Finally, I can unveil my commissioned Snarry artwork, which was actually completed earlier this year!
This piece is an illustration for a delightful fairy tale “COEUR ECLATANT” written by my client, who requested a stained glass window style with an artistic touch of Art Nouveau, specifically inspired by Mucha’s style.
The experience has been truly enjoyable, as Mucha has always been one of my favorite artists, and Art Nouveau is one of my most beloved art periods. Not to mention, I’ve been a Snarry fan for a long time.
In this enchanting little story, Snarry the Hunter is a seemingly pragmatic character who struggles to acknowledge his deep affection for the little mermaid, Harry. In contrast, Harry is a frank and sincere mermaid, full of curiosity about life on land and completely unreserved in his unconditional love for the first—and only—human he has ever saved (although Snape cruelly denies ever needing help at the time! 🤣).
This is a tale of love between two characters who know so little yet so much about love. I’m still eagerly waiting for my client to reveal the ending!
My client has also created several related products based on this piece, which I’m excited to share with you all:
🔹An Acrylic Stand resembling a stained glass window (currently in its semi-final form)
My good friend and braintwin @kuriquinn suggested I try posting my actual fics on Tumblr, rather than just linking them, so I'm giving it a try. For those of you following my work on AO3 or AFF, these will be reposts until I'm caught up and everything is posted. :)
Title: Needs
Author: JBankai89
Status: Complete
Chapters: 1/1
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Warnings: Attempted Sexual Assault, Dub-Con
Genre: Omegaverse
Summary: Harry had no idea that Alphas and Omegas existed until a trip to the Hospital Wing turned into much more than he expected.
Other Links: AO3, AFF, LJ
Notes: Do mind the warnings if you are of the olden faith. (my obnoxious way of saying if you're one of those Purity Wank people, your bitching will be ignored)
Sequel: Wants
Needs
“Harry? Are you all right?”
Harry groaned; his head was pillowed in his arms at the Gryffindor table, and even though Hermione had spoken in a tone just barely above a whisper, it raked through him as though she'd been screaming. He tilted his head to the side, just enough to give her a one-eyed glare.
“Do I look all right, Hermione?” he demanded, then groaned again, and burrowed his face further into his arms.
Everything was too bright, to loud, too smelly, and everything was making his head pound.
The pain refused to stay in one place either; he could feel periodic bolts of pain course down his spine, he could feel his muscles cramp and seize, before it found a new miserable home somewhere else in his body. The pain was so fleeting that he didn't have a chance to properly react to it before it was gone, and that in itself was infuriating.
“Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing?” Hermione asked timidly, as though afraid that he was going to curse her.
Harry had half a mind to, if she didn't shut up.
“I can't,” Harry replied with another groan, “we've got that test in Potions, remember? Snape would skin me alive if I missed it.”
“But, Harry, you're ill,” Hermione protested, “even Snape isn't that unfair.” Harry snorted.
“Potions is second period,” Harry said in a mumble, “I can survive until then and I'll go see Pomfrey after.” He hoped the explanation would placate her, as all this talking was making his head feel worse, not better.
The shrill tonalities of the bell steamrolled through his head at that exact moment, cutting off any further protests that Hermione may have made, and he forced himself up and off to Charms with Ron and Hermione on either side of him.
Charms went about as well as Harry could have expected, and with the edges of his vision going a little red, he managed to at least stay standing through the lesson. Unfortunately, his spellwork was so shoddy that he was one of the few eighth years given extra homework to make up for it. It was a testament to how awful he must look that Hermione didn't even chastise him for not paying attention properly. He tried to ignore her worried glances, though it was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. Following the war Hermione had become strangely maternal, much like a miniature Molly Weasley.
He shuffled along with his friends down to the dungeons, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The potion fumes had never affected him this strongly before—he was uncertain whether he would faint or puke. The smells were overwhelming, and he staggered back a few steps, only to be caught by Ron and Hermione, who seemed to sense that whatever was wrong with him was no doubt getting worse, instead of better. Harry rubbed at his eyes, but the red ring around his vision did not fade, and his friends silently steered him towards the classroom door. Harry breathed through his mouth, trying to ignore the way the sharp, pungent smells made pain lance through his skull much more frequently.
Draco Malfoy shoved past them, but instead of spouting off one of his usual insults he froze, standing stock still. For a moment, Harry wondered if he'd been hit with some sort of Freezing Charm, but slowly he spun around, and stared at Harry in a way that made him extremely uncomfortable. It was the same possessive look Harry had seen in his eyes when he'd laid eyes on something he'd wanted. The fact that he was looking at Harry like that made absolutely no sense. Malfoy's nostrils flared, and he smirked, as though he and Harry were sharing some sort of private joke. Harry stared back, face blank with confusion. Without a word, Malfoy stalked off towards his fellow Slytherins.
“Okay, what was that about? Did I forget to put on deodorant or something?”
“You smell fine mate. It's just Malfoy being Malfoy. C'mon,” Ron steered Harry bodily towards their usual seats, and not a moment too soon as Snape swept into the classroom.
“As you are well aware, today I will be testing your aptitude—or lack thereof—on recalling N.E.W.T. Level Potions from memory. You will brew a Calming Draught with an Alyssum base. You have one hour. Begin.” There was a mad dash for the store cupboards, Harry lagging behind slightly as his head continued to throb. How on earth was he supposed to brew like this?
Harry found himself next to Malfoy, in line for the store cupboard. He was still trying to shake off the pounding in his head, and as a result nearly jumped out of his skin with shock and surprise when the blond fisted his robes. He yanked Harry closer, letting out a low, canine growl as he did so. Eyes wide with shock, he tried to lurch away, but his legs refused to work properly. Harry found himself hyperventilating, too surprised to even speak, but luckily his friends seemed to have noticed his distress.
“Oi, leave him alone!” Ron grabbed onto Harry's arm and yanked him away from the Slytherin, who seemed very reluctant to let Harry go. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Ron as though he'd taken away his favourite sweet. Harry stumbled as Ron continued to drag him away, and Harry found his voice.
“What the hell was that about?” He whispered the words in a hurried hiss as Malfoy grabbed what he needed and stalked off sulkily. Some of the redness around the edges of his vision had begun to recede, though his head was still throbbing.
“I'll explain later,” Ron said in a hurried whisper, his eyes a little wide. He nudged Harry and nodded at the cupboard. Remembering that he was supposed to be brewing a potion, he hastily grabbed what he needed and Ron steered him back to his seat.
His potion was far too thin and a bright turquoise instead of the sea green it was supposed to be, but he was far too distracted by everything. His head had slowly stopped aching, but every small sound, smell, and touch was maddening in its intensity. He struggled to focus on the task at hand, but he was acutely aware of more than a few of his peers—Slytherins, mostly—staring at him in a way that was nothing near to what he was used to. It was an intense, sexual look. Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably. What was going on? Had someone slipped muggle LSD into everyone's morning pumpkin juice?
Snape swept past his table, and froze just as Malfoy had. He turned slightly to stare Harry down, but offered up none of his usual acerbic barbs. His nostrils flared, and Harry could hear him taking a great sniff of something. He jerked back in his seat alarm, startled by the way a similar growl to Malfoy's escaped the Potions Master. A split second later, the man seemed to remember himself and offered Harry one last glare before he swept away in a swirl of billowing robes.
~*~
Harry all but staggered out of the classroom his limbs felt stiff, as though he'd been in bed for a week. Ron and Hermione helped him, but he felt slightly more clear-headed as the headache had finally faded in the last quarter of the lesson.
“Look, I'm fine,” Harry protested, “I'll go see Madam Pomfrey and get this sorted. You two'll be late for Transfiguration if you help me.” He felt unsettled by the looks the Slytherins were still giving him in passing, and it was made worse by the amused smirks they gave to Ron and Hermione. He did not need babysitters.
“Believe me, mate, the last thing you want is to be left alone right now.” Ron's tone was strangely serious, and as they helped Harry towards the stairs Malfoy made another appearance. He moved as if to approach them, but Ron whipped out his wand and pointed it at him. “Don't try it, Malfoy,” he growled, narrowing his eyes.
At first, Malfoy didn't move, clearly testing to see if Ron was bluffing, but finally he snorted in disgust and took off. Harry blinked in confusion, but didn't have a chance to question Ron as he steered him towards the staircase. Harry was too busy being manhandled by his friends to notice the Potions Master intently watching their ascent with hungry eyes.
~*~
By the time they had reached the Hospital Wing, Harry's legs had completely given out, and he was being dragged over the threshold. Harry groaned, the stark white of the walls and the bright springtime sunlight that bathed the room was too much and he shut his eyes tightly, his headache returning to him with renewed vigour. Distantly he could hear Madam Pomfrey's angry exclamation, and he felt himself being levitated off the ground. The pain in his head was too intense, and he could no longer focus on the sounds of his friends' voices or the matron enough to comprehend the words. He felt himself being lowered onto a bed, and the cool lip of a goblet being pressed to his mouth. He gulped down the potion, and within moments sunk into dreamless sleep.
When Harry next woke the Hospital Wing was dark, but Harry could still hear the occasional teenage voice bleed through the closed doors of the ward. Harry supposed it wasn't as late as he thought, and sat up with a small groan. He did feel better, the pain and sensory overload seemed to have passed, but his entire body felt heavy and weak.
“Potter?” Madam Pomfrey came into view at the front of his cubicle. “Ah, good, you're awake,” she bustled over, holding a vial in her hand that contained a thin, dark purple liquid. “Drink this, and then we can discuss your condition.”
She unstoppered the vial with a quick tap of her wand and handed it to him. Harry knocked it back and swallowed as fast as he could, though he still gagged on the rancid taste.
“Condition?” he rasped, accepting the glass of water she handed him and gulped it down, “I thought it was just a migraine or something.”
“I'm afraid not, Potter,” she grimaced, and Harry had the distinct impression that whatever was wrong with him wasn't good. He swallowed nervously while he waited for her to continue. “Usually symptoms of this condition present itself much earlier, often between the ages of fourteen and fifteen. I suppose with the stress of the last few years, yours had been suppressed.” Harry bit back a laugh; stress was putting it mildly. “Potter, have you heard of the terms Alpha and Omega before, from your lessons?” Harry shook his head, his mouth twitching into a small, confused frown. What was this about? The matron studied him for a moment, then elaborated.
“Within the wizarding world, there are four sexes, not two. Male, Female, Alpha, and Omega. The two latter are wizards born with lupine traits, and it is believed that it is a recessive gene from a period in history when many of our kind had bred with werewolves. The gene will not present itself until the child reaches puberty, but often the parents will often cast certain charms on their newborns to determine whether or not they fall into one of those two categories.” Harry blinked at her words, uncertain how to respond. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?
“There is no documentation in your file stating whether or not you had been tested for the Alpha/Omega gene,” she continued, “but given your symptoms, I performed the charm and your test came back positive for the Omega gene. This is not good news, Mr Potter.” Harry swallowed nervously; Madam Pomfrey was looking at him as though she had just informed him that he had cancer.
“This Omega thing...what does it mean?” Harry's voice shook slightly as he spoke, and based on the grave expression she still wore, he wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to know.
“Omegas are quite rare, Mr Potter. Of Alphas and Omegas born to a generation, only one Omega will be born for every ten Alphas, sometimes less. Omegas are physically weak, especially when in the presence of an Alpha. Unbonded, it can be very dangerous,” She paused, Harry staring at her with a blank look. “Omegas are submissive by nature, and when you have not committed yourself to an Alpha—romantically, sexually, and so on, you are considered to be unbonded. Your body will respond instinctively to an Alpha who takes an interest in you. There is no way around it, and if they want you, they will take you.” Madam Pomfrey spoke in a serious, matter-of-fact tone, but he felt himself go red at her words. Remembering how Malfoy had acted towards him, Harry supposed that that had to do with his condition. Harry shivered, grateful that Ron seemed to have understood the danger when he pulled Harry from the line of fire.
“Are you talking about...do you mean rape?” He swallowed thickly, shivering a little as he recalled how he was virtually incapable of independent movement by the time they had reached the Hospital Wing.
“It comes rather close,” she frowned, pausing as she considered her words carefully. “If an Alpha takes interest in you, they can use their innate abilities to render you submissive and compliant. You will find that your body does not react to your thoughts as readily, or you may suddenly feel compelled to act submissively towards the Alpha in question. This could mean kneeling at their feet, or losing your ability to stand and collapsing. The responses tend to be rather unpredictable, as are the ways in which the Alphas in this school will respond to you.” Harry shuddered at her explanation, his mind filling with images of kneeling at some faceless man's feet, like a household pet. The concept made him feel sick with shame.
“In addition to this,” she continued, “you will experience Heats.” Harry blinked, and to his blank look she elaborated, “every month starting the day preceding the full moon and ending the day following it, your body will crave sexual stimulation from an Alpha.” Harry felt himself flush at that—it was a little strange to imagine himself morphing into some sort of wanton whore. “It is quite painful, and I can have you sedated and warded in a private room for the duration if you so wish.”
Harry stared down at his lap, his fingers picking at a hairline scratch on the back of his hand given to him by Crookshanks. He tried to work through what she had told him, but it was too much, and he could already feel the first signs of panic setting in. “There's more, Potter,” Madam Pomfrey's voice snapped him out of his daze, and she looked even more grave than she had before.
“More?” His voice sounded rather hoarse in his ears.
“As I said, the wizarding world has four sexes, not two. Alphas and Omegas differ from Male and Female in several small ways physically. That being said, the most significant physical change that you need to concern yourself with is the fact that Omegas can conceive children.”
“Wait, what?” Harry shook his head, certain that he had misheard her. “But that's...that's impossible. I'm—I don't have the right equipment for that.” Harry reached down—all sense of decency forgotten in his panic—and checked to make sure nothing had fallen off in his sleep—nope, meat and two veg still in tact. Thank God.
“Not yet, but you will,” frowned again, though this time she looked rather sympathetic. “You won't lose your equipment, as you call it, but your rectum will develop a secondary use during your Heats as a receptacle for bearing young. You will also lose your testicles, as your body no longer has a need of them.” Harry groaned, lifting his knees and burying his face in his thighs. This was too much. He had always thought he'd get to have the normal life he'd always wanted once Voldemort had snuffed it—so much for that.
“What am I supposed to do?” His despairing voice was muffled slightly by his position, but he didn't move. “I don't want to...I mean, is there any way to get rid of this Omega thing?”
“I'm afraid not, Potter. Had we known of the gene prior to you presenting, we may have been able to block it with potions for a time until you felt ready, but now there is nothing to stop it. The potion I gave you will suppress your scent as an unbonded Omega, but that will not stop the Alphas within the school who already know of your status from seeking you out. I suggest for the time being, you keep your friends close, and do not wander off alone.”
~*~
Harry left the Hospital Wing the following morning with a wad of pamphlets in his hand, given to him should he have any questions. Harry shivered as he recalled the conversation from the night before. He just wanted to pretend the whole thing had never happened.
He made a quick stop at Gryffindor tower to change into some clean robes and grab his books, and arrived in the Great Hall with time to spare. He sat down heavily next to Ron, who jumped in surprise at his sudden reappearance. “Harry! We didn't think Pomfrey would let you out so soon.” Harry crammed a piece of bacon into his mouth to avoid responding, but Ron simply ploughed forward, oblivious to Harry's reluctance for small talk that morning. He leaned in and hissed, “how come you never told us you were an Omega?”
“I didn't know,” Harry's voice shook with annoyance, and he struggled to keep it at a whisper. “I didn't even know about all this Alpha and Omega stuff until last night when Pomfrey gave me an earful.” He grimaced and shifted his gaze to the High Table, where he could see the recently-cured-but-still-an-idiot Gilderoy Lockhart having some sort of exuberant conversation with Professor Sprout, who looked particularly sour at the seating arrangements that morning. Hermione's voice dragged Harry back to the conversation.
“Harry, I know you don't want to think on it, but you need to be very careful for the next while. I mean, unbonded practically every Alpha in the school will be able to sense it—”
“I know, Hermione,” Harry said wearily, absentmindedly raking a hand through his hair. “Pomfrey told me. I'm like a beacon or something for all these Alpha-whatevers.”
“Not to mention Malfoy,” Ron sniggered a little, while Harry hit his head against the tabletop with a groan.
Taking it upon themselves to protect Harry from every Alpha in the castle, Ron and Hermione had begun to escort him absolutely everywhere. Harry felt extremely weird being shepherded from class to class by his friends; he knew they meant well, and as such kept his complaints to a minimum. Even stranger still was the way his legs seemed to buckle when he got too close to certain students.
Draco Malfoy was practically stalking him, and Ron had taken the fall quite spectacularly when he cursed Draco in order for Harry and Hermione to make a hasty getaway. Ron's subsequent detentions with Filch sounded like nothing short of torture, but Ron had brushed off Harry's apologies with a casual shrug, as though he'd done no more than pick up a quill Harry had dropped.
At mealtimes, Harry was assaulted more than once by the distinctive scent of Alpha coming from the Head Table. While he knew that Snape was an Alpha—a realization that made him extremely nervous—he had a feeling that he couldn't be the only one, as the scent was far too strong. He had wondered on more than one occasion who else might be, but he wasn't exactly keen to get close enough to the teachers to find out for himself.
He had slowly been growing used to his heightened senses, in particular the way he could smell an Alpha nearby well before he saw them. Their scent was so distinctive from the other witches and wizards around him that he had quickly learnt to look for it in an effort to make himself scarce before the Alpha in question could zero-in on him. During his lessons that was next to impossible, and his only choice was to choose a seat as far from the Alpha scent as he could. Ron and Hermione dutifully sat on either side of him to deter any hopeful Alphas from sitting too close to him.
Two days following his stint in the Hospital Wing, his musings as to who else on Staff was an Alpha was answered most unpleasantly following the lunch hour.
Professor Lockhart swept into the room for their afternoon Defence lesson in robes of lilac, while he smiled broadly at the assembled pupils. A few of the girls near to him tittered, and Harry rolled his eyes. Why McGonagall thought it was a good idea to take the git back was beyond him. His memory had been repaired, but he was still the biggest moron Harry had ever met.
“Good afternoon, class! Today we will pick up where we left off last time in my latest book, Budding with Basilisks...”
Harry wasn't listening, but instead he was focusing on a scroll of parchment before him, doodling and feigning his note-taking. Or, he was until a very distinctive scent invaded his senses from the front of the class, making his head snap up in alarm.
Oh bloody hell. Lockhart was an Alpha.
Harry raked a hand through his hair nervously, looking sideways at Ron with wide eyes, but he was too busy sleeping to pay his alarm much mind. Hermione was engrossed in her note-taking, and did not even look up when Harry looked her way.
Harry determinedly looked anywhere but at the professor as the lesson progressed, but he could practically feel Lockhart's eyes boring into him. Harry felt that all-too familiar weakness in his limbs, and he was thoroughly grateful that he had been sitting down. He didn't much like the idea of falling to his knees before Lockhart in full view of his peers.
At the end of the lesson, Harry packed up his things quickly and stood up on trembling limbs. He was almost at the door when he heard his voice being called. “Harry! A moment, if you please!” Harry felt his insides turn to ice and before he could protest, he saw Lockhart shunting Ron and Hermione out the door, shutting it in their alarmed faces. Swallowing thickly Harry leaned against a nearby desk, gripping the edges tightly to keep himself standing.
The older man spun around in a swirl of colour and smiled down at Harry in what the older man clearly thought to be a friendly smile. Harry thought it looked rather like the man planned to devour him like a dessert; the thought was not comforting. His legs shook more violently, and he held onto the desk more tightly. The urge to fall to his knees before the man was almost overwhelming, though his heart still pounded out his fear unabated. “Harry,” Lockhart purred his name, and Harry felt slightly sick. “My, my, my. What am I going to do with you?”
“Sir, I—”
“Now, now, my little Omega, I didn't tell you to talk,” Harry found that he suddenly had lost his voice, his breath coming out in a faint rasp. His eyes bulged with fright as Lockhart came closer. His legs trembled worse than ever, and Harry pulled himself onto the top of the desk to keep himself from toppling over. Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, but still his voice refused to work properly. His absolute helplessness to defend himself or even cry out was overwhelming, and despite looking on the professor with an expression of nothing short of terror, he continued his approach as though he hadn't noticed it.
Lockhart stopped when he was directly in front of Harry, with a smile he certainly thought was seductive in some way. He reached forward and twisted his hands in the fabric of Harry's robes and dragged him to his feet. At once, Harry's knees buckled and he found himself caught by a pair of surprisingly strong arms. Harry stared up at the professor with wide eyes, his entire weakened form thrumming with panic. He struggled to find the strength to wrench himself away, but whatever Alpha magic Lockhart was employing now, it kept him as compliant as Pomfrey had warned him that he'd be in a situation like this. Oh God, Harry thought in a panic, what do I do, what do I do? This can't be happening!
“Harry,” Lockhart purred his name, and a shiver ran through him. “Do you know how long I've waited to find an Omega worthy of me? Your body knows it wants this,” he leaned in closer with a chuckle, his free hand pressing against Harry's chest and above his frantic heart, “not to worry, your mind will catch up.” He moved the hand to cradle the back of his neck, his other arm coiled around his waist. Harry lifted his arms to try and push the professor off, but it was as though he had completely lost all of his physical strength; his attempts were as effective as trying to push over a brick wall barehanded. “Now now,” Lockhart said softly, looking down at Harry's arms, “none of that.” At once, Harry's arms fell to his sides, limp and useless.
The professor's mouth was mere millimetres from his own when the classroom door burst open. In his shock, Lockhart dropped Harry and he crumpled to the ground in a heap. Harry winced as his knees fell hard against the stone, gasping sharply in pain. At the same moment, he felt his voice rush back into him like a sudden gust of wind. His relief was short-lived, as his gaze shifted to the door to see who his rescuer was to see Snape standing there, looking furious. Harry heard his throat click as he swallowed nervously.
A tense silence fell, Harry's gaze flitting between the two professors. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest he was certain that they could hear it, and it took a great effort to keep himself from hyperventilating. Lockhart and Snape stared each other down, teeth bared, and Harry was struck suddenly by how lupine it all seemed. Snape took a step forward and a low growl escaped him, while Lockhart stood his ground in a most uncharacteristic manner.
“I believe the Omega was rejecting your advances,” Snape murmured in a low, dangerous voice. The tone washed over Harry, making him shiver. The low rumble of the voice was not entirely unpleasant, which was a slightly alarming concept for Harry to wrap his head around. Snape's gaze remained fixed on Lockhart, his eyes narrowed with barely-controlled fury. “Or is your ego compressing your feeble brain so effectively that you cannot control your base magic enough to give the Omega back his self-control?”
“That's not your concern, Severus,” Lockhart replied, his tone far from his usual easy confidence, his eyes narrowed at the other man. Harry could not recall ever hearing him this angry, though Snape looked entirely unconcerned, as though he was observing a tiny dog trying to look more dangerous than it actually was. Harry felt some of the strength returning to his limbs and he stood slowly, but this turned out to be a poor decision as both of the Alphas whipped around to face him. He froze, pressing himself back into the desk, not daring to make any sudden movements.
Harry swallowed nervously, his eyes flitting back and forth between Snape and Lockhart, mirrored looks of possessive desire in their eyes as they looked down on Harry. Lockhart took a step towards him and he tried to lurch away, but the older man was too quick for him, and he felt himself suddenly dragged forward and pressed into the arrogant git's side. “I saw him first,” Harry tried to pull away, but it was as though Lockhart's arm had turned to a steel beam. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't move it. Snape watched the exchange silently, his left brow arching as a strange look of amusement crossed his face.
“Perhaps you did, Gilderoy,” Snape shifted his gaze to Harry, staring him down so intently he felt his face heat. He determinedly looked anywhere but at the two quarrelling Alphas—he hated how they made him feel like a piece of meat, and not a person. “But it seems as though the little Omega does not choose you.” Harry gritted his teeth and his gaze whirled around to Snape angrily. Little? Wasn't the man past his petty insults yet? He felt Lockhart's arm slacken, and at once Snape grabbed for him, the movement so sudden he could not quell the strangled yelp of surprise that escaped him. Without so much as a backward glance, he frogmarched Harry out of the classroom.
Harry was half-walked, half-dragged halfway across the castle before Snape felt compelled to stop. Pressing a hand to the centre of Harry's sternum, he slammed him back into the stone wall of the corridor. Harry grimaced as the force of the shove caused his head to jerk back and hit the stone sharply. “Potter, exactly how you managed to vanquish the Dark Lord when you don't have enough common sense to fill an eggcup is beyond me. You know that you are an unbonded Omega, and Lockhart is not subtle about his heritage. And yet you saw fit to allow yourself to be alone with him. Do you have some burning desire to bond yourself to the likes of him? Five more minutes and I can assure you, that is exactly what would have happened.” Snape rattled off his little speech in an angry growl just barely above a whisper.
“I didn't do it on purpose,” Harry growled back, moving to push away the hand that pinned him, but he found that it rested there as firmly as Lockhart's arm had earlier. “He stopped me at the end of the lesson, and closed the door on Ron and Hermione before I could say two words. And then my body went all weird.”
“That is Alpha Compulsion. Any Alpha can compel you to weakness and compliance, usually when they intend to bind an Omega to themselves. Stronger Alphas know how to control it so that an unbonded Omega will not turn into a pile of jelly when they are within ten feet of them.” Snape snapped off his words impatiently, as though he was explaining a painfully simple concept to a small child.
“Stronger, like you?” Harry sneered, making sure that Snape knew that he did not intend it as a compliment. Snape rolled his eyes, and in his moment of distraction Harry tried to wedge out from under the pressure of his hand again, but he was still stuck. At his minute movements, Snape refocused a glare on him. “Let me go,” Harry said coldly.
“No.”
“Why the hell not?” Harry was getting tired of this Alpha dominance crap, and it had been less than a week since Madam Pomfrey had broken the news to him.
“Watch your language, Potter, I am still your professor,” Snape came closer, and Harry instinctively pressed back into the stone, trying to keep his mind from dissolving into a panic—and the faintest trace of arousal. “You will respect my authority,” the low, velvet tones of the command washed over Harry, and an involuntary moan escaped his barely parted lips. He felt himself go red immediately following it, and he turned his head away. Harry had no idea if his reaction was genuine or some stupid Alpha/Omega thing, and he wasn't certain he wanted to find out.
His reluctance to look at the older man was indulged for about three seconds before he felt Snape's strong hand grip his jaw and force his gaze back to him. Harry glared at him, his arms hanging limply at his sides, while he did his best to mask his fear. The stare Snape was giving him was deeply unsettling, and before he could completely think through the action, he tried to jerk out of the hold.
The small motion seemed to shatter Snape's self control, and with a growl he claimed Harry's mouth with his own.
Harry wanted to tense, wanted to cry out his surprise, or protest. But Snape's—Severus's mouth was so very hot on his own, the demanding and expert tongue sought out his virgin one, and within seconds he could feel an erection straining painfully against his trousers. Harry arched into the touch and kiss, reaching up to cling to the older man as he trembled with desire.
As quickly as the Alpha had descended upon him, he was released. Harry slid down the wall, feeling boneless in an entirely different way than earlier. He looked up at Severus through half-lidded eyes, and the deep thrum of his laughter washed over him like a warm summer breeze. Severus crouched down, ignoring Harry's blatant erection as he cupped Harry's jaw and kissed him again, allowing it to linger for barely a moment before he pulled back.
“Not yet, my little Omega,” Severus purred, “you will know when it is time.” The Alpha's hot breath danced across his mouth and cheek, and Harry found that this time he did not mind the pet name as much. His eyelids fluttered, but Severus paid his blatant arousal no mind as he stood and swept down the passageway without a backward glance.
Harry stood slowly on trembling limbs, and after ensuring that no other Alphas were nearby he hastened to the nearest loo.
~*~
Harry stepped back into the passageway, sated, but not as satisfied as he had hoped. He cursed inwardly when he nearly collided with Draco Malfoy, who seemed to have been waiting for him right outside the door. Harry felt the painfully familiar weakness in his limbs, and he moved quickly away from him. Draco was too quick, and he reached out with lightning-fast movements and grabbed tightly onto Harry's forearm, dragging him close. Harry staggered into him, yanking weakly on his arm caught in the Slytherin's vice grip.
“Damn it, Draco, let me go,” Harry hissed, tugging weakly at his trapped arm while silently cursing himself for not waiting to get back to Gryffindor Tower to finish the job Severus had started.
“I can smell the sex on you, Omega,” he hissed, ignoring Harry's demand, “wouldn't it feel so much better if you had an Alpha take care of that for you?”
“An Alpha would feel better,” Harry whispered, still trying to escape Draco's grip, “but not you.”
His words seemed to startle the blond, and he leaned in close, his nostrils flaring. He seemed to smell Severus's scent still clinging to him, and with a curse he threw Harry's arm away from him with such force that Harry stumbled back several paces. Draco took off in the same direction that Severus had gone, but Harry was not worried about his welfare—The Potions Master had proved on more than one occasion that he knew how to take care of himself. Harry did not waste any time, and instead hurried back to Gryffindor Tower.
“Harry!” Hermione practically threw herself at him the second he slipped through the portrait hole. Harry staggered back a few paces before Hermione seemed to sense how off-balance he still was and let him go. “We were so worried! We thought Lockhart might try something, there was just something how he was looking at you during the lesson and we found Professor Snape and told him—” Harry had tuned out most of her her rushed explanation, until it registered what he was hearing. Eyes wide, he dragged her to a quiet corner of the common room with Ron following quietly behind.
“Are you telling me that it was your brilliant idea to send in another Alpha on top of Lockhart?” He hissed, struggling to ignore how decidedly not unpleasant his encounter with the Alpha had been.
“What are you talking about?” Hermione's brow knitted together, and Harry cocked a brow at her. Ron seemed to get it about three seconds before her, and even his freckles seemed to pale. “Oh. Oh dear.”
“I swear, mate, we had no idea Snape was a—are you okay, though? I mean with Snape and you being—being, well, you know...” His ghostly pallor flushed red, and Harry bit back the urge to tell them exactly what had happened. While their reactions would have been highly entertaining, he reigned in the temptation.
“I'm fine. Or, I was until Malfoy cornered me. He smelled Snape on me and now I'm pretty sure he's come to the wrong conclusions—” or the right ones, Harry thought, “—and is plotting revenge against his Head of House as we speak.” Harry smirked, rather pleased that he managed to keep a straight face through most of his explanation. Ron looked highly amused, while Hermione looked apprehensive.
“I just wonder if you'll be fine three days from now,” she replied nervously. She frowned, and both Harry and Ron turned to her with confused stares.
“What's in three days?” Harry blinked once, and Hermione huffed with annoyance and shot him a dirty look.
“The night before the full moon.”
Suddenly, Severus's words made much more sense.
~*~
Ron and Hermione stuck to Harry like glue, so intensely protective of their suddenly more-than-helpless friend that they would not even allow him a trip to the loo on his own. Harry was grateful, but by the second day it had begun to grate on him, especially when all he wanted was a minute alone with Severus. One look from the Alpha and all Harry wanted to do was drop to his knees and service his cock. He struggled to keep his eyes to himself and not on the Potions Master during lessons and mealtimes. His intense focus was not missed by Hermione, but she never commented on it.
Draco was furious and more antagonistic than usual, clearly jealous of the older man succeeding where he had failed so spectacularly. It had escalated to the point that Harry half-expected to see a report in the Prophet about hell freezing over, as the eighth year potions class witnessed Severus Snape dock points from his own house for the first time in history.
Amidst the chaos of his friends and his would-be suitors, it seemed as though the other Alphas had backed off. Whether this was because they could still smell Severus on him or some other reason, Harry wasn't certain. It was a relief for that he didn't need to worry as intensely about being accosted by another student when he found himself suddenly without his would-be bodyguards.
As for Lockhart, it seemed as though Severus had memorized Harry's timetable—or at least when he was scheduled for Defence Against the Dark Arts—and would mysteriously appear every time Lockhart tried to keep him past the end of the lesson. Severus hadn't touched him again following that first heated kiss, but Harry was rubbish at hiding his desire for the older Alpha, giving him a significant look every time he rescued him from Lockhart's clutches. In these instances Hermione gave him a knowing look, while Ron mimed vomiting behind Severus's back.
Harry woke early on the day preceding the full moon, his stomach knotted with anxiety. His heat, and whatever it would entail, had filled him with nothing short of an excited panic. He was still uncertain whether or not he should take Severus up on his unspoken offer, or if he should just ask Pomfrey to sedate him for the duration of it. He knew which one sounded more appealing, but he wasn't sure he had the nerve to actually do it. Harry dragged himself out of bed and headed to the showers.
By the time he made it to breakfast he was on time and not overly early. He felt distinctly awkward as he wove through the tables, as more than one head spun in his direction and watched his progression through the Great Hall and to the Gryffindor table. Harry could feel a flush creeping up his neck, but he determinedly did not look around as he walked. It felt as though every Alpha in the entire school was staring at him.
Harry sat down heavily next to Hermione and grabbed some toast. She poured him some black coffee and pushed it towards him. “Why does it feel like I'm walking under a spotlight?” Harry muttered to her, while she smiled at him weakly.
“It's because your first Heat is about to start,” she whispered, trying to be as discreet as she could. “I read about it in Alphas and Omegas: A Case Study in Genetic Divergence. Basically, they can sense that not only that you are unbonded, but you are about to have your first Heat. Your body produces extra pheromones—you may as well be a walking billboard, Harry. Don't wander off today. I don't want you getting pounced on by anyone.” She paused, and a slow smirk replaced the nervous expression, “unless there's someone you want to be pounced on by...” she giggled as Harry elbowed her.
Harry spent the day in a state of tense worry, uncertain how he'd know when this Heat thing was supposed to start. Hermione's reassurances that he'd 'just know' was not helpful in the least. His end-of-day Potions lesson was much better than usual, as Severus took more than one opportunity to sweep over and come up with thinly veiled excuses to touch him. Harry particularly enjoyed Malfoy's silent but infuriated reactions each time this happened.
Evening came and went, and Harry went to bed supposing that perhaps that his body wasn't as caught up with the rest of the changes as he thought. He'd heard of girls missing periods—perhaps this was similar. He settled into his four-poster with a contented sigh, reliving the small moments during his potions lesson from earlier that afternoon, a silly grin plastered across his face.
~*~
Harry woke sometime after midnight soaked with sweat. His body was on fire, his groin ached and he was strangely sticky in a way that almost felt as though he'd soiled himself. Harry sat up with a groan, the sudden movement causing a wave of dizziness to run through him. He was painfully hard, and muscle cramps lanced through his abdomen and to his groin in a constant cycle of pain and arousal. Harry could barely stifle the pained whimpers as he struggled to think clearly through his fog his mind had become.
“Harry?” Ron's groggy voice shot through the silence like an arrow, but Harry felt as though he couldn't zero in on it; he was too focused on the multitude of bodily reactions happening to him all at once. He tried to respond, but it came out as a keening moan, and he heard Ron hiss a curse under his breath. “It's started, hasn't it?” Harry nodded mutely, dragging in ragged breaths as he tried to get a handle on the pain and arousal coursing through him, his fingers tangling in his bedsheets and gripping them tightly as he arched his back, his breathing shallow. Ron was up and racing out of the dormitory in a flash. Harry watched him go, but another wave of pain shot to his crotch and he hissed again, trembling as he struggled to keep quiet.
Ron's hissing voice was joined by another, and in an instant he and Hermione were there. They dragged Harry from the soaked bedsheets, and Harry stood on trembling limbs while they helped him into a dressing gown. “Come on Harry,” Hermione whispered, draping one of his arms about her shoulders, while Ron mirrored her on his other side. “Don't worry, we'll get you sorted,” the invisibility cloak was draped over them by Ron, and they carefully ushered him toward the staircase.
Walking was agony. Harry was still shaking, cold and hot all at once, the pain in his most intimate areas making it difficult to walk properly. The wetness in his arse was extremely uncomfortable, and it caused his pyjama bottoms to cling to him as he moved. “It's okay Harry,” Hermione would whisper every few minutes in a soft, reassuring tone, “we'll get you what you need.” Harry was only vaguely aware that they had deviated from the general direction of the Hospital Wing and they were descending to the dungeons. Harry nodded weakly to her words, and stumbled over his own feet as he struggled to stay standing.
They paused before a door Harry did not recognize, and Ron drew the cloak off them while Hermione reached out to knock. The Alpha scent was intoxicating, and a low moan escaped him. A faint breeze brushed over him as the door flew open, and Severus stood there with a simple dressing gown pulled over his nightshirt. “What the...” his words died as he inhaled sharply. Hermione and Ron released Harry and he staggered forward, his breath coming out in short gasps before he was pulled into a tight embrace by the Alpha.
“Please,” Harry whispered hoarsely into the Severus's chest, “I need—I need—”
“Shh,” Severus whispered, cutting off his words, “I know what you need.” He turned briefly his two friends, who were looking on fearfully. “Granger, Weasley,” he paused, and in the silence that followed the only sound that could be heard was Harry's ragged breathing. “Twenty-five points to Gryffindor...each.” He dragged Harry into his chambers and slammed the door, not even pausing to watch the effect his words had had on the pair.
Harry clung to the Alpha, his skin still hot, the contact of the older man like a cooling salve. He struggled to stay upright, and another jolt of pain shot through him, ripping another keening moan from his lungs. Harry's knees began to buckle, but Severus swept him up in his arms before he could fall. Harry tried to focus, but the intoxicating scent of the Alpha coupled with his own bodily reactions was overwhelming. He hooked his arms around Severus's neck and buried his face in his shoulder, inhaling deeply as the man crossed his chambers to the bedroom with the Omega securely in his arms.
Harry was dropped onto the bedspread and the Alpha's mouth was on him at once. He reached out and fisted the older man's hair, opening his mouth to receive his delicious, demanding tongue. Harry moaned into his mouth, arching his spine and grinding his painful erection into Severus's thigh. He groaned into Harry's mouth, and reached down to press his palm into the hot flesh of his groin. Harry's breath hitched, and another moan escaped him.
Severus moved his hand away, ignoring Harry's whimpers of protest as he hastily stripped the Omega of his dressing gown and pyjama top, several buttons popping off the shirt in his haste. The cool air of the dungeon chambers hit Harry's sweat-soaked skin, shivering as gooseflesh broke out across his arms and shoulders at once. Severus chuckled at the reaction and broke the kiss, leaning down to drag his tongue from the top of Harry's sternum, across his clavicle, only stopping when he reached the dip where his shoulder met his throat.
Long, angular fingers ran up and down Harry's arms, warming them as the pain slowly began to fade, while his arousal intensified. The wetness in his arse became more pronounced, and he squirmed uncomfortably. Severus's hot breath ghosted across his skin as he chuckled, his left hand sliding slowly down his chest and abdomen, pausing just above the tented garment. Harry groaned, intending to mumble a demand for the man to get on with it, but the words tumbled from his lips as gibberish, Severus's mouth still licking, sucking and biting at the flesh of his throat.
Harry was uncertain what Severus did, but he moved his mouth to another spot along his throat, and pleasure lanced through him like a bolt of lightning. “Oh!” Harry gasped, leaning into the contact while the Alpha chuckled at the enthused response.
“That is your Bonding Gland,” he purred, reaching up to caress it with his fingertips, eliciting another moan from the Omega beneath him, “it is delightfully sensitive, especially during your Heats.” Harry leaned into the touch, quivering with the pleasure that coursed through him from the contact. His cock twitched against the fabric of his pyjamas, the front of them positively soaked with his precome. Harry whimpered and jerked his hips minutely, the motion causing Severus to chuckle again.
The Alpha paused just long enough to shrug out of his dressing down and peel off the nightshirt, and another moan escaped past Harry's lips at the sight before him. Alabaster skin stretched over a bony torso, marred only by the jagged scars left by Nagini. A fine dusting of dark hairs trailed down his abdomen and collecting in a dark thatch just above the man's groin, where the delicious sight of his thick cock jutted forward, a pearly drop of precome dangling from the tip. “Like what you see, pet?” Harry caught the right side of his lower lip between his teeth and nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. The nickname from anyone else might feel demeaning, but Harry loved the way it rolled off Severus's tongue and made him feel possessed; claimed.
Without waiting to be asked, Harry slid off the bed and fell gracelessly to his knees before the older man. Severus's fingers ran though Harry's thick mop of hair encouragingly as he sat up slightly, leant forward, and his lips stretched over his cock. Severus groaned and his hips jerked forward, the hand in Harry's hair moving to the back of his neck, urging him silently forward. Harry gripped the base of the cock, doing his best to swallow as much of it as he could. Severus did not force in more than Harry could reasonably take, and he could all but feel the Alpha restraining his urge to thrust down Harry's virgin throat.
Slowly Harry began to bob his head, stroking his hand up and down Severus's length in time with the movements of his mouth. His technique was given very little critique, save for the garbled murmur of, “cover your teeth,” early on. After several minutes, Severus moved a hand to Harry's shoulder, stilling his movements. The Alpha slid his cock from Harry's mouth with a wet pop and closed his own hand over his throbbing erection. He gave it several quick pulls and came with a groan, thick ropes of come splattering across Harry's face and throat. The contact of the semen with his flesh caused Harry to moan again, his mouth twitching into an open-mouthed grin, his eyes shut tight.
“Accio,” Severus murmured, Harry's eyes flicking open at the sound of the incantation. He reached out and caught the flannel that soared across the room, tapping it once to dampen it with cool water. He knelt before Harry and gently mopped the spunk from his face, the small touches enough to elicit further fevered moans from him. Harry leaned into the contact, his breath ragged, his own painful arousal not diminished in the least.
Harry had expected that it would take Severus some time before he was ready to go again, but the Alpha urged him to his feet and reclaimed his mouth hungrily, while he pulled Harry down onto the bed. He could already feel the half-hard prick pressing into his thigh, the contact making Harry tremble with barely-controlled desire. He shifted closer, locking his arms around Severus's neck while he coiled his arms around Harry's waist, pulling him close. Their bodies moulded together, the feeling of Severus's hot flesh clinging to his own made Harry tremble.
“I want...” he gasped between kisses, “I—I need...” Harry's words were cut off by a large hand pressing against his groin, and Harry threw his head back with a cry.
“Hush, my little Omega,” Severus purred, nipping lightly at Harry's lower lip, “I know what you need.” His thumbs hooked in the elastic of the garment at his hips, pulling down sharply and freeing Harry's painful erection in one swift movement.
Harry had little time to enjoy the feel of the fresh air encasing his cock before Severus's hands rested on his hips, slowly coaxing him over and onto his hands and knees. Every minute touch caused Harry's cock to twitch and another moan to escape him, his ready and eager reactions making the man at his back chuckle with amusement. A kiss was pressed to the centre of Harry's spine, he hissing with shock as the feeling of some sort of spell rushed through his arse. He had only barely come to the realization that it was a preparation spell before the head of the Alpha's thick cock breached his entrance.
Harry's arms shook with the effort of staying in position, his spine curving and his neck arching, crying out his approval at the delicious sensation of the thick cock entering him. Harry was only vaguely aware of the sear of pain that shot through him, too busy thrusting backward, all but impaling himself on Severus's cock. Behind him, the Alpha grunted in time with Harry's fevered moans, an arm wrapped around his waist, anchoring him in place as he was mercilessly fucked.
One final guttural moan of pleasure, and Severus dug his fingers into Harry's flesh, hard enough to bruise, though he was too far gone for the pain to register. Harry bowed his head forward, his breath hitching as Severus pushed forward, his knot passing the ring of muscle none too gently, while the Omega's own orgasm hit at the same moment, hoarse cries echoing throughout the room as he released onto Severus's bedspread.
They fell bodily onto the coverlet, Severus holding tightly to Harry as he rolled them onto their sides, spooning the boy against himself. Harry shifted a little, but the Alpha tightened his hold on him. “Don't move,” he murmured, his voice somewhere between a purr and growl, “we are still joined. It will be some time before we can separate.”
“How long?” Harry murmured, while he snuggled back against him, not entirely disliking the feel of the enormous member still filling him so completely.
“It could be an hour—maybe more,” Harry moaned in response to the answer, his cock twitching a little when Severus leaned in to nip at his Bonding Gland. The Alpha chuckled softly, his hold on Harry tightening slightly. Severus reached down and trailed his fingers along Harry's length, the Omega shuddering and struggling with the urge to thrust his hips forward. He didn't want to hurt the Alpha, but his control over his own body was almost beyond him at this point.
Severus continued to stroke him with feather-light touches, enough for his painful hardness to return, but not enough to make him come. Harry whimpered with frustration, his hips twitching reflexively, the Alpha's free arm holding tightly to him to keep him from ripping them apart prematurely. Slowly, he closed a hand over Harry's hardness and increased the speed of his strokes, and within moments he had leached another orgasm from him.
Panting shallowly, he eased back into Severus's embrace, sated—for the moment. They lay in comfortable silence, Harry's hands resting over the arm that held him, while something he remembered reading from the pamphlets coming back to him.
“Are you...I mean, will you...” Harry felt his face heat, “c-claim me?” Harry had read the passages on Alpha/Omega bonding more thoroughly than he had any other. At the time they had scared him senseless, as the Omega had little control over the Alpha, should he decide to lay claim on him by way of a bite to his bonding gland. In the afterglow of better sex than his fantasies had ever managed to conjure, the idea of being bound to Severus filled him with a thrill of longing.
“You are still lost in the Heat,” Severus murmured after several long moments of silence, though following his meek request his hold on the Omega had tightened slightly. “If when you return to your normal state you still wish it, I will be more than happy to oblige you.” Harry trembled a little when he felt teeth nip lightly against the gland, his eyes fluttering shut as he sighed contently.
A soft squelching noise filled the silence, the knot releasing them and leaving Harry feeling strangely empty. At once Harry turned and kissed the Alpha, clinging tightly to him as they once more descended into the throes of passion.
~*~
That following Monday, Harry returned to the hustle and bustle of the castle, a crescent scar adorning his throat.
For once, he didn't mind people staring at his scar.
-Fin
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