A/N: C.S. WhiteWolf's "Von Snapular" challenge for the inaugural Two Broomsticks Challenge: Genre requested: Angst/Romance; Things that must be incorporated: crossdressing (with makeup involved!) And Severus must at one point randomly say "I am Von Snapular."


Wizards, Harry thought as he smoothed his ridiculously short satin skirt for the third time causing him to wobble on his four-inch high red dragon-hide stilettos, had a very strange idea of charity.

It was the night of the Vamp and Vixen Ball benefiting the War Orphan's Society, held annually at the Wizarding World's premier fetish club. For a mere two hundred galleons, one could be anyone one wanted for a night and do just about anything one wished—as long as it involved being either a vampire or a vixen—and the night promised dark corners, loud music, strong drinks and wild debauchery. Cross-dressing, domination, role-playing and any number of kinks abounded and were accepted unconditionally. After all, it was all for charity. It was amazing how little money it took to buy social acceptability.

Harry squared his shoulders and made a bee-line for the bar. He ignored the leers and catcalls from prominent members of Wizarding society as he waited for his drink. Though, he didn't look half bad he thought. He was dressed in a tightly laced corset fashioned out of blood-red Chinese silk embroidered with black dragons. His aforementioned black satin skirt barely covered the tops of his lacy black stockings and was slit to heaven and beyond. He wore no jewelry, thinking he looked tawdry enough already, and had grown his hair out magically and piled it loosely on the top of his head. His short, neatly trimmed nails were lacquered in a shade of red matching his corset and stilettos. He'd long ago abandoned his glasses in favor of permanent correction and his eyes were lightly rimmed in kohl, his lashes curled and coated amply with mascara. His face was lightly dusted with iridescent powder and a bit of blush and his lips were stained with a faint cherry gloss. He'd debated on wearing lacy knickers, but ultimately decided to go without—he was obviously a man dressed as a woman, so why restrain the inevitable erection that was sure to rise tonight? The distorted fantasy of a lithe body of angles constrained and forced into curves by steel and delicate fabrics deserved a noticeable hard-on in Harry's opinion. Not that he had one. Yet. Taking an indelicate swallow of whiskey, Harry's eyes narrowed as they scanned the club for a place to settle. The music thumped and the lights danced as bodies undulated everywhere. Finally, he spied a nice, dark corner and made his way there, his normally longish strides inhibited by the stilettos and the inability to breathe properly.

Minutes later, he was standing against the wall, sipping coolly, while surrounded by lascivious party goers feasting on each other without a care as to who saw and who didn't. Harry took a long drink as he glanced around. Before he could take another, a large hand closed over his and deftly vanished the glass while simultaneously spinning him around, effectively trapping his arm behind him in a vice-like grip. Harry suddenly found himself face to face with his attacker, and what a beautiful sight he was. Tall and brooding, he was immaculately dressed in velvet and satin robes of the deepest black. His pale skin glowed ethereally and his inky black hair was tied back elegantly at the nape of his neck. He held out two long gracefully tapered fingers and ghosted them across the creamy column of Harry's throat before leaning in and nipping at the shell of Harry's ear.

"An exquisite little creature like you should be careful standing in the shadows like this," he whispered, "Someone could have their way with you," he said before pulling Harry to him roughly, "unless, of course, that's precisely why you're here, dressed like that," he whispered as his fingers danced lightly across Harry's throat and collarbone.

Harry couldn't contain the little moan that gurgled at the back of his throat, nor could he contain the "Severussss," that slipped out indecently thereafter.

The two fingers pressed against Harry's lips. "Shh, Harry, you know the rules."

Harry nodded and shivered in anticipation.

Severus chuckled. "What's your name, little one," he asked with a wolfish leer.

"Harri. Harri the Harlot," Harry deadpanned, "and yours?" he asked with an arched brow as he brushed his free hand up and down Severus's forearm like a professional.

Severus quickly slipped in his plastic Muggle vampire teeth and smiled broadly. "Count Von Snapular," he pronounced with a heavy accent," and I vant to suck your blood," he said as his eyes sparkled with both mirth and lust.

Harry smiled at the joke, but the smile faded as Severus deftly removed the plastic teeth and stared at him with an unfathomable depth of want. "I've got something you can suck," Harry said in a breathless voice as he found himself painfully aroused and completely serious.

"I don't think so, little one," Severus said as he pushed Harry face first against the wall roughly. Harry moaned as Severus kicked his wobbly feet apart and insinuated a knee in between to keep Harry close and upright. "You make such a beautiful whore," he whispered in Harry's ear as he pressed him against the wall further.

"Tell me again why I have to wear the skirt," Harry asked petulantly between his guttural moans as Severus rubbed himself against his backside and slammed him against the rough stone wall.

"Because, you're the one who likes his neck nibbled."

As if on cue, Harry bared his neck and arched, hoping that that was enough of a clue that he wanted some neck nibbling right now.

"Not yet," Severus responded, "You have to earn it, little one."

Harry moaned again. He was not fond of pet names and, thankfully, neither was Severus. However, there was something about Severus calling him 'little one' that was incredibly arousing. He didn't use it often, but when he did, it was to great effect. Like now.

"Oh, so you like that, do you? Well, little one, let's see how much you like this," Severus said as he pulled Harry's wrists high above him and grasped them tightly in one hand while his other hand savagely twisted and pulled up his skirt. "My, my, my, Harri the Harlot, you truly come prepared don't you?" Severus remarked at Harry's obvious preparation and lack of undergarments. "Are you ready for me?" he asked huskily as he bit the lobe of Harry's ear. Hard. "You'd better be," he whispered fiercely as he hastily unbuttoned his trousers and, seconds later, sunk himself deep into Harry.

"Yesssss," Harry whined, as he felt Severus enter him. Severus didn't even wait for him to adjust before he started pounding into him. With each thrust, Severus whispered all manner of filthy things while practically knocking Harry against the wall violently, the rough stone marring his otherwise perfect, creamy flesh. In an out-of-body sort of way, Harry thought about the fact that they were having public sex against a rough stone wall in the back of a club with Harry dressed like a whore. Had it just been about a little bit of neck nibbling, Harry couldn't have stomached this—not so easily, anyway. But, at the moment, he was completely overwhelmed by lust and anticipation. Tonight wasn't about charity, kinks, role-play or anything else so mundane. Tonight was about satisfying one of Harry's deepest, darkest desires, and Severus was clearly making him work for it.

"You are a filthy little thing, aren't you?" Severus asked as he continued to thrust.

Harry could only moan. What a sight he must make with his skirt hiked up, his cock painfully hard and throbbing and slapping against the rough stone, his skin scratched and flushed and his hair beginning to come undone while his mascara ran in tiny rivers around his eyes. The continually thumping music and bizarre light show only made the experience more surreal.

Severus stopped for a moment, withdrew and in one quick movement, twisted Harry around so that his back was now against the stone. He picked Harry up by the hips and quickly seated him on his cock. Harry screamed, but as Severus began thrusting again, his screams transformed into lusty caterwauling. Severus slammed Harry against the wall and covered his body with his as Harry's legs instinctively wrapped themselves around Severus's waist and his hands scrambled up the stone wall seeking purchase. Harry didn't think he could take much more. He opened his eyes and looked deep into the obsidian ones watching him with unrivaled intensity. Harry said nothing as he arched into Severus and, once again, bared his neck to him in a silent plea.

Severus broke into a malevolent grin, his fangs extending beyond the pull of his lips. This time, though, the fangs weren't Muggle plastic playthings. Harry felt his arousal increase ten-fold with that one feral smile. He found it hard to breathe between Severus pounding in to him, the anticipation of what was to come and the damn corset squeezing the life out of him. He felt Severus's hands wind themselves into his hair and wrench his head violently to the side, all the while with Severus fucking the life out of him. Between his moaning and panting, Harry glanced meaningfully at Severus, silently begging Severus to slowly drain the life out of him.

Severus leaned in. The point of his tongue laved the side of Harry's neck with languid strokes, up and down, up and down, up and down, while he brutally thrust in and out, in and out, in and out. Harry's raspy breath hitched in the back of his throat with each thrust, each lick. He nipped at Harry's ear. "Just a taste for now," he whispered seductively, "More later, I promise," he said before bestowing a possessive, bruising kiss on Harry's cherry stained lips.

Harry eagerly returned the kiss, ignoring the faint taste of copper trickling in his mouth from Severus's less than careful kissing.

Severus pulled back to take in the beautiful picture Harry made. Red, so much red—he was born to wear it, Severus thought as he thrust again and, at the same time, sunk his fangs into the side of Harry's neck. It was too much and pushed both of them over the edge. Harry screamed and screamed and scrabbled his hands across the sharp stone. They exploded as Severus suckled the sweetest, darkest nectar he'd ever had the pleasure of taking.

Harry marveled at the rapturous feeling of the taking; of truly sharing his life with Severus. He'd wanted this for so long—wanted to do this for so long. Severus refused to turn him, but this——this Harry could give him and, in return, Harry received the most mind-blowing orgasm he'd ever experienced. He was in a daze as Severus withdrew, blood still trickling down the side of his neck, cum trickling down his legs and stomach.

Severus carefully lowered Harry's boneless body to the floor. He cleaned himself up and smoothed his hair back. He looked down at his little one and smiled. Harry sat there, still dazed, completely debauched and stained, reeking of life and passion. Harry had done his part, and now it was time for Severus to do his. He would take Harry home, slowly undress him, bathe him in orange water, carry him to bed, and take him gently, reverently, before giving Harry a true taste of what he sought, of what they both sought. It would be glorious, Severus thought as he pulled Harry up and smoothed his skirt down before whisking him into his arms and into the shadows of the gentle night.



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