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The Girl Who Stirred the Potion Master’s Cauldron	By : chrmisha Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Het - Male/Female Views: 2334 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or The MIllenium Trillogy and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Girl Who Stirred the Potion Master’s Cauldron
- 1
Summary: What would have happened if the man that Lisbeth Salandar propositioned in “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest” wasn’t a German businessman, but none other than our favorite tortured hero, Severus Snape?

A/N: It occurred to me while I was reading The Millennium Trilogy that Lisbeth Salander and Severus Snape would be perfect for each other—both are extremely intelligent yet socially stunted, self absorbed but not quite selfish, highly self-sufficient and very reluctant to trust others, and both are used to being in control.

Excerpt from “The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest”, pages 527-528, by Stieg Larsson, modified to incorporate Snape instead of the German businessman.

THE GIRL WHO STIRRED THE POTION MASTER'S CAULDRON

Lisbeth Salander went down to the hotel bar to order a cup of black coffee and a bottle of mineral water. She sat there, silent and unnoticed next to a pillar, studying the people in the bar. She saw a couple in their thirties engaged in quiet conversation. The woman was wearing a light-colored summer dress, and the man was holding her hand under the table. Two tables away sat a black family, the man with the beginnings of grey at his temples, the woman wearing a lovely, colorful dress in yellow, black, and red. They had two young children with them. She studied a group of businessmen in white shirts and ties, their jackets hung over the backs of their chairs. They were drinking beer. She saw a group of elderly people, without a doubt American tourists. The men wore baseball caps, polo shifts, and loose-fitting trousers.

Then she saw a man in a dark-colored linen jacket, grey shirt, and dark tie come in from the street and pick up his room key at the front desk before he headed over to the bar and ordered a beer. He sat down nine feet away from her. She gave him an expectant look as he pulled out a small leather notebook and studied the handwritten notes within.

He was a little over six feet tall, about fifty years old (maybe fifty-five), with jet black hair that was turning gray and was a bit on the long side, a large nose, and a bit too thin. But still reasonably well preserved. He paged slowly through the lined sheets of spiky black notes, equations, and diagrams. When he finished his beer and headed for the elevator, Salander got up and followed him.

He pushed the button for the sixth floor. Salander stood next to him and leaned her head against the side of the elevator.

“I’m drunk,” she said.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, really?”

“It’s been one of those weeks. Let me guess. You’re a scientist of some sort, perhaps a chemist or botanist, from Leeds or somewhere in northern England. You’re single, and you aren’t looking to pick anyone up. You’re here to do research, maybe gather some rare plants. And you have to stay here in Gibraltar for another few days. I gathered that much from the order you placed at the bar and that notebook of yours.”

The man looked at her, astonished.

“I’m from Sweden myself. I’m feeling an irresistible urge to have sex with somebody. I don’t care why you’re here and I don’t want your phone number.”

He looked startled.

“I’m in room 711, on the floor above yours. I’m going to go up to my room, take a bath, and get into bed. If you want to keep me company, knock on the door within half an hour. Otherwise I’ll be asleep.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” he said as the elevator stopped.

“No. It’s just that I can’t be bothered to go out to some pick-up bar. Either you knock on my door or you don’t.”

Twenty-five minutes later there was a knock on the door of Salander’s room.

*-*-*

Snape stood on the threshold of room 711, knuckles tingling, intrigued by the strange young woman who’d propositioned him. True, he had not intended to hook up with anyone on this trip, and he still wasn’t sure he was interested, but her observations about him were correct. And being a spy for as long as he had, his curiosity had certainly been piqued.

She had a bath towel around her when she opened the door. “Come in,” she said.

Keeping his face an impassive mask, Snape stepped inside and looked around the room.

“I’m alone here,” she said.

Returning his gaze to her too young face, he asked, “How old are you, actually?”

She reached for her passport on top of a chest of drawers and handed it to him.

He studied the photo of the pale young woman, hair as black as his own. “You look younger.”

“I know,” she said, taking off the bath towel and throwing it onto a chair. She went over to the bed and pulled off the bedspread. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was staring at her tattoos.

“This isn’t a trap. I’m a woman, I’m single, and I’ll be here for a few days. I haven’t had sex for months.”

Snape stared, intrigued, at the lithe young woman. She was rail thin, yet radiated strength. Her blatant disregard for social norms spoke of a self-possession that he’d rarely seen in someone her age. And unlike many her age, he was sure that each and every one of her tattoos told a story. “Why did you choose me?”

“Because you were the only man in the bar who looked as if you were here alone.”

“I could be married—“

“But you’re not. And even if you were, I wouldn’t want to know who she is, or even who you are. And I don’t want to discuss sociology. I want to fuck. Take off your clothes or go back down to your room.”

Snape shifted his weight to lean on his good leg. His left one had ailed him ever since the final battle. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that?”

“Yes. Why not? You’re a grown man—you know what you’re supposed to do.”

Snape gave her an incredulous look and then laughed. Then he took off his trousers and shirt and stood in his boxer shorts.

“Take it all off,” Salander said. “I don’t intend to fuck somebody in his underwear. And you have to use a condom. I know where I’ve been, but I don’t know where you’ve been.”

He took off his shorts and went over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. Salander closed her eyes when he bent down to kiss her. He tasted good. She let him tip her back onto the bed.

“Mind telling me how you knew I was a scientist?” he murmured as he nibbled the soft skin on the side of her neck.

He felt her stiffen beneath him slightly; clearly she wasn’t interested in conversation. He’d have to change that. If he was going to have sex with this woman, he was going to find out something about her first. He slid his fingers expertly down her body, coaxing soft moans from her, leaving her breathless, wanting more.

Relenting, she answered, “Your fingers were stained green, probably from some plant material. And you had diagrams of plants in your notebook.”

“Mmm,” Snape hummed, rewarding her by sliding a finger through along her slick folds, and smiling as she arched into his touch.

“You are very observant,” he muttered into her ear as he took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently. He’d been successfully ignoring the feel of her persistent hands, but as she cupped his balls, he bucked into her touch, garnering an undignified snicker from the damn woman.

“Keep touching me like that,” he growled, “and we won’t make it to penetration. You aren’t the only one who hasn’t had sex in months.”

She purred in delight beneath him, stroking him a few more times for good measure before dropping her hands to her sides. The she slid her palms up her sides and over her rib cage, letting them rest on her breasts.

Snape watched, entranced, as she rolled her nipples into hard peaks between her fingers. She wasn’t what he’d call beautiful, but she oozed sexuality. He bent down a flicked his tongue over the tip of one of her breasts, and then the other. When their eyes met, her gaze was hard, determined.

“Are you going to fuck me anytime soon?”

Snape had half a mind to roll off of her and make her beg for it, though he had a feeling she’d try and pound some sense into him with her fists long before she begged for anything. Instead, he slid two fingers deep inside of her, and said, “Patience, young one.”

He grinned in satisfaction as her pupils dilated and her breath caught with his ministrations. Slowly, he rubbed her nub with his thumb while his fingers drew circles inside of her. He lowered himself on top of her, his chest pressing against her breasts, as he kissed her. She returned his kisses with a fierceness that spurred him on.

When he ended the kiss, she looked aggrieved. He smirked, and raked his eyes over her naked, nubile form. Then, with deliberate slowness, he moved down her body, setting his teeth on her various tattoos, biting just hard enough to make her flinch. Each time she jumped, he increased his administrations with his fingers, distracting her with pleasure as his fingers played her body like a violin. He watched with growing satisfaction as her climax drew nearer, her body growing taut, pleading for release. Then he slid between her legs and took her swollen bud between his teeth, tugging gently as he stroked her insides. In seconds her fingers were threaded in his hair, her hips bucking beneath him. He sucked her clitoris into his mouth, his fingers deep inside her, as wave upon wave of her climax broke over both of them.

When finally she lay, sweaty and disheveled on the mattress, he withdrew. He rocked back on his haunches, and studied his glistening fingers. Then, he slid them, one by one, into his mouth, savoring the tangy, raw taste of her. She watched him like a cat watches a mouse. When he’d had his fill, he drew his fingers through her wetness once more, making her tremble with the aftershocks of pleasure. Then he ran his wet fingers along his erection, gathering the creamy bead that glistened on his tip and mixing it with her juices, lubricating himself with each stroke, his eyes locked with hers.

She watched him with a combination of fascination and wantonness, her expression growing more feral by the second. Snape ignored her as he stroked himself expertly, moaning with his mounting need. In the next instant, she’d wiggled out from under him and thrown him onto his back, pinning him to the mattress with her small hands on his shoulders. Her eyes blazing into his, she uttered, “Condom.”

Snape complied, and then she mounted him in one fluid movement, taking him deep inside of her hot, slick channel. This time the groan that escaped him was entirely beyond his control. She smiled in triumph as he grasped her hips and thrust deep inside of her, relishing the bite of her nails on his overheated flesh. When he’d gone from pleasuring and teasing her to needing her like a man dying of thirst needs water, he didn’t know nor care. The only coherent thought that managed to penetrate through the haze of wanton desire was that he had to take her with him.

“Wait,” he uttered, clutching her over-eager hips to hold her still. He saw her intentions falter for the merest fraction of a second. “Wait,” he repeated, willing his body to be patient as he strove to get his breathing to return to some semblance of normal. Meanwhile, his cock betrayed him by twitching inside of her—once, twice, three times. She smiled with triumph. He clenched his teeth.

Finally, he rolled her onto her back, careful to keep himself inside of her. He slid his hands beneath her and pulled her against him in such a way that each thrust of his would stimulate her clitoris as he entered her. Then he moved—slowly—each stroke a whisper of genius. She tried to quicken his pace, but he merely shook his head, holding her gaze all the while. She squirmed beneath him, in an effort to distract him as much as to break the connection between them, but he held her still, ensnaring her as deeply as she’d unwittingly ensnared him. With each delicious stroke, the proverbial walls between them began to crumble. As he pulled her closer, his hands beneath her buttocks, he rubbed deliberately against her, inside of her, guiding both of them to a higher place. Gradually, she stopped fighting him, slowly giving in to the insistence his eyes held and the ecstasy his body promised.

Grasping at the last strands of his restraint, he held on just long enough to feel the last of her walls crumble alongside his own. Then they were moving together, bodies and souls sliding into one another, seeking both completion and release, tongues fighting for dominance in a kiss that knew no bounds. Snape swallowed her moans as she eagerly met each of his thrusts, every muscle of their bodies taut and yearning. And when she began trembling beneath him, keening with her impending climax, he thrust deeper inside of her, harder and faster, cursing as he cried out his own release, both of them coming together in a flash of brilliant light that pulsed wildly before wrapping them in tendrils of blinding white.

Snape recognized the flashes of light through his closed eye lids, felt the heat of it as it encased them. He felt the pull of possessiveness that accompanied it, knew what it meant. But he didn’t care. He kissed Salander fiercely, plundering her mouth as he plundered her body, as she plundered his, claiming the last bits of her soul along with her pleasure. As the white light seeped into his skin, branding him as surely as it did her, he grasped Salander’s head and crushed her to his chest, protecting her, shielding her. He held her tightly as she began to protest, knowing without a doubt that the worst was yet to come.

“Shhh…” he whispered, rocking her gently as he held her to him with an iron grip. He felt her struggles increase as confusion gave way to panic. “Shhhh… Just hold on…”

In the next instant, her body went rigid and she let out a blood curdling scream. Snape clenched his teeth and held on for dear life. And then it hit him too, the feeling of a thousand knives stabbing him all at once. His muscles clamped down and spasmed violently. He bit his tongue and tasted blood. Unable to hold it in, he cried out in excruciating pain. And then, as quickly as it came, it was over.

His arms shaking, he released her and laid her back on the pillow. He brushed the hair from her sweaty brow and kissed her forehead.

“What the hell…”

Her words, which had started out angry and indignant, trailed off as her face took on an expression of wonder.

“What the hell?” she repeated, her eyes softening.

Snape grinned and shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. Nor could he wrap his mind around the fact that he’d just been permanently bonded to a Muggle. Well, he qualified, she probably wasn’t entirely a Muggle. Surely she had a witch’s or wizard’s blood somewhere in her lineage. There was even the chance she could learn to do magic if she was tutored properly.

Snape reached out and stroked her cheek with a tenderness he hadn’t known he possessed. He said nothing. He knew that anything he told her would only terrify her and likely cause her to flee. She wouldn’t get far, though, before she’d be pulled back to him like a magnet. Neither of them would be able to stay apart now, no matter how hard they tried. The bonding they’d just experienced was an ancient form of magic, beyond anything man or wizard could devise or control. It was extraordinarily rare, something that young girls dreamed of and men dismissed as myth. Yet here it was.

And everything he’d ever heard about it was true—the intense physical connection, the painful linking that dug its talons in like an eagle crushing its prey before flight, followed by the most intense feeling of contentment and peace—and yes, even love. If anyone would have told him that this would happen to him, he would have imagined himself repulsed at the prospect. But as he stared at the young woman before him, naked and glorious and entirely his, all he could feel was a sense of divine rightness.

As she opened her mouth to speak, he shook his head again, placing his lips on hers and kissing her softly. Then he pulled her into his arms, something he suspected neither of them had much experience with. Sex had always been a way to satiate a primal urge; he suspected it had been the same for her. Post-coital cuddling had seemed pointless and superfluous. Yet here they were.

Snape rested his chin atop her mop of black hair and exhaled deeply. He felt her body relax in turn. Bonding was an intense experience that drained one’s energy far more than most forms of magic. Only a deep slumber would be able to restore their strength, solidifying their connection and meshing them together even more firmly, with the result of strengthening their magical cores in the end. That, too, was intriguing, Snape thought, as he drifted with Lisbeth towards the abyss.

“Sleep well, my love,” he whispered, as the regenerative sleep of the newly bonded claimed them both.
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The Girl Who Stirred the Potion Master’s Cauldron