Blood Sugar Sex Magick

BY : MAAfallan
Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 7997
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Β© 2001 M.A.Afallan
All characters from the world of "Harry Potter" belong to the prophetess J.K.Rowling. I am only borrowing them for my dirty minded pleasure, but I promise to clean them off before I return them, only slightly bruised from wear and tear. OFCs belong to me (muwahaha)



Alumni weekend again. Each summer when regular classes had ended, four days of a week -- Thursday through Sunday -- were arranged for Hogwarts graduates to drop into the school and see their old Alma Mater, and wax nostalgic"¦ to visit their chums they'd lost touch with after five years or more"¦ and see if they could finally shag any teachers they'd had the unrequited teenaged hots for.

Oh, let's face it. Underneath the surface of these alumni weekends, beyond the Welcome Back feast and formal dance, behind the casual trip to Hogsmeade and the family picnic on the lawns, there brewed a cauldron of unbridled lusts that had been forcibly held in check and barely squelched by repeated cold showers during seven years of school. Hogwarts was, during summer vacations, a veritable whorehouse.

Every year, Severus Snape made special time for this week. Because every year some finally legal-aged Slytherin girl, who'd unsubtly batted her eyes at him in class, would get up the nerve to approach and lay the moves on him. And unless she was utterly repulsive or married to anyone that could (and would) castrate him, he'd have considered himself a total fool to refuse free sex.

So he spent the weekend beforehand brewing the standard extra-slippery-lubricated Prophylaktos Potion. He wasn't an idiot. He didn't trust these damned girls, and had no desire to wind up unknowingly teaching his own bastard child one day.

Then, before the Welcome Feast, he dressed carefully in his sternest but finest robes, slicked his hair so that it draped just so over his face, and stalked even more menacingly than usual down the halls. He sat at the teacher's great table with the Headmaster and the teachers who enjoyed these alumni visits, and waited for his first hint who it would be this year.

The meal was nearly done and he'd greeted and chatted with a dozen old Slytherins, but no one had given him the usual "˜come-hither' look. He was beginning to wonder if he had spinach caught in his teeth or something. Surreptitiously picking up a spoon to glimpse his reflection, he then noticed the piece of parchment tucked under his napkin.

So"¦ the mystery girl wanted to play shy. Opening the note, he read:

I know all about your secrets. I know where you keep them. I know what spells you use to protect them. I know how to counter them all.And I know, by the time you finish reading this, that you are too late to stop me! See you in your classroom"¦ then see you on visiting day at Azkaban!
A Friend

His heart leapt into his throat and he nearly leapt to his feet with it. Had someone discovered he was a former Death Eater, and also a spy? But he carefully folded the note, tucked it into his coat pocket, and excused himself from the table.

He fled to the dungeons where his classroom was. For beyond them were his private chambers, sealed from all but the most powerful magic. Only Dumbledore, an Auror, or very Dark wizard could have seen through it and possibly entered. But he honestly had nothing incriminating to hide anymore. The only thing left from his Death Eater days was the much-hated Dark Mark on his arm, and though nothing could erase that, it was well hidden at all times. He was mostly furious at the thought of invasion to his privacy, something he fought to protect.

He swirled into the classroom like a black tornado, wand ready to blast anyone inside his rooms. But he saw that the secret door was still hidden. None of the magics had been tampered with. No one was there.

Wrong. The outer classroom door banged shut, locked itself, and a spell to prevent noises from escaping slid over the walls. He turned and saw a shadow in one corner. Wrong again. Shadows didn't giggle.

Snape put down his wand. "So"¦ it was just a game after all," he all but purred.

"Oooh, I love it when your voice drops so low," the girl said, trying to sound just as seductive but winding up giggling again. "It just give me gooseflesh."

Snape sighed. "Sending me flying in here in a panic is hardly the best way of drawing my attention, girl."

"Got something to hide? Or are you just being a typical paranoid Slytherin?" she chirped. "And don't call me girl"¦ I'm a woman now." She slid from the shadows and proved her point.

No mistake about that. She was curvaceous and taller than in school, but still slim and actually quite pretty. He recognized the former Slytherin girl, and she hadn't changed much in five years. Straight nearly black hair past her shoulders, blue eyes with a twinkle of mischief. She wore a long black velvet dress which showed about a mile of cleavage above a scrap of black lace. Oh yes. Definitely a woman now.

But she still giggled like a bloody schoolgirl when she saw his eyes glittering above her bosom. "See something you like, Professor?" she said, running both hands playfully along her sides, starting from those heaving breasts and down to her hips. She began to hitch the edge of her skirt up. "I always thought you had your eye on me in class"¦ Nearly everyday you looked my way"¦"

"That, Miss Pickthall, was because you were so renowned for constantly talking in my class," he said sternly, crossing his arms and leaning back onto the edge of his desk. "If I spent any time looking your way, it was in an obviously vain effort to keep quiet and order in my classroom."

"Call me Rosalind, we're both grown-ups," she twittered, and sauntered gracefully toward where he perched like a great delicious vulture, all dark and gloomy and mock-disapproving. "Yes, I know I was a chatty bird, but even those piercing looks of yours never quite got me to shut up, did they?"

"No, it would seem you still possess the propensity for waxing on about very little"¦" The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, and she almost swooned.

"Oooh, such big words," she quivered, shaking her bosom under his long nose invitingly. "You know, Professor, you always gave detention to others who talked in your class. But never to me"¦"

"Clearly I was too permissive with my own House."

"Perhaps you should give me detention," she said, stroking one finger along his thigh. "I mean, it's five years late, but"¦ better late than never, right?"

"Will it succeed in shutting you up?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes," she sighed and looked hopefully into his deep dark eyes.

"I doubt that. But"¦ we can always try. I think your "˜detention' ought to involve some method of keeping your chattering mouth full"¦"

And he would have reached to unbutton his trousers, if she hadn't already beaten him to it. Surprised, but hardly displeased, he allowed her to drop to her knees before him, wrestle with the row of buttons on his old-fashioned pants, and slide his now erect cock from its confinement. Then she nearly swallowed it whole.

Her tongue wrapped around and around, caressing and massaging the length of it, and he could see that she fit well into the House of the Snake. Somehow, even between the soft sucking sounds and his own low-throated hums of pleasure, she managed to keep a running commentary.

"Oooh Professor, oh my"¦ mmmm"¦ you're so"¦ mmmm"¦ yummy and"¦ hhhmm"¦ big"¦ I always knew"¦ mmm"¦ that you would be"¦"

"Miss Pickthall, you are insufferably talkative," he chuckled deeply, pushing her away from his groin.

She pouted and tried to regain hold of her new toy. It stood proud and glistening with saliva before her. "Just showing my appreciation for my favorite teacher," she grinned up at him saucily. "Can I help it if I like to show my appreciation verbally?"

"Yes, you can," he smiled. Taking his wand, he waved it at her mouth and said, "Labrum Serae."

A Lip Lock! Her mouth closed and she couldn't open her lips again. She frowned at him, and snorted indignantly.

He smiled and merely raised her to her feet, turned her around and bent her face-first over his desk. She moaned softly in her throat as he deftly slid the velvet skirts up and over her ass. Those wonderful hands were gently massaging her bum now, and she moaned, unable to tell him how much it turned her on, and how much she wanted him to fuck her right now. Her lack of underwear spoke for her. As well as the thigh-high lace stockings. Not to mention the extreme dampness of her eager pussy.

"Well, now we shall see if you can remain quiet for once," he said softly, his voice throbbing through her body like dark music, "while I mete out your punishment for talking"¦" Long fingers slid between her thighs and she spread them immediately, arching her hips upward as high as she could.

Laughing softly, Snape ran a finger between the wet lips of her pussy, watching her shiver and hearing the low moans. Knowing she wanted desperately to speak and couldn't"¦ It was powerful. With deft strokes of his fingertips, he coaxed her cunt to a delicious dripping state, then reached for the potion he'd prepared earlier. He tipped a bit over the end of his cock, and standing behind her began to rub it slowly against her cunt lips, but not entering her.

She whimpered piteously, pushing her hips back against him, begging silently for him to fuck her now. He chuckled in her ear. "What is it you need, Rosalind? Can't tell me, can you? Guess I'll just have to"¦ do whatever I please instead"¦"

And he slid the full length of his cock into her. She would have squealed if she could. She groaned deep in her throat, long and low, gradually raising the pitch until she was all but screaming. Her throat felt almost raw with the effort.

He teased her mercilessly, pumping away ruthlessly for a few moments while she grasped the desk for support, then he all but stopped. A few gentle slow strokes, until she was whining and panting, then he began the assault anew. Over and over he did this, until she was ready to die from pleasure.

She couldn't stand it. He was silent too, now. So wonderful and powerful, and she couldn't tell him how hard she was about to come. But it was obvious to him, as she breathed so desperately fast through her nostrils, a pitiful moaning from her throat. Then her cunt clamped onto him like a vice, and she shook like an earthquake as the groan became a hoarse and nearly silent shriek.

But he wasn't done. He laughed deep and soft in his own throat, making her groan again. As his warm fingers gripped her hips, his own pounding repeatedly again her bare ass, she suddenly realized what she hadn't noticed before. He hadn't even dropped his pants. Only his cock was exposed. And here she was with her vulnerable bare bottom in the air, silently begging her former teacher to stick it deep inside her and fuck her "˜til she screamed, and she couldn't even scream, damn it!

So she came again, even harder. And now she felt him pushing faster and more urgently, and then heard the soft low grunt of pleasure as he spilled himself into her cunt. She smiled. Okay, maybe talking wasn't so necessary during sex. Especially when the fantasy of her girlhood had been fulfilled so wonderfully.

He pulled from her, tidied them both economically, tugged her skirts back down and turned her around. She was gratified to see the slightest flush to his cheeks, and a sly smile playing about his lips.

Taking wand in hand, he ended the spell that bound her lips. "Well, Miss Pickthall"¦ you remained your vociferous self regardless of my spell. But I trust you've learned how I feel about too much talking in my classroom?"

"Oh, yes indeed, Professor Snape," she said demurely, then giggled again. "Thank you for the private lesson"¦" And she sauntered all the way to the door before turning for one last glance. Dark, brooding, delectable.

"Good thing," she said wistfully, "that my husband is overseas this weekend."

"What?" he sputtered, looking frantic.

She laughed aloud. "Just joshing! Not even engaged! Promise!" And she ran before he could throw a very heavy book at her retreating backside.

-TIME-FRAME. My little tales of titillation are meant to take place during the years prior to Harry's arrival at Hogwarts. These are meant to be miscellanous girls that no one else would know about, all very much of legal age, long graduated before the books were written, and all long before Voldemort arises again. Just thought Snape should be having SOME fun in the meantime. ;) They are are also not meant to be taken at all seriously, or even in conjunction with other stories I write about Snape.
-LATIN. "Labrum Serae" or "Lip Locker" is my own invention.

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