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The Burrow’s upper corridor was dim and narrow, the warped boards creaking underfoot as Snape stalked toward the room he had been told she was using. Laughter drifted up from the garden below, where Order members and Weasleys gathered for dinner after a particularly trying meeting. He ground his teeth as the grating voice of a certain red-headed blighter floated through an open window on the third-floor landing.
He had slipped away as soon as the meeting ended, yet instead of leaving as swiftly as he usually preferred, he had melted into the shadows of a nearby corridor and waited until everyone had ventured outside. When the house was finally clear of busybodies and bumbling fools, he crept up the stairs, guided by the sound of footsteps he had painstakingly memorized over the years of invisible mischief the girl so delighted in.
He found her just as she slipped an overly large jumper down over a thread bare vest. The usual mess of her long dark hair still remained trapped under the collar, though several tendrils had already escaped captivity and were drifting in the breeze from the open window near the camp bed that was obviously hers.
He shut the door behind him with a soft click. Harrie spun at the sound, blinking owlishly at the sight of him- dressed in his usual black robes- in such an incongruous place. He allowed himself the faintest smirk at her shock, his gaze fixed on her like she was the last thing left in the world worth wanting.
Harrie’s surprise soon hardened into indignation and she straightened, bracing herself, most likely, for their usual battle of wills.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
Snape didn’t answer at once. Instead, he advanced slowly, stalking her until the backs of her thighs hit the edge of the unmade bed. The room smelled of lavender and old woodsmoke but as he drew closer, the scent of her strawberry shampoo teased his senses, causing him to inhale deeply. He wanted to draw that scent so deeply into his lungs he would smell it for days. Wanted to lick it from her nape and wrap it around his neck like a yoke.
A memory from last Yule pulled to the front of his mind triggered by the scent swirling around them. Potter on her knees in the dim Potions storeroom. Her green eyes luminous with reluctant desire, her wild black hair spilling through his fists as he wrapped those chaotic strands tight around his aching cock and used them to stroke himself with slow, filthy drags until he came in thick, hot ropes across her beautiful, upturned face. Her little pink tongue darting out, licking what she could from her lips and fingers before scooping the rest greedily into her mouth, swallowing every drop while she looked up at him like she hated how much she wanted it.
His cock stiffened instantly, straining against the wool of his trousers.
“Potter,” he said, voice low and rough as splintered wood, “Still letting that freckled fool paw at you like a schoolboy with his first broom, I see. Tell me, is he good to you?”
Harrie folded her arms, her chin lifting in defiance. “Fred makes me come just fine, thanks. What’s it to you, Snape? Jealous?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw and he stepped closer, crowding her onto the bed where she scrambled to get to her knees, unable, or unwilling to take her eyes off his looming figure.
“Jealous? No. I am on fire, girl. Every night I burn with memories of you- of what I have done to you. Of what I will do when you are mine again. While that oaf fumbles in the dark like a child, I have memorized every nerve in your body. I have catalogued every sigh, every squeal, every broken whimper. I could make you scream my name before you even had a chance to disrobe.”
He watched in rapture as a blush stole across her freckled cheeks and her tiny hands curled into fists at her sides. He welcomed her anger and desire like old friends. They seemed to come hand in hand during their interactions. Had done since those disastrous Occlumency lessons when he began to catch glimpses of her memories where her fingers were buried in her cunt and his name was slipping between her lips.
Snape’s mouth curved into a hungry smile, and he bent forward over the bed, placing his hands on either side of her hips.
“Is he capable of even a fraction of the skill I possess?” he murmured into her ear. “Can he make that sweet little cunt weep for him the way it’s already weeping for me?”
Harrie shoved at his chest, with no real effort; but he stayed firm, crawling over top of her and forcing her even further onto the bed, trapping her slight frame beneath him.
“You’re delusional” she hissed. “Get out before I scream.”
“You won’t scream,” he murmured, leaning in until his breath ghosted over the hair curling under her ear. “Not yet. Not until I make you. I’ve attempted to be patient. To allow you to make your own foolish mistakes. But my patience has worn thin.”
In one motion he had her wrists pinned above her head, his body crushing hers into the thin mattress. “You are mine.”
He ground his hips forward. The thick, heavy length of him pressed against her belly, the friction sending sparks of pleasure to the base of his spine causing him to groan.
Harrie’s breath stuttered. He was extremely well endowed, something that used to intimidate her but as she became more experienced, caused a fire to light in her eyes that looked more like the thrill of a challenge conquered.
“Feel that?” he hissed against her ear, his voice like silk over steel. “That is what you do to me. Every time you walk into a room. Every fucking night I stroke myself raw thinking of this mouth, this body, this tight little hole that Weasley thinks belongs to him. I have ached for you until I thought I would die of it.”
He could feel her heart slamming against her ribs, even through the thick wool of his frock coat and he began to celebrate his easy victory. Cooing into her hair with mock sympathy he traced the delicate whorl of her ear with the tip of his tongue.
“It’s alright to give in Potter. There’s no shame in desiring more. No shame in craving something more than what's been given to you.”
He reared back and met her eyes, relishing in the glazed look of lust he found there, and the heated flush still painted beautifully on the crest of her cheeks.
At his mocking grin her lips parted, and an adorable growl tumbled into the air between them. Before he could react, she spat in his face and attempted to buck him off her.
Snape’s smile turned razor sharp and dangerous, as he wiped the spit from his cheek with his thumb. Then he shoved that same thumb between her lips, forcing her to taste her own pathetic pretense of defiance.
“Open your legs.”
“Make me.”
Oh, how he would relish this.
He shoved a knee brutally between her thighs and pried them open wide enough to enable one of his large hands to yank her shorts and knickers down with a single violent tug. The other shoved two long fingers straight into her burning core without warning. He was smugly satisfied to find her wet, traitorously, shamefully wet, and the sloppy sound of it filled the room as he curled them hard against her front wall.
Harrie gasped, her hips jerking into and away from his hand in a confused dance of want and obstinance. “Fuck- you-” she began, but his mouth crashed down on hers, cutting off any foolish attempt at a lie, before it could drip from her poisoned tongue. His lips were brutal as he reclaimed her mouth for himself. His teeth and tongue and years of obsession poured into one burning kiss.
“So wet for me, Potter. And it's all for me.” He dragged his fingers out from her burning core, the digits slick and shining, and smeared them across her lips. “Taste how much you want me.”
She tried to bite him, but he pulled his fingers back and tisked at the poor attempt. He laughed with the exhilaration of having her under him once more. Every time with her was like taming a lion. One wrong move and he would be devoured. But every slash from her sharp little claws, made the victory that much sweeter. He used her momentary distraction at the rare sight of his laughter to spin her around, bending her at the waist and holding her down by the nape of her neck so she was presented beautifully before him. He petted her flanks with one hand while he bent to whisper in her ear “you’re so very beautiful when you submit to me. Go ahead, Potter. I know you must be aching. It's been so very long hasn't it. Let me take care of you. I'll make it better. Only I can cool your desire; the way you long for in the dead of night when you're lying next to him.”
It wasn't long before he felt her limbs go lax and her breathing began to pick up into a steady pant. Her hips had begun to shift in minute twitches, seeking friction against her neglected, dripping core.
Snape moved to kneel between her legs. He slowly pulled down the zip of his trousers, drawing out her anticipation before allowing his cock to spring free and slap heavily against her arse. His cock was leaking, his desire to be buried inside her welcoming heat was so great, and he couldn't help the moan that escaped him at the vision of the purple head nestled lovingly into her glistening folds. The tip kissing her lips as if welcoming home a lost love.
He stroked himself with a lubricated fist, smearing his precum around her folds, mingling their fluids the way they were always meant to be.
“Get on with it would you, bloody wanker.”
Her snarl broke him from his reverie and made him grin in delight. Smoothing his hand up her back in a slow, soothing sweep, he suddenly fisted her hair in an iron grip and wrenched her head back until her spine arched.
He leaned over her until his lips rested on her cheek where he nipped at the delicate skin with blunt teeth.
“Beg me.”
“Fuck you.”
He chucked darkly and pushed his hips forward so that the tip of his cock nudged against her swollen clit. Her hips pushed back against him, greedy and wanting, but still she remained silent. So he pulled back and ever so slowly, began to run his length along her clit. Not fast enough to build any real heat for her, but enough to take the edge of his burning need to plunge himself as deep into her tight heat as he could go.
He watched with cruel satisfaction as her face got more and more red and as her breathing became unsteady and every exhale became a whine of frustration.
“Snape- fuck- just- just come on-”
“You know what I want to hear, Potter. Beg me to fuck you and I will give you everything you desire.”
She held out only a few minutes longer, humping herself back onto his cock with increasing desperation until finally she snapped.
“Please- please, Snape. I can't. Need it- need it in me so bad,” she moaned.
Snape grinned in triumph. “Anything for you.”
He drove in to the hilt in one savage thrust.
Harrie screamed into the mattress- pain and pleasure ripping through her in equal measure. He was enormous, stretching her open better than Fred could ever have hoped to. He didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her like a man who had waited a lifetime to be inside her tight, gripping heat, even though it had only been a few months since she had broken it off between them.
Each thrust punched the air from her lungs. The wet slap of skin on skin, the obscene squelch of her cunt taking him, the creak of the old bed- it was filthy, loud and dangerous. Anyone could walk up the stairs. Just the thought of Fred walking in and seeing Snape reaming her cunt so amazingly, had her moaning into the blankets like a whore.
Snape was in heaven. Being inside of Potter again was a bliss so profound it was nearly agony. Pleasure poured down his spine like a river of fire and every gasp or muffled scream that fell from her perfect lips sent him deeper into a frenzy of lust.
“He’s never made you feel this good, has he?” he snarled, one hand fisted in her messy black hair, yanking her head back so he could bite the side of her neck. “Say it.”
“Fuck- no- never- harder, you bastard- please”
He gave her harder. One hand left her hip to reach around and slap her clit- a sharp, stinging, blow that made her sob with pleasure so sharp her thighs shook with it. He did it again, and again, until slick was dripping down her legs, her mouth lolled open in a continuous silent scream and drool pooled under her cheek.
“Curse you, Potter,” he snarled against her neck, teeth sinking in again hard enough to bruise. “I have been burning alive, and all for you. But no longer. This cunt is mine and mine alone. Say it.”
“Yours- yours Snape. Oh god-”
Snape felt her fluttering around him and groaned. The sound was wrenched from the depths of his soul where every ounce of his feelings for this holy temptress of a girl lay in wait. Ready to be called upon, the moment she deigned to grace him with her attention. He hated her and he loved her. With every ounce of his being. As much as she was his, he was hers.
He slammed in again, grinding deep enough to bruise and she shattered, clenching around him so violently his vision whited out. She sobbed his name- Severus- half a curse and half a benediction, giving him no choice but to follow her into orgasm. He buried himself to the hilt and flooded her with pulse after pulse of hot seed, his hips jerking helplessly as the obsession that had eaten him alive finally found release.
For a long moment the only sound was their ragged breathing.
Careful to remain inside her, he leaned down to whisper against her sweat-damp hair.
“Tell him whatever lies you need to. But the next time you spread your legs, it will be for me. Because I can take you higher than he ever dreamed. And I will burn the world down before I let anyone else touch what’s mine.”
He pulled out slowly, watching his spend leak from her swollen, abused cunt with dark, possessive satisfaction. Then he tucked himself away, straightened his robes, and left her bent over the bed, trembling, leaking, already aching for the next time he would corner her in the dark and set her on fire all over again.