Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Valentine	By : AmaliasTale Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 4498 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, but I did have fun

Chapter List
- 1-Valentine
- 2-2
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Snape held out an arm, languidly beckoning her to come to him. Amalia adopted a seductive swagger, and, upon reaching him, mounted his lap, her knees on either side of his legs and her hands just above his shoulders on the back of the chair. She ran her breasts, nipples erect, back and forth across his cheeks and over his lips. When he opened his mouth receptively, she pulled back slyly and brought her lips to his ear. “Pleasure now?” she purred.

Snape chuckled, short and deep, the reverberations rippling between their bodies, and traced his palm along the curve of her buttocks. No further response necessary, Amalia sank down and held her naked crotch firmly against his thigh, and began to undulate and wiggle teasingly. “You weren’t very nice to me in class,” she pouted, “I want something.”

“Oh?” Snape arched an eyebrow, his cool hands traveling the contours of her hips.

“Another answer.”

“Oh, you’ll get one,” he growled, shoving his erection urgently against her.

Amalia shook her head, tapping her finger on his chest playfully; “No, a new one,” she said sternly, “A question you don’t expect. I’ve been so nice.” Leaning in, she ran her tongue over his earlobe and whispered seriously, “You owe me.”   Pausing contemplatively, she added, “Have you ever thought about fucking me before?” as she squirmed against him.

“Perhaps…it has crossed my mind, fleetingly. I try not to entertain such notions about students.”

Amalia snorted, reaching below to stroke his hardness through the fabric of his robes, “No? You’ve never wanked to me, Professor?”

Snape coughed. “Ah, no, I have not. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I think you’ll start,” she cooed naughtily in his ear.

Snape laughed a sharp, staccato laugh, “You’re quite bold, Miss Neverscorn. I must admit, I am enjoying it.”

Grinning mischievously, Amalia slipped off of his lap, kneeling before him and opening his frock coat. Snape eyed at the damp sheen she’d left on his trousers where she had sat and smirked at her. Amalia mirrored the smirk as she nimbly undid his pants to free his straining prick. She licked her lips as her fingers wandered delicately over his length, before wrapping one fist around him tightly and bringing him to her mouth.

Skimming her tongue over the head and lapping daintily at the dripping tip, she accepted him into her lips. As she became used to his size and encouraged by his low moans, her cautious dips and bobs gave way to starved, sloppy pumping and sucking, engulfing his thick cock more and more, deeper and deeper, until it hit the back of her throat and she choked. Pulling him from her mouth, saliva and precum smearing her lips, she gagged and sputtered; Snape cast a superior look, “Are you sure a little girl like you can handle me?”

“Only one way to find out,” she rejoined, again descending on his erection with relish, cradling his heavy testicles in her feminine hands, determined to prove her merit and unhinge the austere Potions Professor. Groaning, Snape shifted and entangled his fingers in her long hair, mercilessly ramming himself far into her throat. When she could take no more, Amalia jerked him free and studied his face, her eyes wide and wet and bloodshot from the effort; imploringly, she mewed, “Can we…?”

Snape nodded brusquely and Amalia clambered to his lap, lowering herself down carefully and allowing her slick folds to glide along his rigid shaft, grinding her aching clitoris desperately against his cock. She lifted her hips, prepared to receive him, but Snape pushed her away, rasping, “Wait.”

Flustered, Amalia stammered, “W-what, why?”

“Now you answer me, are you a virgin?” Snape demanded pointedly.

Apprehensively she admitted, “Oh, well, yes,” hastily adding, “I mean, I’ve done other things.”

Snape sneered, “Other things?”

“Played around some …You know, like…” she wrinkled her nose, embarrassed, and muttered, “Hand stuff, mouth stuff.”

“So, you’re a cock tease,” he charged, his tone scornful, but edged with amusement.

Amalia frowned. “Well I never had any complaints,” she retorted defensively.

“No, you wouldn’t, not from schoolboys,” he spat the words with disdain, “But do you know anything of pleasing a man?” They stared at each other, Amalia’s lip quivering with abashed frustration, and Snape’s voice softened. “This will hurt, you know,” he said slowly.

“But I want you to fuck me!” she pleaded.

“Oh, I will,” said Snape smugly. “That answers my question as to whether you would beg me for it…” he dropped his hand and grazed his knuckles lightly over her slit, continuing, “Miss Neverscorn, I will fuck this precious little cunt in every fashion conceivable; which comes first matters not to me.” He shrugged. “Tonight I propose a more efficacious position than this for your first time. Make it… nice.”

Guiding her off of him, Snape stood and grasped her hand, and lead her to the other side of the desk, which he cleared with a flick of his wand. He whipped off his cape and laid it atop the hard wooden surface, and, drawing her close, gripped her bottom to hoist her onto the desk.

“Put your heels up,” he hissed in her ear. Quickly, she complied, and Snape pried her knees apart, the corners of his mouth twisting into a faint smile as he surveyed between her legs, passing his pale index finger along her swollen clitoris before easing it into her wet vagina. Gradually at first, in and out, his other hand resting on her thigh and his eyes glued to her face. Amalia’s own gaze flickered to the long finger sliding deliberately inside her; he added another easily, as she was drenched with arousal, continuing, idly, to prime her.   Finally, Amalia’s eyes rested on his and she breathed, “You can fuck me now, if you want.”

“I am in no rush.” Snape plunged another finger into her and Amalia tensed. He extracted his fingers and brought them to his lips, tasting his fingertips before wiping them dry on his tunic. His hands traveled to the long line of buttons that bisected his torso and he unfastened them leisurely, dropping the garment unceremoniously to the floor, so that he stood before her in a thin undershirt and his partially-undone trousers. He stripped his shirt off, too, tossing it aside before dropping his pants to the ground and stepping toward her. Amalia admired his naked body, lean and pale and slightly vulnerable now, in a way she had never seen before.

Pushing her back, he climbed over her, reaching down to steer his member to her waiting quim. “I’ll be gentle, little girl,” he snarled, brushing the hair from her forehead as Amalia trembled beneath him.

He worked into her, proceeding slowly and resting often to allow her to become accustomed to his girth; meeting the resistance of her hymen, he whispered, “Better to do this part fast,” and thrust abruptly, tearing her asunder in one swift stroke. Amalia squealed in pained surprise, screwing her eyes shut and digging her nails into the flesh of his back.

Halting, Snape panted, “Are you alright?”

Amalia peered up at him and said, with a weak smile, “Yes… keep going.”

Snape increased his pace, rapt with concentration. Amalia watched him; he was quiet now, but for the muted, staccato grunts that escaped his throat with growing frequency. He pounded away at her, ostensibly oblivious to her presence in the act, and Amalia started to feel a bit forgotten; she murmured “Severus”, hoping to reestablish a connection, to attest her enjoyment, but he made no indication that he heard her and, soon, any lingering tenderness in his manner melted away.

Lost in passion, he drove into her hungrily, ferociously, his brow glistening with perspiration, dark hair plastered against pallid skin, the lines on his face accentuated by the severity of his expression. Boosting himself up with both arms and burying his manhood in her to the hilt, he cried out and shuddered. Amalia felt his hot seed erupt inside of her. Snape’s elbows gave way and he collapsed, lying there on top of her, gasping for breath as his erection diminished within her.

Amalia stared at the ceiling. She coughed meekly, stirring Snape from his post-coital stupor.   Immediately he rolled off of her, fluidly slipping his arm under her shoulders and pulling her body against his, cradling her alongside of him.

“Um…” she mumbled apologetically, “I did like it, I really did. I’m sorry I didn’t....um…”

“Didn’t come?” he asked derisively with eyebrows raised, but then concluded in a milder tone, “I’m not sure many women do their first time. Let me.”

He massaged her clitoris and Amalia stiffened apprehensively; she wanted to finish, to enjoy herself, to give herself over to complete ecstasy, but she could not quit thinking about it, trying too hard. So she observed his ministrations with tacit curiosity and, when she noticed that his fingers were stained with blood, she inhaled anxiously, mortified and revolted. With a sideways glance, Snape whispered, “No matter. Just relax…. here.” He took Amalia’s hand and placed it between her legs, turning toward her expectantly.

Amalia went red. She looked at him questioningly and Snape curled his lip. He scoffed, “I know you’ve done that thinking about me. If anything, it should help that I am present.”

Amalia began to make small, uncertain circles over her clitoris with her fingers as Snape’s own hand drifted to her breast, streaking the pale skin crimson as he toyed with her nipple. Amalia settled into to crook of his arm, her fingers picking up rapidity, until her body twitched and convulsed, hips bucking and legs thrashing, her rapturous moans stifled behind gritted teeth.

“Nicely done, Miss Neverscorn,” Snape said, amused. He sat upright and slid off of the desk, collecting his vesture and beginning to dress. Removing his wand from his pocket, he mouthed a spell, clearing the desktop of blood and semen and sweat. Amalia gave him a wan smile; suddenly, she felt shy at her nakedness, and her inexperience, and the blood and the messiness and the fact that she just masturbated to orgasm in front of her Potions teacher.

“Put your clothes on,” Snape directed, scooping her things from the floor and placing them beside her. As he buttoned his own shirtsleeves, he continued, “I will let you into the Prefect’s bathroom; you can have a proper bath.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly, sorting through her rumpled attire.

When they were fully dressed, Snape walked to the door of the classroom, and Amalia trailed behind. Before he opened it, he turned to her and warned tersely, “Behave yourself, lest we are seen.”

They walked in silence to the Prefect’s bathroom, Amalia a chaste distance from Severus the whole way, appearing as no more than an ordinary teacher and student walking casually together through the halls of Hogwarts. At the doorway to the bathroom, Snape stopped and regarded her for a moment. “You’ll be alright?”

She nodded.

“Good,” and, lowering his voice, he growled, “I have much more planned for you, Neverscorn.”

She nodded again, more enthusiastically this time.

With a flick of his wand, the door swung open and, without another word, Snape spun on his heel and stalked away.

Amalia sat cross-legged on her bed in the Slytherin dorm, wearing her pajamas and absently leafing through a magazine, reflecting on the events of that day, when Esmeralda stumbled in, barefoot and pink-cheeked, her outfit in disarray, smelling of Butterbeer and boys’ cologne. “You missed a hell of a party, Ams,” she giggled.

Nonchalant, Amalia arched an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?”

“It was out of control! But, hey! I did NOT forget your prom-issssse,” Esmeralda sang.

“Which was…?” Amalia bluffed.

“Did it work?! The charm! The envelope! Miiiiiiiine did… I found out more than a few things about Benjamin Sutherly,” she boasted, laughing.

Amalia looked her friend dead-on and said, with affected bitterness, “Ok, fine. I found out that Jameson Cork has a crush on some sixth-year.”

“Ohhh… heh, you like him?”

Amalia shrugged, “Yeah, I mean sort of… but he likes someone else, so… whatever. I’ll live.”

“Don’t worry, Ams, you’ll find someone. I will NOT let you leave Hogwarts a virgin!” Esmeralda promised emphatically, toppling onto her bed in a fit of tipsy titters.

Amalia rolled her eyes and shut the magazine, throwing it on the floor beside the bed. “Goodnight.” She crawled beneath the blankets and settled down to sleep, smirking. Some things are just better kept to oneself.
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Valentine