Entry tags:

*fic, millicent, minerva, snape, viktor

Special delivery for snapelike (part 1)
Title: A Toxic & Tender Time
Author: psyfic
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

Author's many, many notes: Rowling stated in one of her postscript interviews that McGonagall did not become Headmistress because she retired. This seemed rather odd to me, because, in print canon she established wizards & witches live nearly twice as long as Muggles, and Albus Dumbledore was Headmaster at well over a hundred, and were it not for a terminal Horcrux Curse and his decision to ask a good friend to euthanize him at the most opportune moment, he might well have continued to hold his job.

The other thing she established in print canon is that McGonagall is a black-haired, clearly vital witch, who took several hexes in 5th year and came back as sharp witted and ready to head her boisterous, headstrong house, as ever. Moreover, as regards Snape, there is no body, no portrait, no funeral (when even a murderous monster spider was eulogized in the prior book and a prosthetic eye is given a burial in DH) and no Resurrection Stone appearance. This, when coupled with the fact he is a master spy who is suspicious of everyone and could teach even the not-too dunderheaded to stopper death, means, by my lights, that Rowling's inHerview canon just doesn't fly, so this tale explains what really happened to them both. Thank you, lysa1, for allowing me to correct Rowling's hubris this grave bit of illogic.

You mentioned you don't care for non-con or sex without love. I'll be honest and admit this skirts both, but does not commit them. There is contact that is sexual in nature, but not sex. There is medical treatment that necessitates it with a person who is unconscious in order to save their life. It is not glorified and is very much a part of the h/c aspect of the fic. When the sex does occur between our two couples, there is definitely love. I'm sorry if that spoils the fic for anyone, but I really needed to make that clear.

Alas, Severus was not feeling too terribly snarky, but given the circumstances, I'm sure that's understandable, poor hurty Prince. I used cock and cunt, as requested, although I did use medical terminology for the less sexy parts of the fic for reasons which should be obvious. Lastly, and as requested, this story uses book canon, but isn't married to it, particularly the crapilogue epilogue.

~*~

"I'm afraid we have no choice, Minerva."

McGonagall nodded at Kingsley Shacklebolt as they both watched Poppy Pomfrey working tirelessly on the blood-stained, seemingly dead figure on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. He was near dead from blood loss when they'd found him, but clinging to life due to a bezoar, per the knowledgeable Pomfrey. The mediwitch's main concern had been the amount of time his extremities had been deprived of oxygen-rich blood. She could regrow his vessels and heal the nerves, if need be, but could not guarantee his full use of hands and feet and genitals without rigorous treatment, now and for the foreseeable future, which was why Minerva was being given little choice by the new acting Minister for Magic.

"There are still Death Eaters out there. There's already been word that families they felt were blood traitors have been torched. No deaths yet, but do you know what they'd do if they found out Severus Snape was still alive? He was on our side, he was a valuable spy, he was working for Dumbledore, which is good enough for me. I'll do my best to keep him alive, but he can't stay here, word travels fast. He's vulnerable now and he needs care. You're the only one who can do it."

Minerva hesitated, averting her eyes as Poppy abruptly stripped Severus, and began to cast diagnostic spells over his torso.

"Kingsley."

"I don't want to have to make it an order, Agent Grey."

She stared up at him, stricken. He gave her a thin smile in exchange.

"Unspeakables never retire, Minerva. You know it, as well as I do."

She drew herself up to her full height. Her expression was severe, but she nodded, thinking back to what she had seen less than an hour earlier...






She had looked at the memories.

Harry had left them in the Pensieve, not that she blamed him; the boy had clearly had far too much on his shoulders, on his mind, during the Final Battle. It was over now, though, and the injured were being tended, the dead gathered, and when she went to the Headmaster's office to secure it, she found them, found the empty vial and wondered at it.

Minerva was far too cautious to merely dip her head in, so she waved her wand above the Pensieve to stir the memories until a vision in one cleared and she saw something she had never seen in the nearly 30 years she had known him -- she saw Severus Snape on his knees, crying.

It was intriguing enough, and the memory of Voldemort's arrogant admission of his murder was recent enough, for her to want to know more about her erstwhile colleague.

She emerged from the Pensieve sometime later, shaken, eyes filled with tears. Oh, Severus...

The least she could do, she decided, was to assure he was buried with all due honour.

She had sought and found a weary Harry Potter approaching Gryffindor Tower and asked him the circumstances of Snape's death and the location of his body. He had quickly briefed her, asking if she needed anything further.

Minerva shook her head and thanked Harry, assuring him she would find Snape and tend to his body. The exhausted Potter had gratefully climbed up to his well-deserved rest, and she had hurried to the Great Hall. As soon as she heard Severus had not been killed by the Killing Curse, as she'd imagined, but by Voldemort's odious serpent, one thought kept going through her mind.

No serpent would ever kill a Slytherin.






She had found the momentarily resting Pomfrey, who was observing the bandaging of a combatant, occasionally giving suggestions to the young man working under her supervision, clearly gathering her energies before the next emergency garnered her attention. Many of the injured, McGonagall noted, were gone, presumably to St. Mungo's.

Pomfrey had not asked any questions, merely got up to follow McGonagall at her behest. They were just outside the main entrance of the school when Kingsley Shacklebolt, now interim Minister Of Magic, intercepted them.

"Minerva. I take it you are acting Headmistress?"

She nodded. "For now. There exists the possibility the former Headmaster is still alive. We were about to ascertain the truth of it."

He and Pomfrey both frowned, then he nodded at the two women.

"By all means, then, lead the way."

~*~

Poppy was obviously exhausted, but she still managed to deliver the crucial instructions in a clear, no-nonsense tone as she gently covered Severus with the clean blanket Minerva had transfigured from his blood-soaked robe.

"Blood Replenishment Solution every six hours for the next 72 hours. Anti-venom every four hours until all the venom has been passed, along with Fever-reducing Potion as needed, every four hours. Unfortunately, he's been untended for so long that the poison in his system pooled and was absorbed into his glandular system and that's a bit trickier to detoxify. Regular doses of anti-venom will help his kidneys begin to filter out the toxin, and his liver will slowly metabolise them. Then there's Anti-sepsis Solution, every six hours, to be taken no sooner than an hour after the Blood Replenishment Solution, again, until the venom has all been passed."

"But Poppy -- how am I to know when the venom is gone?"

"You'll be able to tell. He's likely to excrete it in his urine, sweat and feces. Which reminds me, Hydrating Solution every four hours, as well. He lost so much blood he nearly suffered circulatory collapse. Do you remember what I said about his circulation?"

Minerva felt herself flush, but spoke in a firm tone. "Yes. Thorough massage will be necessary, including the genitals, until his limbs can maintain a normal temperature, and I'm to contact you immediately for Vessel Regrowth Potion and Nerve-Heal if any of his extremities turn blue or black or remain cold."

"Good. Don't be missish. Whatever part of his body you neglect are ones he might not regain full use of, or even lose. That includes his genitals."

Minerva swallowed, but nodded.

"Good. Until he can take in food, he'll need Nutritional Potion. It's better if it's specifically brewed for age and gender, but beggars can't be choosy. The formulation St. Mungo's supplied is an all purpose adult formula. It has nowhere near enough zinc, so try to get him to drink it with double strength cocoa. Once he's able to eat, he should have three squares a day of Honeyduke's Finest Dark until he's actually back to normal activity levels. Speaking of which, he's going to need Strengthening Solution once he wakes, twice a day until he's on his feet."

Minerva nodded and conjured a parchment which Poppy tapped with her wand, and her instructions were replicated there in a beautiful Copperplate script.

Pomfrey looked to Shacklebolt who stood by the door, patently ignoring what she did. He had said, rather enigmatically, that he was settling details for Severus's convalescence, but he appeared to be using his wand to shuffle sheets of paper. She pitched her voice low, so that only McGonagall heard her.

"When you do massage him, Minerva, particularly when you massage his genitals, he will likely respond, he might even have an emission and that's not only normal, but a very good result in this case. It's the only way to flush the toxins from not just his bloodstream, but the glands where it has settled which is why the massage must be thorough. You need to know, however, the first ten to fifteen emissions he has are likely to be extremely toxic. Use Scourgify immediately and wash your hands and whatever the poison has touched with fresh water and glycerin soap to neutralise any lingering toxin."

"You mean--" Minerva was aghast. She had already made up her mind to nursing Severus, but this...

"If you cannot bring yourself to do this, you'd best find a volunteer. I'd do it myself, but I'm needed here and the Minister is concerned with Severus's safety if he remains at the castle."

McGonagall drew in a breath. "I'll do it. It's just so very personal, Poppy. Perhaps I could persuade Kingsley to allow access to Severus by someone with whom he has been intimate?"

Pomfrey looked at her askance. "What on Earth gave you the idea Severus has ever had a sexual partner?"

Minerva's mouth dropped.

"It's not something he advertises," the mediwitch added, a bit sadly. "I'm probably the only one who is aware of it, but in these circumstances, it's important you know."

McGonagall wasn't certain what shocked her more. "You've had to do this to him before?"

"Of course not!" Pomfrey looked indignant. Her tone of voice made it clear she found the conclusion an obvious one. "He makes all the potions for the Infirmary, Minerva -- more than a few require a brewer who's a virgin, you know."

Minerva stared at the cold, unmoving, gore-bespattered figure of Severus Snape. She had never suspected, and she thought she'd known him well, or at least as well as anyone she had seen grow from a child into a strong, haughty man. One she had treated abominably this last year due to mistaken assumptions. She should have known to trust Albus, who had trusted this man not only with his life, but with his death.

Now someone trustworthy had to nurse Snape until all the Death Eaters had been caught. They couldn't even take him to the castle, because that would reveal his continued existence, so they would have to be Portkeyed from the scene. Intellectually, she knew that, besides Harry Potter, Severus Snape was the most wanted man on their hit list. He would be vulnerable, in extreme danger. He nearly died and was in a fragile state of health. He needed protection and treatment, preferably by someone who cared for him.

That much I can give.

"I didn't know, Poppy," Minerva admitted now. "I'd no idea."

"Well, count your blessings that he's liable to remain unconscious for the next few days. It's once he's awake that you'll have your work cut out for you. He's not a pleasant patient and I can only think he'll resent everything that needs doing."

Poppy turned then, and went back to Severus, intent on ensuring he was stable enough for transport, whilst Minerva turned to receive instructions from Kingsley.

"These," he had said, stepping up as if he had just finished his tasks, handing her a small satchel, "are your documents. Muggle, because you'll be in a Muggle area. There is some Muggle money, as well as a cheque book and necessary identification to an account you can draw from. The house is secure and well-stocked. I'll confer with Madam Pomfrey about what she feels Severus will need until he's recovered, and I will make sure to send it. No one else will know you're there, but the three of us. The house was left to the Ministry by one of our operatives overseas. He's gone now, so you need have no worries about any unexpected guests."

She nodded, glanced at the strange Muggle identification books, passports, she knew. "Are we not staying in country then?"

"Safest out, I'd think. Plus, I do believe Severus deserves a bit of warmth and sun to help him heal. I understand the desert air is very beneficial."

"Desert? Won't we stick out?"

Shacklebolt chuckled. "Hardly. There is a small enclave of expatriates where you are going. You'll fit right in should you choose to mingle."

She nodded, not really caring beyond discovering that their presence would not be an anomaly.

"York?" She frowned at the surnames on their passports.

"Yes. You're husband and wife for the duration. Best that way, as you can't be separated by Muggle authorities in event of emergency."

She put the documents away and secured the satchel onto one shoulder.

"Is there a Floo?"

"There is a fireplace, of sorts, but it's inoperative and closed to the Floo network. There's a mirror in the satchel you can use to contact me, but I'm likely to be tied up for the interim. Use it if it's an emergency."

Minerva considered just how much this man would have on his shoulders and knew that he must trust her immensely to do this task without requiring hand-holding. She nodded, accepting both his words and her duty as she straightened and felt the slight weight of the satchel on her shoulder.

He held up a Muggle style ballpoint pen.

"This is your Portkey. When you and Severus are ready, click the top. Another click will bring you back."

She turned from him to find Poppy gently caressing Severus's face, gently moving lank hair back from his cheek. He was decently covered with the blanket and Pomfrey sighed as she stood back and faced Minerva. She nodded.

"He saved his own life with that bezoar, but you'll have your work cut out for you. Make sure he has plenty of liquid along with the Nutritional Potion, and not just the cocoa. He'll need to keep hydrated, not just for his health, but in order to, um, respond. It's very important whilst he's detoxifying."

Minerva felt herself blush, but asked, "How often can I expect him to respond that way, Poppy? I know men can't always..."

Poppy smiled tiredly. "No worries there. He's only 38, Minerva, and a wizard. Our systems don't age as quickly as Muggles do. He'll be able to at least twice a day, possibly more. Just make sure to work as much out as possible when you do. Better out than in, as the wise old saying goes."

McGonagall felt her blush increase, but she merely nodded. "Thank you, Poppy."

Minerva hugged her old friend briefly, before taking one of Severus's hands in hers and clicking the ballpoint pen.

~*~

The next morning's edition of the Daily Prophet had a picture of a sombre-looking Kingsley Shacklebolt beneath the caption: NEW MINISTER CLARIFIES SECRET ROLE OF HEADMASTER SNAPE

"Severus Snape's death means a great loss to the wizarding community. He was, as you know, a spy for Dumbledore since the first war, and a more loyal servant the greatest wizard of our age could not have asked for. It was Snape he trusted with his life, and, indeed, all our lives, and more importantly, it was Snape that he trusted with his death last year, after he had been injured by an accursed item that belonged to He Who Must Not Be Named."

Minister Shacklebolt stated that whilst Headmaster Snape would, of course, be honoured, that You Know Who did not even leave a body for friends and colleagues to inter.

"Naught but ashes," the Minister indicated sadly. "It is my belief that he sent a minion or minions to incinerate Snape, making sure the man who had spied on him and been discovered, was truly dead."

In other sad news, Minerva McGonagall, the venerable head of Gryffindor house for forty years and seen as the logical successor to Headmaster Snape, has been forced to retire due to medical concerns. She was found collapsed after the battle by Madame Pomfrey, Hogwarts resident Mediwitch.

Pomfrey would not speak directly to this reporter, but did remind the Prophet that the 70 year old McGonagall had taken several hexes two years prior during an altercation at the school, and had a lengthy hospitalisation at that time. She had been seen by several witnesses at the final battle, dodging curses and fighting Death Eaters, dogged and determined, but ultimately, apparently fell victim to one of them.

McGonagall insisted, the Mediwitch declared, on recovering in private, not only injured, but naturally quite distressed over the battle and the loss of so many of her friends and colleagues, not to mention children who had been under her charge. She has requested to be left alone to convalesce.

It is this reporter's opinion that this is the least the wizarding community can do for Minerva McGonagall after so many years of selfless service.

~*~

The unconscious Severus and a slightly anxious Minerva had landed on the floor in a cool, carpeted room. The air smelt vaguely of lemon polish and rain. The view out a large, sliding glass door to one side revealed a light rainstorm. She stood and looked around the single story house.

They had arrived in what looked to be a sitting room, where a large Muggle television predominated. In one corner of the room was a strange, painted metal contraption she soon realised was meant to be a fireplace. There were no logs, however. It appeared to be fuelled by some sort of gas piped into the thing from the side and lit by a sparking device. She frowned at it and turned her attention to the rest of the house.

A rather snug kitchen area could be viewed over a counter, and a small table indicated the dining area just opposite and visible to the sitting room. It was unlike any house she had ever seen.

The door she had assumed led to a bedroom was, in fact, a lavatory with a toilet and taps. Another door led to a closet, and finally, behind the kitchen she found a small hallway that led to yet another room where two large machines that she vaguely recognised as a Muggle clothes washer and dryer stood, next to a large basin with taps, a bench, and oddly, yet another toilet in one corner and a tiny shower stall directly opposite.

Further down the hall she found two more rooms, a master bedroom with bathroom en suite and a guest bedroom.

She headed back to the sitting room and levitated Severus to the master bedroom, gently laying him atop the large bed. There was enough room that she could easily sleep on the other side without touching him, and since she was going to have to care for him pretty much continuously, she decided that might be best.

The bathroom was a pleasant surprise, with a large spa-style tub big enough for two, and an equally large shower stall with a marble bench. The toilet had hand rails by the side, she noted, which would be useful during Severus's convalescence, and the lighting was incrementally adjustable. There was a large window, but it was frosted over for privacy.

She headed back to the bedroom and set aside the satchel Shacklebolt had given her to take out the bag Poppy had placed in her hand after wishing her farewell.

It was full of potions vials and, taking out the parchment with instructions, Minerva looked around and transfigured a rather ugly, modern grandfather clock into a standing chalkboard, a pair of Muggle trainers into a large piece of chalk and an eraser and began setting lines on the board...

~*~

Millicent Bulstrode was met by her father at the gates of the school.

They were not a demonstrative family, for the most part, so she was surprised when he pulled her to him and embraced her tightly as he had the first day she had gone off to school.

"Thank Merlin you're safe," he murmured. She felt her eyes fill, but blinked back the tears to return his embrace.

"I'm fine, Daddy," she whispered, suddenly feeling very much like the little girl she had been at eleven when she'd first gone to Hogwarts, rather than the 18 year old witch she was now, having nearly finished her schooling.

Thanks to recent events, instead of students going home, it seemed as if most of the parents had come to the school. Many had lost their offspring, she knew, and so it was a natural response for parents to want to see their children, although, in the case of many sixth years and all of the seventh year class, they were no longer children. This last year had seen to that in more than in the passing of birthdays and reaching the age of majority.

"We have a lot to talk about," he said as he pulled back and beamed at her. "A lot has changed."

She nodded warily. They fell into step as they headed toward the school. A picnic dinner was being assembled on the lawns, as had become the fashion since the final battle. No one at the school would soon forget that the Great Hall had been an operating theatre... and a morgue.

"Is it true that the headmaster was not loyal to the Dark Lord?"

Millicent pursed her lips. This was a matter of personal discord. She had admired Snape most of her young life. He, like her, had come from a humble background and risen to a lofty, respected position. She had come to develop what she knew Snape thought of as inappropriate feelings for him in her sixth year. His downfall, or as some of her peers felt, his disgrace, had also been the wizarding world's salvation, however. She was no longer sure how she felt, but having learnt of his undying love as it was being indecorously bandied in the Prophet, cloying as the account had been presented, her feelings had been coloured by sympathy for his plight. At the moment, Millicent fell quite decidedly into the Snape-the-hero camp. She did not know, however, into what camp her father currently fell. While he was not a Death Eater, he did business with many of them. It was a dichotomy that had coloured her world most of her life.

She finally nodded slowly. Millicent was surprised, and not a little relieved, to see her father smile and give a decisive nod.

"He was a good man. I'm sorry he was lost, but we can help his memory most by helping clear the name of Slytherin House."

She considered this and found herself wondering what exactly her father had in mind.

~*~

Four hours later, Minerva took her courage, and Severus's genitals, in both hands, and did what needed doing.

She was not a prude, far from it, nor was she ignorant in the ways of the world, but still, this much needed task felt far too personal a job for her to be doing.

She was glad Severus was unconscious. She did not want to think about what she would do or say when he woke.

His skin had been ice cold, however, and her concern over his welfare had pretty much taken her focus as she began vigorously massaging him. The fact that his genitals were also cold had distracted her from her task, at least until they began to lengthen, and stiffen.

Her fingers worked over the veined and velvety skin with great care. His prepuce was extensive and she gently massaged all the way along its length, then worked it back and forth over his long, if slender erection. It slowly gained a rosy colour, which satisfied her, and despite massaging it for several moments, nothing else happened. He'd been spent by Poppy but four hours before, she recalled, so it was possible he did not currently have the wherewithal to expel anything, so she let him go once his skin was warm and glowing.

Her hands were tired, she realised, as were her back and shoulders. It was not at all a sexy or passionate activity, despite its intimacy, something that disturbed her, although she did not care to examine it closely.

She was also hungry.

She marked the chalkboard, used her wand to cleanse her hands, and headed for the house's kitchen, where she found Kingsley was as good as his word. A basket full of potions sat on the counter. Several bars of Honeyduke's Finest Dark chocolate, and two large bars of glycerin soap that smelt pleasantly of rosemary and mint were within, as well as a note from Kingsley saying he hoped they both enjoyed the desert air. Another glance outside revealed more rain and she wondered anew where he'd sent them, but was too tired and busy to be arsed to find out.






Minerva woke to the alarm she had set for the next round of treatments a few hours later and began to work the potions into the unconscious man by use of a transfigured funnel and a bit of magic. She had manoeuvred him into a reclining position on some pillows to let gravity aid her.

He had groaned slightly at one point, startling her, but did not regain consciousness. She could hear his stomach gurgling and wondered if he was a bit dyspeptic. She recalled how infants needed burping after feeding, and, feeling a bit foolish, but willing to see if it would help, she sat nearer and pulled him to rest against her, cradling his neck and head carefully, and rubbing his back with the other hand.

Before very long a loud belch emerged and she smiled. Perhaps, this wasn't so difficult a task, after all.

She laid him back and finished giving him potions, then began massaging his fingers, which were still ice cold. She fretted over them, glad to see they weren't blue, but nonetheless concerned. She wondered if it wouldn't be better to use some sort of lotion or unguent, although Poppy had not indicated it.

Putting his arm down, she rummaged in the bathroom and found, to her delight, a rather large bottle of hand-labelled massage oil. It smelt of spearmint and lavender. She oiled her hands and set to.

This time, when she massaged his genitals, he quietly groaned, and as she worked his prepuce, a clear droplet of fluid welled in his piss slit. She grit her teeth and gently, but firmly stroked him, rubbing his substantial bollocks, which shifted and tightened beneath her touch. Then she heard him. It was enough to make her pause in her ministrations.

"Lily," he murmured, before swelling and twitching in her hands and issuing forth a prodigious amount of semen.

She was not certain what to make of this forthright confirmation of what she had seen in the Pensieve, what Harry had said before Voldemort and the entire field of combatants. She had known of his love, intellectually, but...

The intimacy of the act this time was less troubling to her, especially as she noted the greenish-yellow streaks present within the pearly white, which made it seem far less sexual and far more like extracting foulness from a wound. The poison stank of dark magic and she could feel the heat of it where the streaks had landed on her hands.

Poppy had been right, Minerva thought now decidedly, as she scourgified the mess -- she would definitely be able to tell when the poison had left his system.

She decided to give Severus a sponge bath, rubbing him down with the towel to help dry him and further encourage his circulation. Then she washed up, marked the chalkboard, and set her alarm to get more rest until the next round.

~*~

"Viktor Krum?"

Her father nodded, a smile on his face, but he watched for her reaction, which she was carefully keeping to herself.

She was stunned, truth told, to discover Krum was making enquiries with an eye toward marriage.

The man wasn't bad to look at, she knew. In fact, he had reminded her of a young Snape, thin and big-nosed and oddly graceful despite looking awkward as arse. But he was a world famous Quidditch star, and he was attracted to weedy, bookish types like Granger. Why would he look at her, a heavy-set, sturdy-looking witch from Slavic stock? She was no slouch academically, but she was not in Granger's range.

Maybe, she thought now, that was why he was seeking to marry. Of Slavic stock himself, maybe he sought a like wife, someone he could marry that would be socially appropriate... someone who would understand that he would discreetly fool around on her with some of the more attractive screaming fans that paid to see him play. It wasn't unheard of in many of the society marriages. Her father, she knew, had held some hope that Malfoy or perhaps Zabini would be interested in pairing a son with her. She knew damn well neither of those two boys could be faithful without use of an Unbreakable Vow and any woman who expected otherwise was a fool.

Millicent was no fool. Krum, at least, was not British, and she had not gone to school with him and watched his snot-nosed, bratty hi-jinks at Hogwarts. That was definitely a point in his favour. Perhaps he might even allow that, if he was to be preoccupied with extramarital 'activities', she could as well, so long as she was also discreet.

"He's not bad," she finally said. "I met him my fourth year, during the Triwizard Tournament. He looked like a young Snape."

Her father smiled. "He's also far removed from all this war business, not affiliated with the Death Eaters, a world-class athlete. Whatever he does makes news, even with all the coverage on Potter and the war."

Unspoken, Millicent knew, was the fact that whoever Viktor Krum squired also wound up in the news and, given the public interest in his life, the coverage tended to be slanted in a favourable way.

The fact she found him fanciable was secondary, although it certainly wouldn't hurt.

"Maybe I'll write him then. Do you still have his enquiry?"

Her father's smile broadened as he slipped a hand into his cloak and pulled out a pale lavender envelope of fine vellum and handed it to her.

~*~

When Minerva woke next, it was to a wet bed and she realised, to her annoyance and chagrin, that the unconscious Snape had voided in his sleep. Why hadn't she thought of this fundamental reality? Self-recrimination would have to wait, she decided.

It took a lot of effort to get the bed stripped, only to find the mattress had been soaked. She deep-cleansed it magically, but it would have to air-dry since a drying spell might cause the ticking and possibly the stuffing to shrink, so she set a clean blanket and pillows on the floor and placed Snape atop it and gave him the next round of potions. Leaving him in a reclining position against several pillows, she went to the bathroom and set the tub to filling.

She felt to ensure the water was warm, but not hot, and added a dash of foaming bath crystals which released a heavenly scent of juniper and pine through the room. Then with great care, she levitated him to the bathroom and placed Snape inside the large tub, maintaining a portion of the Levicorpus to help keep him head and shoulders above the water.

Studying him, Minerva looked down with distaste at her own clothes which were urine-stained from the bed and rumpled from having slept in them twice already. She finally gave in to practicality and stripped, stepping into the tub with him and lifting one of his hands, began to massage him.

After the combined bath and massage, she marked the chalkboard and turned to her patient who lay supine on the blanket on the floor, covered only with a towel, and frowned.

Minerva finally opted to put him on the guest bed, tucking him under the blankets and recalling the mess upon waking, waved her wand above his pelvis.

"Empathicum."

She suddenly felt as if her own bladder was nearly full. Discontinuing the spell, she thought for a moment, then transfigured the towel into a long necked jug, gently placing the head of his penis into the mouth of the jug. She touched the tip of her wand to his pelvis.

"Exigo!"

His hips twitched briefly, then he began to urinate. She could see cloudy streaks of venomous green within it, as well, and frowned. She made a mental note to check if he needed voiding next time.

She placed the covers over him, then gathered their dirty things and went to what she thought of as the laundry room, where she set the garments, towels and bedding to wash. She wore the towelling robe she had found in the bathroom and taken a liking to.

The Muggle machines had straightforward illustrations on their respective hatches that she had found easy to comprehend. Beside the machines were bottles of detergent and bleach and something called fabric softener that she was leery of and opted not to use. Instructions were on these bottles, as well as on the small box of something called dryer sheets, and she followed them to the letter. Despite not using the fabric softener, the clothes came out just fine, after both machines rattled, whirred, splashed and otherwise made a lot of rather alarming sounds. The clothes were clean and fresh and dry, which, if truth be told, was all that concerned her.

She supposed now, that she should transfigure a robe for Severus, as well, and possibly find some Muggle clothes for them both. There were some Muggle clothes in the closet that she had seen. She would rummage, she decided, after she had a bite to eat.

~*~

Dear Viktor Krum,

My father informed me that you were asking after my marital status.  Forgive my bluntness, but your
enquiry was blunt, so I hope you can appreciate it in exchange.

I am not married, nor engaged to be.  I had not thought of marrying, or for that matter, of what I had
planned to do beyond assisting my father in his place of business once my formal schooling is over.

I would not be averse to hearing your proposal.  I must sit my NEWTs this week, but afterwards, I will
be free.  You could meet me at Hogsmeade, at the Three Broomsticks, if you like, this Friday afternoon.  

If this day and time does not suit, please let me know what other time might be more convenient.  

Sincerely,

Millicent Bulstrode

Go to Part 2