wl_mods (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} wl_mods) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} wizard_love,@ 2008-03-12 15:09:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Special delivery for snapelike (part 3)
Title: A Toxic & Tender Time
Author/Artist:odogoddess
Recipient's LJ name:snapelike
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Severus/Minerva, Viktor/Millicent
Word Count: 19,021
Warnings (if any): h/c, adult situations, first-time, rough sex, near-public
pt. 1 | pt. 2
~*~
It was bonfire night. She was later than she had intended. The whole family was probably already gathered at the hilltop. Lachlan would be waiting, trying to keep her irascible father company. She should have left off finishing her reports for Sunday, but one thing that marked Minerva McGonagall was devotion to duty. She might be a bit new to her position, but she intended on starting as she meant to go on. That meant her work came first, and frivolity came after the work was done. It was one of the things she loved about Lachlan; he not only understood, but lauded her work ethic.
Still, she longed to be with him, with her family. She heard a loud banging noise. The fireworks must have begun. She exchanged two tired feet for four swift and silent ones, merging into her Animagus form and sprinting for the hilltop where she could see a fire blazed. She did not see anyone else, though, and that was strange enough to bring her up short, stopping. Strange, harsh laughter sounded and she shrank in on herself, then saw the spark of fiery green streaking across the sky. Fireworks?
She moved hesitantly forward now, as only a cat could - ears flattened back and tail clinging to haunches, suddenly fearful. Something, she knew, was horribly wrong. The fiery green began to glow and soon an ugly skull illuminated the sky, a glowing snake head surging from its mouth. What could it be? She had never seen a fireworks display like that, if indeed, it really was a fireworks display.
She reached the edge of firelight and saw two robed figures standing by the fire. Unmoving figures lay all about. Her family!
Still, she dared not approach, trusting her instinct to watch until she knew more. Something horrible had happened.
The robed figures, men, she realised, men wearing masks, were throwing something on the fire. Death Eaters? Those disciples of the wizard who called himself Voldemort? What were they doing here? Were Aurors on the way? Should she go and sound an alarm?
It was with horror that she recognised her father, lifeless, eyes wide, mouth in a rictus of terror, being held in one of the robed figure's arms. Then the robed figure tossed her father onto the bonfire as if he was a faggot of wood... and she saw Lachlan's craggy face, his eyes astonished in death, hair ablaze where he lay on the same fire.
"Minerva!"
She jerked awake, the shriek issuing forth as it always had after this dream.
She felt a gentle hand against her face and without thinking, she hurled herself against the warm shoulder beside her that smelt of spice and musk and the unique scent that was Severus Snape, her friend and House rival and beloved colleague.
He was startled for a moment, then carefully wrapped his arms around her, holding her uncertainly.
"It's all right," he murmured in his deep voice. "It was just a dream."
She shook her head, but could not speak. The dream-memory had plagued her over forty years now. This was the first time she had ever woken from the horrific dream and not been alone. To her chagrin she found she could not stop the tears, so she did not try. She clung to Severus and was immeasurably relieved and grateful when he merely held her more snugly and rubbed her back with gentle hands.
The memory of her family's slaughter remained as sharp as the night she'd first experienced it, a young and well-positioned worker at the Ministry, and one of the secret arbiters who worked solely at the discretion of the Minister. They had been innocent. Voldemort had slaughtered them to show the Minister that not only could he attack with impunity, but that he knew who worked for him. The death of her family members signalled a leak at the Ministry and made paranoia the watchword ever after among most of the departments, but particularly among the Minister's staff. They became more concerned with the leak, it seemed to her, than in finding the perpetrators and bringing them to justice. She suffered a terrible crisis of conscience.
It had changed everything, but not more so than for the young woman she'd been, who was left rudderless. As sole survivor, she wound up with the entirety of her family's holdings, a fortune she would gladly have given away to return her loved ones to her.
There were ways, she knew, but they were dark ways. There was also her Time-Turner, but that would breach rules set out from times past and by more learned wizards and witches than her. So she'd been in a quandary. Vigilantism or putting already shattered faith back in the Ministry?
Albus Dumbledore had approached her, taken her into his confidence; he was starting a sub rosa group intended to investigate, protect and fight against Voldemort. Shaken by her feelings of revenge, she broke Ministry rule for the first time in her life and entrusted her Time-Turner to Albus Dumbledore. Could he hold it for her until she needed it back?
He gravely accepted it, and, a few weeks later, when the Aurors proved unable to do anything, she met with Dumbledore again, who asked if she had considered teaching... he had a position that needed filling. He also gently handed back the Time-Turner. It would doubtlessly prove useful he told her, but it was also far too tempting a trinket for a chess player. It was best in the hands of the one who had been entrusted with it.
He had given her purpose, a job, tasks that helped his efforts against Voldemort, and more importantly, although she had not realised it at the time, a sense of family. The other teachers welcomed her, accepted her, and soon she was a valued and respected colleague. She had never regretted her decision.
Now the fiend who had led to it was dead, she recalled, and new shudders ran through her.
She had not slain him, but she had helped the one who could, and had done all in her power to ensure his success.
The man who held her had given all he had to the same task, if for different reasons.
Suddenly, Minerva felt a frisson of heat, of blossoming desire, filling her. It was, she knew, a reaction to events. Severus had suffered his own soon after waking, but she had not had time to process events. She had been nursemaiding him and tending to his needs. His very personal needs.
More fierce heat surged through her and she had to fight the impulse to start kissing him, caressing him. Severus, no doubt, would be horrified. She was sure he had never thought of her in that manner.
"Severus," she whispered against his neck, and he started, then nodded.
He was, she noted, incredibly warm. They were pressed together from head to knees and not an inch of him was cool. This was a very gratifying sign of his recovery and she sighed her contentment.
She smiled against his neck, rubbing her cheek against him, and he repositioned himself slightly. She did, as well, bringing him closer and enjoying his warmth like the cat which was a part of her. An uncomfortable source of pressure pushed against her pelvis and she frowned until she realised what it must be. Surreptitious shifting confirmed it as he made a slight sound and tried to pull his hips back.
She sighed.
"It's all right, Severus. It doesn't bother me."
He stilled, then she could feel his blush, the fierce surge of heat against her face. She smiled.
"It's a good sign, as well. It means your circulation has improved."
He made a sound rather suspiciously like a bitten-off groan and she sighed again.
"Honestly, dear. I know you've no designs on me. There's no need to feel shame." She held him close again and rubbed his back even as he stiffened and began to tremble. She sighed again. "Truly."
When he spoke, she almost could not hear him despite their proximity. She could feel his lips against her temple as he mumbled.
"And if I did?"
Minerva frowned.
"If you--"
She pulled back, but he could not meet her eyes. Tremors assailed him and she abruptly realised it was ardour that was making him tremble so.
The frisson of desire from before nearly overwhelmed her as it rushed back, but she banked it. This was too sudden, too new. She had no wish to frighten him nor harm their friendship as it was. She had known Severus, she abruptly recalled, for nearly thirty years, man and boy.
Carefully, more carefully than she had done anything in the time they had been secreted away, she touched fingertips to his cheek.
The heat bled from his face to her fingers and she found herself stroking his bewhiskered jaw, stroking back until she could run her fingers through his long hair. He had not seen to it the entire last year at the school, more occupied with other things, and it had grown rather long. Now it was well past his shoulders.
"My braw lad," she whispered softly, nearly crooning as tears filled her eyes. "Tapadh leibh."
He frowned, studying her, then awareness filled his gaze, but his voice remained puzzled. "What for?"
Her own whisper was barely audible now.
"Making me feel... wanted again." Her smile was tremulous, but her fingers remained gentle as she caressed his neck and shoulders now. "It's been a long time."
"Ah." He nodded, then, to her delight, took her stroking hand in his and kissed it. "I'm... not certain I can do very much, anyway."
She drew in a steadying breath and smiled at him. "That's perfectly all right. These things are best done gradually, I'm given to understand."
He studied her again, then said, "That's not what I meant. I... I made a promise a long time ago. I've kept it so far, but now..."
"Now?"
"I promised I'd keep to myself. That I wouldn't... have sex. I've never considered breaking that promise... until now."
She considered this, then nodded at him. "I made the same sort of vow a long time ago. I understand how powerful the need to punish oneself can be."
He frowned at this and she shook her head. "Yes, I said punish. Saving oneself is never about another, but about yourself. Keeping from others for the sake of someone else... someone dead... is always about yourself. The person who's gone cannot appreciate it. It is not like a marriage or bonding vow, which is done in parity between two people where the vow is sanctified anew with every instant it is kept. You cannot keep a promise to a dead person, only to yourself. In keeping it, you remember the person each time the vow is recalled. The greater the sacrifice, the more often the person is recalled, the more impact the memory gains."
Severus looked angry, but he listened, and as he listened, he calmed, considering her words. She continued in a quiet voice, no longer looking at him, her gaze seemingly far-off.
"Given enough time, the person gone becomes the focal point for your pain -- a faultless, guiltless, perfect and unassailable entity you have deified through sacrifice."
"You think I'm a fool."
Minerva blinked, looking at him again. "I wasn't speaking of you at all, Severus, but of myself."
His eyes widened. She smiled sadly and put her hand back up to his face.
"Do you think you're the only one who ever lost someone to that madman?"
He studied her as realisation came to him. His black eyes were suspiciously bright. "I apologise. I thought you..."
"You thought I was treading on your memories of Lily."
He flinched, but nodded, and she sighed, giving in to the impulse to hold him close. "No, Severus. No more than you tread on my memories of Lachlan. Do you know why?"
He shook his head slowly, holding her a bit uncertainly now.
Minerva stroked his cheek. "Because I care for you just as I did for him."
"Lachlan."
"My fiance." She swallowed. "Voldemort killed him, along with my family, a long time ago."
He stilled briefly, then he held her closer, losing his prior hesitation. "Minerva..."
"A long time ago, Severus," she repeated. "And time to be moving on, I'm thinking."
He finally nodded, and just held her.
~*~
* * * * * *
~*~
They had slept in the end, a bit wrung out from their confessions and discoveries, sharing nothing more than a few caresses that conveyed banked anticipation.
Still, they had not pulled away from each other, and so it was that Severus woke in someone's arms for the first time in his life.
He held Minerva a bit tighter as he stirred, gratified and a bit fearful as one. She understood him far better than he'd thought, but he felt his lack of experience acutely.
He strove now to relax. It was the first time in a very long time that either had been able to take their ease. With him more or less on his feet, the constant need for potions and treatment had finally eased. There was nothing that required regular attention. He could afford to relax.
"Mm... good morning, my dear."
He smiled and his arms tightened around her for a moment as he murmured, "Good morning."
She smiled and cast a quick freshening charm over both their mouths, earning her a shy smile, which she returned.
She reached a hand up to touch his face as she pulled back to look at him and she found herself the recipient of an ardent, if unpractised kiss. The realisation anew that he had never done this gentled her response. She carefully eased him back, shifted the angle of her face and then their kiss deepened and grew as her newfound lover learned what pleased them both.
He was moving against her, unconsciously thrusting his hips in a timeless rhythm, as his lips and tongue explored her own. Minerva considered this for a moment, then made a decision.
Severus gasped as their night clothes disappeared and he felt all of her against him.
"There now."
He studied her, then very slowly and deliberately moved to bury his face in the powder soft skin of her throat.
She shuddered as his lips followed the tendons and mapped the veins in the long column of her neck. Her hands clenched on his upper arms and he groaned and traced kisses down to the hollow of her neck, where he paused.
Slowly, so slowly, as if uncertain of her response, one hand sought and found the small mound of one of her breasts and they both gasped.
"So soft," he murmured, caressing it with his palm, astonished at the smoothness against his own work-roughened skin. She nearly said something, then cried out as his lips found her other breast and she gave in to the sensations, letting them wash over her. It had been so long.
"My lady..."
She swallowed and let her hands run over him as they pleased.
"Mo mhùirnìn... Mo cridhe."
He scarcely paused as she crooned at him, desperate now with desire.
She knew he was unlikely to last this first time and accepted it without qualms. Perhaps it would be best to facilitate matters, and then they could learn each other more leisurely over the course of the day.
She insinuated her hand between them, gently cupping and squeezing him and smiling as he cried out.
"Easy."
"M-minerva... I don't know how long..."
"Let it happen on its own, Severus. It's Nature's way and naught to be ashamed of."
He trembled. "I... I wanted to be inside you."
She smiled, and took one of his hands. Without a word, she led it to the lips of her cunt and let him feel her slick entry. His fingers stroked gently and when she gasped, he returned to the spot, to the aching nub of her clitoris and gently brushed it. She pursed her lips at the intense sensation and shifted his hand to the side of her throbbing need. He swiftly took up a careful rhythm, brushing along the sides of it, long fingers dipping all the way down to her entry and back again. Soon she was rocking into his touch and he firmed it, eventually pressing his palm to her, groaning as he felt her wet it with her slickness as she tensed and came against him.
Minerva felt herself relax back onto the bed, and she smiled up at him. "Ach, Severus... my braw lad."
He leaned down to kiss her and she reached for him at the same time, fitting him to her. He froze, staring at her uncertainly, studying her gaze.
"Tha mi'g iarraidh tuilleadh."
His gaze darkened with lust at her tone and she cried out as he plunged inside her depths.
Merlin and Morgana, but it's been far too long.
It was her last coherent thought as Severus established a forceful rhythm that drove all reason from her mind.
She could only hear his grunting breath, half-murmured words he was unaware he made, and feel his long, hard cock filling her equally needy cunt, smell their combined sweat and the musky salt scent of sex.
"Tuilleadh!"
He sped up, moving to kiss her. The new position had his hard shaft stroking her clitoris with each stroke, and she felt herself falling again. She cried out in exultation.
"Seo e!"
Her shout galvanised him and he moaned at the feeling of her tightening around him, even wetter and slicker than before, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. He shuddered, feeling his own orgasm swiftly approaching.
Minerva's voice was languid, sultry with satiation.
"Thusa a-nise, Severus."
Her soft words of encouragement coupled with her fingers stroking his face were too much for him.
"Minerva!" He shuddered through his climax, feeling each separate pulse of ejaculate, the intense pleasure washing over him in waves. "Oh, gods..."
~*~
It should really have come as no surprise.
The game was not long at all. Viktor had gone after the Snitch with such ferocity that the golden, feathered ball seemed to shriek and freeze in terror as he swooped down on it, a mere three minutes after the game had begun. 150 points to Bulgaria. It was scarcely worth suiting up.
Until, that is, he realized what a turn-on his uniform was to Millicent.
She rushed to his changing room without hesitation, despite the shocked look of some of the reporters who tended to follow him about, and tackled him by the massage table.
"Oh, Viktor!"
"Milly..."
The sound of flash bulbs gave them pause, and Millicent waved her wand in irritation, swiftly spelling the curtains shut and adding a Privacy Charm. She turned back to Viktor and lifted a brow, smiling.
"Now where were we?"
He hiked her up and onto the table to kiss her at his leisure. He was so pleasantly engrossed in this, that he didn't realise she was undressing him until his team shirt fell away.
"Milly?"
"I've been waiting." She eyed him avidly, spreading her legs farther and bringing him closer still to her.
He didn't want to question his good fortune, but manners had been ingrained in him, and consideration for her reputation was his foremost concern.
"Milly, are you sure you do not want to wait for--" His words were cut off by Milly's tongue, which thrust in his mouth in imitation of what she so clearly wanted.
"I've been waiting," she repeated huskily, lifting her skirts but a little, just enough to show him her Slytherin garter and her utter and unashamed lack of undergarments.
"Milly!"
His confused cock, at first hard from her avid embrace, then tempered due to his hesitance, now surged forward and tried to rip a hole through his trousers.
She corrected this situation with a judicious bit of magic, and soon he was waving before her, a thick, red, blunt-headed warrior proudly saluting his commander.
"Milly, are you... have you..."
"No, and what are you waiting for?"
He took one of her hands in his and kissed it. She sighed so needfully that he had to swallow.
"Milly, it will hurt. I don't want--"
"I know that. But it won't hurt that long and I've been waiting. I've been of age a year already. Oh, Viktor!"
He slid a hand to her cunt and pressed his knuckles to her damp flesh. She writhed and moaned.
He kept his hand there, but put his thumb to good use, rubbing her hot, juicy clit. Millicent screamed lustily, her desire making his head swim. Panting, he moved forward and kissed her, hard. She bit at him lightly and they exchanged a desperate kiss, Milly moaning all through it as he stimulated her.
Suddenly she stiffened and his knuckles were bathed in slickness. Without hesitation he moved his hand aside and thrust into her with one solid stroke.
Her legs crushed him, wrapped around his hips, her heels resting in the small of his back as she held her breath and rode out the painful sensation and he held still, waiting.
Soon, she urged him on and he began to move, sinuously grinding his hips as his cock moved in and out within her cunt. They both kissed, and moaned, and writhed.
She soon climaxed again, crying out into his shoulder, biting at his muscled arm and he gasped, thrusting harder, amazed at how well she was accepting his bulk. He was not a small man in that regard and he had learned to be gentle, but Milly took all of him with ease and he was able to thrust as vigorously as he dared. This was enough to make him mad with lust for her.
"Milly!"
"Viktor!"
She climaxed once again and he pounded into her, feeling himself empty within her welcoming depths, bollocks deep.
When he drew back, she smiled, a private smile meant only for him, and gently kissed his sweaty forehead.
"I think I love you."
His eyes brightened, and his own smile grew. "Oh, my sweet Millicent."
"I'm all yours," she declared, leaning back to rest on her elbows, unconsciously causing her breasts to point up and showing him her wet, coral cunt.
He did not waste time with words.
Viktor bent over and let his tongue speak for him as he introduced Milly to his second favourite activity after Quidditch.
It was Bulgaria's next game where Viktor put all the rumours to rest and gave the reporters something else to focus on when he had half the spectators on the opposite side of Millicent's seat spell out the words "Marry me, Milly. Please."
Millicent Bulstrode decided that there were definitely times it was okay to cry, as well as indulge in public displays of affection.
~*~
It had not been too hard a sacrifice to be made for the sake of peace in the wizarding world and personal vindication, but Severus decided the intensity of pleasure and gratification he had finally discovered in lying with a witch was worth any lingering guilt over the loss of his cherished virginity. He wondered if his long abstinence had any affect on the seemingly overwhelming assault to his senses. Was it like this for all wizards?
Minerva was astride him, slowly riding up and down on his cock, and he could feast his gaze on her pale pink nipples and how they contrasted so pleasingly with her ivory skin. What imperfections her skin might have held did not matter in his eyes; his own body was imperfect, but with it, he would worship her, like the lady she was and, as she deserved to be. He would lie still if she asked, as she had asked, in fact, and use nothing but his gaze to show her what he felt.
Her strong hands were rubbing back and forth over his chest as she moved, leaving behind trails of tingling heat, making him moan each time she rubbed his tightly crinkled nipples. Her own gaze was avid, feasting on his obvious pleasure and revealing her own.
She had already come a few times, enough that her musky fluid trickled slowly down his hefty bollocks as she moved. He could feel his bollocks swelling and lifting and struggled to hold back. She spoke in a throaty whisper and he struggled to understand, to focus...
"Siuthad."
Her gaze clearly told him what she wanted from him. He cried out helplessly.
Severus grit his teeth and clenched his hands. His dark eyes, trying to keep watching her, disobeyed him and rolled back as his body obeyed her and came in powerful waves that threatened to drown him in an immensity of blissful feelings.
It was a long while before he heard her softly repeated words, punctuated by the stroking of her hand to his chest near where her head lay. He blinked as he realised she was no longer astride him, but curled up against his side, her head against his shoulder.
"Severus. Love."
He frowned and turned to look at her and she repeated it one last time, before kissing him gently.
"Am I?"
She smiled and nodded. This time he kissed her, then lay back again, sighing satisfaction and fatigue alike. Sleep overtook them both, and when they woke, the high window revealed a patch of blue sky amidst the clouds.
"What time is it?"
She smiled. "Late morning, I believe. Does it matter?"
He shook his head. "For a change, it does not."
He turned to her and caressed her face. It was, he realized, beloved to him. She had been in his life for so long, teacher, colleague, ally, worthy adversary, good friend, lover...
"It's been a long time," he noted.
She smiled up at him, a touch of uncertainty in her expression. "It has. And I need you to know, Severus, that I don't expect more than this. It's all probably just... misplaced joi de vivre."
"Perhaps," he conceded, looking pensive. "I'm certainly glad to be alive, and I'm glad to be with you, Minerva, but I don't think it's misplaced, and really, I don't know what I expect or expected, aside from not still being alive."
She frowned at this and pulled him to her, holding him close.
"I'm so sorry. I wish you had felt able to confide in me," she admitted. "You and Albus both."
He shook his head.
"I did what Albus asked. The boy won and he's alive. That's..." he paused as his throat tightened, and finished in a rough whisper, "that's what matters."
Minerva stroked his back. "Yes. You kept your promise."
He swallowed. "Not all of them."
She considered this, then sighed. "There does come a time, Severus, when you have to live for you. You've never had that. It's past time, I'd say."
He pulled back to look at her and she stroked his face.
"I refuse to feel guilty over what we've done, Severus. We're both adults, and we both wanted it, needed it some might say. Wherever we go from here, even if it should never happen again, I plan to treasure what happened here."
"Yes."
He leaned over to kiss her tenderly and she was surprised as his kisses went from her mouth, to her cheek, jaw and neck. His hands began to stroke gently over her skin.
"Severus?"
He barely paused, mouth hovering above her collarbone. "I treasure it, too, Minerva. But there are no words I could ever use to thank you. So--"
His head dipped as he carefully began to lave one of her small breasts and her fingers clenched on his shoulders.
"Severus..."
He did not respond verbally, his hands and mouth answering her, showing her without words what he felt. Soon she was splayed out before him and any apprehension she may have had, or vulnerability she may have felt, fled in the gentle, but thorough onslaught of his lips and teeth and tongue.
"Severus!"
He had never done it before, but he had read of it, and dreamt of it, and Minerva was the beneficiary of twenty years of pent-up desire. Her scent filled his nostrils as her flavour was imprinted on his brain from his eager tongue, discovering anew this secret place of witchly pleasure he had long denied himself.
He could scarcely hear her cries as he learnt every curve and fold and bump of slick flesh. He was not even aware that he was hard again, his cock flat to his belly, head damp with pre-come.
When her thighs clamped on his shoulders, he lifted his head long enough to hear her cry out, and he watched her find her own pleasure.
Her voice was so hungry when she spoke he was taken aback. "Severus -- your fingers, or your cock. Now. Please!"
She writhed and he slid up and carefully aligned himself, but she bucked onto him before he could thrust in. Just like that, they were joined, thrusting together, his bollocks slapping her trim arse cheeks.
"YES!"
Her shriek was accompanied by wordless exclamations, and her hands gripped his so tightly it hurt, and he dared not stop, not even to adjust his position for comfort.
So this is a 'witch in heat', as the saying goes.
He looked his fill, savouring the moment. Minerva McGonagall was magnificent.
He groaned as his own orgasm caught up to him, and he dimly heard her cry out again, and felt her clutching him tightly as he emptied himself within her.
Afterwards, they dozed, sated, and when the brightness of the afternoon sun woke them, they moved together as one, on their sides, joining again in a gentler coupling that left them both incredibly relaxed.
A long, soothing bath refreshed them, as did food, and the subject of what was going to happen next did not crop up again. Each had decided to accept what the day brought, or indeed, what the rest of life had to bring.
~*~
Six months later...
"It seems Viktor Krum married Millicent Bulstrode."
Minerva turned in the kitchen to eye her husband where he sat at the small dinner table.
"Really?
He set down the copy of the Prophet and nodded.
"Apparently, they had a whirlwind romance and finally decided to make it legal. Their honeymoon will take them through the winter hols."
McGonagall beamed. "Well, that's delightful."
He nodded a bit pensively. "I did not feel comfortable saying anything to anyone else at the time, not even Albus, but Miss Bulstrode did attempt a, let us say secluded rendezvous with me her sixth year. I'm pleased to see she's moved past her childish fantasy."
Minerva raised a brow at this. "Oh? Has she then?"
He looked up at her and arched an inquisitive brow. She smiled.
"Severus. Miss Bulstrode married a tall, graceful, dark-eyed man who spent most of his time whilst at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament glowering from under his brows at everyone, or else in the library with his rather large nose stuck in a book. I can't imagine what she possibly sees in him."
He coloured at this observation, but merely said, "My own supposition was rather more plebeian -- I was guessing their sprog will be here in half a year."
She frowned. "Severus, you are far too cynical."
"And you, my dear, wear rose-coloured glasses." He smiled at her as she brought the toast to the table, giving her a kiss in exchange. "Still, we present a balanced pair."
She smiled back as she settled down, adding a pat of butter to both toast and her porridge as Severus picked his paper back up and continued reading. She mused as she stirred.
She was not young, no, but, as a witch, she was not old either. Or as her mother would have put it, when you're 99 and he's 69 who will care?" It still bothered her, though. His intense interest in the Prophet, his taciturn avoidance of the local group of Wizarding folk in the area. It was part of a pattern that disquieted her.
"Severus, does it bother you? Being here, I mean? You know I'd go back with you in a trice if you but asked."
He set his paper down again. His tone was even and held no hint of annoyance, although it was not the first, or even the third time she had asked. "No, Minerva. Truly."
Kingsley had asked, also. When he'd come two and a half months after sending them to safety, to inform them most of the Death Eaters had been rounded up, he had offered them both the chance to return.
It was far easier for Minerva. She could always claim herself recovered. To Severus, Shacklebolt had offered to take the blame, willing to state publicly he had made a mistake when he thought Severus was dead, and offering to declare that he had been in hiding, uncertain, but had come forward. So far as Kingsley was concerned, having seen Snape's memories and spoken in depth with Dumbledore's portrait, the Wizarding world owed Severus a great debt... not to mention 18 years back pay for services to the Ministry, at hazard duty rates.
Severus had nearly demurred, but Minerva stayed his hand. His ordeal had left him prone to stiffness and pain. He was not the same man he had been, hair streaked now with silver, once resonant voice a touch raspy from snakebite damage.
They both had places, her own holdings in Scotland, and his residence in Yorkshire. Shacklebolt asked what they wanted. He could do whatever was within his power for them, and would, without hesitation.
They finally decided to keep Minerva's residence, for whenever they wished to visit home, and to sell Snape's. The monies from that he could add to their savings account.
The monies comprising his back pay were set up as a fund in his name for impoverished Slytherin students, to provide them new robes and books each school year, and a small stipend of spending money each month they were in school. Shacklebolt agreed. He also offered Severus pleasant contract work -- the Ministry was in dire need of an expert in posology. Minerva had discovered an expansive back lawn, with a greenhouse and a small, but well-built shed. Severus had been eyeing it with intent of setting up a lab.
Minerva was not sure what she wanted to do, but had found to her surprise, that returning to teach youngsters no longer appealed. There were a few American wizards and witches, all adults, she discovered, who sought more education in Transfiguration and spell work than their home-schooling had provided. There was a niche for her here if she wished it.
They were, Shacklebolt reminded them, here as husband and wife, after all. Shacklebolt had smiled and reminded them, that as Minister, he could make that reality.
Minerva's only qualm was about her name. The name of her clan was important to her. Severus had no such qualms. He despised the man who had given him his name anyway.
So it was that the names on their passports were changed, and Severus Snape, without vacillation or any sign of reluctance or regret, became Severus McGonagall. Shacklebolt was pleased as punch to perform the service in the back lawn of the house which was his own wedding gift to them.
She looked now on that back garden, covered with frost. In a few months, spring would come, and she and Severus would plant herbs that they could cook with and that he could use for his potions research. They would plant vegetables and fruit for their table.
It would be, she suddenly knew, a very good crop.
~*~
Epilogue...
"Nicholai! Ivanka!" Millicent's voice carried over the crowd of tourists to her ten year old twins.
She was so very pleased to have been able to bring them on this vacation, their last summer before they began school at Durmstrang. Viktor was playing his last year of professional Quidditch, and his tour had brought them to the Americas, where Quidditch was more a curiosity than a major sport, although what American fans existed were more avid than even their European counterparts.
Her husband had been in an exhibition game and he was resting at their hotel now, so she had taken the children out to view the sights and allow their father uninterrupted sleep. She also intended to tire them out; she had plans for Viktor later that night. In all their years together, despite her misgivings before they married, he had never strayed. She was more than enough for him, he had told her on their wedding night almost twenty years ago, and Viktor was a man of his word. This meant a lot to her, and she planned for that never to change.
While she was ruminating, Nicholai ran directly into a tall, lean man in rather sombre clothes for an American. Was he a tourist, she wondered, as she chided her son. Then the man turned, stilled for a fraction of a moment, before nodding at her politely and saying, "Excuse me, ma'am."
She froze. That voice. She had once known that voice. It had been the one that welcomed her to Slytherin House when she had been eleven years old. The one that had made her swoon inside all through her sixth year.
She nearly grabbed at him, but Ivanka pulled on her arm.
"Mama?"
Millicent put a quelling hand up and stared after the man. He walked along London Bridge with the slow, measured tread of someone who was tired. It was nothing like the graceful strides she remembered. In the distance, a slender woman with equally silvered hair, plaited behind her, waited for him. He bent slightly to kiss her, just a bit longer and more avidly than was publicly appropriate, before taking her hand in his and leading them off the bridge.
For a moment, Millicent could see a flaring black cloak in her mind's eye. Then she shook her head. She must have been mistaken.
This man was silver-haired, bearded, and looked more like a brigand, albeit a well-tailored and polite one, than her old Head of House. His teeth were crooked, but ivory, and his skin was heavily tanned, as well. No, she was being fanciful.
She recalled now the pallid, black-haired, yellow-toothed, singularly taciturn and largely undemonstrative man she had once loved almost as much as her own father, and sighed sadly.
"Mama? What is wrong?"
She smiled down at her two children and took them by the hand, heading in a different direction.
"Let's go find something to eat, and I'll tell you a story about a very special wizard I once knew."
~FINITE~
~*~
post A/N: Why, yes, Severus was using a spot of Legilimency during their more intimate moments. He's a sneaky lad. Speaking of Scottish:
"Tapadh leibh."
[Thank you.] (this is a very formal phraze, not like the more common Tapadh leat in everyday use.)
"Mo mhùirnìn... Mo cridhe."
[My darling. My heart.]
"Tha mi'g iarraidh tuilleadh."
[I want more.]
"Tuilleadh!"
[More!]
"Seo e!"
[Here it is!]
"Thusa a-nise."
[Your turn now.]
"Siuthad."
[Go on.]
Other tidbits:
Whereas April through June are normally the driest in the Lake Havasu area, one anecdotal account of 1998 (London Bridge Artistic Happening on 29 May 1998) reports: The weather in the days leading up to Friday 29 May was on the whole dreadful. Long story short - it rained until the very day of the festivities. For those who don't know, London Bridge was moved and reconstructed in Arizona beginning in 1968.
Knowing something of the area, as well as its significance to many expatriates, it amused me to set Severus and Minerva's portion of the tale here. The house depicted here is the interior of an actual house I once visited, but not to be taken as a typical dwelling in the region. I just felt it was so very different from most of the UK dwellings with which I'm familiar, so eclectically middle-class American, that I wished to use it here. Minerva, you're not in Craigiebank anymore... (There are McGonagall's in Dundee, as I'm sure there are elsewhere in the UK, but it amuses me to think she hailed from this picturesque area.)
For the edification of those who are curious, particularly those readers who might feel sex ends after forty (young ladies, you have a big and very pleasant surprise coming! You young men - enjoy your blessings to the fullest whilst you're able, that's why Nature was kind, if mysterious), I rec reading: Sexual Response and Aging
The tea which Minerva professes to prefer is a real tea and (for some of us) a nigh-religious experience: Mackwoods Teas.
Finally, for those who wonder, Posology is a specialized field of study involving dosages of medicine.
snapelike (part 3)Title: A Toxic & Tender Time
Author/Artist:
odogoddessRecipient's LJ name:
snapelikeRating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Severus/Minerva, Viktor/Millicent
Word Count: 19,021
Warnings (if any): h/c, adult situations, first-time, rough sex, near-public
pt. 1 | pt. 2
It was bonfire night. She was later than she had intended. The whole family was probably already gathered at the hilltop. Lachlan would be waiting, trying to keep her irascible father company. She should have left off finishing her reports for Sunday, but one thing that marked Minerva McGonagall was devotion to duty. She might be a bit new to her position, but she intended on starting as she meant to go on. That meant her work came first, and frivolity came after the work was done. It was one of the things she loved about Lachlan; he not only understood, but lauded her work ethic.
Still, she longed to be with him, with her family. She heard a loud banging noise. The fireworks must have begun. She exchanged two tired feet for four swift and silent ones, merging into her Animagus form and sprinting for the hilltop where she could see a fire blazed. She did not see anyone else, though, and that was strange enough to bring her up short, stopping. Strange, harsh laughter sounded and she shrank in on herself, then saw the spark of fiery green streaking across the sky. Fireworks?
She moved hesitantly forward now, as only a cat could - ears flattened back and tail clinging to haunches, suddenly fearful. Something, she knew, was horribly wrong. The fiery green began to glow and soon an ugly skull illuminated the sky, a glowing snake head surging from its mouth. What could it be? She had never seen a fireworks display like that, if indeed, it really was a fireworks display.
She reached the edge of firelight and saw two robed figures standing by the fire. Unmoving figures lay all about. Her family!
Still, she dared not approach, trusting her instinct to watch until she knew more. Something horrible had happened.
The robed figures, men, she realised, men wearing masks, were throwing something on the fire. Death Eaters? Those disciples of the wizard who called himself Voldemort? What were they doing here? Were Aurors on the way? Should she go and sound an alarm?
It was with horror that she recognised her father, lifeless, eyes wide, mouth in a rictus of terror, being held in one of the robed figure's arms. Then the robed figure tossed her father onto the bonfire as if he was a faggot of wood... and she saw Lachlan's craggy face, his eyes astonished in death, hair ablaze where he lay on the same fire.
"Minerva!"
She jerked awake, the shriek issuing forth as it always had after this dream.
She felt a gentle hand against her face and without thinking, she hurled herself against the warm shoulder beside her that smelt of spice and musk and the unique scent that was Severus Snape, her friend and House rival and beloved colleague.
He was startled for a moment, then carefully wrapped his arms around her, holding her uncertainly.
"It's all right," he murmured in his deep voice. "It was just a dream."
She shook her head, but could not speak. The dream-memory had plagued her over forty years now. This was the first time she had ever woken from the horrific dream and not been alone. To her chagrin she found she could not stop the tears, so she did not try. She clung to Severus and was immeasurably relieved and grateful when he merely held her more snugly and rubbed her back with gentle hands.
The memory of her family's slaughter remained as sharp as the night she'd first experienced it, a young and well-positioned worker at the Ministry, and one of the secret arbiters who worked solely at the discretion of the Minister. They had been innocent. Voldemort had slaughtered them to show the Minister that not only could he attack with impunity, but that he knew who worked for him. The death of her family members signalled a leak at the Ministry and made paranoia the watchword ever after among most of the departments, but particularly among the Minister's staff. They became more concerned with the leak, it seemed to her, than in finding the perpetrators and bringing them to justice. She suffered a terrible crisis of conscience.
It had changed everything, but not more so than for the young woman she'd been, who was left rudderless. As sole survivor, she wound up with the entirety of her family's holdings, a fortune she would gladly have given away to return her loved ones to her.
There were ways, she knew, but they were dark ways. There was also her Time-Turner, but that would breach rules set out from times past and by more learned wizards and witches than her. So she'd been in a quandary. Vigilantism or putting already shattered faith back in the Ministry?
Albus Dumbledore had approached her, taken her into his confidence; he was starting a sub rosa group intended to investigate, protect and fight against Voldemort. Shaken by her feelings of revenge, she broke Ministry rule for the first time in her life and entrusted her Time-Turner to Albus Dumbledore. Could he hold it for her until she needed it back?
He gravely accepted it, and, a few weeks later, when the Aurors proved unable to do anything, she met with Dumbledore again, who asked if she had considered teaching... he had a position that needed filling. He also gently handed back the Time-Turner. It would doubtlessly prove useful he told her, but it was also far too tempting a trinket for a chess player. It was best in the hands of the one who had been entrusted with it.
He had given her purpose, a job, tasks that helped his efforts against Voldemort, and more importantly, although she had not realised it at the time, a sense of family. The other teachers welcomed her, accepted her, and soon she was a valued and respected colleague. She had never regretted her decision.
Now the fiend who had led to it was dead, she recalled, and new shudders ran through her.
She had not slain him, but she had helped the one who could, and had done all in her power to ensure his success.
The man who held her had given all he had to the same task, if for different reasons.
Suddenly, Minerva felt a frisson of heat, of blossoming desire, filling her. It was, she knew, a reaction to events. Severus had suffered his own soon after waking, but she had not had time to process events. She had been nursemaiding him and tending to his needs. His very personal needs.
More fierce heat surged through her and she had to fight the impulse to start kissing him, caressing him. Severus, no doubt, would be horrified. She was sure he had never thought of her in that manner.
"Severus," she whispered against his neck, and he started, then nodded.
He was, she noted, incredibly warm. They were pressed together from head to knees and not an inch of him was cool. This was a very gratifying sign of his recovery and she sighed her contentment.
She smiled against his neck, rubbing her cheek against him, and he repositioned himself slightly. She did, as well, bringing him closer and enjoying his warmth like the cat which was a part of her. An uncomfortable source of pressure pushed against her pelvis and she frowned until she realised what it must be. Surreptitious shifting confirmed it as he made a slight sound and tried to pull his hips back.
She sighed.
"It's all right, Severus. It doesn't bother me."
He stilled, then she could feel his blush, the fierce surge of heat against her face. She smiled.
"It's a good sign, as well. It means your circulation has improved."
He made a sound rather suspiciously like a bitten-off groan and she sighed again.
"Honestly, dear. I know you've no designs on me. There's no need to feel shame." She held him close again and rubbed his back even as he stiffened and began to tremble. She sighed again. "Truly."
When he spoke, she almost could not hear him despite their proximity. She could feel his lips against her temple as he mumbled.
"And if I did?"
Minerva frowned.
"If you--"
She pulled back, but he could not meet her eyes. Tremors assailed him and she abruptly realised it was ardour that was making him tremble so.
The frisson of desire from before nearly overwhelmed her as it rushed back, but she banked it. This was too sudden, too new. She had no wish to frighten him nor harm their friendship as it was. She had known Severus, she abruptly recalled, for nearly thirty years, man and boy.
Carefully, more carefully than she had done anything in the time they had been secreted away, she touched fingertips to his cheek.
The heat bled from his face to her fingers and she found herself stroking his bewhiskered jaw, stroking back until she could run her fingers through his long hair. He had not seen to it the entire last year at the school, more occupied with other things, and it had grown rather long. Now it was well past his shoulders.
"My braw lad," she whispered softly, nearly crooning as tears filled her eyes. "Tapadh leibh."
He frowned, studying her, then awareness filled his gaze, but his voice remained puzzled. "What for?"
Her own whisper was barely audible now.
"Making me feel... wanted again." Her smile was tremulous, but her fingers remained gentle as she caressed his neck and shoulders now. "It's been a long time."
"Ah." He nodded, then, to her delight, took her stroking hand in his and kissed it. "I'm... not certain I can do very much, anyway."
She drew in a steadying breath and smiled at him. "That's perfectly all right. These things are best done gradually, I'm given to understand."
He studied her again, then said, "That's not what I meant. I... I made a promise a long time ago. I've kept it so far, but now..."
"Now?"
"I promised I'd keep to myself. That I wouldn't... have sex. I've never considered breaking that promise... until now."
She considered this, then nodded at him. "I made the same sort of vow a long time ago. I understand how powerful the need to punish oneself can be."
He frowned at this and she shook her head. "Yes, I said punish. Saving oneself is never about another, but about yourself. Keeping from others for the sake of someone else... someone dead... is always about yourself. The person who's gone cannot appreciate it. It is not like a marriage or bonding vow, which is done in parity between two people where the vow is sanctified anew with every instant it is kept. You cannot keep a promise to a dead person, only to yourself. In keeping it, you remember the person each time the vow is recalled. The greater the sacrifice, the more often the person is recalled, the more impact the memory gains."
Severus looked angry, but he listened, and as he listened, he calmed, considering her words. She continued in a quiet voice, no longer looking at him, her gaze seemingly far-off.
"Given enough time, the person gone becomes the focal point for your pain -- a faultless, guiltless, perfect and unassailable entity you have deified through sacrifice."
"You think I'm a fool."
Minerva blinked, looking at him again. "I wasn't speaking of you at all, Severus, but of myself."
His eyes widened. She smiled sadly and put her hand back up to his face.
"Do you think you're the only one who ever lost someone to that madman?"
He studied her as realisation came to him. His black eyes were suspiciously bright. "I apologise. I thought you..."
"You thought I was treading on your memories of Lily."
He flinched, but nodded, and she sighed, giving in to the impulse to hold him close. "No, Severus. No more than you tread on my memories of Lachlan. Do you know why?"
He shook his head slowly, holding her a bit uncertainly now.
Minerva stroked his cheek. "Because I care for you just as I did for him."
"Lachlan."
"My fiance." She swallowed. "Voldemort killed him, along with my family, a long time ago."
He stilled briefly, then he held her closer, losing his prior hesitation. "Minerva..."
"A long time ago, Severus," she repeated. "And time to be moving on, I'm thinking."
He finally nodded, and just held her.
My Dearest Milly, Enclosed please find your ticket for our game against the Vladivostok Vultures. I am so looking forward to seeing you again, my sweet. Please say you will be coming. I long to hold you again. Viktor
* * * * * *
Viktor, Has a bludger hit you in the head? Of course, I'll be there! I'll be coming, too. longingly, Milly
They had slept in the end, a bit wrung out from their confessions and discoveries, sharing nothing more than a few caresses that conveyed banked anticipation.
Still, they had not pulled away from each other, and so it was that Severus woke in someone's arms for the first time in his life.
He held Minerva a bit tighter as he stirred, gratified and a bit fearful as one. She understood him far better than he'd thought, but he felt his lack of experience acutely.
He strove now to relax. It was the first time in a very long time that either had been able to take their ease. With him more or less on his feet, the constant need for potions and treatment had finally eased. There was nothing that required regular attention. He could afford to relax.
"Mm... good morning, my dear."
He smiled and his arms tightened around her for a moment as he murmured, "Good morning."
She smiled and cast a quick freshening charm over both their mouths, earning her a shy smile, which she returned.
She reached a hand up to touch his face as she pulled back to look at him and she found herself the recipient of an ardent, if unpractised kiss. The realisation anew that he had never done this gentled her response. She carefully eased him back, shifted the angle of her face and then their kiss deepened and grew as her newfound lover learned what pleased them both.
He was moving against her, unconsciously thrusting his hips in a timeless rhythm, as his lips and tongue explored her own. Minerva considered this for a moment, then made a decision.
Severus gasped as their night clothes disappeared and he felt all of her against him.
"There now."
He studied her, then very slowly and deliberately moved to bury his face in the powder soft skin of her throat.
She shuddered as his lips followed the tendons and mapped the veins in the long column of her neck. Her hands clenched on his upper arms and he groaned and traced kisses down to the hollow of her neck, where he paused.
Slowly, so slowly, as if uncertain of her response, one hand sought and found the small mound of one of her breasts and they both gasped.
"So soft," he murmured, caressing it with his palm, astonished at the smoothness against his own work-roughened skin. She nearly said something, then cried out as his lips found her other breast and she gave in to the sensations, letting them wash over her. It had been so long.
"My lady..."
She swallowed and let her hands run over him as they pleased.
"Mo mhùirnìn... Mo cridhe."
He scarcely paused as she crooned at him, desperate now with desire.
She knew he was unlikely to last this first time and accepted it without qualms. Perhaps it would be best to facilitate matters, and then they could learn each other more leisurely over the course of the day.
She insinuated her hand between them, gently cupping and squeezing him and smiling as he cried out.
"Easy."
"M-minerva... I don't know how long..."
"Let it happen on its own, Severus. It's Nature's way and naught to be ashamed of."
He trembled. "I... I wanted to be inside you."
She smiled, and took one of his hands. Without a word, she led it to the lips of her cunt and let him feel her slick entry. His fingers stroked gently and when she gasped, he returned to the spot, to the aching nub of her clitoris and gently brushed it. She pursed her lips at the intense sensation and shifted his hand to the side of her throbbing need. He swiftly took up a careful rhythm, brushing along the sides of it, long fingers dipping all the way down to her entry and back again. Soon she was rocking into his touch and he firmed it, eventually pressing his palm to her, groaning as he felt her wet it with her slickness as she tensed and came against him.
Minerva felt herself relax back onto the bed, and she smiled up at him. "Ach, Severus... my braw lad."
He leaned down to kiss her and she reached for him at the same time, fitting him to her. He froze, staring at her uncertainly, studying her gaze.
"Tha mi'g iarraidh tuilleadh."
His gaze darkened with lust at her tone and she cried out as he plunged inside her depths.
Merlin and Morgana, but it's been far too long.
It was her last coherent thought as Severus established a forceful rhythm that drove all reason from her mind.
She could only hear his grunting breath, half-murmured words he was unaware he made, and feel his long, hard cock filling her equally needy cunt, smell their combined sweat and the musky salt scent of sex.
"Tuilleadh!"
He sped up, moving to kiss her. The new position had his hard shaft stroking her clitoris with each stroke, and she felt herself falling again. She cried out in exultation.
"Seo e!"
Her shout galvanised him and he moaned at the feeling of her tightening around him, even wetter and slicker than before, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. He shuddered, feeling his own orgasm swiftly approaching.
Minerva's voice was languid, sultry with satiation.
"Thusa a-nise, Severus."
Her soft words of encouragement coupled with her fingers stroking his face were too much for him.
"Minerva!" He shuddered through his climax, feeling each separate pulse of ejaculate, the intense pleasure washing over him in waves. "Oh, gods..."
It should really have come as no surprise.
The game was not long at all. Viktor had gone after the Snitch with such ferocity that the golden, feathered ball seemed to shriek and freeze in terror as he swooped down on it, a mere three minutes after the game had begun. 150 points to Bulgaria. It was scarcely worth suiting up.
Until, that is, he realized what a turn-on his uniform was to Millicent.
She rushed to his changing room without hesitation, despite the shocked look of some of the reporters who tended to follow him about, and tackled him by the massage table.
"Oh, Viktor!"
"Milly..."
The sound of flash bulbs gave them pause, and Millicent waved her wand in irritation, swiftly spelling the curtains shut and adding a Privacy Charm. She turned back to Viktor and lifted a brow, smiling.
"Now where were we?"
He hiked her up and onto the table to kiss her at his leisure. He was so pleasantly engrossed in this, that he didn't realise she was undressing him until his team shirt fell away.
"Milly?"
"I've been waiting." She eyed him avidly, spreading her legs farther and bringing him closer still to her.
He didn't want to question his good fortune, but manners had been ingrained in him, and consideration for her reputation was his foremost concern.
"Milly, are you sure you do not want to wait for--" His words were cut off by Milly's tongue, which thrust in his mouth in imitation of what she so clearly wanted.
"I've been waiting," she repeated huskily, lifting her skirts but a little, just enough to show him her Slytherin garter and her utter and unashamed lack of undergarments.
"Milly!"
His confused cock, at first hard from her avid embrace, then tempered due to his hesitance, now surged forward and tried to rip a hole through his trousers.
She corrected this situation with a judicious bit of magic, and soon he was waving before her, a thick, red, blunt-headed warrior proudly saluting his commander.
"Milly, are you... have you..."
"No, and what are you waiting for?"
He took one of her hands in his and kissed it. She sighed so needfully that he had to swallow.
"Milly, it will hurt. I don't want--"
"I know that. But it won't hurt that long and I've been waiting. I've been of age a year already. Oh, Viktor!"
He slid a hand to her cunt and pressed his knuckles to her damp flesh. She writhed and moaned.
He kept his hand there, but put his thumb to good use, rubbing her hot, juicy clit. Millicent screamed lustily, her desire making his head swim. Panting, he moved forward and kissed her, hard. She bit at him lightly and they exchanged a desperate kiss, Milly moaning all through it as he stimulated her.
Suddenly she stiffened and his knuckles were bathed in slickness. Without hesitation he moved his hand aside and thrust into her with one solid stroke.
Her legs crushed him, wrapped around his hips, her heels resting in the small of his back as she held her breath and rode out the painful sensation and he held still, waiting.
Soon, she urged him on and he began to move, sinuously grinding his hips as his cock moved in and out within her cunt. They both kissed, and moaned, and writhed.
She soon climaxed again, crying out into his shoulder, biting at his muscled arm and he gasped, thrusting harder, amazed at how well she was accepting his bulk. He was not a small man in that regard and he had learned to be gentle, but Milly took all of him with ease and he was able to thrust as vigorously as he dared. This was enough to make him mad with lust for her.
"Milly!"
"Viktor!"
She climaxed once again and he pounded into her, feeling himself empty within her welcoming depths, bollocks deep.
When he drew back, she smiled, a private smile meant only for him, and gently kissed his sweaty forehead.
"I think I love you."
His eyes brightened, and his own smile grew. "Oh, my sweet Millicent."
"I'm all yours," she declared, leaning back to rest on her elbows, unconsciously causing her breasts to point up and showing him her wet, coral cunt.
He did not waste time with words.
Viktor bent over and let his tongue speak for him as he introduced Milly to his second favourite activity after Quidditch.
It was Bulgaria's next game where Viktor put all the rumours to rest and gave the reporters something else to focus on when he had half the spectators on the opposite side of Millicent's seat spell out the words "Marry me, Milly. Please."
Millicent Bulstrode decided that there were definitely times it was okay to cry, as well as indulge in public displays of affection.
It had not been too hard a sacrifice to be made for the sake of peace in the wizarding world and personal vindication, but Severus decided the intensity of pleasure and gratification he had finally discovered in lying with a witch was worth any lingering guilt over the loss of his cherished virginity. He wondered if his long abstinence had any affect on the seemingly overwhelming assault to his senses. Was it like this for all wizards?
Minerva was astride him, slowly riding up and down on his cock, and he could feast his gaze on her pale pink nipples and how they contrasted so pleasingly with her ivory skin. What imperfections her skin might have held did not matter in his eyes; his own body was imperfect, but with it, he would worship her, like the lady she was and, as she deserved to be. He would lie still if she asked, as she had asked, in fact, and use nothing but his gaze to show her what he felt.
Her strong hands were rubbing back and forth over his chest as she moved, leaving behind trails of tingling heat, making him moan each time she rubbed his tightly crinkled nipples. Her own gaze was avid, feasting on his obvious pleasure and revealing her own.
She had already come a few times, enough that her musky fluid trickled slowly down his hefty bollocks as she moved. He could feel his bollocks swelling and lifting and struggled to hold back. She spoke in a throaty whisper and he struggled to understand, to focus...
"Siuthad."
Her gaze clearly told him what she wanted from him. He cried out helplessly.
Severus grit his teeth and clenched his hands. His dark eyes, trying to keep watching her, disobeyed him and rolled back as his body obeyed her and came in powerful waves that threatened to drown him in an immensity of blissful feelings.
It was a long while before he heard her softly repeated words, punctuated by the stroking of her hand to his chest near where her head lay. He blinked as he realised she was no longer astride him, but curled up against his side, her head against his shoulder.
"Severus. Love."
He frowned and turned to look at her and she repeated it one last time, before kissing him gently.
"Am I?"
She smiled and nodded. This time he kissed her, then lay back again, sighing satisfaction and fatigue alike. Sleep overtook them both, and when they woke, the high window revealed a patch of blue sky amidst the clouds.
"What time is it?"
She smiled. "Late morning, I believe. Does it matter?"
He shook his head. "For a change, it does not."
He turned to her and caressed her face. It was, he realized, beloved to him. She had been in his life for so long, teacher, colleague, ally, worthy adversary, good friend, lover...
"It's been a long time," he noted.
She smiled up at him, a touch of uncertainty in her expression. "It has. And I need you to know, Severus, that I don't expect more than this. It's all probably just... misplaced joi de vivre."
"Perhaps," he conceded, looking pensive. "I'm certainly glad to be alive, and I'm glad to be with you, Minerva, but I don't think it's misplaced, and really, I don't know what I expect or expected, aside from not still being alive."
She frowned at this and pulled him to her, holding him close.
"I'm so sorry. I wish you had felt able to confide in me," she admitted. "You and Albus both."
He shook his head.
"I did what Albus asked. The boy won and he's alive. That's..." he paused as his throat tightened, and finished in a rough whisper, "that's what matters."
Minerva stroked his back. "Yes. You kept your promise."
He swallowed. "Not all of them."
She considered this, then sighed. "There does come a time, Severus, when you have to live for you. You've never had that. It's past time, I'd say."
He pulled back to look at her and she stroked his face.
"I refuse to feel guilty over what we've done, Severus. We're both adults, and we both wanted it, needed it some might say. Wherever we go from here, even if it should never happen again, I plan to treasure what happened here."
"Yes."
He leaned over to kiss her tenderly and she was surprised as his kisses went from her mouth, to her cheek, jaw and neck. His hands began to stroke gently over her skin.
"Severus?"
He barely paused, mouth hovering above her collarbone. "I treasure it, too, Minerva. But there are no words I could ever use to thank you. So--"
His head dipped as he carefully began to lave one of her small breasts and her fingers clenched on his shoulders.
"Severus..."
He did not respond verbally, his hands and mouth answering her, showing her without words what he felt. Soon she was splayed out before him and any apprehension she may have had, or vulnerability she may have felt, fled in the gentle, but thorough onslaught of his lips and teeth and tongue.
"Severus!"
He had never done it before, but he had read of it, and dreamt of it, and Minerva was the beneficiary of twenty years of pent-up desire. Her scent filled his nostrils as her flavour was imprinted on his brain from his eager tongue, discovering anew this secret place of witchly pleasure he had long denied himself.
He could scarcely hear her cries as he learnt every curve and fold and bump of slick flesh. He was not even aware that he was hard again, his cock flat to his belly, head damp with pre-come.
When her thighs clamped on his shoulders, he lifted his head long enough to hear her cry out, and he watched her find her own pleasure.
Her voice was so hungry when she spoke he was taken aback. "Severus -- your fingers, or your cock. Now. Please!"
She writhed and he slid up and carefully aligned himself, but she bucked onto him before he could thrust in. Just like that, they were joined, thrusting together, his bollocks slapping her trim arse cheeks.
"YES!"
Her shriek was accompanied by wordless exclamations, and her hands gripped his so tightly it hurt, and he dared not stop, not even to adjust his position for comfort.
So this is a 'witch in heat', as the saying goes.
He looked his fill, savouring the moment. Minerva McGonagall was magnificent.
He groaned as his own orgasm caught up to him, and he dimly heard her cry out again, and felt her clutching him tightly as he emptied himself within her.
Afterwards, they dozed, sated, and when the brightness of the afternoon sun woke them, they moved together as one, on their sides, joining again in a gentler coupling that left them both incredibly relaxed.
A long, soothing bath refreshed them, as did food, and the subject of what was going to happen next did not crop up again. Each had decided to accept what the day brought, or indeed, what the rest of life had to bring.
Six months later...
"It seems Viktor Krum married Millicent Bulstrode."
Minerva turned in the kitchen to eye her husband where he sat at the small dinner table.
"Really?
He set down the copy of the Prophet and nodded.
"Apparently, they had a whirlwind romance and finally decided to make it legal. Their honeymoon will take them through the winter hols."
McGonagall beamed. "Well, that's delightful."
He nodded a bit pensively. "I did not feel comfortable saying anything to anyone else at the time, not even Albus, but Miss Bulstrode did attempt a, let us say secluded rendezvous with me her sixth year. I'm pleased to see she's moved past her childish fantasy."
Minerva raised a brow at this. "Oh? Has she then?"
He looked up at her and arched an inquisitive brow. She smiled.
"Severus. Miss Bulstrode married a tall, graceful, dark-eyed man who spent most of his time whilst at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament glowering from under his brows at everyone, or else in the library with his rather large nose stuck in a book. I can't imagine what she possibly sees in him."
He coloured at this observation, but merely said, "My own supposition was rather more plebeian -- I was guessing their sprog will be here in half a year."
She frowned. "Severus, you are far too cynical."
"And you, my dear, wear rose-coloured glasses." He smiled at her as she brought the toast to the table, giving her a kiss in exchange. "Still, we present a balanced pair."
She smiled back as she settled down, adding a pat of butter to both toast and her porridge as Severus picked his paper back up and continued reading. She mused as she stirred.
She was not young, no, but, as a witch, she was not old either. Or as her mother would have put it, when you're 99 and he's 69 who will care?" It still bothered her, though. His intense interest in the Prophet, his taciturn avoidance of the local group of Wizarding folk in the area. It was part of a pattern that disquieted her.
"Severus, does it bother you? Being here, I mean? You know I'd go back with you in a trice if you but asked."
He set his paper down again. His tone was even and held no hint of annoyance, although it was not the first, or even the third time she had asked. "No, Minerva. Truly."
Kingsley had asked, also. When he'd come two and a half months after sending them to safety, to inform them most of the Death Eaters had been rounded up, he had offered them both the chance to return.
It was far easier for Minerva. She could always claim herself recovered. To Severus, Shacklebolt had offered to take the blame, willing to state publicly he had made a mistake when he thought Severus was dead, and offering to declare that he had been in hiding, uncertain, but had come forward. So far as Kingsley was concerned, having seen Snape's memories and spoken in depth with Dumbledore's portrait, the Wizarding world owed Severus a great debt... not to mention 18 years back pay for services to the Ministry, at hazard duty rates.
Severus had nearly demurred, but Minerva stayed his hand. His ordeal had left him prone to stiffness and pain. He was not the same man he had been, hair streaked now with silver, once resonant voice a touch raspy from snakebite damage.
They both had places, her own holdings in Scotland, and his residence in Yorkshire. Shacklebolt asked what they wanted. He could do whatever was within his power for them, and would, without hesitation.
They finally decided to keep Minerva's residence, for whenever they wished to visit home, and to sell Snape's. The monies from that he could add to their savings account.
The monies comprising his back pay were set up as a fund in his name for impoverished Slytherin students, to provide them new robes and books each school year, and a small stipend of spending money each month they were in school. Shacklebolt agreed. He also offered Severus pleasant contract work -- the Ministry was in dire need of an expert in posology. Minerva had discovered an expansive back lawn, with a greenhouse and a small, but well-built shed. Severus had been eyeing it with intent of setting up a lab.
Minerva was not sure what she wanted to do, but had found to her surprise, that returning to teach youngsters no longer appealed. There were a few American wizards and witches, all adults, she discovered, who sought more education in Transfiguration and spell work than their home-schooling had provided. There was a niche for her here if she wished it.
They were, Shacklebolt reminded them, here as husband and wife, after all. Shacklebolt had smiled and reminded them, that as Minister, he could make that reality.
Minerva's only qualm was about her name. The name of her clan was important to her. Severus had no such qualms. He despised the man who had given him his name anyway.
So it was that the names on their passports were changed, and Severus Snape, without vacillation or any sign of reluctance or regret, became Severus McGonagall. Shacklebolt was pleased as punch to perform the service in the back lawn of the house which was his own wedding gift to them.
She looked now on that back garden, covered with frost. In a few months, spring would come, and she and Severus would plant herbs that they could cook with and that he could use for his potions research. They would plant vegetables and fruit for their table.
It would be, she suddenly knew, a very good crop.
Epilogue...
"Nicholai! Ivanka!" Millicent's voice carried over the crowd of tourists to her ten year old twins.
She was so very pleased to have been able to bring them on this vacation, their last summer before they began school at Durmstrang. Viktor was playing his last year of professional Quidditch, and his tour had brought them to the Americas, where Quidditch was more a curiosity than a major sport, although what American fans existed were more avid than even their European counterparts.
Her husband had been in an exhibition game and he was resting at their hotel now, so she had taken the children out to view the sights and allow their father uninterrupted sleep. She also intended to tire them out; she had plans for Viktor later that night. In all their years together, despite her misgivings before they married, he had never strayed. She was more than enough for him, he had told her on their wedding night almost twenty years ago, and Viktor was a man of his word. This meant a lot to her, and she planned for that never to change.
While she was ruminating, Nicholai ran directly into a tall, lean man in rather sombre clothes for an American. Was he a tourist, she wondered, as she chided her son. Then the man turned, stilled for a fraction of a moment, before nodding at her politely and saying, "Excuse me, ma'am."
She froze. That voice. She had once known that voice. It had been the one that welcomed her to Slytherin House when she had been eleven years old. The one that had made her swoon inside all through her sixth year.
She nearly grabbed at him, but Ivanka pulled on her arm.
"Mama?"
Millicent put a quelling hand up and stared after the man. He walked along London Bridge with the slow, measured tread of someone who was tired. It was nothing like the graceful strides she remembered. In the distance, a slender woman with equally silvered hair, plaited behind her, waited for him. He bent slightly to kiss her, just a bit longer and more avidly than was publicly appropriate, before taking her hand in his and leading them off the bridge.
For a moment, Millicent could see a flaring black cloak in her mind's eye. Then she shook her head. She must have been mistaken.
This man was silver-haired, bearded, and looked more like a brigand, albeit a well-tailored and polite one, than her old Head of House. His teeth were crooked, but ivory, and his skin was heavily tanned, as well. No, she was being fanciful.
She recalled now the pallid, black-haired, yellow-toothed, singularly taciturn and largely undemonstrative man she had once loved almost as much as her own father, and sighed sadly.
"Mama? What is wrong?"
She smiled down at her two children and took them by the hand, heading in a different direction.
"Let's go find something to eat, and I'll tell you a story about a very special wizard I once knew."
~FINITE~
post A/N: Why, yes, Severus was using a spot of Legilimency during their more intimate moments. He's a sneaky lad. Speaking of Scottish:
"Tapadh leibh."
[Thank you.] (this is a very formal phraze, not like the more common Tapadh leat in everyday use.)
"Mo mhùirnìn... Mo cridhe."
[My darling. My heart.]
"Tha mi'g iarraidh tuilleadh."
[I want more.]
"Tuilleadh!"
[More!]
"Seo e!"
[Here it is!]
"Thusa a-nise."
[Your turn now.]
"Siuthad."
[Go on.]
Other tidbits:
Whereas April through June are normally the driest in the Lake Havasu area, one anecdotal account of 1998 (London Bridge Artistic Happening on 29 May 1998) reports: The weather in the days leading up to Friday 29 May was on the whole dreadful. Long story short - it rained until the very day of the festivities. For those who don't know, London Bridge was moved and reconstructed in Arizona beginning in 1968.
Knowing something of the area, as well as its significance to many expatriates, it amused me to set Severus and Minerva's portion of the tale here. The house depicted here is the interior of an actual house I once visited, but not to be taken as a typical dwelling in the region. I just felt it was so very different from most of the UK dwellings with which I'm familiar, so eclectically middle-class American, that I wished to use it here. Minerva, you're not in Craigiebank anymore... (There are McGonagall's in Dundee, as I'm sure there are elsewhere in the UK, but it amuses me to think she hailed from this picturesque area.)
For the edification of those who are curious, particularly those readers who might feel sex ends after forty (young ladies, you have a big and very pleasant surprise coming! You young men - enjoy your blessings to the fullest whilst you're able, that's why Nature was kind, if mysterious), I rec reading: Sexual Response and Aging
The tea which Minerva professes to prefer is a real tea and (for some of us) a nigh-religious experience: Mackwoods Teas.
Finally, for those who wonder, Posology is a specialized field of study involving dosages of medicine.