Snarry One Shots

Late Night Devil

Summary: Sirius knows it's wrong. He knows he shouldn't be doing this. And yet every night, he slips into Harrie's bedroom and uses her while she sleeps. This takes place during the winter break in Harrie's fifth year.

Ships: SiriusBlackxHarryPotterxSeverusSnape

All credit goes to Lone_Amaryllis on Ao3

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Sirius knows it's wrong.

He knows he shouldn't be doing this.

That doesn't stop him from slipping the potion into Harrie's tea. That doesn't stop him from anxiously waiting until past midnight, sitting in his bedroom on the fourth floor of Grimmauld Place, and then padding down the corridor and to the third floor, where Harrie's bedroom is. And that doesn't stop him from stepping inside.

He is cautious when he pushes open her door. The old house creaks and groans even in the dead of night, and any sound echoes far. He's usually alone with Harrie at this time of the day, but it's no guarantee. Any Order member could come in through the Floo if there's an emergency.

There's always a risk he'll be discovered.

It only makes it all the more thrilling.

He closes the door behind him and approaches Harrie's bed. She's sleeping on her side, blanket hiked up to her neck, curled up and facing away from the door, her dark hair splayed out in frizzy tendrils on the pillow.

He stands there for a moment, watching her sleep. This is the moment where he hesitates. Where he tells himself he can turn back and never do this again. That he can still be, if not a good man, a better man than he was yesterday.

But his cock is achingly hard, and his palms prick with the need to touch her.

He is never a better man.

He climbs into her bed and draws back the blanket, uncovering her body. She's wearing soft, comfy pyjamas that are a pretty light pink. The color suits her. He palms her covered arse, kneading it through the fabric. She doesn't react.

She never does.

He's a thief, stealing moment after moment from her, and she remains oblivious.

Gently, he pushes her onto her back. Straddling her properly, he lifts an errant strand of hair out of her face, then trails his hand down her cheek. His thumb brushes across her lips. He applies a bit of pressure, testing their plumpness, their firmness, and he groans when the tip of his finger slips past her lips and enters her mouth.

"Look at you..."

He thinks about kissing her. He always thinks about kissing her, but he can't. He's already such a monster, desecrating Harrie's body like this. He won't steal her first kiss while she's not even awake for it.

His hands wander lower. He rucks up her pyjama top until her breasts come into view. They're small and lovely, with pretty pink nipples. His mouth is on them immediately. He licks and sucks, tracing the swells of her breasts with his tongue, drawing her nipples into his mouth, teasing them with the tip of his tongue and the edges of his teeth.

He can taste the salt of her skin, and another flavor that's uniquely hers. She always smells so sweet. So alluring. Her scent suffuses the house, and wherever he is, he can smell her. When he happens to enter a room she just left, he finds himself half-hard just from her scent.

His tongue dips lower.

He jerks her trousers down impatiently, pulls them off completely, discarding them somewhere on the floor. He parts her legs and finally sets eyes on her little cunt. The sight sends a jolt of heat to his groin every time.