NUMBER THE SEVENTY-THIRD: Summary: Professor Snape takes muggle "school girl" Harry out for a soda at the soda shop. There are nobly knees, a pleated skirt, saddle shoes, slipping knee socks, licked lips, wide eyes, lacy knickers and a very shy smile. This is to be done as if Harry were a girl with boy anatomy. By: Little Needle

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I should not be here.

I should not be doing this.

But... I am doing nothing wrong. I am merely taking a favoured student out for a treat... We are in public, after all, and all is quite proper.

Though I feel my wicked desires are writ large upon my face, I know that no one can tell.

And I cannot resist, the perversity of taking Harry out in public like this is much too arousing. I sit, proper in my professor's robes, while underneath my cock pulses, hard and wet for the boy.

Just to look at him so is nearly enough to make me climax. He sits, looking around avidly, perhaps wondering what he should order, paying my lecherous gaze no notice.

For surely he is aware of it. The way I look at him... anyone should be able to tell how much I lust for him.

His skirt is perhaps slightly too short for propriety, but not too much so; his knees peek out from under the pleats, first pressed together then swung apart as he fidgets. I close my eyes and try not to groan aloud as I picture what's underneath: lacy white knickers, a size too small, barely covering him.

I know because I bought them for him.

As I bought the black and white saddle shoes that grace his delicate feet. And the white knee socks that slip down casually, revealing still-hairless calves.

He's only twelve. He looks exactly the part of a schoolgirl when I dress him up thus, and he never questions. Never complains. Just looks up at me with that innocent expression on his face, the one that makes my heart pound and my cock like stone. The one that makes me want to throw him down and take him fiercely.

Does he have any idea what he does to me?

He couldn't possibly.

He's only twelve.

His eyes shine as he looks at the menu, then he peeks shyly at me, asking what he's allowed.

Doesn't he know I would never refuse him anything?

He bites his lip as I tell him he can have whatever he likes.

Whatever.

For he already owns my soul.

A gangly sixteen year old boy comes to take our order, stumbling over his words as Harry looks up at him. My blood boils as Harry smiles shyly at him and asks for a cherry soda.

Harry should never look at anyone but me like that.

The boy blushes and nods, backing away and tripping over a chair, and Harry giggles brightly.

Then he turns to look at me, and that smile falters at the look on my face. I say nothing, but Harry frowns at me, pursing his lips in a way that makes me weak with desire even as I am gripped by my jealousy.

Harry stands and makes his way around the table as I watch him closely. As if to make amends he asks to sit on my lap. Normally I wouldn't allow such a thing in public, but I'm feeling particularly possessive today and want to make my claim on Harry plain. I nod, and Harry smiles his sunniest smile as he clambers into my lap.

If I didn't know better, I would think that the boy deliberately rubs against my hard cock every chance he gets, much more than the simple act of climbing into a lap requires. By the time he is settled happily, legs across my lap and his side leaning against me, my arousal is positively aching.

Harry rocks slightly as he talks to me of innocuous things, so that his hip caresses me rhythmically, ensuring that most of my attention is captured by the friction I feel. Again, he couldn't possibly know what he does to me.

He's driving me mad.

Harry's soda arrives, delivered by the same boy, who stammers and nearly spills it. Harry shifts on my lap so that his back is to me, so he can drink it, amid much more wiggling that makes me nearly moan out loud.

The boy backs away after delivering the soda, his eyes dropping, and suddenly I can see why. In Harry's shifting, he's let his skirt ride up even higher, so the pleated material barely covers him to mid thigh. His legs are parted, and I just know the boy can see quite a way up Harry's skirt from his angle.

Harry fastens his delicate lips around the straw unconcernedly, and begins to suck the sugary liquid into his mouth, making sounds of contentment that are almost unbearably sensual. My erection is pressed against his firm little ass, and I have the almost unquenchable urge to take him, here, now.

But I cannot, nor can I do anything about the eyeful the teenage boy is getting. No doubt he will disappear into the toilets soon to relieve himself, thoughts of Harry on his filthy mind.

MY Harry.

Finally, Harry turns to me, his lips pink and sticky from the soda, and he licks them repeatedly as he tells me he's finished.

And thanks me.

I must get him out of here, and now, before I explode.

Harry takes my hand as we leave the shop, and I can barely walk with my raging erection. I must take him, and soon, and my home is too far.

The school is very close, though, and I nearly moan at the thought of taking Harry within its hallowed rooms.

Yes.

I lead Harry across the now-deserted lawns, carefully manicured as always, and my hands nearly shake as I fumble to unlock the side door.

No one roams the hallways as I pull Harry, unresisting, toward my classroom. I close and lock the door behind us, and move to close the blinds. I go and sit behind my desk, and call Harry to stand in front of the desk. He does, standing as still as it possible for him to be, his hands twisted together in front of him, one leg twisted so his foot points in, his pink tongue licking at his lips as if he had missed a bit of his soda.

He is perfect. I relish the image for a long moment before I speak, telling him he's been very naughty, enticing the boys and acting wantonly.

He goes very still as I say this, his eyes wide and his bottom lip just beginning to pout. I know he wants to protest but he daren't interrupt me or contradict me. I tell him that all the boys would want to see beneath his skirt, but only I am allowed to see his lacy knickers.

And I want to see them now. I want to see him take them off for me.

He raises his skirt up shyly, slowly, and I almost groan from the anticipation. His thighs are strong and smooth, disappearing into those silky lacy white knickers. He holds his skirt up so I can have a good long look, and I have to rub my arousal through my trousers because I'm so hard and wet. I can clearly see his young cock through the thin material, and I can also clearly see that he is quite aroused. He blushes as I look upon him, but he cannot deny he likes my eyes upon him. I am staring at the evidence.

He knows I like a show, so he slowly turns and bends over slightly, pulling the skirt up, and the lacy knickers pull up even higher. God, yes, I can see his cleft through the thin material, right where I want to be...

I barely recognise my own voice as I roughly command him to lower the knickers. I need him so badly I am trembling with the effort to hold back, but I also crave the anticipation. Harry's obedience is absolute as he hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls them down, exposing his perfect smooth bottom to me. Mine. I'm fumbling with the fastenings of my trousers before I can stop myself, my hand wrapping around my aching length desperately. How can the boy do this to me so easily?

Harry bends deeply, legs spread just so, giving me tantalising glimpses of what I want. Finally, I get up out of the chair, ripping off my robes and nearly stumbling around the desk toward him. I tell him to take off the knickers and bend over the desk, and then he's standing there, waiting for me, looking over his shoulder, asking me to hurry.

Harry wants me to hurry. He reaches behind himself and spreads his bottom apart, exposing his very pink entrance to me. Through his parted legs I can just see his flushed, plump balls. He begs, spreading himself open to me, almost sobbing in his need.

Fumbling for the tube of lubricant I carry with me at all times, I step behind Harry, feasting my eyes on the nubile boy offering himself to me, skirt pulled up, all mine. I coat my fingers and run them down his cleft, savoring his whimpers as I tease that pink wanton entrance, rubbing my slick thumb over it, not entering.

Harry is sobbing now, hands clenched on the edge of the desk and I cannot wait; roughly, I prepare him, all the while he begs for more. Bent over the desk, skirt pulled up, he's ready for me, and I coat my neglected cock and do what I have been aching for all day.

Spreading Harry's bottom apart with one hand, I guide my cock with the other, pushing past that tight ring into tight hot heaven. Harry gasps, but it's not with pain and suddenly he pushes back, impaling himself fully on my cock. I'm nearly undone by his gripping body and the sweet sounds he makes, and it's all I can do to hold still while he adjusts.

But my Harry will have none of it, and deliberately tightens himself around the cock deep inside him, ripping away my control, spurring me to thrust raggedly into him.

This is what Harry craves; making me lose control, lose my veneer of superiority, lose my mantle of respectability. This is what he turns me into, a rutting animal, deprived of my humanity. Yet, as I thrust into his sinful, forbidden body, I know I can no more stop, resist his charms, than I can stop my heart beating.

I reach around his slim body to wrap my long fingers around his cock, and he screams my name and tightens even more. A few more thrusts and strokes and Harry is coming, screaming at the top of his lungs and clawing at the desktop.

I look down at the boy leaning over my desk, his skirt pulled up as I fuck him, and my climax claims me as well, and I know in my heart that I would die if Harry ever left me.

We collapse on the desk together, and he rolls over and smiles at me, snuggling up to me.

Something this good could never be wrong.