Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter 9: After the Afterglow Fades
Helena lay with her eyes closed, oblivious to everything except the wild beating of her own heart and the slow ebbing away of the ecstasy she had just experienced. Gradually, she became aware of Snape’s own breathing, which was slowly becoming more deep and even as he too recovered from his orgasm. She also became more aware of the weight of his body pressing down on top of hers. She wiggled slightly, trying to get into a position where she could breathe more comfortably, and he immediately raised his head and opened his eyes.
"Sorry," he murmured, and began to move off of her.
"No, just-" She reached up and urged him back down. "Not right on top of me," she finished.
He moved slightly to the right, moving the bulk of his weight off of her, but leaving their torsos touching and his left leg nestled between hers. He closed his eyes again and lay so that his head was just above her shoulder.
She glanced down at the bed covers tangled in a heap at the bottom of the bed.
"Accio sheet," she whispered, and the dark, shiny sheet unwound itself and rose to cover them.
Snape grunted his approval as the soft covering crept up about him, and Helena brought her hand up to stroke his dark hair away from his face. The slightest hint of a smile played upon his lips as she did so, and then she moved her fingertips down to lightly brush against the skin of his neck and upper back in a calming, comfortable rhythm. A moment later, she heard his breath deepen even more and felt his entire body relax against her, and she knew he was asleep.
She lay absolutely still for a moment, wanting him to fall into a deep sleep before she dared to move again. Finally, she moved slowly to a more comfortable position, turning her head to the right and letting her body press lightly against his. She glanced down at his left arm, which was flung protectively over her. Her eyes could still see the faint outline of the Dark Mark glowing on the pale skin of his forearm. And then she closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall asleep also.
*********************
When she awoke, she found herself lying on her left side and staring into the dying flames of the fireplace, and it took a moment for her disoriented mind to remember just exactly where she was. After a few minutes, she shook her head as if to clear away the drowsiness from her head, and pulled the sheets up closer to her neck to warm herself. Then she felt tentatively about her with her arms and legs to check if Snape was still lying in the bed beside her. But she felt only the impersonal coolness of the silk sheets behind her. She lay completely still, and gradually became aware of a low scratching sound. She smiled. He must be at his desk grading papers.
She turned and found that she had guessed correctly. He had dressed himself in his trousers and shirt. Or, at least, she corrected herself, he had thrown the shirt over his shoulders-for he had left it unbuttoned and slightly open as he sat in his chair.
He glanced up as she turned over and nodded.
"Finally. I thought I would have to wake you up soon."
His voice was full of disapproval.
"You have to get out of here and return to your room, you know."
Helena smiled as her unspoken responses ran through her mind.
*** Yes, honey, it was a mind-blowing bit of sex for me, too. Thanks for asking. You are just so affectionately chatty after you’ve had a great fuck with someone, and she’s woken up in your bed, aren’t you? Oh, of course you’re not. You’re Snape, after all. ***
Out loud, she said: "What time is it?"
"About three o’clock," he responded, distractedly. He pushed another piece of parchment off unto another stack, and began reading the one that had been underneath it. After a few moments he sighed, and dipped his quill into the inkwell. With a scowl, he began making slashes, marks and comments all over the paper.
"My, you’re a dedicated teacher, Professor," she commented.
He laughed shortly. "Miss Harrison, at the Staff Meeting tonight-". He stopped and frowned, using his pen to draw a particularly heavy line across something in the paper. "or rather last night, I actually said something to the effect that I regretted giving you, a Ravenclaw, a detention. I rather suspect that if I followed that with a failure to thoroughly belittle each and every one of these insipid papers from my third-year class that my reputation would be damaged beyond repair. At the very least, the Headmaster might be tempted to send me to St. Mungos for a psychological evaluation."
She smiled and settled back down on the pillow. She was lying on her right side now, and she brought her left foot up around the edge of the sheet, yawning and stretching as she watched him finish the papers.
After about ten minutes he came to a sheet that appeared to be the last one in the pile. And it took him very little time to grade this one. She swore that he contented himself with drawing a large ‘X’ through the whole page and writing a big ‘F’ on the top of it.
He brought this last piece of paper over to the stack of graded parchments and shuffled them into a neater pile with his hands and then placed them carefully on top of a grade book. After that, his black eyes flicked back to her face and he looked slightly irritated.
"Is it really so fascinating to watch me grade papers?"
"No," she replied. "But it is fascinating trying to figure out why the hell you’re at Hogwarts to begin with."
"What do you mean?" he asked, stretching his arms out above his head and not appearing to be extremely interested in her answer.
"Well, you certainly show every indication of hating teaching with a passion. I know some people say that you really want to teach ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts’ instead of ‘Potions’, but I don’t think you’d like teaching no matter what the subject was."
He rolled his head tiredly against his shoulders, apparently trying to work out stiffness or kinks. He made no attempt to reply to her.
"So why have you stayed here for so many years? I mean, isn’t there something else you would rather be doing?"
He snorted. "Perhaps you would like me to start drawing pictures as well?"
Again, she refused to take offense at his implied insult. "No, I was thinking more along the lines of working full-time for the Ministry brewing potions. Or working on your own research. Writing your own Potions textbook?"
"Oh, such lofty dreams!" he spat out, contemptuously. He rose from the desk and walked over to the bed. On the way over, he bent down and picked up her robe, stockings and shoes from where he had folded and piled them on the chair. As he walked towards her, she noticed that his feet were still bare.
He threw her pile of clothes on the bottom of the bed.
"Get dressed."
*** Oh, be still my heart. Such gracious protestations of your everlasting devotion. ***
She grinned and threw the covers back. "Are you sure about that this time?" she teased, as she saw him glance down again at her naked body.
He pulled his eyes away and sat tiredly down on the side of the bed. "Unfortunately, Miss Harrison, I, unlike yourself, am no longer a teenager. And as lovely as you are, I confess that I doubt that I am quite up to a third round of copulation in one night."
She slid her bare foot up over his thigh, and then nudged it closer to his crotch. "Oh, I don’t know about that. You could at least try," she suggested.
He grunted and placed a hand, not unkindly, upon her ankle, urging her away from his lap. However, he did not release his hold upon the limb and turned slightly to look down at her again. She could see that his eyes were again focused on the area of her carefully manicured pubic hair.
With a slight smile, he relaxed his grip on her ankle and let his hand travel upwards along her leg and across her groin towards the serpentine figure sculpted from the curly mass. His index finger lightly traced its curves.
"Let’s see: ‘S’ for Severus," he began.
She giggled.
He repeated the motion. "And ‘S’ for Snape."
She closed her eyes and threw her head back as his finger traced over it two more times.
"And, ‘S" for Slytherin, and ‘S’ for Snake?"
"You’re a poet, Professor," she teased.
He let his hand where it was, touching, oh so gently, right above her genitals.
"Perhaps its ‘S’ for secrets?"
She opened her right eye and regarded him with a look of contemptuous disbelief.
"Or…..perhaps ‘S’ for sorting?"
At this, she opened both eyes and raised her head to look at him curiously. "Sorting?"
He nodded and brought his hand over to caress the skin of her right hip, and pushed back further on the bed, leaning over to support himself on his elbow as he watched her face closely.
"Why weren’t you sorted into Slytherin?" he asked.
Helena looked at him with a slight frown upon her face. He hadn’t asked it in a threatening way, but on the other hand there wasn’t a trace of lightness or teasing in his tone, either. He was, for once, asking her a very serious question and looking as though he was hoping that she would answer him honestly.
She looked at him quietly for a moment, and very few people except Snape would have realized how very quickly the wheels behind her eyes were turning. She was no doubt going over several possibilities as to why he asking the question in the first place, debating what information he was most likely searching for, and forming an answer that would be as ambiguous and uninformative as possible, without refusing to answer the question. Or she might decide to make one of her abrupt changes of subject.
Finally, she seemed to come to a decision and pulled herself to a sitting position, bringing her knees up so that she could sit cross-legged at the top of the bed. She also put a hand up to her hair to take out the band that had been holding the hair back in a pony tail, shaking her head to let the long tresses fall down upon her pale shoulders.
*** Quite good delaying and distracting techniques, I’ll grant you. But not quite subtle enough for my taste. ***
"Well," she began, "If you’re asking me what the Sorting Hat said to me, it was that it could not make up its mind whether I belonged in Ravenclaw or Slytherin."
Snape nodded, watching her intently.
"And after about two minutes of listening to it debate with itself, during which time Professor McGonagall seemed to get increasingly perturbed, I finally whispered to it that….."
She hesitated and Snape waited, silently, for her to continue.
"Everything else being equal, I would prefer to be in Ravenclaw." She shrugged.
"Why?"
She smiled. "Because of my mother and her family."
He nodded again. "She was a Ravenclaw, I suppose?"
Actually, Snape knew very well that she was, as Flitwick had stated that quite clearly at the Staff Meeting. He had, in fact, gleaned a great deal of knowledge regarding her parents during and after the meeting. At the moment, however, the dark-haired man apparently did not wish to let her know how much information he already possessed regarding her heritage.
"Oh, not just her, her entire family. Generations after generations of Ettingtons, Partridges, Marvelans and Smythe-Forbushes had been Ravenclaws. Most of them very intelligent and powerful. Like my grandmother."
She paused and grinned at him. "I can hardly believe you have been at Hogwarts this long without at least having run into Constance Smythe-Forbush Ettington. She always makes it to at least one or two of the official functions during the year."
He started. "She’s your grandmother?"
He was indeed familiar with her. A formidable, outspoken and pushy witch who often showed up at sanctioned meetings. The rumor was that she was the next on the list to join the board of governors whenever one of them was considerate enough to either resign or die to make room for her. And, if it didn't happen soon, he wouldn’t have been completely surprised if she decided to assist one of the older members with deciding to choose one of those options.
And, she was rumored to be firmly within the anti-Dumbledore contingent. Perhaps, Snape mused for a moment, the headmaster’s decision to throw his whole-hearted support behind Pomfrey’s proposal might have been influenced at least a tad by the reasoning that perhaps this would put him into better graces with Helena’s formidable ancestor. Albus could be quite the cagey politician when he needed to be.
Her grin had broadened as she watched his reaction to the news. "Yes. She’s a battle-ax, isn’t she?"
He grimaced. "She is….quite a determined and forceful witch," he allowed. And, for a moment, wondered if by any chance Helena would begin to resemble her tall, stout, obnoxious and blunt relative in about forty or fifty years. He doubted it. Helena was barely over five foot tall and seemed quite content to present a smooth, pliable and facile exterior over her feverishly working brain and ulterior motives. Yes, that was definitely the difference between a true Ravenclaw and a true Slytherin.
"Anyway, I thought it was required that I at least try and restore honor to my family’s association with Ravenclaw after my mother’s less than illustrious tenure," she finished.
She reached down and crept towards the end of the bed, ostensibly to retrieve her clothes but also hoping, Snape had no doubt, to distract him from his current line of questioning with another glimpse of her enticingly naked body.
He allowed her to retrieve the pile and begin throwing her robe around her shoulders before further inquiring: "But wasn’t your father upset that you didn’t choose Slytherin?"
She dipped her head to look down and begin fastening the buttons, and the hair that fell over her face insured that he could not look at the expression that had played upon it before she answered, in a very light tone, "Oh, I don’t think so."
She turned and looked at him thoughtfully. "I suppose that wasn’t a problem for you. I have the feeling there’s never been anything else beside Slytherins in your family?"
He tilted his head back for a moment and regarded her silently.
*** My, my, we are trying very hard to change the subject over to me, aren’t we? Very well, I gave you your chance. And you failed it, miserably. But, no need for you to know that just yet. ***
"Oh, yes," he assured gravely. "Nothing but full-blooded Slytherins allowed. I assure you that each and every one of the hundreds of my ancestors who have passed through these walls was sorted quickly and directly into the house of Salazar."
"Hundreds?" she scoffed. She had already put on the garter belt and was beginning to pull up one of her stockings over her delightfully shaped leg.
"At least," he replied, looking down at his own toes while he ignored her continued attempts at distraction.
"Well that explains it," she continued as she began to work on the second leg.
"What?"
She snapped the garter over the edge of the stocking and turned to reply, with a wicked grin on her face as she looked pointedly at his oily locks: "Why there’s so many grease stains on that old hat."
"Bitch!" he murmured, throwing a pillow at her.
She ducked away and laughed, and pulled her knees back up towards her chest as she moved further back on the bed. "Well, I was thinking that if you’re so determined to turn Potions class into a hair salon, that next week we could work on one of the hair conditioning potions that were in Gilderoy Lockhart’s books?", she teased.
He looked at her in disbelief.
"You can not expect me to believe that you were ever silly enough as to develop a crush upon that insipid twit like all the other idiotic teenaged witches?"
"Hmm, not quite. I had always thought he was quite handsome from the pictures on his books. But, as you say, it was fairly hard to retain that romantic illusion once you had been put face to face with his brainless reality. Although….."
"Yes?"
"The thing that really changed my mind about him was your duel," she giggled. "To see that pompous ass fly through the air and hit the wall." She laughed more loudly now. "Everyone else in my class was clambering around him, trying to see if he was okay. And I was just standing there looking at you and thinking….."
Snape raised his eyebrows as he waited for her to continue.
"Doesn’t he ever wash his hair?" she ended teasingly.
Snape threw another pillow at her.
"No, honestly, I started to think that as mean and nasty and arrogant as you were, you were one hell of a powerful wizard," she amended, giving him a light kiss on his large nose.
"Thank you."
She smiled.
***You truly do take the whole comment as a compliment don’t you? Including the parts that most people would be offended by. ***
Yes, that was a rather satisfying night," he allowed. "Not the least because Mr. Malfoy was also able to perform admirably against Mr. Potter, don’t you think?"
She ran her fingers distractedly through her hair. "Umm, I can’t say that I paid much attention to what he was doing," she shrugged, reaching for her shoes.
Snape’s eyes narrowed as he watched her bend down.
*** The hell you didn’t. ***
"So," she continued, throwing her shoes unto the floor and pushing her feet into them. "Shall we start on a hair treatment program in next week’s class?"
"You might find it more useful to work on a brand-new hair-growing potion," he advised.
"Why?" she asked, looking up from where she was finishing putting on her shoes.
"Because, Miss Harrison, that Hair-Removal lotion that you so blithely used today on your private thatch of hair is believed to be quite permanent," he assured her gravely.
She looked up at him, her skin paling as she realized what he was saying.
"But, but-" she stammered. "It can’t be, there must be something-"
She looked back at him and saw that he was no longer able to keep a straight face.
"Oh, you creep!" she yelled, throwing a pillow back at him.
"Turn about is fair play," he replied, pushing himself further up on the bed so that he could lie beside her.
Helena frowned and looked down at the end of the bed and on the floor of the office. "Where’s my bra?"
"Oh, I get to keep that," he assured her with a smile.
She considered that for a moment. "As a trophy, or are you planning on wearing it?"
He snorted. "A trophy, I promise you. I could never hope to fill your "shoes" after all," he added, glancing at her generous bosom.
"But I need it back," she protested.
He looked at her incredulously.
"It used to be just one of my plain ones until I transfigured it," she explained.
"Minerva’s Transfiguration Class must be a great deal more interesting than it was in my day," he commented.
"Oh, I managed it on my own," she laughingly affirmed.
"As, I am sure, you have done many of the things you have without your instructors being aware of it," he noted.
"Well, you should know since-" she turned to look at him. "You read my letters the other day."
He smiled. "But, I was at least considerate enough to put them back in their envelopes out of order so that you would know that I had," he protested.
She nodded. "I did find that rather curious," she admitted.
"So, speaking of your bent towards concealed deviousness, what’s your plan?"
She looked at him blankly for the moment.
"For finding a way to meet with me in secret," he prompted.
"Oh," she shook her head and laughed. "The sleep deprivation is getting to me. Well," she began, pausing to stroke the side of his face with her finger, "as I was saying before some lunatic looked me in the loo-"
He propped his head up on his elbow and smiled at her with elaborately feigned interest.
"We’ve already decided that we don’t dare let you give me another detention."
He nodded.
"Because I certainly don’t want any more marks against my record and people might start wondering why you were all of a sudden paying so much attention to me."
"Yes, we’ve already dismissed that idea," he agreed, in a bored tone.
"And I thought about developing a Portkey so that I could be transported into your room, but that would have some drawbacks-"
"The first one being that there is no way in hell I would allow you to have unlimited access to my rooms!" he snorted.
She looked over at him, a slight expression of hurt upon her face. "You really don’t trust me, do you?"
He laughed and closed his eyes for a moment as he shook his head. Then he reached out his right hand to her.
Reluctantly, and somewhat suspiciously, she put her own hand in his. He looked down and kissed it gently.
"I like you, Helena," he began.
She visibly started. Whether it was due to the statement, the use of her name, or a combination of both of them was hard to say.
He laughed gently. "I do. You are a resourceful, intelligent and powerful witch, an intriguing sparring opponent, and a delightful sex partner."
"Thank you," she laughed. Then she twisted her mouth into a grimace. "But?" she prompted, for he certainly seemed to imply the word.
"But I assure you that I will never, ever be foolish enough to trust you."
She nodded gravely. "Well, that seems to settle that option. Although my main concern was that somehow one of my roommates would find it, and you’d end up with Kathleen appearing beside you in bed one night," she teased.
Snape released her hand and snorted at the image that arose of her hapless roommate's unwitting predicament. "Yes, for at least two good reasons it appears that the Portkey option is definitely not one we are going to pursue."
Helena sighed. "Of course, I can apparate quite well-"
"You have your license?"
"Oh," she looked over at him with her eyes wide. "Are you supposed to have a license for that?"
He snorted. "What makes me think that you’ve been doing it quite well and quite unlicensed for a long time already?"
She shrugged. "But, the commonly-held wisdom is that there are so many protective charms and spells surrounding Hogwarts that apparation unto or within the grounds is impossible." She looked at him with eager interest.
He looked up at her with elaborate innocence. "I know of no way around those impediments."
She frowned at him skeptically. "None that you’re willing to tell me," she retorted, a bit angrily.
He shrugged. "Which leaves us with?"
She bit her lip and the hint of a blush came to her cheeks. "With your helping me with some other magic."
"Like what?"
She released her lip and her fingers fished in her pockets for a moment. When she brought her hand out, she was holding her wand. She glanced over at Snape, and was rather amused to see that he had already brought his wand out and was holding it in a defensive position.
"You know, if you could trust me just a little bit, this would be easier," she complained.
He smiled, but did not bring his wand down.
She sighed. "I swear, the only person I’m going to point this at is me," she promised, as she pushed herself off of the bed.
He looked up at her with a look of puzzlement.
Helena drew in a deep breath and glared at him a moment before continuing. "And you have to promise not to laugh!"
He nodded, still suspicious of her motives and not looking at all inclined to find anything she did remotely amusing.
She pointed the wand at herself.
To his credit, Snape really tried hard to keep his promise. It was no use, however. Within seconds he was laughing a contagious belly laugh that swelled and rumbled and increased steadily in intensity until he was forced to literally hold his aching sides with his hands. No doubt, any of the other occupants of the school, including the headmaster, would have been hard-pressed to believe that the uncontrolled laughter was coming from the habitually stern, haughty and self-controlled Potion’s Master.
But, thought Snape, as he began to wipe away the tears that were spilling out of his eyes and unto his cheeks, he really had never seen anything quite as amusing as the sight of Helena Harrison managing to only partially transfigure herself into an owl.
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Secretly Slytherin