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Don't Lie to Me	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 13611 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: The following applies to this and all of the following chapters of this story: I do not own the characters, situations, locations or any other aspects of these stories and do not make any money from them.
Usual Disclaimer: This applies for all of the chapters. Anything and everything you recognize from JK Rowling’s Harry Potter universe belongs to her and I am simply borrowing it for my own amusement. No monetary reward on my part for doing so.
I hope at least a few of you have seen "Monty Python’s the Meaning of Life." If not, go rent it sometime.
Story Warning 1: Just in case you didn’t read the synopsis, this is gonna end up with a student and Snape in the sack. If you can’t stand a scenario where Snape and one of his (female) students engage in sexual intercourse, leave now. The student in this story is 18 and the sex is consensual, but if the subject matter still bothers you, DON’T READ THIS STORY.
Story Warning 2: If you don’t want to read sexually explicit material, DON’T READ THIS STORY. Do I have to repeat that? No? Okay, then DON’T COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW EXPLICIT IT IS, OKAY?
Story Warning 3: I’ve written an Original Character, and hopefully she is not a quintessential Mary Sue. But that’s for you to decide. So, if you only want to read stories that involve the canon characters, DON"T READ THIS STORY.
Still here? Go ahead and read. And review. Or flame.
Additional note: This version of the story has been greatly improved by the assistance by my wonderful editor "Lablanche." Although nothing of major importance to the plot has been changed, it has been immeasurably 'tidied up', improved and 'Snapified' due to her involvement, and I am deeply indebted to her for helping me.

CHAPTER ONE: THE ILLUSTRATIONS

"Don’t you think you better get up now? You’ve been laying there for ten minutes, dear." The voice whispering into her ear was quite disapproving.
Helena groaned and turned over onto her side. "The only thing more annoying than an enchanted mirror that commented on your looks was an enchanted alarm clock that kept pestering you until you got up," she thought grumpily. She opened her eyes to glare angrily at the offending clock. The hands read a quarter past six.
She sighed and wearily leaned back on the pillow. On most days, having to get up so early would be bad enough. But, to make matters worse, this was Monday morning. And to add insult to injury, her schedule for Mondays here in her final year at Hogwarts was perfectly obnoxious. ‘Advanced Transfiguration’, followed by ‘History of Magic’, a brief reprieve from "the schedule from hell" for her lunch, and then a full afternoon of ‘Advanced Potions.’ She had tried to be optimistic about it and think that at least she got the worst day over with at the beginning of the week. But, she was starting to think that it would have been much more preferable to spread the agony out over several days instead of having to endure it all within a brief eight hours.
She heard a low, disapproving cough coming from the direction of the clock. "All right, all right, I’m up already," she barked, throwing back her covers and propelling herself out of the bed. She reached for her robe, stretching and yawning while she felt with her toes for her slippers, which were lying half-kicked under the bed.
She glanced over at the other bed in the room, where her roommates were still sleeping peacefully. But, she thought ruefully, the Hogwarts Express could probably roar through the middle of the room without awakening them. Angelique only woke up after her alarm clock blasted out chimes that would have shamed Big Ben, and Kathleen’s alarm clock had sometimes resorted to squirting a stream of water in her face in order to rouse her. That is why, for all the years that they had bunked together, Helena was always the first to arise. She had quickly given up trying to sleep through their alarms as they did through hers. Maybe next year at the University she would occasionally have the chance to sleep in. "Oh, well," she thought as she padded across the room, "at least this way I always have first dibs on the bathroom."
A few minutes later, the most pressing of her early morning bathroom needs having been attended to, she stood before the sink to wash her hands and brush her teeth. This particular mirror happened to have no enchantment upon it, a point for which she was eternally grateful. She needed no other voice to confirm that at the moment her eyes were still bleary looking and that her hair was a mess.
She sighed. In the years since she had been at Hogwarts, she had tried numerous hairstyles. As a first year, she had arrived with her hair trimmed quite short in an almost boyish haircut. Then she had grown it out to pageboy length. For the past few years, she had let it grow even longer, until it fell halfway down her back. She had been wearing it parted in the middle, the sides held back by thick barrettes. At the beginning of the school year, Angelique had descended upon her with a pair a scissors, declaring that she just knew she would look great with bangs. Helena had been rather pleased with the results, until she got up the next morning and found that any contact between her head and her bed resulted in her bangs being pushed upwards and outwards to decidedly odd angles from the rest of her hair. The hair that had taken only an instant to cut was insisting on taking months to grow back. In the meantime, she seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of her time anchoring them into place with copious amounts of gel, only to see them spring to greater heights of rebellion each morning.
Well, at least there was nothing horribly wrong with the rest of her, she decided. Her oval face was pleasantly pretty rather than beautiful, punctuated by high cheekbones, full lips and a small, pert nose. Her eyes were a subdued hazel, their color occasionally aspiring to turn a true green depending upon the lighting and color of her wardrobe. And the darkness of her lashes (particularly when accentuated by mascara) stood out in dramatic contrast to the paleness of her skin. The aforementioned hair was a dark brunette-shiny, thick and as straight as a stick. Her complexion had cleared admirably in the past year and all in all she would have been quite happy if she could have subtracted a few inches off her bust and hips and added them to her height. Not that she was fat, but she had always been self-concious about her abundant measurements in those areas. She had always dreamed of being tall, lean and lanky instead of short and rounded. Angelique and Kathleen preferred to walk around in muggle style jeans and sweaters as much as possible, but she had always found it rather a relief to wear the long, bulky Hogwarts robes that downplayed the voluptuousness of her figure.
She jumped as she heard Angelique’s alarm clanging loudly in the next room. She yawned and stretched again, preparing to jump in for a quick shower before her roommates descended upon the bathroom.
*****
About an hour later, she was sitting in the Great Hall picking at her breakfast. She had her Transfiguration textbook open to the chapter detailing the history of the animagi, and was re-reading it as she ate. McGonagall tended to spring a pop quiz on them just about this time every year, and she wanted to be ready.
She had decided that it was paramount to curry favor with as many teachers as possible this year if she was to achieve her dream of gaining direct admittance to the Mediwitch program at the University. Most students were forced to spend a year or two in general studies before applying to that prestigious branch of the school, but exceptions were occasionally made. Her grades had always been excellent, and she was hoping that if she was able to gather enough glowing reference letters from a number of her teachers, she might be able to jump immediately into the Mediwitch curriculum. She was sure that she could count on Professor Flitwick to write her an enthusiastic report, being as he was the head of her own house (Ravenclaw) and the fact that she had always excelled at "Charms." She was also certain that Professor Vector would be a staunch supporter. Few students had ever done as well as she had in the decidedly difficult field of "Arithmancy". Not only was she doing independent study in her advanced class, but she was also serving as an official tutor to the younger students. She was even fairly certain that McGonagall would be supportive of her goal. For although her Transfiguration Professor was decidedly strict and brusque, she had occasionally favored her with a compliment. And that was a rare enough achievement for a Gryffindor, much less a Ravenclaw. Finally, Madame Pomfrey had allowed her to assist her in the hospital wing for the past two years, and had no doubt of her enthusiasm and proficiency for the profession.
But, in one area she was facing a glaring deficiency. She was sure that in order to be seriously considered for the program, she would also need a laudatory recommendation from either her Herbolatry or Potions professors, those two classes being the most closely related to the field of medical wizardry. Unfortunately, Professor Sprout had taken a decided dislike to her ever since her third year at Hogwarts, when she had been assigned to fertilize the Mandrakes. She had been a bit over-zealous in administration of the compound, and the result had been twenty pots of Mandrakes that were so stout, they had to be smashed out of their pots and repotted at an alarming rate. Although that had been her first and greatest mistake, Professor Sprout had never quite forgiven her. Even though her grades were quite fine, Helena was sure that Professor Sprout would temper any good remarks with her oft-repeated observation that she was "too clever by half" about some things.
And that left Professor Snape, Master of Potions at Hogwarts. She sighed and drew lazy circles in her porridge as she considered asking him for a letter of reference. On the surface, it seemed a fairly reasonable request. After all, she had always done well on the written tests and papers and had usually proven herself more than proficient in the practical application of the science. However, so far this year "Advanced Potions" was proving to be an unmitigated disaster.
Her thoughts on this unhappy turn of events were interrupted as numerous owls flew silently into the Great Hall on their way to deliver the mail. The volume of mail was always fairly heavy on Monday, and the owls usually made two deliveries instead of one. Helena always enjoyed watching the owls make their deliveries for she had always found them to be extraordinarily graceful in their movements, particularly when they were expected to carry such heavy and unwieldy packages. To her surprise, she saw a large brown owl with a snowy white crest start swooping down towards her, its claws wrapped around a small blue envelope. She held out her hand, and the bird deftly dropped it into her waiting fingertips. A moment later, the owl landed softly beside her open textbook.
She gave the bird an affectionate scratch on the head and held out a bit of her untouched banger as a reward. The bird hooted softly for a moment and began to nibble at the meat. Helena looked at the envelope. She could tell immediately from the handwriting that it was from her cousin Luke in America. She laughed happily, for his letters were always wonderful-long, gossipy and funny. She looked back at the owl. The animal was sitting there quite patiently awaiting her response. She held out the remainder of the sausage and said, "Sorry, it will take me a while to read this and send a reply. You can be on your way." The bird nodded quite sagely as it accepted the treat and spread its wings. "Goodbye!" she called after it.
She looked down at the letter again and sighed. All of the students were beginning to rise from their seats and file out of the Great Hall to make their way to the first class of the day. No time to begin reading it now, and there was no way she was going to be able to sneak a peek at it during McGonagall’s class. She tossed the textbook and the letter into her bag, and threw it over her shoulders.
*****
Later that morning, she was sitting at her desk, waiting for Angelique to join her. Her roommate wasn’t taking "Advanced Transfiguration", and her first class of the day had been "Muggle Studies". But the rest of the day they shared the same schedule. Helena was on the last page of the letter when she heard Angelique slip into the seat beside her.
"What’s so funny, Hel?" she asked, hearing the other girl stifle a giggle as she read.
"Oh, just my cousin Luke," she replied. "He’s describing how horrible his teachers are this year and all the terrible pranks he’s planning to pull. He’s a devil. But terribly clever," she added, admiration in her voice.
"Oh, that’s the Muggle, right?"
Helena rolled her eyes. "Yes, he’s ‘the Muggle’, Ang." Obviously taking ‘Muggle Studies’ was not engraving a rich understanding and appreciation for non-magic folk to her friend. She still talked about Muggles as though they were a completely different species. Honestly, there were times when she was quite fed up with the unthinking prejudice she was constantly fighting. Uncle Wallace, her father’s brother, had lived in the United States for almost two decades and held a very important position in the company that dealt with the import and export of magical supplies between that country and Great Britain. He had met and married an extremely nice lady, Aunt Maggie, who happened to be a Muggle, and Luke was their only son. Her cousin was remarkably intelligent and high-spirited and Uncle Wallace had not seemed the least disappointed that he showed no sign of inheriting any of his magical abilities. Actually, considering how much of a handful he was to begin with, one could only shudder at the thought of what he could do had he been blessed with magical powers. Helena had often thought that even the antics of the infamous Weasley twins would have paled in comparison.
"May I read it?" Angelique asked.
"Sure," replied Helena, handing over the letter to her.
She turned to unzip her book bag and take out a large pad of drawing paper. She had learned during her first year at Hogwarts that there was little need to take notes or even pay attention to anything that Professor Binns lectured on. The Ravenclaw House had discovered long ago that his lectures and tests hadn’t changed a whit from year to year. About forty years ago, an enterprising (and unnamed) Ravenclaw had catalogued his lecture notes and copies of each examination for all seven years of the classes. This resulting file had been carefully preserved and was currently residing within a locked cabinet that stood in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Any student who wished to do so could borrow the necessary file for an hour or two in preparation for an upcoming exam. Only once had any of the prefects objected to this as a form of cheating, and the incensed student had brought the matter to Professor Flitwick directly. The tiny teacher had blandly replied that since it still required one to read through the dullest of notes and commit them to memory, he could not condemn the practice. He also intimated that any teacher who was content to ask the same questions year after year should be satisfied with getting the same answers as well. Helena had often wondered if Professor Flitwick was indeed the anonymous author of the prized file. At any rate, she would listen as Professor Binns began his lecture, just to ensure that the subject matter was the one she expected it to be. After that, she would drift off into daydreams, idly drawing pictures in her sketchbook.
"What’s this about ‘regards to Mr. Creosote’ and…." Angelique lowered her voice to a thrilled whisper, "you must ‘always look on the bright side of life’, because, after all, ‘every sperm is sacred’?"
Helena sighed and tried to figure out a way to explain it to her friend. Her cousin Luke had introduced her to Muggle films and videos on her last visit with him over a year ago. Although she had been facinated by them all, the funniest ones she had seen had been called "The Meaning of Life", and "Life of Brian", both starring a British comedic group who styled themselves as "Monty Python". Luke’s references were alluding to two of hilarious songs from those films and a gross but funny sketch involving a copious amount of vomit.
At that moment, Professor Binns made his appearance through the blackboard and Helena contented herself with whispering, "I’ll explain it to you later, Ang." Angelique handed the letter back to her and she stuffed it into her bag.
Taking up her quill, she wrote across the top of her paper, "Global and Goblin Economics" and waited. Professor Binns shuffled his voluminous sheets of notes, cleared his throat and intoned in his dull, wheezy whine: "Today we will begin an examination of the foundation of Gringotts Bank, and the resulting effect world wide on wizarding banking."
"Yep," she thought nodding. "He was right on schedule." She sat with her quill posed in the air, completely shutting out the sound of the Professor’s voice as he droned on, waiting for an artistic inspiration to strike. Her thoughts drifted back to her cousin’s letter and the references to the film. As she glanced around the room, she could heads lolling sleepily and she suddenly remembered another sketch from the film. This one had shown the quintessential English Professor with such a dull and boring manner of teaching that he had even managed to make a lecture on sex uninteresting. Even after inviting his wife in to the class to participate in a visual demonstration of the subject matter, the students had looked as apathetic as all her classmates did right now.
"I guess we should be grateful that Binns doesn’t teach ‘Sex Education’," she thought. And then a wicked grin came to her face as her quill began to move.
She was still engrossed in her drawing a half-hour later when she heard Angelique starting to snore. Her roommate was sitting with her head propped up against her arm, and had been drifting in and out of sleep since the beginning of the lecture. Helena nudged her elbow lightly, and her friend snorted slightly as the motion brought her out of the slumber. Professor Binns droned on, unheedingly. Angelique yawned and glanced at her watch, wanting to groan when she saw how little time had passed so far. She peered over to see what Helena was working on, and had to quickly stuff a hand into her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
The sheet of paper with the words "Global and Goblin Economics" was still the top sheet of paper in her open sketchbook, and Helena was holding it up at a slight angle with her left hand. Underneath, her right hand was rapidly working away on another drawing. The casual observer would not be able to see what she was so avidly sketching. But Angelique’s point of view allowed her to see it quite clearly. At the top of this sheet were the words: "Professor Binns Discusses Foreplay". She had drawn a picture of Binns standing as usual with his notes clasped in front of him, every lackluster line of his dull appearance drawn in full, exquisitely tedious detail. But behind him, on the blackboard, there were some very interesting illustrations.
In the left-hand corner of the board were written the words: "Male Response to Foreplay" and below this there was a depiction of two stick figure drawings. The first was a standard stick figure, the face consisting of one round circle within which were three dots serving as the eyes and nose, and a down-turned semicircle indicating a frowning mouth. Underneath this figure was written the single word ‘Before’. Then a large arrow, above which was written the word ‘Foreplay’ pointed to the right. The figure on the pointed side of the arrow was similar to the first, except for the fact that its mouth was smiling, and it was turned somewhat in profile. And a new, thick line was protruding straight outward from the area directly above the two sticks that served as its legs.
To the right of this tableau was a depiction of the "Female Response to Foreplay". Here the first stick figure showed a demure figure, with downcast eyes, pursed lips and arms and legs chastely crossed. On the other side of the arrow, the eyes were wide open and the mouth leering in delight, the legs were in a spread eagle position, and the tiny sticks representing the figure’s hands were clasping at two dark dots on its chest.
Angelique placed both hands over her nose and mouth to keep her laughter from exploding out, and then she brought them down and stroked her left index finger with her right while her lips mouthed, "Naughty, naughty!"
Helena shrugged. She and Angelique shared a similar ribald sense of humor and had a knack for bringing out each other’s mischievous streak. From the very first year at Hogwarts, they had been inseparable, and the Ravenclaws had soon nicknamed them, "Heaven and Hell", referring to the cherubic origin of Angelique’s name and to Helena’s nickname. "I’m just getting started," she warned, turning over to a new page.
Across the top of this page she wrote "Binnie and Minnie Teach the Old Out and Innie" and by the time she had finished the illustration to go with it Angelique’s eyes were tearing at the effort to keep from laughing out loud. She had depicted a scowling Professor McGonagall wearing only an outlandishly snug bustiere. The tightly laced lingerie was pushing her scant breasts into something resembling cleavage and she was standing by the side of a bed that had been set up next to the blackboard. She held her wand in one hand, a whip in the other, and her square spectacles were firmly pinched down on the end of her nose above a mouth that was drawn into a thin, humorless line. Her feet were encased in long hip boots with spiky, thin heels and she appeared to be tapping her foot impatiently. A long, striped cat tail could be glimpsed curling down to the floor between her skinny legs and a pair of pointed ears were sticking out of the top of her head, peeking through her black hair that was drawn up, as usual, in a tight bun.
On the other side of the bed was Professor Binns, wearing only socks and a ridiculously small pair of briefs which were barely covering a suspiciously large bulge at his crotch. His chest was thin and bony, but a small pot belly dipped over the tight elastic waistband of his underwear. He still clutched his lecture notes in left hand, while his right hand was gripped around a large penile-shaped vibrator. Behind him, on the blackboard was written:
At the end of this extensive course of study, students will be paired off and asked to display their proficiency in each of the four fundamental stages of coitus:
ONE: Foreplay (Please Note: The stimulation of the penis to full erection AND sufficient vaginal lubrication is considered absolutely essential. One without the other will lead to a severe deduction in points.)
TWO: Penetration (Vaginal required, extra credit for demonstrated proficiency in anal and oral insertion.)
THREE: Intercourse (Beginners are urged to restrict themselves to the Missionary Position. Hogwarts School will not be held legally or medically responsible for any injuries sustained while attempting copulation while riding on broomsticks.)
FOUR: Orgasm (A special award will be given to the first couple achieving simultaneous gratification. In case of a tie, the couples will be asked to demonstrate their ability to accomplish multiple orgasms.)
Angelique glanced over at Professor Binns, who was continuing on with his lecture, oblivious to the fact that nearly all of his students were in a state of near stupor except for the pair of girls who were sitting near the back of the classroom and creating their own amusement. She wrote a note across the top of her paper and showed it to Helena.
‘BLOODY BRILLIANT!’
Helena shrugged her shoulders.
Angelique looked down at the illustration and muffled another giggle. Her eyes sparking with amusement, she wrote another note.
‘DO SNAPE’
Helena rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No!", she mouthed.
Ang sighed silently and tilted her head to the side. "PLEASE???" she scrawled beneath her previous messages.
Helena looked at her watch. Still almost forty-five minutes before class was out. All right, she’d give it a try. She dipped her quill back in the ink and turned over to the next page. She had actually done quite a few drawings of the Potions Master. She seldom had the chance to sketch in anything other than black ink, and he had made an especially intriguing subject to sketch in that limited palette. Although he was far from conventionally handsome, she had always been intrigued by the combination of his gothic-inspired clothing, graceful body movements, intelligent but suspicious eyes and the paleness of his skin contrasted with the jet black of his eyes, brows and hair.
Not at all sure where she was going to end up with this, she began by drawing his left profile. It was certainly not a flattering angle, to be sure, with that large nose appearing at it’s most beak-like. With a few strokes, she accentuated the lines running from his nose to the corner of his lips. She drew his hair in as it appeared on his worst hair days, especially lank and oily. And she placed a few of the jet-black strands plastered messily against his greasy temple. She sketched his dark brow furrowed into a ferocious scowl, and the eye underneath it was angry and intense
She paused to draw an enormous black cauldron in front of him, a large fire burning underneath it and noxious fumes escaping above the bubbling surface of its contents. Then she worked on drawing his lanky upper torso, accentuating the thinness of his chest and shoulders. She paused, waiting for her muse to inspire her again.
For a few minutes she sat still, chewing distractedly on the top of her quill. Then she gave another wicked smile and returned to her work with a vengeance.
Just before the bell rang to end the class, she finally allowed Angelique to look at the finished picture. This time, her roommate could not quite contain her guffaws, but she did try to rather unconvincingly turn them into a coughing fit. Fortunately, Professor Binns kept plowing ahead with his lecture, oblivious to the interruption.
In the completed portrait, Snape’s right hand was raised, his long, thin index finger (wildly exaggerated in the manner of a caricature) extended towards the pages of a large open book, following the words of a potion recipe. At the top of the book’s page was written: ‘Moste Potente Swellinge Potion’. His robe was thrown off and his black pants were lying in a heap around his ankles, exposing his bony knees, hairy legs and scrawny buttocks. His left hand was held out in front of him, grasped around the shaft of his penis, with a mop of pubic hair around it that appeared almost as long and oily as the hair on his head. Apparently, the organ was abnormally and abysmally small, as his hand was wrapped completely around it without a speck of skin showing. Behind him was a shelf filled with glass jars of various shapes and dimensions, and within each one was placed male genitalia in varying sizes and stages of excitation. Along the bottom of the page, she had inscribed "THE POTIONS MASTER SEARCHES FOR A PERMANENT ‘SOLUTION’ FOR HIS ‘LITTLE PROBLEM’."
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