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Imagery	By : Eureka Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 7016 -:- 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
- 1-Imagery
- 1
Title: Imagery
By: Enigma
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: This story and its plot belong to me. Harry Potter' belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. No profit is to be made from this story. This story was written without permission from JK Rowling and Warner Bros. Infringements upon copyrights are not intended.
Summery: Harry's imagination gets a little too vivid.
Notes I had originally written this for the Dawn to Dusk first-wave festival. Due to problems, it was never submitted. The challenge I received is as follows: Harry really thinks Snape is too old. Snape has a hard time accepting it, so what does he do to remedy this? (Kira)
Notes #2: This story has not been beta read *and* I'm dyslexic. This makes for an interesting situation. Read at your own risk. I've had rotten luck with beta readers. Two have already disappeared on me. Is there any volunteers out there? I have several more stories that need betaed.
All but one pupil of the sixth-year potions class watched as professor Snape demonstrated new handling techniques of volatile ingredients. It was an important lecture, one Snape was sure to test on. Hell, he'd probably assign a three-foot essay on the topic just for the shear joy of catching inattentive students. The man revelled in such things.
Hermione's quill scratched furiously against her parchment as Snape droned on about the dangers of dragon saliva. Ron's quill wasn't moving as furiously, but he still took careful notes. After all, he didn't wasn't the 'Slimy-Git-of-a-Teacher' to deduct points for not paying attention. Draco Malfoy and his fellow Slytherins took studious notes, being the 'teacher's pet's' that they were. Even Neville Longbottom was attentive and took careful notee wae was scared that Snape would swoop down upon him and do something horrible to him if he didn't. Of course it didn't matter if his notes were acceptable or not, Snape would manage to do something to him anyway. But one could hope.
Sitting in the back of the room, Harry was different. He was paying attention to the teacher, but he had no idea what the man was saying. He saw his movements, but didn't care what Snape was doing.
Harry allowed the man's smooth voice to wash over him. He observed the man's hands as they delicately manipulated crystal phials and glass beakers. He watched the man's lips as they formed words. He looked as the glossy black hair fell about his face, contrasting with his milky skin.
Turning back to his parchment, he drew what he saw. What were to be notes became a collage of illustrations. Fuelled by his imagination, the images expanded from what he saw, to what he wish he saw. A column of flesh replaced the phial in Snape's hands. The image of the man's face expanded to reveal a naked body. A picture of Snape's mouth parted slightly in a third drawing, to reveal a moist tongue.
He let the sound of the older man's voice inspire him. The sound lulled him into a state of listening without hearing. Harry didn't notice when the teacher finished his demonstration and began to walk about the room as he lectured. Snape approached to rear seats. He stood over Harry's desk for a moment.
"Well, well, Mister Potter. Aren't we quite the artist," the man mocked as he snatched the parchment away. Snape took a closer look at the parchment. He then squinted at it, as if he couldn't believe what he saw. He blinked and looked again. It took only a fraction of a second for the man to regain his composure. "It seems that the Great Harry Potter doesn't need to pay attention to my lecture. Since that he feels this way, a four-foot easy on the materials covered today should be easy work for him. And because he's obviously an expert on the uses of dragon's saliva, he would like to give us a demonstration."
Harry looked up at his teacher and paled. The Slytherins snickered. Hermione and Ron watched in sympathy. Neville cowered in his seat, hoping the potions master wouldn't notice him.
"NOW MISTER POTTER!"
The boy jumped from his seat, startled. Still pale, he trudged up to the front of the class. Along the way, he ignored the snide giggles and comments from the Slytherins. He kept his head high in a way that would make Godric Gryffindor proud. The teacher followed, parchment still in hand, and with a smirk on his face.
At the centre table, Harry eyed all of the glass beakers and phials with confusion. The distillation glass looked confusing with all of its glass tubes poking out of it. He hoped the professor wouldn't make him use it.
Snape handed the boy a granulated beaker with bluish liquid inside. "Show the class the correct way to dilute the saliva to a one-tenth concentration."
Harry swallowed, relived. That didn't sound too hard. He poured nine ounces of water into a beaker. To it, he added one ounce of the bluish saliva.
The boy looked into his beaker as he stirred it with a glass rod. At first nothing seemed to have happened. The blue mixed nicely with the clear liquid. Then suddenly, with a loud 'poof' all of the liquid evaporated into a cloud of blue vapour. He felt a wave of dizziness as the fumes entered his lungs.
"Clearly, Mister Potter is not the expert he thought he was," the professor announced to the class. Snape's voice sounded odd. It was as if the wool in his brain had spread to his ears.
The Slytherins erupted into a fit of laughter. Most of the Gryffindors however, gave Harry looks of sympathy. Neville shot Harry a look of understanding tinged with hints of relief.
"Had you been paying attention to my lecture, Mister Potter, you would had realise that you must dilute dragon's saliva with warm water."
Harry stared down at the floor as his teacher spoke. The school-bell rung, saving Harry from further humiliation. The dizziness increased suddenly, then just as he was sure he was going to pass out, it dissipated. Harry blinked as everything suddenly snapped into focus.
"Class dismissed. Get out of my sight."
Harry started towards his desk to collect his things. A heavy hand on his shoulder foiled his escape. "Not you, Mister Potter."
He gazed up at his teacher, as the man towered over him. His face held the usual scowl, but his eyes held a glint of something else. Was it glee? Excitement? Anticipation perhaps?
Uh-oh. He was in deep shit.
After every student had left the room, Snape unrolled the parchment containing Harry's 'notes.' He studied it for a moment, as if critiquing. "My, Potter, you do have an active little imagination, don't you? A filthy, dirty, little imagination. But then again, most adolescents seem to posses filthy imaginations. I must admit, this picture here is very interesting. You've seemed to captured the image of my hands perfectly. May I ask why you have chosen to draw them grasping a penis?"
Harry's flush deepened. He started to sweat as the dungeons suddenly grew warm. "Um, er, uh...."
Snape arched an eyebrow. "In English."
"I like your hands. I think they're beautiful. I don't know why I drew them that way. It just seemed right," the boy rushed out before he lost his nerve. "It was what I saw in my head, in my imagination. It was what I wanted to see."
Snape leaned against his desk. The scowl on his face had turned into a smirk. "It was what you wanted to see," he repeated.
"Yes." The boy gathered his courage. A part of him was appalled that he was confessing these things to Professor Snape of all people. He knew the man would torment him for it, but he said it anyway. "I think about your hands. I think about your mouth. I wonder what you look like beneath your robes. I can only imagine it. But I know it I'll never see it."
"Why?" Harry looked down at the floor. He didn't want to see the cruel mocking smirk or hate he knew would be upon Snape's face. He'd never seen his face without these emotions.
Of all questions Snape could have asked, this one surprised him the most. "First, because you hate me."
"I don't hate you. I find you annoying and irritating, but I don't hate you." Snape sighed. "My position as both spy and the head of Slytherin house forces me to carry a certain façade. Surly you must realise this by now."
"I know it's not all an act. You don't see me as 'The Boy Who Lived' or 'The Saviour of the Wizarding World.' You see me as just Harry. I like that."
"Any more reasons?"
Harry nodded. "Because you're a teacher. I'm a student. It's against the rules."
"Since when are you concerned about rules, Mister Potter? Is that the last if your inane reasons?"
"No. There's one more. You're too old."
Severus blinked. Too old? "I assure you, I am not old."
"You're over thirty."
"So?"
"That's old."
"I suppose thirty must seem old to one who was raised by muggles."
"Thirty's old any way you look at it," the sixteen year old muttered to himself. "He probably can't even get it up anymore."
"What was that, Mister Potter? Speak up. My hearing isn't what it used to be."
Harry blinked, confused. Did Snape just make a joke?
"I assure you, Mister Potter, I am not old. Nor am I impotent."
Harry felt as if he'd die of embarrassment. Snape stared at him, his black eyes holding a heated intensity Harry had never seen before.
"There are certain advantages to being older." The man's voice was as smooth as ever. He took a step closer to the boy. "One being experience." He took another step closer. They were now barely an inch apart. Snape's breath was hot on Harry's ear. He shivered. "Experience in technique."
Harry swallowed, suddenly nervous. "You're still old."
The professor bent his head slightly and captured an earlobe in his mouth. A learned tongue teased the flesh. Teeth scraped against skin in a way the boy had never felt before. A tingle snaked its way down Harry's side and slid into his groin.
Snape smirked, after releasing the lobe. "Do you require more evidence?"
Speechless, Harry nodded. He'd be a fool to say no.
"What was that, boy? Speak up."
"I-I-I'm n-not quite c-convinced professor," Harry stammered. He suddenly found it difficult to think.
This time, the teacher captured the boy's mouth. Snape first suckled his bottom lip, then moved on. With his tongue, he explored Harry's mouth. One of the professor's hands gently caressed his neck, the other found its way into the boy's robes to tease a nipple.
Snape tasted sweet, like tea and sugar. He smelled of spice and lemons. Harry felt his legs go weak at the sensations assaulting his senses. He was dizzy and hot.
"Are you convinced yet, Mister Potter?"
"No," Harry gasped. Why was it suddenly so damned hot in the dungeons? "Need m-more proof."
"Hmm, Gryffindors are a bit dense. Maybe I should be a bit more explicit. What do you think, Mister Potter?"
Hearing the warm silk of his voice and looking deep into the black pools of Snape's eyes, Harry could do nothing but agree. "Y-yes sir."
The potions master once again dived into the boy's mouth. While his talented tongue explored Harry mouth, nimble fingers fiddled with his pants. The button to Harry's trousers came undone. The zip was next. His pants fell to his ankles. A finger hooked into the elastic band of Harry's boxers and pulled them down, freeing the hidden erection.
The professors other hand held Harry's back, pulling him closer together. His groin pressed into Harry's bared erection. The friction from Snape's cloth covered bulge served to further engorge the boy's cock. It started to leak.
"Please," Harry gasped.
"Please what?" Snape whispered into the boy's ear. The hot breath on his skin was enticing. Nimble fingers once again set to work on buttons. In moments his shirt was opened.
"Please..."
"We're a bit inarticulate, aren't we, Mister Potter?" As he spoke, Snape pushed the boy back until he was leaning against the wall. He pinned him down with another kiss. Only this time, the professor didn't limit himself to the boy's mouth. His neck fell to gen gentle caresses. His chest came next. Each nipple was expertly worked. Teeth grazed the nubs of flesh followed by the hot tongue.
The kisses lowered until they reached the column of flesh.
"How much more evidence do you require?" Snape's breath brushed against the erection.
"Please. More." It was nearly impossible for Harry to speak.
Snape smirked. "If you insist."
Harry felt the tip of his erection being enveloped by a wet heat. A tongue worked the flesh for a few moments. Hands held his hips still and found himself fighting the instinct to thrust.
Suddenly, the rest of his erection was swallowed. Tight warmth enveloped his cock to the root. Harry didn't thing the sensations he felt could get better. He was wrong. Snape swallowed and worked the muscles of his throat. But it was the humming that pushed the boy over the edge. The sweet vibrations were too much.
It was the most explosive orgasm he had experience in his life. He came, and came hard. He screamed. A white light exploded behind his eyes.
***
The dudgeon floor was hard. Hard and cold. It was a bit damp and carried the faint odour of past potions. Then it occurred to him. What was he doing on the floor? Snape had him pressed against the wall, doing unspeakable things to him with his mouth. Wasn't he?
"So, I see that you have finally decided to grace me with your consciousness," Snape sneered down at the boy. "Did you enjoy your little stroll through La-La land? From the looks of that stain on your trousers it appears so."
Huh? Didn't Snape take his pants off? He sat up and looked. Sure enough, he was fully clothed. Furthermore, there was a wet stain on his pants.
Harry saw that all of the potion ingredients and glass contraptions had been cleared away.
"Tell me Mister Potter, what kind of potions is dragoon saliva used in?"
Harry's brain was hardly in a state to answer questions. All he could do was blink confusedly up at his potions master.
"You don't know?" The smooth voice asked.
Harry shook his head. Gods, he loved that voice. He pushed the thought away.
"Why am I not surprised?" Snape muttered to himself. "Dreams, Potter. Dragon saliva is used to educe and enhance dreams."
Oh. Harry's face turned red as he pieced it together. The fumes from the dragon saliva made him pass-out and have a dream. And not just any dream, but a wet dream. In front of Snape, with a big, wet, sticky stain on his pants for the whole world to see.
Could it get worse? He wondered as he picked himself up off the floor. At least he could use his robes to hide the stain. And at least Snape didn't know that the dream was about him.
"Get out of my sight," Snape growled as he handed him a role of parchment. Oh shite. His 'notes.' He'd forgotten about those. He felt his face redden even more.
Harry decided it was time for a quick retreat. He got as far as the door before that voice assaulted his ears again.
"And ten points from Gryffindor," Snape looked pissed. Very pissed. "I don't appreciate being fodder for your disgustingly adolescent hormone-addled fantasies. Leave. Now."
The boy didn't need any more encouragement. He turned and ran as fast as he could.
Harry didn't see the wistful smile spread across his teacher's face as he watched his beautiful student scurry off. He finally allowed his mask to fall. "Some day Mister Potter. Maybe someday."
End
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Imagery