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Seed	By : hefox Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12033 -:- 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
- 1-Part two
- 2-Part three: A kitty named Snape
- 1
- 2
Title: Seed
Warning: Noncon, pregnacy
Disclaimer: Don't own them.

Part two
Pain. Harry awoke with that word echoing in his head and pain echoing in his body. He'd had the strangest dream, he told himself. Dream and reality tended to confuse themselves before he'd finally mastered Occlumecy after two years trying. He looked forward to nightly disparaging from Snape on rough weeks.

Harry pushed the thoughts away. His mind was skittish from something, avoiding it. He opened his eyes to whatever fearsome site he'd behold.

He'd step out of the mad scientist movie and into a fifty-cent Romance novel. Snowy white lace canopied around him and the circular bed and twelve variously shaped pillows he lay on. Red, silk sheets glimmered from candles hanging from black wire holders invisible against the dungeon-black wallpaper.

Intent on exploring, he tried scrambling out of the sheets. He tried first a simple push up, but his arms lacked the usual muscle that'd allow for a graceful exit. Then he used his legs to stand, but they wanted to instead fall him head first onto the sheets, and that they did. Two things he noticed during his fall. One, that his skin not only lacked any hit of scarring but also seemed quite a bit more delicate than before, and two, he had breasts.

He was a she.

'Well, of course I am. Now what are you doing in my body?' The thought came clearly from himself, in a tone and essence so him, it could be no other but for the feminine undertone in it.

'Sorry for intruding, but who are you?' He constructed the thought and sent it to the she him.

'Emma James Potter, who are you?'

'Harry James Potter.'

Emma's 'I don't have a brother!' overpowered Harry's 'I don't have a sister.' Emma shrieked in the way girls could only get away from. They felt the dull ache that heralded a pounding headache. They cradled their head in their hands. Harry sighed.

'Did Voldemort kill your parents, Lilly and James Potter?' Harry inquired.

'Yes,' Sadness bogged down her thought-voice down. 'Mum and dad gave her life to save me. All I got was a scar and a irksome title of the "Girl who lived"'

'We're not siblings. We're each other.' Emma brooded over the statement. 'Want to go exploring?'

'Sure.' She bounced of the bed. Her limbs danced across the room with an innate grace.

------

Snape scowled. His Thirty-seven year-old body towered over his scowl's victims: the innocent floor tiles. He felt his face relax into its closest friend. Years before the face had known such acquaintances as the gleeful smile, the perfidy grin, the shamed pout, and even the rare smile of happiness. They'd moved out without even leaving a calling card for the scowl. He needed more room, more presence to guard Snape and keep bubblehead first years in line. If Senior Snape met his son right here, right now, he'd glow with pride at the mirror in front of him. Senior Snape would never do that thought. His and his hated wife hanged preserved Voldemort's Dungeon. Last year Snape'd visited them. Their Everlasting clothing polled at their toes. The dark caverns where eyes had been yanked out stared out from their withered corpses. Mum's favorite plum hat perched on her remaining blonde hair. Dad's mouth hung open. He'd begged for mercy after Snape's last crucio. Their necks bent at 90-degree angles; the hanging had killed them. That was the cost of betraying Voldemort. A third rope waited for Snape. Maybe today was the day he'd join his family and quite this silly game. His Death Mark throbbed from Voldemort's fervid call an hour earlier.

"Come." Snape turned. An unknown Death eater beckoned him forward. He — for by the build and stance it couldn't be anything else — reached a foot below Snape in height. His width made up could pass for any Napoleon Complex he might have ever had. He might be the mythical Hercules. His muscles bulged and fought against the restraining robe.

Snape's scowl deepened; his blood quickened, his senses sharpened with the first tangs of nervousness. Despite his brooding and gothic looks, he wasn't much into the suicide and death thing anymore; in his young years of Hogwarts he'd exulted death. He was too the coward to take his own life so he took others. Now. He knew death. He'd seen the dieing pleas of too many, wizard and muggle, not to appreciate life.

He followed the Death Eater, for certain death lay in refusal.

The over-steroid man led them through countless hallways, corners, and to a door like every other door he'd seen to night.

"A present. Have her. Go home when done," the man said. He left.

A present? This was most peculiar. He was called out the middle of the night for a present? His sleep interrupted for a frolic with some muggle girl? Or was this one more of this loyalty tests Voldemort so loved?

The first year Gryffindors were due to lose some points tomorrow anyhow. He pulled the door open, expecting to see his "present" chained to the wall. He hadn't expected the "present" to literally fall into his lap.

"Listening to the door, girl? Get on the bed." The naked girl craned her neck to look up; she was shorter than most third years. Pure witch green eyes stared at him with eyes wide enough for the whites to circle them. Water polled at the ducts; she might cry. She didn't.

Her figure was slimmed and muscled. Not overbearing like his Death Eater guide or the current Witch Wrestling Champ. She had an almost boyish air with her small breasts and hips. Tangled brown hair hid her womanhood. The top part she'd shave to display the outline of a lion. It was her other hair that offset the boyish image. It cascaded down to tickle her perfectly round, squeezable buttocks. The room's candles hinted at punk green highlights in that thick mane of chocolate hair. Not too bad for a defiant girl.

"Are you deaf or just dumb, girl?"

"I must be dumb, sir, since I'm not deaf." She stalked over to a gaudy affair of lace and silk that was supposedly a bed. If he looked close, he'd not find even a hint of the tears. Instead she employed those into glaring at him. Her hands seemed fragile and useless before; she clenched them into a fist. She only loosened them when a drop of blood disappeared into the sheets.

"Lay down." She sprawled onto the bed. She lazily stretched her arms out. Her back arched with a purr of content. New, unbroken, poor girl.

Snape retrieved a bottle of lotion from the bedside cabinet. Most Death Eaters rapped their victims dry. Snape had never done that, even in his darkest days. It'd been a game then, to steal his victim's hate and love without an ounce of magic. That was then, before Albus Dumbledore stole Snape from right under Voldemort's fangs. He'd allowed his present victim's compassion by not allowing them enjoyment.

He unbuckled his pants and lathered his shaft in the lotion. It smelt like strawberries. He had a strawberry smelling cock. He shook away his amusement. Neither the time nor the place for that. The girl looked half asleep on the bed. A slit of green peeked from lowered eyelashes. The eyelashes fanned in such a way they imprisoned her eyes.

Snape took her. It wasn't rough, it wasn't delicate, it just was. She bled. She was a virgin. There was no need to think about the general mechanics of it. Step 1, Insert tab A into slot B. Step 2, repeat step 1. Step 3, Repeat step 2. He needed the pain that flashed across her face, nor the blood that covered his strawberry scented cock. He needed note any of that. Withdrawing, he left her and the room.

The Gryffindor first years defiantly needed some reprimanding.

--

It hurt.

The silk sheets clung to his sweating body. Only the sheets told him he was still on that gaudy bed. His eyes saw only red. Sliver, Steel, Steve, Salvister, and Sins were back, crawling over his, her body, tying him down. Emma was screaming inside him. He might have also been outside. Something punched against his expanding belly. Something grew inside of him. Something tore his insides out with bellows of pain.

It started hours ago as pangs. He hadn’t noticed it over Emma trying to console him over the rape, 'Snape had to do it, and you know it, if your Snape is anything like mine. Serves you right for getting caught.' Then she fell silent. He leant to the side and puked air.

The thing kicked against again. His back arched into the mattress to escape the thing.

His water broke.

"Pussssh," hissed the straps. "Pusssh" He pushed. He wanted the monster out. He pushed again. He felt it rip it's way down. It's head emerged. He pushed again. Someone patted his belly and said "Good, my boy, good, such a delight." He pushed again. It came out. The arms left his belly and scoped the thing up. A minute later a dreatful yell filled the room. "Delightful, just delightful," the doctor cackled. He set the thing into Harry's arms. Its eyes opened. Two familiar green eyes looked into him.

'Aw, such a cute kid. Congratulations.'
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Seed