Title: In the Interests of Research
Author: inamac
Characters/Pairings: Severus, Karkaroff, Sylvia-the-Veela
Rating: R
Kinks/Themes Chosen: sex under the influence
Other Warnings: veela, underage smoking (implied)
Word Count: 2250
Summary/Description: Five years after the loss of the Dark Lord, Karkaroff invites Snape to Durmstrang with a proposition and a request.
Author's Notes: Despite the presence of a veela, this kept refusing to go anywhere near D_D standards of perversion. Sorry.


"Really, Severus, you can have no idea what it's like!"

Snape leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the dragon-leather-upholstered fender. Karkaroff's study was a good deal warmer than his own, though that might have had as much to do with the fur throws scattered everywhere and the size of the fireplace, which was easily big enough to Floo an entire Quidditch team, as its location as far from the dank dungeons of Durmstrang as it was possible to get. Outside the tower-room's narrow window he saw a ruffled raven attempting to make headway against the wind. Indoors, in comfort, was definitely the place to be.

"I would have thought," he said, sipping the dark local beer that Igor had commandeered from the castle's brewery, "that having a colony of veela around would be quite – stimulating. Or do you have something against blondes?"

Karkaroff, who was lounging on the high-backed sofa with his own drink propped on his raised knees, scowled. "I never had the chance to get anything against one particular blond," he said. "You rather monopolised Malfoy, in the old days."

"Yes." Snape ran a long finger thoughtfully round the rim of his tankard. "I sometimes wondered whether there is veela blood in old Lucius. He was certainly stimulating – if a bit out of my league these days. But we were discussing your problem."

"Veela." The scowl had not abated though Snape's reminiscence. "As you say, having a colony nearby is stimulating. And it is not the sort of stimulation that is appropriate for schoolboys. Especially when the creatures insist on gathering round the Quidditch pitch during practice sessions. Their presence is not improving the boys' playing."

Snape smiled. "I can imagine. Too busy doing tricks on their broomsticks to impress the spectators than concentrate on the game? Can't the Headmaster Banish them?"

"Not when the Government's just declared them a National Treasure. I wondered whether there was some sort of spell or potion that would make the boys immune."

"Ah." Snape finished his drink and put his tankard down. "I thought there must be a reason you'd invited me here for the Summer."

Karkaroff looked affronted. "I asked you because you're an old friend, and I thought that you might like to get away from some of our 'old friends' for a while. And from Scotland."

"Oh Scotland's alright. But I am grateful to be out of reach of the Ministry. They're still rounding up suspected Death Eaters, you know. And they will drag me into their investigations. It's been five years since the Dark Lord vanished, but Moody acts like it's been five minutes."

The belligerent tone wasn't lost on Karkaroff. He poured more beer for both of them. "If you want to try an Unforgiveable curse on him I can always provide an alibi," he said, in his most unctuous tones.

Snape bit down on a cutting retort. But Karkaroff had never relished intrigue as he did. He wondered what Igor would do if the Dark Lord ever returned. If the fading tattoos they bore on their arms once again burned in summons. Run, probably. Ravenclaws never had the reliability of Hufflepuffs, nor the stubbornness of Gryffindors. And certainly not the subtlety of Slytherins. He shook his head. "No. But you can provide distraction. Tel me about these veela."

"I can do better. I can show you." Karkaroff crossed to the window and flung it open. There was a high keening sound from outside and then something winged and spined dropped from the roof above and scrabbled at the sill with long talons before finding purchase and ducking its head under the arch to squeeze into the room. As the talons touched the carpet it transformed back into a white-haired, ethereally beautiful woman.

"This is Sylvia," said Karkaroff.

"Hello, Sylvia."

The veela frowned and cocked her head with an oddly bird-like gesture. Clearly she wasn't used to being greeted with such indifference. Snape had barely looked at her before burying his nose back into his replenished tankard. Karkaroff compensated by stepping forward and lifting her slender fingers to his lips in formal old-fashioned greeting.

"Don't mind him, my dear. He's old enough and ugly enough to be immune to your charms. Come and sit with me."

"Thank you." She spoke with precision, allowing her tongue to emerge between her pearly, pointed teeth in a way which not only emphasised her diction, but also her allure. Karkaroff hesitated for a moment, ambushed by lust, before guiding her to a place on the sofa. He was aware of Snape watching them, and that the Englishman had not missed his moment of arousal.

In fact Snape was mentally congratulating himself on his own control. The veela's appearance had sent a sudden surge of lust through him, and it had been shock rather than indifference that had sent him back to the beer. That should not happen. The Veela glamour was designed to attract boys at their most sexually receptive, and frustrated, age - just after puberty. It should not affect either himself or Igor. Unless there was some other factor which he had overlooked. If the local veela could have such an effect then perhaps he should consider Igor's request to find some sort of antidote, if only for his own protection. He watched, intrigued, as Sylvia ran her long slender fingers up her host's fur-clad arm to pull him down beside her. Her vibrancy seemed to follow the movement, as if a glow of light had bathed them both. Snape felt it as a warmth drawing him to her – and to Igor. He was half out of his own chair before he realised it.

"Ah," said Karkaroff, "Not quite immune then?"

"Apparently not."

"Well, we are all friends here, are we not?" He turned to nuzzle his face into Sylvia's neck. She giggled, a bell-like sound that had nothing girlish or coquettish about it.

"More than friends," she said, looking up with wide, tempting eyes at Snape.

Karkaroff caught his hesitation. "Please, Severus. I'm sure that you won't object to a little – intimacy? In the interests of research?"

Snape's dark eyes met his. "I would hardly have accepted your invitation if I had not anticipated some resumption of our – intimacy. Contrary to the beliefs of some of my present colleagues I am not made of stone you know."

"Oh yes, I know." Karkaroff reached out his free hand to cup Snape's cheek with his beringed fingers. Snape half-turned to nuzzle into the touch, opening his lips to kiss Karkaroff's palm. The taller man shivered, despite the warmth of the fire and his furs. "And you don't object to a little experiment?"

"When have I ever objected to the pursuit of knowledge?" Experimentally Snape flicked out his tongue to trace the coils of the serpentine tattoo on Karkaroff's forearm. The other man groaned, but did not otherwise respond.

"What would you do," Snape asked, moving up to transfer his attention to Igor's throat, "If it burned again?"

"It won't." Said Karkaroff, flatly. "He's gone."

"There are those who believe this is only a temporary respite. There was never a body."

"I don't think that he would come for me here. Durmstrang has its own protections. As strong as Hogwarts."

"You cannot stay in Durmstrang forever." Snape had expected Igor to protest at the comment, but it was the veela who keened at the mention of her home. Karkaroff turned to gentle her, as a falconer with a hawk, and Snape took the opportunity to slide further into their embrace, settling on the couch between its two occupants. He was scarcely aware when Karkaroff left off his ministrations to Sylvia and both turned their attention, and their hands, to his own body, unbuttoning his shirt, loosening his belt, pushing off his trousers. He was too focussed on his own objective, on burrowing his own hands through Igor's furs to span an almost equally furred chest – really, how could the man feel the cold so much when he had more natural pelt than a werewolf? – and caress the hard raised nubs of his nipples. He squeezed, and Igor yelped. Some things didn't change. "Quiet," he said, moving his other hand up to Igor's throat, and then his chin, gripping the pointed beard in his fingers to pull the other man's mouth open for his tongue.

"I..." Karkaroff managed in response, tightening his grip on Snape's now naked buttock, before Snape emphasised his dominance by arching his body against the other man, demonstrating his arousal as he revelled in the brush of fur over his exposed skin. A small analytical part of his mind registered another touch, featherlight and feathered, against his spine, enhancing his lust. He hadn't felt like this since he had been a teenager, ambushed at every turn by some giggling witch (mainly, he suspected, egged on by the odious Sirius Black and his crony Potter), asking him to demonstrate his wand technique. Mostly he had obliged, and hoped that their reports of the entirely satisfactory demonstrations had got back to the Gryffindor dorm. Certainly after the first few months of their post-OWL year the crude flirtations had abated and he had been free to indulge his preferences with his fellow wizards.

Like Igor. Who had had an uncomplicated and practical attitude to sex that had appealed to Snape. True, "Let's fuck!" left a lot to be desired as foreplay, but at seventeen one was not fussy. At 26 though... They had both learned a little finesse in the intervening years, so he should really not be acting like a veela-infected schoolboy. Even if there was a veela in the room.

So there had to be something else. Even as he succumbed to the bruising grip on his buttocks that pulled him further into their embrace, his mind sought knowledge. "Did you put something in the beer?" he asked.

Karkaroff groaned. "N...nothing more than hops and barley. Should make you... relax. Bastard. Why?"

"Oh, nothing." So alcohol enhanced the veela effect. Snape stored the information away for future reference. Perhaps a variant on a hangover potion might have anti-veela properties? If so... But that was for the future. Now they were both overwhelmed by Sylvia's presence fuelling their own desires.

And his desire right now was to fuck Igor through the floor. The other man had always been delightfully submissive. He had been a gift for the Dark Lord. Quite literally. Snape's breath quickened as he renewed the kiss, remembering how delighted Voldemort had been when a new wizard was brought into his fold.

He hooked a leg around Igor's thigh and tipped them both back onto the length of the sofa. He felt the veela follow him down, her wings curved to enfold them both. Caught between fur and feather, flesh luxuriating in the touch of both. For a moment he lost himself in the body beneath his, pulling in sensations through every orifice, every nerve-ending. Fingertips on skin, lips on hair, tongue on nipple, cock on cock.

Her claws raked at his back and her musk, her glamour, overwhelmed them both. Caught up in it, aroused beyond rational thought, Snape thrust against the body beneath him and was both shocked and gratified when Igor opened himself to the movement, curling his body to allow the head of Snape's ramrod cock to breach him.

The veela half-reared off them both, her wings mantling over them. The grip of her talons moved form Snape's shoulders to Karkaroff's raised ankles, forcing his legs apart and opening him further to Snape's violation and her own heady sex-magic.

Someone screamed. Snape half-thought it might be him, in protest at the grip of magic on his emotions and actions. Had Igor known what he was risking, inviting the veela here?

"Damn you, Severus! Move!"

He did not need the command. The pulsing constriction around his cock was enough. He thrust to completion, scarcely feeling the veela riding him down, her own sex hot and wet against his spine.

+++

It was All Hallows Eve when Karkaroff next heard from Snape. A parcel arrived by Floo-post bearing the potions master's distinctive tiny black scrawl. A Charme Against Lust. Karkaroff opened the box, expecting to find bottles of potion, or a book of instructions. What met his eyes were neat rows of thin, black cigarettes, and ten fat cigars. Karkaroff blinked, checked the label, and then opened the card lying in the box. It held succinct instructions.

I recommend one cigarette to be smoked before contact with any veela – the fumes will counteract the initial glamour for twenty minutes. I do not recommend that you allow boys under the age of sixteen to partake. The cigars are for your own use. Do give Sylvia my regards.

Severus Snape.

~The End~