Inspired by this Lupin holds Snape at wandpoint picture.
Severus could hardly believe it was cold stone floor grating upon his elbows and bum through his robes. Lupin had got the drop on him. No one had done that to him in years.
"What are you doing in my classroom." Lupin's voice was cold. As cold as the end of his wand burned hot, a glaring needletip pointed at Severus's face. The wood of a wand never changed temperature, Severus knew, but it radiated Lupin's fury like a brand all the same.
"Your classroom." The words reached him at last. "This is my classroom."
The wandtip wavered. "You--what?"
Severus felt the tension pour from his body, fancying it must be leaving a puddle on the floor. "Lupin, you dolt. Are you always this dunderheaded two days after the full?"
Lupin did not go ashen; Severus suspected the man couldn't do ashen. Never more than sheepish. "Er." The wand was tucked away in one awkward movement, and then it was Lupin's hand outstretched before him. Severus ignored it and pushed himself to his feet.
"Care for tea?" Lupin blurted. Severus thought the man would gather his fingertips beneath his chin any moment, much as that hanger-on of theirs Pettigrew used to do.
"Lupin, it's my classroom."
"Er, yes. Well." The most absurd smile of apology quirked onto Lupin's lips; Severus felt his eyes widening to witness it. "Got any?"
He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. "I suppose." It surprised him, but he thought he'd take the chance he'd see that ridiculous smile again.
Inspired by this Tom molests Harry picture.
Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, "NOOOOOOO!"*
Harry stood frozen. This was Hagrid, Hagrid who was attacking Tom Riddle. But Riddle had provoked him, hadn't he, going after Hagrid's pet. Harry couldn't hurt Hagrid even if he'd wanted to; did he want to?
"You don't believe me."
Harry blinked. How had Riddle got free of Hagrid? Where was Hagrid? There was only this tall black-haired boy before him, lips drawing back from his teeth in a snarl that made Harry think of one of Aunt Marge's wretched dogs, cornered.
Only it was he, Harry, who was cornered.
"You don't." Riddle's hands were gripping Harry's arms. "You're not going to tell them! You're too bloody loyal to that half-breed giant and won't tell them how it was, damn you! Even after I showed you how it was!" With the last words he had shoved Harry against the wall behind him.
"Damn you," Riddle snarled into Harry's face. "You worthless piece of shite, damn you for living! You've killed me once--I won't let you do it again!"
Harry was squirming to get free, but Riddle only slid his grip on Harry's arms to his wrists, pinning them against the wall next to his head. His breath came hot on Harry's face, smelling of nothing; Riddle's teeth were all but on Harry's throat and Harry saw his eyes flash red. He wanted to cry out; he thought Riddle would try to bite his throat out like a tiger or sink vampiric fangs into his neck and drain him dry--
The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Harry felt himself falling...*
*This sentence is lifted verbatim from the text of CoS.
Inspired by this Greedy!Snape/Quidditch!Harry picture.
"My injury's on my arm."
"We have--" the words breathy, humid on his ear-- "seen to your arm, Mr. Potter."
"Mmm." Harry spread his legs wider, not caring if Snape called him a slut for it. "And now you're going to see to, as you put it, a few other parts of my anatomy? You're so considerate to me, Professor."
The breath at his ear turned to teeth, nipping. "You might make my task easier by removing more of your clothing."
The smallest of uncomfortable turns in his stomach, not enough to cut his arousal but just capable of needling through the spaces. "No. Someone might come in."
"Then--" Snape's hand moved from between his legs; Harry wanted to whine in protest, but then it slid about his hipbone, questing down the front of his belly and into the unbuttoned, dirt-stained trousers-- "you will kindly shut up and accept the examination. Before I strip you naked and tie you down like a willful child."
Harry moaned as Snape's hand curled about the base of his cock, fingertips just teasing the hairs that furred the surface of his balls. All fears of discovery fled as he let himself roll onto his back, arms and legs splayed wherever they cared to fall. "Yes, Professor," he breathed.
Inspired by this Winged!Harry/Fanged!Draco picture.
"I think the fangs are going to come after the wings. Look in my mouth," said Harry. "Do you see any fangs?"
"I don't thee anyth--dammit! I hate thith lithp!"
"I'll be growing them any minute. I can feel them," Harry grumbled, poking at his gums with his tongue.
"Thstop it!" Draco said, overcoming the lisp with an effort. "I hate you, you know? You get wingths and I get fangs and I'm lacerating my lower lip with every--hey, there we go. No more lisp," Draco brightened.
"Check your back. D'you feel anything growing there?
Draco shifted. "Nothing."
"Huh. Maybe we are different species after all. That's good," said Harry with a forceful surge. "I don't want anything in common with you, you tit."
"But how did we get this way?" Draco said, ignoring the dig. "I mean, did the universe wake up and decide we're to be the little angel and devil on the shoulders of God, or something?"
"Only you would presume you get to stand on the shoulder of God, Malfoy."
Draco sniffed. "If I'm going to be a demon, I want preference. Hey--now that you mention it, my shoulder blades do feel kind of tingly."
"Oh, no. Oh, just great." Harry began to poke at his gumline again.
"Cheer up, Potter. Maybe we're evolving into something new. Maybe--" he leered-- "we're meant to be mates."
"That's ridiculouth. That'th tho ridiculouth--oh, no..."
"Oh, wow--" said Draco, craning his head about as the feathered appendages burst through the back of his robes-- "I have rainbow wings!"