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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 8: The Dinner and the Dream
As the three girls entered the Great Hall, Helena was surprised to see that many of her housemates were looking at her sympathetically. Apparently, word of her troubles had spread rapidly and the rest of her house was as surprised as Angelique to hear that she had been awarded a detention. The number of points that their escapade had cost might have been a source of resentment. But, it was fairly early in the year, and Snape was notorious for deducting points for the flimsiest of reasons. He had already deducted twice as many points from the Gryffindors already this year. And they hadn’t even threatened the school with annihilation due to an uncontrolled potions explosion. She even heard a number of people joking that it was just too bad that Snape hadn’t been closer to the cauldron when it had erupted. Other people were theorizing that he had contained the dangerous lava flow by surrounding it with an oil slick that he had wrung out of his hair.
Helena joined in their laughter, but she kept throwing warning glances over at her two roommates. Somehow, the one thing that hadn’t yet become common knowledge was why Snape had been so angry with her. She had sworn her roommates to secrecy regarding the pictures, and she hoped that they knew how deadly serious she was that no one else was to know about them.
She glanced up at the teachers tables located at the front of the room. Snape’s usual place was in the far left-hand corner of the main table, but to her relief he did not seem to be gracing them with his presence tonight. Or else he had eaten and left before she and her roommates had arrived.
She looked back down at her own plate and debated what to have for dinner. There was a chicken entrée, but she decided she would make do with a salad and a large bowl of the delicious cream of mushroom soup. The homemade bread smelled especially delicious tonight, and she ate quickly and eagerly.
She was finishing up her second bowl of soup, using a piece of bread to sop up the remainder of the broth, when she became aware that one of the Ravenclaw fourth years was standing on the other side of the table, trying to get her attention. It was Stephanie Bountman, and she was one of the students that Helena was tutoring in Arithmancy this year.
"Hey, Steph, what’s up?"
"Uh, I hate to ask, but there’s a test coming up tomorrow and I was wondering if you could help me go through some notes tonight?"
She considered the request thoughtfully. She had her own homework, of course, but nothing that absolutely needed to be done tonight. "Sure, no problem," she replied.
"Thanks!" cried the girl gratefully.
Helena smiled and nodded and watched the girl move back to her own seat. After a moment, she found her eyes glancing back up at the main table and to her surprise saw that Snape was now seated in his usual spot. It appeared that he, too, was fond of the soup. For a large, steaming bowl had just appeared before him.
He picked up his spoon and to Helena if seemed as though the rest of the large room suddenly fell silent and dark. She watched mesmerized as his long, thin fingers grasped the metal utensil lightly and he twirled it softly around, just as he had done with the quill while he was interrogating her. And she found to her amazement that somehow this simple gesture was again inexplicably fascinating and arousing.
Apparently satisfied as to the shape and heft of the spoon, he dipped it carefully into the soup and brought it back out. She could see the steam rise off of the liquid in the spoon and he looked at for a moment before pursing his lips and blowing softly across it. As he did so, she could have sworn that she felt his breath brush against the back of her own neck. It felt so uncannily real that she actually glanced around to make sure that no one was indeed behind her. There wasn’t a soul near her, and she knew it hadn’t been one of the Hogwarts ghosts, for there had been no accompanying chill. Just that soft, gentle whisper of breath.
She looked back at Snape. He was still staring down at his spoon as if debating whether or not it was cool enough now to eat. Or perhaps he was no longer hungry. For he suddenly turned the spoon to the side and let most of the thick, creamy broth fall back into the bowl. And then he turned the spoon upright again and studied the coated utensil for a moment with his coal-black eyes. And then slowly, deliberately, she saw his tongue flick out lick a small amount of the glaze off of the spoon. He turned the spoon ever so slightly and his tongue reached out again, this time languidly licking a thin line from the top to the bottom of the spoon’s bowl.
Helena held her breath for a moment and felt her stomach and fingers tighten. A moment later, she could feel her vaginal muscles contract involuntarily and was aware of a sudden heat and moistness in her groin again.
She looked back down at the table and grabbed another piece of bread, trying to distract herself. She felt her eyes being pulled back to the front of the room, however. She sat with a piece of bread bitten off but not chewed in her mouth and saw that his tongue was still moving in and out slowly, licking the spoon in an unusually sensual manner. When he did put the spoon all the way in his mouth, he turned it upside down first and drew it out slowly. She saw traces of the broth coat his top and bottom lip, and then saw the tip of long, pliable tongue move slowly around his mouth, licking and wetting his lips in one smooth and leisurely circle of motion.
She felt her mouth water and the bread she had been holding in her mouth began to melt away. She hurriedly began to chew and swallow it, and suddenly became aware of the fact that Stephanie was again at the other side of the table, trying to get her attention.
"So, do you want to meet me in about a half hour?" she was saying.
Helena swallowed. "No, let’s go right now," she replied hurriedly, rising to her feet.
Angelique looked up at her with surprise. "You said on the way down here that you were starving and were definitely going to have dessert?"
"Guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought," she shrugged. Which wasn’t true at all. She was hungry. Very hungry. But if she stayed here any longer she knew that she would never be able to drag her eyes off of Snape and what he was doing. She hesitated, and then grabbed another piece of bread from the table.
"Let’s go," she said.
It turned out that Stephanie was not the only Ravenclaw looking for help with Arithmancy that night, a fact for which Helena was eternally grateful. She was kept much too busy with the group of younger students that crowded around her to spend too much time debating just why Snape eating a bowl of soup had seemed so incredibly sensual. Actually, Snape’s name had come up quite often during the course of the evening, as one student after another had breathlessly asked what her detention had been like. Her very short, noncommittal answers seemed to satisfy everyone that it signified that it had been horrendous, and more than one of them went off thanking their lucky stars that it hadn’t been them.
After most of the students had wandered off the bed, she had written a note to her mother. She wrote a short, cheery note indicating that school was going well but that there had been a silly mishap and she was in need of a new book bag. Could she send her a new one right away? Helena had no doubt that her mother would be out to the store in no time and that she would end up buying a ridiculously expensive and gaudily chic one because a salesperson would talk her into it. Then she ran up to the school owlrey and sent it off, getting back to the dormitory just before curfew went into effect.
She spent some more time in the common room practicing some Charms and Transfiguration Spells and catching up on her own Arithmancy reading. Finally, her eyelids dropping with exhaustion, she made her way back up the stairs to her room.
Angelique and Kathleen were still awake, but were in their beds, chatting quietly away. She changed into her nightgown quickly and jumped into her own bed. She checked her alarm to make sure it was set to the normal time and saw that the time was a few minutes past midnight.
The day was finally over, she thought as she doused the light and snuggled drowsily into her pillow. Whatever happened tomorrow, it couldn’t possibly be worse than what had happened today.
Within a few minutes, she had fallen asleep.
***
She was in the Potions Classroom, standing over her cauldron, carefully stirring the mixture and debating whether or not it was quite ready for the last few ingredients to be added.
No, not quite hot enough she decided. The Lace Wings needed to melt as soon as they touched the hot liquid, and she better let it continue to heat up for a few more minutes. And then, the two cat whiskers should be added. Allow to boil. And then stir in the rose thorns and immediately extinguish the fire.
She groaned as she straightened up. She had been leaning over that cauldron for hours, it seemed.
She looked back at the potion book sitting on the table beside her. "Sensitizing Potion" was a most complex and delicately balanced elixir, requiring great precision in the measurement of the ingredients and a great attention to the intricacies of the changing texture of the potion as you made it. And such an interesting assortment of ingredients was required. To begin with it had a number of insect antennae, cat whiskers, and the frontal lobe of a bat brain. And then came a large assortment of feathers, flower petals and just a touch of almond oil. And, of course, you also needed to add other various ingredients which effected the taste and smell of the potion. It had started out thin, turned to an almost sludge-like condition, and was now quite liquefied again. If she prepared it correctly, it should have an indigo-blue color and have the viscosity of honey.
Oh, time for the lacewings. The recipe said two to three. Well, one, two…..No, better make it three she quickly decided. Yes, that was just right. Now it was time for the two cat whiskers. As she tossed these in, she could swear that they shattered into innumerable tiny pieces and swept through the entire potion. Time to stop stirring now, and let it come to a boil. She leaned over and sniffed the fumes arising from the potion as she waited for the bubbles to break out over the surface. It had the scent of exotic flowers and she leaned further over it, allowing the scent to wave over her. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the wonderful odors to fill her entire being and then she glanced down at the potion again. It was a marvelous shade of blue, and in just a few seconds it would be boiling and ready for the thorns.
She had been very choosy in picking out the rose stems that she had used. To ensure that the potion was prepared properly, you had to make sure the diameter of the stems was neither too thin nor too thick. Likewise, she had been very careful in snipping off only the very best thorns and carefully counted out two dozen of them. And she had placed them in a small silver bowl that had been sitting right beside the open book. But, as she looked over at the table, she saw to her horror that the dish appeared to be inexplicably empty. She gasped in horror and stared frantically back down at the potion. It was just about to boil and her whole days work was going to be ruined if she didn’t have those thorns ready to stir in.
Confused, she stepped back from the cauldron and let out a shriek when she realized that she had just backed into a very solid form. A hand, the arm above it swathed in black with just a bit of white showing at the sleeve, suddenly appeared at her left side. It was a large but slender hand, and in the middle of its white, thin palm were the thorns.
"Are you looking for these, Miss Harrison?" It was a soft, low, carefully enunciated baritone voice.
Snape’s voice.
"Yes, Sir."
"Ah, I thought so. When I came in you were so engrossed with sniffing your potion that you didn’t even hear me. I was afraid you might forget to add these in time."
"Thank you, Sir."
She held out her own hand, and he flipped his hand over so that the thorns slid unto her own palm. One of the largest ones dug sharply into her skin for a moment. But before she could react he had grasped his hand about her wrist and brushed against the offending barb back with his thumb, rendering it harmless.
"It’s almost ready," he whispered. He kept his left hand firmly clasped about her wrist and his right arm snaked about her side, holding her gently around her waist. She caught her breath and found herself unable to move for a moment. Mainly because she wasn’t sure which way she wanted to move. Away from him. Or closer to him.
She looked back down at the potion and saw a few air bubbles break the surface. She went to move her hand forward to release the thorns, but she felt his grip tighten, holding her back.
"Not quite yet, Miss Harrison."
A few seconds passed.
"Now!" he intoned and urged her hand further over the cauldron. As the thorns hit the liquid, he whispered "Extinguem" and the fire which had been blazing below the cauldron suddenly went out. The liquid below her rose in froth for a few seconds and then subsided into stillness.
He had released her left hand, but his right hand was still softly lying against her hip. "You did very well, Miss Harrison. I am pleased," he whispered into her ear.
She watched, fascinated as he went to dip the index finger of his left hand into the liquid. She opened her mouth to cry out that it must still be too hot. But she saw to her amazement that he was able to immerse his fingertip below the surface and keep it there with no apparent discomfort. As he withdrew the finger, she could see that it appeared that the potion had the desired, honey-like consistency.
"Excellent."
He brought the tip of his finger up to her mouth. "Taste it," he urged.
She opened her mouth obediently and he thrust in his fingertip. The potion was sweet and lemony and nutty all at the same time, and she found herself sucking hungrily at his finger. She used her tongue to strip off the sticky goo, holding his finger firmly against the roof and sides of her mouth as she licked it clean.
"Tastes good, doesn’t it?"
She nodded, still sucking greedily away.
"But," he said, removing his finger and moving his right hand up to grip around her right wrist, "It feels even better."
He forced her hand, palm down into the potion until a thin layer coated her skin. Then he brought it up and she watched fascinated, as it hardened gently against the skin. She tried to bring it up to her face so that she could taste the sweet thick liquid again, but found that he was holding her back.
"Watch," he commanded.
She looked and saw to her surprise that the gel was fading gently away. No-it as being absorbed into her skin. After a few minutes, her hand was as clean and dry as it she never put it into the potion.
And then he blew his breath lightly against her palm.
She moaned. It was as if the number of nerve endings on her skin had suddenly multiplied ten fold. Then he brushed his thumb back against her palm and she moaned again. There were sensations of softness, of tiny little pinpricks, of silkiness, of responses she had never dreamed of. Then he brought her hand to his mouth and flicked out his tongue, leaving a long, moist trail of wetness down the middle of her palm. She thought she would faint. She jerked her hand away, unable to stand the contact.
"Can you imagine what this would feel like on other parts of you?" he whispered.
She nodded, unable to speak.
His left hand moved to the front of her robe and he undid the buttons deftly. Then he used his right hand to move the robe aside so that he could feel her bare skin underneath. And she suddenly knew that the only thing she had on besides her school robe was her panties. He moved his hand to her left side, cupping softly around her large breast but not touching the areola. "Here?"
She nodded again.
He moved his hand over, this time using his knuckles to softly brush against the erect skin of her right nipple. "Here?"
"Yes," she whispered.
His hand moved down until he pressed underneath the soft silk of her underwear. He hesitated for just a moment and then moved his fingers into her already wet and creamy slit.
"There?"
"Please," she whimpered.
"Then lay down on the table for me," he commanded. He moved his hands up to her collar and jerked, tearing the rest of the buttons open as he stripped the robe off of her. She went to remove her panties but found his hands again on top of hers. "Not yet," he warned.
She moved forward towards the table. His hand impatiently moved to fling the book to the ground but he picked up silver dish and held it as she turned around and seated herself upon the edge of the table. She lay back and scooted backwards so that she lay the full length across the table. She saw him move back to the cauldron and dip the silver bowl into the potion. He walked back to the table and stood beside it, staring down at her. After a moment, he balanced the bowl upon her stomach.
"Give me your hand," he ordered. She raised up her right hand and he caught it in his and dipped it into the blue gel. Then he raised it to her right nipple, gently swirling it around until it had fully coated the large, dark mass. Then he repeated the motion, this time coating her left nipple. He paused, and brought her fingertips up to his mouth, using his own tongue this time to clean off the excess potion.
She could feel the potion absorbing into the skin of her nipples, arousing her and pushing them into even harder points. He bent over and blew softly against both of them and then flicked out his tongue to lick the right nipple gently. Her back arched and she cried in pleasure. He leaned over to briefly suck at her left nipple and her hands went down to stroke his face as he sucked. He drew away from her and smiled.
"I want you to play with them yourself while I get ready to please you down there."
She immediately brought up her own hands to begin stroking and pinching at the nipples. The sensitized skin of both her fingers and the tips of her breasts made it exquisitely pleasurable.
She felt him tug at her panties, and she lifted up to help him ease them off of her. She had barely felt them slip over her ankles when she felt his left hand press against her pussy, holding her apart while his right hand nudged in to coat her there too.
He slid his fingertips in slowly, methodically. Up and down her outer labia, gently stroking her inner labia, and then pouring some of the potion directly from the dish unto her engorged clitoris. He paused to blow gently on it as the gel absorbed into her. And then she felt his mouth close around it, sucking and nibbling on it as she screamed in ecstasy.
Abruptly he stopped.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes, yes!"
He placed his hands upon her thighs, moving her legs further apart. He moved his head back between her legs and began licking all over the swollen and sensitized tissues. She closed her eyes and thrust her head back. She could see the image of him sitting at the table in the Grand Hall, licking and flicking with his tongue at the spoon and knew that he was doing the same exact motion up and down her slit. She kept urging him back towards her clit, but he kept avoiding it, never again directly pressing or pushing against it. She moaned in frustration and dropped her hands away from her breasts, clawing at the table.
She heard him laugh again and he abruptly stopped and walked to the other side of the table.
"Patience, patience, Miss Harrison. I’ve already shown you that the most intricate of potions can not be rushed. And neither can these exquisitely satisfying sensations."
He paused, leaning over the table with his hands on either side of her head. She watched, fascinated, as he slowly licked his lips with that languorous, fluid motion and dropped his face towards her. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, expecting to feel him kiss or lick her lips. Instead he stood still, and she felt the soft ends of his long black hair brush against her cheeks. He remained in that position, leaning over her until she could smell the mingled odors of the gel and her own sex upon his breath. Then he reached down and clasped his hands around her wrists. Gently, he pulled her arms up over her head. And then he brutally thrust them apart and she could feel cold metal suddenly clamp around them. Her wrists were now chained to the corners of the table. And he was moving back towards the other end of the table.
"What are you doing?"
"Just immobilizing you for a moment. Don’t worry." His voice was cool and mocking.
She tried kicking him away, but he easily caught her ankles and in a moment she found that they too were chained down to the opposite corners of the desk.
He leaned over again and blew across her nipples. They responded as before, but this time he made no movement to lick or stroke them. It was agony for her flesh to be so aroused and to not feel his touch upon it.
She felt him brush against her clitoris again and she growled, her cry a mixture of anger, pleading and something approaching pain. Her thighs were contracted as she tried uselessly to draw her legs close enough together to allow her sensitized flesh to make contact with something. Anything.
Then she felt him slowly crawl up on the table and lie on top of her. He was still fully clothed, and the fabric of his black frock coat was stiff and bristly against her tortured skin. But at least it was contact. He pressed against her and she could feel the hardness of his erection press dig into her stomach.
"Untie me. Please." Her voice was pleading.
"Hmmm. I’ll consider it," he replied lazily. His black eyes were mocking and cruel as he gazed into her face.
He looked down and moved so that his left knee was pressed against her pussy. She found herself unable to keep herself from squirming against it as she sought release from the agony of her arousal. She was so wet that the fabric of his pants was instantly soaked.
He looked back up at her face, his expression one of elaborate puzzlement. "Wouldn’t you prefer to have something else there?"
"You know I do!"
He shrugged and moved to nuzzle her left earlobe. "No, you have to tell me what you want," he urged. "What do you want?" he whispered into her ear.
"I want you to fuck me!" she screamed.
The next thing she knew she was sitting up in her own bed, her breath panting and gasping and her heart beating wildly. She was covered in sweat and she was sure that she had actually screamed the last words aloud as she woke.
She clutched at her bedclothes and listened to hear if she had awakened either of her roommates. After a few seconds, Kathleen’s snores and Angelique’s soft, even breathing assured her that they had slept through her outburst. She lay back, trembling and still feeling faint. And still incredibly horny.
She glanced over at the clock. It was three o’clock in the morning. She lay still on her back for a moment, her heartbeat and her breathing returning to normal. But she knew there was no way she could just turn over and go back to sleep. Her panties were wet and the flesh underneath them could no longer be denied.
She thrust off her panties and spread her legs wide, stroking and circling herself frantically. She seemed unable to find release, however. And then she thought of Snape. She lay back and pretended he was on top of her, stroking furiously in and out. Within a few moments, she closed her eyes and moaned as she finally peaked.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Don't Lie to Me