Next Leg Of The Journey
by
Rating: NC-17, check warnings if you need to know more details than simply "explicit sexual content" is present in this fic.
Pairing: Snape/Hagrid, Albus/Gellert
Word Count: 12,380
Disclaimer: The people & places are Rowling's. The situations and anything you don't recognize are the author's. This fic is an exchange gift written to request and no profit was made. It takes place in the world belonging to JK Rowling, which is merely borrowed for the nonce and remains unspindled, unfolded and unmutilated, though it does get a bit smutty.
Summary: post-DH. Two entirely different men come to a new understanding of each other after the war.
Warnings: highlight between brackets if you prefer story warnings: [contains: Wanking, voyeurism, attempted suicide, first time, rimming, a love bite or two, gratuitous use of Oscar Wilde, and death, but no destruction]
Author's notes: This starts off a bit slow, but then it's meant to. Thanks to my betas, you know who you are.
Merry Smutmas, Vissy!
Hagrid knew he was there well before the presence approached. Later, he would say he should have known, but in the immediate aftermath of war, he was far more concerned with possible rogue Death Eaters or other unsavoury elements.
This was why Severus Snape's first words after his death were rife with the sarcasm for which he had been well known in life.
"Impressive," he had intoned, staring archly at the arrow which quivered from his sternum, having stuck fast to the tree behind him. "Unfortunately for you, I am already dead."
The taciturn man had become a gloomy and irascible spectral figure.
Snape was not, Nearly Headless Nick would later inform any who asked and many who did not, an actual ghost.
He had definitely died with urgent, unfinished business left behind, but he was not truly held to the environs where he had met his demise, nor had he been frightened of death. Indeed, he had welcomed and even courted death for some nineteen years before it actually happened.
So, what held him to his spectral existence? Only Snape could know and he rarely deigned to speak to anyone, save Hagrid.
* * * * * *
"If you are looking for unicorns, there is a small herd to the west of the Acromantula burrow," Snape informed him the day Hagrid returned to his hut, looking discouraged.
"Thanks, but... how did yer know?"
Snape scowled reflexively, glaring at the vegetable patch by the hut where he sat on the steps at the rear of the cabin.
"I saw them as I walked this afternoon." His tone sounded as if he was expecting to be ridiculed for his actions or, perhaps, told that ghosts did not take walks.
Hagrid did neither, merely nodding, then shaking his head. "I meant how'd yer know I was lookin' fer unicorns."
"It is the first day of classes tomorrow, is it not?"
Hagrid blinked, surprised. "Aye."
"You introduce the students to unicorns."
It was all Snape said, but Hagrid remembered it later as he readied for bed. He had not known Snape had watched him before, whilst alive. He had never said anything, but then, the groundskeeper thought with a tired sigh, he rarely had.
* * * * * *
Harry Potter had surprised him with a visit for Hallowe'en, his first return to Hogwarts since the war had ended that summer.
"Luna says she thought she saw Snape near your hut."
Hagrid paused in his pouring of tea to look at Harry speculatively. Harry was his friend and he loved him, but this was not something he wished to discuss.
"Does she?"
Harry nodded, looking at Hagrid expectantly, but his old friend surprised him.
"Ah, well, that Luna lass, she sees a whole slew o' things, she does."
It was all Hagrid would say and Harry did not press.
"Why did you not tell the boy I was on your back steps?"
Hagrid blew out a stream of pipe smoke and sat back against the door, relaxing in the twilight.
"I don' rightly know. Jus' didn't seem righ'."
Snape sat as he usually did, hands folded on knees, leaning forward speculatively.
"Well, I appreciate your discretion. I have no desire to speak to him."
Hagrid nodded.
"Perfesser-"
"I'm not a Professor," Snape replied irritably.
Hagrid considered this, puffing his pipe.
"Headma-"
"Call me Severus. That is all I am."
Hagrid held in the smoke until his lungs ached, then let it go in a slow stream.
"I don' know if I can do tha', but I'll try."
"Ask your question."
"Well...I jus' wanted to know if Harry really saw...well..."
"He was there when I died."
Hagrid nodded, then puffed some more on his pipe.
The sky grew dark and the stars twinkled above before he spoke.
"Thanks fer telling me tha', Severus."
That night Hagrid paused before lifting his nightshirt for a quick wank. He had always done this without thinking, but now he wondered if Snape was still outside, sitting on his rear steps, as he was wont to do, perhaps listening.
After a moment, he decided if Snape was there and became offended he would leave. If Snape was not there, it would not matter.
Thus decided, he lifted his nightshirt and took himself in hand. His technique was, as might be expected, unschooled, but oddly gentle. He handled his cock as he handled hippogriffs and young children, with exceeding care, murmured praise and a firm hand.
"Ah, tha's good."
He was near to coming when the strange thought filled his mind and would not let go. Did ghosts wank? Did they spunk?
Semen fountained, and then poured out, and Hagrid moaned as the image of a spectral Snape wanking filled his mind's eye.
He could not meet Snape's eyes for almost a week, and the two did not share the companionable autumn evenings.
When Snape mentioned it, Hagrid merely said it was too cold out now for sitting around outside in the evening. He spoke apologetically, as if feeling Snape would be upset being reminded that he was a ghost now and no longer felt the weather.
It was some days later when Snape informed him that he had run across a young basilisk hatchling near the Shrieking Shack.
"I would have told you last night, when you might have been able to catch it straight away, but I will not go inside a dwelling without an invitation."
He stalked off, a figure of chill white that faded into the shadows of the forest.
Hagrid wondered where he went at night. It was not until he was nearly asleep that night that he realized what Snape had been telling him.
* * * * * *
"Why don' yer come in, then?"
Snape shot him a dour look, but gave the question an amount of consideration that made Hagrid hide a grin. It was one of the things about Snape that he appreciated. Whilst he berated the students, and, occasionally, his stodgier colleagues, he had never looked down at Hagrid, despite his rustic nature.
He stepped past the threshold of the doorway and looked around. After a moment, he headed unerringly for a chair by the fire.
Hagrid pulled off his scarf and outer coat, hanging them on a hook.
"I was jus' fixin' to make a spot o' tea and some supper. Care to join me? I mean, I know yer don' eat and all, but-"
"That's kind. Thank you. I will."
"So Severus...do yer miss Potions?"
Snape scowled and Hagrid hurried to apologize.
"Sorry. I shouldn't 'ave asked."
"No. It's all right. It is just..." Severus sighed after a moment. "I know what I did and I can recall the art of potion making, but it seems somehow unimportant. I am not filled with the same interest as when living. It is as if I seek something, but I do not know what it is. All else fades in importance."
Hagrid nodded, although, he did not understand.
"So you know abou' Potions still, jus' it's not so interesting anymore?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Oh, well, then, tha's all righ'."
Snape looked to him. "Was there something potion related that you needed assistance with, Rubeus?"
Hagrid shrugged. "I wouldn' wan' ter cause a bother. See, I make me own salves and poultices fer the animals. They don' always work fer me. I'd jus' like ter learn a few potions, things like burn salve an' somethin' ter stop itching from bites and like tha'."
"Ah. Yes. I could do that, but there is one problem."
"I have an old cauldron," Hagrid assured him, pointing to the rafters where two battered cauldrons hung in one corner of the hut.
"Good, but that's not the issue. You have no wand. Despite its nature, potion making requires a wand. There are no incantations, but a wand is the focus of a wizard's magic, and the intent of a wizard directs the magic when making a magical concoction, even if he never actually wields it."
Hagrid nodded, but looked rather crestfallen. The two sat in an uneasy silence for some moments.
"I don't know if my wand would suit you."
Hagrid stared at Snape, stunned.
"Yer wand?"
"It was never gathered when my body was removed from the Shrieking Shack. The aurors assumed a Death Eater or Voldemort himself had taken it, but it was lost during the events that led to my demise. It remains in the Shrieking Shack."
Hagrid continued to stare. After a moment, he spoke, and his voice sounded unaccountably angry. "I'd not take yer wand. It's yer own, even if yer dead now. Wouldn't be fittin'."
"Perhaps it would help to think of it as holding it in trust for me?"
"Severus..." Hagrid looked pained. "Yer faith in me...I hope I'm worth it."
"I am a dead wizard who can no longer use his wand. I am also a teacher with no pupil. You are a living wizard whose wand was taken by mistaken assumptions and whose education was stinted by the same circumstances. You wish to learn. It is clear what our path is."
* * * * * *
"It rolled away as I struggled with Nagini."
"Do you know where it is?"
Snape closed his eyes and then, for the first time since Hagrid had seen his spectral figure, he drifted, floating to a corner of the dingy room where the floorboards were cracked and uneven. He merely stood, not pointing nor looking down.
The floor creaked alarmingly as Hagrid approached. He could see something black underneath a shattered floorboard beneath Snape. He lay down prone, stretching out his arm, and searched the hole in the floor with his fingers. He hissed as splinters drove into his knuckles, but he soon pulled back, rolling free to a more stable area of the floor before standing, Snape's dark wand with its intricately carved handle in a scraped and bleeding hand.
Snape nodded at the wand.
"Take it in your uninjured hand."
Hagrid did.
"The splinter removing charm is '*Eximo Assula*.' The movement involves tapping the wand to the area where the splinters are."
Hagrid tapped the wand to his bleeding knuckles and declared, "*Eximo Assula!*"
He was surprised when the wood worked its way out of his skin and flew away.
"You can repair the damage with 'Episkey.'"
As Hagrid healed his wound, Snape smiled, knowing the half-giant was not even aware he had successfully completed his first lesson.
* * * * * *
"The pleasant and undemanding company is enough," Snape insisted after a few weeks of successful lessons.
Hagrid paused in putting up the small pots of burn salve he had made that afternoon and shook his head. He knew he would never be as a true wizard, using magic instead of taking care of things without, but just having the use of a wand, the opportunity to finally learn...it was more than his mind could encompass. It made him feel warmly disposed to the taciturn Snape.
"No. I'll not be taking yer time and using yer wand 'thout givin' yer something in return."
Snape shook his head.
"I have no real needs. I appreciate your companionship."
"There mus' be somethin'."
He considered this, seated at the chair by the fireplace that had become his default when inside Hagrid's hut. He still did not just enter or leave without asking or informing Hagrid, although he could. He also did not speak of the perpetual need within him since his return; the need for answers to questions for which he did not even have words. He suspected it was something he had to discover for himself.
"I do miss reading," he finally admitted.
"Books? I got a few," Hagrid looked to one of his shelves and found some rather mildewed volumes on animal husbandry. He grimaced. "I could borrow some from the library, though Madam Pince is a righ' tyrant 'bout me going in there. She says I make a ruckus."
Snape nodded.
"I understand. It is all right. Truly it is, Rubeus."
Hagrid frowned, but finally nodded.
* * * * * *
Snape never accompanied him to Hogsmeade. Hagrid had never asked him why. He was used to Severus's reticent nature by now and he no longer considered whether Snape was his friend, but rather kept himself from wondering what exactly Snape was becoming to him. When he thought of it at all, the words 'teacher' and 'companion' both sprang to mind, and that was enough for him.
Still, he almost wished he had accompanied him this day, as he looked at the many stacks of dusty tomes in the used bookstore. What would Snape like? Potions books? Or did he already know about those? He had read the Prophet, Hagrid knew, but aside from that, he had no idea what Severus Snape might fancy reading.
"May I be of assistance?"
The creaky, wheezing old voice nearly made Hagrid upset a pile of tottering books about plants that were stacked to the rafters.
"Oh, er, I was jus' lookin' fer some books fer a friend. I'm not sure wha' he likes ter read, see? An' I don' have a lot o' money, so-"
"I've just the thing," wheezed the elderly shopkeeper. He made his way unerringly through precarious stacks to a pair of boxes near the rear of the shop. "Been holding onto these for weeks now. Don't want to file 'em with the rest, single editions, and they don't fit in any of the other stacks. Part of an estate sale. Mixed Wizard volumes and Muggle books."
Hagrid peered inside one box and made a face.
"Tha's Skeeter's junk rag, tha' is!"
"Oh, aye. Popular book, but I won't sell it. In fact, if you take these boxes off my hands, I'd be grateful, and can even continue to say in all honesty that I never sold a copy of that wretched woman's rubbish."
Hagrid hesitated, but this was a boon and he was not a fool.
"I appreciate this."
"Don't mention it. Your friend is lucky and I have more floor space now."
"Shadow Life - The Gay Days & Hard Times Of An Extraordinary, Enigmatic Headmaster?"
"Skeeter's junk rag."
"Indeed, but it might be worth a read." A glimmer of interest, that strange sense that some of his answers might be here, had been sparked by the book for some odd reason. "Shall we start with this one?"
"Yer jokin'!"
Snape looked at Hagrid.
"I always found it useful to know what people were saying about my allies, as well as my enemies."
* * * * * *
Snape could not turn the pages, so the two men found themselves sitting across from each other at the table that evening, with the open book before Severus, and Rubeus waiting to turn the page when asked.
They met at Godric's Hollow, the birthplace of one of the
very founders of our world, near the not so humble home where
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was born.
One boy had long, flaming red hair, fashionable in its day,
the other had curly locks of gold. Both had piercing and merry
blue eyes.
The spark was instantaneous and all too soon, Albus and his
Gellert were inseparable. Who could have guessed the spark of
compatibility would lead to the flames of desire?
"Rubbish."
"A bit hackneyed, I admit, but not libelous." Snape did not tell him he had some small hope the book might provide answers. Instead, he merely said, "I find it interesting."
"Yer don't believe a word o' tha'?"
"Albus was no saint. He was just a man, Rubeus. A man with the same needs as any other man."
"Aye, but she's makin' 'im out to be...some sort of poofter!"
Severus said nothing, merely sat back from the volume and stared pointedly across the cabin.
"Severus?"
"I expect then, since you are uncomfortable with sexually ambiguous persons, that you will wish to sever our association. Perhaps I should leave now."
Hagrid merely stared for a long moment and then reddened.
"I didn' say tha'. Right fine pig o' things I'd make if I kicked yer out fer tha'. Can't be kicking me own self out now, can I?"
Severus looked over at this, startled.
Hagrid looked unhappy.
"I didn' mean 't'were a bad thing, bein' queer. Wha' with so many of us tryin' thin's out from both sides an' all. Jus' tha' I don' believe Albus Dumbledore was like tha'."
"Because it makes him human?"
"No, because it changes things, it does. Things I'd rather not be thinkin' 'bout." Hagrid looked thunderous, then he visibly calmed himself. "I don' wan' ter wonder 'bout things. 'specially if them things worked out jus' fine."
Snape frowned at this, but did not venture any questions. Hagrid sat across from him, looking uncomfortable. Severus finally sighed.
"Shall I keep reading then?"
"Go on. Migh' as well hear what that ruddy witch has been sayin' ter ever'one else."
Questions of alchemy, of arithmantic calculations and the
function of divination in the Wizarding World, soon led to
the discovery of alternate charms the two healthy, young and
curious boys would choose to accomplish.
The first such diversion took place beneath the starry
summer skies, as both boys shared their first of what would
be many sessions of sucking on the pipe.
Gellert led, because, per all accounts, Albus was his avid
follower. The hot summer nights grew far more heated than
mere weather could account for.
In this, as in all things, Albus was a quick study. Too
soon he bypassed his teacher and Gellert was hard pressed
to keep it up.
"Good lord."
"Wha'?"
Snape looked pained.
"How she manages to write so with that many double entendres is beyond me. A more skillful, yet blatant, bit of trashy character-assassination I've yet to read."
"Wha's double on tonder?"
"It means she puts more than one meaning behind her words. In this case, she has insinuated that Albus and Gellert's affair began as a natural adjunct to their studies, and that their first homosexual encounter involved oral sex."
"Yer mean-"
"And she indicates that Albus was better at it than Gellert."
Hagrid looked a bit green. Snape took pity on him and continued reading, but avoided making any further parenthetical remarks for the evening.
* * * * * *
"I was not aware you were homosexual," Snape said conversationally one evening as he watched Hagrid cooking at his stove. It was several days since the topic had first cropped up.
"Aye, well." Hagrid shrugged, flushing a bit. "I'm not so much tha' as jus' not being picky 'bout partners. Man my size can' get picky or else he'll never get laid."
Snape nodded. "I understand only too well."
Hagrid turned, looking surprised. "Bu' yer normal sized."
"Yes, but a man with my looks can't get picky or else he'll never get laid."
"Ain't a thin' wrong with yer looks, Severus."
"This is not a test of friendship, Rubeus. You needn't lie to spare my feelings."
"'T'ain't lying an' I'll tar the man what says so!"
Snape studied Hagrid's fierce expression for several moments, and then oddly, a hint of a smile curved his lips.
"I suppose it's a good thing I'm already dead, then, is it not?"
* * * * * *
This next account would seem all too fantastical were it not for
an eyewitness to a key moment between the two randy young men
that heated summer. What follows is in his own words, which
have been edited for language, but not content.
*I watched them all that summer. I was worried about Albus,
having lost his parents, and wanted to make sure he'd be all
right. So, at first, I was glad he had made a new friend.
Then I saw what they were up to when they thought no one
could see them. Always touching each other, hugging, even
cuddling. One day, I saw them kissing. Not a friendly kiss,
no, but mouths pressed so tight I thought sure they'd bruise.
Their bodies were pressed tight together, too, and I'm sure
I saw hands roaming where good boys hands oughtn't to roam.
It filled me with disgust, and by this point, I thought I'd
go let Gellert's Aunt Bathilda know what sort of trouble he
was getting into.
I still believe that Grindelwald put a spell on me, because I
couldn't move from the spot, even as filled with disgust as
I was. I was forced to watch as they undressed, the pair of
them, and they slunk down atop their robes, and I saw-oh, it
was awful!-I saw that evil, golden-locked snake buggering
Albus Dumbledore.
He must have had him under a spell, too, because Albus didn't
even try to escape. He lay back and let him, meek as a lamb,
and he even begged him for more. Albus Dumbledore, crying out
to be buggered, imagine that. Well, that's clear enough the
foul boy bewitched him to that state. The Albus I knew, would
never let someone bugger him, and certainly wouldn't cry out
asking for more.
*
Hagrid sat up, looking at Snape who had a sour expression.
"Is that it?"
"I do not wish to read any further."
Hagrid nodded sagely. "Good idea. It's upsettin' it is, readin' all tha' 'bout Dumbledore."
Snape merely looked morose and he did not react when Hagrid took the book from in front of him and heaved it in the fire. After a few moments, the half-giant nodded satisfaction.
"Least it burnt well." When Snape said nothing, Hagrid ventured, "We coul' read somethin' else."
This seemed to rouse him, but he merely shook his head. "Not tonight. I've lost my taste for it."
Hagrid nodded again. "Tha's fine. We can jus' set and watch the fire. 's a good night fer it."
Both men sat for hours, grateful for the peace of undemanding companionship if not peace from their thoughts. Hagrid found peace as his thoughts turned to more prosaic issues. Snape could not find peace, not since his return. However, the sense of constant yearning for something he did not know nor even understand had eased. It was enough for now.
* * * * * *
That night, Hagrid dreamt of Snape. He dreamt, not of the ghost, but of the strong and vital man he used to be.
Severus was humping away on top of him, long, thick cock rubbing along his backside, filling Hagrid with desire.
Hagrid woke, hard as iron, with a finger working its way into his backside, calling out Snape's name.
As he stopped moving and tried to catch his breath, Snape appeared in the doorway, upper torso only looking into the cabin hesitantly.
"I heard you call for me. Is everything all right?"
Hagrid blushed, mortified. The bedclothes were hugely tented and one fist was knotted in his pillow, the other was twisted up behind him. It could not be more clear what he had been doing if he had been atop his bedcovers stark naked!
Snape paused, blinking, then looked away.
"I'm very sorry."
He pulled his head back, disappearing without a sound.
Hagrid groaned and buried his head in his pillow.
* * * * * *
To his chagrin, Severus did not appear for several days-long enough for Hagrid to make a pilgrimage to the Shrieking Shack.
He found him in a rather claustrophobic tunnel beneath the shack.
"Sev?"
"I nearly died here."
Hagrid frowned, wondering if it was possible for ghosts to go mad.
"I was sixteen. Did you know?"
He shook his head, putting his lantern down and sitting on a tree root, watching Severus who merely stared at a spot on the tunnel floor.
"Of course not. Albus made sure his secrets were kept. What did the life, the well-being of a penniless boy, a Slytherin, matter in the scheme of things?"
"He weren' like tha'."
"Remus Lupin almost killed me. If it hadn't been for James bloody Potter realizing that Black's actions could get them all in trouble, perhaps expelled, he would have. I'd have died at sixteen, mauled by a werewolf, perhaps eaten."
"But yer didn'."
"No. Black and I got fifty points taken from our respective houses for being out after curfew without justifiable reason. However, James Potter gained 100 points for Gryffindor for coming to the aid of a fellow student in peril. Moreover, I gained a life debt I was never able to repay. No matter how many times I saved that boy, I could feel the onus upon me still. It was not until Albus told me the truth, told me how the boy was supposed to be sacrificed, that I realized why. I could not repay the life debt because I would be the one taking Harry Potter's life. And I did."
"But he didn' die."
"No. However, someone had to in his place. So here we are."
Severus finally looked up. He looked haggard, for a ghost.
"I died here. Not in this tunnel, but in that room above. It always comes back to this place, where I gained a life debt and had to repay it."
Hagrid frowned.
"Severus. Come with me to the cabin. I fancy hearin' you read somethin'."
Snape did not agree nor disagree, but he nodded and followed Hagrid and that was enough for now.
* * * * * *
Hagrid discovered he loved the sound of Snape's voice.
After he finished a rather fanciful story about a cat and its owner, which Hagrid had chosen thanks to the picture on the cover, Snape was given the next choice of what to read. He chose a small volume of poems. He read at least one poem each night, then they would discuss its meaning.
Particularly well suited to poetry, Severus's voice, the crackle of the fire and the words themselves made Hagrid's humble cabin seem almost sacred.
*Within this restless, hurried, modern world
We took our hearts' full pleasure-You and I,
And now the white sails of our ship are furled,
And spent the lading of our argosy.
Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan,
For very weeping is my gladness fled,
Sorrow hath paled my lip's vermilion,
And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed.
But all this crowded life has been to thee
No more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spell
Of viols, or the music of the sea
That sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell.* [1]
"Wha's an argosy?"
"A merchant ship, laden with goods."
"Sounds righ' sad, tha'."
"I have always contended it was less a poem than a lament."
Hagrid considered this uncertainly. "Was the feller wha' wrote it, a sad feller?"
"Sometimes. He was a famous Irish Muggle. He was sent to prison for specious reasons. The Muggles had made being homosexual a crime at the time and he was found guilty of it, although, he was a married man with two children. He lost everything. When he got out of prison, he died a few years later, a sick, penniless man."
"Tha's awful."
"Yes," Snape sighed, then met Hagrid's eyes, a meaningful expression in his own. "But his words and his story live on whilst those who pilloried and imprisoned him have been forgotten."
* * * * * *
Hagrid no longer grew concerned over the tenor of his dreams. Snape was increasingly featuring in them.
He tried to not cry out, but it sometimes could not be helped.
Once, after a particularly vivid and erotic dream, he thought he saw a flash of something white near his door when he awoke, but once he had blinked the sleep from his eyes it was gone.
He wondered now if Snape stayed near his cabin at night. The thought did not disturb him as once it might.
* * * * * *
He was a ghost, but he had eyes and he remembered what it was like to be alive. He knew when Hagrid was having erotic dreams. It did not disturb him.
His own erotic dreams had been impossibilities, with no hope of fulfillment. They had left him feeling nothing of the fevered rush, only bitter despair. He had been glad beyond reckoning for the few peaceful nights he had ever experienced that knew no terror or despair.
Now he was bemused by Hagrid's dreams. He had never considered the half-giant's feelings whilst living. It was odd that he had so much time to him now that he could devote whole nights to his considerations.
He wondered, now, what Albus would make of his thoughts.
* * * * * *
"Dennis?"
The slight burr to the voice identified its owner. He turned, feeling disappointment and regret mingled with an abiding fondness.
"Severus!"
"Minerva."
His erstwhile colleague had one hand up to her mouth, the other over her heart.
"Oh, I thought you were the Creevey boy. He's been a concern." Her eyes remained wide behind her spectacles as she stared at him. "Oh, Severus...you gave me a fright."
"Have I changed so much?"
"Not at all," she replied staunchly. "It is just that a couple of students claimed they saw your fetch near the Shrieking Shack, but it was nearly All Hallows Eve at the time and I took it as fancifulness."
Snape considered this, surprised. "No one else has spoken of me?"
She shook her head, still gaping. "Oh, lad...why have you not come sooner?"
Snape scowled reflexively. "I avoid places where I am not welcome, Minerva. Surely you and the other staff, as well as members of the Order, remember."
She recoiled slightly, and then stood straighter, nodding. "Yes, that was due us. Now, since you're here-was there something you needed?"
"I had hoped to speak to Albus."
She nodded. "Go on up. I shan't disturb you."
He headed for the staircase when a disturbing sensation of warmth and the steady and unnerving pulse of a heartbeat seemed to rush through him, stemming from his shoulder where she had dared to lightly touch him. He whirled, glaring, but her expression cut his diatribe off before it had even begun.
"Severus. Please don't be a stranger. You are always welcome here."
She turned and left before he could decide how to respond, so instead he turned and headed up the spiral staircase.
"I had wondered why your portrait never appeared here, despite young Harry stating he had witnessed your death," were Dumbledore's first words. "He's planning on commissioning one, you know."
"It won't be me."
"If you would make yourself available, I'm certain he would be willing to speak with you about it. He won't want to go against your wishes."
"I am dead, Albus, it scarcely matters. I came to speak with you of other things."
Dumbledore nodded and looked rather sad. "Even in death, my friend, you have not lost your sense of focus. I think you will find it does matter, but I concede to your desire for answers since I am so glad to see you, even in this guise. What did you need to know?"
"I confess myself curious as to how much of Skeeter's recent work is fiction."
"As always, there are truths and then there are truths. She chose to embellish what needed no embellishment and to trust to the words of someone whose feelings for me blinded him to both faults and virtues."
"Elphias Doge."
Albus lifted a brow in astonished admiration.
"You always had a good mind for mysteries and puzzles, Severus."
"It had the sound of a jilted paramour and, by all accounts, you and he were inseparable through school."
Albus nodded sadly. "Yes. He never did forget me, it seems."
Severus's tone was clipped and dry as dust. "One does not easily forget a first love, no matter how much time passes by."
Dumbledore looked even sadder. "Yes. But tell me, my boy-why the sudden need to know about my history?"
Severus frowned. "Honestly, Albus, I cannot say. I only know that the need grew until I found myself here. If it disturbs you, you needn't answer."
"I do not mind answering you, even to terribly personal questions; you have earned the answers. I just wonder as to why you have the questions. Perhaps it has something to do why you are not comfortably crossed over," Albus said gently. "As well as why you are not a proper ghost."
"So, I am an improper one?"
"A true ghost dies with important things left undone, which is true for you, I'm afraid, but also, a true ghost fears death and so refutes the crossing and remains trapped, but cognizant of the mortal plane. You, my dear boy, were not in the least afraid of dying. In fact, I know there were times you actively sought it and I feared for you."
Snape sighed. "Whether I am a proper ghost or not, this existence is all I know. I do not know why I am here, merely that I am."
Albus sighed, as well, but merely replied, "I have a feeling, Severus-and wholeheartedly hope that it is a true one!-when you find the answers to the questions which disturb you that you will find you can cross over fully."
He watched Severus nod, then made a mental note to speak to young Harry before the boy commissioned Severus's painting in earnest. Some things should not be tampered with when it came to magical beings.
* * * * * *
"I don' see why we had to come here so late an' all."
"Perhaps, because I do not wish to make my presence known to anyone."
Hagrid paused, looking at him.
"So why'd yer come to me, then?"
The dark eyes glimmered strangely in the dim castle hallway.
"Perhaps, I was more certain of your welcome." Severus's gaze was even. "You never told anyone of my presence."
Hagrid shrugged, feeling oddly moved.
"I fel' you'd say if you wanted others ter know. Yer never did, so I never said."
"Thank you for that."
It was all Severus said before he moved on down the hall, but his words warmed Hagrid nonetheless.
Soon, they were in a rarely used corridor on the sixth floor, near the Ravenclaw tower.
"There's naugh' bu' old desks an' storage here, Sev."
"As well as something that might provide answers."
He moved to a doorway and drifted through it. Hagrid opened the door and came after him.
"It is there, beneath the tarp."
Hagrid approached the large covered object uncertainly.
"It won't hurt you, Rubeus. It's merely a mirror."
"Dumbledore always said mirrors had more magic hidden than they showed."
"Pray take the cover off. I wish to see it."
Snape was rapt. His conversation with Albus had been less than satisfactory and this was the only way he knew of that might provide answers. The need for them burned within him just as strongly as ever and yet he did not know why, merely that they did.
Hagrid did as he was bid, standing off to the side, not looking at the mirror's surface.
*I wish to see the truth of Albus and Gellert,* Snape thought fervently and for a brief moment, he looked on himself as he was now, a creature of feathery light, translucent and fey. Then the mirror image changed and he watched, engrossed, as history played out for him...
~~~~~
~~~~~
The teenaged Dumbledore looked stooped with age, in a way he had never looked even when he had actually grown old, grief sat on him so heavily. It must be, Snape thought, not long after his parents' untimely deaths.
Albus had nearly walked into someone on the street, so distracted was he. The sun shone on golden curls, blue eyes twinkled at him merrily, but the other boy's face fell as he noted the expression on Albus's face.
There was no sound, but he could tell Albus was charmed by Gellert, who looked at Dumbledore appraisingly. His expression made it clear he found Albus quite attractive. The red-haired, teenaged Albus seemed disarmingly shy.
The mirror showed him a blur of scenes between the two, laughing, playing chess, eating chocolate frogs, and daring each other to eat Bertie Botts Beans. Severus felt as if he could not quite breathe, even though he no longer breathed at all.
Then it happened. The two were resting on a slope by a pond, nude and damp, clearly having been swimming and now watching the sunset, when Gellert reached over and touched Albus's face with a gentle finger. Albus turned to him and then they were kissing, testing, tasting, teasing, one atop of the other, undulating, hands caressing and fondling, lips and tongues and teeth seeking and finding.
Two hard cocks pressed together and darkness fell over the two boys who were soon to become men.
The scene shifted to one of Albus sneaking in through Gellert's window, perhaps later that night or on some other night. Gellert swiftly undressed them with his wand, Albus gazing on him in a way Severus had never seen before. Snape hissed.
Suddenly, a harsh and heated pain shot through him, along with the oddly magnified sound of the rapid-fire pulse of a very large heart beating. It seemed to pass through him in waves, but not before he had seen the two lovers entwined together in the mirror, Gellert writhing beneath Albus, arching up into his thrusts. Snape moaned.
The last thing he saw, before Hagrid gave up his attempt to move him and turned the mirror instead, was Albus on his hands and knees, pushing his arse back into the pale and heavy cock that Gellert was thrusting into him.
~~~~~
~~~~~
When he heard Snape's hiss of breath, Hagrid inadvertently tried to push him, but his hand shot straight through his torso. So, he pushed hard on one side of the mirror's heavy wood frame, instead, forcing Snape out of whatever vision in which he was caught. He could hear the pained sound he made as the mirror's surface shifted, and then Rubeus saw the mirror as he bent to fetch the tarp and replace it...and became rapt.
~~~~~
~~~~~
Severus knelt at his feet, one hand holding his heavy cock as his tongue flicked lightly over the head...
...Hagrid thrust up, up, forcing himself deeper into Severus's straining body...
...and he was bent over on his bed, his large, round, hairy arse pointed to the ceiling, heavy bollocks jiggling as Severus's own bollocks slapped against them whilst he thrust his long, red cock within...
~~~~~
~~~~~
"Rubeus!"
Hagrid blinked, then quickly turned away from the mirror, refusing to look at its surface or to meet Snape's eyes. He finished retrieving the tarp and threw it haphazardly over the mirror, scowling.
"We'd bes' get back," was all he said before exiting the room with a sour look of disapproval on his face.
* * * * * *
They did not speak of the mirror, nor what either had seen, although Snape found the intensity of his desire for answers now seemed to burn him, *pain* him, in a way he had never felt before in life.
It reflected in the fervent way he read that night.
*To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,
Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?-
Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
Scrawled over on some boyish holiday
With idle songs for pipe and virelay
Which do but mar the secret of the whole.
Surely there was a time I might have trod
The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance
Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God:
Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod
I did but touch the honey of romance-
And must I lose a soul's inheritance?* [2]
Hagrid could not help it. Since he had seen the visions, they would not leave his head, and hearing Snape's lush, deep tones as he recited poetry made his cock hard as iron. Worse, he was not entirely certain Snape could not see it from his vantage point by the fire.
They no longer had to sit together to read since Snape had recalled a useful spell from his NEWTs days, which he had taught Hagrid. It allowed the pages of a book to be turned with a spoken word, and held the book open. So Severus would easily see his condition if he but glanced over from his chair.
"What's a virelay?" Hagrid asked, hoping to distract Snape and his too observant eyes.
"It's a form of verse. The poem is referring to songs created for the pipe and that specific form of verse."
"Oh." Hagrid fought to keep from squirming, feeling sweat begin to bead on his neck.
"It doesn't have to mean anything more than needing to empty your bladder, Rubeus," Snape said kindly.
"Yeh, righ'."
Hagrid's face burned, but he merely nodded his thanks and rushed out the door, forgoing his coat and heedless of the cold, heading for his privy. It was no one's business what he did in there, whether it was emptying his bladder or his bollocks.
* * * * * *
Ghosts could not knock, so usually Snape stuck his head in the door to assess the situation and ask if he could enter. He knew he was always assured of a welcome, but he was conscious of propriety, even in his current circumstances, perhaps, *especially* due to those selfsame circumstances.
Therefore, he stuck his head in, preparatory to asking if he could step fully inside...and froze.
Hagrid was bathing.
Snape could say nothing at all as he watched the huge man carefully pour a flagon of steaming water down his strong, soapy shoulders.
The water traveled along thick, corded muscle, a barrel chest, a stout belly, a massive and pendulous prick and set of bollocks, heavily muscled thighs, and down past a pair of solid calves to join the water in the squat wooden tub he stood within.
The water he dipped from a cask on his table. It had wisps of steam rising from it. He turned and Snape swallowed as he saw Hagrid's huge, muscled back and large, rounded buttocks. There was little of him that did not have hair, but to Severus, who only had hair on his head and at groin and oxthers, this was an intriguing novelty. It seemed daringly masculine, not to mention more than a little exciting.
Severus discovered that he did, indeed, possess desire as a ghost. However, he also held the bitter knowledge he could do, about it, nothing at all.
* * * * * *
"Wha's tha' one yer not readin'?" Hagrid asked a few days later, easily noting, thanks to the verbal spell, when Snape skipped over a page.
Snape paused and then said in an expressionless voice, "Requiescat." [3]
Hagrid nodded, but asked nothing else, continuing to eat his supper. He was happy enough to listen to Severus, regardless of what he chose to read.
Still, he sought and found the poem and read it as soon as Snape left. Fortunately, it was not one of the difficult ones.
It recalled to him images of a young, serious student with black hair and black eyes that had beheld nothing but one particular red-haired girl. He had noticed the two when they arrived on the Hogwarts Express as First years, for they had been as close as Harry and Ron had been and as Harry and Hermione had become. Not all childhood friends stay close, though, and when, at the start of Sixth Year, the tall and lanky youth with black hair had gotten off the train alone and the radiant auburn-haired girl had accompanied her housemates, he had given it no more thought until now.
Snape had drifted to the rear of the cabin and sat on the steps, as he was wont to do most evenings.
The moon was full and snow swathed the grounds, but such a night held no terror for Snape. He was already dead, what could a werewolf or a vampire or mere weather do?
He took to counting stars. It was something he remembered from childhood, something he had done to please Lily Evans. She had lain on the grass once, although, it had been a warm summer night and not mid-winter, and she had leaned her head against his shoulder and counted stars.
Fourteen-year-old Severus Snape had lain there in terror, hoping she would not look down and notice his hugely bulging crotch. Wet dreams and unbidden erections had begun to visit him that spring, following a growth surge that had gained him a few inches in height as well as in scrotal circumference. It had been embarrassing and worrisome; he had not dared to visit Madam Pomfrey to ask why his bollocks were growing and his penis was not. He had been certain it was some sort of hex, and nearly reported it to Slughorn, but fortunately, he overheard one of the fifth years grousing about how his balls had grown enormous months before his willy had caught up to the rest of him.
By that summer, Severus's willy had more than caught up to his bollocks. It had not only grown, but had begun demanding attention several times a day. He diligently provided it, but despite having tossed off before heading out to meet Lily by their favourite spot by the river, his prick nonetheless had stood up to demand more, preferably from her.
He sighed now, recalling how the mere thought of having Lily touch him could make him spunk at that age. That had not changed with the passing of time, and even after she was gone, in his dreams he had lost count how many times her gentle hands had given him ease...and how many times he had woken, wet and tormented with guilt. In reality, she had never done more than kiss him, once, and even that had been ruined by the interference of her sister.
He growled now, irritated with his train of thought. It was foolish and fruitless. She was gone and so was he.
No doubt, she was resting peacefully, surrounded by her loved ones. He had no loved ones. The only person he had ever loved was her, and even his ghost knew the travesty it would be if he had passed over properly expecting to see Lily when she had reproached him...when he had been responsible for her death.
The burning sensation grew within him, a gnawing sense of unfulfillment that plagued and tortured him, and Snape threw his head back and screamed. Then he remembered where he was and rushed off into the night, ashamed. He was selfish, even in death. Hagrid had been a kind and constant companion and did not deserve to have his sleep disturbed.
His own feelings did not matter, after all. What use did a ghost have for feelings?
"The werewolves were loud las' night. I swear I heard one howl righ' out back."
"Indeed."
"Didn' see any, did yer?"
Snape shook his head truthfully. He had wandered to Dumbledore's tomb and sat within it for the rest of the night, surrounding himself with cold stone and staring on what had become of his mentor. His own body must look like this.
He could readily find out; his own tomb was next to Albus's, but he did not move again until he heard the sound of children laughing from outside. Then he cautiously avoided them as he made his way back to the edges of the forest, toward the warm, cozy hut where a curl of smoke rose from the chimney and he was always sure of his welcome.
*My heart is as some famine-murdered land,
Whence all good things have perished utterly,
And well I know my soul in Hell must lie
If I this night before God's throne should stand.
"He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase,
Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name
From morn to noon on Carmel's smitten height."
Nay, peace, I shall behold before the night,
The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame,
The wounded hands, the weary human face.* [4]
Hagrid remained silent, absorbing the moving words and nodding his head thoughtfully, when he suddenly realized that Snape was quietly weeping.
Startled, he was unsure of what to do. He could not hold Severus, nor could he pat his back or stroke his hair. Words were not his strong suit.
"Sev-"
"I am not fit company tonight," Snape replied in a dull voice, quite unlike the passion-filled reading he had just given. "I should go."
"If yer wan'," Hagrid replied casually, although he was worried. His friend had never looked more like a ghost than he did now, a nearly transparent figure. "I'd welcome the company, though, fit or no'. The place is righ' spooky when it's windy out and yer not here, Sev."
Severus stilled and Rubeus wondered if he had said the wrong thing, but then Snape snorted and began to softly laugh. Hagrid had never seen him laugh so in life and he could not help but smile in response.
"Sp-spooky!" Snape blurted, and suddenly Hagrid realized what he had said.
"I shouldn' 'ave said tha'."
"Oh, Rubeus...never ever change." Snape gazed at him fondly.
Hagrid nodded, staring in wonderment at the spectre of Snape broadly smiling. The sight made him feel as if something in his chest had fallen...only to land in his groin, which tightened now and began to grow warm. He swallowed.
"I been meanin' ter ask. Where do yer go? At nigh', I mean."
Severus looked wistful. "Nowhere. Everywhere. Sometimes I just sit on your rear stoop. There is nothing for it, as there is nothing I can do, and while the Forbidden Forest holds no terrors for a ghost, there are only so many times I wish to wander the woods."
"Yer welcome to stay if yer wan'. If yer tell me which one, I could leave a book ou' so's yer could read."
Snape was startled.
"Oh, that's all right. I wouldn't wish to intrude." He was remembering now the one night that he had rushed to answer his friend's call only to catch him in a private moment. He was glad ghosts could not blush. Then suddenly something occurred to him that had not occurred before and he froze.
"Yer not intrudin'. It's keepin' me company, is all," Hagrid insisted, not noticing his sudden introspection as he got up to take his dish to the sink.
Snape nodded, still distracted. He abruptly wished to know why Hagrid had called his name out during such a moment, but he did not dare ask. What could he do, after all, no matter what the answer was?
* * * * * *
It was the winter hols, and Snape had stuck his head in for his customary inquiry when he noted Hagrid had company. He nearly pulled back and left, but Hagrid saw him and motioned for him to enter.
"Severus! We got a visitor. Harry here would like ter have a word."
"I was a bit surprised when the Headmaster told me I shouldn't commission a painting of you. He didn't want to say, except that I needed to know why."
"I see your curious nature remains intact."
Harry frowned. "Actually, I was disturbed by his request, just as much as I was disturbed to discover your portrait never appeared at the castle. In my opinion, you and your good deeds deserve to be remembered, Professor. So it's not just my being nosy, you see. I was glad to hear you were hanging around at all, and really glad when Hagrid told me you've been keeping him company. He's the first friend I ever made."
Snape said nothing, fighting a reflexive scowl. The boy often caused that reaction in him.
"I never did thank you," Harry added.
Snape sighed.
"It is not necessary. The fact Voldemort is gone, and that you are in one discernable piece, is quite enough."
"Not to me. You..." The boy suddenly looked alarmingly dewy-eyed and Snape moved back without thinking. Harry smiled wistfully. "You deserved more than you got, Severus Snape. In my opinion."
Severus was not sure what to say. With Hagrid's presence, he was not as inclined to be sardonic. In addition, the boy meant well, and for once, he was sure of it.
"Perhaps, I got what I deserved," was all he managed to come up with to say.
"Well, if there's anything I can ever do, and I mean that, please, just send word. I'll do it," Harry promised.
Snape merely nodded.
* * * * * *
"I told no one else, and I trust Harry's discretion."
"That makes one of us."
"If the boy had been a blabbermouth, Severus, this war would not have ended successfully. He was the keeper of many secrets, some deadly. He even kept yours until his death."
Snape eyed Dumbledore with a peevish expression.
"Considering he went to his death immediately after viewing them-"
"-Ah, but the principle holds. Does it not?" Albus smiled wryly.
"Nevertheless, I need no public memorial. Please promise me right here and now that you will not permit a statue or portrait of me on the grounds of this castle."
"Done."
Severus frowned, but his old mentor held a serious expression and he finally shrugged mentally and relented enough to ask after his old house and its myriad students.
* * * * * *
It was early March when the war took its last casualty.
Severus went searching the opposite shore of the lake for a Mackled Malaclaw that Hagrid could demonstrate to his fourth year class. Hagrid was searching the near shore when he heard an odd noise from behind a tree ahead in the dusk.
Dennis Creevey abruptly stepped out onto the ice at the shoreline, approaching the thinning edge. Hagrid froze. The boy had been a problem all year, demonstrating recklessness and misery that none could seem to alleviate.
"Wait you! Wha' are yer doin'?"
The Creevey boy turned and he caught a glimpse of the tear tracks on his face and the crumpled paper he held in one hand. It was all Hagrid saw before the boy slipped...and fell through the ice.
Severus heard Hagrid's call and began to hurry across, just in time to see the boy fall.
"I'll fetch help," he said, drifting off toward the castle.
Hagrid did not wait, putting down his crossbow and stripping off his belt, quiver, and greatcoat before hurling himself after the boy.
The water was freezing and he knew he only had a slim chance of finding and retrieving the boy before one of them froze, but he had greater bulk and could tolerate cold better.
The water was dim, though, and murky. He pulled out Snape's wand and tried to cast Lumos. To his surprise, it worked, but it also meant one hand was occupied. After a moment, he stuck the wand between his teeth, and forced himself to move down through the water until he could see the boy, who was caught in some weeds near a, thankfully empty, nest of Grindylows.
Using his knife, Hagrid cut the boy free and began to push them both up, but his muscles were sluggish and he felt faint. Regretfully, he let the boy go and surfaced, forcing a deep breath and returning to grab the boy yet again. Everything seemed to be moving slowly, especially him, but he fought the perception and forced them both up and up.
It seemed to take ages and his shoulder muscles began to spasm, but he did not let go of his prize.
The spasms took his legs, but he moved grimly up through water that felt like icy treacle. All that mattered was getting Creevey to shore. Someone could get help for the boy there, and then he could go get warm again.
The spasms twisted his torso now and he nearly dropped the boy, but kept a claw-like hand on one thin arm. He could not move up anymore, though, and he despaired of surfacing. What to do?
Hagrid made another effort, fighting spasms and intense pain and heaved, feeling relief as he lifted Dennis up. He could see now, the torn paper in the boy's hand. It was a picture of his fallen brother, dead since the final battle.
*Poor lad.*
It was what Hagrid thought as he bunched up his shoulder muscles and heaved one final time with all his strength, feeling triumph now as Dennis cleared the surface and was flung in the general direction of the shore. He was almost certain he heard a thump of sound, although it might have been his imagination since he, himself, had not cleared the surface, but was nonetheless comforted by the prospect. Thus reassured, Rubeus Hagrid relaxed into the water's chilly embrace.
The muscles around his chest spasmed one last time, his lungs convulsing briefly and painfully, but then the spasms stopped. He no longer felt the pain or the cold. In fact, he felt as if he was growing warmer.
It was not so bad, after all-not at all.
It was just like falling asleep.
The sound of the train whistle woke him. What the devil? He was at the fog-shrouded platform to see off the students, but he was naked!
Looking about in a panic, he was relieved when he spotted his sturdy work trousers, linen shirt, and his old wrapping coat. They looked clean and pressed. He was grateful as he slipped them on, that no students had arrived as he dressed, especially as the fog was dissipating.
Where were the students, he wondered now, turning on his bare feet and looking back toward the path to the castle, but no students could be seen. Was he here to pick the students up then? The platform was cool, but not uncomfortable against the soles of his feet, as was typical in late summer. That must be it. The students would be arriving soon.
At this thought, he saw the lantern he always used to herd the new students and picked it up. He took his mind off his conundrums and prepared to meet the new arrivals. The First Years were nervous enough without him being confused. There would be time enough later to think things over.
The steam of the train could be seen now in the distance and he smiled, feeling the familiar sense of anticipation. It was always such a wonderful thing seeing the kids go off to the castle for the first time, to make new friends and learn new things.
He recalled now how once he had not had that warm feeling. Once he had been filled with resentment that others were going off to learn, to earn their OWLs and NEWTs whilst he was stuck, disgraced, little better than a squib, sentenced forever to be a caretaker, to watch others achieve their dreams and goals whilst he stood in the sidelines. It was one of his very few regrets.
Time healed everything, though, and now he could scarcely recall the woe he had once felt, the pain of not belonging. Now, if nothing and no one else, he had Severus. Severus would always be there.
The train rounded the corner and he waved his lantern.
Oddly, he could not see any children, although, a dark head briefly popped out of a window, then stuck back in the train. What had happened?
He stepped up as the train slowed before the station and as he hurried to the forward compartment to speak to the engineer, a familiar face greeted him as Severus Snape leaned out of the compartment. On seeing him, Severus smiled and extended his hand. Hagrid rushed to grab it.
"Severus!"
He was deceptively strong; for, once he got hold of Hagrid's hand, he easily hauled him aboard. Hagrid had not set foot on the train since he was a boy, but right now, the interior did not matter at all.
"Severus."
"Rubeus."
The two gazed on each other, their expressions full of tenderness, fondness and eagerness that could not be contained.
Severus suddenly clutched at the hand he still held and pulled an unresisting Hagrid along the corridor until he got to a large compartment. Once inside he turned to Hagrid and then they were in each other's arms.
"You feel so incredibly good," Severus murmured into the warm fabric of Hagrid's coat. "Why did I never do this whilst I was alive?"
"Are we dead?"
"Does it matter?"
Severus slid his hands beneath Rubeus's coat, slipping it off. He did not move back to do so, burying his nose over every surface he uncovered, stroking and smelling him, indulging the senses he had not felt in so long.
It did not seem to matter to him what he was feeling and smelling, it seemed to Hagrid, who was glad for having been clean when he woke, because Severus even buried his nose in his armpits, clearly reveling in his aroma.
His hands did not stop, either, touching him everywhere, and they were not shy. They stroked through his hair, down his neck, over his chest and soft belly, and down.
"You feel good," Severus murmured, before lifting his head to gaze on Rubeus, and then slowly, as if uncertain of his reception, pulled him down as he reached up to press his lips to him.
Hagrid groaned and leaned forward into it, opening his mouth and letting Snape's warm and agile tongue within. He heard him moan and held him closer, deepening their kiss. Then Severus drew back, gasping.
"I can't wait," was all he said.
Then Snape reached for Hagrid's trouser opening and before the half-giant could do anything but gasp, had his already half-hard cock in his hand. Even as Hagrid sought words, Snape bent his head and rubbed his face against him, inhaling deeply and learning the intimate musky scent of him. Then he extended his surprisingly broad, if delicate tongue, and licked Hagrid's huge, red glans.
"Severus!"
"Yes. Call my name," Snape murmured before sucking the head into his mouth, which was all he could manage, and stroking the massive cock with one steady hand.
"*Severus!*"
Hagrid could not help it. He had not done anything with anyone in longer than he could rightly remember and certainly never while unclothed. He trembled and bellowed as his spunk poured forth and ran in rivulets from the corners of Snape's mouth.
Severus merely smiled, gently letting him go and reaching for Hagrid's pocket where he pulled out his wand. One quick wave of it and they were both clean again.
"Thank you," he said with a sigh of relief, fervently clutching the length of ebony, "for taking care of my wand."
"Thanks fer lettin' me use it," Hagrid muttered, feeling a bit bashful after his first blowjob. "I guess yer need it back now."
"Nonsense. We shall share it, as we've done everything else so far," Snape insisted.
"Yeh, yer righ'."
"I can think of something else I'd like to share with you," Severus inveigled Rubeus with an impish expression.
Hagrid blushed, but felt his groin tighten in response. "Wha' would tha' be, Sev?"
It took a bit of manoeuvring, but soon Hagrid was sitting in the compartment, sans trousers, whilst a very naked Severus was crouched over him, straddling his straining erection.
"Sev, it won' fit."
"If the Stretching Charm isn't enough, I'll use a Reduction Charm on you, but I think it will be," Snape panted, thighs and calves bunching as he gently worked the tip of Hagrid's huge cock head into his opening.
Just as his hisses of pain began to worry Hagrid, Snape leaned forward to bite his shoulder and stifle his sounds. The sensation made Hagrid grow harder still.
Soon, Rubeus's mouth dropped open as Severus worked him all the way inside.
"Dear sweet mother of Merlin," Snape panted.
"'S tight!"
Severus clung to Rubeus as he moved up and down and thoroughly undid the half-giant's last vestiges of control.
"Sev! Severus!"
"Yes," was Snape's only response and Hagrid shook as he poured forth inside him. "Merlin, yes, Rubeus..."
He came back to himself only to find Severus still straining, jerking his hips atop him. Snape was stroking his stiff cock with one hand, from time to time rubbing the bared glans against Hagrid's furry stomach, as he used his other hand to keep his balance. His body was sheathed in sweat, and panted breaths and grunts escaped him, as he resolutely sought his own climax.
Rubeus gently took Severus's hand away from his long, hard, red cock, and smiled tenderly when Snape raised desperate eyes to his, sweat-damp hair clinging to his cheeks. "Be easy, Sev."
He gently squeezed that long, lovely prick between thumb and forefinger, working his way up until the foreskin puckered over the bright red head, and then back down again. His other hand dipped beneath and he used a single finger to tickle those warm bollocks. Severus arched and a string of ejaculate hurtled from him, striping Hagrid's hairy chest. More spurts followed, as Severus shook himself to pieces and clung to him, crying out repeatedly from the intensity of it.
Soon, it was over and Severus draped himself over Hagrid, uncaring of the sticky mess, seeking warmth and comfort, which his partner unstintingly provided.
"Oh, Rubeus."
Snape's voice was exhausted, but filled with mingled emotions he was too tired to otherwise express. Hagrid smiled.
"Righ' here. Not goin' nowhere 'thout my Sev. Not ever."
Snape froze, then hissed and Hagrid gently pulled him back to assess him. Severus looked...*exalted*.
"What is i', love?"
"That's it. That's..." Severus suddenly smiled at Hagrid, radiantly. He even seemed to glow. Oddly, what he said, though, was, "I'm sorry."
"Wha'?" Hagrid looked alarmed, as a loud and peculiar scratchy sound seemed to surround them.
Severus's hand against his face distracted him, though, especially when he lovingly stroked fingers along his cheeks, black eyes suspiciously bright as he softly murmured, "Thank you, Rubeus."
It was the last thing they knew on the train as light rushed in and the strange sound became not unlike the satisfying whisk of a broom as it swept a damp floor clear of debris.
* * * * * *
The two woke some unknown quantity of time later, entwined together, the view outside their window one of a windy, blustery early spring day. The crackling of the fire was soothing, though, and portended nothing to dread.
Severus gently stroked a hand along Rubeus's broad, hairy chest, his head nestled near a warm armpit. He truly did not mind; after months as a ghost without touch or smell, being able to scent his lover's intensely male musk was comforting, not disturbing. In fact, Hagrid holding him so close provided Snape a sense of warmth and security he had never experienced. They both sighed in contentment.
"I've not wanted to ask, bu'...why were we on tha' train? An' wha' happened?"
"I found it. I found the answer I had been seeking unknowingly as a ghost. It was reciprocity."
"Come again?"
Severus laid his cheek against Hagrid's chest now and listened to his great heart beating as he spoke.
"I had loved before, in my life, but my feelings had never been returned." He cleared his throat as it began to tighten. "I closed my heart then. Opening it...freeing myself, was my journey before I could fully cross over. I opened it when I thought I had lost you. Then my spirit tore itself free and I found myself at King's Cross, where Albus told me there was another leg of the journey to be taken."
"Yer saw Dumbledore?"
Severus nodded. "He told me I had made great strides, but needed to complete the journey before I reached my destination. He said I would meet a companion or companions on the way. Well, I didn't meet anyone, and had been a bit disturbed at the implications, but then the train got to the landing and I saw you." Snape paused to hold onto Hagrid tightly for a moment and his voice grew hoarse. "I thought I lost you in the lake. The boy was saved, but...you never came out."
Hagrid stroked his sleek black hair.
"'s all righ'. I'm righ' here. Not goin' nowhere."
"I'm so glad you made the journey with me, Rubeus."
"So am I. Bu' we never wen' anywhere, did we?"
Snape lifted his head to gaze at his lover. "Does it matter? I've wanted to be with you for so long-to touch you and know your touch. Now I can, and all I need is here."
Severus's expression was almost boyish in his eagerness. Hagrid remembered now seeing Severus as a young boy, full of enthusiasm for school, and he tried to recall when the eagerness had left those bright, black eyes. Over the years, it had been replaced with wariness, anger, resentment and scorn. He found he preferred this bright, eager look.
"Me, too," he finally admitted. "All I need."
He reached up a hand to stroke Severus's face. Snape responded with the same eagerness, which shone from his eyes. Soon, they were kissing and caressing and moving together, a sweetly gratifying dance neither could tire of, involving dreams finally fulfilled.
This time, Rubeus moved into position and Severus surprised him by not simply rutting, but gently stroking him first with his fingers.
"Ah, tha's nice, Sev."
Then Snape spread his arse cheeks and began to lick and suck along his puckered opening.
"Gah! Sev!"
Snape did not respond with words, merely licking harder and wiggling the tip of his tongue against Hagrid's quivering anus, reducing him to wordless exclamations. Severus was highly aroused, though, and finally used a wandless lubrication charm before carefully mounting Rubeus, pushing his long hard cock deep inside.
He had never done this before, but Snape knew about the prostate gland and carefully changed his angle of thrusting until Hagrid stiffened and cried out, toes curling. Then he kept stroking over that spot until Hagrid's heavy prick twitched and slippery fluid began to ooze from his slit.
Rubeus felt a warm hand insinuate itself between his thighs. It was firm and slightly work-roughened, and it slid around his rigid shaft and began to milk him with each stroke.
"Ah, Sev!"
His lover responded by gently nipping along his spine.
"Severus!" he bellowed.
Snape thrust harder and bit Hagrid's shoulder blade as he came inside him, feeling Hagrid shuddering as he sprayed semen all over the bed sheets.
Once they had calmed, they both reached for the wand on the bedside table and then nodded, taking it up together.
"*Scourgify*," they chorused and watched with satisfaction as the mess was scoured away.
Then they both smiled at each other and began to kiss and caress each other once more.
They did not hear the sounds outside, nor see the smiling face that peered into the window of the hut briefly, before sneaking away.
"I can safely state both are well satisfied, Harry. Bravo."
The Boy Who Lived smiled his thanks at Dumbledore who twinkled merrily at him from the portrait that hung on one wall of his house. He had commissioned it so he could visit with the Headmaster. On Hagrid's death, Harry had also commissioned a portrait of the Hogwarts grounds, including a faithful representation of the caretaker's hut, which hung beside the Headmaster's portrait. On Dumbledore's suggestion, Harry had urged the artist to include the two friends in the portrait.
He was glad he took the Headmaster's advice, Harry thought, because he could visit with Hagrid now, too, and Snape, if they ever left the hut. He frowned. The sky was still light in the painting, which reflected the time of day as well as the season, but neither man had yet to leave the cabin.
"Is something troubling you, Harry?" Albus asked.
"Oh. No, not really. It just seemed a bit strange to me to have Professor Snape painted into that painting and not his own, but...I guess your suggestion was a good one. They haven't come out yet. They must have a lot to talk about."
Dumbledore smiled. "They do, indeed, my boy. They became quite good friends in the months since the war, and I am well pleased. I think both men were rather lonely before."
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Well, now they can be together here. And you can visit and all."
The Headmaster nodded. "Which fact I deeply appreciate, but I think I'll leave them to their teething period, if you will. Even portraits need time to adjust to new circumstances."
Harry nodded.
"Right. Well, I need to head to the Ministry anyway. I've got another three week session of intensive training, this time in the field, so...would you mind checking on them from time to time, sir? Letting them know what happened if they should ask."
Albus beamed. "Of course, Harry. Please, go and see to your Auror training. I am sure everything here will be just fine. You have no need to worry. All is well."
Harry smiled back and hurried out of the room to grab his rucksack and head for the Floo. He was glad he had chosen to put the two portraits in his house, although, he had been puzzled as to why Dumbledore insisted he not commission a single portrait of Snape for the castle, claiming he had made a promise to the irascible Potions Master.
He must have promised him before his death, Harry thought now as he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, and studied the portraits one last time before hurling it onto the fire and calling out, "Ministry of Magic!"
The last thing he saw was the faintly curling wisp of smoke that rose from Hagrid's Hut, much as it had when the caretaker had been alive. It was a warm, cozy hut, where he had always been sure of his welcome, so it was hardly surprising, he thought now, that Snape had gravitated there and found a friend.
He was glad-after all Snape had done for him and for the Wizarding World, the least Harry could do in exchange was provide him a place of peace where, it seemed, he had finally found some contentment.
* * *
E N D
* * *
1. My Voice by Oscar Wilde
The Works of Oscar Wilde, London Galley Press, 1987
2. Helas by Oscar Wilde
Anthology of Irish Verse, 1922
3. Requiescat by Oscar Wilde
Modern British Poetry. 1920
4. E. Tenebris by Oscar Wilde
The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse, 1917
and just in case:
http://encarta.msn.com/dictionary_/oxthers.html