Trading Places Challenge Fic: "Hen Party - 1/3" Title: Hen Party (Part 1 of 3) Author:nehalenia For: Trading Places Challenge, for nepenth's lovely art At Lily's Bachelorette Party, '79 Rating: PG (this part; eventual R or NC17) Warnings: Seriously AU ("Voldemort? Voldemort who?"; plus, Snape and Lily obviously recovered from the 'Snape's Worse Memory' fiasco.) Also, implications of (very mild) het. Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine, it's JKR's. This is for entertainment purposes only, no profit is being made or sought. Word Count (this part): 780 Author's Notes: I regret that this is so late -- not to mention in pieces -- but I lost about 5 days to a wretched cold. Expect the remaining two parts to be posted over the next few days. I hope this does some small justice to nepenth's adorable art. Also, many thanks to the good people over at LJ's hp_britglish community for lots of info on the customs for 'Hen Parties' (as they told me bachelorette parties are called in the UK), music and drinks of the day, and various other bits of essential info. I hope I got it mostly right.
Severus Snape was confused.
He was confused as to why Lily Evans had invited him to her Hen Party to celebrate her upcoming marriage to the odious James Potter. He was confused as to why Lily was wearing a tiara of flowers made with toilet roll, and a veil trimmed with little plastic packages of multi-coloured condoms. He was confused as to why Lily’s homemade chocolate biscuits had a weird, grainy texture and an odd aftertaste, and why he felt so light-headed when all he’d been drinking was dandelion and burdock pop. He was confused as to why, despite the large stack of records by the phonograph, the only album anyone wanted to play was ABBA, and he was deeply confused as to why a pack of Lily’s Muggle friends were leaning on each other and drunkenly singing only the chorus of ‘Fernando’ even though they’d played it so many times they should have known all the words by then.
Actually, he thought perhaps he was more irritated by that than confused.
He was further confused as to why, of all people, Remus Lupin was also at Lily’s Hen Party, and why Lupin, who had done little but torment him at school, had sat beside him all night, and fetched him drinks whenever he’d finished one. He was confused as to why Lupin had been pleasant and voluble, even solicitous, despite his own attempts to drive the man off with sneering and sarcasm. But what confused Severus Snape most of all – utterly and completely, in fact – was why Remus Lupin had kissed him. Why he was still kissing him. And why, against all reason, Severus was letting him.
Having a scientific sort of mind, Severus tried to analyze it. Surprise was his only explanation for not stopping Lupin’s advance outright – really, how could he have guessed the man was going to kiss him, of all things? – but once the inevitable had happened, why had he not just pulled away? And then pulled out his wand and hexed the blasted werewolf, silly Muggle bints be damned?
Perhaps it was because Lupin’s mouth tasted like the Bulmer’s Strongbow he’d been drinking all night, and his lips were firm, and just a bit yielding; or that his chin and upper lip were pleasantly scratchy, and his cheek smelled faintly of bay rum aftershave. Maybe it was that at some point – Severus was confused as to just when – Lupin’s hand had cupped the back of his neck to draw him in closer, and at some point after that – at least Severus hoped it had been after that – his own hand had crept up and slid under Lupin’s shirt. He could feel the other man’s heartbeat beneath his fingers, and he could also feel that his own was faster and louder. It got even more so when Lupin’s tongue, gently but quite insistently, teased his lips apart and slipped into his mouth.
A wave of dizziness swept over Severus. While this wasn’t his first kiss – not even his first open-mouthed kiss – it was the first time another man had kissed him, and the differences – which his scientific mind couldn’t help but assess – were strange and a little frightening. The few girls he’d kissed had had soft lips and softly curved bodies, and they’d breathed in a fluttery way, and it had been nice, he’d liked it, but it hadn’t felt anything like this. Not at all. His heart hadn’t beat like this, his head hadn’t spun this way, and what had been a warm, pleasant, tingly feeling when he’d kissed girls was fast becoming an intense, uncomfortable heat as Lupin pulled him closer, gripped his hair and kissed him deeper than he’d ever been kissed before.
Lupin’s tongue was pressed against his own, but he could feel the kiss at his very center, and even further down. Something inside him was twisting and turning, and when his fingers ghosted over Lupin’s nipple and felt it harden, Lupin moaned into his mouth – or maybe he moaned into Lupin’s, he couldn’t be sure – and it all became too much.
“Stop,” Severus panted, pulling away from the kiss. “You have to... stop kissing me.”
Lupin watched him closely, nostrils flaring, the tip of his pink tongue tracing his kiss-reddened lips. His warm hazel eyes had an amber glint.
“What if I don’t want to?” Lupin asked softly, his fingers still tangling in Severus’ hair.
“You will,” Severus told him weakly. The room was spinning and he couldn’t keep Lupin’s face in focus.
“Why’s that?” Remus wanted to know.
“Because,” he groaned, wavering a little in Lupin’s grip. “I think... I’m about to be sick.”