Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

Written by Besina  
(She makes no excuses)  
July 25, 2013

Seriously, read the tags.

* * *

He shouldn't have waited until the school holidays to remove it. He realized that now. Waiting had been a mistake, and now - would he ever be discovered? Perhaps years from now, someone would wander this way and come across his bones and the dried husk of the plant in whose embrace he currently lay.

Of course, it had all gone so pear-shaped after Harry had first faced Voldemort, and destroyed Quirrel, that no one had thought of removing the various traps that had been set up to guard the Stone until well after the fact. Their continued presence had finally made it to the forefront of his mind, and to leave them there had seemed negligent at best, so he'd made his way to the third floor corridor.

Fluffy had been removed, of course, as had Quirrel's remains, or whatever you could call that ash that he had left behind, as well as the Mirror of Erised. However, that still left a fair few traps to be rendered harmless and disposed of. The chess set, for instance, would re-set itself, and could very easily kill any student silly enough to try to cross it; and the flying keys would have no problem impaling anyone crazy enough to try their luck against them. No, it had been for the best to see them removed. Now he only wished that he had thought to tell someone where he was going.

* * *

He struggled just a little, in vain, as the plant held him tight. Luckily it was no longer trying to strangle or compress him to death, but neither was it letting go. He hadn't expected to find it alive, frankly, it having been without nourishment since it had first been brought in to catch and trap those hoping to go below. He'd expected a soft landing on a non-living cushion of Devil's Snare, not a hearty welcome.

One of the vines circled further up his leg in an almost caressing fashion. He would have found it interesting if he hadn't known that this plant, abhorring sunlight, didn't use photosynthesis, so obviously needed to garner its sustenance from other, likely more living (at least for a short time) beings. He was going to be its dinner. Probably. Though for being as hungry as it probably was, it hadn't tried to digest him yet. That was something, he supposed.

He tried again to move, to search for the wand that he'd dropped as soon as the vines had gripped him so tightly, but the plant was having none of it, and opening his mouth to _accio_ it had perhaps not been the wisest plan he'd ever devised as the Snare, seemingly a somewhat intelligent predator, had quickly pulled him taut and inserted a pulsing vine into his mouth, effectively muffling him and preventing him both from accessing his wand, and from calling for help.

And all this time, he'd thought Voldemort would be the one to kill him!

A rather ignominious way to go, if he really thought about it: a wizard of his skill being eaten by a plant. He rather hoped they'd never find his bones - perhaps assume he'd died fighting the good fight somewhere - like so many others who had simply disappeared.

He'd been here for hours now, simply cradled in the plant's deadly embrace, waiting. And now it seemed it was finally preparing to do something, the long tendrils, vines, creepers and stalks finally starting to shift. He braced himself for the worst as he felt his body tilted downward and shifted further into the mass of vegetation. He was now surrounded by it, only his head left peering out, mouth still filled and muffled, but it didn't stop him from trying to cry out anyway.

Then something strange happened. Apart from the tendrils that had been holding him securely since he'd landed and first fought against them, there was a sensation of new ones creeping around him - a discomfiting feeling of a few of them pulling at his clothing. Of course, if the thing intended to feed on him it would need to get close to his skin. The rest could be discarded later. Unless it also ate wool. He suspected not.

A quiet 'Unf' escaped him as he felt a vine push between the buttons of his frock coat, and with amazing speed and agility, between those of his shirt as well. He felt a few of them pop off as a larger portion followed in, and shivered slightly as he felt it encircle his chest. He wondered now if it would squeeze him to death, but it didn't seem to want to. Perhaps it exuded digestive enzymes directly from the vine? These were not good thoughts to dwell on, but as there was nothing else to think about at the moment, he couldn't actually help himself.

A boot was worked off, and other tendrils shot up the sleeves of his robes and coat, finding skin rather quickly. It tickled a bit as they wound themselves, not too tightly, about the length of his arms. One also encircled his neck, but surprisingly didn't strangle. There really wasn't much struggling he'd been left to do. Still, he kicked his legs a bit, unwilling to go down without at least a meagre fight, unfortunately dislodging his other boot in the process, and all too suddenly, some interested vines had found their way inside the bottom of his trousers and were sneaking up his legs, winding around them as they went, gently pulling him taut. He was well and truly immobilised now and suspected the end was near.

The thing would dissolve, crush, or possibly pierce him very soon and he'd have ended up as nothing more than an energy bar for a rather ugly plant. What a legacy. He moaned out of frustration and grief.

There was a tearing sound as more of his clothing gave way under the larger and stronger parts of the shoots. More and more tendrils came in contact with his flesh, and soon there was no more clothing left - probably discarded to the floor below - wherever that was now.

The most humiliating part of the whole thing was, perhaps, that the sheer adrenaline combined with the rubbing of the plant against his more personal areas was making him hard. Trust him to die both ignominiously _and_ with a hard-on. Oh Merlin! Now he could feel them wrapping around _that_ as if it were some sort of trellis. He tried to struggle again, ineffectually, and all movement from the plant stopped briefly, then it tightened its grip on his arms and legs once more and slowly squeezed around his neck until he quickly got the idea and ceased his efforts. A moment afterwards, it relaxed its grip on his neck, though still kept him very tightly tethered in arm and leg, and the tendrils slid back up, around, and over his shaft - feeling as if they were gently massaging it, for some reason.

He managed to inhale a stuttering breath through his nose as the administrations continued, unsure what part of the process this was, but knowing, and hating, that his body was apparently enjoying it so much. Now a few of the vines on his chest were gently sliding over his nipples and making him squirm, or at least try to, but at least the plant wasn't disciplining him for that. The gentle laving over his chest and rhythmic tugging on his cock, combined with the utter unreality of what was happening was starting to make his mind grow fuzzy. He huffed in another great breath through his nose, and swore he could start to feel the bit in his mouth begin to pulse slowly in and out.

He was being groped, stroked off, and giving head (sort of) to a plant. Surely, this wasn't the way it did in its dinners, was it? If it was, perhaps there were worse ways to go. He tasted something sweet on his tongue - the plant had released some sort of chemical, or perhaps a sap, that was making his body relax and his mind drift. A hypnotic of some sort? It was the last cohesive thought he was able to muster as his body gave in to it, and he relaxed as bits of it plundered his mouth and sensually accosted his body.

He heard himself moaning, pleasurably, as the vines moved over him, the tendrils touching him everywhere - winding around his cock and persistently pulling, tugging, stroking him off. He could scarcely believe that this is what it was intended to do, but apparently it was, as they kept up the motion until, still muddle-minded and everything sensitised, he tensed and came, hard, coating the plant with his release.

He then felt gentled for a little while, the plant simply cradling him loosely as he recovered, still not letting go, his mind pleasantly vacant, until the ministrations started up once more, and he found himself suddenly hard again. The sap had nourishing as well as hypnotic and, apparently, aphrodisiac qualities, as it had him ready to go again each time a little more was released onto his tongue. It happened several more times, more than he could keep track of. Always bringing him off, then giving him a little rest, sometimes even a little sleep, only to start over again.

He'd lost track of the days. And the plant was definitely feeding on him, just not at all in the way he'd imagined. It was certainly one way to get protein - and to keep your prey captive while milking more of it out of them certainly paid off better in the long run than one quick feast.

During one of the few lucid moments he had while the plant had its way with him he wondered why they even kept this insidious thing near students? Did anyone, even Professor Sprout, know about its unusual feeding habits? He doubted they'd ever been documented or this plant would never have been allowed on school grounds...

And oh gods.. it was starting again... his mind went blank and he fell back into the cycle of being brought to orgasm after orgasm as the Snare pumped him dry time and again. Really, he should have had no stores left and should have been coming dry long before, but again, something about what the plant was dosing him with was forcing his body to make and release more every time. Devil's Snare was seeming a more and more appropriate name by the minute.

It alighted upon him that he was a cow. He was exactly like a dairy cow to this thing. Being milked and forced to produce for it. Somehow, he couldn't find the mental strength to object.

* * *

It had been at least a week, and the plant was now well-nourished, though it kept up its ministrations, just not quite as intensively as it had first done, _when it was starving to death,_ he added mentally. Now, if anything, it seemed a bit playful. If a man-eating plant could be called playful.

It seemed to enjoy rolling him around between its vines, repositioning him on occasion, and using its tendrils to explore, much more than they had when this whole thing had begun. It had stopped dosing him with the sap quite so often - only once a day now, presumably simply to provide nourishment for him. It also enjoyed rubbing him just to the brink of orgasm, over and over again, as it didn't need the protein quite as urgently as it had, then stopping as soon as his breathing got rapid and his body began to tense. Snape began to think of it as somewhat of a tease, though it would always eventually finish him off making him come incredibly hard at the end of a day of such torment, allowing him to finally relax as well as getting its daily nourishment from him.

Along about day eleven, a rather curious vine had found the cleft between his buttocks, and with a little work, managed to wiggle its way between them. Snape had been being held vertically, his arms and legs still pinioned away from his body, preventing him from protesting too much as the vine explored. His head lolled back, his muffling vine still in place, and when he tensed as the one exploring him below ran across his entrance, a bit more of the hypnotic sap was released and he felt himself relax and give in again.

He felt the plant continue to curiously explore, prodding and poking at him, until eventually a more adventurous tendril slowly pushed its way inside him. He groaned and shifted a little, not being able to move much as it was, and both unable and, now that he was dosed again, unwilling to fight against its intrusion.

He felt it move up and down within him, groping against his insides, trying to figure him out and possibly what this new place it had found was _for_. Not long into its explorations, it discovered that the going was much easier if it released a greasy coating that it normally exuded on parts of its vine that were nicked or injured and needed protection from the elements. Yes, that made things one-hundred times easier.

Inadvertently, at first, it brushed against his prostate, wrenching an unearthly moan from him, and causing him to buck as best he could. And while the first brush had merely been an accident, the second and third seemed to be out of curiosity, then perhaps simply for fun as it forced those sounds and reactions from him again and again, making him flop, squirm and send vibrations through the vine plugging his mouth with each vocalization.

It had found a new feature on its toy and delighted in pressing against it over and over the rest of the day, leaving Snape a completely worn-out mess by the time it became less of a novelty.

When he was capable of clear thought, Snape decided that the fact that his body being restrained and used, somewhat against his will, by the Devil's Snare, in any way it wanted, was a bit of a turn-on that he definitely shouldn't be having, but couldn't help himself from.

He was being forced to submit to a non-human entity - a plant, no less. He rethought that notion: he was now essentially a -_sex slave-_ to a -_plant-_, and you couldn't get more humbling than that, but on top of it all, he was enjoying it! _What had this thing turned him into?_

* * *

The next two weeks saw him being used as a source of nourishment, but also with more play, featuring himself as a toy to a rather sadistic master. It was clear the plant was revelling in the noises, and thus the vibrations, it could urge out of the professor both through indulging him and denying him when he was right at the brink. It had found it could not only stroke him off, but it could pummel into his arse with its larger vines, and even milk his prostate relentlessly and leave him worn out and limp-limbed without the need for its chemical hypnotics at all.

If a plant could chuckle ominously, this one would have done so.

The muffling vine had even taken to 'fucking' his mouth on occasion - something that was purely recreational as it had had no previous need to do that either to quiet him or to feed or dose him. It seemed it was enoying having complete control over its human captive almost as much as its human was now enjoying having his control wrenched away from him.

Rather than a parasitic relationship, Snape was beginning to believe it to be a symbiotic one - the plant taking from him what it needed, but also providing nourishment, and gratifying him in the most creative of ways. The fact that it was a plant was bothering him less and less each day as he gave in to it over and over again.

The floggings were another little misstep that took on a life of their own. Near the end of almost a month in its clutches, Snape had fallen asleep, still held vertically aloft by his wrists, and held and supported by his ankles in the Snare's grip.

The Snare had early-on realised its captive needed some down time, much as it did as well, though it didn't exactly 'sleep' in the same way its human did. It had rested and was waiting irritably for its captive to awaken so it could feed from it, then begin experimenting with it as it had done every day for the past few weeks.

It really was quite nice not to be left on its own any more. Not only was it no longer starving, but people didn't seem to understand plants needed company as well - usually that of other plants, and usually of the same species, but anything would do in a pinch. And this company was really quite _interesting_ and responsive to everything it did, regardless of whether it could communicate with him or not.

It also liked the fact that for once, it was in control of a human, rather than the other way around. After all, humans had been the ones to relocate it here, then left it to die. If this one hadn't stumbled, well, fallen, into it, it surely would have. Being in control felt safe, felt good. And now it seemed the human seemed to think so too, allowing it to do anything it pleased to him with little to no objection, and sometimes to its extreme satisfaction. The fact that it could drug its human and do whatever it wanted to _anyway_ also gave it a smug type of feeling it hadn't known before.

At any rate, the Snare had been waiting for the human to wake up. It didn't _have_ to. It knew this. It could simply start milking him now and get its nourishment without any regard to the captive's point of view. However, it _had_ experimented rather widely the day before and knew that it had thoroughly worn its human out. To let it sleep and regain energy seemed wise, and somehow _polite_ - a concept completely foreign to it, yet which seemed somehow important, at least every now and again.

It tapped its tendrils irritably across the human's back, perhaps with a little more force than it had originally meant to use.

The resulting *thwack* made the human's eyes shoot open, and a large breath was inhaled through his nose. His body shook in the most interesting manner. It felt the human's pulse spike as another shiver ran through it. Well, this was new, and there hadn't been anything new now in a couple of weeks. Why not try all the new things out at once? Mentally (as mentally as a plant can get anyway,) it shook itself and figured it may as well work on getting its nourishment at the same time, since often its experiments ended up producing more feedings from the human anyway.

The tendrils around the human's throat forced his head back as the muffling vine began to force itself further into and out of his mouth. This always caused some moaning on the human's behalf, as well as making him naturally more pliant and submissive to the Snare, no dosing required. The Snare had yet to figure out why this was, but was simply pleased that it worked, and the moaning vibrations felt good as they travelled the length of its vine.

Next, it worked the human's legs open, and it seemed the human knew what was coming as another moan issued forth from him. It probed and felt the human relax as another vine was slicked and introduced to his arse, where it started to piston and pulse inside its captive. More moans, a whole flurry of them, came this time. Feeding wasn't going to take a long time, it seemed.

Small tendrils worked their way over the stiffening flesh in front of the human, where the protein was released, and gripped gently, gliding up and down. Greater breaths were being heaved in through his nose, and he was trembling a bit.

They'd done this much before. Usually not all in concert, but occasionally so. The Snare loved the feeling of power this gave to it, and it squeezed snugly around its human's throat for a moment before relaxing enough to just hold the head in position for its continued plundering. More moaning and another shudder.

Now, for the newest thing! The Snare brought back a few tendrils and let them fly, smacking hard against its captive's back. It seemed to knock all the breath out of him for a moment, then there was a shaky inhalation and a full-body shudder, accompanied by an unearthly moan that sent shivers all along every one of its vines, directly attached to the one muffling him or not. This felt good!

It did it again, matching it simultaneously with all the other attentions to the human's body, and got much the same response. Suddenly it found itself thwacking itself across its human's back while stuffing the orifices full with impunity, sliding its tendrils up and down the hardened feeding shaft as quickly as it could. Three more smacks and the human was quaking, moaning, and shooting his protein everywhere.

That had been a _very_ interesting result. Though it wasn't quite sure why it had liked it so much. Perhaps it was the moaning, not to mention the food. The moaning had felt good on it and it wanted to experience more of that _intense_ brand of it, on every single vine it could fit into his mouth.

So it had.

Polite be damned. Even as he still quivered from his first release, the Snare crowded more of its vines into his mouth and started pumping into him and flogging across his back once more, each vine squirming as it sought out the sensation these more grandiose moans were bringing forth and the vibrations they sent travelling up their length.

It was _exquisite_.

And the Snare had continued it for hours, much as it had when his prostate was first discovered, until its human simply slumped forward in its grasp, suddenly worn out and asleep again. It wanted to shake him awake. It wanted more vibrating moans. It wasn't sure why, but they were addictive.

Still, it controlled itself. No sense wearing its food source/toy out to the point it didn't function any more. If it did, then there would be no more food or deeply vibrating moans at all. And this human was so perfectly trained now, it would be a shame to break it.

* * *

When Severus came to again, he was not too surprised to find his position had been changed - it seemed like the plant liked to reposition him from time to time. This time though, he was horizontal, and being allowed to actually sleep rather than just recover from passing out.

The extra vines in his mouth had been removed, although many of them lay just beyond, the ends scattered around his head and one or two laying on his cheek. The regular muffling vine was back, and expanded to its normal size to keep him from speaking or summoning anything. He was still breathing softly through his nose.

A thick vine remained in his arse, not moving, though throbbing slightly, as the Snare waited for him to wake up once more; and a few tendrils remained loosely looped around his flaccid cock, also waiting.

Every muscle ached. It wasn't the first time; nor was it the first time he'd been worked until he passed out from sheer exhaustion, but he didn't want to be awake now. He needed more time, more sleep, more rest. The plant had been incredibly enthusiastic about sticking as many of its vines into his mouth as possible, sometimes pumping them in and out non-stop as it forced unending moans and shivers from him. Sometimes the vines would switch and new ones would plunder his mouth as the attentions continued, and they, too, would quiver as a particularly loud moan was forced from him. It was too intense, too hard to get enough air simply through his nose alone; he'd ended up trying to hyperventilate and even that hadn't been enough.

He closed his eyes and fell back to sleep again, surprised the plant had allowed it, vaguely feeling its tendrils stroking gently, protectively, across his chest before he drifted back off.

* * *

He had no idea how long he'd been asleep when he awoke next, simply that it had been a very rude awakening. A light had appeared at the top of the shaft leading down to the Snare - he hadn't closed the trapdoor after all - and a voice called down, "'Ello? Anyone down there? Professor Snape?"

It was Hagrid. Trust the bloody gatekeeper to notice his absence and come looking for him. The light wasn't sunlight, nor was it anywhere near bright enough to harm the Devil's Snare, yet the plant flinched anyway, and Severus felt himself released to fall through and onto the floor several feet below, where he landed with a whump. Moaning, which he thought he could see the plant shiver a bit at, he pulled himself to his feet and, able to speak for the first time in nearly a month, _accioed_ his wand to himself.

Professor? You down there?" He'd obviously heard the movement - if Snape didn't act fast, soon Hagrid would be hurling himself down seeking to rescue him from a fall he hadn't really had.

Still shielded by some of the Snare he called back up, having to clear his throat once or twice before making himself understood, "Yes, I am. Simply clearing out these little devices we left to guard the Philosopher's Stone when it was housed here. We can't just leave them be and trust students not to go tramping about getting themselves killed, can we?"

"Oh! No. Definitely not! Good plan there, Professor, I 'ad all but forgotten they were there. Although - well, it's just that you've been gone for a long while, Professor, nearly the entire summer holidays. You haven't been down there the _whole time_, have ye?"

"Don't be stupid, Hagrid, of course not!" Under his breath, the professor continued to _accio_ bits of his ripped clothes to him and magically re-stitch them. It was difficult to do in the dark, and he wondered about a _lumos_ spell, but considering the plant's reaction simply to the lantern light, he didn't dare risk the Snare recoiling any further and leaving his currently very naked condition obvious to all who bothered to look.

"Do ye need any help getting back up?" Hollered Hagrid once more.

"Nooo. I'll be _fine_, Hagrid, thank you. I've simply got a few more traps to de-activate and then I'll be on my way up." He finished mending his clothes and slipped into them, stepping into a clearing where he could peer up at the gatekeeper.

"You a'right, Professor?" Hagrid sounded worried. "I mean, you've got a bit of the Devil's Snare looped around your _throat_, Professor."

Snape quickly batted at it and it slithered away. "No, no problem Hagrid. It merely cushioned my landing. I will take care of it shortly," then his eyes flashed back up at Hagrid, "and by that I mean _I_ will take care of it. Don't you go about blasting things."

"Wouldn't dream of it! Now you just send along word if you need any help getting out of there once you're done, otherwise, I'll see you at dinner tonight!" And with that, the lantern and Hagrid's half-glowing lit-up face disappeared from the top of the trapdoor.

As it did, a vine snuck out tentatively toward the Professor's boot. He quickly aimed his wand at it and bit out a 'No!', then softened his tone a little as it withdrew. "I can't be having with that now," he said almost apologetically, "people now know where I am and will come _looking_ for me, which would be very embarrassing on my part, and likely get _you_ destroyed for being a menace to society."

If a plant could look worried, it did.

"I must take care of the traps, since it is what I _first_ came down here to _do_..." _(could a plant look contrite?) _ "...and then we'll see about relocating _you_."

Its vines relaxed, and it spread back out over its normal territory, but it didn't try to ensnare the professor again. He turned, and stalked off toward the traps, feeling odd at being both dressed and unrestrained.

It took just over two hours to clear the traps and make his way back to where the Devil's Snare lay. Snape sat down on the floor beside a few of the lower tendrils, crossing his legs in front of him.

"I have an idea," he said slowly...

* * *

When Severus had finished levitating himself to the top of the shaft, and shut the trapdoor behind him, locking it securely, he was rather surprised to see Hagrid bustling back in from the hallway.

"Ah! Professor! You made it out! Good on 'ye!"

"I _told you_ I wouldn't need your help," Severus nearly snarled.

"Aye, but I thought it best if I checked on you anyway," smiled Hagrid companionably before his eyes lit on a small pot Snape had half-concealed in his palm.

"Awww! Isn't that sweet? What is it Professor? Is that... is that the Devil's Snare? Miniaturized to a wee lil' thing? It's so cute, innit?" When he could practically feel the professor vibrating with anger, he backed off a step. "Nothing wrong with that, I say - if you found a way to rescue the poor thing without having to blast it to smithereens, I'm all for it. Ye take that deep into the forest, and it'll thrive right enough. Hardly any sunlight gets down into the middle of them trees!"

"It's a very powerful _reducto_ charm, and only meant so that I can transport it. 'Wee little thing' or not, it is still an incredibly dangerous plant. Once I have relocated it to a suitable space, I'll let it grow to its normal size once again and be done with it."

Still feeling chatty, Hagrid continued, "Healthy looking specimen though, innit? I'd've thought being down there for so long..."

"Goodbye, Hagrid." Snape bit out, then swept past him into the corridors.

That was just Snape being Snape; however, Hagrid couldn't help but wonder what had gotten up his arse _that_ day.

* * *

Severus had made certain no one had seen where he'd actually gone, and having found the Snare a new place to live, he went about the rest of his day feeling antsy.

He wanted to go back to his quarters and be left in peace, but there were things that needed doing before the students returned, and he only had a few days left in which to get them done as the rest of his time had been used up in other, more interesting ways, thanks to the Snare's initial capture and continued use of him below-ground.

He cleaned and re-stocked his potions laboratory, double-checked the inventory for ingredients that still needed to be gathered, made sure all reading materials were available in the library, counted the number of parchments and quills he'd need for the upcoming semester and communicated with Dumbledore over precautions to be taken with Potter.

It was quite late before he got back to his own quarters. Upon entering, he gratefully stripped off all his clothing, briefly wondering how on earth he had borne it before - so many layers - when it felt so much better to be completely naked.

He entered his bedroom and was pleased to see that the _reducto_ charm had finally worn off, and the vines of the Devil's Snare were now happily occupying most of the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room.

"Hmm.." he smiled at it, "I'm sure it's nice to spread out, but we can't have you like that _all_ the time. If someone should _dare_ to enter... and of course, I do need some sleep that I can get while actually _lying prone..._"

In a matter of minutes, Severus saw the plant re-arrange itself into a vague semblance of a bed - its vines interlaced with one another to create a rudimentary mattress and entangled upward to form what looked like posts, and even a draped curtain.

"Impressive," he muttered, chuckling, as he walked over to it and slowly climbed into the middle, stretching himself out along its length. He felt the vines shift nervously beneath him.

"I can't be kept indeterminately now, you understand..."

He somehow felt as if it did.

"However, overnight during school days, and over the weekends and school holidays are perfectly fine." He shuddered a bit as he said the last part, imagining what the plant would do when allotted more time to play with and subjugate him further.

"During the school nights, I will need to get at least five hours of uninterrupted rest if I have a chance at successfully continuing my duties here. And of course, if someone were to enter any part of my quarters at any time, you'd have to let go immediately."

There was a pause as he thought through any other topics he needed to bring up. Thinking of nothing, he stretched his arms and legs out until he was spread eagled, waiting patiently as the Snare understood and slowly wrapped its vines around them, then snaked a few more over his chest and around the rest of his arms and legs to hold him securely. Then, again, as smaller tendrils laced their way onto his chest and around his cock, which was rapidly growing interested. He felt a vine tenuously loop itself around his neck, almost as if waiting for a reproof, but upon getting none, snugged itself up happily, not enough to constrict airflow, but enough to show who was in charge. Snape rather enjoyed the collar-like feel of it and purred happily, his thoughts falling into those of complete submission.

He felt a nudge at his anus as a vine sought entrance, and tried to relax himself as best he could, but in the new environment, knew that it would need a little assistance. He opened his mouth and breathed, "Please," and moments later it was filled with his muffling vine, squirming and pulsing inside his mouth. A drop of sap was exuded onto his tongue and his body relaxed, allowing the one below, which had now coated itself, an easy push in.

He was used gleefully that night, neither of them having been entirely certain what would happen once Hagrid had first located the professor, and thrilled that Snape had come up with this plan which seemed to be working so well. Several feedings were forced from the professor that night, as well as near endless and much-appreciated moaning, which several of its vines got to enjoy. No sleep was afforded that night, as it was the last where it would be okay to exhaust him completely before a regular school schedule started. It was nearly a honeymoon - a very kinky honeymoon. It reluctantly let him go when it was time and Snape got up and dressed somewhat sadly. A tendril patted him on the back as he left.

Still, Snape remained sated and in a good mood for most of the first day, which terrified the students in a way nothing else he could have done would have.

And the days flitted by with Snape getting up and going about his scholarly duties each day, then returning to strip and fall into the Devil's Snare, which sometimes assumed the shape of a bed, sometimes not; it would then pin him down, bring him to a blinding orgasm in order to feed, then insist that he sleep, still bound within its vines; sometimes resorting to dosing him if it didn't seem he was willing to drift off on his own. In the mornings it would repeat its actions of the night before, then send him on his way.

The weekends - the weekends _and _the holidays, however, were quite different: strenuous and amazingly satisfactory for both of them as the Snare worked the professor to exhaustion quite often, and experimented widely with new things to do to its human both out of curiosity and to find things, such as the moaning, that it could also enjoy, making its willing victim so much more interesting than a mere food source.

Soon Snape found he _couldn't_ sleep if he wasn't held down, and often didn't sleep _well_ without something filling his mouth. On the rare occasions he had to be away from his quarters, he found himself having to magically gag and bind himself with a time-limited spell, simply so he could drift off.

Being away overnight also meant he'd have to pay for it later, regardless of whether or not the plant knew it was coming. It enjoyed holding the professor aloft while it flogged him, its vines and tendrils probing his mouth while he groaned against them. Then more, as it made him come over and over for it, without rest, until he was whimpering for it to stop. In all reality, it was part serious discipline and part play, and they both enjoyed it immensely.

Neither understood completely what the other got out of it: nourishment, certainly, at least on the Snare's end, was the only bit that Snape truly understood. That his moans caused pleasing vibrations, or that his captivity and subjugation made it feel safe and in control were things he'd never think of.

From the plant's point of view, its human was brought pleasure whenever he was made to produce its food; however, sexual pleasure was so far out of its purview that the concept didn't even exist - its human simply shook and released protein. That the floggings occasionally relieved stress, or that his captivity in turn gave Snape a release of control that he badly needed, were things that the plant would never be able to fathom either.

Even so, it worked out for both of them, and would continue to do so, far into the future.

* * *

**End Notes:**

Yeah, well... *scratches head* not sure what got into me there, but it was oddly fun to write. Hope you enjoyed the bizarre factor, I know I did!

Comments and feedback please! I really need them whenever I write something as cracky as this.  
Favorite line, scene, impressions? Would you like to see 'The Continuing Adventures of...' ?


	2. An Inopportune Visit

**A/N: **This is essentially "The Continuing Adventures of..." portion of the pairing of Snape and the Devil's Snare. This and the following chapters are little vignettes of things that happened after the events of the first chapter. They don't necessarily go in order, and are just fun little snippets that popped to mind.

This chapter dedicated to Crazylioness21, who so very nicely asked if there would be more.

* * *

Severus hadn't been back in his room for long - just long enough to strip himself of his clothing and surrender himself to the Snare's grip. He'd been fondled, pinned to the ceiling, stroked to hardness and _dosed_, not because he'd needed it but, _well..._ just because the Snare had felt like it at the time, and it _could_.

The plant was blessed with a lack of ethical concern that was very freeing, and sometimes it enjoyed its human overly-pliant and completely at its mercy. Not that its prey wasn't open to letting the Snare do whatever it wanted to anyway, but occasionally drugging its human **_was_ **what it wanted. Its motivations were at times inexplicable - not that it worried about them over-much.

But then the door to the professor's sitting room had opened, and remembering the rules that had been set in place to keep them safe:_ 'If anyone enters any part of my quarters, you must let go immediately'_, it had dropped him.

It wasn't malicious. Frankly, it was out of fear of being discovered and separated from his human toy/food source, and possibly being destroyed for being a 'menace to society', whatever that was. The part that had stuck was _'**destroyed**'._

It's not as if the Snare was hurting anyone - its human in particular seemed to very much enjoy his submission, capture and subsequent uses by it, but humans in general could be very confusing about things.

Luckily, its human was far less confusing: manipulate the human like _this_, and get nourishment. Manipulate him like _that_, and receive lovely vibrations. Combine various manipulations to get interesting results which sometimes combined the two outcomes. That was all it needed to know.

Still, Severus hit the floor with a thump. The Snare felt momentarily bad for having failed to cushion the fall (that was, after all, one of its specialities), but at least he'd fallen on a carpeted area, and the sap that he'd just been dosed with had made him fall very limply indeed, so no real harm done.

Dizzily, Snape pulled himself to his feet and tottered about the room for a few moments getting his bearings and figuring out what, exactly, was going on. Noises from the sitting room seemed to jog his brain into cooperating and figuring out why he'd suddenly been let go when pinned nine feet in the air, to flump onto the floor.

He looked about for a dressing gown and quickly pulled it on, fumbling to fasten the ties.

"Professor? Are you alright in there? I thought I heard something fall."

_Bumblelord... I mean, Dumbledore,_ Severus thought frantically, _gods, could he have arrived at a **worse** time? _ Severus could barely keep his thoughts straight, nevermind his body, which seemed to want to sway every which way, or collapse, alternately.

Usually when he was dosed like this, he was also held firmly in the Snare's clutches. He'd never had to try to balance himself before, much less talk.

He wasn't going to be able to make it into the sitting room on his own power, and if Dumbledore came in and saw the Devil's Snare lurking ominously in the corner, well, all bets were off.

"Severus?" Lumbervore was coming closer... Severus looked frantically around at the Snare which, magically, was no longer there.

He turned back, squinted his eyes and _really looked_ again, but his concentration was interrupted by his being pulled roughly into a large, black, twisted wicker chair he'd never seen before, just as the door opened and the Headmaster poked his head in.

"Severus?" Bumblebee peered around the darkened room, "Are you feeling quite all right? I came to talk to you about some problems we've been having with a few of the third-years, but if you're not well, perhaps..."

"'s a migraine," slurred Snape, trying his best not to.

"Ah! Well, that would explain why you've got it so dark in here."

There was a pause.

"What _is_ that chair you're sitting in? It's so monstrous... and black... it seems to make everything in here even darker..." He paused for another second as he eyed it, "Frankly, it looks malevolent. I know your sense of fashion, boy, but you didn't get it at Borgin and Burkes, did you?"

Snape peered around behind himself. Ah! So that's where the Snare had gone! First imitating beds, now doing a damned good impression of a vine-woven chair.

"'s made from Devil's Snare," he said, almost without thinking. _ Damn it!_

"It's not... _alive_, is it?" Something about it was giving Dumbledore the impression that it _was_, despite the fact that it was quite stationary.

"That would be tremendously ill-advised," replied Snape, finally managing to get his tongue under control. "Besides," he pronounced carefully, "I think live Devil's Snare would much prefer a nice damp, dark cave to my quarters, even given their current state of illumination."

"Point taken." Dumbledore relaxed and pulled up another of Snape's chairs to sit in, across from the man.

Humblebutt had started talking again, presumably about the third-years, but his mind was not able to follow, so Snape merely nodded again and again.

_The Snare was growing irritated. This was taking too long. It had been ready to feed when this whole interruption happened and it was hungry._

Snape felt a mischievous tendril wind up from the seat and steal beneath his robe, slowly sliding itself around his cock. He was in no mental state to protest the plant's forays onto his person and simply sagged against the backrest the Snare had so conveniently shaped for itself. The seat shifted to hold his thighs apart and the tendrils ran around his bollocks and started stroking him off. Perhaps discretion was the word for the day, but the Snare was enjoying its play of power over its victim immensely. Feeling him trying not to squirm, as well as trying to simply_ remember_ not to squirm, was amazing fun - besides which, it didn't want to wait too long to be fed. Perhaps this would inspire its human to move things along.

Severus shuddered, unable to repress the involuntary response.

"Dummleflor...Dumbledore," he corrected, exasperated with himself, "My head is killing me, can we do this some other time?"

Dumbledore peered at him through the darkness for a moment, suspecting that the migraine had been treated with copious amounts of alcohol. He then stood up and nodded, "Certainly, Severus, I should have realized you'd be needing your sleep. Should I send Poppy down with any potions?"

"I have everything I need right here," he breathed, leaning back as the tendrils stroked him faster, trying not to show the flush that he knew was rising on his cheeks.

"Very well then," the Headmaster rose, "I hope you're feeling better by dinner time."

Severus very much doubted he'd be released in time for dinner, besides which, the sap he'd been dosed with contained all the nutrients he'd need for a while.

Dumbledore lifted a hand in farewell, then exited the quarters, shutting both doors behind him as he went.

Severus was barely lucid enough to remember a locking charm to cast on them, and once he had, the great chair collapsed beneath him, pulling him down to the floor, wrapping itself tightly about him and shoving its vines back into his mouth, releasing even more sap; which made him loopier, harder, more resilient and more pliable than ever; then proceeded to stroke his cock and face-fuck the daylights out of him, until he'd been milked of his nourishment several times over, and moaned nicely around its vines for _hours_.

And just as the plant had finished with him, still out of his mind, he'd stifffen and beg to release _more_. _Yes, dosed victims could be so easily bent to its will, and so much fun!_ So, the vines had milked him even more that night, until the plant was so completely sated, it doubted it would need to feed for a week.

Overall the Snare knew its actions hadn't been _wise_, but they'd been _fun_, and a tremendous lesson in submission to its human. It expected it would indulge itself again sometime, just to see how well its prey could submit to it while simultaneously not getting them caught. And next time it would require its human's complete submission without any dosing.

The human wouldn't tell it to stop, certainly, not if he was in the right frame of mind, and he almost always was now - he'd simply have to bear it without taking any pleasure. It was a dangerous game, but perhaps if an audience less threatening than Dumbledore was chosen, it would be a nice test of his human's subjugation.

Severus didn't remember much of that night, only that he'd been quite out of it as the plant had him several different ways, all of them resulting in explosive orgasms and constant moaning.

In the morning, he vaguely suspected the plant of looking smug.

* * *

**End Notes: **

As always, and especially with crack!fic, I crave feedback! Please let me know what you thought! Thanks! :)


	3. Reading

The Snare usually spent its alone time in Snape's bedroom resting, or thinking up devious new things to do to its human, or just thinking about its human in general. Even in nature, Devil's Snare didn't move about much - not that it couldn't - it certainly didn't need to be rooted in anything as it didn't get its nutrients from the soil and it could pull water directly from the air or absorb it through its vines - but it preferred to stay in one spot, moving only when necessary if, for instance, its nice shady spot suddenly became _sunny._

Snape's quarters were ideal in that respect: below ground, without a trace of sunlight in sight. Sunlight wouldn't kill it, like fire could, but it certainly wasn't comfortable. So it felt quite at home and even a bit cosy there.

However, all this time on its own was, surprisingly, making it a bit bored. It shifted its darkly glistening vines in the low light and tried to come up with something to entertain itself.

Apart from when it was first smuggled in, in miniaturized form, it had never been in the outer quarters. It wondered... Certainly staying in the bedroom was a safer bet, but its human had made sure that the rooms were quite securely sealed from intruders, and even so, very few people ever came down to see him anyway - the few that did usually seemed in a great hurry to leave. It wondered if the one it had captured was considered to be intimidating to other humans. If so, that would be quite a feather in its... um... vines.

The snare pulled its tendrils from the ceiling and slowly crept its way across the floor and walls to the door. After a few moments of fiddling, it had figured out the doorknob and inadvertently pulled the door from its hinges - oh well, it could try to fix it later - if it stuffed the door back into place, its human was unlikely to notice anything amiss.

It edged its way into the outer room until it came across the bookcase. Several things on it were radiating magic.

* * *

Now, no one knows _exactly _just what it is a Devil's Snare can see. Especially since they don't possess anything resembling eyeballs. And no one's ever really wanted to get near enough to do an up-close-and-personal examination - there just weren't that many herbologists with a death-wish.

It was expected and widely theorized that they could feel vibrations and have a general impression of proximity to things due to heat, but, as with many magical creatures, sometimes the best thing to do was to simply _accept_ that they can do things one might not expect them to be able to. Such as see. It probably had to do with magic, anyway.

The truth is, Devil's Snare _can_ see. Quite as well as you or I. _How_ it does this, it has never questioned - it just does, and Devil's Snare has never been a particularly introspective plant to begin with. So when its attention was called to the bookshelf, it lost no time in relieving it of all the tomes stacked on its shelves, and settled in for a nice, long read.

(And no, Devil's Snare cannot read, no matter what it thinks - but it _can_ look at pictures.)

Lots of the books simply contained scribbles, and were discarded as boring. But a few had pictures, and a good number of these were quite detailed. Like most wizarding books, the pictures even moved. It was quite illuminating.

* * *

Devil's Snare reproduces asexually - sending out stolons or creepers, much as a common strawberry plant does - whenever it a) feels the need to propagate and b) has enough energy stores to do so successfully.

In the wild, due to the combined forces of long lifespans, uncertainty with regards to their next meal and lack of natural predators, this means that it doesn't do so more often than every fifty years or so, so sex, asexual or otherwise, is usually the _last_ thing on its mind.

Humans were largely a mystery to it, regardless of the fact that it now owned one. They seemed to like to a) run around blasting things with magic, b) sleep, c) relocate innocent Snares to food-free zones and leave them to die (it was slowly getting over this one, as obviously it didn't pertain to all humans, but _still..._), and d) feed one another.

In fact, if the book was to be trusted, they were quite obsessed with feeding one another, as this was an entire manual based on different feeding positions. It supposed it made sense considering the pleasure that its human felt whenever a feeding was pulled from him. Perhaps it was their form of social behaviour.

* * *

The Snare had gotten its vines on a copy of the Magical Kama Sutra; and wizards and witches are quite a lot more open-minded about sex than most muggles are, so the pictures were quite creative and featured many permutations on their themes, including variations on gender combinations and number of participants. In fact, some of the numbers were rather epic.

What it had learned was this: there are, with a few rare exceptions, basically two types of human. There are the ones with the hardening feeding shafts, such as its own, and those without.

Those with had two feeding orifices, whereas those without had three. The ones without had it stymied for a while, until it realised that several of the pictures focused on the lumps this type carried, often with relation to the head orifice (the one it used for dosing its human), so it supposed that's what the non-shafted type used to produce food (it wasn't too far off, although in _those_ pictures, they were used to do anything _but_).

The feeding shafts seemed much more versatile, overall, as they could be inserted in any orifice to feed another. The book seemed to indicate they liked variety when it came to this. Sometimes there were entire lines of them feeding each other, one in front of another. It also appeared magic was frequently employed as feeding each other in mid-air, sometimes on broomsticks, was covered extensively too.

It flipped the page and saw a section devoted to what it frequently liked to do - hold its captive down while feeding from it. No wonder it responded so well to that! Apparently it was something they naturally did. There were several positions in which to hold one another down, and it had only tried a few with its human - it made a mental note to try a few more.

There were many photos detailing ways in which multiple humans could team up to feed a single one by filling up all the holes at once. Though the one receiving the feedings never looked famished, perhaps it was a way to deal with those who needed a lot of nourishment at once. Or maybe it was some sort of celebratory feast for the recipient. Or maybe they just liked it because it was novel - they did seem to enjoy rather a lot of things when it came to food.

And here was a bit on how to coax food _out_ of one another, though not necessarily _into_ one another - it proudly noted that it had come up with several of these on its own.

It wasn't sure what to make of the toys section, as pushing a fake feeding shaft into an orifice seemed to be a waste of effort. There were pictures of lumpy ones using them on shafted ones or other lumpy ones, so perhaps it was a means to stimulate appetite when one did not have a shaft of its own? Ah, but here a shafted one was using one too - to fill an extra orifice. Perhaps they were used as its muffling vine was. It shrugged. There was no way to ask and the pictures weren't being much more forthcoming about it.

A few pages past that, there were pictures dealing with other ways to absorb the protein - many of them attempting to get it the way the Snare did - topically. Though it didn't look as if they were particularly gifted in that area as none of it seemed to absorb into their skin. 'A' for effort, though.

* * *

It was getting late, and the Snare could hear footsteps of students rushing by - _had it really taken that long to read through that much of the manual?_ It was less than halfway done! It flipped randomly through the rest of the pages: how to feed while invisible; while made smaller or larger; while transformed into various animals - useful, it supposed, if one needed to feed an animal, although past that, there didn't seem to be much reason for it; how to make the feeding shaft thicker or longer, to enlarge the lumps, to feed underwater, etcetera, etcetera...

Its human was due to be back any time now, and while it really didn't feel the need to explain itself, perhaps it would be easier if it finished the book some other time and saw to putting the door back in place.

It quickly stuffed the tomes back onto the shelves, rather willy-nilly, as some ended up sideways, backwards or upside-down, one or two even inside-out, then hurried back into the bedroom, pulling the door upright and stuffing it into the door-shaped hole in the wall, and taking up a nonchalant pose on the ceiling as it shifted its vines over the available space.

Perhaps it would surprise its human with some of the things it had learned today. That would be nice.

* * *

Days later, after a very successful round of feeding romps, when left on its own again, it began to wonder idly how more humans were made? It saw no evidence of flowers, pollen or seeds. Perhaps they worked as it did, and simply sent out shoots or creepers when they had had enough energy to power a new one? It would have to watch...

* * *

**End Notes: **Comment please! :)


	4. Research

Valentine's Day was fast approaching - a day Severus held as perhaps the most insipid and useless of them all.

Students would, for weeks ahead of time, begin running around, whispering and giggling to one another, as if they hadn't had the entire year in which to fall head-over-heels for someone and make themselves ridiculous.

And then there were, without fail, the yearly dosings of several unfortunate objects-of-affection via love potions, which were continuously available even though the things were banned on school grounds. They never failed to cause a ruckus amongst competitors and problems for the teaching staff when suddenly students would forget their work and spend the entire time mooning over one another - half the time it was difficult to differentiate the drugged ones from the merely stupid.

Still, like it or not, the holiday was coming up and it brought Severus' thoughts to those of, if not love, then at least appreciation.

The Snare had changed his life in the few months they'd spent together. He felt needed; he, _for the first time in a long time_, had company that he actually enjoyed - even when they weren't engaged in more strenuous activity; they could simply sit in silence with one another, Snape happily constrained within the Snare's vines, where its tendrils gently twined around his throat and he was constantly reminded of who served whom. He was kept continually well-fucked, milked and sated; his position of submission to the plant allowing him to cede control and relax. He was in a better mood than he'd ever been, even though this change in attitude mystified and even scared some of the students.

Right now he lay naked, pulled into the midst of the vines, half propped-up and nearly buried in them, while he idly stroked a hand along one. It was an extended weekend and the Snare had just fed from him for the third time, so they were both quite happy and content. His neck-vine flexed shallowly for a moment, rather like he was being given an affectionate squeeze, before it loosened again and the plant grew heavy around and on top of him - it had entered its resting phase - something it had only recently done while he was awake, preferring until then to wait until its prey had drifted off first.

The plant had found it liked keeping itself loosely wound around its human's neck - not only was it a way to keep him from wandering very far while he was in his quarters, but when his human spoke, his throat vibrated with low tones that, although not as intense as his moaning, were quite pleasing. In fact, during down times, it had started passing him books to read, simply to keep him talking - they were now midway through the first tome of the encyclopaedia.

* * *

The Snare's vines were far too heavy to move, especially when it was resting, so even though the professor wanted to get up and peruse a few things, he was content to lie there under its weight. His thoughts idly drifted from one thing to another until the upcoming holiday came to mind and he quietly mused that he should do something nice for the Snare.

He didn't really know what the Snare liked, apart from protein, and it _was_ a plant, so its wants were likely few. He settled on brewing a potion packed with nourishing ingredients, but when he thought about it, wasn't entirely sure that the ingredients he'd want to add to such a mix would all be beneficial to the plant - some of them may, in fact, cause it great harm, so some research was going to be needed.

He shifted slightly under the Snare's great weight, and a few vines circled him, pulling him in snugly. He vaguely suspected he was being cuddled much like a stuffed toy and tried to stifle a smile, as the plant was inherently a rather malevolent and menacing thing, and he shouldn't be grinning at its antics - it probably wouldn't appreciate it - but it having an unguarded 'cute' side to it was rather adorable.

He wondered if he was beginning to go a bit _Hagrid_ in finding such an evil and deadly specimen so enticing.

They'd come to an understanding of sorts, when the Snare had first taken up residence in Snape's quarters, that although the teacher was no longer able to be held in captivity _ad infinitum_, he was to be surrendered completely to it for the duration of all weekends and holidays, with very rare exceptions when he had to be on business for Dumbledore, (whereupon he would be punished on his return, regardless of whether he had had any say in his absence or not). However, this did mean he wouldn't be released to conduct his research until after the long weekend was over.

* * *

The next few days passed relatively quickly with Snape being used in his normal capacity, as well as having several experiments run on him. The experiment in 'how long a human could be suspended upside down from one ankle without ill effects' had gone swimmingly - the Snare felt it had gained a wide swath of knowledge with that little endeavour.

Snape was still recovering from that, light-headed and cradled deep within the Snare, when morning rolled around it was time for him to begin the week. The Snare milked an orgasm out of him twice for its morning feeding, then it disentangled him from its vines and pushed him on his shaky-legged way.

Snape dressed quickly and, having finally recovered from the plant's ministrations and with no morning classes to conduct, set off at a good pace for the library.

* * *

He arrived and ensconced himself in a corner. His first summons of books that held any information on the Devil's Snare whatsoever ended up getting him nearly buried in an avalanche of them. After he had extracted himself from that mess and sent the lot back, a second, more specific summoning for books which dealt with the nutrition, diet, feeding, as well as things which were toxic to the plant, was much more forthcoming and quite a lot less bruising.

Many of those he found were standard herbology tomes; however, one, which attracted his attention by continuously throwing itself against the inside of the gated area surrounding the restricted section, until he set it free to continue to its summoned location, was perhaps the most interesting - once he got over the initial shock of the original information.

Yes, he knew Devil's Snare generally trapped and killed things which happened across its path, the rapidity of which was largely determined by how much its captive struggled, but its general feeding habits were unknown to him. He _had _previously assumed that these victims were eventually digested, but following his time in the Snare's clutches, had modified that assumption to reflect its use of him. Now he was finding his earlier presumption to be correct - much more correct, in fact, than he felt comfortable with.

There seemed to be little in the way of biological matter that would harm Devil's Snare. Its diet was composed of whatever type of being stumbled into it, deadly poisonous, highly magical or not - though the larger, the better. In fact, fire and sunlight seemed to be the only things that disturbed it. Ok, fire apparently disturbed it quite a lot - but as far as the potion went, he had little to concern him, though now he found he was concerned over far different things.

It seemed Devil's Snare would lie in wait, sometimes for months on end, in a darkened area just waiting for something to stumble into it - in fact, it was quite good at building pit traps for this sort of thing, situating itself at the bottom of a hole or ravine and pulling large quantities of vegetation over the top. Bones and carapaces of large creatures had been found in previous lairs of the things, usually after the plants had died or moved on: centaurs, humans, large arachnids, werewolves, not to mention regular wolves, deer, unicorn, several fey creatures, even a giant or two (impressive - probably a very large Snare), and in the case of what must have been a rather desperate plant, which had eventually succumbed to fire damage, a small dragon.

Snape put the book down for a moment feeling stymied. Why on earth had it spared _him_?

Magical creatures certainly didn't deter it, and it seemed uninterested in the presence or absence of dark magics - it devoured everything.

The restricted tome held some illumination to this question, a penned introduction on the front pages of the tome warning about its having been written by a dark wizard with an interest in herbology. He sniffed slightly at this designation as the notion of someone who played with plants attempting to be evil was vaguely humorous, but as he delved into the tome, he found it quite an apt description.

* * *

The author had lived nearly two-hundred years before, and was likely the only person in that time who dealt exclusively with all manner of 'evil', or at least deadly, plants and figuring out which portions of said plants could make the most potent poisons and potions; the entire first third of the book was dedicated to his findings in these areas.

Other research often led to his feeding live human subjects to them. Notes were made on their various methods of demise and how long it took - some vampiric plants could drain their victims in mere hours, while others took days. Many pages were dedicated to plants which could let fly poisonous thorns to disable prey, which often died in agony, and were almost never devoured completely. Devil's Snare could take months to fully digest a human, and once it had rendered one powerless and wrapped them in its vines, the humans seemed oddly at peace with their predicament. Snape chalked this up to the plant's hypnotic sap. Even some attention was given to Whomping Willows, which never consumed things they killed, instead using their ability to hit and crush creatures as a matter of pre-emptive self-defence, however the incredibly violent manner in which they did so seemed to fascinate and divert the author's attention for quite some time.

About halfway through the tome, the author turned his interest nearly exclusively to the Devil's Snare. Apparently, having experimented on starving all manner of plants before forcing prey into their midst, he found that all, though ravenous, continued to dine in their aforementioned manner albeit somewhat more aggressively, with the exception of Devil's Snare. In fact, he seemed quite delighted in its modified version of feeding, watching quite often as it dined upon, but didn't quite consume its prey. Oddly, for a man given to such sadistic delights, he didn't detail exactly what took place during these sessions (Snape had a definite feeling he could guess), he alluded to the plant's unusual method of survival rationing - something it would apparently resort to when it would be without nourishment for quite some time, and when uncertain when it might get some again. Though the author's Devil's Snare was kept in captivity, he noted at the beginning of the fast, after several weeks without food, it had begun to move about the area, apparently seeking a new location to trap something. Nearly six months on, without being freed to relocate and find a new place to set up its snare, when it seemed on the brink of starvation, a subject was introduced, captured, but then treated in a much different manner, which the author seemed downright giddy about, setting up a safe station to watch these feedings from.

The book ended abruptly after a flurry of these entries, with an end note written in a different hand that the author of the tome had been found dead in his darkened greenhouse, variously poisoned, choked, drained of blood and pummelled to death by the assorted plants he had housed there - apparently they had not been very pleased at their mistreatment at his hands and had taken things into their own leaves, thorns, branches, vines and trunks. Even as public-spirited as these plants had been, it was noted that they all had been destroyed due to their dangerous nature, and most of the experimenter's works confiscated and disposed of by magical authorities of the time. A handful of prisoners (presumably feeding stock) had been released, as well as one rescued from the clutches of the Devil's Snare, with some difficulty, as the plant was loathe to give it up and eventually had to be set aflame before it released its grip. Only his research diary had escaped notice and been whisked away by other wizards interested more in the potion research applications which could be gleaned from it.

How it ended up at Hogwarts was a bit of a mystery, although the school did house other dark tomes, simply for the research benefits or historical backgrounds they provided. And, he supposed, it was safer in the restricted section of the unplottable and highly defensible school, rather than floating about freely within the grasp of dark wizards and witches.

He sat for a moment absorbing everything he had read before putting it back, though not before casting an obscuring spell on it - best not too many people be aware of its existence - before he headed back to his rooms. He felt flustered and there were questions he needed answered.

* * *

The Snare and he didn't really have much of a form of communication, aside from the physical. Sometimes it appeared to understand things he said, sometimes very well, sometimes not at all. He had a vague feeling that they might have established a weak mental link, but nothing that allowed for direct communication. So getting answers to the questions he wanted to ask was going to be difficult.

The plant heard him enter his rooms, and when he appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, the Snare, for the first time in a long time, felt a kind of nervousness radiating from him.

It rearranged its vines anxiously as it appeared its human wanted to say something and was deciding how exactly to go about it. It found itself vaguely worried that its human may want to walk away from it, permanently. It really had no concept of what that meant, other than for some inexplicable reason, it would let him, and be hugely distraught over it. That really made no sense to a predator such as itself - it had never before cared if its prey had wanted to get away. In fact, it had evolved specifically _not _to allow it.

It wanted to reach out, loop its vine around his neck, strip the clothing from him, and get back to things as normal, but it had the sensation that this would not be welcome at the moment.

It shifted its vines again, feeling ill-at-ease and waiting.

Several moments passed.

Snape finally cleared his voice and the Snare focused in on him, coming slightly to attention.

"You."

There was silence again as Snape rearranged his thoughts.

_..Yes, me, _it thought._ There must be something further to this pronouncement..._

Finally, Snape took a breath and continued, "You're a predator. A _carnivore_." His voice was slow, steady... not frightened exactly, but wary.

The Snare thought that that was fairly obvious, but of course its prey had no reason to believe it. It shuffled its vines slightly embarrassed to have been found out, though it wasn't certain why this should be the case. Its human affected it oddly.

"You eat people."

It didn't know exactly how to respond to this.

"You eat practically everything, in fact."

Severus paused again.

"I can understand why you didn't eat me when you were trapped, though you nearly did, didn't you?"

Again, there was a soft uneasy shifting of vines.

"You certainly thought about it quite a while before you did anything."

This was true. It _had_ considered its options. But that was before it had gotten to know its human, surely it couldn't be blamed for viewing him as a food source. He _was_ after all - he was also just a little bit more than that _now. _But he hadn't been _then._

There was more silence.

"But that's just a survival mechanism. Surely, being carnivorous, you require more protein than that...

"I'm basically meat to you - why haven't you eaten me since?"

The Snare felt rather offended at this, and pulled back into a corner.

Snape looked confused. "Not that I want you to," he added, "but I still don't understand."

The Snare reached out a very tentative tendril and stroked it down the side of Snape's face.

A thought suddenly occurred to him, "Oh! Is that why you do it so often?"

Now it was the Snare's turn to look confused. (For a plant, it was very expressive.)

Snape rested a hand along the Snare's tendril. "Um, the feedings. That's why we do them so often? You need a lot of protein, yet you don't want to eat me."

The tendril nuzzled him.

_Oh! _ Well, he had rather felt they were friendly before his discovery in the library had completely thrown him and led him to question everything he had assumed about the two of them, but it seemed that the dire conclusions he had come to were not the case here. The Snare actually liked him. And apparently as more than food. He stroked the tendril absently.

"You _-never-_ plan on eating me?" He still seemed hesitant.

Somehow the idea seemed repulsive. The human may be food, but one didn't go about eating... _um_... friends? Was that what this was? It felt like more, but even the concept of friends was foreign to it. Eating friends - that just felt _wrong_. Not that the Snare had ever really had a friend - plants, in general, didn't. It was a very unusual notion. It felt good to be amongst other plants, but that wasn't the type of label that it would put on that feeling. _What a very odd sensation._

Perhaps if its human was worried, it could go a few days without food.

* * *

Days passed in which, though friendly, the Snare didn't attempt to pull Snape into its clutches, and certainly didn't try to restrain or milk him.

Severus felt that perhaps he had insulted it in some way and now it felt rather nervous around him.

He hadn't meant for his questioning to have that effect, but apparently it had. Sometimes it was hard to fathom something as large, sinister, and imposing as the Snare was feeling nervous, but apparently it did. He wasn't sure what to do about it now. He cuddled up next to it at night, and often woke up with a vine laying over the top of him, but that was it.

He was feeling rather depressed, overall.

The Snare still sent him off daily with a small pat between his shoulders, but he felt they had lost something. He mentally cursed the library. Sometimes too much knowledge was a bad thing. He'd never felt that way before.

Classes saw him revert to his usual sarcastic and snarky ways, and the great majority of students, (save the first-years who had never experienced this side of him,) relaxed, even while being berated.

Meanwhile, Snape spent a large majority of his time after hours brewing, mixing, making notes and perfecting his present. Perhaps it would help them get back on an even footing.

* * *

When the day arrived, he felt extremely awkward and wrong-footed. Rather than deal with the nitwits in his classes, he dismissed them early, much to their dismay. The dance was coming up that night and everyone would be in attendance. He had managed to beg his way out of supervising it, thank goodness, as any more sloppy displays of affection between students would surely have him zapping them to oblivion.

That night as everyone made their way down to the Great Hall, in their most elegant adornments, Snape slipped quietly into the lab, gave his potion one or two more stirs before distilling it, letting it cool and dispensing it into a very fancy vial. It wasn't very much, but it was potent, and sure to do what it had been designed to. One dose of this and perhaps the plant wouldn't have need of him ever again. That idea was vaguely depressing, but as it seemed to want nothing to do with him in that respect lately anyway... perhaps it was for the best. He could ensure it got its food this way, avoided eating students and staff, and still remain friends.

He made his way back to his quarters cautiously, very careful not to trip, fall, or bump into things which may make him lose his grip on his prize.

He unlocked his quarters verbally and shoved the door open with his foot.

The Snare seemed to still be resting in his bedroom.

He gradually opened that door and greeted it with an uneasy 'hello', trying to sound much more nonchalant than he felt.

The Snare's attention seemed to focus on him. He held out the vial, now adorned with a small ribbon, and smiled.

The Snare tilted its vines to the side in question.

"It's for you," he explained. "I made it."

"For you.

"For the holiday.

"To um... show my... appreciation. For our friendship." He motioned between them.

The vines continued to incline inquiringly.

"It's very nourishing," he continued nervously. "I think you'll like it, especially as you don't seem to have any need of me anymore." He couldn't help but drop his gaze to the floor as he said this.

He still held it out, unsure exactly how he intended the Snare to actually take it from him, or use it, for that matter.

The Snare appeared thoughtful for a few moments, then lurched suddenly backward as if struck by something. And in a way, it had been, though all it had been was a notion: _Its human didn't think it needed him anymore. He was still trying to feed it. His human felt bad._

Suddenly Severus found himself engulfed in vines and pulled into the Snare. Coils of it petted him along his head, face, and stroked his sides. He felt as if he were being hugged violently before the Snare came to its senses and released some of the tension it had wrapped him in.

Surprisingly, Snape had not dropped the vial during all this commotion. At some point the Snare had wrapped a tendril or two around it and graciously set it aside on the floor. For long moments it simply held onto him, occasionally stroking a vine across him.

When Snape's respiration and heartbeat had finally settled, he smiled and said, "You like it then?"

The Snare's only response to this was to pull him in slightly more snugly, wind a tendril loosely around his neck again, and slowly begin sliding its vines between his buttons, popping them off and gradually stripping him bare. It looped itself around his arms and legs, laying him prone, and began to lavish attention on him - the kind he hadn't known in months - the kind it had obsessively bestowed upon him when he'd first become its captive.

He moaned and shivered as its vines moved over him, completely immobilized and loving it. Rubbing against him, massaging, tendrils playing over his chest, down his stomach, across his sides, and _Oh yes!_ there as well. He wriggled a little and began to pant. It hadn't even really started to do anything to him yet, but the anticipation was drowning him. The muffling vine slid into his mouth, expanding slightly, and he moaned deeply around it, causing the whole plant to shiver. He felt another prod at his buttocks and he relaxed. With a small push, it settled inside of him and began to pulse slowly. A needy whine escaped him.

Now the tendrils on his cock began to pull and caress, slowly increasing their pace until he was a moaning, writhing mess. He'd never felt so wanted in his life. He'd offered the plant a perfectly good substitute - something in fact, that was probably much better than he was, and it had still chosen him. It _wanted_ to do this to him... for him. He breathed quickly through his nose, and closed his eyes, giving into every sensation it provided - feeling every tug, every pulse, every movement inside of him.

It wasn't long before his body tensed and he exploded shooting surge upon surge of himself out onto the Snare, which milked him gently through it, until he lay nestled in its vines, feeling boneless.

"Thank you," he breathed, feeling a little wetness beneath his eyes. Surely he hadn't been crying. Maybe he had. The whole thing had been quite emotional. A few vines laid themselves over him as it gentled him to sleep.

* * *

He awoke, he wasn't sure how much later, the plant still holding him, keeping guard.

He sought to move a little and it didn't seem inclined to pin him down at the moment, so he leaned over and located the vial.

"You still probably can't get all you need from me," he smiled, "I may be a good substitute for a while, but eventually you'll need more. This should do it, though perhaps it can be in addition to, rather than in place of me." He grinned again, feeling a bit like a schoolboy.

"It's got dragon's blood in it, amongst other things; quite potent. Only a drop or two should keep you healthy for a month or more. Think of it as a vitamin supplement." He wasn't sure exactly how much of his explanation the plant understood, only that it seemed interested. Surely 'vitamin supplement' was beyond its comprehension.

He uncorked the vial and let a small drop fall into his palm. He re-stoppered it, setting it down again carefully, rubbed his hands together briefly then, taking a vine between them, slowly rubbed the substance in. The entire plant quaked as it absorbed it, shivering against him, a tendril sliding up and down his spine. Apparently it was being well-received. He smiled.

It looked like a nutritional massage was now part of their repertoire. He felt the plant stroke him fondly once or twice more, then relax into its dormant state, himself still firmly held within its vines. It wasn't long before he was asleep again too, his dreams unworried, as all seemed right with the world once again.


	5. Fire!

There was something wrong with the human. He'd been sluggish all day and hadn't even wanted to be nestled inside the Snare the night before - he'd done something strange and retired to his _bed_. The Snare didn't object because its human had been rather cranky as well, grumbling when he'd been detained to feed it this morning, and not extremely enthusiastic about it either - something he generally _was_ right before the protein was released.

The protein had still been released, yes, and its human had gotten dressed to go face and intermingle with the other humans, as it did every day, but dressing had taken longer, and the human had not talked much. Not that the Snare easily understood much of the early-morning banter (well, one-sided banter) that went along with pulling clothes on, but it was a bit of a tradition, and its human seemed to like filling it in on things.

Tonight, the human had arrived in the bedroom doorway looking haggard - and not the pleasantly dopey haggard that it frequently looked after one of the extended holiday play and feeding sessions - a distinctly unhappy haggard. He'd opened the door, grasped the sides of the doorway for a moment then, eyes centred on the (real) bed, had launched his way over to, and fallen onto it still fully clothed.

Some unpleasant moaning sounds were now emanating from it, and the Snare had never thought that moaning could be unpleasant. The idea was somewhat of a shock to it.

It crawled across the wall, floor, and a bit of the ceiling to go see what was going on.

Even if the human was tired, it usually stripped and lay down in its vines. The bed was rather a slap in the... well, a slap. And he hadn't removed the annoying body coverings yet.

A vine came down to rest across him. He felt hot. Even through all those layers of cloth.

Hot was never good. Maybe it _was_ the clothes.

Several vines encircled the man, who limply allowed it, and had quickly pulled them off, mostly shredding them as it's larger vines pushed between the offending garments and its human's skin to pull them from its human's body. It left them in a heap on the floor. It tried cooling him for several seconds, but vines weren't very good at creating a breeze, so it stopped. It laid its vines over him once more, and flinched away. It's human was still hot. Much hotter than normal for any living thing it had encountered. _Was it on fire?_

There were no flames visible on the outside, but that didn't mean one hadn't started on the inside. It had seen this happen to trees on a few occasions during its lifetime. Something would happen to cause a small smoulder on the inside, and eventually the whole thing would erupt into flame. _Fire was not good._ Fire was deadly to it, and it had no reason to expect it wasn't harmful to its human. Yes, its human was smouldering. That had to be it.

Now, how to put it out?

There was a room with a waterfall you could turn on and off in the other room - as a matter of fact, it had used it once or twice when it had been thirsty. There was also a small pond you could fill up, well, more of a deep puddle, but the human had gone there before. Its human entered that room scrub his teeth, and sometimes in the evenings to soak in the puddle thing.

The Snare made its way around the bed and to the opening to the waterfall room. It twined its larger vines around its human before it moved through the door, carrying him with it like a limp rag doll.

Tendrils shot out to manipulate the knobs on the wall until it had a cold stream of water shooting down from the... thing... that the water came out of. It shoved the human underneath, where suddenly it went from rag doll status to stiff and struggling. Apparently cold, crisp, water did something to revive it. Oh, it was also making that spluttering sound. It moved the human's head from directly underneath the spray and felt it take in a huge, shuddering gasp. Silly things had to get and expel their air through one orifice. It was sometimes easy to forget that. Respiration through the surface of its vines made much more sense.

It removed the human from underneath the water and shook it dry. It seemed to be doing better, although its knees would buckle whenever it was set down. A vine seemed needed to keep it standing. For a short while it seemed cooler, but apparently it was still smouldering because the intense heat came back. Perhaps the waterfall hadn't been enough. Time to fill up the puddle.

It left the water streaming down the open enclosure while it held its human up with a few of its tougher vines and sought out the knobs which would fill up the puddle, then waited irritably as it filled. Once the puddle was full to the brim, it splashed its human into it and waited, remembering to keep the breathing hole exposed this time. There had been a shout as 99 percent of it had been submerged in the icy waters. The cold water felt nice and refreshing to its vines - it couldn't help but be refreshing to the human too. Hopefully enough water would make its way in, somehow, to extinguish whatever had caught fire inside.

Really, its human was quite thoughtful. It had known it was going to burst into flame and so rather than risking the Snare, had fallen into the bed instead. That was really quite nice of it. Ah, its human was now starting to shake. That probably wasn't good either. It removed him from the puddle and shook him dry once more, not worried about shutting off the water here either. The sound of running water was rather soothing anyway.

It moved back to the bed and placed its human on it. He was still shaking. At least he felt cooler to the touch.

Its human was trying to talk. It soothed a vine down over it as it stuttered through some sort of communication.

"P-p-potion. There's a p-potion for fever. In the outer room. Help me get there."

Bugger that. He'd been on fire. He was going nowhere.

The plant scurried, as much as a gigantic plant such as itself _could _scurry, to the outer room.

It had since gotten much better at doorknobs, and anyway, this time the door wasn't closed. It pushed past it and found the vials its human had been talking about. At least that's what it assumed they were. After all, it had its own 'potion' that the human referred to, and it came in one of these glass things too.

It started poking through them, but there were just squiggly lines on the labels. No pictures. This was useless. It flung a few of them across the room out of sheer frustration before it thought better of it, scooped most of them up, and headed back into the bedroom. Luckily it hadn't spotted the ones in the locked case, or Snape would have been in much more trouble than he was.

As it was, the Snare had popped the stoppers off of most of the vials and poured them indiscriminately over the top of him. As these were largely remedies for love potions, petrification, burns, pox, anti-paralysis potions, veritaserum, many and varied poison antidotes, deflating, and calming draughts - things he had kept on hand for idiotic students in the lab - they didn't really harm him, though he did feel much more relaxed. The one for fever had been poured on him as well, though since it was supposed to be taken orally, it hadn't helped much.

The Snare watched as these ran over his skin, then soaked into the sheets. Hmm. Humans truly were pathetic at absorbing things, though at least some of the creams had remained on top. It rubbed them in. Had Severus needed a burn remedy or to regrow skin, these would have been helpful. As it was, nothing seemed to be happening.

The Snare never really got sick, itself. All it had in its repertoire was a greasy substance it could exude in order to cover nicks or gouges it got on its vines, until they could heal. It figured it couldn't hurt, so it wound itself around the naked professor and exuded it all over him. He looked a combination of greasy and waxy when it was finished.

It waited for a bit, but it could feel the excess heat returning to him. Whatever problem this was, obviously it was not equipped to deal with. Humans would need to be summoned. It wondered how to do this without getting caught.

It wandered back into the sitting room, waited until it heard the sound of footfalls in the corridor, then grabbed onto as many large things as it could and smashed them together, repeatedly. (Snape's furniture was not doing at all well.)

It waited until it heard the timorous call of "Professor?", before it unlatched the door and spread itself flat across the ceiling. Hopefully they wouldn't look up. There was a rattling of the knob as someone called out again, then hesitantly stuck their head in. Apparently it had made enough of a mess as there was a gasp, and the head disappeared, the sound of running feet immediately following.

The ceiling had worked fine for the time being, but it needed to hide someplace better. It removed itself from the sitting room, and scrunched as far as it could under Snape's ancient and expansive bed, pulling every vine underneath, and flipping the bedskirt down around it, pulling the side curtains around as far as possible. It still caused the bed to rise nearly another foot in the air, but if it kept itself flat and compact, and the bed level and sturdy, no one would look. Hopefully.

_It was really going to have to work more on its disguises_, it thought.

Moments later, Dumbledore and several teachers arrived with their wands drawn, keeping students back and taking in the absolute catastrophe of Snape's outer rooms. It looked like an epic battle had taken place, everything overturned and a chair embedded in the wall, in one instance. A couple of potions lay in smithereens and the desk lay on its side in a corner.

Dumbledore chanced a step inside, looking around carefully, the small cadre of teachers following in his wake.

"Severus?" he called, slowly pushing open the door to the bedroom.

The contingent stopped as they took in the completely greased figure of the naked potions professor lying face-down on the bed, potions bottles scattered everywhere and his clothes in ruins beside it. The floor was beginning to be covered in a thin sheen of water.

Minerva ran to his side, placing her hand on his neck, feeling for a pulse.

"Oh heavens! He's burning up!" she declared.

_It knew it!_

Another of the teachers walked into the bathroom to shut off the flood of water now leaking into his bedroom.

"He must have been quite delirious to have done all this," Dumbledore mused. "Send for Poppy. He's going to need some care."

"Should we levitate him to the infirmary?" Flitwick asked.

"No, best we keep him here, especially in the state he's in. Let's just clean up this mess a little bit." Dumbledore waved his wand and the mess covering both Severus and the sheets vanished.

Flitwick disappeared for a moment before things in the outer rooms could be heard putting themselves back in place, while Minerva magicked the flood waters down the bathroom drains.

"He must have been trying to take care of it himself, stubborn man," she declared upon her return. "Honestly Albus, he needs to know when to seek help."

"A quality, I'm afraid, he does not possess in spades," replied the headmaster.

Someone had obviously gone to fetch the medi-witch because she appeared in the doorway carrying a basketful of vials and remedies. They cleared out while Poppy set up and began to go about her work, tucking Severus under the covers, and managing to get a large spoonful of something down his throat as he waxed and waned through consciousness.

"If it seems anything more insidious than a real illness - magical in any way - do let me know right away, won't you Poppy?" inquired Dumbledore on his way out, still not entirely certain that this hadn't been the end effect of some sort of assassination attempt on his potions professor.

She nodded, and they left, shooing students away from the door and announcing the professor was ill and not to be bothered, before closing it behind them.

* * *

Poppy had dithered about for a while before summoning a house-elf to sit with the professor and monitor his symptoms, fetching her if any of them seemed to get worse.

As night wore on, eventually the elf nodded off, and the Snare was able to sneak a vine up and stroke his human's cheek once or twice before disappearing under the bed again.

At least it had gotten him some help, and the humans seemed to know how to put out the smoulder before he burst into flame. He was feeling much cooler now - closer to his normal temperature, and the Snare felt relieved. It had listened quite intently, and apart from the internal fire being called 'fever' and gleaning that its attempts to put it out with water hadn't been a _bad_ idea, it really hadn't learned much about how to treat his human if he ever combusted again. At least it knew a good amount of noise would summon other humans, and if it had to, it would cause a ruckus again and wouldn't tarry about it next time.

After three days of nothing but potions being poured down its human's throat, he seemed to recover enough that he was left on his own, with instructions to call if he needed something. Dumbledore had visited briefly to ask about the nature of his rooms and if he'd been attacked, whereupon Snape, very honestly informed the headmaster he had no recollection of what had happened at all. After he'd left, Snape had gotten up and tottered about the rooms on his own for a few minutes before coming back to bed, having used the facilities and gotten himself a book to read.

A vine slid up from under the bed to pat him on the chest and Snape smiled at it. "You can come out now, you know," he said, and the Snare gratefully pulled itself from beneath the bed, lowering it back to the floor as it did. It waited beside it, feeling worried about him.

Snape picked up the book he'd brought back with him and looked at the plant. "I doubt I'll be awake for long, but while I am, I can read this aloud, if you like."

The Snare relaxed a little and wound a tendril loosely around his neck while he began, his soft rumbling voice feeling nice beneath it. Soon, the Snare had drifted off into its dormant state as well, slightly surprising the house-elf who had popped in to check on Severus, who, at that point, was also sleeping. But more on that later... For now, they were simply content.


End file.
