It was a rare treat to wake up to an empty dorm. All the other boys had gone home for Christmas but as usual the Dursleys didn't want the freak home to mar their celebrations. Even if Harry had gone back to Privet Drive, he knew it wouldn't have been a celebration for him: he'd be the cook and the house-elf and he'd be lucky if they gave him a slice of mouldy bread, never mind anything remotely resembling a Christmas dinner. Harry sighed and tried to banish the memory of his so-called family from his mind.
Instead of worrying over the things he might be missing out on; he should be revelling in the luxury of having the entire room to himself. And it was a luxury, privacy was so rare to find at school. Harry grinned as he kicked the covers off and stretched languidly like a cat in warm sunshine. His toes curled on the sheets and he arched his arms high above his head, reaching for the headboard and gripping the slats in white-knuckled fists. His morning erection twitched, already realising what Harry gripping those slats meant: Harry was ready to play.
Harry cast a spell to rid himself of his t-shirt and boxers, leaving him entirely naked on his bed. His belly jolted at the thought of what he was going to do today. It wasn't something he could indulge in very often and not something he'd be able to do at Privet Drive either, not unless he wanted the Ministry after him again for performing underage magic.
Harry let go of the slats to search through his warded drawer for everything he would need: the silk scarves; the lubricant; and the enchanted egg-shaped toy that just looking at had his arse and cock both twitching with want. He moaned, long and loud, relishing the fact that he could make noise today and not try to hide what he was doing. Harry had tried using a vibrator before; but none of the ones he'd tried were as thick as he wanted. They tended to be long rather than wide, but as soon as he'd seen the egg-shaped toy, he knew that was the one.
Harry dipped his fingers in the apple-scented lubricant and stretched himself manually first, although he could have used a spell instead. It was an awkward angle for his arm but Harry persevered until he was sure he was stretched and wet enough. Once that was done, he lay back down and said the spell which used the silk scarves to tie his hands to the headboard slats. His cock jerked and spat precome over his belly, making Harry hiss with need.
He lifted his arse, his knees spread wide, and his feet flat on the sheet as he issued the spell commands for the enchanted toy. "Start."
Even the noise, the buzz as the toy started up had Harry groaning in anticipation. It had been so long since he'd been filled like this and he needed it; needed it like water for a thirsty man. The toy lifted and aimed unerringly for Harry's arse, teasing around the pucker just the way Harry liked it before the narrow end started pushing in. Harry gasped as the toy gradually got wider and wider; the burning stretch so welcome that Harry bucked and almost dislodged his toy. With his hands bound, Harry couldn't touch his cock like this, but the fact that he was indeed bound, made it all the more exciting. What would be even more exciting was having someone here to share this fantasy with. Harry shook his head; he knew it wasn't just someone he wanted. He had a specific someone in mind and it was the dream of him that had caused Harry's morning erection today.
Harry wasn't entirely sure when he'd started thinking of the Potions master in any other capacity than as his teacher; but the dreams had been his constant companions for a few months now. Not to mention the waking fantasies. Severus Snape could make eating porridge sexy; the way his elegant hands sprinkled on one spoonful of brown sugar every morning, no more no less. The way he licked the final remnants from his spoon before usually sending a glare in Harry's direction at being stared at. Harry flushed with just the remembrance of that glare.
He closed his eyes to better realise the fantasy. Harry wasn't tied to the bed by silk scarves; his arms were pinned above his head by long-fingered, potion stained hands. It wasn't a toy that was angling over his prostate on every third thrust; it was Snape's thick cock. "Yes! Yes!" Harry moaned, his head thrashing from side to side on the pillow his arms trying to desperately (but not too desperately) to escape their bonds. "Fuck me, sir! Fuck me!"
The toy took him at his word; pulling almost completely out and then ramming straight back in.
Harry shrieked in ecstasy, his balls drawing up. "Ohhhh! OHHHHH! FUCK!" Harry wailed as he shattered like an ice-sculpture, spilling white hot heat over his groin and chest. Harry squeezed his thighs together, his buttocks clenching around the toy as he wrung every last drop of pleasure from his body. His legs collapsed onto the bed, the toy slipping out and if Harry thought the thing could have an expression, he thought it looked rather smug. Harry giggled; well it had a right to look smug after that.
Harry's whole body was trembling with aftershocks; God that was fantastic! So much better than his usual quick wank in the showers or the toilets between classes. He cast the release spell on the scarves and dipped his fingers in the pool of drying semen on his chest on belly. The room smelled of sweat and sex and as Harry swirled his fingers around his skin, his cock stiffened again. Harry suckled on his fingers, loving the bitter, salty tang of himself. He'd heard some of the others joke that you could make your come taste sweeter if you drank lots of fruit juice. Harry didn't know if that was true or not, but maybe he'd try it. He'd try anything once.
As he continued sucking on his fingers, his cock was standing to attention. Harry grinned, knowing he had no one to please but himself today. He gripped his shaft in his hand. "If you must," he addressed his recovering cock.
As in the past Christmases Harry had stayed at Hogwarts; Professor Dumbledore had banished the house tables and the teachers' table. Instead a large circular table that could seat twenty was sitting in the middle of the Great Hall. The table was draped with a white linen tablecloth and had a centrepiece of red poinsettias in the middle. All the plates were white china with golden trim; the goblets were crystal with gold around the rims; all the cutlery and flatware was gold today as well rather than the more usual silver that was used during the school year.
Twelve large Christmas trees stood on the dais where the teachers usually sat; all of them decorated with swathes of gold and silver tinsel, glass baubles etched with gold winter scenes hung on some branches, candles on others, and the scent of pine hanging heavily in the air. Harry smiled as he caught sight of them, so different to his Aunt Petunia's tawdry plastic affair with gaudy decorations.
"Harry my boy!" Dumbledore greeted him and stood up, pulling out the chair beside his own. Since no other chair around the table was free, Harry had no choice but to accept the space. He nodded politely to Dumbledore, but inside he was seething. Dumbledore had denied his request to go and stay at the Burrow over Christmas; alleging that it was still too dangerous despite Voldemort having met his demise and Harry having met his destiny in effecting that demise over two months ago now. The arguments that there could still be rogue Death Eaters out to get Harry got wearing after a while. Was he supposed to be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life? Was he to remain a prisoner of Hogwarts as much as Snape was?
Thinking of the man, Harry scanned the faces at the table but Professor Snape was nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, didn't think he'd ever seen Snape at any of the Yule celebrations at Hogwarts in all the years he'd been there.
"Is Professor Snape not well?" Harry asked, noting some surprise from the other few students who'd remained as well as from the staff. Despite them having worked together to defeat Voldemort; it still surprised people that they'd stopped being so antagonistic towards each other, but Harry knew Severus Snape didn't regard Harry as anything other than a comrade-in-arms and perhaps a friend. It was only Harry who seemed to want something more from their relationship.
"Professor Snape is fine, Harry. He just doesn't like to celebrate the holidays."
Dumbledore poured out two glass of pumpkin juice, one for himself and one for Harry. He sipped at his goblet before replying, as if he was avoiding the question. "Best to leave it at that, Harry. Professor Snape is a very private man."
It was a warning to back off and leave well enough alone, but that only made Harry even more curious.
He should have remembered what had happened to the cat.
Harry crept through the silent corridors his invisibility cloak draping his form, although he wondered if he'd be given detention if he was caught wandering during the hols anyway. It wasn't as if school was in session. He knew the way to the Potions office by heart, having spent so much time in there trying and failing miserably to master Occlumency and his feet took him there almost by their own accord. What he'd do if Snape wasn't actually in the office at this time of night, Harry didn't dwell on. Severus Snape was an insomniac and a workaholic; he'd be in his office, even at Christmas.
It was the first year Harry had got his professor a gift, it wasn't something extravagant, he knew Snape wouldn't be impressed with how expensive something was; his out of date robes and tattered books were testament to the fact. Harry knocked on the door and was unsurprised when it opened by itself.
Snape was at his desk, a mountain of scrolls on one side of it, bottles of ink and a few quills on the other.
"Potter. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be gorging yourself on chocolate frogs or something?"
"I brought you a present," Harry said as he removed his cloak and offered up the wrapped package.
"Tell the headmaster that if he wants to bring gifts, he should deliver them himself and not send his errand-boy."
The words stung Harry much more than he was expecting. "It's not - he isn't - the present is from me." Harry sat the parcel down on top of the parchments.
"You got me a present? Why?" Snape sounded suspicious. Had he never received a present before?
"I wanted to. And I wanted to ask you something."
"Ah. A trade. Very Slytherin of you, Mr. Potter. So what did you want to ask me?"
"How come you don't celebrate any of the Yule holidays?"
Snape's face paled even more than normal. "That was low, even for you, Potter. Who put you up to this? Who told you?" Snape was so angry that spittle was flying from his mouth and his face was almost purple with rage.
"It wasn't a prank. I was just curious," Harry admitted in a small voice. Why could this man reduce him to a scared, trembling first year?
"Curious, are you?" Snape snarled as he wound his way around the desk and grabbed hold of Harry's robe. "If you're so curious, why don't you go ahead and look! Contralegilimens!"
Harry was not prepared for the onslaught of the spell, nor of the memories it revealed. His mind was filled, invaded with Snape's memories of his time at school; the desperation, the yearning to belong and in the end, one of the ultimate betrayals.
In his mind, Harry saw a younger version of Severus Snape walking along a deserted corridor dressed in Slytherin robes and uniform. He looked to be around sixteen or seventeen, although even at that age, Snape was quite tall. The hallways decorated with holly, ivy and tinsel, so Harry knew the memory he was watching indeed took place over the yuletide holidays. Snape glanced at a parchment in his hand and searched out a particular doorway. Scanning the hallway to make sure no one was watching, Snape pushed the door ajar and stepped inside the room.
The room was completely dark, there wasn't any light anywhere and Harry felt disorientated even in his mind; he couldn't tell which way was up, never mind anything else.
"Remus?" Snape whispered and Harry knew he should have been feeling more surprise at the revelation, but he didn't.
There was a bright flash of spell-light and Snape's wand flew out of his hand from the silent Expelliarmus spell.
"Not so brave now, are you Snivellus?" snarled Sirius from the darkness. Harry felt the breath leave his body as he heard his dead godfather's voice for the first time in years and heard such vitriol in it.
A lantern flared to life on the wall and Harry could see his father and Peter Pettigrew swarming around the now unarmed Snape. "We want you to stay away from Remus," said James, his gaze raking up and down Snape's body with such an air of disdain that Harry felt himself wanting to slap it from his face.
"It's none of your business!" Snape snapped, trying to push past Sirius. Peter and Sirius grabbed his arms and twisted them around his back.
"No you don't, Snivellus. You're going to be taught a lesson. It's time you learned that we don't take kindly to Slytherin scum like you messing our friend about. What Dark magic did you use on him, eh? Remus wouldn't look twice at you otherwise! You're nothing but a disgusting freak!"
Snape didn't reply; he struggled against his captors, his face red with the effort.
"Is it because you're a good fuck?" James asked, trailing his fingers along Snape's chest. He twisted Snape's nipples and smirked when the pain brought tears to the other boy's eyes. "Is that it? Do you spread your legs for him like a good little whore?"
"Get your fucking hands off me!" Snape roared, kicking and struggling, but he couldn't escape. Harry didn't want to watch but he couldn't escape the memory. He watched in horror as they used spells on Snape to undress him before pushing him down on the floor; Sirius and Peter holding him down while his father raped him.
When it finished, Harry sank to the ground, dry retching as he realised now why Snape had seemed to hate him so much when Harry had never even known the man before that. Of course Snape had hated him, had hated that face. The face of his rapist. Oh, God, his own father was a rapist!
James Potter had raped Snape, while Sirius and Pettigrew had held him down.
"Oh, God! I'm so sorry!" Harry managed to gasp out through his tears.
"If you breathe one word of this to anyone, Potter. Just one word..."
"I won't! Of course I won't!" And it wasn't for the reasons Snape probably thought. Harry wasn't doing it to protect the memory of his father; he was doing it to respect Snape's privacy. "If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, please, just let me know."
Snape gaped at him. "You think anything can make up for what they did to me? For the pain, the humiliation I endured at their hands?"
"No, of course it won't," Harry said softly. "But I will do anything to make it up to you, sir. Punish me. Punish me like you couldn't punish him."
"But, Harry, it's a Hogsmeade weekend!" Ron whined. "Can't you skip detention just this once?"
"No, Ron. I have detention every Saturday, I told you. It's not much of a detention if I sneak off to Hogsmeade, is it?"
"But what have you got detention for? You haven't been in trouble and your marks have been really good this year," Hermione persisted.
"It doesn't matter what the detention is for, it's just important that I have to do it," said Harry. He couldn't explain it to them; he wasn't going to violate Snape's privacy like the time he'd looked into his pensieve.
"You started doing these detentions after the Christmas break," Hermione continued; obviously she wasn't going to give in that easily. "That's it, isn't it? Something happened over the holidays. What did you do, Harry?"
It hurt that her first assumption was that Harry had done something wrong, but he decided to ignore it. If she thought Harry was getting detention for something he'd done that he wasn't supposed to have done, maybe then both of them would stop pestering him. "Look, I did something; can we just leave it at that? It's personal."
"Personal?" Ron hissed. "You're spending every weekend with the greasy git, how more personal can it get? Why can't you tell us?"
Why couldn't the two of them leave him alone? "I can't tell you. It's as personal as the time I looked into Snape's memories in the pensieve and I am not going to say any more about it, okay?"
"I can't believe you, Harry!" Hermione gave him a light cuff round the ear. "How could you violate his privacy like that again? Well, I'm glad he wasn't so lenient with you this time! Yes, you should be in detention and not gallivanting round Hogsmeade!"
It was such a relief when they left and Harry could finally go and get his punishment.
"Strip." The words were the same at the start of every detention and they never failed to make Harry hard. He wasn't as shy as he had been on the first few detentions, but he still flushed when he got down as far as his boxers and he saw that today Snape was looking at him - looking at his groin, when Snape had never shown any interest in his groin before. Before, it had been about punishing Harry, humiliating him by having Harry kneel naked on the floor for three hours. Snape had never done anything else, but Harry knew that today was going to be different.
His eyes were drawn to the cane sitting on Snape's desk; that hadn't been there before either.
"Why do you keep coming back, Potter? Surely you don't enjoy these interludes, do you?"
Harry stepped out of his underwear and sank to his knees, lowering his head. Surely Snape could see from his erection that he did indeed these sessions, even if Snape never touched him. Harry liked knowing that Snape was in control of him. Snape could order him to do anything and Harry would do it, no questions asked. He craved mastery; he craved being mastered by Snape.
"Do you think these detentions have been due recompense?" Snape asked, tilting Harry's chin up. Harry's breath became ragged at the touch. Snape touched him! He'd actually touched him!
"No, sir but then you'd know what would be best."
"And you're willing to do what I think is best, are you, Potter?"
"Yes, sir. Anything you want."
"You should realise that bargaining with a Slytherin has its own risks. Have you ever been caned before, boy?"
Harry shook his head, his muscles clenching with just the imagined pain.
"In this room, I am the master. You will not go running telling tales to your friends or to Dumbledore what I do to you. You have given me permission to do as I want with you, isn't that right?"
"You have one chance to leave here and never come back. That chance is now. Stay here and you become mine. What is your decision?"
"I want to stay, Master." It was the first time Harry had used the word 'Master' and Snape hissed on hearing it. Oh, he liked that, Harry could tell. "I want to be yours, Master." Harry hung his head, exposing his neck.
"You would look good in a collar and a leash, but I have something else in mind for you today. Stand up."
Harry's heart stuttered as he obeyed the command; his legs feeling watery. Snape had never looked at him with this intensity before and Harry was even more conscious of his nakedness and his vulnerability when Snape pointed his wand at Harry and hissed a spell.
Harry gasped as he felt the constriction around his cock: a pair of white lacy knickers that were so tight he thought they might cut off his circulation. Snape kept speaking the same spell over and over again and Harry realised it was a dressing spell. His legs were covered in thigh high white stockings with lace-edged hold-ups; a plain white blouse tied above his waist so that his midriff was bare; a loosely knotted Slytherin tie hanging to mid-chest and finally a pleated grey skirt that barely covered his groin. Harry knew why Snape was dressing him in a skirt; Snape wanted to humiliate him, like James Potter and his friends had humiliated him all those years ago, but there was a slight problem with that scenario. Harry wasn't humiliated; he was dreadfully, painfully aroused and his erection was making the pleats of the skirt bulge out at the front.
"That skirt is not regulation length, Mr. Potter," Snape said, his eyes glittering as his gaze swept over Harry's girl-clad form. "Do you know what the punishment is for flouting the rules?"
"No, sir," Harry replied, his head down once again, afraid that if he saw Snape's intent gaze on him any longer he would come in the lacy knickers; feeling it oozing through the material to stain his skirt. "Oh fuck!" Harry moaned and clamped his hand to his cock, averting disaster just in time.
"Did you come?" Snape asked huskily, his own stance suspiciously wide, as if perhaps he was aroused too.
"Good boy, but that still doesn't get you out of your punishment. Bend over the desk."
Harry did as he was bid, feeling the skirt riding up his back as he bent over; giving Snape a view of his lacy arse. Even though Harry couldn't see him; he could feel the stare Snape was giving him and he shifted restlessly, his hips couldn't keep still. In the corner of his eye he caught sight of Snape's elegant hand lifting up the cane.
"Six of the best for starters, Mr. Potter. You will call out every number and afterwards you will thank me for administering your punishment. And Mr. Potter, if you come all over my desk you will regret it. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Harry agreed readily, wondering how he was going to stop himself from coming when even just the thought of that cane landing on his arse was making his balls feel so full and heavy already.
Snape didn't ask him if he was ready; the only warning was the whistle of the cane through the air as it came down and landed hard on Harry's backside. "O-one!" he yelped, the pain a lot harsher than he had anticipated. His arse was on fire even before Snape landed the next blow, thankfully on another part of his buttocks. "T-t-two!" The lacy knickers were no protection at all, but at least the pain was distracting him somewhat from his arousal. "Th-three!" Harry gasped, his knuckles grabbing the other edge of the desk; his breathing harsh and ragged. He screamed at four and by five he'd realised that the pulses of pain in his arse were making his cock pulse very pleasantly as well; every dart of pain was one of pleasure too. He began to rock his hips, rubbing his cock against the desk and by the time he heard the whistle for the sixth blow, he was arching up on tip-toes to meet it, anticipating it.
"Don't you dare come!" Snape warned as the cane came down for the sixth and final blow.
"Six! Six!" Harry hissed, stopping his impending orgasm only by thinking of Filch and his damn cat. That would put anyone off.
"Lift your hips," Snape commanded.
Harry did so, his legs still feeling rubbery. Snape's hand snaked under the hem of his skirt and felt his cock; still hard but leaking copious amounts of precome into the lace and onto Snape's hand. Harry had never felt so aroused in his life; the stings on his arse making everything seem so much more intense.
"That's what you come here for, is it?" Snape asked, fondling Harry's cock through the lace. "I know what you need, Potter. I know what you want. You want a good fucking, that's right, isn't it? You want my cock so far up your arse you'll feel in it in your throat. You want to be fucked so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week. That's what you want, isn't it?" Snape squeezed his cock again. "Well, Potter. I want to hear you beg for it. Beg for it like the little slut you are."
"Yes, please! Oh, sir! Fuck me, sir! Please!" Harry's buttocks clenched at just the imagining of it; how much better would the real thing be?
Snape smirked at him. "Did you forget, Potter? These detentions are supposed to be about punishing you, not giving in to your schoolboy fantasies. However, it just so happens that I would like nothing better to be buried balls-deep inside you. Spread your legs."
Harry did so, feeling so exposed, so wanton and Merlin, how he loved it! Snape tore the lacy fabric from him and Harry groaned at being controlled by someone so masterful. There was a whispered spell and a squat, cut-glass jar landed on the desk by Harry's head, filled to the brim with a clear gel. When Snape pushed two fingers into the jar and swirled them around; Harry thought for sure he was going to come but he managed to stave it off once more.
"Has anyone ever fucked you before, Potter?" Snape asked as he spread Harry's cheeks open with one hand and with the other pushed in a lubricated finger.
"No, sir. Ah!" The gel was cold and the intrusion was rather unexpected; Harry normally took longer to prepare himself if he was using toys. "But I've - um -"
"Out with it, Potter. I've got my fingers up your arse; don't play the shy virgin now!"
That fact that Harry was a virgin seemed to be beside the point. "I've used toys though," Harry admitted, feeling his face heat.
"Good," Snape said as he added another finger. "I want someone who likes to be fucked, who wants to be filled."
"Yes," Harry whispered. It was a yearning he'd always had, even when he'd been too young to know what it was that he wanted. Sweat was dripping down his face to land on the desk; Harry leaned his forehead against it; the wood cooling his heated skin somewhat. By the time Snape had three fingers embedded in his arse, Harry wasn't even sure if he could remember his own name, never mind anything else. He was wriggling and writhing and spouting nonsense that all amounted to much the same thing, more and please and now!
"Such an eager little slut, aren't you?" Snape hissed close to his ear. When he removed his fingers, Harry wailed at the loss, but he wasn't disappointed for long. A few moments later, his arse was being pierced by something a lot thicker than fingers and thicker than any of Harry's toys. He gasped through it; his cock wilting at the initial pain, his eyes watering.
Snape was taking his time, easing him into it. "Bear down around me. Good boy, you're doing well."
Harry grabbed hold of the desk again, gasping when Snape was fully seated and his thighs were pressing against the welts on Harry's arse. "Hurts," Harry whimpered.
"I know. It gets better. Fist your cock, get hard for me and the pain will ease."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry and did just that, sliding his hand between his body and the desk. Snape didn't move until Harry's cock was hard once more; he waited until Harry was arching backwards, trying to impale himself on Snape's cock. "Please, sir! Pleeeease!"
"Does it excite you, Potter? Being filled to the hilt with cock? Who would have thought the Boy Who Lived would be such a cock-hungry slut? What would your friends think if they could see you now? Begging for it like a Knockturn Alley whore." As Snape spoke, his thrusts became quicker and more erratic and Harry realised that his professor must have been near orgasm already. Harry was excited, but he was nowhere ready to come yet and he wanted to come while Snape was inside him. "Master, may I come?" Harry asked; squeezing his cock.
"You may," Snape agreed and Harry lost no time in trying to get there before Snape did. There was no rhythm, no finesse, as there wasn't much room to stroke his cock on the table with his hand. In the end, Harry just put both hands on the desk and rutted against it, his cock sliding against the wood, the precome making it slick enough to slide on.
Snape was pounding into him from behind and the desk legs were scraping across the floor due to their exertions.
"My own little fuck-toy," Snape said; the words a hoarse whisper. The words and the voice sent Harry over the edge and he spurted, hot and wet all over the desk; his whole body clenching with the ecstasy of it. Snape held his hips while Harry rode out his climax and a few aftershocks, before Snape pulled out completely.
"Kneel down," Snape commanded. Harry turned, his legs turning to rubber once more. He knelt, but it was ungainly, more like a fall to his knees than a proper kneel. Risking a glance up, he saw that Snape was still fully dressed, his erect cock sticking out from the flies of his trousers. As Harry's skirt fell down to his thighs once more; his semen seeped out the front to stain it.
Snape fisted his cock, his hand a blur it was working so fast, and Harry realised that he hadn't come while he was inside Harry. It didn't take long before Snape was coming too; squirting over Harry's face and hair. It slid down Harry's face to land on his mouth and neck; he licked his lips, the taste was more bitter than his own.
"That's a good look for you, Potter. Covered in my come." Snape cast a cleaning spell on himself and buttoned up his trousers. "Too bad it will be the only time. Take off those ridiculous clothes and get out. I never want to see you again."
"O-only time? I thought I meant something to you!"
What were all those detentions about? They'd started off as Harry being punished for what his father had done, but he was sure that Snape had come to see him as more than that.
"Do you think I am unaware of the silly crush you seem to have on me? I took advantage of it, that's all. You really are naive, aren't you? Did you really think I would find your scrawny body attractive? Nothing I've done so far has even come close to making up for what your father and his friends did to me. You're an ugly, pathetic fool who hasn't got the sense he was born with. You never were very good at your Occlumency, Potter. You couldn't even tell a false memory from a real one."
Harry's eyes stung at the words. "It - it wasn't real? He never raped you?"
"Of course he didn't! James Potter, a rapist? Were you really so unsure of your own father? Yes, he was a bully and an idiot, but he was never a rapist. He and his friends did humiliate me at every opportunity, but they never went that far. You haven't yet felt an ounce of that humiliation. It's time to change all that."
Snape threw Harry's Gryffindor tie at him; Harry automatically reached out to grab it, feeling too late the pull of the Portkey. He landed, sick and disorientated in the middle of Hogsmeade high street. The other students stopped what they were doing to stare and giggle behind their hands. Harry's whole body flushed and he wished there was a convenient rock he could hide under. Everyone had seen; they'd seen him dressed like this, seen him covered in spunk and Harry didn't know how he was going to bear it.
"Harry, oh my God, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she hurried over and wrapped Harry up in her cloak. "What happened? Why are you dressed like that?"
Harry couldn't tell her, he couldn't tell anyone what had happened. The tears were falling before he was even aware of them as Hermione did her best to soothe him. But Harry couldn't be consoled. He was in love with Severus Snape, but the man thought he was ugly and worthless and had only been doing all of this to get back at Harry's father. Never mind that Harry had actually suggested it; Snape had manipulated him into doing it. God, how could he have been so stupid? Love really was blind, wasn't it?
"Ron, help me get him back to Hogwarts," said Hermione; her voice sounded very far away as Harry fainted.
"Harry, what happened?" Hermione was talking softly, as if Harry was ill and she didn't want to disturb him. Oh, he was ill all right; sick down to his soul.
"I need a shower," Harry said, sitting up on his bed.
"Not yet," said Hermione. "Not until the Aurors get here. Ron's gone to get them."
"What Aurors? Nothing happened, Hermione!"
"Harry, you landed in the middle of Hogsmeade dressed in nothing but a skimpy skirt and blouse and you were covered in semen! Of course something happened!"
"But it's my fault, I wanted to happen! It wasn't rape!" Harry protested.
"As good as!" Hermione retorted. "He was your teacher and he abused you, surely you can see that?"
"But, I love him," Harry whispered, appalled to find tears falling down his cheeks.
"Harry, he humiliated you in front of the whole school! That isn't love. He doesn't love you; you know that, don't you?"
"I know. I know," Harry sobbed against her shoulder. "But I want him to. But I want him to."