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Secretly Slytherin	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12269 -:- 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
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter 19: Once More, With Feeling
Severus frowned and appeared to give the question a great deal of thought before answering. "No, not at all," he admitted. "Especially since it usually means everyone else is wrong."
She laughed softly and then cuddled closer to him, feeling suddenly chilled and very tired again.
"Vestia inducatus," he murmured, and she gratefully felt them sink unto the soft sheets of the bed, the warm quilt now covering them. "I told you that a true animagus transfiguration required a lot of concentration and energy," he whispered.
"Right again," she growled sarcastically.
"You probably shouldn’t try it again for a few days," he added.
She nodded her head. Her eyelids began to droop, and she found herself snapping her head back and struggling to keep her eyes open.
He laughed at her. "Go to sleep," he urged, pulling the covers around her neck.
"Umm," she protested, sleepily. She turned more on her left side and molded her body against his, reaching out across his chest with her right arm. "But I wanted….." She paused to yawn, and he moved his right arm around her as she raised up slightly. She sighed and closed her eyes, "to make love again," she drowsily finished, draping her right leg across him and settling her head against his right shoulder. Then her whole body lapsed into stillness.
Snape looked down at her face, trying to decide if her wording had been intentional or simply inadvertent. They had always rather pointedly referred to what they did as "fucking" or "having sex". And then he glanced at the clock that sat on the table beside the bed. "It’s only ten o’clock," he assured her. "We have lots of time."
He felt her head move in a barely perceptible nod.
"Just get some sleep for now," he finished.
This time there was no response, and he was fairly certain that she had been asleep before he even spoke. He lay still, feeling her soft breath move across his chest as she dozed peacefully beside him. He continued to lie quietly beside her, lost in own thoughts, and occasionally glancing over at the clock. After twenty minutes had passed, he began to carefully move his arm out from underneath her. She made a soft, mewing sound, and moved away slightly so that she was more on her back, but she did not awaken. After a few minutes more, he slowly slid away from her and got out of the bed.
*****************
It was nearly midnight when she woke. She reached out with her arms and sighed in frustration as she realized that he had once again left her alone in the bed. Well, she considered, at least he stayed until she fell asleep. And, after all, it was probably better than what most men did. Which was to turn over and be snoring away within thirty seconds after they had pulled out.
She sat up and stretched, wondering where he was. The bathroom door was open, and a light was still shining from it, but she could hear no sounds indicating that he was in there. She threw back the covers and got out of the bed. She paused to stretch and yawn again, and then pulled the quilt back in place. As she did so, something dark and soft slid off of the bed and fell unto the floor, and she leaned down to see what it could be. She picked the silky bundle up, and walked over to the bathroom so that she could see more clearly what it was.
She grinned. It was the top half of a pair of sinfully rich silk pajamas. Black, of course, with a soft pattern of silver and green running through it. She smiled and shrugged it on herself without undoing the buttons, turning back to the mirror to see how it looked. Way too big, of course, and for a brief moment she considered trying a shrinking spell. Then she shook her head, and contented herself with folding the sleeves up a bit. He had obviously left it there for her to wear. And hopefully, she thought, she wouldn’t be wearing it for too long anyway. She glanced down at the floor of the bathroom. He must have already picked up all their clothing and taken it into the other room, perhaps to perform a drying spell on them.
She walked back into the bedroom. She paused for a moment, and glanced at the door that led to the sitting room. She carefully slid her fingers underneath one the brass handle of a drawer of one of the bureaus and tugged. It remained firmly closed, refusing to budge even a fraction of an inch. She smiled and shrugged, and then headed towards the door, carefully opening it and peeking through the aperture.
The fire was still burning hotly, and he was sitting on the floor in front of it, his back propped up against the black leather sofa. His bare feet were stretched out towards the warmth of the fire, and he held a glass of red wine in his hand. He was wearing the bottom half of the pajamas, of course, and also had on a matching robe, which he had left unfastened, leaving most of his smooth, bare chest visible.
He had turned his head towards her upon hearing the door open, and he gestured at her to join him.
"I thought I heard you rustling about in there," he commented, as she approached him. "Find anything interesting?"
She smiled down at him. "Funny thing, all the drawers seemed to be locked," she replied, without a trace of guilt.
He chuckled. "Imagine that. Feeling more rested?"
"A little. Thanks for the nightgown," she said playfully, pausing to turn around in front of him. "How do I look?"
He tilted his head up and studied her critically for a moment before nodding his approval. "Very pretty," he intoned. He looked down at his wineglass and took a sip before continuing, "As usual."
She laughed and dropped down on her knees beside him. "You’re giving me a compliment?" she teased. "What’s the occasion?" she asked, laughingly.
"You were so obviously fishing for one, that for once I thought I’d indulge you," he responded, lazily.
She laughed again and leaned over to kiss him. As she did so, she glanced over and saw that on the other side of him was the bottle of wine and another wineglass. And a tray of cheese and fruit. Suddenly, despite the appetizers and meal she had eaten earlier that evening, she felt very hungry and felt her mouth water as she bent over to examine it more closely.
"Help yourself," he said, leaning over to pick up the wine bottle. He poured a glass for her and handed it to her. Then he bent down again and replenished his own goblet. She held the glass gingerly in her hand for a moment, sniffing at it rather suspiciously.
He threw his head back and sighed. "Enough. I officially declare a moratorium on slipping each other potions in food and drink, all right?"
She laughed, but did not look altogether convinced. He put his wineglass down and brought his hand up to caress her face. "I swear, this is simply wine, fruit and cheese, completely unadulterated," he declared. He bent closer to her and gave her a kiss.
Her eyes flickered over his face for a moment, and then she shrugged her shoulders and allowed herself a small sip of the wine. She swallowed and waited a moment, and then finally seemed convinced. She bent over him to retrieve some cheese and a few grapes and then settled back to sit beside him. He put his left arm around her and picked up his wineglass again with his right. He raised up his right knee and balanced the glass on it for a moment, his eyes focused on the flames dancing in front of them.
Helena contented herself with eating in silence for, smiling as she felt the fingers of his left hand absentmindedly playing with the strands of her hair. Finishing her food, she held the wineglass with both hands for a moment, before bringing it up to her lips and taking a very substantial swallow.
"So, what time are you planning on kicking me out tonight?" she asked. She had meant to say it offhandedly, but there was a definite tone of resentment in her voice.
His hand dropped down to rub against her back. "It is not a matter of my kicking you out," he chided. "You know as I well as I do that we cannot risk someone seeing you sneak back into the Ravenclaw dormitory, much less being spotted leaving my rooms," he admonished. "Therefore," he continued, "it’s best that you leave before daybreak."
She shrugged and abruptly brought the glass back to her lips, draining it. She held it out for more.
He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. He put his own glass down and picked up the bottle, pouring her another glass.
She took a slightly smaller swallow this time and then sat staring down at the glass, using the fingers of her left hand to brush her hair back behind her ears.
He put the bottle back down and frowned at her. "What’s wrong?"
She shrugged and took another, larger gulp of wine. "Nothing, everything’s fine, isn’t it?"
His frown increased and he placed his hand over hers. "Stop this." He studied her for a moment, apparently puzzled at her current mood. "Unless you’re just trying to get yourself drunk for the hell of it?" he teased, trying to get her to smile.
He wasn’t prepared for the bitter laugh that flew out of her lips.
"Oh, no, of course not. And, remember, I have LOTS to celebrate don’t I?" She allowed him to take the glass away and he set it down, mystified with her attitude.
She drew both knees up and clasped her hands around them. "After over six years of hard work and careful preparation, I have finally achieved that for which I have striven so very fervently-at the urging and insistence of my family, of course. Direct admission to Mediwitch School, the pinnacle and apex of my entire existence." Her tone was stinging and sarcastic. "My, my, it will be all downhill from here won’t it? Such a shame to reach the high point of your life at eighteen, isn’t it?"
She laughed again, putting her knees down and bringing her arms up to hug around herself. "What’s the old saying, something to the effect of ‘Beware of wishing too hard for something, you might end up getting it’?"
"Helena-" He went put his arms around her, but she pushed him away, and drew herself up to sit on her knees.
She closed her eyes and bit down on her lips so hard that for a moment he swore she was about to draw blood.
*** Control yourself. Don’t cry in front of him. And if you can’t manage that, just get the hell out of here before you make a complete ass out of yourself. ***
She shook her head and struggled to rise to her feet. She felt his hands on her again, and this time he circled her wrists tightly with his fingers, refusing to allow her to escape.
"Tell me what’s wrong," he demanded.
"Nothing. I have to go to the bathroom," she spat out.
"I don’t think so," he mocked.
She turned her head as far away from him as possible. "Just let me go!" she pleaded.
"Why are you crying?"
Warm tears had indeed begun to spill out of her eyes. He heard her take a sharp intake of breath and a strangled cry from her throat as she lost her last remnant of composure. Tears were flowing down her cheeks now and she was staring down at the floor, still avoiding his eyes.
"I don’t-" she began, and then stopped and shook her head violently back and forth.
He waited while she took in a number of deep breaths. She clenched her fists and he felt her entire body tense. His eyes watched as struggled to bring herself under control, and he observed her with great interest and more than a touch of admiration as she determinedly wiped every trace of emotion from her face. She suddenly appeared much more composed, albeit drawn and exhausted. But her eyes were still brimming with unshed tears.
"Sorry. I’m just tired," she muttered. She sighed. "And, I’m obviously just being stupid and childish," she said, spitting out the words through her clenched teeth."
He waited, not showing any sign of lifting his hands off of her.
"And I definitely think I should go back to my own room," she finished, trying again to free herself from his grasp.
He leaned forward to kiss her. At first, she made no response. And then, he drew his hands away from her wrists and wrapped his arms around her body. Suddenly, he felt her raise her own arms to return the embrace.
"And I don’t want to leave in January," she whispered.
He moved back to sit against the couch, drawing her closer to him. She threw herself against him, allowing the tears to fall unimpeded now, her breath coming in painful gasps.
He held her, his arms held tight against her, rocking her gently. After a little while, he moved his right hand up to brush back her hair softly, and began to murmur "Shhh…." soothingly in her ear.
After a few minutes, he felt her take in some deep breaths again. Her sobbing stopped, although she still clung to him tightly.
He looked down and gave her damp cheek a quick kiss. "Are you ready to talk now?" he asked.
She nodded, and backed away from him, her hands wiping at her wet face. "Yes. I guess my ‘crying jag’ is over," she admitted, self-loathing evident in her tone.
He leaned back and regarded her thoughtfully. He didn’t think this was an act. But, then again, he considered, it was Helena. So, he was only about ninety-five percent convinced.
He put out his arm, and drew her close to him again, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she put hers around his waist.
"In the first place," he began, giving her a kiss on top of her head, "you ARE exhausted. You looked tired this afternoon in Potions, and all the stress and emotional upheaval of this afternoon and evening would have been overwhelming enough. Besides which, you made your first successful transfiguration, which has taken it own, very real, physical toll upon your resources."
She nodded dumbly, her eyes trained on the floor.
*** Yeah, that’s it. Like I said. I’m obviously just tired. And stupid. So, just let me get the hell out while I have a shred of self-respect. ***
"And, in the second place," he continued, moving his hand to her shoulder and massaging it lightly. "I, too, was very surprised" he paused and gripped her tightly for a moment before continuing, "and very unhappy, to hear that you would be going away so soon."
She glanced up at him, anger and disbelief in her eyes. "You didn’t look like it," she protested.
"Oh, come now," he replied, raising his eyebrows. "What did you expect me to do? Interrupt the headmaster and say, ‘But, Albus, she can’t leave at midterm. What if I’m not done screwing her yet’?"
At that, she found herself laughing despite herself.
He joined in the laughter, glad that she truly seemed to be lifted out of her despondency for a moment.
"And, in the third place," he said, reaching over and pulling her over so that she was facing him. "You can hardly expect me to believe for a moment that you have the slightest intention of not accepting the singular distinction you are being offered. After all, I doubt that even-" He paused and tilted his head back, his dark eyes squinting in concentration as he tried to remember, " ‘Gryffindor’s Glorious Granger’ will be awarded such an honor in her seventh year."
She giggled. "You read my letter very carefully," she commented.
He nodded and smiled again.
"Though," she replied, screwing up her mouth in a grimace as she contemplated the thought, "I suppose that Little Miss Know-it-all will take this as a challenge."
"I doubt that she is interested in becoming a Mediwitch however," he replied dryly. "I certainly hope not," he added, closing his eyes and shuddering as he considered the possibility.
"You’d prefer my bedside manner, I suppose," she asked, seductively.
"Definitely," he replied, opening his eyes and smiling. He noted that she seemed to be in a better mood. In fact, there was a hint of playfulness in her words and eyes that he was sure meant she was definitely back in the mood for something else.
He reached down and began to slowly unbutton her top, lazily moving aside the fabric so that he could caress her breasts.
"And, in the fourth place," he continued, as Helena’s own hand began to move up along the silky fabric of his robe.
She stopped and looked up at him.
"That is three months away. And you may have gotten quite tired of me by then, and be ready to move on."
She snorted, moving her hands under the robe and beginning to stroke at his skin, leaning over to kiss him.
*** Or, you think you will be tired of me. Maybe you think you WILL be done screwing me by then. Don’t count on it. ***
She rose up on her knees, rubbing her nipples against his face, grunting her pleasure as his hungry mouth wrapped around her left nipple while his fingers pinched at the right.
"And if not….."
She looked down at him with her eyebrows raised.
He released his hold on her breast and raised both hands to slide the pajama top off of her completely, smiling broadly at her as his eyes raked across her totally nude body. "We can still arrange to meet," he finished. He moved his right hand between her thighs and beginning to stroke her pussy. He felt that she was already wet, and murmured his approval. Then he moved his head and bit down gently on her right nipple, releasing it a moment later to ease the hurt with quick, rapid flicks of his tongue.
She moved to straddle him and placed her hands on his neck. "Openly?" And then she gasped as she felt his fingers thrust up into her.
He stroked her firmly, and then looked back up at her, removing his hand and rolling his shoulders to help her take the robe off of him.
He sighed and shook his head. "I believe that would not be wise until you have been officially graduated from Hogwarts." He looked down as her fingers began to untie the string at his waistband. "But, I would be able to make some discrete visits to you."
"You’d come to London to visit me?" She moved back off of him so that he could rise to his feet. "Wouldn’t that be difficult?"
He laughed, and suddenly stood up, leaning lightly against her as he raised his legs to help her strip the pajama bottoms off of him. "Although one is not able to disapparate when on Hogwart’s grounds, you need only to step an inch over the designated line in order to be able to go wherever you want." He smiled as she moved her hands to stroke his thickening member. "In fact," he said, bending down and, to her surprise, gently pushing her hands away from him, "I was in London on Saturday."
"But, I saw you at the Quidditch match?" she noted, with a look of puzzlement as she watched him stride over to the fireplace.
"Yes, but I left immediately afterwards and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening there." He reached out and picked up two packages from the hearth, one wrapped in shiny red paper and the other in silver. "And, I even bought something for you while I was there," he finished, walking back to her and placing the packages beside her on the floor.
"For me?" she asked, unable to hide her surprise and pleasure.
"Of course," he replied, sitting down cross-legged beside her.
She giggled and looked back and forth at the packages. "Which should I open the first?" she asked.
"The silver," he replied, without hesitation, moving over to lie on his stomach and reaching out his hand for his wineglass.
She picked up the package and shook it gingerly, hearing something inside move back and forth. "Oops, hope it’s not fragile," she said.
He shook his head and took a sip of wine.
She tore off the packaging and looked at the large, unadorned box, glancing back at him as she tried to figure out what it could be. Getting no hint from his eyes or expression, she shrugged and reached down to open it up.
"Oh." The simple syllable was filled with surprise and happiness. "I repeat, you read my letter very carefully," she said, in an awed tone of voice. Inside the box was a fine selection of charcoal pencils, brushes and watercolors-not a cheap palette, mind you, but an nice assortment of highest-quality tubes of watercolor paint. And beneath it was a nice stack of watercolor paper. She ran her hand over it appreciatively.
"I, of course, can not claim any knowledge of what is appropriate, but the sales clerk assured me that the paper was the best type to use for watercolors," he commented. "Having not seen your work in anything other than ink, I was rather hard-pressed to decide what to buy. I assumed you had enough sketchbooks for the present?" There was a wicked gleam in his eye accompanying that last comment.
She looked back at him and smiled. "Yes, thank you." She hesitated a moment, and then moved over by him to give him a kiss. "This was very nice of you," she said.
He shrugged, nonchalantly.
"And you had to go outside of Wizarding London to get it," she noted. "And, exchange a fair amount of money," she added.
He smiled. "I assure you, I am extremely familiar with almost every nook and cranny of London, both Wizarding and Muggle-filled."
"It was still very nice of you," she said. A thought crossed her mind. "You must have a set of Muggle clothes then?" she asked.
"Obviously."
She waited.
"Yes," he replied. "I will let you see me in them sometime.
She smiled and nodded. "Thank you," she replied, leaning over and giving him another kiss.
He put his wineglass down and stretched out his fingertips to fondle her breasts as they kissed. "I think you know how to thank me," he whispered. After a moment, he drew his head back.
"I suggest you open the other package." His smile was definitely wicked now.
Her fingers quickly tore off the red-colored wrapping. Underneath it was a box, with gold letter inscribed on it reading: ‘Scrives and Brooman, Purveyors of Books for Discriminating Readers’.
She allowed herself to cry out a short, delighted shriek. These booksellers were almost as famous as "Flourish and Botts" in the Wizarding World, but she had never been inside the store. Since you had to be eighteen to enter.
"I see you made a detour into ‘Knockturn Alley’, Professor," she commented, prying off the lid of the box. Inside was a rather large, but thin book. She picked it up curiously. The cover was a rich, dark, leather. But other than some gold filigree decorating the front and the spine, there was nothing on it to indicate its title or the author. She looked at him quizzically for a moment, but he simply smiled back at her. Shrugging her shoulders, she placed the book down on her knees, and slowly turned the gold-edged pages until she came to the frontispiece.
And then laughed delightfully as she read: ‘Wanton Wizards and Witches: Illustrations of Sexual Positions.’
She glanced back at him and asked, in a teasing tone of voice, "Did you think we would run out of our own ideas?"
He laughed and moved to sit next to her so that they could look through the book together. "I think it never hurts to have something to look at that might stimulate your own creativity."
She began turning the pages. The illustrations were quite vivid and in full-color. And, since they were magical pictures, the people within them were moving, making it even more interesting. Especially since there were several close-ups dedicated to penetration as well as an "over-all" view, as it were, to how the coupling was accomplished.
It was also nicely divided up by category. It began with ‘Wizard on Top’, and then went on to ‘Witch on Top’ illustrations. Helena raised her eyebrows when she came to the next category.
"I thought I was just kidding when I wrote about doing it on broomsticks," she breathed, her eyes opening quite wide at the sight of a witch and wizard, hanging by their knees from broomsticks suspended in mid-air and going at it quite voraciously. "Aren’t they going to pass out from all the blood going to their heads?" she wondered.
Snape snickered. "The sense of light-headedness adds to the sensation."
Helena glanced back up at him, her eyes gleaming.
He shook his head. "I was capable of it once, when I was seventeen." He raised his hand and rubbed it ruefully against a place on his skull. "And I still have the bump to prove it. Do not expect me to aspire to such extremes of sexual energy at my age," he finished dryly. "But-" he continued, leaning over her and flipping past some more pages, "I definitely am willing to teach you this."
She looked down and murmured her approval. The couple in question were in a standard, missionary position. But, they were floating about six inches above the bed. "Oooh," she sighed, "That looks interesting."
Again she looked up at him with a trace of anticipation.
He shook his head. "I want you to fully recover from your exertions tonight before you attempt that."
She allowed herself a quick sigh and then laughed. "Well, that’s definitely something to look forward to," she commented. She flipped over to one of the last pages of the book and stopped.
*** Well, well. Isn’t it appropriate that they reserved that for the ‘end’ of the book? ***
She looked down and sighed, drumming her fingers against the side of the picture. "I think I see some fingerprints on this picture already?" she asked.
He nodded. "Well, I did need to obtain that ‘special ingredient’ for my potion today," he replied quietly, bringing his hands up and around her, beginning to massage her breasts as he rubbed his once-again hardening cock against her bare skin.
"Why do I get the feeling that you are not going to be satisfied until I let you do this?" she inquired, a trace of hostility in her voice.
She relaxed slightly as he dropped his fingers back to her wet pussy and began to fondle her there.
"You liked my finger today," he noted, kissing her gently on her back and shoulders.
She snorted. "Yes, and may I remind you that your prick is a hell of a lot bigger than your finger," she retorted angrily.
He raised up on his knees so that he could begin to gently rub the shaft of his cock against her moist lips. "I’d do it slowly, with lots of lubrication," he promised.
She began to sway back against him, trying to get him to probe deeper.
"It’s an extraordinary sensation, very pleasurable," he said. He drew back slightly and urged her around, his mouth searching hungrily for her nipples again.
She leaned back and stroked down his hair as he licked and sucked. "Yes, but you’ve only been on the giving end, haven’t you?" she replied, still sounded rather irritated.
He abruptly stopped and raised his eyes to her mockingly.
She blinked. "Oh!" she added, blankly.
He drew back and reclined beside her and began to laugh. "You mean I’ve finally managed to shock you?" he asked in a delighted tone.
"Well, I just assumed that you were….." She stopped, not quite sure what to say.
He reached his arms up and pulled her down on him. "I consider myself heterosexual, undoubtedly." He stroked his long hands down and up her body. "Tits and pussies are much too pretty and accommodating. I assure you, women are my first preference. However, you must be aware that it is impossible for a boy to spend seven years in a Slytherin dormitory without getting buggered quite a few times. And, I found, it was definitely better to relax and enjoy the experience. After all, you do get the chance to ‘return the favor’ after awhile."
She nodded.
He pulled her further down on top of him. "Now then, does this mean you want to be on top, or is there another position that caught your eye?"
She smiled and gave him a kiss before moving off of him and returning to the book. She scanned it quickly for the picture that she was looking for. Finding it, she turned the book towards him.
He rose to his knees and glanced at it. Smiling, he said, "Ah, want to play leapfrog?"
She nodded.
"Here, or on the bed?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Here’s fine," she said.
He clucked his tongue. "After all that whining about not having a bed," he chastised.
"This rug is softer than that damned desk," she retorted.
"Uhm," he replied, noncommittally. He paused for a moment and grabbed some pillows off of the couch and tossed them in front of her. "Up on your knees then."
She smiled and positioned herself in an upright kneeling position, her legs spread wide. "Yes, sir."
He knelt behind her between her legs and wrapped his arms around her. He gave her one more kiss on the neck before dropping his right hand down to his cock to help guide himself in.
She moaned as she felt him enter her and then allowed herself, with his help, to fall slowly forward onto the pillows until her head was all the way down. Once she was there, he pressed forward, penetrating her very deeply, and she groaned in pleasure again. She brought her arms up over her head and began to move in rhythm with him as he stroked. He paused after a minute or so, and she felt him reposition himself so that his legs were now straddling hers, pushing her legs closer together and delightfully tightening the sensation for both of them. Now, as he stroked, he reached down to fondle her breasts and she began to stretch her arms out, unable to lie still as she felt herself edge closer and closer to coming. Sensing her excitement, he drew himself upright and began to viciously ram back and forth, his right hand dropping down to fondle her clitoris at the same time.
She shrieked as her orgasm hit, and bucked up wildly against him, feeling no relief from his frenzied thrusting as her vaginal muscles tried vainly to spasm him out. She fell further forward unto the floor, and frantically pushed the pillow further down so that it was lying against her stomach. He followed the motion of her body, so that now she was lying on the floor and he was lying on top of her, his arms underneath her breasts again. Then she lifted up against him again as he furiously stroked into her, finally hearing his own cry reverberate into the air as he slammed hard against her, raising up on his toes as he tried to push himself even further into her as he came. And then the air was filled with her soft moans and his labored panting as he collapsed on top of her.
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Secretly Slytherin