InsaneJournal

Ficlet: Pavlov's Wolf (PG-13)
Title:Pavlov's Wolf
Author: Omni (rip_von_christ on lj)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Implications of food + sex, may be cracky?, unbetaed
Prompt: pomegranate
Summary: Certain things can remind us of certain tastes. And certain tastes can remind us of certain things.
Word Count: 900+
Note: I only did this because I craved a writing exercise, and the lovely Lore was kind enough to provide a prompt. There is no point to this, really. Hah.



“Christ, I think I’d almost prefer gizzards or slugs or something,” Sirius was complaining as he shook his sticky hands.

Remus jerked away as Sirius unintentionally flicked seeds all over him. He cast a quick glance at their cauldron to make certain no stray seeds ruined the brew. Not that it really mattered, he supposed, considering it was a strange fluorescent purple when it was supposed to be deep indigo. He really never should have let Sirius handle the proportions.

Two tables down and to the left, Severus Snape was carefully dropping in his pomegranate seeds, one by one. Remus watched as the other boy’s fingers gently relinquished each tiny deposit at just the right time. Then Snape lifted those fingers—sticky and red from the juices—to his lips. Swallowing hard, Remus couldn’t help but stare transfixed as Snape licked and sucked at each long, slender digit.

His gaze traveled slowly up Snape’s face, and he felt his throat clench when he saw dark eyes staring back at him. Maintaining eye contact, Snape slowly withdrew his finger from between moistened, juice-stained lips.

---

“Is something wrong with your juice, Lupin?”

Startled from his memories, Remus looked up from his cup of pomegranate juice and into the dark, mocking eyes of Severus Snape. The Great Hall was loud with the combined sounds of chatting and cutlery on china, and the entire place was filled with the delicious scents of pancakes and eggs and sausage. It had been a wonderful breakfast, as always, until he had reached for his juice. Instead of the bright, refreshing taste of orange, his mouth had been bombarded with a bittersweet, nearly forgotten flavor.

Shifting in his chair, Remus set the cup down. “Nothing’s wrong, Severus,” he assured, clearing his throat. Nothing wrong at all except that his body had a Pavlovian response to that damn fruit.

Smirking into his tea cup, Snape tried to make a concerned sound. “Are you certain? You seemed rather startled. Now you’re a bit flush.”

“I just hadn’t expected a change in juices, is all. Threw off my routine.”

“Indeed.” Nothing but wry amusement laced Snape’s tone, which made Remus prickle with suspicion.

“Did you know they were changing the juice?”

“What ever do you mean?”

“The juice. That they were switching to pomegranate.”

“Lupin.” Snape set his tea cup down and arched his brows in the same manner he reacted to particularly thick first years. “Our beverages are made to order. They are based upon our preferences. For instance, Minerva always has grapefruit juice. Albus always has something unidentifiable and sugary. I always have tea. Each of us gets what we want. Obviously today you wanted pomegranate.”

“I—” Remus looked back down at the tumbler. “But… I usually drink orange juice.”

“Hm. Yes. Fascinating. My point is that today you must have been craving pomegranate. There is no other reason for it.” Obviously feeling that the matter had been settled, Snape turned back to his pastry. Which made Remus blink and do a double-take, because Snape never ate sweet things, let alone gooey pastries.

It was as he watched Snape lick his sticky fingers clean that everything clicked into place. “You,” he whispered, voice low and accusing. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“What ever do you mean?” Snape blinked innocently at him, which was a complete failure because Snape was never innocent a day in his whole damn life.

“The finger licking. Just like back then. That’s why I got pomegranate.”

Snape’s expression, which seemed to say ‘Remus Lupin, you belong in a padded cell in the Janus Ward,’ was far more sincere than the innocent look. “The devil are you on about, now?”

“Back then! With the pomegranate seeds. Sixth year, I think? You were practically fellating your fingers.”

Snape choked on his sip of tea. “I beg your pardon!”

“Sucking and licking at them. Locking eyes with me while doing so, I might add. Confused the hell out of me for months, I’ll tell you what. No idea if that meant you were messing with me or if you’d be amenable to getting up to something behind the quidditch stands.”

“Quidditch stands!” Snape snorted. “Of course I’d never want to do something like that with you. Good lord, man.” He took another sip of his tea and flashed Remus a glance loaded with dark promises. “I much prefer the warmth and comfort of my own bed.”

It took a few beats for all the implications to sink in. Remus’ body froze while his mind raced. “I don’t have classes for another two hours.”

Snape casually dabbed his lips with his napkin as if everything was perfectly normal and they weren’t discussing what they were discussing. “I’ve got only one hour, but they’re seventh years and can be instructed to participate in independent study.”

“Lovely. So.” Clearing his throat, Remus started to slide his chair back. Just before he stood, a pomegranate popped into being in the center of his empty plate.

Already on his feet, Snape leaned in and snatched up the fruit. “Best bring this,” he said by way of explanation. “I’ve always been quite fond of the taste.”

Remus bit his lip to hold back a groan, then scrambled to his feet to follow the other professor.

Pomegranate had never really been one of his favorite flavors before, but Remus suspected he was likely to develop quite a fondness for it.