First rec
My sister wrote me a crack!fic with the prompt "a plague-like curse is sweeping through a war torn hogwarts. Through an accident, snape discovers that lots and lots of sex is the cure." She didn't quite deliver on all that, but there's a plague and sex and Snape. She also insisted upon the inclusion "assfart" and "bunghole." Don't ask.
She's never posted fanfic before, so I'm putting it here.
Title: What Happens When Harry is a Dipshit
Author: boorish oaf
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: R/soft NC-17 (to be safe)
Words: 1,287
Summary: A plague-like curse sweeps England. Harry catches it. Snape catches him. Ass-farting results.
Warnings: crack!fic, death!fic, non-con. THIS CONTAINS SLASH! THAT IS A HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIP OR SEX BETWEEN 2 MALE CHARACTERS. Please do not read if this offends you.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and a bunch of other rich people own the characters and universe of Harry Potter. I am making no money from this.
Read it, but by clicking, you are attesting that you are of legal majority to read adult materials and are not offended by slash...
With the death of Dumbledore, the fragile confidence of the wizarding world had crumbled. Only the inept and bureaucratic Ministry of Magic remained to combat Voldemort. In recent weeks, they had grown increasingly aggressive, as if arresting the Weasley twins for selling magical implements to the Death Eaters would raise public confidence. Witches and wizards grew increasingly paranoid as they grew hopeless. Though sometimes whispers of Harry Potter could be heard, few would believe a boy could succeed where Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards could fail. Harry, for his part, had disappeared from view. After spending a purposefully brief interval with the Dursleys, he returned to number 12 Grimmauld Place where Hermione and Ron were already waiting.
Entering quietly so Sirius’s mother would not begin her usual cacophony, Harry approached Ron in the parlor, relieved to be amongst friends once more.
“Harry!” Ron started. He had seemed to be dozing softly when Harry arrived. “You must be glad to be away from the Dursleys.”
“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “How’ve you been holding up?” he asked pointedly.
“Well, it’s a right mad thing arresting my brothers!” Ron huffed.
“Really, Ron, I’m sure the Ministry will release them eventually,” Hermione stated tersely as she barely glanced up from her copy of Rowena Ravenclaw: A Biography, “besides,” she added darkly, “they may be safer there.”
Hermione suddenly sprang up, snatching a newspaper off the table and tossing it to Harry. “Look at this. It’s a plague! The Death Eaters are spreading a plague now…”
Harry looked down in disbelief at the Daily Prophet in front of him. “Dozens of Wizards Killed, Hundreds Quarantined due to Pernicious Magical Plague” screamed the headline. In the three days he’d spent at the Dursleys, he had had no indication of such a catastrophe.
Hermione turned to him, her lip almost quivering. “Harry,” she said sternly, “we’ve got to get back to our task immediately. I’ve been researching Rowena Ravenclaw, searching for a potential horcrux. I thought we should start at the place where she was born. Luckily, it’s nearby in London. There’s a bit of a museum dedicated to her there-“
“Harry,” Ron said softly from the sofa on which he still lay. “Are you alright, mate? You’ve gone rather pale.”
“Oh, huh, yeah,” Harry spoke slowly, “it’s just a lot to take in.”
“Well we haven’t got time to sit about and take it all in!” Hermione said shrilly. “We must find these horcruxes and stop Voldemort before the wizarding population is decimated.”
Harry exchanged a hurried glance at Ron, who rose slowly from the sofa.
“Alright, off then!” Hermione directed them toward the fireplace. “Floo powder. Say ‘Museum of Rowena Ravenclaw’ now. Follow me.” And in a puff of smoke, she was gone.
“Well,” Harry said laughingly, “I thought I might get a change to sit down before we were off.”
“She’s been like this the whole time. Getting madder, I suspect.” Ron nodded seriously. “Best to just do what she says. She almost hexed me when I took an hour to peruse the annals of Wessington Wizarding Auction House looking for anything Ravenclaw. Oy, it’s been fun.”
“Where have you been?” Hermione demanded when the twosome finally arrived. “Well, no matter, here are our tickets.”
Harry noticed a peculiar expression on the cashier’s face. “What do you think she looks so odd about?” he questioned Ron.
“I dunno,” Ron answered stupidly. “Well, you are a bit of a celebrity.”
“On about that again, Potter, Weasley,” snarked a familiar and much loathed voice. Before Harry could even raise his wand, he was hit with a spell that melted over his body like warm butter. Distantly, he thought he could hear Ron and Hermione shouting, but his body grew heavy and he sunk onto the ground.
When he awoke, he was face down on a hard mattress, his eyes still blurry and his limbs fatigued. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no words came out.
"Harry, can't you speak at all?" Snape asked in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. Suddenly, an enormous assfart ripped through the room, disturbing the silence.
"Well, I suppose there are always other ways to communicate," Snape said with an eye roll. Much to Harry’s displeasure, he realized suddenly he was ass-nekid.
“Mmmffhpph!” he snorted, unable to fully articulate his rage.
“Well, now, Potter, you’re not being a very nice guest, are you? Especially not when I have spent so much time planning our little meeting.” Harry could almost hear Snape smirking. “By now you’ve no doubt heard of the plague we’ve set about?” Snape questioned him, ignoring the sounds of Harry struggling futilely against his magical restraints. “Indeed” he concluded, sounding utterly too satisfied. “A particularly skillful invention of mine, but I suppose you, Potter, needn’t bother making such efforts. You need merely arrive and you are praised. Well, no matter. I’ll have my hand in this as well. There’s only one last thing I’d like to do before I end your miserable life.” Snape ended his ranting monologue suddenly and jerked Harry up, dragging him across the floor. He exited into a decaying hallway, dragging Harry through spider webs and dust bunnies. Harry started as he was tossed suddenly back to the floor.
“Here he is master,” Snape purred. “I ran across him while running an errand in London.”
The Dark Lord gazed fixedly at Potter. “But Severus, how odd that you should find him so accidentally.”
“Indeed not,” Snape continued. “For some time, he and I have been concentrating on the same task. The task Regulus and I did not have a chance to finish.”
Voldemort looked up suddenly, raising his wand. Rage flashed in his eyes. He jerked Harry up by the hair, examining his forehead closely. “Why Severus,” he panted, “I never imagined you would go to such lengths to avenge a deceased lover. Perhaps all the raunchy buttsex you had with him melted your brain. You have defied your lord and paraded your insolence openly!”
Strangely Snape only smiled, not bothering to brandish his wand. The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Snape, his slitty eyes glaring malevolently. That malevolence quickly turned to shock, shock to pain, pain to fear. All the while, Snape stood brazenly as the Dark Lord clutched his throat. “Do you like my little plague?” he asked smoothly. Voldemort gasped for breath as spectacular purple boils broke out all over his body. He hissed and crumpled on the floor. Harry looked at him, uncertain of what to believe. He turned to Snape, who had taken to outright smiling.
“Mlleeffjj” Harry attempted to sputter.
“I’m sorry Mr. Potter,” Snape smiled beatifically, “I’ve given you a potion that rather delays the fatality of the plague. Also, as a side note, your boils will be orange. But I suppose you do have a moment for one last goodbye. Suddenly, Snape spread Harry’s legs wide open, simultaneously pulling his robes open and exposing his resplendent cocktopus. “I’ve so longed to see your bunghole,” he intoned solemnly. Harry tried vainly to struggle, but the plague had sapped his strength entirely. As Snape tore into his virgin ass lube-free in the moments before the orange boils began to burst and the Boy-Who-Lived was no more, Harry managed one final act of defiance: he farted on Snape’s dick.
POSTSCRIPT: Snape told everyone that Voldemort killed Harry and then he killed Voldemort. He was awarded the Order of Merlin First Class and became the most powerful and respected wizard of his age. Only Hermione and Ron doubted his story, though they did so from the comfort of Azkaban, convicted of a brutal attack on a museum cashier.
She's never posted fanfic before, so I'm putting it here.
Title: What Happens When Harry is a Dipshit
Author: boorish oaf
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: R/soft NC-17 (to be safe)
Words: 1,287
Summary: A plague-like curse sweeps England. Harry catches it. Snape catches him. Ass-farting results.
Warnings: crack!fic, death!fic, non-con. THIS CONTAINS SLASH! THAT IS A HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIP OR SEX BETWEEN 2 MALE CHARACTERS. Please do not read if this offends you.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and a bunch of other rich people own the characters and universe of Harry Potter. I am making no money from this.
Read it, but by clicking, you are attesting that you are of legal majority to read adult materials and are not offended by slash...
With the death of Dumbledore, the fragile confidence of the wizarding world had crumbled. Only the inept and bureaucratic Ministry of Magic remained to combat Voldemort. In recent weeks, they had grown increasingly aggressive, as if arresting the Weasley twins for selling magical implements to the Death Eaters would raise public confidence. Witches and wizards grew increasingly paranoid as they grew hopeless. Though sometimes whispers of Harry Potter could be heard, few would believe a boy could succeed where Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards could fail. Harry, for his part, had disappeared from view. After spending a purposefully brief interval with the Dursleys, he returned to number 12 Grimmauld Place where Hermione and Ron were already waiting.
Entering quietly so Sirius’s mother would not begin her usual cacophony, Harry approached Ron in the parlor, relieved to be amongst friends once more.
“Harry!” Ron started. He had seemed to be dozing softly when Harry arrived. “You must be glad to be away from the Dursleys.”
“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “How’ve you been holding up?” he asked pointedly.
“Well, it’s a right mad thing arresting my brothers!” Ron huffed.
“Really, Ron, I’m sure the Ministry will release them eventually,” Hermione stated tersely as she barely glanced up from her copy of Rowena Ravenclaw: A Biography, “besides,” she added darkly, “they may be safer there.”
Hermione suddenly sprang up, snatching a newspaper off the table and tossing it to Harry. “Look at this. It’s a plague! The Death Eaters are spreading a plague now…”
Harry looked down in disbelief at the Daily Prophet in front of him. “Dozens of Wizards Killed, Hundreds Quarantined due to Pernicious Magical Plague” screamed the headline. In the three days he’d spent at the Dursleys, he had had no indication of such a catastrophe.
Hermione turned to him, her lip almost quivering. “Harry,” she said sternly, “we’ve got to get back to our task immediately. I’ve been researching Rowena Ravenclaw, searching for a potential horcrux. I thought we should start at the place where she was born. Luckily, it’s nearby in London. There’s a bit of a museum dedicated to her there-“
“Harry,” Ron said softly from the sofa on which he still lay. “Are you alright, mate? You’ve gone rather pale.”
“Oh, huh, yeah,” Harry spoke slowly, “it’s just a lot to take in.”
“Well we haven’t got time to sit about and take it all in!” Hermione said shrilly. “We must find these horcruxes and stop Voldemort before the wizarding population is decimated.”
Harry exchanged a hurried glance at Ron, who rose slowly from the sofa.
“Alright, off then!” Hermione directed them toward the fireplace. “Floo powder. Say ‘Museum of Rowena Ravenclaw’ now. Follow me.” And in a puff of smoke, she was gone.
“Well,” Harry said laughingly, “I thought I might get a change to sit down before we were off.”
“She’s been like this the whole time. Getting madder, I suspect.” Ron nodded seriously. “Best to just do what she says. She almost hexed me when I took an hour to peruse the annals of Wessington Wizarding Auction House looking for anything Ravenclaw. Oy, it’s been fun.”
“Where have you been?” Hermione demanded when the twosome finally arrived. “Well, no matter, here are our tickets.”
Harry noticed a peculiar expression on the cashier’s face. “What do you think she looks so odd about?” he questioned Ron.
“I dunno,” Ron answered stupidly. “Well, you are a bit of a celebrity.”
“On about that again, Potter, Weasley,” snarked a familiar and much loathed voice. Before Harry could even raise his wand, he was hit with a spell that melted over his body like warm butter. Distantly, he thought he could hear Ron and Hermione shouting, but his body grew heavy and he sunk onto the ground.
When he awoke, he was face down on a hard mattress, his eyes still blurry and his limbs fatigued. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no words came out.
"Harry, can't you speak at all?" Snape asked in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. Suddenly, an enormous assfart ripped through the room, disturbing the silence.
"Well, I suppose there are always other ways to communicate," Snape said with an eye roll. Much to Harry’s displeasure, he realized suddenly he was ass-nekid.
“Mmmffhpph!” he snorted, unable to fully articulate his rage.
“Well, now, Potter, you’re not being a very nice guest, are you? Especially not when I have spent so much time planning our little meeting.” Harry could almost hear Snape smirking. “By now you’ve no doubt heard of the plague we’ve set about?” Snape questioned him, ignoring the sounds of Harry struggling futilely against his magical restraints. “Indeed” he concluded, sounding utterly too satisfied. “A particularly skillful invention of mine, but I suppose you, Potter, needn’t bother making such efforts. You need merely arrive and you are praised. Well, no matter. I’ll have my hand in this as well. There’s only one last thing I’d like to do before I end your miserable life.” Snape ended his ranting monologue suddenly and jerked Harry up, dragging him across the floor. He exited into a decaying hallway, dragging Harry through spider webs and dust bunnies. Harry started as he was tossed suddenly back to the floor.
“Here he is master,” Snape purred. “I ran across him while running an errand in London.”
The Dark Lord gazed fixedly at Potter. “But Severus, how odd that you should find him so accidentally.”
“Indeed not,” Snape continued. “For some time, he and I have been concentrating on the same task. The task Regulus and I did not have a chance to finish.”
Voldemort looked up suddenly, raising his wand. Rage flashed in his eyes. He jerked Harry up by the hair, examining his forehead closely. “Why Severus,” he panted, “I never imagined you would go to such lengths to avenge a deceased lover. Perhaps all the raunchy buttsex you had with him melted your brain. You have defied your lord and paraded your insolence openly!”
Strangely Snape only smiled, not bothering to brandish his wand. The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Snape, his slitty eyes glaring malevolently. That malevolence quickly turned to shock, shock to pain, pain to fear. All the while, Snape stood brazenly as the Dark Lord clutched his throat. “Do you like my little plague?” he asked smoothly. Voldemort gasped for breath as spectacular purple boils broke out all over his body. He hissed and crumpled on the floor. Harry looked at him, uncertain of what to believe. He turned to Snape, who had taken to outright smiling.
“Mlleeffjj” Harry attempted to sputter.
“I’m sorry Mr. Potter,” Snape smiled beatifically, “I’ve given you a potion that rather delays the fatality of the plague. Also, as a side note, your boils will be orange. But I suppose you do have a moment for one last goodbye. Suddenly, Snape spread Harry’s legs wide open, simultaneously pulling his robes open and exposing his resplendent cocktopus. “I’ve so longed to see your bunghole,” he intoned solemnly. Harry tried vainly to struggle, but the plague had sapped his strength entirely. As Snape tore into his virgin ass lube-free in the moments before the orange boils began to burst and the Boy-Who-Lived was no more, Harry managed one final act of defiance: he farted on Snape’s dick.
POSTSCRIPT: Snape told everyone that Voldemort killed Harry and then he killed Voldemort. He was awarded the Order of Merlin First Class and became the most powerful and respected wizard of his age. Only Hermione and Ron doubted his story, though they did so from the comfort of Azkaban, convicted of a brutal attack on a museum cashier.