August 3rd, 2019

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James didn't give a damn. It was never about hurting Snape. It was about getting his goddamn attention. It was about not being ignored by him. This was a powerful fucking wizard, and all he wanted, was to shatter Snape's quiet control and make him see that he could be his equal. But no, Snape had to look down his nose at everyone. Snape had to keep his distance, like he didn't want to blemish those beautiful, spell-black robes with the likes of them.

Only James could see the power behind those pitch eyes. Only James knew that silence wasn't helplessness. It was judgement. And only James knew that in his torment of Severus, he was wrestling with an angel. He would get his blessing. He would get his annointment, if he had to rip that magic from Snape's veins. This wizard was going to take him seriously. This wizard was going to take every inch of him.

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Exhibit A, this photo is presented as evidence by Detective Ryan Kramer. It is presented as proof that Harry Potter did in fact know his stalker two years prior to the home invasion. Many more like this show Mr. Potter turning towards Mr. Cormac McLaggen's camera and deliberately initiating eye contact, which the defendant calls, 'baiting and teasing'.

"Harry knew I was taking pictures of him. As long as I stayed out of his way, it was cool. He let me. It became a thing. Over the course of two years, I felt more and more privileged and invited into his life. You can't tell it, but he was posing for me. It became our thing. I played a role for him. We both pretended that it was dangerous and exciting."

The defendants statement is supported by photos of the two of them at social functions, appearing on friendly terms.

"It was only when he stopped speaking to me, that I took pictures to get his attention. To rekindle what we had. For two years, I was his secret. I wanted it to be open. When he shut me out, I lost it. I didn't know how to handle that kind of rejection. He was this huge, adored person and nobody remembered me. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me. So, on that night, I stopped playing a role and became the real thing. I broke in, and I got my revenge. What's the difference between being paid to do it, and doing it on my own? He knew me and that's all he wanted from me. He just didn't think he'd lose control of the situation."

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Marauders



The curse worked so well, they didn't know which side of Snape they wanted to try first. The front or the back. That sanctimonious, pompous Slytherin wasn't so tough now. Not with James holding one side of his body, and Peter the other. In the forest, both put all their weight on his arms and kept Snape's legs apart at the thighs. All he could do was tremble beneath the prodding of Sirius' tongue, as it lapped the length of him and into him. He gurgled helpless sounds of distress, unable to form solid words as Sirius gnawed like a dog and forced Snape's body to vibrate against his will.

Sirius licked, his mass of curls flopping and concealing what he feasted upon at the centermost point of Snape's body. He thought about doing exactly what James wanted. He wanted to. But he was still too human, and all too aware of what it would do to their friendships if they couldn't handle it.

"Do it, Sirius. Don't hold back, make the change. I wanna see this prick squirm."

Sirius couldn't get enough. The animal in him wanted to cover more surface area and to delve deeper. He wanted to make Snape produce the most shameful sounds he could pull from him. His canine instincts were already dominating his reasoning as his mouth salivated excessively, drenching Snape and sucking tender skin between his lips.

If he did it, he mused, it would officially be the worst thing he'd ever done. He trusted his friends with his life, but there was no going back if he let them see the dog version of himself doing this.

If he showed them what they were asking for, he knew they were likely to never look at him the same way again. He wanted to do it. He was going to do it. He risked a glance at Remus, who was no longer admonishing them, but had grown strangely quiet from his position under a tree. Remus stared, transfixed. And judging by the dangerous look in his' eyes, as he let his pack have the meat they wanted, Sirius knew, the wolf in Remus wanted some too.

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Asleep

Credit: Sirius by XxNymphadoraTonksxX, deviantart. com


He knew that James's son was a grown man. But that didn't make it right. He simply couldn't stop himself from reaching under Harry's blanket. This was the third night, and still the boy pretended to sleep through it all. Even if he never penetrated, he needed the skin. He needed the contact. He needed the taste.

Afterwords, he bent to Harry's ear and whispered, "Thank you, Harry." He just prayed that James could forgive him.

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A Toast



A toast. A marriage.

He maintained his poker face. His stare revealed nothing. He winked at the boy as if it were their little joke. As if he weren't really thinking how inexperienced Harry looked for a man of twenty-two, and how he wouldn't mind tugging those trousers down in a dark pantry and giving his arse a tonguing so indecent he'd have Jame's son dripping pearls over the canned goods. He was certain that Harry was still innocent enough to never have had anyone's mouth there. Such a sweet boy.

Yes, a toast to your lovely bride, Harry.

image credit: Warner Bros.

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He hadn't meant to spy on them, but he wasn't going to lose sleep over it. He'd paid for the damn wedding, the least he could do was enjoy a scotch by the fire, in the dark, in the comfort of his own home. It served them right for not taking a proper honeymoon, and behaving as if they had the mansion to themselves. From the shadows, Lucius watched his son in-law make love to his son. He had to give Harry credit for knowing what to do with that exquisit equipment of his.

credit: fanpop.com, Bluekait