Chapter Text
Darkness.
Thick, deep, oily darkness, the kind the eye could not pierce, clinging to the walls, pooling on the floor, lapping at her feet. Chill air wrapped around her bare legs, the usual cold of the dungeons a sharp contrast to the summer heat outside the castle.
Harrie took another step into Snape's office, her gaze sweeping her surroundings. She almost didn't recognize the place. Plunged in shadows as it was, she could admittedly see very little of it. She spied the beginning of a shelf on her right, the glint of a jar filled with a murky green substance, while on her left there was the vague outline of a small desk and a chair, upon which she had spent so many detentions. The rest of the office was all shadows.
"Snape?" she called out.
There was no answer. Yet he had to be in here. He had been released from the infirmary yesterday, and had gone straight to his office. He hadn't been seen at dinner since, nor at lunch today. McGonagall had expressed her worries, and Harrie had volunteered to check up on him.
"Yes, I think it would be best if it was you, Harrie," the older witch had said. "He seems to tolerate your presence better than anyone else's."
Harrie wasn't sure about that. Yes, he had let her sit at his bedside while he was recovering from Nagini biting half his throat off, but he had still snapped and growled at her, in pure Snape fashion. Perhaps she'd gotten a little less dark glares than his other visitors. That didn't mean he would be happy to see her right now.
Where was he, anyway? And why was it so dark in here?
She was getting her wand out when she realized that in the shadows, something was breathing.
It was a kind of hoarse, raspy breathing, sounding not quite human. Had a beast somehow managed to get into Snape's office? Or was it... was it him? Was there a problem with his throat, had his wounds reopened?
"Snape?"
Still no answer. She cast a non-verbal Lumos. It barely did anything. The shadows shifted and rippled, creeping back only a few inches. Magical darkness, then. That explained why it seemed to ebb and flow, roiling like it was liquid. Did it come from Snape? But for what purpose?
She took another step forward, her wand held high. Sudden movement, on her right. Something that crawled. Or slithered. Definitely moved in a way that no human would. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline blooming, and she trained the tip of her wand roughly where the movement had been.
"Snape?" she said for the third time.
"Leave."
She startled at the sound. The voice was Snape's, but... there was something seriously wrong with it. The word had been all garbled, rough, as if coming from a different set of lungs altogether, or maybe forced out through a ruined throat.
"Are you in pain?" she said, lifting her wand higher, trying to see.
Something shifted in the shadows again. A growl rolled through the air, deep and rumbling, a predatory sound that made the fine hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Eyes, gleaming and yellow, stared back from within the darkness.
Her heart kicked up a notch. What was going on with him?
"Leave, now."
"What happens if I don't?"
A raspy exhale came from the shadows, which flickered and seemed to thicken. It sent a shiver skittering down her spine.
"You will regret it, Potter."
A compelling argument. Especially delivered in that voice, all growl and gravel. But Harrie was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindor didn't back down in the face of danger. They stood their ground. And Harrie, because she was Harrie, did more than that.
"You need help," she said, taking a step toward him.
Her Lumos waned, the light reduced to a mere whisper. The shadows grew, spilling over her feet.
"You don't want to provide the kind of help I need," he said, his yellow eyes now trained on her.
She huffed in annoyance. Hadn't she already proven she cared about him? She had saved his life in the Shack, had remained at his side in the infirmary, had threatened the Aurors who had come to try and interrogate him.
"Yeah, I do. I know some healing spells, too. So, tell me. What's wrong?"
The eyes closed, briefly. The shadows churned, as the temperature dropped sharply, ice coating her skin.
"You have no idea..." came the answer, each word a rough-hewn cousin of what they should have been.
"Tell me."
"Leave!"
The command reverberated around the room, until she couldn't tell where it was coming from. The eyes had disappeared, the shadows writhing, pooling thicker and thicker onto the floor, threatening to overwhelm her. More of Snape's tricks. He was controlling the cloying darkness infecting the room, and he clearly wasn't well.
"I'm not leaving."
She fed more power into her Lumos, intent on seeing him. Something whipped out from the mass of shadows, wrapped around her wrist. A tentacle, black, warm and wet against her skin. It yanked her forward, while at her back the door slammed close, trapping her into the room. With him.
Her wand was torn out of her hand, her meager light snuffed out. Now in complete darkness, Harrie was blind. There was that sound again, a whistle through the air, and what she had to assume was a second tentacle curled around her other wrist, squeezing tight. She bucked. It had no effect. Then she was being hoisted up in the air, her feet leaving the ground, and was promptly pinned to the wall, her back meeting the cold stone with a thud.
When she kicked, additional tentacles restrained her legs, binding around her ankles and immobilizing them. She let out a small groan, slightly dazed by the speed at which everything had happened. Her feet were back on the floor, but most of her weight was supported by the tentacles around her wrists, which had shoved her arms up until her shoulders nearly hurt, her body strained and trembling. She felt like a butterfly in the collection of some sadistic wizard.
The shadows receded, coalescing at the center of the room, and Harrie realized the lights were actually on. A faint yellow coming from twin sconces near the door, enough to see him.
Snape, pulling the oily darkness back into him, the substance warping and shifting like a living armor, melting into his robes.
Snape, his face gaunt and so pale, his eyes yellow, lips curled back to display fangs.
Snape, and his tentacles, multiple ones, protruding from his back and swaying around him, black and slickly wet, rippling under the low light like moving ink.
"You should have run," he said in a low, low growl that belonged in the jaws of some bestial monster.
Something in Harrie's chest seized. Her lungs inflated with a gasping breath as a dizzying rush of primal fear swept over her.
"What are you?" she asked in a whisper.
He stepped closer, the tentacles at his back undulating in an hypnotic pattern, while the four ones which kept her pinned to the wall, clearly the main ones as they were longer and thicker, coiled tighter around her limbs, the appendages shifting closer, slipping like a caress over the skin of her wrists and ankles.
"Nagini's venom," he rasped, as his yellow gaze seemed to take her in. "It awakened a latent magical inheritance. I fought it while I was in the infirmary. Last night, I gave in."
As he talked, his tentacles kept slithering, curving and pulsating, slowly creeping up her legs, inching toward her knees. They were slick and hot, and smooth, like a tongue gliding on her bare skin. She struggled to think through the odd sensation. Magical inheritances were rare, and mostly manifested when the wizard or witch reached puberty, or sometimes after they had suffered a great shock. Almost dying to Nagini would certainly qualify.
Harrie knew of a few creatures. Veelas were one kind, mermaids another. She had heard about a boy from Durmstrang who turned out to be a dragon and had grown actual wings. But this... the black tentacles, the yellow eyes, the fangs... some monster with a territorial drive, too, that, combined with Snape's natural prickliness, resulted in her ending up pinned to the wall.
"What kind of creature?"
"A hydra," Snape said—no, hissed, in Parseltongue, and Harrie jerked, both from the surprise and because hearing Snape speak in Parseltongue had knocked a bolt of arousal straight into the pit of her belly.
"Fuck," she hissed back.
His yellow eyes narrowed, his lips curling back further, revealing more of his fangs. Gone were the blunt human teeth. His mouth was full of razor-sharp canines, dripping with some kind of venom.
"Now you understand, Potter..."
He took another step, and he was looming so close, his chest nearly brushing hers. He was still wearing his usual robes, the tentacles blending in with the black fabric, and while the effect was threatening and made Harrie's blood race in her veins, it also scorched a path of heat between her legs.
"I—" she started, only to stop when the tentacles inched further up, past her knees, under her skirt, and reached her inner thighs.
"Or perhaps not," Snape said, tipping a finger under her chin. "Do I need to make it clearer?"
He dipped his head, his nose brushing her jaw.
"I could smell it on you the moment you entered... Your innocence..."
"There's no way you can smell that," she said, her breath hitching.
The tip of a tentacle teased the skin of her thigh, creeping ever closer to her knickers. The tentacles around her arms looped down toward her shoulders, slipping under her blouse.
"A pretty little virgin walking into my lair, and I'm so very hungry..."
The tentacle between her legs suddenly swiped across her clothed cunt, in one rough, electrifying slide.
"Oh, God," Harrie whined, her hips twitching forward, a gush of arousal dripping down into her knickers.
Snape let out a noise between a growl and a groan. Additional tentacles shot forward, swarming over her body, slipping under her clothes, roaming wet and warm, squeezing, kneading. They slid over her hip bones, curled around her breasts, gliding across every inch of her, like living snakes eager to discover and map out her entire body. She keened softly, her hips twitching again as her core pulsed with heat.
"I had a dream like this once," she said, a prickling shudder rolling down from the top of her head to her toes.
Snape leaned back to study her, his yellow eyes unblinking, the black pupils like twin pinpricks of shadows among a bloom of feral color.
"You had a dream with tentacles?" he said, in a highly skeptical tone.
The thick tentacle between her thighs applied pressure to her cunt, slow, purposeful, while the others kept sliding wetly everywhere, caressing her thoroughly.
"Not exactly, but you were on me, smothering me under your robes, and I was swamped in dark fabric. And then you slid your cock inside me."
His left eyebrow rose, as if he was surprised by her admission. The mannerism was so him, so Snape, that she almost smiled. The situation was by no means normal, but compared to what she had feared—Snape bleeding out again, Snape eaten by some kind of monster—it was fine. Okay, she hadn't expected tentacles. She hadn't expected Snape would ever be interested in her either. She could deal with the tentacles if that meant she was getting him.
"You want my cock?" he said, emphasizing the last word with a squeeze of every tentacle that made her arch and groan.
"I thought you had noticed," she huffed back. "I tried not to let my eyes wander, but, uh..."
He chuckled, the sound darker and deeper than what she was used to.
"Does the little virgin harbor some filthy fantasies? Oh, Potter. Don't worry. I'll give you everything you dreamed of."
The tip of his tentacle slipped into her knickers, rubbing against the slickness of her cunt.
"And more," he purred, as he yanked off her knickers, tearing them to shreds.
Harrie choked on her own saliva when the tentacle stroked between her legs, back and forth along her slit, applying delicious, nerve-wracking pressure. The smooth texture made for an easy glide, and it was so warm, and so thick. It teased her clit on each stroke, stimulating her better than any fingers could, providing such delicious friction she found herself immediately and helplessly aroused.
She couldn't help the little squeals that got past her lips either, nor the breathy, wanton gasps. If she hadn't straight up told Snape she wanted his cock, he would have guessed it from those noises alone, dripping with desire and need. Her clit throbbed as the tentacle kept passing over it, jolting her nerve endings with heat.
And then the tentacle shifted, and the tip prodded at her entrance. Went in.
"Oh fuck," she whined, half in Parseltongue.
There was a growing stretch as the tentacle pushed inside her untried cunt. A burn, an ache, a feeling of fullness that was so satisfying, exactly what she needed. It didn't feel like a cock would. It was thicker, and as it moved inside her, it writhed, undulating, rubbing her walls, inching deeper and deeper.
Harrie's breathing became a strangled, keening whine. She squirmed and strained, but the tentacles holding her only tightened. The ones around her wrists wrenched her arms higher, while the ones wrapped around her legs spread them wider, tilting her pelvis a bit, and then her skirt was gone, yanked off, and Snape could see it all. His gaze burned between her thighs, watching with rapt attention as his tentacle invaded her cunt, fucking her at a lazy rhythm.
"How does it feel, Potter? Tell me."
"Full," she gasped, her toes curling as the tentacle pushed in again, not leaving one inch of her empty. "So... full..."
"From one tentacle? Hardly."
Oh God, what? He wanted to put more in her? It was already so much, one thick, girthy tentacle pumping into her cunt. She could feel every twitch of it, every coil, every drag and push, the raw, merciless stimulation of her walls. Could feel it move inside her, suddenly pressing against a particular spot that exploded with sensations. Her breath stalled, her hips bucking forward, a strangled cry escaping her.
"Ah! G-aah..."
Bolts of pleasure electrified her body, again and again, with every rub and press of the tentacle into that wonderful, exquisite spot. It felt like lightning, like Snape had found the center of pleasure in her system and was mercilessly abusing it in the best way possible. She was convinced it couldn't get any better, when a second tentacle slithered up and came to rub at her clit, hard and fast.
Her orgasm was wrenched from her, more than lightning, more than pleasure, a thing of brutal, absolute bliss. Wracked by convulsions, she howled. Long and loud, the sort of scream that made it sound like she was in pain, when nothing could have been further from the truth.
It was pure ecstasy.
And it wasn't stopping.
The tentacle inside her pulsed, grinding against that sensitive spot so exquisitely, sending more quakes of pleasure through her body, while the other one kept rubbing at her clit, which jolted her with shards of white-hot heat. She was vaguely aware more tentacles were caressing her breasts, pinching and tweaking her nipples, adding another layer of stimulation.
Her keening turned to wet, gurgling noises, until she thrashed through one last jerking contraction, and slumped forward. She was held aloft by the tentacles now, her feet off the ground, completely suspended in Snape's embrace. His intense gaze seemed luminous, the yellow turned scalding, and his mouth was curved in a smile that flirted with something vicious.
"Count," he said.
"Wh... what?"
Oh God, her voice. It was nothing more than a raspy, pitiful stream of air.
"Your orgasms, Potter," Snape said. "Count them."
"Oh... one."
His tentacles had slowed down their motions, the big one lazily pumping into her while the slimmer one between her legs idly strummed at her clit. Fresh arousal bloomed, her cunt twinging needily. She looked down, at the tentacle splitting her cunt open, how thick it was, how so much of it was inside her, how her legs were spread wide, everything on display for Snape to enjoy.
"Like what you see?" she managed to say, not quite landing the challenging tone she was aiming for.
He emitted a sort of pleased rumble.
"Are you sure it's wise to taunt me, Potter?"
"Why would I want to be wise?"
"Because, currently, you're entirely at my mercy," he said, his tentacles sliding under her breasts, giving them a hard squeeze.
"Yeah," she agreed, the word mingling with a moan. "So go on. I'm ready for Orgasm number two."
The tentacle in her cunt picked up speed, from a languid pace to something faster, a steady fucking. She felt another tentacle slip between her arsecheeks, and groaned as the slim tip of it prodded at her other hole.
"Oh yes," Snape said. "I'm afraid you have no idea what 'full' means, Potter. But don't worry, we'll soon remedy that."
Blunt pressure against her anus, spreading some slimy substance there, perhaps a lubricant that came with the tentacles, or from a spell Snape had cast, she wasn't sure. The tentacle wiggled, pressed in, slowly intruding into her arse. Her eyes went wide at the novel sensation, an undignified squeal slipping from her tongue, followed by a series of panting huffs. How was it even going to fit?
"I will fill all your holes," Snape promised in a dark purr.
She writhed and bucked, getting filled in both arse and cunt, impaled on two thick tentacles. The one in her arse kept pushing in, and it made the pressure in her cunt skyrocket, heat scattering along her nerves, her eyes rolling back, her lungs working hard to suck in desperately needed air.
"So sweet and tight," Snape said, settling one hand over her throat, his eyes sweeping down and back up again, alight with a sinful glint. "You're clenching very nicely around my tentacles..."
"Uh..."
That was about all she could say. Her body trembled, on the verge of her second orgasm, so soon. The tentacles fucked her cunt and her arse, working in tandem, their pace synchronized as they pistoned in and out of her holes, and she couldn't hold onto a single thought. The sounds she was making were obscene, squeaked-out mewls and breathy, wrecked little whines, noises she had never imagined she could produce.
Her orgasm was torn out of her, ripping through her belly, her cunt contracting hard around the tentacle, flexing and flexing, releasing a gush of slick that wet the insides of her thighs. It was a quick climax, soon followed by another one, deeper, longer, and now her arse was spasming too, as if her entire body was determined to grip at Snape's tentacles and encourage them to stay deep inside her.
"Two, three," she slurred once she got enough breath back that she could speak.
Snape leered, his hand caressing her throat, his tentacles pumping away, writhing over her body, trapping her, caging her, filling her. God, she felt so impossibly full. Taken, conquered, consumed by a pleasure so acute it was making her scream and sob, overloading her nerves. The room resonated with squelching noises, lewd and wet, as the tentacles fucked into her in quick, short strokes, their rhythm unrelenting.
It was as if she'd been waiting for this all this time. Waiting for Snape to fuck her full of his tentacles, to own her and thrust her into such abysses of pleasure no one would ever compare.
Another orgasm washed over her, her spine bending, her cunt spasming and spasming around the tentacle, her arse clenching, everything glowing molten hot, her body out of control. Her vision went white, her over-sensitive nerves teased into a frenzy. Her breathing was a reedy, hiccuping thing, her heart beating harder than ever, and his tentacles were rippling inside her, throbbing hot and thick, coiling so deep.
Time blurred.
She came again, jerking, twitching, all but vibrating from the force of the pleasure, and then again, or perhaps that was the second part of the same orgasm, she really couldn't tell. All her brain cells were busy screaming sogoosogoodsogood, and she couldn't spare a single one to determine exactly what was happening.
As the pleasure ebbed, she realized Snape had inserted a second tentacle inside her cunt, stuffing her so full it didn't seem possible all of that fit in her body.
"Ah, ah," she panted, wide eyes set on the mess between her legs, looking down at her thighs shiny with fluids and the two thick tentacles disappearing inside her.
"Count," Snape reminded her.
"Ah, f-four? Five? I don't... don't know... oh!"
"That would be six," Snape said as she keened low in her throat, another climax ripping through her.
He caught her chin between slim fingers, his thumb tapping against her lower lip. She was drooling, and some of her saliva got on his fingers, but he didn't seem to care.
"So noisy, Potter. Let's see if we can do something about your mouth, shall we?"
A tentacle rose in front of her face, the quivering tip of it angling itself down slowly, and Harrie thought oh fuck, and then oh God oh yes, as the tentacle shoved its way into her mouth. It crept in, pulsing, sliding wetly along her tongue and then further down, making her gag when it reached her throat. It blocked her airway for a few seconds, retreated enough to let her breathe, set a fast pace, straining her jaw, leaking a salty liquid onto her tongue. She moaned, her lips clamping down around the tentacle, eagerly accepting the new sensation.
There were four tentacles pumping into her, now, one in arse, two in her cunt, one in her mouth. She couldn't even fathom the sight it must have been, her trembling body crammed full of writhing tentacles, every hole plugged. She could actually see her lower stomach bulging as the tentacles made room for themselves inside her.
And Snape watched her, an inhuman grin on his lips, lust burning in those yellow eyes.
"Isn't this better?" he crooned. "Look at you, Potter... taking my tentacles in every greedy hole. Fuck, yes, suck on it..."
Her tongue worked, her lips clinging to the wet surface of the appendage in her mouth, sucking hard. The thrusts turned sharp, tentacles moving to an unforgiving rhythm, the room echoing with wet noises. Harrie gagged again when the tip of the tentacle pushed past her throat, mimicking a good, thorough face-fucking, as if Snape was thrusting his cock so far down her throat she could only groan and splutter around it. At the same time, the two tentacles using her cunt coiled and pressed, mercilessly grinding against that extraordinary spot at the front of her walls, and she was launched into yet another orgasm.
Her body squeezed and spasmed, her lungs denied of air, euphoria blasting every neuron. Her heart was jack-hammering in her chest as she seized from near-continuous electric jolts, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but submit. It was so good, too good, nothing but an inferno of pleasure and the overstimulation of so many tentacles inside her body.
Her throat was unblocked, and she took a breath through her nose, her lungs inflating sweetly. Tears blurring her vision, she threw her head back, emitting pathetic whimpers and garbled noises muffled by the length of the tentacle in her mouth.
Then the tentacle pushed deep, gagging her once more, and it began all over again, the sharp peak to climax, the absence of air, the wracking shudders.
It was maddening, and it was bliss.
There were more orgasms. She lost count. She was only a jerking body, split open more than she ever thought possible, coming more times than what should be sane, tightening repeatedly around the tentacles that were fucking her. Snape was talking, the rumble of his voice washing over her, the meaning of his words lost to her.
Eventually, she floated to a place of dazed, heady warmth, a place of slow, heavy pleasure, where everything was honey-smooth and silky darkness.
Her head lolled back. Her mouth was... empty? She ran her tongue over her teeth. Her jaw was so sore. Her entire fucking body was so sore. She hung limply in the tentacles' hold, trembling from fine tremors. There was an odd, rhythmic noise, a low raspy, wheezing. She realized she was the one making that sound.
The tentacles retreated, leaving her cunt and her arse. Slick dripped from her holes, and her intimate flesh felt swollen and tender, abused raw.
A large hand cradled the back of her head. A warm palm met her cheek, caressing.
"Are you still with me, Potter?"
Her eyes fluttered open. She focused her sight on Snape, who loomed dark and smiling over her. Her throat worked as she swallowed, the motion burning.
"I don't know... the number," she said.
He smirked, his hand drifting down to her throat and giving it a light squeeze.
"You're ready for my cock now," he said, and the word 'cock' jolted heat into her abdomen, even after so many orgasms.
She looked down, expectantly. He undid his belt, then the numerous buttons he had there, and finally his erection sprang free. A weak whimper left her throat. He wrapped long fingers around his cock, stroked himself, his thumb passing over the fat head, spreading pre-cum around.
"It's not... normal," she said, through numb lips.
"It did increase in size with the inheritance. You'll take it anyway."
Her cunt clenched, rabidly. She wanted it all inside her, need blazing through her blood.
"Yes," she hissed, slipping into Parseltongue. "Give it to me."
He turned her around, pressing her into the wall. The tentacles that were writhing around her body drew back, until there remained only the ones around her wrists and ankles, positioning her the way Snape wanted her, arms above her head, legs almost together. He kneaded her arse, his breath heavy near her ear, then his hands gripped her hips as he teased her soaked folds with the head of his cock. She keened, high and reedy, her rump twitching back into him.
He licked her ear, his hot tongue following the delicate shell.
"Hydras mate for life. Do you understand what that means?"
"Uh..."
"It means I'm going to breed you."
"Oh," she said, one shocked little noise.
Breed her. It meant—it meant—he could get her pregnant. Her head spun. She took a slow, dragging breath, couldn't her grinding her arse back against that thick cock.
"You want it, don't you, Potter? You want me to breed that pretty little cunt. Want me to fuck you full of my seed..."
She wanted it so much. His seed, inside her. And she wanted to belong, and she belonged with Snape. There was no doubt about that.
"I want it," she said. "Yes. Fuck, yes."
He growled, his tongue flicking down to her neck, laving at her skin.
"I'm going to flood that pretty little cunt with all the cum it can take, and then I'm going to give you more."
His hands clenched at her hips, the tip of his cock pushing at her entrance. He cleaved her cunt open in one sharp thrust, slamming in with a ragged groan, followed by a hiss of triumph. She whined, the pleasure sending her mind reeling. This was even better than the tentacles. It felt wonderful, having him sheathed inside her, her inner walls snug against him, the base of his cock throbbing as he was sunk to the root in her cunt. His body was pressed flush against hers, hot skin against hot skin, his powerful thighs tense, his chest touching every inch of her back, his mouth sucking at her throat.
"Mmmm. What a delightfully tight little cunt you have, Potter. It was made to be fucked by my cock."
He bit lightly at her throat, pulling another whine from her.
"Tell me... how long have you dreamed of this?"
"I wanted the Half-Blood Prince first," she said, a tight shudder coursing through her frame. "Used to masturbate picturing all kinds of scenarios with him... and then when you told me it was you... I started imagining us together, hating myself because I thought you were a traitor."
"And after? During those weeks I spent in the infirmary... did you masturbate every night to the thought of my cock inside you? Did you fuck your fingers, crying out my name?"
"So many times."
He groaned, like her admission was the hottest thing she could have said. She licked her lips.
"Did you wank off thinking of me?" she whispered. "Did you imagine me straddling you in that hospital bed, riding you hard until you came deep inside me?"
"Countless times, Potter. And if I had known it was everything you wanted, I would have grabbed you from that chair, would have bent you over my bed, and would have fucked you right there, in plain view of anyone who might have come in."
"Fuck..."
"Oh, yes. Fuck."
He glided out of her until only the very tip of his cock remained inside her channel, and drove back in, forcing her cunt to accommodate his size. Did it again. And again. She gasped and panted as he delivered violent, ramming strokes, the filthy wet slap of his hips against her backside accompanying her little wanton noises. It was exactly the kind of brutal fucking she had imagined, the ruthless pounding her body craved.
Despite her exhaustion, she found the strength to welcome and encourage him, arching back into him, asking for more, for his seed, for his perfect cock deeper inside her.
"What a slick, hungry cunt you have, Potter. It's sucking me in, desperate for my seed."
She responded with a needy moan. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, his heavy sac slapping against her slick slit with every frantic thrust. She tried to follow his pace, but he wouldn't let her move much, keeping her pinned to the wall with his tentacles, his hands firm around her hips. It was a rough rutting, and as he moved inside her, she felt like a mare getting bred by a stallion, taken and owned.
"Yes," she groaned, ecstasy surging with each powerful thrust. "Yes, Snape, oh fuck, don't stop—"
He gave a deep growl, and a vicious thrust, his teeth sinking into her shoulder, piercing her skin. She barely registered the pain.
"Mine," he declared.
He hilted himself deep into her clenching sheath, the flared head of his cock bumping her cervix, the burst of sensation tearing a sob from her. He was close, she could feel it. Soon, he would erupt inside her and flood her with cum. Oh, how she wanted it...
"Going to spill inside you," he groaned. "Ah... Are you ready for it? Ready to take all my cum?"
She moaned, a delirious, tortured sound.
"It will drip down your thighs, Potter... but first... you'll feel it in your womb..."
Her orgasm struck at those words, a wave of rapturous sensations igniting her entire body, flashing over her skin. Her breath was gone, so the only sound she made was a tiny little squeal, and then nothing at all as her body quaked, her cunt clutching in strong spasms around Snape's cock.
She felt him shudder, felt his hands squeeze her hips so hard she knew she would have bruises, and he powered inside her, using his strength to slam her onto his thick shaft, once, twice, a third time, hard and rough. The head of his cock pressed against her cervix, and he came there, burying a gruff noise into her shoulder as he spilled hot and slick, pumping his load inside her.
He held still for a few seconds, waited for his cock to stop throbbing, then he gave several more thrusts, fucking his cum into her channel, groaning and panting. His hard shaft slid through the sticky mess with obscene noises, and Harrie mewled, her cunt twitching weakly, her toes curling. He stopped when his cock finally softened, but remained seated deep inside her.
"Good girl... you took it all."
She couldn't reply. Couldn't speak yet. Wasn't sure her brain was working, actually.
Snape mouthed at her shoulder, sucking on the tender spot that bore the marks of his teeth. His hands caressed her, slipping up and down her sides, in gentle movements. Slowly, he lowered her to the floor, gathering her in his lap. His tentacles covered her, creeping warmly over her sweaty skin, forming a tight embrace that was so intensely comforting. She leaned into him, rested her head back against his chest.
After a few minutes spent like that, recovering from her first sexual experience (with tentacles in every hole and possibly the biggest cock known to mankind, yeah, she didn't do things halfway), she found her voice.
"What happens now?"
He placed a large, warm hand over her belly.
"We do this together," he said, his thumb stroking her skin.
"We should start thinking about names."
He chuckled, exhaling a hot puff of air.
"You're taking this remarkably well. I'm a monster, Potter. I've possibly just impregnated you. And you want to think about names?"
"Yeah. See, I'm an optimist. I wasn't planning on getting fucked when I walked in here, but we'll figure it out."
"You are absurd," he said, but then he kissed the bite mark on her shoulder, so tenderly her heart thrilled at the gesture.
She turned to look at him, surveying his face. From up close, she could see the usual Snape, the cold, dark pupils, the harsh lines of his face, the hooked nose, the inky hair, and she could also see the new Snape, the ring of luminous yellow around the pupils, the fangs in his mouth, the pale, pale face.
"The yellow eyes are going to take some getting used to," she said.
"My eyes? That's your main concern? Not my tentacles?"
"Your tentacles I'm already in love with."
He laughed, a deep, rough sound that made her smile. She was thinking about kissing him when there was a knock on the door.
"Harrie? Severus? Is everything alright?"
It was McGonagall. Harrie considered her question. She was in Snape's lap, half-naked, full of his cum, and his tentacles were swarming all over her.
"Yes, we're fine!" she replied. "Everything is very alright."
There was a pause, as if McGonagall was doubting her words.
"I expect we will see you both at dinner, then?" she said
"We'll be there," Snape replied. "Perhaps we'll run a little late. Potter and I need to talk some more."
"Oh yes," Harrie agreed. "Talk."
She kissed him, eagerly, and he kissed her back and carried her to his bed, where they continued their conversation.
They ended up very late for dinner.