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Title: A Game of Screaming
Author: iulia_linnea
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Severus Snape, Harry/Draco, other pairings and characters
Length: 4589 words
Warnings (Highlight to view): For sex-switch, non-con, and possession.
Summary: Draco wants to hear Harry scream. So does Severus.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers, including, but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: Thank you, julia_fractal, for beta'ing.

After leaving the latest—and most pointless to date—of the Order of the Phoenix meetings that the headmaster continued to insist he attend, Hogwarts' Potions master had returned to his rooms and proceeded to become thoroughly pissed.

It was a state in which he increasingly found himself since Lucius had thrown him out of his bed, and Albus had begun to dismiss his concerns out of hand.

"You cannot be sure of your theory, dear boy," the man had said as the meeting had wound down, "for Lucius Malfoy no longer trusts you enough to verify your suspicions. And, in any case, the rite to which you are suggesting that Voldemort wishes to subject Harry has never been successfully conducted. Do not worry. The boy is quite safe here."

The remainder of his evening, the Potions master had dwelled on his growing sense of unease and uselessness, drinking just enough of the gift of wine that Narcissa had presented to him on his recent birthday to feel his frustration less, and his loneliness more.

At about three in the morning, unable to sleep, the man left his rooms to patrol—a bit unsteadily—the halls of the school. He hoped he would find someone—anyone—to torment.

I need to give a detention.

Soon enough, he heard the tell-tale sounds of an unauthorized, osculatory outing.

Severus Snape was not a patient man, but he did permit his Slytherins a certain latitude in their personal dealings with members of Hogwarts' other Houses, so long as they remained discreet. But there was nothing circumspect about shagging a boy against the damp wall of a corridor—a boy whose tie in Gryffindor colors was lying neglected at the professor's feet.

The impatience of youth, he thought sourly, stooping to scoop up the tie. Idiots! he chastised the heedless couple. There are storerooms here!

The Potions master housed his infrequently used ingredients in the rooms along this corridor, which was why he was surprised that any member of his House would think of using it for an assignation.

When he saw who one of the boys was, however, he nearly dropped the tie in shock.

Draco Malfoy was pounding another student—whom Severus presumed was male, for the legs wrapped around Draco were certainly well-developed and of a pleasing masculine cast—into the alcove before him. His face was twisted into a rictus of amorous exertion, and beads of sweat ran down it to drip onto his tantalizingly naked chest, which had been exposed by an apparently hasty half-undressing. The boy's trousers and y-fronts pooled over his shoes. Examining the pile of clothing nearby, Severus inferred that the other boy was completely nude. His trousers became deliciously tight at the thought. He decided not to disturb the pair—yet.

Severus slid one of his hands under his robes and caressed the length of his hardening cock while he observed the lovers' erotic play before him, his eyes caught on the undulation of Draco's hips and arse.

Such stamina, he thought, biting back a groan as his appreciation for the benefits of Quidditch-playing grew with his erection.

"Oh, you . . . are . . . so . . . tight, oh, so hot . . . ah, I . . . ah, yes, yes, yes!" Draco cried as he pushed his partner all the way into the alcove, holding the other boy up in spite of his orgasm.

Severus watched the Slytherin, impressed by the boy's strength, as his own breath began to match Draco's ragged heaves and he came.

The other boy was silent.

Disappointing, that, thought Severus, adjusting himself a bit and ignoring his slightly sticky hand. The cleaning spell will have to wait.

"Why?" Draco asked, lowering his lover to the stone bench that the Potions master knew to be in the alcove.

Severus had to strain to hear the whispered reply.

"Why, what?"

"Why don't you ever make any noise? Don't you like it?"

"Of course I do."

Draco picked up his wand from the pile of clothing, still breathing a bit hard, and spelled himself clean before pulling up his trousers.

"Then why no noise?"

The other boy stood up, his back to the Potions master, and Severus ducked back a bit as Draco looked down at his friend.

Dark hair—Zabini?—No, too short, besides, Zabini wouldn't have a Gryffindor tie.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I . . . I guess I'm just used to being quiet."

Malfoy reached out a hand and cupped the boy's cheek. "Raised in a closet by Muggles . . . if I weren't fucking you, I wouldn't believe it, Harry."

Severus dropped the tie he was still holding in his clean hand. Potter? Draco Malfoy and . . . Potter?

The man realized that he had been entirely too hasty in his assessment of the Slytherin's capability for discretion.

Harry leaned into Draco, wrapping his arms around the boy and sighing. "I know it's not like being with Pansy. I'm sorry."

Draco snorted. "I have to shag her. . . . I want to shag you."

"Even if I don't scream like a girl?"

"Even if, you idiot," Draco replied, kissing Potter's head and then kneeling down to reach for the boy's clothes. "Here, we'd best get going. Snape comes down here sometimes."

"He'd take most of your points if he found out."

"Be serious, Potter—he'd take all of your points."

"Better points than balls. . . . Hey, have you seen my tie?"

As the two Seventh Years laughed lightly and dressed, Severus walked quickly down the corridor and ducked into one of the storerooms, listening at the door as the two boys left. He was unnerved, a bit embarrassed, and, he had to admit, curious.

For Severus had always despised Lucius' son as a bully, and Potter for a pompous fool, but what he had just observed forced him to rethink his assessment of both young men.

Draco was gentle and affectionate with Potter. . . . And the Boy Who Lived is a poof—a submissive poof at thata poof conditioned not to scream during sex.

It was an interesting situation, to be sure, and Severus found that he had a great deal to think about that night.

He did not sleep.

During the tedious meeting, Albus had asked him if he knew when Draco was due to take the Dark Mark, but, given his recent estrangement from his lover—or "contact," as he referred to Lucius when discussing him with the headmaster—Severus had not been able to answer the question.

But I wonder . . . surely Potter wouldn't have anything to do with Draco if he thought . . . .

The Potions master decided that he would have to investigate matters more thoroughly. He began his task by taking to his bed and replaying the evidence he had witnessed in his mind's eye.

Three nights later, Draco and Harry were back in the corridor. Severus returned, as well, casting a charm on himself that would permit him to observe the couple more closely. This time, Draco transfigured the stone bench into a small cot.

"Is that better, love?" he asked Harry gently, laying the boy down carefully and smacking Harry's hands away so that he could undress him himself.

"But I want to help."

"Touching you helps, Harry. Let me do it for you. . . . No one ever has," Draco said wonderingly, running his splayed palms over the expanse of glowing pale skin that was Harry's chest.

Shit. He wants to save him, thought Severus, ignoring his new-sprung erection. Potter's not a princess!

But the boy was beautiful, even looking so much like James. There was enough of Lily Evans in him to make him appear something approaching the dewy, needy damsel that Draco seemed to desire.

"Harry, I'm going to fuck you so slowly that you'll have to cry out tonight."

Potter bit his lip. "Draco . . . I . . . Draco," the boy said emphatically as Malfoy slid one hand inside of his unzipped fly.

"Do you like that? When I cup your balls? Twist them? Tease them? Hmm?"

Harry squeezed his hands into fists, but said nothing.

It never occurred to Severus, as he watched Draco make excruciatingly slow love to Potter, to interrupt. Harry's breath hitched, became explosive, but nothing the Slytherin did to him made him cry out.

Severus was as desperate to hear the boy scream as Draco was after only four weeks of spying on their trysts.

He did not sleep.

Instead, he laid awake in his bed—his hands becoming Draco's, his flesh, Harry's—as he traced the same patterns over his nipples, down his chest to his belly before grasping his cock to stroke it with the same slow, deliberate care that the Slytherin always bestowed upon the Gryffindor, each time feeling a pang of neglect as his orgasm threatened to overwhelm him.

Lucius never sought to pleasure me like that, like this—oh!

Of course, he had never given the man a reason to try.

Releasing his spent cock, the Potions master decided that something had to be done about Potter's lack of sexual theatricality.

At once.

There were at least four potions that came to mind.

But before Severus could give much attention to the matter, he was summoned to Malfoy Manor. He was so surprised by it that he left Hogwarts without a word to Albus.

"What news?" he asked Lucius, as he dusted the floo powder off of his sleeves.

"Our Lord demands a sacrifice," Malfoy told him without preamble.

"Oh?"

"Because Draco refused to attend the last . . . gathering, to which, as you know, he was invited, Lord Voldemort requires his Marking Ceremony to take place over the Christmas holiday."

"But if the boy is unwilling, the process will kill him," Severus said, concern evident in his tone.

"I know."

"What will you do?"

"Provide him with another unwilling boy."

"Potter is too well-guarded," Severus said quickly.

"Not so well-guarded that you cannot get to him."

"Yes, and I await Lord Voldemort's orders to seize the brat. If I take him now, my use as a spy in Dumbledore's camp will be destroyed."

"I will not allow my son to die."

"I will not allow myself to die."

The other wizard glared at him briefly before altering his expression. "Severus, please—you must help me," Lucius pleaded desperately.

Severus started at the man's tone. Malfoys never pleaded, and they were seldom desperate.

Damnation, will he never tire of testing my loyalty? Severus thought bitterly, as such a "test" had all but ended his . . . friendship with the man. But rather than argue, he affected an affronted mein and demanded, "What are you playing at?"

"Nothing. I am merely appealing to your sense of decency."

My sense of what? Lucius has never appealed to me—for any reason, Severus thought as he drew his wand. "Narcissa," he said dourly, how did you manage this . . . disguise?"

The "man" before him cringed and shimmered, and then the lady of the house was staring at him with imploring eyes. "Severus, please," she whispered, "I'm begging you. Help me save my son."

"Where is Lucius?"

"He's meeting . . . people. I don't know where. I . . . I'm sorry, but I thought if only you'd—"

"Narcissa, you're going to get yourself killed," he replied sternly, not lowering his wand.

"Voldemort is going to want Potter soon."

"Yes, to possess the boy, I know. But he does not want Potter now. I ask you again, how did you affect this . . . change?"

"I . . . I used Polyjuice," Narcissa admitted.

"It did not work very long, did it?"

The woman blushed. "We're not all Potions masters, are we? But what I propose for Draco is an ancient curse, something permanent, something that will help to hide him from Lord Voldemort. I could teach it to you, and you could help me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Voldemort will kill Draco for his disobedience, Severus. There isn't anywhere my son might hide, but . . . ."

"But what? What?" the wizard said, watching Narcissa's eyes well up with tears as he picked up her thoughts. "Are you insane? You propose to alter your son's sex?"

"What else can I do, Severus? I don't want my child to die!"

It suddenly occurred to Severus that what Lord Voldemort wanted from Potter was not his magic back, but a vessel for all of it. But what if I broke the vessel? If Potter were no longer the Boy Who Lived . . . .

"I thought you would understand."

"I do. I, too, have no desire to see Draco die. Teach me this curse, Narcissa, and I will employ it in such a way as to prevent all our deaths." And also in a way that will afford me Albus' respect, and some measure of reward for my loyalty.

Severus returned to Hogwarts so late that there was no time to sleep, but he was not tired. He needed to find Draco and Harry.

The boys were asleep in the corridor, though one who was not casting an anti-See-Me-Not spell would not have noticed them curled against one another on the transfigured cot.

In the dim light from the torch at the head of the corridor, Potter looked like a darkling nymph, safe in his elvish lord's arms.

Voyeurism has made me ridiculous, Severus thought, stealthily approaching the sleeping pair.

He regretted that he had missed their "game," but he expected there might be a rematch of sorts soon. Murmuring the curse that Narcissa had taught him, he watched in fascination as Potter's thick, black, tangled hair curled into long ringlets against the pillow to spill over Draco's protective arm. Potter's skin remained as fine as Severus had ever imagined it would feel, but he knew it would be even smoother after the spell had done its work. The boy shifted fitfully as his pectoral muscles softened and transformed into a pair of pert breasts with pink-brown nipples that hardened enticingly. And then he gasped through a fuller mouth and bucked hard, his hips thrusting against the light coverlet.

Severus could see the girl's hipbones outlined by the fabric.

It's done, he thought, casting an inebriation charm on the two still-sleeping lovers, one that provided the objects of its magic a feeling of being pleasantly heedless of all concerns.

He knew, of course, that he should not have bespelled Potter without his permission, without asking Albus, but he did not care. With the Yuletide season fast-approaching, the gift of his alteration seemed an appropriate thing to provide the boy whom Draco loved. And Severus saw no other way to prevent Voldemort from possessing the boy, for nothing he had seen of Harry Potter's "abilities" had impressed him as being proof enough against the Dark Lord's magic.

No, this way is better. It will not damage Potter, it will give him an advantage over Voldemort, and perhaps now she will scream for us.

With that thought reverberating in his mind like the voice of a tempter, the Potions master conjured a chair and woke the lovers, secure in the knowledge that they would not notice him.

Not when they discover Potter's new charms.

She awoke first, curling herself around Draco's body and giggling. "Mmm, s'late."

"No, it's early," Draco answered, rolling over and pulling the girl on top of himself. "Wha—? Harry, you're squishy."

"Oh, sorry," the girl said, attempting to roll back to the cot, but Draco stopped her.

"No, I mean, you're . . . you've . . . grown breasts."

Severus held his breath.

"I . . . hey! You're right," she said, pushing herself up so that she was straddling her lover and cupping herself. "Ooo . . .
that's . . . that's nice," Harry said, fascinated by the change she had just undergone.

"Gods, I'm dreaming."

"Do these feel like dreams, Draco?" Potter asked, playfully laying herself on top of the boy and rubbing her hardened nipples against his chest.

The boy groaned.

"Like that?"

"Yes."

Harry slowly drew herself down Draco's body until her breasts sank around the boy's straining prick. "What have we here?"

Draco thrust upward and through Harry's breasts. "Please," he urged.

"I know what you want. You want me to take these and squeeze your cock between them. You want," she said, dipping her head to meet the boy's thrusts with a wet kiss to his head before completing her thought, "me to fuck you with my brea . . . ea . . . sts," she told him, laughing through the word.

Yes, Severus thought emphatically, suddenly quite pleased with Narcissa—for she had also taught him the inebriation charm that was having such a delightful effect on Potter.

"Do it, Harry."

The girl obeyed her lover's order at once. Licking her palms and rubbing her nipples while the boy moaned his appreciation, she slid into a comfortable position and held her breasts against the purpling length of Draco's cock. He fucked the tunnel of her soft flesh slowly, gasping every time Harry sucked the head of his prick when it pushed out the top of it.

Oh, yes . . . yes, Severus thought, silently echoing Draco's cries as he worked his own weeping cock, his hips moving in increasingly erratic jerks.

Severus and Draco came at almost the same moment, but the Potions master's cries went unheeded.

Harry laughed and dragged herself up Draco's body to kiss him. The contact, Severus saw through hooded eyes, was already causing the boy's prick to twitch.

I love the impatience of youth.

"What do you want, now?" the girlish, breathy voice of Potter whispered against Draco's neck.

"I want to be inside of you, Harry. Let me?"

"You know you never have to ask."

"Tell me, Harry," Draco urged, his voice heavy with need.

Severus' eyes followed the boy's hands to Potters dark curls. The scent of sex permeated the corridor as Draco began to stroke her sex.

"Sssst!" she hissed. "Oh!"

"Please, Harry. Tell me 'yes'."

"Oh, yes . . . Dra—oh."

Severus was pleased. That was only one finger. Use two—make her scream for us, boy!

As if Draco could hear him, he deftly inserted another finger inside of Harry and began to move them in and out with the familiar rhythm that Severus so loved to watch.

Harry whimpered.

Severus wanted to.

"You do like that, don't you? But I know you can take more."

"Oh, gods," Harry whispered, sucking on her lip to prevent herself from screaming as Draco inserted another finger.

When he began to move the pad of his thumb over her clitoris, the girl bucked so hard that Draco almost lost his rhythm. But he was a Malfoy, and not without resources.

"Put your hands above your head, and don't move, Harry," he ordered, contorting himself so that he was twisting half off the bed and reaching for his wand while continuing to fuck her with his fingers.

"It's . . . it's . . . oh, oh, oh, Draco. Oh, please . . . I, oh I . . . ," Harry babbled, trying to obey him.

Draco grasped his wand and then pointed it at his lover's wrists and cried, "Adstringo!"

Suddenly, Harry's wrists were invisibly drawn together and bound. "Wha—?" she tried to ask before a fit of giggles took her.

Oh, how I love that charm! Severus exclaimed inwardly, feeling somewhat intoxicated himself.

Draco's only response was to sit up and move the girl's legs apart with his knees, but not for one moment did he cease plunging his dripping fingers up inside of Harry.

I was never that limber, the Potions master thought in genuine appreciation.

Potter moaned hers.

"Harry, tell me what you want."

"Oh, Dra—I want—Dra—oh."

The boy's hand slowed. "What was that?" he teased, drawing his fingers out and caressing the folds of Potter's sex.

"Nnnn," she protested, falling back on the bed.

Draco moved to cover her body with his own. "You have to ask, love. Tell me what you want. Tell me, or I'll stop."

No! Severus inwardly exclaimed.

"No," Harry said at the same moment. "Fuck me, Draco—please. Cock. Pussy. Fuck." she managed, drawing her legs up around the boy's torso and attempting to pull him inside of her.

Yes, an excellent idea, Snape thought, his own prick once again filled to hardness. "Fuck her, Draco," he said without thinking.

The boy turned as if he had been expecting this order. "But wouldn't you like to do that, Professor? After all, you've gone to so much trouble."

Severus froze, his hand wrapped in a fist around his cock.

Harry whimpered again, uncaring of their audience. "Please, someone fuck me."

I can't fuck Harry Potter, the Potions master thought, saying, "I did it for you, Draco."

"And I'm grateful," the boy drawled, "but I've never really cared for girls. You fuck her, Severus."

No, this is . . . wrong, Severus thought, trying to understand why Draco was suddenly aware of him, why the boy was suddenly so eager to see someone else take his lover. But then he looked at Harry.

The girl locked eyes with him, and the man felt all of his reservations fade in the face of her sultry, unspoken plea.

Please? Please fuck me, Severusss?

The Potions master could almost hear the girl's response in his head as he shucked his kit and shoved Draco aside in his haste to run his hands down Potter's sweat-glistened flesh. He was much too deeply glorying in the hot rush of lust that sped through his body to care about the failure of his various spells.

The important one had worked.

"Perfect. You're perfect, Harry," he told her, feeling quite like he was watching the girl through someone else's eyes. But he did not think on that, not when he could pinch her nipples and revel in the tiny, inward gasps she made for him. "I want to hear you scream."

Draco laughed. "Make her. Make Harry scream, Sev'rus," he slurred in drunken appreciation.

The man shook his head at the wet, green eyes that silently implored him and tried to think. Is the inebriation spell still working? But . . . sod it! he told himself, feeling as if he had been charmed into heedlessness.

"Go on," Draco urged.

This is like a dream, Severus thought, but I made it happen. And I will make you scream.

He fell upon the girl and took her mouth with his own then, swallowing any sounds she might have made as his hands roughly traveled up and down the curves of her body.

Soft, so soft and . . . hot, he thought, breaking his kiss to bite the tender flesh under Harry's ear.

"Ah!" she gasped.

It was not yet a scream. But the man knew he had time.

An imperious voice whispering in his mind told him so.

Severus traced the vein that ran from under Potter's ear down her neck with his tongue, and then moved to mouth her collarbone, nipping lightly at the skin between her breasts.

"Oh, oh, Severus, yes."

The skin between the girl's breasts was salty, and a stabbing desire rushed to his cock as he remembered that Draco's seed had contributed to the taste. Severus licked lightly and slowly all the way down to Potter's belly, enjoying the tang of the other man on his tongue.

So like Lucius!

"I don't hear her screaming," Draco reproached him.

"Severus," Harry ground from behind clenched teeth as the man fastened his lips on the demanding nub of her clitoris and sucked it as hard as he could, gradually opening his mouth until he had enveloped the entirety of her sex.

Draco laughed. "Very nice, Severus. . . . Show him you like it, Harry."

"I . . . oh, it's too much, I, I can't!" she yelled.

But yelling was not truly screaming, Severus knew, feeling oddly unconcerned that the girl tasted of fear. Fear and magic. His every nerve was aflame as he drew in Harry's essence, almost as if he were drinking her soul.

But you must claim her properly, the quiet voice told him amidst the inflamed cries of the girl and the cold laughter of the boy.

"Yes!" Severus cried, moving swiftly to thrust his prick as deeply into Harry as her body would allow.

He dimly heard her protests echoing in the corridor while he rammed his hips against hers, and gasped as he felt the grip of her interior muscles spasm against his prick.

"Againssst usss," a hoarse, familiar voice acknowledged—through Severus' own lips.

"NOOO!" Potter shrieked in terror.

"Yesss!" Severus hissed in triumph.

His hips jerked in a fast and unfamiliar rhythm, almost as if they were controlled by another consciousness. He knew that he was hurting Harry, but he did not care.

I did it! I made her scream. "Gah!" he exclaimed in orgasmic triumph, collapsing atop the girl—who wound her arms around him.

"Wha—what? But you're bou . . . ound," Severus gasped into Harry's neck.

The girl's body undulated with silent laughter beneath him.

"I am bound by no man," the cold, familiar voice of the Dark Lord answered him.

"My gods—my . . . Lord? Lord Voldemort?" Severus choked out, breathing heavily.

"Yes, my servant?" Harry Potter's feminine voice spoke in his ear. "Did you enjoy that, Severusss?"

The man pulled away in horror from "Harry," who was gazing up at him with red eyes, and smiling in a sweet, innocent-looking manner.

"Would you like me to play a game of ssscreaming with you?"

Severus would have jerked himself off of the bed, but the press of cold hands against his back made him gasp and freeze.

"Don't be shy now, Severus. I haven't had my turn."

"Draco . . . please," the Potions master pleaded, recoiling from the feathery caress of feminine fingertips against his sides from beneath him, and the rougher texture of the hands pressing into him from behind. "Let me go."

A harder, deeper voice spoke into his ear, then. "But why? Haven't you been lonely? Haven't you been wishing for company? For my company?" the voice, now Lucius', asked. "Or is it Mother's that you would prefer?"

"I have never touched Narcissa!"

"Would you like to?" asked Narcissa's voice then, as a long fingertip caressed the vein behind Severus' right ear and down his neck before clawing into his flesh and drawing blood. "Or would you prefer it if she touched you?"

"Who are you?" the man implored, stunned, shaken, and uncomprehending.

The finger was joined by others, and they pressed into Severus' throat and pulled him back toward the hard, male body with Narcissa's voice, while Lord Voldemort, wearing the female form of Harry Potter, dug her fingers into his thighs.

"Oh, it's Draco, Severus, just Draco—but my Lord Voldemort has taught me how to play the games my parents enjoy as a reward for my seduction of you."

"No—you seduced Potter."

Of course I did. How else could I have positioned you for the Rite of Transference?"

"What . . . what are you talking about?"

Draco laughed. "The Rite of Transference, Severus, the rite about which you warned that idiot, Dumbledore," the boy explained, pulling the older wizard against himself more firmly. "Lord Voldemort could not have used me as a transitional vessel through which to enter Potter, for I do not yet bear the Dark Mark. No, for that we needed you, and you were so eager to join our game, weren't you?"

"No," Severus choked out in desperation, unable to move before Draco shoved him down on top of Voldemort's new body. "No—you loved Potter—you would not have done this to him!"

"To her, Severusss," the woman beneath him hissed.

The Potions master felt Draco drape himself atop his back, and then the boy whispered, "Oh, I did enjoy my games with Saint Potter, Professor, but I believe I'll have more fun playing with an old sinner like yourself."

"Yesss, yesss, he will," Voldemort assured the wizard, pulling the man's horror-struck face down toward his wet lips. "We both will. We will have you ssscreaming."