Title: Let's Slip Away
Author: gracerene
Prompt(s) Used: unusual location for a party & sex toys worn during a party
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Teddy
Word Count: ~1,400
Content/Warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, sex toys, dirty talk, D/s dynamics
Additional Notes: Way longer than intended...Sorry! I tried to think of a clever party location but in the end, the suggestion of the yacht was too tempting to pass up! Unbeta'd

~
"I wanted to thank you, Draco, for offering your yacht for Teddy's party," Andromeda said genially. "It's lovely."

Draco smiled as he took a sip of whisky, noting with not a little amusement that not everybody was so pleased with Draco's generosity. Across the room, Potter and his Weasley friends looked at everything with a faint air of suspicion, but they'd been tactful enough not to protest when Andromeda had announced the location of Teddy's birthday bash. "Thank you, Andromeda. We're family, after all. I thought Teddy deserved to celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday in style."

He glanced over at Teddy, a frisson of pleasure jolting through him when his eyes locked on Teddy's intense gaze. Draco's lips twitched into a smirk, his right hand sliding smoothly into his wand pocket. Next to him, Andromeda continued to sing the praises of the party, and Draco made sure to nod and hum at appropriate intervals, but he was far too focused on the birthday boy himself to pay her much mind. Teddy looked resplendent in a perfectly tailored suit done up in aubergine and cream—an early birthday gift from Draco. The colour looked just as lovely on him as Draco imagined it would. He thought he might ask Teddy to morphe his hair that colour later that night when Draco fucked him through the mattress.

Draco rubbed his thumb against the smooth hawthorn of his wand, before wrapping his fingers around it in a loving caress and triggering the spell he'd been looking forward to all night. His gaze was still locked with Teddy's, so he saw the exact moment Teddy's body registered the vibrations radiating out from the plug in his arse, his eyes going wide and his jaw clenching as he held back a moan. He'd been conversing with some of the Weasley children—Draco couldn't be arsed to learn all of their names—and Albus (all right, Draco knew who that one was at least, hard to avoid it when he was stuck to his son's side like glue) turned to him with something like concern at Teddy's reaction, his hand reaching out to grip Teddy's arm.

Draco felt a flicker of annoyance at the touch, and then further annoyance at the fact that he was annoyed in the first place. His relationship with Teddy was nothing more than an ill-advised dalliance, after all, just something to pass the time until one or both of them came to their senses. He had no right to possessiveness or jealousy, but he flicked his wand all the same, increasing the intensity of the vibrations. Vicious pleasure bubbled in his stomach as Teddy brushed Albus off with a shrug, rose blooming high on Teddy's cheeks. He must have made some excuse, because a moment later he was walking towards Draco, his eyes wild and his gait stilted.

Draco turned to his left, surprised to note that Andromeda had moved on, leaving Draco alone where he leaned against the railing of his yacht. The ocean was a dark expanse behind him, the waves lapping against the side of the boat providing a pleasant undertone to the soft music wafting across the deck.

"Draco," Teddy said as he approached, his voice low and wrecked already. Draco's trousers felt a little tighter.

"Enjoying your party, Teddy?" Draco asked lightly. "The Persimmon Bruschetta canapé was particularly de—"

"Draco," Teddy interrupted. He was so close they were practically touching, close enough that Draco could see Teddy's blown-out pupils edging out the warm brown of his irises. "Please?"

"Now, now, Teddy. I told you I'd take care of you after your party, as long as you were a good boy for me, did I not?"

"Yes," Teddy said breathlessly. "You did."

"And does it look like your party is over?"

Teddy dutifully turned around to survey his guests, still talking and dancing and mingling. There were certainly fewer people than there'd been at the beginning of the night, but Draco would guess they had several hours more before the rest cleared off.

"No," Teddy finally replied, a petulant whine in his tone. "But more than half the party consists of Weasleys, and you know how much they all enjoy a good party. They'll be here for hours yet!"

Draco hummed, suppressing an amused smile. "Yes, that does seem likely."

Before Teddy could respond, Draco flicked his wand again, kicking up the vibrations another notch, just to watch Teddy squirm. His pretty mouth opened on a soundless moan, and Draco's cock twitched.

"Please, Draco," Teddy begged when he finally found his voice again. "Please. Take me to one of the bedrooms below deck. We'll be quick. Nobody will even notice we're gone." He stepped closer as if to lean over the railing and look into the abyss, his lips a hair's breadth away from Draco's ear. "I'm so loose and open, you'll be able to bend me over and just slide right in. I'll make it so good for you, Draco. Don't you want to fuck me?"

"I thought I told you to be good. This doesn't seem like good behaviour to me." Draco tried to sound disapproving and unaffected, but he knew he missed the mark. His voice was low and shaky with lust, and he could tell by the gleam in Teddy's eye that Teddy knew just as well as Draco did that Draco was going to give in to Teddy's pleas. Draco never could hold out against Teddy for long. It was how they'd got into this mess of a relationship in the first place.

Title: It's My Party and I'll LIck Pussy if I Want To (part 2)
Artist: mywitch
Prompt(s) Used: party hat
Characters/Pairings: Severus Snape/Minerva Mcgonagall
Content/Warnings: cunnilingus!
Additional Notes: (optional) This prompt reminded me of the piece I did for the DD Birthday Bash last year where Snape is eaing pussy more literally... thought I'd give him a break this time for the Real Thing

I'm in awe. You are a GODDESS of art. I lack the words to say how good this is. *Melts.*

UNF!!!!

DAMN! Now that's a party. I love your style. UNF.

Title: By Personal Invitation Only, or: The Potions Master Entertains
Artist: milotzi
Prompt(s) Used: private party
Characters/Pairings: The Potions Master/Albus Dumbledore/Filius Flitwick, The Potions Master/Minerva McGonagall
Content/Warnings: People Having a Good Time, Threesome, Full Frontal Nudity, Alcohol, Books, NC-17
Additional Notes: Different people have different ideas of what constitutes a good party. Horace Slughorn and Severus Snape certainly do. As you can see, each of them is a good host, in his own way.

Oh, bastard!Sex god!Draco is DIVINE. Great pairing and the whole setting and scenario was so hot and wrong and delicious <3

Title: Packs A Punch
Author: unbroken_halo
Prompt(s) Used: spiked punch
Characters/Pairings: Severus/Sirius
Word Count: 341
Content/Warnings: implied drug use
Additional Notes: Wow! It's been awhile since I put words to um… paper. Here's hoping it worked out well, two more posts to follow.

Severus knew better than to imbibe anything at a party where there were Weasleys present. And he'd done well right up to the moment when Sirius leaned in and gave him a sloppy punch-flavoured kiss. Though the initial taste was of Sirius and Pimm's, he could also detect something else in the sweetness of the strawberries and oranges with the first swipe of his tongue. Underlying that there was a spicy nutmeg and bitter chocolate impression that the sweetness couldn't quite hide from his palate. Crisp cucumber finished the snog when Sirius withdrew and Severus sucked in a breath as he was dragged into the nearest closet.

Muffled voices and laughter echoed through the door and Severus' head swam as Sirius pressed him to the wall. Driving his hands into Sirius' thick curls and clenching his fists, Severus hung on while Sirius ripped the buttons from his robes. Open-mouth and wet kisses trailed along his skin further saturating his senses with whatever draught the ginger menaces had added to the classic Pimm's punch.

With a groan, Severus deduced the last ingredient as he licked his lips one more time tasting mint and Sirius wrapped his mouth around Severus's cock. Heat from the herb and Sirius' mouth enveloped him. Sirius added a hum that overloaded his senses and almost completely shut down his brain. Thrusting forward into Sirius' mouth, Severus moaned and hissed out encouragement while Sirius did his level best to swallow him whole.

With a pat on his thigh, Sirius gave him permission to fuck his mouth and Severus did so with abandon. The slurping sounds were loud in the small confines of the closet and Severus gave a shout as his body drew up tight, his release filling Sirius' throat.

Gentle licks forced a shudder along Severus' body and Sirius used his robes to pull himself to his feet. The bitter tang of his come mingled with the lingering Pimm's and Severus sighed as he wrapped his arms around Sirius to Apparate them home to finish out the festivities.

Title: Titillating
Author: unbroken_halo
Prompt(s) Used: naughty book/erotic story reading party
Characters/Pairings: Lavender/Ginny
Word Count: 435
Content/Warnings: Public masterbation
Additional Notes: I make no apologies for bad poetry.

Only a few candles gifted the room their flicking flames, shrouding the occupants in greyness. She made her way to a particularly shadowed corner and settled into the chair awaiting the reader. A woman stepped onto the stages moments after she was comfortable and Ginny recognized her with a slight shock. The low light dimmed even further, hiding the scars on Lavender's ravaged face.

She cleared her throat, the Sonorous spell a mere whisper on the air before she began to recite. Her voice was low and husky. The sound reached out and wrapped itself around Ginny before the recitation could even begin to entice her.

"Your hands on my skin, tracing the words we dare not speak. The meanings come across loud and clear with each gentle caress."

The timbre, quietly feminine yet deep and low, made her quiver in her seat. Her hands clench in her robes, bunching the material between her fingers, the blunt tips of her nails digging into her flesh as she tried to hold off.

"Lips enhance the gentle flow of emotion, accented by each stroke of the hand. Teeth punctuate each whisper, bringing our reality into sharp relief."

Words, like magic, flowed into the room, whispering sweet nothings for everyone to join her giving Ginny no choice but to comply. The beauty of the combination stole her breath and she denied herself no longer. Robes slid up her thighs, exposing pale skin to the air. She shivered, even as Lavender continued to speak, and she sighed when her fingers glanced over damp skin. Between her folds, she slipped, pressed cool fingers against the warm flesh.

Slow, deliberate movements in cadence with Lavender's voice brought Ginny closer to orgasm. Her breath sped, but just like the words, kept her pace slow and deliberate. She pressed deeper, rocking in the seat to the rhythm Lavender began. She closed her eyes, fingers steadily pushing her to the final climax and yet she focused on the sounds of her breath as Lavender gave the final lines.

"The poetry of our embrace, forever written on our skin as you and I come closer, joining together and made one."

She gasped, dampness spreading across her fingers as the rest of the audience snapped their appreciation. She looked up and found Lavender's eyes on her. She breathed heavily, her smile lazy, and she nodded at Ginny as if she'd finished along with her. The room darkened fully and yet Ginny could still feel her gaze upon her skin. She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder.

"Join Lavender backstage, miss?"

"Yes," she breathed and stood.

Title: Slow Hands
Author: unbroken_halo
Prompt(s) Used: jealous at someone else's anniversary celebration
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Parvati, Harry/Hermione
Word Count: 656
Content/Warnings: naughty but not quite dirty talk, public heavy petting
Additional Notes: Sorry, this is the least smutty of them all. And yes, I was listening to Niall Horan.

"Ugh, why am I here?" She knew it was bitterness to watch the gentle kiss between her friends to turn her stomach. She also knew it wasn't healthy to feel such resentment at the situation. She and Ron had tried, but ultimately failed to find that right connection. She sipped her wine and turned away from the happy couple as another gift was passed their way. She should leave. It would be better that way. In her distracted ruminations, she ran right smack into someone.

She gasped and looked up into Harry's face. She swallowed when his hands continued to hold her shoulders, kept them both steady and upright.

"Running away so soon?" He leaned in, murmured the words against her ear. His breath was warm through her hair and ghosted across her skin.

Hermione shook her head but then shrugged. Harry chuckled, and once more the sound of his voice skittered across her senses. She turned to face Ron and Parvati just in time to see them lean close again and share another tender kiss. This time she couldn't contain the snort of disappointment.

Harry's arms came about her and she reclined against him. His body heat surrounded her and she snuggled further in his embrace. "There's no need to be bitter, love."

The whisper reminded her of Harry's own failed relationships. "Sorry, I just…"

"Shh," Harry's mouth was close to her ear again and she jumped when she thought she felt his lips tug on her earlobe.

"I completely understand, darling. Seems everyone is finding their someone and yet, both of us remain out of love's elusive grasp."

Hermione chuckled. "So disappointingly poetic, Harry. How much have you imbibed tonight?"

His arms tightened around her, before his hands slid down her body. Fingers lingered on her hips, pulling her even closer against his body, snuggling all of their angles and planes neatly together.

"Just enough to gather my courage up and proposition you," Harry muttered and then kissed the side of her neck.

"Oh," Hermione breathed; she'd not realized or even considered Harry a possibility. The thought intrigued her and she shifted in his arms. Harry loosened his grip and she gave a soft sound of discontent.

"My apologies," Harry said, tugging her back against him. "Shall I offer you a distraction whilst we remain polite and stay?"

"I would be terribly disappointed to be ousted from this position."

Humming, Harry kissed her just behind her ear, then ran the tip of his tongue across the shell of her ear, his warm breath sending shudders through her. "Perhaps I can offer you a better position... in the circle of my arms."

Anticipation shivered through her, ramping up her daring. "I am open to the many possibilities... especially those between your thighs," Hermione offered in a husky tone and sipped her wine again, Ron and Parvati an after thought as she felt Harry's cock move against her arse. She pressed back against him and was rewarded with a sharp intake of air near her ear.

Harry's hand pulled her skirt taunt, his fingers stroking up and down her leg, moving ever closer to her center. His other hand slid up her stomach, nails tickling her skin through the buttons of her blouse until the heat of his palm cupped her breast. She moved her arms, hiding his hand and gasping when he tweaked her nipple through the cloth.

"On your back, with me inside you, filling you," Harry offered. He pressed his hand flat against her crotch, pushing her back against his prick.

"On top, riding you with abandon as you writhe beneath me," Hermione countered, rubbing against him.

"Both," Harry agreed. "I want to taste you, lick you, fuck you."

"Swallow you down," she answered, her voice almost as breathy as his. "Soon."

"Tonight," he answered.

"Now," she demanded. Hermione turned, wrapped her arms about his neck and Apparated them away with a crack.

Title: Her Waiting Mouth
Author: sdk
Prompt(s) Used: tied up with a bow
Characters/Pairings: Pansy/Hermione
Word Count: 337 words
Content/Warnings: Light bondage, Cunnilingus, First Person POV
Additional Notes: Thanks to lqtraintracks for the once-over!


She twirled the blindfold in her hand. "Granger," she asked, a challenge in the arch of her brow, "want to try something new?"

I licked my lips and nodded.

"You won't know who I am," she said. "Where I touch, where I taste. Not until you feel it."

And so I lie here on the bed in the dark, wrists wrapped in silk. The only sound I hear is the shuddering of my own breath as I wait, like a present to be unwrapped, like a gift bestowed to whomever walks in the door.

Her footsteps are light, but I hear the click of her heels as she enters the room. I imagine her eyes assessing me, the flutter of my stomach, the catch in my breath. The bed dips. Her hands come to my thighs and I inhale sharply. Thumbs circling up my hips, fingertips grazing towards the centre of me, in between my parted legs. Suddenly her mouth catches me off guard. A quick dip of her tongue to my breasts, a slow kiss along the skin between them. I want to touch her, sink my hands into her slick black bob, pull on her hair as I know she likes it. Instead I clench my hands in bound silk and let her do what she wants.

She chuckles into my skin; I imagine she can see me struggle. Her fingers slide under the elastic of my knickers and pull them off in one smooth stroke. Her mouth descends and my legs spread automatically. She fists my breast and licks inside me. I buck into her mouth as moans fall out of mine. Pleasure skitters over my skin, radiates through me, throughout the whole room. She brings me to the edge so quickly, so deliciously. I ride it as far as I can, moaning her name, for she is wrong. I will always know her, by touch, by smell--a blindfold can't erase her.

"Pansy," I breathe. And I fall apart into her waiting mouth.

Title: Ribbons and Beaux
Author: milotzi
Prompt(s) Used:ribbons and bows, first line from Celebrate by Three Dog Night “Ready or not, gonna make it to the city”, party game, honorific celebration -- i.e. an event to honour someone, bestow an award etc./celebrity party in the city (Celebrate by Three Dog Night),A May-December Relationship: an anniversary they never thought they'd get to see
Characters/Pairings:Minerva/Dougal, Minerva/various unnamed partners, Minerva/Elphinstone, Minerva/Severus, Hermione/Severus, Hermione/Ron, Hermione/Neville, Minerva's parents, Granny McGonagall
Word Count: 6927
Content/Warnings: Life narrative informed by porn: pornography, male/male, male/female, female/female (mentioned) prostitution, ribbon fetish, boots, anal sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, old age sex, adultery, masturbation, sex toys (mentioned), spikes (mentioned), dangerous sex games (mentioned), sex in a public place, sex in a former office, sex in unspecified locations, death by Venomous Tentacula, NC17, mostly Minerva POV. Parties get a mention but also other things, Minerva can't sleep after her anniversary and thinks about things and takes some action
Additional Notes:
A snood is a traditional Highland ribbon worn by girls until they get married
A bampot is an idiot
The Lady of the Lake (Scott), see also note 636 for snood
Explanation of Highland Dress for Women
image of girl with snood
Lady Godiva

1. Foreword

When does a couple's story start? When the older of the two is born? With his or in our case her first memories? And you do realize that if there is quite an age gap it might take a while until the younger of the two turns up in that case. So does the story start with the first time they clap eyes on each other, with their first date if they have any, with their first sex, their first quarrel? Does it matter as long they live and occasionally celebrate their togetherness?

2. Introduction

The older she gets the more Minerva McGonagall enjoys lying awake in the dark early hours of the morning, with only her thoughts and her memories and the sometimes not so gentle snores of the man lying by her side as company. There were times in her life when she dreaded those hours as the time of personal reckoning, worrying and regret but now she welcomes the chance to order her thoughts for the day, to think about what happened in their lives recently, and, increasingly, to revisit the past and count her blessings. Especially when they have had a few drinks and ended up physically exerting themselves as they did the night before, he is fast asleep and she is wide awake at 4 a.m. Were she alone she would probably perform a lumos spell and read but, since she is not and does not wish to disturb his sleep, she allows herself to mull over memories instead.

She has already gone through all the lovely details of the anniversary party they had yesterday, at least three times, the dinner, the wine, the whiskey, the music, the fireplace, the sex. They agreed on the day that lies exactly between their birthdays in January and October and the number of years they should celebrate as being together a while ago because they cannot really agree exactly from what moment on they should count their being together, that moment in the shop and then the question is what to subtract for the time they weren't together, or that moment in front of the hotel, or some time in between. Anyway it has been a long time, and they are both much older and much wiser than they ever thought they would be. She thinks of her Granny McGonagall and how very young compared to herself she was when she died although not young for a Muggle and wonders how her younger self would have regarded her present self. Despite the fact that she has found true love not very highly, she fears, since they never felt the need to get married.

3. Ribbons

Before her brothers were born, that cold Highland parish house, her parents' icy silences and – somehow even worse – the sound of their very audible if infrequent nightly reconciliations were made bearable by three factors: the joy of magic, which permeated her life from very early on, her cat, and books, which she very soon learned to read herself. Favourite authors were Rabie Burns and Walter Scott, and her favourite work of literature well into her late teens was the latter's Lady of the Lake. The reason for this preference was not only the Scottish theme or the poetic power of the bard but also that she identified strongly with the heroine of the poem, not least for her looks, ever since she had read this description of her physical appearance:

A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid;
Her satin snood, her silken plaid,
Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed.
And seldom was a snood amid
Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid,
Whose glossy black to shame might bring
The plumage of the raven's wing
(Cantos I, XIX)

Wasn't it obvious that Minerva's own hair could be described in that manner?

Minerva begged a red satin ribbon off her Granny McGonagall and began wearing her hair tied together with it according to the fashion of the snood of the Highland lasses of yore, and she continued to do so when home from Hogwarts, where the fashion of the day and the necessities of Quidditch made plaits the preferable hairstyle. At home, however, Highland Romance beat school fashion and sport: Each and every school holiday, from ages 11 to 18, Minerva unbraided her plaits and tied her hair together with the old satin ribbon (or a newer acquisition) immediately after she had exchanged her school uniform with a tartan pinafore dress or skirt and blouse ensemble and a plaid scarf. Thus attired she and the gang of local lads her grandmother used to indiscriminately refer to as her “beaux” roamed the mountains, lochs and glens of the neighbourhood whenever she could tear herself away from her reading.

As she grew from a lanky, gangly child into a bonny lass with long legs, pert breasts and sweet lips, many among the “beaux” and her fellow young wizards at school might have liked more than the quick kiss she might have been willing to grant to one or the other of them but Minerva was having none of it. She would be married to her true love – whosoever he turned out to be - a maiden and it would be him who would slowly remove the snood from her hair on their wedding night and then –

For quite some time, Minerva had no idea of what “then” might involve apart from maybe kissing, only that she expected it would lead to her life being utterly changed. When she had just turned 17, she discovered her father's stash of Victorian and Edwardian smut and had been in equal measure appalled and shamefully aroused by descriptions and depictions of giant penises rubbed against each other, or of male members pushed into anuses, held by male hands or swallowed by male mouths as well as of various gardening and other implements being put to imaginative uses. There seemed no female role in all of this, except to wield the whip or place the heel of a laced boot against the buttocks of a hapless gentleman. Finding her parents' copy of Married Love with its references to and charts of female sex-tides ebbing and flowing had not been very helpful either. On the contrary, its insistence on the incompatibility of men and women meant that Minerva began to worry that “then” might not be as pleasant as she hoped. It all remained quite a mystery.

Despite a lack of any real knowledge about female sexuality or about how to give and receive sexual gratification when with a partner, Minerva was aware of having sexual impulses. A chance discovery of the pleasures of first gently stroking herself between her legs with one hand, while her other hand played with her hair and her snood, massaged a lucky breast or was put in her mouth and sucked on, and of then rubbing herself with increasing urgency until her underpants were drenched, her private parts swollen and her insides vibrating, led to many an orgasm in many a night. Further discoveries of a more magical nature involving Vibrato and temperature spells followed and were eagerly pursued.

Furthermore there were the ribbons. Ever since she had begged that first satin ribbon off her grandmother, Minerva had had a love for ribbons - lacy, silken, velvety or satin ribbons, preferably in witch colours like black, red or green, or, best of all, tartan. Over the years she had accumulated a large collection in an old Romeo y Julieta cigar box originally owned by a visiting McKittrick Ross relative and rescued by Minerva from being destroyed in the kitchen fire. In addition to everything else, Minerva's nightly routines began involving tying ribbons of varying textures around her chest, her stomach, her legs and her arms before doing anything else. Thus her hands roamed over a body not quite naked but not completely dressed, not quite bound but not completely free, not completely maiden but not completely wanton either. In her imagination she was tied to a post on a mountain top in the hot sun, kept shackled to the wall as a prisoner in an icy and dark prison cell, condemned to stay alone in the chamber of a castle in her underwear by an evil guardian or working as a nude servant girl bedecked with a frilly apron in the middle of a courtly feast to honour Lord Darnley on his arrival in Scotland. A knight in shining armour or a princely gentleman would find and rescue her, marry her and in the privacy of their bedchamber kiss her and explore every inch of her body with his warm hands. Alternative scenarios involved her saving the knight or gentleman, sometimes in her cat form, wearing those high-heeled laced boots that were the only kink that survived in her fantasies, sometimes in the nude sitting astride a horse like Lady Godiva. In those fantasies she got to explore a nearly naked body and a huge erect manhood with her feminine hands. And the potential of “then” became a bit clearer in her mind.

Sometimes when Minerva remembers her younger self she wants to laugh but thinking of those nights of self-inflicted pleasure also evokes memories of being young and freshly alive to the potential of passion. Tonight as on other nights when she thinks of herself this way, she pushes her nightshift over her head and begins to softly stroke the sensitive skin of her thighs, stomach and breasts. At her age her body is way past in its physical prime but her senses, her instincts and her ability to respond are still there even though they may have slowed down a bit. As in her youth she kneads her breasts and instead of a ribbon sucks her braided hair, She finds that place between her legs that by now has been so often pleasured by other hands than her own and she begins the old game of cautious exploration followed by more forceful action. She knows how to use her fingers more deftly and uses both hands to stimulate her clitoris and vagina just the way she has learnt will make her come in this still miraculous explosion of lust. She is careful not to disturb the sleeping man beside her; nothing would induce her to hurt him knowingly. While she kneads and strokes and her juices start flowing, her mind leaves her distant past behind and turns to recent and more distant memories of his hands moving over her body, his mouth and tongue sucking and licking her clitoris and his cock, oh his cock filling her mouth, her vagina and her arse. And then she comes, screaming with lust inside but keeping still because he is asleep. If she is lucky what she has just recreated in her imagination will happen again first thing in the morning, if he wakes up pain-free and with his morning erection needing some loving attention. In the mean time, her lust sated, her thoughts turn back to her distant past.


4. Minverva and her Beaux

4.1. Dougal

Her knight in shining armour was called Dougal McGregor, only he wasn't a knight or prince but a local lad with broad shoulders and with hands already showing the signs of manual labour on his father's farm. He was one of the boys her granny had referred to as her beaux, and in truth he had been the one they both liked best because of his golden hair, his blue eyes and his beautiful smile. Minerva only really fell in love with him in the summer after finishing school when she was about to leave for a job in the city, London, not Edinburgh. But since Minerva never did things by halves, she fell for Dougal head over heels, completely and utterly, with no thought of the consequences.

Today Minerva is able to think of Dougal and what was and what wasn't between them. There was a time when what he did and what he didn't do, what she did and what she didn't do and how he and his family died was an absolutely taboo topic but not any more. However, she also doesn't keep obsessing about the ins and outs of their brief courtship and even briefer engagement, its sudden end because of her own agonised decision to leave him and have a career in the city instead and the horror of his end every time she thinks of him either. Instead, when something from their past comes to her mind she is happy to confront it or think it through. Tonight she has started thinking about ribbons and it occurs to her that she should have known he was not the man for her right after the first time they had sex.

Yes, Minerva never did things by halves and Gryffindor courage (or Gryffindor recklessness as Severus would have put it had he been born then and able to observe her behaviour) could have easily led to far worse consequences than a lost maidenhood the second time they met to make out in the field behind the old shack on his father's farm. Minerva sometimes wonders what her life would have turned out to be had she become pregnant but these are fleeting thoughts these days. Their sex that afternoon was beautiful if quickly over and Minerva cannot remember what came over her to do what she did or why exactly she did what she did afterwards. Maybe she considered her virginity of which her snood was a symbol as a present that bound them together or maybe, in the afterglow of her first sexual encounter with another person than herself she thought of the fantasy life she had lead only so recently. What she remembers is his reaction of utter humiliation, anger and disgust when he woke up and found that she had taken off her red satin ribbon and bound it around his hair. “Are you thinking I'm a bampot to mock me so? Have I not proven my manhood to ye? I'm no lassie.” He had torn the ribbon off his head and thrown it far away as if it was a dangerous snake, and stormed off. She had apologized the next time she saw him. He had accepted her apology and even spent an hour looking for her snood in his father's field. He could not know that she had already accio'ed it because it had been given to her by her granny and she wanted to keep it. After he gave up looking they had had sex again. For her this meant that after learning the joy of being with someone and learning that one person's fantasy could be another person's nightmare she also learned that sex was a great means to make up after a quarrel. Their second time had been even better than their first for her but again she had been somewhat too forward. What she thought of as the normal expression of her love upset her young beau's perception of what girls were and did. He had been distinctly perturbed if also highly excited by her willingness not only to rub his manhood into an erection but also to put her sweet lips around its tip and move her tongue down and up his shaft in the most stimulating manner, like a cat licking a bowl of milk. When she tried to straddle him he would not allow it but gently pushed her on her back and lifted her legs to once more lose himself in her. She assumes that had she been less obviously innocent in other ways and just another country lass instead of the minister's daughter and had he not thought himself in love with her also, he would not have done what he did when they were about to go to their respective homes, which was fall on his knees and propose.

Minerva knows that she did not even consider the sex they had had when, after a night of agony, she decided to give Dougal up in favour of the career in the city she was dreaming of. When she thinks of how much the binding of ribbons around her body has continued to arouse her and how many of her lovers have playfully joined in her ribbon games she knows, however, that even had she not wished for a career her marriage to her first love would have been a mistake even though she remained stubbornly in love with the boy for so many years and had so dreadfully minded his marriage. Over the years she has discovered many new uses for her beloved ribbons, from asking her lover to tickle and stimulate her in sensitive places or to tease her as if she was in her cat shape to more advanced sex magic involving various transfiguration and other spells. Even now, as she has learnt to deeply enjoy simple and straightforward forms of sex, she would miss her ribbons if she had to give them up altogether. Thank Merlin she doesn't.

4.2. After Dougal / Elphinstone

Her continued love for Dougal had not meant that she had resumed the ways of a maiden. On the contrary, in her London days and to some extent also at Hogwarts, Minerva had an active and enjoyable sex life, with partners of both sexes. The only ones she took home to her family home were a few of the eager young men who had passed through her bed, to some extent to assure Dougal via the ensuing local gossip that she was so over him and did not mind his marriage at all. While her parents quietly disapproved, each for different reasons, and her brothers either weren't there or didn't care, her grandmother continued to kindly accept any boys Minerva brought to her family home, however briefly her acquaintance with them might be, as Minerva's new beaux. Even when Elphinstone Urquart, her former boss, had visited one summer on a trip to Scotland, Granny McGonagall, by then an increasingly feeble and deaf 75-year old, who did not partake in conversations much anymore except when asked about her youth, piped up to welcome Minerva's latest beau. Minerva had blushed furiously but Elphinstone, always the gentleman and obviously quite smitten with Minerva, had politely kissed the old lady's hand and said in his booming voice, “Alas, dear lady, just her former boss and not one of her beaux.” He had then kindly sat with the old woman and exchanged stories of the olden days until it was time to leave. Minerva decided there and then that while her heart belonged to Dougal, Elphinstone was a fine wizard and a good man and he would make some lucky witch a great husband if he ever stopped that nonsensical pursuit of her own affections.

Of course he didn't. They became friends and in later years even had the occasional tryst after Elphinstone had assured her that he respected her feelings and would not intrude upon them. Their first time together was the result of Minerva's instinctual habit to pick up or pull loose threads or dangling ribbons, which normally she had well in hand when confronted with strangers, colleagues or pupils. She had been invited to Elph's retirement do in the Ministry, which had turned out to also be the occasion on which he was awarded an Order of Merlin, 3rd class, for services rendered. It was one of the better parties of this kind. Drinks had flown freely, and a good time was had by all. Elphinstone asked a few of his closer friends back into the room which would cease to be his office the next day. Bereft of any furniture but an old sofa and a desk stacked with more bottles than really should have fit on it, the room was ideal for that kind of after-party party. More drinks were had, more speeches were held and more jokes were told until the early hours of the next day. She was the last guest and was about to take her leave from her friend, when she spotted what seemed to be a loose red thread or ribbon trying to escape from the black bow tie he wore and she could not resist pulling. Elphinstone grinned at her astonishment when not only the thread came off but the bow, the shirt, the trews, the dress robe and even his silk stockings and suspenders, which all vanished, with the exception of his vest and underpants. The latter's shape immediately began to reveal how he felt about being almost naked standing so close to her. “Magic thread,” he murmured, his face reddening and the bulge in his underpants becoming bigger, “Returns hired dress robe and formal outfit to Twilfitt and Tatting's. Have never bought my own. Underwear mine though.”

Obviously darning spells were not in that dear man's repertoire so that both the vest and the underpants, obviously quite ancient if clean, showed the odd bit of skin where they shouldn't. And again Minerva was touched by Elphinstone's sweet nature because he was so obviously getting uncomfortable with revealing so much about and of himself to a younger woman he was mad about but who had made it abundantly clear that there could be nothing but friendship between them. Being slightly drunk meant that she was more bold than usual, so she kissed him gently and then put her hand on his half-erection and started gently rubbing him. A few spells removed his underwear and her clothes and minutes later they were disporting themselves on the lone sofa.

They proved to be surprisingly sexually compatible and until she finally said yes to dear Elph a few years later, their occasional trysts were a joy to her as long as he did not overstep that emotional mark she had demanded he stick to. It turned out that Elph adored her ribbon fetish, loved being bound by her and was adept at learning how to arouse her. Later when they were already married he admitted to her that he actually preferred ropes to ribbons, loved to have something tied around his neck tightly and adored being whipped by a lovely girl in high-heeled boots. And spikes. And enjoyed really exclusive sex parties with various erotic games involving various dangerous situations and near-death experiences. Minerva did not share his enthusiasm for all of this completely. However, being of an adventurous nature and aware since her youth that wizards might have different needs from witches just like men did from women, she happily complied with what she felt comfortable with. And if for some of the more extreme forms of sexual gratification dear Elph wanted the help of strangers rather than hers so be it. After all Minerva herself had had a varied and diverse sex life with quite a number of partners and would not begrudge the man his happiness. As he would not begrudge her the occasional sexual encounter with a third party.

When Minerva thinks back to this time she is amazed at her lack of self-awareness. How could an otherwise honest and straightforward person have been so stupid. When she remembers how torn and unhappy she was during those later years of her life when Severus found gratification in another witch's arms she knows that, while very happy and content with leading a happy and contented life with her dear husband, she never really loved him at all. And she cannot help wondering, as she used to with Dougal, whether if she had been a different person and loved dear Elphinstone the way he needed to be loved and hadn't embraced that stupid idea of his how an open marriage would be the best for them both as long as they looked after each other, he would still be alive. Because when the accident happened and she returned home to their cottage in Hogsmeade to find him killed by that bloody Venomous Tentacula after one of his personal parties she also found two shocked and shaking Knockturn Alley prostitutes wearing nothing but long-heeled boots and party hats there, whom she had to calm down, dress in some old tartan dresses and comfort with cups of hot tea and biscuits before sending them back to London by floo. And of course, everything was hushed up as best as possible. She got rid of the sex toys and the cottage and tried to move on. Didn't she have a professional life to lead that she had always prized more highly than any personal entanglements?

4.3. Elphinstone / Severus

Minerva has set herself certain times during the year that she thinks about poor Elphinstone, his birthday, their wedding anniversary, the anniversary of his death but she does not dwell on her marriage and its aftermath. Except that that was also the time she started noticing how attracted to the young potions master she really was and had first given in to the temptation he was. And although she isn't proud of her timing, she has never felt as alive as during those first years of clandestine meetings, of ups and downs, of bouts of furious fornication followed by frustrating months of nothing at all except their usual staffroom banter or a formal nod on the corridors, or, worst of all, a complete absence of communication during the Hogwarts vacation. Those years were full of sweet friendship, sex, quarrels and reconciliation all while they pretended to be nothing but colleagues, sometimes even to themselves, first because of her marriage, his past and the age gap, then because of the looming catastrophe of the second war.

In the middle of her second year of marriage it suddenly struck her how grown-up and manly the pale boy and gangly youth she remembered as a student had turned out to be now that he was a colleague. While still given to tantrums on occasion, his suggestions during the staff conferences were intelligent and his dry sense of humour matched her own. He was ambitious for himself and his house and since Slytherin and Gryffindor were old rivals that became part of the pattern of their relationship. They started betting and then began sharing certain staff duties mainly because they complemented each other well. Colleagues would talk to one and assume the other one would know what had been said. And in the middle of another endless staff meeting is suddenly struck her how very attractive he was. She was mesmerized by his eyes, his hands and his body and his voice sent shivers down her spine even though he was only discussing Quidditch practice arrangements for his Slytherins. At first she thought she must have caught a spell or a bug but that was not the case. So she started avoiding him for a bit until she was in full control of herself again, or so she thought.

Minerva loves remembering what led to the first time they had sex. It all started on a sunny afternoon when she was going to Gladrags Wizardwear in Hogsmeade village to collect various kinds of ribbons she had ordered in, not for any private use but for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s in advanced transfiguration. Students already knew what the task would be, the traditional double-triple hat trick spell combination, a triple transfiguration of a given piece of coloured ribbon (of silk, satin, velvet, lace, hemp, cotton or any other material ribbons could be made of) into a specific type of snake into a certain kind of rod or staff (wooden or metal), into a rivulet of liquid, which they than had to transfigure back into the same kind of thing (staff/rod, snake, ribbon) but of different material or species. The possibilities were endless. Since the exam involved animate as well as inanimate objects of transfiguration, different states and variations of the same kind of object, it tested a range of different transfiguration skills and theoretical as well as applied knowledge. Minerva always made sure to publicly order the full range of possible materials so students would not get any idea what kind of ribbon their exam would start with. Usually Hagrid or Filius accompanied her to the shop to make the whole process look more official but that particular year it was Severus's task as the newly appointed head of house of Slytherin.

They both remembered his own not quite perfect double-triple hat trick spell exam when he did his N.E.W.Ts not so many years ago; she remembered how focused he had been, how thin and how pale; he remembered how his rivulet actually had been a full spray of hot evaporating liquid drops and how he had had to add an extra transfiguration spell to turn the cloud that had formed into an actual rivulet. These memories might have interfered with what happened later but when Severus watched Minerva check the quality of each and every coil of ribbon she had ordered by carefully touching their surface and tearing at them a little, he observed how the dexterity of her fingers resembled that of an expert potioneer and an unbidden image of what these fingers might do if applied to the right places of his anatomy arose in his mind. It was a moment he often told her about in a quick whisper when stroking her hand under the staff table so that none of their students or fellow teacher would notice. On that day in Gladrags, however, she did not know that he was half-aroused and half-panicked when he slowly stroked her finger as she let it glide over a smooth green silk ribbon and whispered in her ear, “You do know that they are singing ribald songs about your double-triple hat trick exam in all wizarding pubs in Britain to the effect that a couple of proper wizards wearing nothing but lace underneath their robes do not need transfiguration to turn their snakes into rods and that with a little bit of mutual help, the rivulets will follow.” This was actually true and she had heard the song many a time but to hear such filth spoken by his voice in such a public place was unexpected. She leant into him and felt his erection and thought, yes I want this.

Of course none of this ended well, neither their first affair or relationship, nor their second, despite their friendship, the way they enjoyed each other sexually and the way they complemented each other. While they grew closer over the years, and a few select friends had been made aware of them being an item of sorts, it had all come to an abrupt stop when Dumbledore died and Severus Snape became headmaster and seemed to prove to be Voldemort's lackey after all. And then that turned out to be a lie but one she had been made to believe and she found that hard to forgive. They did find each other again during the time of the restoration of Hogwarts when she was headmistress but things weren't the same. When after a little less than a decade, he had admitted to an affair with Hermione Granger-as-was-to-be-again and told her they both had decided to leave their respective partners to start afresh together she had not even been very surprised and had agreed that that was probably for the best. She was getting on in years and it was time to concentrate on what she did best, teaching and running a school without the distraction of a volatile and much younger lover. Who needed more attention than she had time to give. Who she was better off not to have in her private life. Who she never realized until it was too late was the love of her life. Whose absence in her private life caused her to feel a pain and a sense of betrayal that went deeper than the one she had felt when she thought he was Voldermort's man. Not that she told him any of this. Instead she suffered in silence, burying herself in her various tasks and adding more responsibilities to her schedule. In their professional lives they continued to complement each other and at each and every bloody staff-cum-significant-other party over the next two years, she smiled like a bloody Cheshire cat and lied more than she had lied during Voldemort's apparent reign over the school. Every night she went to bed with the hope that maybe if she was lucky she would not have to wake up the next morning. And then she retired.

A few years later Hermione had visited her. She was in a flood of tears and apologized for past bad behaviour (as if Minerva had a leg to stand on when it came to that, but she wasn't sure whether Hermione was aware of that), told her she was pregnant by her former husband Ron (again) and that that had broken up her current affair with the new headmaster, Neville Longbottom. Minerva provided tea and biscuits, as seemed to be her role in life, and was glad when Hermione left. She was a nice enough witch but her private life was really none of Minerva's business. She had not asked her where Severus was or how he was and Hermione had not offered any information. Minerva decided to let sleeping dogs lie. She had barely emotionally put herself together and was quite content on her own. She hadn't heard from Severus in a long time.

A year or so later Minerva travelled to a wizarding teaching convention in L.A. Her main reason for attending – apart from the fact that she had never visited the U.S. and thought it might be worth a visit before she became too decrepit – was that she was going to be honoured with the International American Witching Merit Award for her work to find a way to bring into closer cooperation different wizarding national education systems during her time as headmistress, a side show to the main event, a life-time teaching achievement award for the great American witch, Amaryllis Streap. The event was a crowded affair, with a number of U.S., Candadian, French, British, Irish, Rumanian, Bulgarian and other officials as well as colleagues she had met at various conferences and conventions in the past decades. She did not expect to find her long lost lover there but this is what happened.

Drinks had been plentiful and lovely, especially the Mimosas. The music had been loud and modern. She had ended up outside the hotel lobby, trying, unsuccessfully, to light a cigarette in the wind. It was her nose that picked his presence up first - a hint of wood and citrus with an idea of something acrid that took her back immediately to that first time she had felt his prick against her arse in Gladrags in that late spring in Hogsmeade village all those years ago and the many times they had been holding each other right until he had changed his aftershave and she had known something was up, only not in the right way. He held out a Muggle match that was burning brightly– “Do you need a light?” She allowed him to light her cigarette and then his own. She had still had no words but when they had finished smoking she leaned towards him, they slowly and then more urgently exchanged kisses while their hands began to explore each other. He pulled her into the dark corner they were standing in, murmured a few spells and then they started taking of each others' clothes kissing and licking any skin that came to light. Finally he had pulled up her skirt and down his pants. One of his hands found her clit and started the old ritual of gentle stroking and more forceful rubbing until he felt she was ready, while she had held on to his neck with one hand and tried to reach down to his balls and his prick, all the while sucking and licking his ear. Finally he lifted her onto his straining cock and he pushed hard, again and again. As they dissolved into pleasure they murmured each others' names and hearing the other say their own at this moment, a great sense of peace descended over them.

Or maybe it was a bit more awkward at first, a smoke or two and a few words. But as Minerva lies in bed, rubbing her fingers between her legs, as she recalls the pressure of hotel wall against her naked arse, what does it matter if that sex happened right away or a few hours or days later. This was half a Muggle lifetime ago and happen it did, and they still murmur to each other what it felt like when they are in the mood to have sex.

She now knows that Hermione did not leave him but he left her to return to her although he took the long way. She does not exactly understand why he did not come to her earlier but then she remembers that he was young and had not seen that much of the world yet and so maybe he felt he needed to do that for himself, And to be honest, she also does not know whether she would have taken him back earlier. She knows that he was thinking of her because he brought back a suitcase full of ribbons from all over the world, in amazing colours and woven in amazing patterns, beautifully embroidered or just simple and plain and from a place she had not even heard of. Her favourite is a ribbon that entwines red and green with gold and silver embroidery. Although they have now done away with houses at Hogwarts, it still reminds her of their own union and she keeps it in a special place, with that old red satin ribbon that her grandmother bought her. The ribbon of her childhood and the ribbon her last beau and true love lie snuggling together as bookmarks in an old copy of Walter Scott's poetry.

His snoring as become louder again, so maybe he will wake up soon. Minerva snuggles back under her duvet and closes her eyes. Maybe she will be able to have a little snooze before breakfast after all. As she closes her eyes, she thinks of that time not so long ago that she mustered her courage to ask him why he had decided to leave Hermione and return to her. They were sitting in that nice restaurant in Cokeworth, which is located in what used to be an industrial mill, as the guests of honour of the new Severus Snape Magic Library Centre opening do that she made him attend. He thought about her question a good bit and then asked her for one of the ribbons she always carried around in her coat pocket. Nothing special, more a cord than a ribbon actually, just something she picked up and kept in case she needed to tie something. He took the pepper mill and carefully tied one end of the ribbon around it, then took the salt shaker and tied the other end around it. Then he placed the little bottle of spicy chilly sauce with the group. He nods. Then he said, “Hold that salt shaker, right there where it is” and put his own hand over the pepper mill. And looked at her. She remembers looking back at him. “You do need it spelled out, don't you?” he growled. “So I felt that there was nothing left that made the world special and I thought a little spice might be the right thing, and it tasted nice, to begin with.” She remembers still looking at him without comprehension. He sighed, “But you were also still there. I saw you at the school, didn't I. But then you left.” And he signalled her to pull away the salt shaker she was holding and lets go of the pepper mill. As she saw the ribbon stretch and the pepper mill fall over and be drawn along the table in the same direction the salt shaker in her fist was taking, she understood. But she felt the need to say it out loud and to hear him confirm him, “So we are bound together and I am salt.” He nods and looks her into the eyes. “Yes, you are salt; you are my salt.” She tears up a little when she thinks about this and then she laughs when she recalls that they had a quarrel later the same day about whether that meant that he saw her as his parent since Lear was Cordelia's father (no he didn't).

5. Conclusion

She closes her eyes. The first rays of daylight is starting to shine through their window as she snuggles deeper into the duvet. The early morning bird concert has begun. The snoring next to her stops, an arm is put around her, two bodies adjust to each other. Severus breathes in her smell as he puts his face against her neck, buries his nose in the hair he loves so much even though now it has turned the colour of the white snowy owl rather than the black raven and pulls her closer to him. She pushes her arse close to where his prick is and places her fingers over his. They both fall asleep again, just for an hour or so, before their new day begins.

Title: Ladies' Night
Author: alisanne
Prompt(s) Used: ladies' night
Characters/Pairings: Astoria/OFC, Pansy
Word Count: 500
Content/Warnings: crafty Slytherins, semi-public sex, fingering.
Additional Notes: Thanks to Emy for looking this over.

~

Ladies’ Night

~

They heard the club before seeing it. Throbbing music emanated from it, making the ground shudder. As they entered, the beat permeated Astoria’s very bones.

“You’re here!” Pansy cried, spotting them. She smirked. “Draco actually let you leave him to spend time with your disreputable friends?”

Astoria rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s ladies’ night. He probably feels safe letting me come since men aren’t allowed.”

“I’m glad you made it.” Pansy huffed. “Millicent’s getting on my nerves.” She shot an inquisitive look to Astoria’s companion. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Daria.” Daria extended a hand towards Pansy, who shook it. “I’m…related to Draco.”

“A cousin?” At Daria’s nod, Pansy tilted her head. “I see the resemblance.”

“Draco thought it would be fun to take Daria out for a night on the town,” said Astoria.

“Why not?” Pansy tossed her head. “The more the merrier. Join us!”

The table they’d commandeered was in prime spot to watch all the action, and as Astoria and Daria got settled, Tracey Davis took drink orders and headed for the bar.

“Where did you attend school, Daria?” Pansy asked once everyone had introduced themselves.

“Beauxbatons.” Daria smiled. “And before you ask, no, I’m not friends with Fleur Delacour.”

“Get that question a lot, do you?” Pansy laughed. “Well, I won’t ask about that bitch. I had enough of her during the Triwizard.” She rolled her eyes. “Veela bitches suck all the air out of a room, am I right?”

Just then, Tracey returned with their drinks, and Daria nodded. “I’ll drink to that.”

After clinking their glasses they all drank, and Millicent and Pansy began arguing about Quidditch.

Thirsty minutes in, Daria rose. “Loo?”

“I’ll show you,” said Astoria. “We’ll be right back.”

Pansy and Millicent, still arguing, barely acknowledged them; everyone else was off dancing.

Once inside the bathroom, Daria grabbed Astoria, dragging her into a stall. Astoria raised an eyebrow. “You realise this will look suspicious?”

Daria snorted. “I don’t care. That dress you’re almost wearing’s driving me mad.”

“This old thing?” Astoria smirked.

Daria hauled Astoria close and kissing her. “You know it makes me want to ravish you.”

“If you’re doing that,” panted Astoria, “be quick. The others will get suspicious if we take too long.”

Daria wasted no time hiking up Astoria’s skirt and slipping fingers between her legs. Upon finding no knickers, Daria hissed. “You slag.”

Astoria smirked. “Just for you, darling.”

Daria growled. “It better be.” Devouring Astoria’s mouth, Daria thrust three fingers into her cunt, bringing her to a quick, intense, orgasm.

Once she had caught her breath, Astoria whispered, “I can suck—”

“No time.” Daria’s face morphed into Draco’s familiar features. “Shit, it’s worn off, hasn’t it?”

“Mmhm.” Clasping his face in her palms, Astoria kissed him. “That was lovely. Now, drink your Polyjuice so we can rejoin our friends and finish the evening.”

Shaking his head, Draco obeyed, and when he was Daria once more, he opened the stall and gestured her out. “Shall we?”

~