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Harry had been distracted lately, and the way things were right now, distraction was a bad thing. He was doing well enough teaching Dumbledore's army, but it wasn't challenging him personally. He needed to keep his own skills sharp, and he just couldn't concentrate.

People had noticed Harry's distraction, especially Ron and Hermione. Everyone thought it was quite normal given the circumstances, though, so he really didn't get questioned a lot.

He certainly couldn't tell them the real reason.

Well, part of it was obvious. He was a teenage boy and hormones were starting to assert themselves.

But they weren't doing so how they were meant to.

He'd thought he liked Cho. And he did, still. She was pretty and nice and all that, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he thought of...

He could barely bring himself to even think it.

He shook his head, and strode even more purposefully down the hallway toward the Room of Requirement. He needed to train, to practice the new spells he would need.

If only he could assuage his other needs...

He came to a halt and tried to concentrate on what he needed the Room to be.

The door flickered into view, and Harry smiled as he stepped forward to open it. He walked in confidently, and the door closed behind him with a soft snick.

The Room was darker than it usually was. That was odd. The only light came from a few candles scattered at intervals around the bed and...

Wait.

Bed?

He hadn't been thinking of a bed. And certainly not a bed like this, a huge four poster made of very sturdy looking wood, the better to support the handcuffs hanging from it, one set from each corner...

Handcuffs?

Well, he had seen this bed before. In his dreams. He blushed though he was all alone. His heart raced as he thought about his dreams. They were very vivid. He stepped closer to the bed, seeing it in his mind's eye, and sure enough, next to the bed on a table sat a tube of lubricating gel.

Clearly, his subconscious had been focused on the wrong thing when he called the Room into being.

And now he was hard again, damn it. He sighed. There was no way he was going to get any practicing done now. Not in this room, not when he was this aroused. All he could think of was... His hand snuck beneath his robes to rub at his aching cock. His head fell back as he touched himself, as he imagined that deep, forbidding voice, purring at him...

"Potter, just what do you think you are doing?"

Harry's eyes flew open and he whirled to face the door. "Snape!" This wasn't part of his fantasy. Well, it was, but...

"*Professor* Snape," the tall, dark-haired man snapped in annoyance.

Harry realized he was still touching himself and he moved his hand away quickly. "Professor Snape," he stammered, blushing scarlet.

"Answer the question!" Snape growled, advancing on Harry.

Harry backed up a step. "I, well, I came here, this Room, it... well it..."

"I know full well what this Room is, do you seriously think you're the first to discover it?"

Harry had thought he was, actually, but he didn't mention it. Snape went on before he could frame an intelligent response. God, the man's voice... that sneer...

"Really, Potter, handcuffs? How quaint," Snape said, eyeing the bed.

Harry had thought he'd reached the height of mortification by now, but he was wrong. There really was nothing he could say to save face. Snape knew about the room, so he knew that this was what Harry wanted.

But wait.

The room was only for the person who conceived it, so how could Snape have gotten in?

Snape was frowning, evidently reaching that conclusion at the same time. He turned to gaze at Harry. "Potter..." he said silkily, stepping toward him.

"Y-yes, Professor Snape sir?" Harry squeaked, backing up until he hit the very solid bed at his back. He knew how Snape had gotten in. He could get in because Harry wanted him here.

In this room.

With the bed.

And the handcuffs.

And the lube.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Harry wanted, and Snape was very smart. A slow, evil smile spread over his sharp features.

"Well, well, Potter. Who would have guessed?"

Who indeed? Who would believe that instead of hating his nemesis, his greasy Potions master, Harry harbored a deep-seated, kinky need to be tied up and fucked thoroughly by him?

Snape slipped closer, but Harry couldn't move. And he really didn't want to. His heart was hammering, his palms were sweating and he was hard as the proverbial rock.

And he loved it.

Snape loomed above him, all dark robes and glower, and evil intent lurked in his eyes.

Or so Harry hoped.

Now Snape was bare inches from him and it was all Harry could do to stop from begging. "Please," escaped from his lips.

"Please what?" Snape mused, looking down at the boy. "Please don't report you to the headmaster for misuse of Hogwarts facilities for you own twisted aims?" He paused, then went on, voice soft and dark and rich. "Or please tie you to the bed and fuck you hard?"

Harry sobbed, his cock pulsing so much that he was sure he'd just come in his pants. This was so far beyond his juvenile fantasies that he could barely process it. But oh god, it was perfect. "Both," he finally managed to croak. "But especially that last bit."

Snape laughed. It wasn't something Harry had ever heard before, especially not like that. It was dark and rich and it made Harry's nipples hard too. He was panting now.

"I would be incredulous but for the evidence of my own eyes," Snape finally said, gazing down at Harry. "This is truly what you want?"

Harry nodded, swallowing hard. His voice croaked as he said, "Yes. I meant for the room to be something else, but I guess it read my deepest desires..."

Snape nodded, then said in a surprisingly soft voice, "But sometimes we really don't want our deepest desires fulfilled."

Harry realized Snape was giving him an out. They could walk away from this and never speak of it. He did consider it, briefly. But then his cock throbbed, making his knees weak, and he said in the strongest voice he could muster given the circumstances, "I want this. I want you."

Snape's breath caught. "You're a very naughty boy, Potter," he purred, and his voice washed over Harry like a sexual tide.

"Oh god yes, I am," agreed Harry eagerly. Only the bed was holding him upright now; his whole body was trembling.

"Naughty boys need to be punished, as you know," Snape went on.

Harry had to press on his cock to keep from coming in his pants at that. He thought he might have whimpered an answer, he wasn't sure. Snape just chuckled. Then he spoke.

"Get your robes off, Mr. Potter. You'll be in even more trouble if you can't control yourself and soil them."

Harry had never got undressed so quickly. He was past caring about how it looked to Snape, how eager and childish he seemed. Clearly the older man had no problem with it. He stood there, naked, trembling and so very hard, before Snape's dispassionate gaze.

It was the hottest thing he'd ever imagined. Especially as he watched Snape look him over, like an object. He wanted Snape to look at him that way, he'd dreamed of it. He wanted to be a toy to be used by the Potions master. And by the look on Snape's face, that's just what he wanted as well.

"Lovely," purred Snape, looking his fill. "Turn around, bend over. Show me everything."

There was molten lust running through Harry's veins now, and he did as he was told. His cock throbbed dangerously as he bent over the bed, spreading his legs apart. He moaned out loud.

"I said, *show me*," snapped the older man.

Harry swallowed hard. He knew, inherently, what Snape wanted. He reached back with trembling hands and pulled his buttocks apart, exposing his most intimate regions to Snape's view. The cool of the air hit his tender, untouched flesh, and he knew he was seconds away from coming. He was open, vulnerable to Snape in the most basic way.

And he loved every second of it.

"Why Mr. Potter, you're *panting*," Snape purred. Harry could hear the slight growl in his voice though, and he knew what it meant. Snape wanted this as much as he did.

"Yes, professor, sir," Harry breathed. He had no problem being obsequious now. In fact he craved it. He kept himself spread open, his entrance throbbing with need, his balls drawn up tight. Then he cried out as he felt Snape's elegant fingers on him. Touching him, oh god. In his most private places. Snape was spreading him open even wider, inspecting him, running a thumb over the puckered flesh. Running his fingers down his cleft to touch his balls, feeling them, then back up to rub circles around his entrance. His hand stole to his own cock.

"No," came the dreaded words. "Did I tell you you could touch yourself, you insolent little slut? Look at you, opening yourself to me so brazenly. I could do anything I wanted to you, absolutely anything, did you know that?"

"Oh god yes," sobbed Harry. He had no pride left nor did he want any. All he wanted were more touches, anything at all this man wanted of him. His fantasies had brought him here, but they hadn't done justice to the reality. Not even close.

Snape used his fingers to stretch the skin around Harry's entrance, making him feel even more exposed if possible. One warm finger pressed against the tight ring, and he shuddered. "Please, sir, I can't..."

A rustle of fabric came to his ears, then Snape's voice came from lower behind him. "You may touch yourself, and come," he said, then Harry's world dissolved into liquid heat as something hot and wet licked around his entrance.

He might have squealed, he wasn't sure, and for a moment he forgot he was allowed to touch himself as, oh god, it was Snape's *tongue* and it was pressing inside him. It was nothing he'd ever imagined and without conscious will his hand was on his cock, stroking desperately and without finesse as his world consisted only of deep, hot, wet pleasure.

Then there was ecstasy so intense that he nearly blacked out, and then strong arms were around him, keeping him from collapsing to the ground.

"Speechless at last," the self-satisfied voice purred, and Harry forced his eyes open to behold Snape's face, gazing almost benignly down at him.

"More," he begged. "Please, sir, want you to tie me up and fuck me hard, use me, oh god, want your cock," Harry's words all came out in a tumble before he lost his nerve.

"So much for speechless," Snape replied, but his voice sounded strangled and his fingers had tightened on Harry.

Harry shifted in Snape's arms, pressing against him clumsily, wanting to feel his sexy professor's body. He gasped as the older man's arms tightened around him, sealing their bodies together. "Oh god..." Then Snape's elegant hands began to travel over Harry's sensitized body. Harry's eyes rolled back in his head as he surrendered to sensation. His cock had barely softened, and now it was standing at attention again.

Snape pulled him tight against him now, trapping Harry's erect cock between them, and now Harry could feel, pressing into his belly, a hard hot line that was... He whimpered as he realized Snape really was aroused for *him*. That was Snape's *cock*. The thought made his knees weak again and he leaned gratefully into the older man. "Harry," hissed Snape, and suddenly he was in the air. Snape carried him bodily to the bed, setting him on it.

Immediately, Harry stretched out on the bed, spreading his arms and legs out. Snape murmured something and the cuffs fastened around both ankles and wrists, and then he was helpless. And oh so aroused.

He wiggled a little, testing the cuffs, and though they gave enough that he wasn't in pain, he was most definitely immobilized. Just how he wanted it.

Snape looked approvingly down at him, then ran one long thin finger along his leg. "I won't gag you because I like to hear you beg," he breathed. Then he looked at the tube of lube with a sneer. "Honestly, Potter, are you a wizard or not?" Snape flicked his wand then set it down on the table.

Harry gasped and wriggled as a warm, wet sensation spread through his lower body, and he was, if anything, even more ready to be taken. His eyes were wide, but they widened further as Snape began to undress.

The older man's skin was sallow in the candlelight, and the dark mark stood out like a stain. But that didn't matter to Harry right now. All that mattered was the thick, long cock that jutted toward him, evidence of Snape's undeniable desire.

And he wanted to feel every inch of that desire.

"Please," he began to beg, eyes on Snape's cock as the now-naked man climbed onto the bed. Snape's inky hair brushed his pale shoulders as he settled between Harry's legs. Harry was panting softly.

Snape reached out and pushed his hands up the inside of Harry's thighs, opening him more. "Feel how helpless you are, Harry?" he purred. "I can do what I want with you now, and you couldn't stop me."

Harry couldn't imagine why he'd want Snape to stop, but the gravity of the situation did occur to him. Snape could still be the enemy, and he was as helpless as he could be in front of him. But that made it white hot. This was no game. He could be putting his life on the line for sexual thrills.

But right now he didn't care. The danger gave the whole thing a knife edge that Harry had lived with for years, and he craved it. "Do with me what you will," he panted. "Use me."

Snape nearly whimpered, and for a brief moment Harry *knew* Snape wanted this as much as he did. Then the older man's control was back, and he leaned down over Harry's body.

"Mine," Snape growled, just before Harry almost screamed, blunt hot pressure opening him, filling him, possessing him until his whole body was nothing but nerve endings.

Then he did scream lustily, not from pain but from agonizing pleasure, and nearly the best thing was looking up to see the passion on Snape's face as well.

Snape's mouth hung open, eyes almost shut, but Harry knew he was watching him. All he could do was take it, though, and that was just fine with him. Snape's hips snapped upwards, and that length impaled him again and again, and though he was tight there was no real pain. Just burning ecstasy that drove all thoughts from his mind, save "More."

It might have lasted hours or moments; Harry didn't know and he didn't care. His world was pleasure, filled with Snape's cock and helpless. Perfection.

Then there was a hand around his cock and he came, screaming until he was hoarse, pumping out hot seed over his stomach, every muscle trembling as he came so hard he cried.

Snape was crying out too, a guttural shout of Harry's name and a moan so sensual he knew he'd never forget it. Harry felt the heat inside him and spasmed a little more, the pleasure still blinding him.

Then his hands were free, and Snape was withdrawing from him, and he felt a little cold. But then a warm body lay next to him, and strong hands caressed him before drawing a blanket over them both.

"Sleep, Potter, you've earned it," a deep voice murmured in his ear.

And for once, Harry did as he was told.