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The forest smelled like home.
Harriet took another deep breath of the night air and smiled. Her nose twitched. The breeze carried a multilayered array of scents, and she knew every single one of them. The earthy smell of the forest floor, the slight decaying fragrance of leaves, the humid aroma of thick moss, the clear notes of a nearby pond, the musky traces of various animals—all part of the unique bouquet of the Forbidden Forest.
She knew those smells, and she loved them.
The tapestry of sounds animating the woods was equally familiar. Her ears flicked back and forth, catching bird calls, animals skittering around, the low bubbling of a stream, and a Threstral scratching at the ground somewhere on her right. There was a bird in particular who was producing ominous, mournful trills that rang like a funeral pall into the night. She thought it might have been an Augurey.
Above her, a sliver of moon hung in the velvet sky, casting pale, weak light onto the landscape. It was June and the day had been blisteringly hot, but here and now, under the trees after the midnight, it was cool enough for Harriet to get goosebumps.
She should have been in bed.
Instead, she was walking deeper and deeper into the Forbidden Forest, alone. She didn't need her wand to light the way. Her night vision was far better than before, allowing her to perceive everything in detail. Eyesight, sense of smell, of hearing—when her creature inheritance had triggered, it had brought about a lot of changes.
She had panicked at first. She'd woken up in mild pain, confused, her body throbbing in odd places. Hermione had calmed her down, and Ron had explained what was happening to her. Creature inheritances usually developed in the year preceding the wizard's or witch's coming of age. They were rare, but of course with Harriet's luck it had to happen to her.
She'd managed the change alright. She used a glamour to hide her large, furry doe ears, her flat nose and the soft white fur covering her belly and legs. No one at school had any idea, except maybe for Dumbledore, but he hadn't asked.
Maybe later, she'd go public about it. For now, it was too dangerous. Apparently wizarding society had all kind of stupid ideas about what creature inheritances meant and how they shaped an individual's personality. As a doe, Harriet would be seen as cute and submissive.
A prey.
Harriet's answer was, in short, fuck that. She wasn't a prey, and she wouldn't be constrained by outdated views.
The inheritance hadn't changed her life that much. It was useful in some ways. Her increased sense of smell made her better at Potions, allowing her to detect the freshest ingredients among all others, and her reflexes had been enhanced. On the flip side, there were nights where she just couldn't sleep, possessed by a restless kind of energy that demanded to be spent.
When that happened, she either made herself come until she couldn't see straight anymore, or she sneaked out to go run in the woods.
She had chosen the second option tonight.
The forest was alive around her, thrumming with scents and sounds and colors, and Harriet was home.
Bounding forward, she broke into a run.
*
Severus caught the scent again.
His nostrils flared, his head snapping right. Yes. It came from over there, from deeper into the forest. Sweet and floral, with an underlying aroma that called to mind the smell of moss just after rain, that scent had haunted him throughout the school year.
He knew it belonged to one of his students—to someone hiding a creature inheritance. Most likely someone whose animal was a prey, or he wouldn't have reacted that strongly to it. His instincts were howling at him, demanding he hunt the owner of that scent and made them submit. Instincts he had steadfastly ignored, of course.
People could write and say what they wanted about creature inheritances, could imagine they turned a wizard into a beast and stripped him of all control, but it wasn't true. His actions were his own. His world was simply colored by the wolf's perceptions, every second of every day.
He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent.
It was pure luck that he happened to be out in the forest tonight. Today had been hell, with no less than three students injuring themselves with a simple shield charm gone wrong, followed by a stack of essays that had been painful to mark, and he had needed some fresh air.
Good luck for him, bad luck for the unfortunate student.
Very well. This would be simple. He would hunt the wayward student who thought it was a good idea to wander the forest at this hour, he would bring them back to their common room, and he would dole out a month's worth of detentions.
A grin stretching his lips, he began to chase his prey, his nose guiding him.
The scent meandered, twisting through the trees, going down a steep incline and through a dense thicket, then veering left, toward a clearing Severus knew well. Bluebells flowers grew there in abundance, as well as stardew seeds, which made it a prime spot for gathering ingredients when he had to renew his annual stock.
He slowed down and crept forward, hunching low in the shadows.
He hadn't planned to scare the student, but perhaps a little fright would do them good after all. It would teach them not to act this foolishly. The Forbidden Forest teemed with far worse beasts than Severus.
A few more steps forward, and he sighted his prey.
She stood among a circle of bluebell flowers which spread out like splashes of liquid silver in the weak moonlight. Dark hair—pale skin—green eyes as she glanced his way.
Potter.
It was Potter.
Her eyes widened and she startled, jerking back. She had smelled him, or perhaps seen him, her instincts warning her of the presence of a predator.
She bolted.
Ran in the opposite direction, long, skittish legs powering her sprint. Fleeing from him.
Prey prey prey, hummed the wolf.
He pounced after her.
*
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
There was a predator in the forest. A predator hunting her!
She had had a pretty good handle on her instincts so far. Loud noises startled her more than before, and she disliked it when people stood too close behind her, but she had risen above those inconveniences. They meant very little in the grand scheme of things.
She was still Harriet Potter, Gryffindor, daredevil extraordinaire.
Except no.
No, she wasn't, because fear had seized her spine and flooded her entire body with adrenaline,
Reckless Harriet Potter was gone.
Now, she was a doe fleeing through the forest.
She barreled out of the clearing in a mad dash, and she ran, she ran, blindly, zigzagging between the trunks, not even caring where she was going as long it was away — get away get away get away, that single repeating thought seared across her brain.
There was a growl behind her, low, sparking more dread in her veins. A beast, a man? She hadn't seen much, wasn't sure of what was after her. Amber eyes had glinted in the shadows, a whiff of something that screamed danger reaching her nose.
She ran as fast as she could.
Trees rushed past her in her flight. She tore through a bramble bush, not even slowing down for a second, letting the thorns slash at her legs. She crossed a well-trodden path, went down a banked slope, scraped her hands on some rocks as she scrambled up the other side, then splashed her way across a stream, her feet landing haphazardly in the water. Perhaps that would disperse her scent, if she was lucky.
Running, running, running—her breath growing short, her legs on fire, muscles aching. The night air whipped at her clothes, kissing her bare arms and legs, and she cursed herself for going out dressed in a shirt and skirt. If she had put more layers on, her scent would have been better hidden.
If only she'd been smarter.
Her speed wouldn't save her this time. She could hear the monster close in behind her, the raspy breaths, the heavy footsteps, the growl rolling up from his maw.
She wasn't fast enough.
He caught her as she banked a hard right to avoid a tree. Grabbed her, and suddenly there were hands on her, human hands, and a human body colliding with her.
She tumbled face-first into the dirt. He landed on her, emitting a grunt that sounded vaguely familiar. His scent enveloped her, familiar as well, and strong—pleasant—so pleasant, she should have liked to wrap herself in it like a big blanket—no, no, what was wrong with her?
Wrinkling her nose, she twisted under her assailant and managed to shift onto her side. The pale face above her was—
"Snape?"
—familiar too, and yet different. His eyes glowed, bright amber instead of flat obsidian, and his human ears were gone, replaced by two furry wolf ears that sprouted up from his dark hair. Fur lined his jaw, dark as well. The same fur coated his palms, soft against her arms. His upper lip was curled back, revealing yellow fangs.
"Potter," he said, voice far more raspy than anything she had ever heard from him. "Fifty points from Gryffindor."
"What?"
She was dreaming. She had to be—this couldn't be real. Snape couldn't be on top of her, looking like a wolf, taking points away.
"You're out past curfew. Be thankful I didn't make it a hundred."
She squirmed under him, legs fighting for purchase on the forest floor. He emitted a huff and captured her wrists to pin them above her head. His lean body stretched over her, larger, heavier, effectively trapping her. They were hips to hips, and she blushed at the suggestive position.
"You just chased me through the woods!"
"You ran from me," he replied, as if that explained everything.
"I thought you were some sort of monster—"
His lips spread in a feral grin, teeth glinting.
"Perhaps I am."
Noxious terror tightened her insides, her heart missing a beat.
"Professor," she said, aiming for a level, reasonable tone. "Please get off me."
He leaned closer, face inches away from her.
"Did you know you plagued me throughout the year?"
"Plagued—what—?"
He ground his hips against her, once, heavily, and then she knew exactly what he was talking about. A mewl flew from her lips, some sort of depraved, wanton sound that immediately made her blush further. What was happening? This couldn't be her reaction to feeling Snape's c—
"I could smell you through the spell you used to mask your scent. You hid from me, and that—" He bit at her jaw, teeth scraping there gently. "—drove me—" His tongue swiped over her pulse. "—insane."
It must have been contagious. Whatever was leading Snape to act this way, it had spread to her, and instead of shoving him off her and cursing him, she parted her legs wider and moaned.
He chuckled, the sound igniting something deep inside her, making her cunt clench.
"Little prey... you smell so sweet..."
"Snape," she whined, bucking her hips up, rubbing herself against his erection. "Mmm, we shouldn't—this isn't—oooh, God—"
He had placed a hand over her stomach, slipping it under her clothes, and she shuddered at the contact, another terribly sexual moan rolling off her tongue.
"We shouldn't," he agreed, his thumb brushing the soft fur of her belly. "Here's what's going to happen, Potter. I'm going to get off you. I will escort you back to the castle, back to your common room. You will go to bed, and you will have detention for a month, to teach you not to wander out after curfew."
"Okay. Okay..."
She waited. He didn't move off her. His hands slid lower, and he cupped her mound, pressing his entire palm right there, over the fabric of her skirt. She moaned again. Her cunt gave a pulse—she swore he felt it. His nostrils flared and his face tightened, those amber eyes flaring.
"Tell me to stop," he said, pressing his palm against her.
"Snape..."
"Tell me to stop, Potter. Tell me, right now."
His thumb pinpointed her clit through her clothes and pushed, grinding against the little nub. She gasped, a tremor coursing through her limbs, her sex spasming again.
"You had your chance," Snape growled.
And then he was flipping her skirt up, ripping her knickers off her, and putting his mouth right there. On her sex—
"Oh!"
A burst of sensations assaulted her, her brain having to process the sudden influx of information. Snape's large hands on her thighs, pinning them to the ground, the flat of his tongue running over her cunt, the shocking heat of it, the wetness, the noise it made, his growl—it all ricocheted through her nerves, reaching her mind, and one second later she had reached her conclusion.
She wanted it.
She wanted Snape's tongue on her cunt—wanted it like she possibly had never wanted anything else.
"Yes, yes, yes," she said, clenching her thighs together, grabbing thick handfuls of Snape's hair, bucking her hips against his mouth.
He produced a truly carnal growl against her cunt. She felt it vibrate through her, sending frissons of pleasure through her flesh.
He wasn't pulling away. She wasn't pushing him away.
Escort her back to her dormitory? Nope.
Harriet moaned and began to ride her professor's face.
*
Severus' mouth was where it never should have been.
Between Potter's thighs.
He had made a fatal mistake. Had underestimated the strength of her scent, its power, and how it would affect him. His instincts had howled at him to claim her during the entire chase, going into overdrive when he had caught her and had gotten her under him, and he'd been in control still, and it would all have been fine if Potter hadn't reacted to him like this.
The smell of her cunt growing slick had hit him like a Bludger to the head.
If she had said no—if she had told him it couldn't happen—they would have been halfway to the castle by now, Potter unmolested, her pretty little cunt safely clothed in her knickers.
Instead, he was defiling her with his tongue.
Lapping at her slickness, reveling in the taste, groaning and moaning as he licked her folds. He ran the flat of his tongue across her dripping slit, nosed at her clit, nuzzled her sex like an animal. Her hands were in his hair, grasping it tight, her legs locked around his head. She was moaning as well, nothing very coherent—sounds of pleasure, and some garbled syllables of his name.
He caught her clit between his lips, nudging, teasing, then he sucked it into his mouth. She started trembling, producing truly pleasant noises—breathless whines and whimpering groans. She should have sounded like that in class; she would have been a much more tolerable student.
Her cries went up in pitch, and suddenly she was coming.
She wailed as she gushed on his tongue, her cunt spasming over and over. He lapped up her slickness with thorough licks.
"Mmm, mm, Snape..."
Her hands found his ears. She stroked them, feeling them out with exploring fingers. The soft contact shot a jolt of heat straight to his cock, which was all but leaking in his trousers. He reigned himself in. He wouldn't fuck her.
He wouldn't.
No matter how delicious she tasted, he would not be fucking a student on the forest floor.
His tongue worked on her cunt, brushing over her clit, earning more squeals and mewls. He should have stopped. That was enough, surely. His entire face was wet with her juices, her scent all over him, deep into his nostrils.
He should have stopped, right now. Oh, but she was making such noises, her thighs trembling, her pretty little sex giving him more slickness. Such a good girl she was. She deserved another orgasm, so he gave her one. It wasn't difficult at all. She seemed to be primed for him, and so very reactive. He swirled the tip of his tongue over her clit, and within a minute she was shaking again, emitting the softest little mewls.
She went limp after that second climax, her legs falling to the ground, her hands now lax. He lifted his head and wiped his lips.
Green eyes found his.
She was panting, mouth open, her pink tongue suddenly darting out to lick her lips.
Do not fuck a student in the forest. Do not fuck a student, period!
He recognized the voice of reason. He always listened to it. Severus wasn't an impulsive man. He didn't do things just because he happened to want to do them. He carefully examined all the ins and outs, and then he moved forward (or not).
He did not do his thinking with his cock.
He—oh, fuck it.
Potter yelped when he flipped her over. He spanked that pretty arse, landing a solid slap to both arsecheeks. She moaned, the sound all but setting fire to his groin. He fought with his own belt for a couple of seconds, got his cock out, and lined himself up.
Then he pushed the leaking head of his prick in, and slid right into Harriet Potter's cunt.
*
Thick.
That was Harriet's first thought as Snape pressed inside her.
His cock felt so big she was convinced he wouldn't fit. Her body clenched up the moment he entered her, which surely didn't help, but God, how could he be that big? Had his creature inheritance changed the size of his cock? Was that a thing?
"Mmmm-nnnnh..."
She was moaning like a whore as he mounted her from behind, like a stallion would a mare. Right there on the ground.
And it was Snape!
Snape was going to fuck her. She wanted him to. She wanted every incredible inch of that thick cock, wanted them all crammed into her cunt.
She was getting them.
One smooth, long slide, and he pushed in to the hilt until his hips met her rump. She gave him a sound in exchange, a sort of ragged whine that vibrated in her throat.
"What a pretty picture you make, Potter. And you took my cock well. Who would have guessed you'd be so accommodating to your professor?"
She clenched around him.
"Little slut," he purred.
He leaned over her and worked his hips back and forth, fucking into her in long, brutal strokes. The base of his cock throbbed every time he bottomed out, and his balls slapped against her slit in wet, filthy noises. His grunts echoed her cries of pleasure.
"Professor, aaah—nnnggggh—"
This was ridiculous. No one sounded like that during sex, unless it was for show. And yet she was making truly pornographic noises, skewered by Snape's prick, panting with every thrust, fucked for the first time.
She was losing her virginity in the Forbidden Forest, to one of her professors who happened to be part wolf. Of course she was. Stranger things had happened to her.
Better things, well. That remained to be seen.
Every single slide of his cock into her was punching a jolt of raw bliss into her system, and she squirmed and writhed, bucking back against him, pleading for more.
"You have, ah, the most perfect cunt, Potter. A tight little hole crushing my cock, Merlin. Should have done this much earlier."
He licked at her ear and grunted as he ground his hips into her arse.
"If I had known... I would have bent you over your desk in class, and taken you right there. I would have rammed my cock into you and made you scream while your classmates watched."
His voice was a growl, pure and simple, every word drenched in blistering lust.
"Wouldn't," she gasped, even as the scenario set fire to her nerves.
"Oh yes. I would have fucked you in full view of everyone, getting all those wanton little moans out of you, and you would have let me—just as you're letting me fuck you now—"
She keened, clawing at the dirt, pressure and heat growing again in her belly, her body getting ready for another orgasm. He filled her deeply, opening her body for his use, his hips battering her offered rump, his cock pistoning into her slick sex.
"Filthy girl. You love this. Love taking my fat prick, don't you?"
His voice fueled her arousal, every dirty word sending her spiraling further down into a well of ecstasy.
"You'll take my come, too. You'll take it right there..."
With a snarl, he moved faster, fucking her in rougher and rougher snaps of hips. She kept panting, mewls and whimpers punched out of her.
"Is that what you want, Potter? For your professor to come inside you?"
She replied with her filthiest moan yet. Snape let out a deep growl. He pushed two fingers into her mouth, hooking them against her cheek from the inside, and pounded her cunt, his ramming strokes jolting her body. The rough slide of his thick cock was bruising her from the inside in the most brilliant way.
She drooled, mouth kept open, saliva dribbling down onto his fingers and to the ground.
"My little doe—you should have ran faster. I won't let you go now."
His hot breath brushed the top of her ears, adding another layer of sensation to the experience. A shiver rolled down her back and she groaned, the sound coming out muffled.
"I'm going to knot you," he rasped.
"Whaaaa—"
Knot her, knot her, what did that mean?
"Going to knot you, going to breed you. That's what happens when you go strolling through the forest, Potter. You end up face-down in the dirt with my cock inside you. With my come—fuck—deep inside that cunt—"
There was something at the base of his cock that rubbed against her rim, something thick and big—something that he was trying to push inside her. She trembled as it put pressure on her rim with each thrust, over and over, battering her, seeking entrance.
"Whaaaa—whaaa—Snape, fuck—"
"Take it," he snarled.
Another powerful snap of his hips, and the thing pushed past the fluttering rim of her cunt. Her sex welcomed it, immediately clamping down on it, and—and she was thrown into orgasm, head first and with no warning. Heat seared up her spine, flooding her brain, flooding every part of her. She shook, wracked by shuddering tremors, throat burning as a series of pitiful whimpers left her mouth.
The thing swelled inside her, locking them together. It pulsed heavily, and she knew Snape was coming, shooting bursts of come inside her, splattering her inner walls with his seed. He growled as it happened, pressing himself closer to her until there wasn't a single inch of space between them.
"Mine," he huffed. "Mine, mine..."
His cock was still hard. The thing inside her—his knot?—was still there, still pulsing. She emitted an interrogative noise.
"This isn't over," he said.
His fingers were out of her mouth now. He had laced their hands together, which seemed strangely intimate but didn't feel wrong.
"What do you mean?" she said, panting. "You just came, it's over."
"No. I have, ah, a different biology. Now that I've knotted you—"
He broke off. His cock pulsed again, spurting more come into her. She keened, a wave of pleasure rippling through her.
"Ah, ah, fuck—" she said, while her cunt spasmed around him, as if encouraging it all.
"We have thirty minutes until my knot deflates."
"What?" she squeaked. "God—that's—why would you do that?!"
"Because you're mine."
"No I'm not," she said, and then she moaned again, which kind of defeated the point of her protest.
He licked her throat, giving it a light bite.
"Mine," he said again, with the same assurance as when he explained a potion. "I've claimed you."
"Just because you're a wolf and I'm a doe doesn't mean—doesn't mean shite. I'll keep running."
"And I'll catch you every time," he promised her.