," he snapped. "Maybe you don't deserve to have your prick touched, did you think about that?"

"Please ... ah, I'll do whatever you want ... please just touch me a little more..."

Ron, finally, took pity on him and grabbed his cock. Harry laughed, "Say thank you, Professor, or he'll stop."

Snape mumbled incoherently between groans, eyes shut, mouth open, gasping, "Oh yes, don't -- don't stop -- ah, all right, thank you thank you, ah, so close, ah ..."

"Close?" Ron asked, mischievously loosening his grip for a moment to hear Snape scream. Snape obliged, hunching his hips forward desperately, making Harry gasp again.

"Make him do that again, Ron," Harry commanded hoarsely. Ron tightened his grip on Snape's cock for a moment, then released it to watch Snape writhe against Harry once more. Ron repeated it twice more. Tears of frustration squeezed from the corners of Snape's eyes, and his thigh and stomach muscles clenched so tight that Ron thought it had to hurt. "Please!" he screamed.

Ron pulled roughly at Snape's cock once more, then lifted his hand again. Without any further prompting, Snape began rocking his hips. Harry groaned and grabbed at Snape's thighs for leverage, pulling himself even deeper inside. He knocked Ron's hand away from Snape in the process, and Snape added a high-pitched whining sound to the grinding motions of his pelvis.

Harry didn't seem to be paying attention any more, pounding away at Snape, eyes closed, hips pistoning. The sight made Ron grab at himself, shoving himself into his hands as hard as Harry was thrusting into Snape. But they had a plan. "Harry -- Harry, wait!" Ron gasped. "You should -- we were both gonna --"

At Ron's words, Harry looked up dazedly. "Ohhhh -- " he breathed, "-- god!"

Snape's moans grew even louder, from frustration or from anticipation of what was about to happen. His noises seemed to be the last straw for Harry. Groaning, Harry stilled his thrust and withdrew his cock.

Harry walked around the desk, bracing himself with one hand to lean over Snape's face. He stroked himself lightly for a moment. Then Ron leaned into him and wrapped his hand over Harry's. Harry took a gasping breath and sobbed out, "yes!" as he came all over Snape's face, just as he had exhorted Ron to do.

For a few seconds the three men stopped moving, and the only sounds they made were their rasping breaths. Precome dripped from Snape's erection, a few drops of blood oozed from the scratches Ron had made on his chest, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, mixing with their semen. Ron smeared it around Snape's face, and felt the professor's tongue flicker out to lap at his fingers. Screwing his face into a mostly-feigned grimace, he held his dripping fingers for Harry to see. "Hey," he asked, "what do you think I should do with this mess?"

"It might make a nice lube," Harry replied, and something about the way he said it made Ron even harder. He walked slowly around the big desk, rubbing their fluids onto his dick as he went, until he was standing between Snape's legs. Harry murmured, "Let's see if you can come again, Ron." And as he grabbed at Snape's wrists he added, "and let's see if Snape can come at all."

Ron grinned and shoved his cock into Snape's open arse without ceremony. Snape bucked up against him and Ron groaned, closing his eyes. He pulled out slightly and pushed in again, a little deeper. Again. Again. God, this was brilliant, he thought vaguely, brilliant.

He opened his eyes to see what Harry was doing to Snape, and was a little surprised to see him merely holding Snape's arms in place, eyes devouring Ron as he thrust. "Harry?" he asked, "Aren't you going to..." as he motioned at Snape's cock.

"No," said Harry, looking down into Snape's pleading face. "No, I think he's had all he deserves. Let's see how much he gets off on having your cock up his arse. He doesn't have to come, not really, does he?"

Snape moaned despairingly and threw his head back. He shifted his hips forward, but subsided with a growl when Harry slapped his face. "You heard what Harry said," Ron said through clenched teeth, and gave a particularly rough thrust that made Snape's teeth clack.

"Anything," Snape said, the plea sounding perilously close to a command. His sallow face had gone bright pink, almost orange on the cheek Ron had slapped, and the ugly flush extended down his thin chest, but his eyes -- there was something compelling about the hunger in Snape's dark eyes. Ron gulped and thrust harder, leaning forward slightly to stare into them.

He must have done something Snape liked, because at the change in position, Snape's whimpering turned to a loud wail, as he pushed back furiously against each of Ron's thrusts. Ron planted his palms on the desk on either side of Snape's hips and, gritting his teeth, pounded into Snape with all his strength.

Snape was almost screaming in time with Ron's thrusts, "Oh -- just -- like that -- oh there -- please -- oh -- " He came in a few long, slow, arcing splashes, until his come was dripping all over his bony torso. Ron would hardly have noticed -- though Harry growled in appreciation -- but for the way Snape's abused hole pulsed against his cock, and then grew impossibly, deliciously tight.

It didn't slow Ron's relentless pace. He thrust hard, again, again, deep as he could get, and then leaned even further forward to sink his teeth into Snape's tense shoulder. He muffled his groan there as Snape grew even tighter around him, and that convulsive grip released him, undid him. His shudders of orgasm shook them both.

"Ron," said Harry, sounding slightly exasperated. "Did you forget about--" He broke off when Ron held up a calming hand.

"I forgot about everything, mate," he admitted when he had regained enough breath to say it. "Merlin's tits, Snape," he said, looking down at the gasping man under him, "you have got some arse on you. Bloody hell!"

Snape declined to reply, but his expression was a very strange mix of pride, horror, and burning rage, through the sheen of come that lingered on his skin. He seemed to be grinding his teeth. Harry and Ron left him lying on the desk, naked, while they pulled their discarded robes back on.

"Ron," Harry said, "I think we've made our point. Perhaps you could go fetch Hermione so the professor can apologize to her properly."

Snape made another inarticulate sound, and Harry added, "And perhaps then we'll let you dress. Meanwhile, I think we'd like you back on your knees, on the floor there."

Even after all that had happened, it shocked Ron to see Snape obey without a murmur. Then Harry pointed his wand at Snape's head with a quiet "Legilimens," telling Ron a moment later "Hmmm. Do you know, he's not afraid of what we might do to him next? He's only worried that we might never do this again."

Ron was still laughing as he strolled out the door, while Harry reached down with apparent tenderness to stroke Snape's long hair. When Ron heard another choked-off yelp of pain, he didn't turn around.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Ron and Hermione were both smiling when he led her into Snape's office. Ron wore a grin he expected would look goofy if he saw it in a mirror, and Hermione had the same secretive little smile as always, after one of those study sessions with the girls. Still, she looked around nervously as they walked into the dungeon, as if Snape were going to manhandle her again. Snape, however, was seated calmly behind his desk, though his authority was sadly diminished by some very odd damp spots all down the front of his black robes. Ron grinned even wider, knowing Snape's robes looked still worse down where they were hidden behind the furniture.

They looked at Snape expectantly, but he was silent. The silence echoed through the room.

"Professor?" said Harry quietly, his hand resting near the base of his wand, stuck in his belt.

Snape sneered.

"Well, Professor?" Ron added, reaching for his own wand.

Snape nodded in silent acknowledgement of the implied threat.

"Now," Harry said, "I think you have something to tell Hermione, don't you?"

Snape's sallow skin flushed slightly. It wasn't an improvement. He swallowed audibly, eyes focused on Hermione's feet. There was another long pause.

"Professor Snape ..." Ron said, meaningfully.

"All right, Mr. Weasley!" Snape paused again, then spoke. "Miss Granger. I owe you ... an apology. I ... I inadvertently may have made reference to some of your research findings in my recent article without ... without ... proper citation. It was, ah, not the proper scholarly, erm, procedure, and I regret leaving any misapprehension in the minds of ... of the readers of the article. And I will write to the editors of the journal as soon as I get a chance --"

Harry and Ron, in unison, pointed their wands at Snape.

"Snape!" Harry exclaimed.

Snape started over. "Ah, that is, I will send an owl to the journal's editors this evening, correcting ... that is, amplifying on any inadequacies in the citations."

Harry stepped closer. "And?" he asked, quietly.

"And I will ask if Miss Granger could please be listed as second author of the article if that meets with Miss Granger's approval," Snape said, all in one frightened breath.

Ron stepped closer too. Hermione held her breath. Snape sighed. "First author, then," he said.

"Yes!" said Hermione gleefully. She hugged Harry. She hugged Ron. She might have hugged Snape, had he not prudently remained behind his desk. The three of them left their professor there to clean himself up and get on with writing his clarification to Potions Review Quarterly.

But after they closed Snape's door gently behind them, Hermione gave her two best friends a long, serious look. "I don't want to know how you did that, I suppose," she said solemnly, "but whatever it was, you should --" She interrupted herself, sniffed sharply, and wrinkled her nose. "And anyway, what's that smell?" she asked. "It's a bit ... horrid."
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