A Toxic & Tender Time
by
Rating: NC-17, check warnings.
Pairing: Severus/Minerva, Viktor/Millicent
Word Count: 19,021
Disclaimer: This fic is a wizard_love exchange gift written to another participant's request and no profit was made. All the characters are Rowling's. All the smutty scenarios are mine.
Summary: McGonagall & Kingsley make a startling discovery after the battle that necessitates a rapid decision with far-reaching consequences. Meanwhile, Millicent Bulstrode begins an unexpected correspondence.
Warnings: highlight between brackets if you prefer story warnings: [If you don't care for non-con or sex without love, I'll be honest and admit this skirts both, but does not truly commit them. To be on the safe side for everyone concerned, I do warn for it, but it is not a rape situation. 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.
This fic also contains: h/c both emotional & physical, first-time, rough sex, near-public, angst. There are also two original and minor character deaths.]
Author's notes: These notes have been shortened and modified for archival purposes.
As requested by the story recipient, this fic uses book canon, but isn't married to it. With all due thanks to my beta's and Brit picker -- they know who they are and how much I appreciate their efforts on my behalf.
~*~
A Toxic & Tender Time
"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
~*~
By the middle of the second day, Minerva had fallen into a routine that would continue until Severus was on his feet. It was exhausting, but so long as she followed her own handwritten instructions on the board and noted down the times, it went smoothly.
Kingsley had been right; the kitchen was very well stocked, and after a bit of hunting around, Minerva found everything she needed.
The tea was Twinings Ceylon Looseleaf, not her personal favourite, but then she did not expect to find Mackwoods 160th anniversary blend in most houses. The beautiful crystal pitcher, which was the only suitable container for tea she had found in the kitchen, had a built-in infuser, which took her a bit to become accustomed to, but was easier to clean. The tea kettle was lovely, a copper-bottomed steel that she found heated the water perfectly when she made the tea Muggle-style, although she heated the pitcher with magic.
There were steel-cut oats and the freezer of the Muggle refrigerator held handmade loaves of good old barley bread, with handwritten instructions on how long to bake them and at what temperature the oven needed to be. The stove and oven were, like the fireplace, fuelled not by wood, nor Muggle electricity, but by some form of gas. There were matches and dials with easy to read settings.
Soon the house was filled with the smell of baking bread. It was a nice counterpoint to the steady rain which continued to fall outside.
~*~
Dear Millicent,
Were you aware that your name stems from the old German name Amalaswinth? It is two words,
Amal meaning labour, and Swinth, meaning strength. I remember you from the tournament and
you are well named. You are a strong girl. I am fond of strong girls.
Your date for a meeting is fine. I can meet you there at sixteen hundred hours. I will,
of course, pay for your meal, since you are being so kind as to meet me.
I look forward to becoming reacquainted.
Your servant,
Viktor Krum
* * * * * *
Dear Viktor,
I don't see how my name could come from a word that doesn't even sound like it. Amalaswinth?
You've got a date with me, you don't have to come over all flowery to try and impress me.
I'll see you on Friday.
Millicent
* * * * * *
My Dear Millicent,
I am not coming over all flowery, whatever that means. I am telling the truth. Your name really
does come from the old German word Amalaswinth.
It came to England by way of the Normans. In French, the word is Melisent or Melisende. You English
changed it to Millicent. Nonetheless, it is a good name and I like it very much, just as I like
your honesty and forthrightness. There is fire in your words, as well. I appreciate a bit of fire
in a girl.
I look forward to our date.
Your servant,
Viktor
~*~
On the morning of the fourth day, Minerva woke to her alarm to find Severus blinking blearily on his side of the large bed. The mattress had dried and she'd been able to return him to it two days before.
"Severus?"
He turned his head, wincing at the movement, clearly weak as a kitten, but he recognised her.
"Minerva..." His voice was thin and gravelly. His expression grew wary and he struggled to look around, but the room was dim, the only light coming from a high window above the head of the bed that revealed the grey cloudy sky and rain falling outside. "Where? How long?"
"Easy, Severus," she urged, placing a warm hand to his shoulder and pressing him back to the bed. He frowned at the feeling of her hand on his bare shoulder and he shifted and frowned as he realised he was naked beneath the covers. Where was he?
She shifted her covers back and went around to his side, making him realise she had been asleep next to him. Where were they?
Her calm blue-eyed gaze steadied him. "You're safe. We're at a safe house. Kingsley sent us here whilst you recover, because you are in danger until all the Death Eaters are captured."
He frowned, clearly exhausted, but also confused. "Kingsley?"
"He's the new Minister. Don't worry, Severus, it can all wait. For now, you are safe and that's all that matters. You were very badly poisoned and nearly bled to death, but I'm taking care of you. You're coming along well."
He finally nodded, surprised at how much effort it took, and rasped out, "Potter?"
Minerva smiled. "He's alive, Severus. He lived. He slew Voldemort. Your memories aided him. It's all over, praise be."
Severus sighed, and finally relaxed back onto the bed, filled with such intense relief it was almost painful and he struggled to breathe evenly. After a moment, he turned his head away and she was surprised to see his chest hitch a little, shoulders trembling.
"Severus?"
He tried to turn away from her, but was too weak, and Minerva carefully cupped his cheek with a gentle hand. The moisture on her palm told her of what he was trying to hide, but she merely sat by him and pulled him against her lap, stroking his hair as he wept quietly in gratitude and relief.
She thought of the grieving man she had seen in the Pensieve, the man who had no one to turn to, and Minerva was glad she was with him now.
The bout of emotion left him drained and he passed out eventually, sleeping through the rest of the needed ministrations, to her relief. He only murmured slightly as she helped him achieve climax. Once again, he whispered Lily's name.
Minerva was disquieted to hear that he sounded wistful, his tone full of guilt and regret, rather than sounding eager or amorous. She was left to ponder how, even in his dreams, Severus did not indulge in fantasy.
~*~
She was not particularly profane, but looking through her trunk had Millicent swearing.
Finally, she chose to wear the dress robes she'd worn at the Yule Ball.
Having completed her NEWTs that morning, she was no longer a student, no longer a school girl. As such, she didn't want to meet Viktor Krum in her school uniform, but really, she had nothing nice to wear that wasn't more appropriate for a shop girl than for a date. Aside from the ball, no one had ever asked her out on a date, so she'd had no reason to purchase dressy, but casual attire.
Trying it on, she noted the dress was a bit short on her; she had grown a bit since fourth year; and a bit snug, but it accentuated what little figure she had. It showed off her nice long legs, at least, the one feature she knew some boys seemed to admire.
She hoped Viktor would appreciate it.
~*~
The next round of medications was followed by broth and a bit of toast, as well as Strengthening Solution, although Minerva still needed to feed Severus as he had almost no strength of his own.
Despite the various potions he was still extremely weak, only able to hold his head up for a few minutes, to nod or shake it, and to speak in his still raspy voice, but his motor coordination was almost non-existent, limbs still cool and heavy and largely unresponsive thanks to the effects of poison and extended bed rest.
He found he needed her help to position the jug she had for him to urinate into, although, to save them at least some embarrassment, she had done what she needed to under his covers, using deft fingers to ascertain the situation and placing his own stiff fingers around the jug to hold it in place. It had been all he was able to do, still abominably weak and despising his frailty.
No sooner had this bit of embarrassment ended, when she had set the jug aside, vanishing its contents and looked at him kindly, but sternly.
"You won't like this, Severus, but make no mistake, it must be done. Now, as you know, you're taking Anti-venom, along with various other potions, but it's not enough to rid you of the venom that settled in your system. I've had to massage you quite thoroughly to help you pass it. I'm afraid when I say I've needed to massage you thoroughly, I mean everywhere. It's important. You've been... passing some of the venom in various ways for the last few days."
Severus blushed, but nodded, eyes reflecting his apprehension, but also clearly too exhausted to do anything else, and she shook her head.
"Don't fret, Severus. This is needed. You nearly bled to death and didn't get medical attention for some time, so your circulation is still poor which is one of the reasons you're still so weak, and why I've had to massage you at regular intervals to encourage your circulation to return."
He nodded again, but began to shiver with reaction and she added in a quiet voice, "My thought, at first, was that I could do what needed doing in the dark, perhaps under the covers, but since you need regular bathing, as well, the issue is moot. Now, I know how I'd feel if our situations were reversed, so in the spirit of fairness..."
To his shock, she cast a Warming Charm, and began to remove her clothing.
Minerva McGonagall was a practical witch, and she well knew, now that Severus was awake, it would be difficult to get him to acquiesce to what needed doing, at least not without argument or possibly even needing to Stupefy him. This could set back his recovery and that she would not allow, anymore than she would allow embarrassment or dismay to colour needed medical treatment. The easiest way to deal with his indignity would be to reveal her own. Since they both needed a bath again, this would serve both purposes quite nicely.
When she was down to her chemise, Severus finally spoke in a rather faint voice.
"M-minerva?"
She met his gaze and unlaced her chemise, letting it slide off her, leaving her in nothing but a pair of eminently sensible bloomers. Severus, she noted, suddenly found the ceiling to be of utmost interest.
"Severus, you need a bath, and I need a bath, and frankly, I have discovered that I cannot give you one without getting so wet myself that it's easiest to just take one together. It's easier to give you a massage there, as well. So then," she added with a flourish of her wand that made the bedclothes slip off of his nude form. "Let's get on, shall we?"
Snape shivered, less from the temperature in the room, which was comfortably warm, than from his sudden nudity before her, and he could feel the hot blush that Minerva could see began along his ribs, near his chest, and moved upward until his face glowed rosy red. Despite it, however, he began to shiver uncontrollably as if he was cold. When he tried to move his arms to cover himself, though, they were stiff and uncooperative and he lay his head back with an expression of dismay.
"It's all right, Severus," she said reassuringly before walking to the bathroom, where she filled the tub and placed the foaming bath crystals in it.
This also gave her a moment or two to still her own pounding heart. Gryffindors had bravery in spades, but it wasn't always the foolhardy sort. Many had to grasp it with both hands and do what needed doing, and this was the case with Minerva McGonagall.
She was well aware of how Severus felt; she had more than a touch of trepidation herself, but what she'd told him was true. She knew exactly how she'd feel if their situation was reversed, and Severus was the one caring intimately for her. As such, she could not begrudge him the choice of levelling the field, making him less self-conscious and more amenable to what needed doing.
The fact that she had not been naked before a man, or anyone, really, in decades was something she chose not to examine too closely. She knew that while Nature had been generous with her blessings, giving her a strong, straight, healthy body, that Time had been less so. She rarely looked on her own figure, but she knew it wasn't what most men admired, even if she was still lithe and trim, her breasts were very small and not as perky as they once had been, and her skin had loosened with age. Still, she wasn't trying to seduce him, she reminded herself firmly, but make him feel more comfortable about having to be naked.
When she returned to the bedroom she noted his gaze automatically shifted from her torso to the wall to the ceiling and then back to somewhere in the vicinity of where her hat would be, if she had it on. She found herself somewhat amused at his discomfiture. Her students, she knew, would be scandalised, but then they didn't know her, really. Nor did Severus, although he was getting a bit of education now.
Without preamble, she carefully levitated him into the bathroom and, after checking the temperature of the water, gently set him within the tub, maintaining a bit of the charm as she had been doing, so as to keep him from sliding under the water.
He watched her with dismay, eyes flitting in panic from her crotch to her chest to her hair to the window, as she firmly pushed down her bloomers, revealing a surprisingly dark thatch with only a few silvery hairs. Then with a fussy precision, she stepped into the tub with him.
"There now. Nothing to be ashamed of. In my day, the Prefects all still bathed together at times, you know."
He considered this, glad of something else to focus on, then nodded. "I wondered why the Prefect's bath was so large."
"Now you know."
Without further discussion, she stretched out a hand for one of his and began to massage his fingers.
~*~
Millicent could feel the warmth and softness of Viktor's lips against her knuckles. When he straightened, she was surprised to note how dark his eyes were, almost black. Like Snape's...
Unlike Snape, Viktor Krum had grown muscular and very fit and tanned. He looked as sturdy as a young tree. His own eyes openly admired her form, and he smiled.
"Your dress is very pretty. I like it. Like the one at the Yule Ball, yes?"
Millicent was surprised he remembered. He smiled a little at her expression.
"I used a Pensieve," he admitted, "to recall the night of the ball. Your dress was most becoming."
Her opinion of him went up a few notches.
"Shall we sit and eat, then?"
~*~
Snape had nearly fallen asleep under Minerva's ministrations when her massaging hands slid to his hips, and he gasped at finding her so close to him.
Her petite breasts were barely covered by the water, and she was touching him rather intimately, and he did not know where to look or what to say or do. The partial erection he'd developed halfway through the massage surged to full strength. He was profoundly glad it was under the water, although he knew if she but glanced down it would be fairly obvious.
His expression was strained. "Minerva..."
"I'm sorry, Severus," she said quietly, gently sliding her thumbs along his hips. "Please don't fight it. This is needed. Just let me do what I must to help you fully recover."
She studied him, a bit troubled to find his bright, black eyes watching her uncertainly, almost fearfully. She sighed a little, then spoke reassuringly.
"I won't hurt you, Severus. We shan't even speak of it again if you wish. Now will you let me help?"
He released a gusty breath after a moment, staring pointedly past her shoulder, and then nodded, closing his eyes tightly. She sighed again, then released his hips to take him in her hands.
One wrapped around his rigid erection and he gasped. Her other hand cupped his bollocks. To her surprise, his bollocks surged up and away from her touch almost as soon as she cupped him. Then he gasped again, murmuring wordlessly, a pained sound, as he jerked slightly, then began to issue forth almost immediately.
She did not say anything nor in anyway indicate surprise. She merely continued to stroke out the remainder of his emission. The look on his face, she noted, was one of stunned disbelief.
She let him go and gently took one of his hands in her own. "Are you all right, Severus? Did I hurt you?"
He blinked at this then managed to meet her eyes, but, to her distress, he cringed slightly, then shook his head, looking away. The expression she had seen before he did, though, was one of guilt and self-reproach, and it bothered her greatly.
~*~
My Dearest Millicent,
I have not been able to stop thinking of you since our date. I have not enjoyed
myself so much with anyone in a long time. You are easy to talk to.
I hope you enjoyed yourself, too.
I should very much like to see you again. Perhaps dinner? If you are free,
I know a very nice place. Would next Friday be too early? Say nineteen hundred
hours?
Please let me know. I look forward to much discussion. Perhaps even dancing?
If you do not like dancing, we could go to the theatre or opera. Whatever you enjoy.
Your devoted servant,
Viktor Krum
* * * * * *
Viktor,
Please feel free to call me Milly.
I enjoyed our date, too.
Dinner would be great. Friday's not too early. It seems far off, actually.
I've never been to the theatre or an opera, so I don't know if I like them or not.
Dancing is okay, but I don't like being stepped on.
I'm looking forward to our date,
Milly
~*~
Severus was not sure what was worse about his treatment sessions, being nude, or the fact that his masseuse was nude, also. The added fact that she intended on massaging him to climax was disturbing for more than one reason.
Minerva had no way of knowing, he knew, that he was a steady customer at the brothel in Hogsmeade, which was just as he intended -- that no one knew. When he visited the Maidenfair, a hand-job was always what he requested, and he always kept his robes on and his face covered. It was part of a promise he had made to himself long ago, when Lily had turned from him. He'd sworn to himself he would never have sex with another woman.
Being sixteen at the time, he had quickly seen how untenable this promise was, so he had amended it to never having penetrative sex. Hand jobs, in other words, did not count, and since in magic, only a penetrative act constituted actual sex, this fit his requirements quite fortuitously.
So during all the years he taught, he had Floo'd to the Maidenfair every Sunday night -- and in his earlier years, every Wednesday night, as well, and afterwards, Floo'd back to Hogwarts, ready to face another week, secure in his promise to Lily and to himself.
Now Minerva was massaging up past his knees and there were no robes to cover his face. She had no robes, either, and it was a unique form of torture. Intellectually, he knew what she was doing was not sexual, it was necessary medical treatment, but his body did not seem to know that. This was partly because nearly every boy in his fifth year and above had found Professor McGonagall, and indeed, Professors Sprout, Vector and Hooch, worthy of the old Southern salute during the throes of puberty.
The other problem, if it could be called that, was that Severus had been raised by his mother to not only feel pride in being part of the Prince family, a long line of distinguished Slytherins, but also to hold a distinctly Wizarding view of women. To a Muggle, a 70 year old woman was elderly, someone to be respected, but considered frail and no longer attractive. To a Wizard, a 70 year old woman was barely reaching middle age and coming into the fullness of her magical power, strong, vital and a force to be reckoned with... not to mention highly desirable. Most fended off suitors on a regular basis.
He had been her student, eventually become her colleague, but part of him still well-recalled sitting in Transfiguration during Sixth Year, the year he had been almost totally friendless and constantly randy, listening to her lecturing and hoping like mad he wouldn't disgrace himself. Another, even more salient part, knew her to be a strong, powerful, and independent witch... a witch who had divested herself of her own robes in order to ease his discomfort, a witch he respected and admired.
He closed his eyes now and trembled as she worked.
Minerva noted that he grew hard as she massaged his thighs, but she ignored it, finishing near his hips, and shifting up by him to begin to rub warmth into his long, cold fingers. When she got to his chest Severus was trembling all over, and she recast the Warming Charm, although it did not stop his shivering.
By the time she worked her way to his pelvis, his cock was leaking fluid onto his belly. She placed a warm hand on one hip and he risked looking up at her. His lips parted on a soundless gasp.
From this angle he could see the pale pink of her nipples. They were the perfect counterpoint to the ivory of her skin. Oddly, the inane phrase, She's a lady, flitted through his mind.
He managed to tear his gaze away from her chest and croak out, "I'm sorry."
To his chagrin, she turned to face him and he was hard-pressed to keep his eyes on her face as she spoke. She managed a sympathetic smile.
"It's all right, dear. It's needed until you can do it yourself and I don't begrudge it, nor should you feel any shame."
He nodded, but managed to say, "You shouldn't have to do this, Minerva."
"There are a lot of things we shouldn't have to do in this life, Severus. You shouldn't have had to kowtow to a megalomaniac with delusions of godhead in order to save us all. I shouldn't have had to tell families that their children were dead. Harry Potter shouldn't have had to die at the hands of the monster just so he could live again and finally destroy him. Children you and I taught shouldn't have had to lose their innocence by fighting and killing in order to keep even younger children alive and safe. So I'm sure you'll excuse my believing that needing to give you a bit of release in order to get some poison out of your system is hardly worth getting bothered over."
She took his erection in one firm hand and looked at him as she began to stroke.
"We're both adults, Severus. This might be personal, but it's not criminal, and if you find a spot of pleasure in it, quite frankly, it's the least I can offer after how abominably I treated you this last year."
He did not know what to say, so finally he lay his head back and fought to keep from shifting his hips as she expertly worked his straining cock. When her other hand slid over his bollocks, he felt himself let go in shimmering, all encompassing waves of sensation.
Minerva firmly milked out as much ejaculate as possible, then spoke in a genuinely pleased voice.
"There is a lot less venom now, than before."
This comment made him open his eyes and stare at the pearly spatters laced with threads of greenish yellow that decorated his belly and her hands. He swallowed, making a face.
She scourgified the sticky mess, then began to gently wipe him clean with a dampened flannel, wondering if the short duration of this part of the massage would be detrimental, then decided that since he'd had an erection for nearly the whole of the massage to that point, that his genitals had clearly received enough blood.
~*~
"You're seeing a lot of that young Krum fellow. I thought you weren't going to see him until Friday."
Millicent blushed. "It seemed a pity for him to Floo in all the way from Bulgaria for just two dates."
"How many is it now?"
Millicent hid a smile as she replied, "Friday will be our fifth."
When she looked up at her father, his expression was mildly concerned. "Yes, but do you like him, sweetmeat?"
"He's all right," she demurred.
He considered this, then finally nodded.
"You were right. He reminds me a bit of Snape when he was younger. Mostly in the nose now, but Snape was also very serious. If he'd had the proper connections, he might have had a similar career."
Millicent considered this. "Was the Headmaster good at Quidditch?"
Edmund Bulstrode smiled reminiscently. "He played half of Sixth and all of Seventh year after the team's keeper got spattergroit over the Christmas hols. He was also hell at Gobstones as a Firstie. I reckon his mother taught him a thing or two, she used to be a champion. He just didn't have the necessary connections if he had wanted to play professionally. It's always been about who you know, not what you know, as the saying goes."
Millicent sighed. It was so sad to hear this in the aftermath of Snape's death. She wished she had known him better.
"Anyway, Viktor seems like a nice fellow. He is nice, isn't he?"
Millicent could not hide her smile this time and her father felt gratified to see it.
"He's brilliant, daddy."
"I'm glad, sweetmeat."
He patted her head in the way only he was permitted to do and Millicent sighed a happy little sigh that warmed her heart.
~*~
Every day since he'd first come to, he was able to move his arm and legs just a little bit more on his own. This coupled with his ability to sit up longer and not just sleep all day, cheered Severus greatly. On the fourth day since he woke, he finally grew curious enough to make enquiries.
"Where exactly are we?"
Minerva looked a bit sheepish.
"Truth told, dear, I've been so busy dealing with you that I haven't bothered to check. It's a safe house left by an operative who passed, per Kingsley. Somewhere warm, I gather, as he called it a desert, although it was raining for days since we got here. I think this is the first dry day I've seen."
"In that case it's not the Sahara or the Kalahari," he murmured with a bemused snort.
"He didn't say." She got up and headed for the door. "I'll put some tea on and see if I can ascertain exactly where we are."
Severus nodded, setting his head back against the pillows and sighing. He had not felt so relaxed in a long time. The last year at the school had been harrowing.
Minerva returned rather sooner than he'd expected, with a rather odd expression on her face.
"What is it?" He was suddenly, acutely aware that he did not know where his wand was. This disturbed him on several levels.
"There were some junk mailings in the box outside with the address. We're in the States. Somewhere in Arizona called Lake Havasu City."
"Is that near the Grand Canyon?" It was the only thing Severus knew about Arizona.
"I've no idea."
"Maybe you can find out when you go out."
"I don't think that will be anytime soon. The house is very well-stocked with food and supplies. I even found us Muggle clothes."
He nodded, but looked pensive.
"What is it, Severus?"
"Nothing. I suppose I was looking forward to living vicariously through you," he admitted ruefully. "I've never been one for lying in bed when I'm sick, and it's worse now, since I can't read." He waved his still somewhat uncooperative hands at her.
He was getting better and stronger every day, but she knew it must be frustrating.
"I'd be happy to read to you. I don't know what sort of books are here. The guest bedroom had a set of bookshelves. I'll see what they have."
Unfortunately, whoever owned the house was fond of Do It Yourself and cooking, which were the only sort of books the bookshelves seemed to hold. Minerva was dismayed.
"What sort of person doesn't read for pleasure?"
Severus shrugged. "I've no idea. I remember how surprised I was to discover some of my classmates didn't even know how to read when they arrived at Hogwarts."
She looked aghast. "Honestly?"
He shrugged. "Their house elves read to them in their own homes, and they'd been taught the spell so their books would read aloud. I suppose they figured it was all they needed. Most of them learned by Third Year."
She frowned, but said nothing further. "Well, I suppose we could just talk, or if worse comes to worse, there is an absolutely monstrous Muggle television in the sitting room. That might prove entertaining."
Severus snorted. "My father always wanted one of those. I saw a few things on the telly at a neighbour's house growing up, but it's been ages since I clapped eyes on one. From what I've heard the Muggle-borns tell, it's gotten rather puerile and sex-obsessed."
Minerva nodded and left the room, soon coming back with a large, bright yellow book in hand. Her tone was decisive.
"Fence Construction for Dummies, it is."
~*~
"I have to go back, Milly."
She leaned closer, eyes closing as she caught a whiff of his masculine scent, a mix of spices and musk that made her feel like swooning, except Millicent Bulstrode did not swoon. She left that to totty like Greengrass and Parkinson. She was a solid, sensible girl.
She fought her trembling knees and grasped his large hands, instead, and held onto him tightly as she spoke with the forthrightness he admired.
"I wish you didn't have to."
He kissed her hands and a funny sensation made her insides go cold, then warm, then shiver.
"I must. But we will write. And I will send you tickets to my matches. And after the matches we will go out. It will be good, you will see."
She felt a suspiciously dry sensation in her throat, followed by an equally suspicious prickling in the corners of her eyes, but Millicent Bulstrode most decidedly did not cry. That was for softies like Malfoy and Flint.
"When will I see you again?" There. That hadn't sounded at all quavery or weak.
"Very soon. I hope you will not be forgetting me."
She shook her head adamantly. "Never!"
He smiled then and pulled one of his hands free of her.
"This is good. But just in case, I would like for you to wear this, to remember me."
He pulled a very large, very elegant ring from his pocket and extended it to her. She stared at it, barely breathing.
"This was made by my great grandfather for his promised bride. It is silver for wisdom and light, mother of pearl for faith and innocence which is you, and unicorn horn for protection and virility, which is me." He smiled at how well the rather crude, thick ring fit Millicent's finger. On any other girl it would have looked gauche, unseemly. On Millicent it looked very fitting indeed.
"Will you wear my ring, Milly?"
He wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but he found himself with his arms full of trembling female, clearly struggling not to cry as she told him, in between firm and deliciously warm kisses, exactly how pleased she would be to wear his ring.
~*~
"Minerva."
It was time again for him to be massaged. Soon she would not have to, as the level of venom was dissipating, and his hands were losing their inflexibility so he would be able to take care of the matter on his own, but for now, she was still assisting him... and still undressing to do it, and it was this he wished to address.
She paused with her hands near the ties of her robe.
"Yes?"
He felt himself blush, but went on.
"You don't have to do that. Undress, I mean. I... it's not really necessary, I, uh, know this is something that needs to be done, and, well... you just don't have to do that anymore, truly."
She studied him and he met her gaze, even as his blush grew ferocious. To his surprise, her expression grew, by turns, hard, then sad, and finally, something he could not identify since she looked away and nodded.
"Very well."
She got up then with the tray of his food and left the room. He had the distinct feeling she was... disappointed in him. It was an impression he well remembered from first year Transfigurations when he'd proved unable to transfigure a pin into a piece of paper.
When she stepped back into the room her face was devoid of expression, and he swallowed. The memory reminded him of something that was more significant, at least momentarily, than his other concern.
"Where is my wand, Minerva?"
With that same expressionless look, she went to the closet where her teaching robes were hanging and pulled his wand from her pocket. She brought it to him and he sighed in relief to feel the magic flowing through him.
"If that's all, then--"
"No. I said something that disturbed you. What was it, please?"
Her eyes grew stern.
"It doesn't matter, Severus. Now if you don't mind--"
"But I do mind," he retorted, feeling his wand loosely clasped in his still clumsy hand and the power filling and restoring him. "Somehow I've disappointed you and I want to know what I did or said to do that. After all you've done for me, if I've hurt you in some way..."
"Don't be daft, Severus. I'm not hurt and I'm not disappointed. If anything, I'm impatient. Let's get this out of the way so we can get on with the rest of our day."
She was puzzled now at his expression, which was assessing her carefully. She grew impatient.
"What is it?"
He shook his head. "I never before realised that you use that no-nonsense tone of voice to distance people."
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "Severus Snape, are you reading my mind?"
He lifted a brow in surprise. "No. Just observation. I'd never seen it before, because..."
He drifted off at the realisation and then looked back up at her. "I'd never seen it before because I've never seen any other side of you until now. You never let down your guard with me before, Minerva. I didn't realise that until today."
She glared at him. "You're getting fanciful, Severus. That's not like you."
He snorted. "It's hardly fanciful when you were acting perfectly normal until I told you that you didn't have to undress anym--"
He stopped as he noticed her flinch and his expression gentled. "Sweet Merlin... Minerva, I didn't mean it like that."
She frowned now, uncertain and wary. "What the devil are you on about now? I swear, you fractious man, I think I preferred you unconscious!"
He drew in a steadying breath and finished his thought. "I didn't mean I didn't... enjoy ...seeing you undressed. That wasn't what I was trying to convey."
She stilled and her face became expressionless once again. "I see."
"No. No, you don't." He sighed, then gestured with his chin. "Please sit down. This may take a bit."
"You still need your massage, don't think for one minute you're getting out of it."
He shook his head impatiently. "Sod the massage. This is important."
She lifted a brow at this, then sat, rather stiffly, beside him. "I'm seated."
"Good. Minerva... what I was trying to say by asking you that was, well... frankly, you're really far too good a woman to be doing that for the likes of me."
She considered this, but said nothing.
"It's been very kind of you, more than kind. But, as kind as the gesture is, it's just not necessary anymore. We can take it as given and there's no need for you to, well, debase yourself for me. It's... unseemly."
Her brow raised again, and her voice was firm, although her eyes had grown bright and hard.
"I see. Very well, then. I apologise for subjecting you to my unseemliness. Now, let's get this out of the way. "
"No! Bloody hell, Minerva... stop deliberately misinterpreting what I'm saying!"
"What misinterpretation? You said yourself that for me to undress is unseemly. I think that's plain enough."
"No. You're not unseemly. I'm not trying to say nor imply that. Besides, look at me. I'd hardly be one to speak, would I? What I'm saying is... you feeling you have to do that for me is unseemly. Don't you see?"
She sat straighter. "I'm afraid not. I was doing it in the spirit of fairness. What I've had to do for you is very personal and I felt, once you were awake, that you would be uncomfortable and possibly even combative about it, so I thought if I levelled the playing field you wouldn't feel you were the only one being subjected to indignity and, I hoped, be cooperative."
He nodded. "I understand, Minerva, and it's been appreciated, believe me, but..." his voice trailed off.
"But what?"
He closed his eyes tiredly and sighed. "It's just that I feel it's not right. It's one thing for you to have to do that for me, but... you shouldn't feel you need to subject yourself to more... dishonour... on my account. That's all."
He lay with his eyes closed for a long time, feeling the sting of unshed tears, frustration this time, and wishing he were more facile with words. His useless, stupid tongue was always getting him in trouble. First with Lily, now with--
"Severus. Look at me."
He opened his eyes and focused on her. His eyes widened as her hands went to the ties of her robe.
"This is not dishonour." She unfastened the ties and pushed the robe off of her and he was transfixed. "It's evening the score, if you will, but not dishonour. What that madman tried to do, that's dishonourable. What Albus made you do up on that tower -- that's dishonour. But me stripping off before you so that you don't have to feel alone and ashamed and even soiled by what I have to do? Don't you dare insult me by saying it's dishonourable."
He swallowed. He didn't even realise he spoke.
"But you're a lady."
His sincerity was evident in tone and expression and Minerva's gaze softened and grew a bit moist.
"Ach... and you're a braw lad."
He smiled at this, a shy and almost boyish smile. She didn't think she'd ever seen it's like even when he had been a boy.
He reached for her with a stiff, but no longer cold hand and she took it in hers and kissed it, blinking tears away.
"Now, then. Will you let me help you? It's well past time for it and I don't want you to have a set back."
Severus nodded, then lay back and placed himself into her hands.
~*~
It was bonfire night. She was later than she had intended. The whole family was probably already gathered at the hilltop. Lachlan would be waiting, trying to keep her irascible father company. She should have left off finishing her reports for Sunday, but one thing that marked Minerva McGonagall was devotion to duty. She might be a bit new to her position, but she intended on starting as she meant to go on. That meant her work came first, and frivolity came after the work was done. It was one of the things she loved about Lachlan; he not only understood, but lauded her work ethic.
Still, she longed to be with him, with her family. She heard a loud banging noise. The fireworks must have begun. She exchanged two tired feet for four swift and silent ones, merging into her Animagus form and sprinting for the hilltop where she could see a fire blazed. She did not see anyone else, though, and that was strange enough to bring her up short, stopping. Strange, harsh laughter sounded and she shrank in on herself, then saw the spark of fiery green streaking across the sky. Fireworks?
She moved hesitantly forward now, as only a cat could - ears flattened back and tail clinging to haunches, suddenly fearful. Something, she knew, was horribly wrong. The fiery green began to glow and soon an ugly skull illuminated the sky, a glowing snake head surging from its mouth. What could it be? She had never seen a fireworks display like that, if indeed, it really was a fireworks display.
She reached the edge of firelight and saw two robed figures standing by the fire. Unmoving figures lay all about. Her family!
Still, she dared not approach, trusting her instinct to watch until she knew more. Something horrible had happened.
The robed figures, men, she realised, men wearing masks, were throwing something on the fire. Death Eaters? Those disciples of the wizard who called himself Voldemort? What were they doing here? Were Aurors on the way? Should she go and sound an alarm?
It was with horror that she recognised her father, lifeless, eyes wide, mouth in a rictus of terror, being held in one of the robed figure's arms. Then the robed figure tossed her father onto the bonfire as if he was a faggot of wood... and she saw Lachlan's craggy face, his eyes astonished in death, hair ablaze where he lay on the same fire.
"Minerva!"
She jerked awake, the shriek issuing forth as it always had after this dream.
She felt a gentle hand against her face and without thinking, she hurled herself against the warm shoulder beside her that smelt of spice and musk and the unique scent that was Severus Snape, her friend and House rival and beloved colleague.
He was startled for a moment, then carefully wrapped his arms around her, holding her uncertainly.
"It's all right," he murmured in his deep voice. "It was just a dream."
She shook her head, but could not speak. The dream-memory had plagued her over forty years now. This was the first time she had ever woken from the horrific dream and not been alone. To her chagrin she found she could not stop the tears, so she did not try. She clung to Severus and was immeasurably relieved and grateful when he merely held her more snugly and rubbed her back with gentle hands.
The memory of her family's slaughter remained as sharp as the night she'd first experienced it, a young and well-positioned worker at the Ministry, and one of the secret arbiters who worked solely at the discretion of the Minister. They had been innocent. Voldemort had slaughtered them to show the Minister that not only could he attack with impunity, but that he knew who worked for him. The death of her family members signalled a leak at the Ministry and made paranoia the watchword ever after among most of the departments, but particularly among the Minister's staff. They became more concerned with the leak, it seemed to her, than in finding the perpetrators and bringing them to justice. She suffered a terrible crisis of conscience.
It had changed everything, but not more so than for the young woman she'd been, who was left rudderless. As sole survivor, she wound up with the entirety of her family's holdings, a fortune she would gladly have given away to return her loved ones to her.
There were ways, she knew, but they were dark ways. There was also her Time-Turner, but that would breach rules set out from times past and by more learned wizards and witches than her. So she'd been in a quandary. Vigilantism or putting already shattered faith back in the Ministry?
Albus Dumbledore had approached her, taken her into his confidence; he was starting a sub rosa group intended to investigate, protect and fight against Voldemort. Shaken by her feelings of revenge, she broke Ministry rule for the first time in her life and entrusted her Time-Turner to Albus Dumbledore. Could he hold it for her until she needed it back?
He gravely accepted it, and, a few weeks later, when the Aurors proved unable to do anything, she met with Dumbledore again, who asked if she had considered teaching... he had a position that needed filling. He also gently handed back the Time-Turner. It would doubtlessly prove useful he told her, but it was also far too tempting a trinket for a chess player. It was best in the hands of the one who had been entrusted with it.
He had given her purpose, a job, tasks that helped his efforts against Voldemort, and more importantly, although she had not realised it at the time, a sense of family. The other teachers welcomed her, accepted her, and soon she was a valued and respected colleague. She had never regretted her decision.
Now the fiend who had led to it was dead, she recalled, and new shudders ran through her.
She had not slain him, but she had helped the one who could, and had done all in her power to ensure his success.
The man who held her had given all he had to the same task, if for different reasons.
Suddenly, Minerva felt a frisson of heat, of blossoming desire, filling her. It was, she knew, a reaction to events. Severus had suffered his own soon after waking, but she had not had time to process events. She had been nursemaiding him and tending to his needs. His very personal needs.
More fierce heat surged through her and she had to fight the impulse to start kissing him, caressing him. Severus, no doubt, would be horrified. She was sure he had never thought of her in that manner.
"Severus," she whispered against his neck, and he started, then nodded.
He was, she noted, incredibly warm. They were pressed together from head to knees and not an inch of him was cool. This was a very gratifying sign of his recovery and she sighed her contentment.
She smiled against his neck, rubbing her cheek against him, and he repositioned himself slightly. She did, as well, bringing him closer and enjoying his warmth like the cat which was a part of her. An uncomfortable source of pressure pushed against her pelvis and she frowned until she realised what it must be. Surreptitious shifting confirmed it as he made a slight sound and tried to pull his hips back.
She sighed.
"It's all right, Severus. It doesn't bother me."
He stilled, then she could feel his blush, the fierce surge of heat against her face. She smiled.
"It's a good sign, as well. It means your circulation has improved."
He made a sound rather suspiciously like a bitten-off groan and she sighed again.
"Honestly, dear. I know you've no designs on me. There's no need to feel shame." She held him close again and rubbed his back even as he stiffened and began to tremble. She sighed again. "Truly."
When he spoke, she almost could not hear him despite their proximity. She could feel his lips against her temple as he mumbled.
"And if I did?"
Minerva frowned.
"If you--"
She pulled back, but he could not meet her eyes. Tremors assailed him and she abruptly realised it was ardour that was making him tremble so.
The frisson of desire from before nearly overwhelmed her as it rushed back, but she banked it. This was too sudden, too new. She had no wish to frighten him nor harm their friendship as it was. She had known Severus, she abruptly recalled, for nearly thirty years, man and boy.
Carefully, more carefully than she had done anything in the time they had been secreted away, she touched fingertips to his cheek.
The heat bled from his face to her fingers and she found herself stroking his bewhiskered jaw, stroking back until she could run her fingers through his long hair. He had not seen to it the entire last year at the school, more occupied with other things, and it had grown rather long. Now it was well past his shoulders.
"My braw lad," she whispered softly, nearly crooning as tears filled her eyes. "Tapadh leibh."
He frowned, studying her, then awareness filled his gaze, but his voice remained puzzled. "What for?"
Her own whisper was barely audible now.
"Making me feel... wanted again." Her smile was tremulous, but her fingers remained gentle as she caressed his neck and shoulders now. "It's been a long time."
"Ah." He nodded, then, to her delight, took her stroking hand in his and kissed it. "I'm... not certain I can do very much, anyway."
She drew in a steadying breath and smiled at him. "That's perfectly all right. These things are best done gradually, I'm given to understand."
He studied her again, then said, "That's not what I meant. I... I made a promise a long time ago. I've kept it so far, but now..."
"Now?"
"I promised I'd keep to myself. That I wouldn't... have sex. I've never considered breaking that promise... until now."
She considered this, then nodded at him. "I made the same sort of vow a long time ago. I understand how powerful the need to punish oneself can be."
He frowned at this and she shook her head. "Yes, I said punish. Saving oneself is never about another, but about yourself. Keeping from others for the sake of someone else... someone dead... is always about yourself. The person who's gone cannot appreciate it. It is not like a marriage or bonding vow, which is done in parity between two people where the vow is sanctified anew with every instant it is kept. You cannot keep a promise to a dead person, only to yourself. In keeping it, you remember the person each time the vow is recalled. The greater the sacrifice, the more often the person is recalled, the more impact the memory gains."
Severus looked angry, but he listened, and as he listened, he calmed, considering her words. She continued in a quiet voice, no longer looking at him, her gaze seemingly far-off.
"Given enough time, the person gone becomes the focal point for your pain -- a faultless, guiltless, perfect and unassailable entity you have deified through sacrifice."
"You think I'm a fool."
Minerva blinked, looking at him again. "I wasn't speaking of you at all, Severus, but of myself."
His eyes widened. She smiled sadly and put her hand back up to his face.
"Do you think you're the only one who ever lost someone to that madman?"
He studied her as realisation came to him. His black eyes were suspiciously bright. "I apologise. I thought you..."
"You thought I was treading on your memories of Lily."
He flinched, but nodded, and she sighed, giving in to the impulse to hold him close. "No, Severus. No more than you tread on my memories of Lachlan. Do you know why?"
He shook his head slowly, holding her a bit uncertainly now.
Minerva stroked his cheek. "Because I care for you just as I did for him."
"Lachlan."
"My fiance." She swallowed. "Voldemort killed him, along with my family, a long time ago."
He stilled briefly, then he held her closer, losing his prior hesitation. "Minerva..."
"A long time ago, Severus," she repeated. "And time to be moving on, I'm thinking."
He finally nodded, and just held her.
~*~
My Dearest Milly,
Enclosed please find your ticket for our game against the Vladivostok Vultures.
I am so looking forward to seeing you again, my sweet.
Please say you will be coming. I long to hold you again.
Viktor
* * * * * *
Viktor,
Has a bludger hit you in the head? Of course, I'll be there!
I'll be coming, too.
longingly,
Milly
~*~
They had slept in the end, a bit wrung out from their confessions and discoveries, sharing nothing more than a few caresses that conveyed banked anticipation.
Still, they had not pulled away from each other, and so it was that Severus woke in someone's arms for the first time in his life.
He held Minerva a bit tighter as he stirred, gratified and a bit fearful as one. She understood him far better than he'd thought, but he felt his lack of experience acutely.
He strove now to relax. It was the first time in a very long time that either had been able to take their ease. With him more or less on his feet, the constant need for potions and treatment had finally eased. There was nothing that required regular attention. He could afford to relax.
"Mm... good morning, my dear."
He smiled and his arms tightened around her for a moment as he murmured, "Good morning."
She smiled and cast a quick freshening charm over both their mouths, earning her a shy smile, which she returned.
She reached a hand up to touch his face as she pulled back to look at him and she found herself the recipient of an ardent, if unpractised kiss. The realisation anew that he had never done this gentled her response. She carefully eased him back, shifted the angle of her face and then their kiss deepened and grew as her newfound lover learned what pleased them both.
He was moving against her, unconsciously thrusting his hips in a timeless rhythm, as his lips and tongue explored her own. Minerva considered this for a moment, then made a decision.
Severus gasped as their night clothes disappeared and he felt all of her against him.
"There now."
He studied her, then very slowly and deliberately moved to bury his face in the powder soft skin of her throat.
She shuddered as his lips followed the tendons and mapped the veins in the long column of her neck. Her hands clenched on his upper arms and he groaned and traced kisses down to the hollow of her neck, where he paused.
Slowly, so slowly, as if uncertain of her response, one hand sought and found the small mound of one of her breasts and they both gasped.
"So soft," he murmured, caressing it with his palm, astonished at the smoothness against his own work-roughened skin. She nearly said something, then cried out as his lips found her other breast and she gave in to the sensations, letting them wash over her. It had been so long.
"My lady..."
She swallowed and let her hands run over him as they pleased.
"Mo mhùirnìn... Mo cridhe."
He scarcely paused as she crooned at him, desperate now with desire.
She knew he was unlikely to last this first time and accepted it without qualms. Perhaps it would be best to facilitate matters, and then they could learn each other more leisurely over the course of the day.
She insinuated her hand between them, gently cupping and squeezing him and smiling as he cried out.
"Easy."
"M-minerva... I don't know how long..."
"Let it happen on its own, Severus. It's Nature's way and naught to be ashamed of."
He trembled. "I... I wanted to be inside you."
She smiled, and took one of his hands. Without a word, she led it to the lips of her cunt and let him feel her slick entry. His fingers stroked gently and when she gasped, he returned to the spot, to the aching nub of her clitoris and gently brushed it. She pursed her lips at the intense sensation and shifted his hand to the side of her throbbing need. He swiftly took up a careful rhythm, brushing along the sides of it, long fingers dipping all the way down to her entry and back again. Soon she was rocking into his touch and he firmed it, eventually pressing his palm to her, groaning as he felt her wet it with her slickness as she tensed and came against him.
Minerva felt herself relax back onto the bed, and she smiled up at him. "Ach, Severus... my braw lad."
He leaned down to kiss her and she reached for him at the same time, fitting him to her. He froze, staring at her uncertainly, studying her gaze.
"Tha mi'g iarraidh tuilleadh."
His gaze darkened with lust at her tone and she cried out as he plunged inside her depths.
Merlin and Morgana, but it's been far too long.
It was her last coherent thought as Severus established a forceful rhythm that drove all reason from her mind.
She could only hear his grunting breath, half-murmured words he was unaware he made, and feel his long, hard cock filling her equally needy cunt, smell their combined sweat and the musky salt scent of sex.
"Tuilleadh!"
He sped up, moving to kiss her. The new position had his hard shaft stroking her clitoris with each stroke, and she felt herself falling again. She cried out in exultation.
"Seo e!"
Her shout galvanised him and he moaned at the feeling of her tightening around him, even wetter and slicker than before, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. He shuddered, feeling his own orgasm swiftly approaching.
Minerva's voice was languid, sultry with satiation.
"Thusa a-nise, Severus."
Her soft words of encouragement coupled with her fingers stroking his face were too much for him.
"Minerva!" He shuddered through his climax, feeling each separate pulse of ejaculate, the intense pleasure washing over him in waves. "Oh, gods..."
~*~
It should really have come as no surprise.
The game was not long at all. Viktor had gone after the Snitch with such ferocity that the golden, feathered ball seemed to shriek and freeze in terror as he swooped down on it, a mere three minutes after the game had begun. 150 points to Bulgaria. It was scarcely worth suiting up.
Until, that is, he realized what a turn-on his uniform was to Millicent.
She rushed to his changing room without hesitation, despite the shocked look of some of the reporters who tended to follow him about, and tackled him by the massage table.
"Oh, Viktor!"
"Milly..."
The sound of flash bulbs gave them pause, and Millicent waved her wand in irritation, swiftly spelling the curtains shut and adding a Privacy Charm. She turned back to Viktor and lifted a brow, smiling.
"Now where were we?"
He hiked her up and onto the table to kiss her at his leisure. He was so pleasantly engrossed in this, that he didn't realise she was undressing him until his team shirt fell away.
"Milly?"
"I've been waiting." She eyed him avidly, spreading her legs farther and bringing him closer still to her.
He didn't want to question his good fortune, but manners had been ingrained in him, and consideration for her reputation was his foremost concern.
"Milly, are you sure you do not want to wait for--" His words were cut off by Milly's tongue, which thrust in his mouth in imitation of what she so clearly wanted.
"I've been waiting," she repeated huskily, lifting her skirts but a little, just enough to show him her Slytherin garter and her utter and unashamed lack of undergarments.
"Milly!"
His confused cock, at first hard from her avid embrace, then tempered due to his hesitance, now surged forward and tried to rip a hole through his trousers.
She corrected this situation with a judicious bit of magic, and soon he was waving before her, a thick, red, blunt-headed warrior proudly saluting his commander.
"Milly, are you... have you..."
"No, and what are you waiting for?"
He took one of her hands in his and kissed it. She sighed so needfully that he had to swallow.
"Milly, it will hurt. I don't want--"
"I know that. But it won't hurt that long and I've been waiting. I've been of age a year already. Oh, Viktor!"
He slid a hand to her cunt and pressed his knuckles to her damp flesh. She writhed and moaned.
He kept his hand there, but put his thumb to good use, rubbing her hot, juicy clit. Millicent screamed lustily, her desire making his head swim. Panting, he moved forward and kissed her, hard. She bit at him lightly and they exchanged a desperate kiss, Milly moaning all through it as he stimulated her.
Suddenly she stiffened and his knuckles were bathed in slickness. Without hesitation he moved his hand aside and thrust into her with one solid stroke.
Her legs crushed him, wrapped around his hips, her heels resting in the small of his back as she held her breath and rode out the painful sensation and he held still, waiting.
Soon, she urged him on and he began to move, sinuously grinding his hips as his cock moved in and out within her cunt. They both kissed, and moaned, and writhed.
She soon climaxed again, crying out into his shoulder, biting at his muscled arm and he gasped, thrusting harder, amazed at how well she was accepting his bulk. He was not a small man in that regard and he had learned to be gentle, but Milly took all of him with ease and he was able to thrust as vigorously as he dared. This was enough to make him mad with lust for her.
"Milly!"
"Viktor!"
She climaxed once again and he pounded into her, feeling himself empty within her welcoming depths, bollocks deep.
When he drew back, she smiled, a private smile meant only for him, and gently kissed his sweaty forehead.
"I think I love you."
His eyes brightened, and his own smile grew. "Oh, my sweet Millicent."
"I'm all yours," she declared, leaning back to rest on her elbows, unconsciously causing her breasts to point up and showing him her wet, coral cunt.
He did not waste time with words.
Viktor bent over and let his tongue speak for him as he introduced Milly to his second favourite activity after Quidditch.
It was Bulgaria's next game where Viktor put all the rumours to rest and gave the reporters something else to focus on when he had half the spectators on the opposite side of Millicent's seat spell out the words "Marry me, Milly. Please."
Millicent Bulstrode decided that there were definitely times it was okay to cry, as well as indulge in public displays of affection.
~*~
It had not been too hard a sacrifice to be made for the sake of peace in the wizarding world and personal vindication, but Severus decided the intensity of pleasure and gratification he had finally discovered in lying with a witch was worth any lingering guilt over the loss of his cherished virginity. He wondered if his long abstinence had any affect on the seemingly overwhelming assault to his senses. Was it like this for all wizards?
Minerva was astride him, slowly riding up and down on his cock, and he could feast his gaze on her pale pink nipples and how they contrasted so pleasingly with her ivory skin. What imperfections her skin might have held did not matter in his eyes; his own body was imperfect, but with it, he would worship her, like the lady she was and, as she deserved to be. He would lie still if she asked, as she had asked, in fact, and use nothing but his gaze to show her what he felt.
Her strong hands were rubbing back and forth over his chest as she moved, leaving behind trails of tingling heat, making him moan each time she rubbed his tightly crinkled nipples. Her own gaze was avid, feasting on his obvious pleasure and revealing her own.
She had already come a few times, enough that her musky fluid trickled slowly down his hefty bollocks as she moved. He could feel his bollocks swelling and lifting and struggled to hold back. She spoke in a throaty whisper and he struggled to understand, to focus...
"Siuthad."
Her gaze clearly told him what she wanted from him. He cried out helplessly.
Severus grit his teeth and clenched his hands. His dark eyes, trying to keep watching her, disobeyed him and rolled back as his body obeyed her and came in powerful waves that threatened to drown him in an immensity of blissful feelings.
It was a long while before he heard her softly repeated words, punctuated by the stroking of her hand to his chest near where her head lay. He blinked as he realised she was no longer astride him, but curled up against his side, her head against his shoulder.
"Severus. Love."
He frowned and turned to look at her and she repeated it one last time, before kissing him gently.
"Am I?"
She smiled and nodded. This time he kissed her, then lay back again, sighing satisfaction and fatigue alike. Sleep overtook them both, and when they woke, the high window revealed a patch of blue sky amidst the clouds.
"What time is it?"
She smiled. "Late morning, I believe. Does it matter?"
He shook his head. "For a change, it does not."
He turned to her and caressed her face. It was, he realized, beloved to him. She had been in his life for so long, teacher, colleague, ally, worthy adversary, good friend, lover...
"It's been a long time," he noted.
She smiled up at him, a touch of uncertainty in her expression. "It has. And I need you to know, Severus, that I don't expect more than this. It's all probably just... misplaced joi de vivre."
"Perhaps," he conceded, looking pensive. "I'm certainly glad to be alive, and I'm glad to be with you, Minerva, but I don't think it's misplaced, and really, I don't know what I expect or expected, aside from not still being alive."
She frowned at this and pulled him to her, holding him close.
"I'm so sorry. I wish you had felt able to confide in me," she admitted. "You and Albus both."
He shook his head.
"I did what Albus asked. The boy won and he's alive. That's..." he paused as his throat tightened, and finished in a rough whisper, "that's what matters."
Minerva stroked his back. "Yes. You kept your promise."
He swallowed. "Not all of them."
She considered this, then sighed. "There does come a time, Severus, when you have to live for you. You've never had that. It's past time, I'd say."
He pulled back to look at her and she stroked his face.
"I refuse to feel guilty over what we've done, Severus. We're both adults, and we both wanted it, needed it some might say. Wherever we go from here, even if it should never happen again, I plan to treasure what happened here."
"Yes."
He leaned over to kiss her tenderly and she was surprised as his kisses went from her mouth, to her cheek, jaw and neck. His hands began to stroke gently over her skin.
"Severus?"
He barely paused, mouth hovering above her collarbone. "I treasure it, too, Minerva. But there are no words I could ever use to thank you. So--"
His head dipped as he carefully began to lave one of her small breasts and her fingers clenched on his shoulders.
"Severus..."
He did not respond verbally, his hands and mouth answering her, showing her without words what he felt. Soon she was splayed out before him and any apprehension she may have had, or vulnerability she may have felt, fled in the gentle, but thorough onslaught of his lips and teeth and tongue.
"Severus!"
He had never done it before, but he had read of it, and dreamt of it, and Minerva was the beneficiary of twenty years of pent-up desire. Her scent filled his nostrils as her flavour was imprinted on his brain from his eager tongue, discovering anew this secret place of witchly pleasure he had long denied himself.
He could scarcely hear her cries as he learnt every curve and fold and bump of slick flesh. He was not even aware that he was hard again, his cock flat to his belly, head damp with pre-come.
When her thighs clamped on his shoulders, he lifted his head long enough to hear her cry out, and he watched her find her own pleasure.
Her voice was so hungry when she spoke he was taken aback. "Severus -- your fingers, or your cock. Now. Please!"
She writhed and he slid up and carefully aligned himself, but she bucked onto him before he could thrust in. Just like that, they were joined, thrusting together, his bollocks slapping her trim arse cheeks.
"YES!"
Her shriek was accompanied by wordless exclamations, and her hands gripped his so tightly it hurt, and he dared not stop, not even to adjust his position for comfort.
So this is a 'witch in heat', as the saying goes.
He looked his fill, savouring the moment. Minerva McGonagall was magnificent.
He groaned as his own orgasm caught up to him, and he dimly heard her cry out again, and felt her clutching him tightly as he emptied himself within her.
Afterwards, they dozed, sated, and when the brightness of the afternoon sun woke them, they moved together as one, on their sides, joining again in a gentler coupling that left them both incredibly relaxed.
A long, soothing bath refreshed them, as did food, and the subject of what was going to happen next did not crop up again. Each had decided to accept what the day brought, or indeed, what the rest of life had to bring.
~*~
Six months later...
"It seems Viktor Krum married Millicent Bulstrode."
Minerva turned in the kitchen to eye her husband where he sat at the small dinner table.
"Really?
He set down the copy of the Prophet and nodded.
"Apparently, they had a whirlwind romance and finally decided to make it legal. Their honeymoon will take them through the winter hols."
McGonagall beamed. "Well, that's delightful."
He nodded a bit pensively. "I did not feel comfortable saying anything to anyone else at the time, not even Albus, but Miss Bulstrode did attempt a, let us say secluded rendezvous with me her sixth year. I'm pleased to see she's moved past her childish fantasy."
Minerva raised a brow at this. "Oh? Has she then?"
He looked up at her and arched an inquisitive brow. She smiled.
"Severus. Miss Bulstrode married a tall, graceful, dark-eyed man who spent most of his time whilst at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament glowering from under his brows at everyone, or else in the library with his rather large nose stuck in a book. I can't imagine what she possibly sees in him."
He coloured at this observation, but merely said, "My own supposition was rather more plebeian -- I was guessing their sprog will be here in half a year."
She frowned. "Severus, you are far too cynical."
"And you, my dear, wear rose-coloured glasses." He smiled at her as she brought the toast to the table, giving her a kiss in exchange. "Still, we present a balanced pair."
She smiled back as she settled down, adding a pat of butter to both toast and her porridge as Severus picked his paper back up and continued reading. She mused as she stirred.
She was not young, no, but, as a witch, she was not old either. Or as her mother would have put it, when you're 99 and he's 69 who will care?" It still bothered her, though. His intense interest in the Prophet, his taciturn avoidance of the local group of Wizarding folk in the area. It was part of a pattern that disquieted her.
"Severus, does it bother you? Being here, I mean? You know I'd go back with you in a trice if you but asked."
He set his paper down again. His tone was even and held no hint of annoyance, although it was not the first, or even the third time she had asked. "No, Minerva. Truly."
Kingsley had asked, also. When he'd come two and a half months after sending them to safety, to inform them most of the Death Eaters had been rounded up, he had offered them both the chance to return.
It was far easier for Minerva. She could always claim herself recovered. To Severus, Shacklebolt had offered to take the blame, willing to state publically he had made a mistake when he thought Severus was dead, and offering to declare that he had been in hiding, uncertain, but had come forward. So far as Kingsley was concerned, having seen Snape's memories and spoken in depth with Dumbledore's portrait, the Wizarding world owed Severus a great debt... not to mention 18 years back pay for services to the Ministry, at hazard duty rates.
Severus had nearly demurred, but Minerva stayed his hand. His ordeal had left him prone to stiffness and pain. He was not the same man he had been, hair streaked now with silver, once resonant voice a touch raspy from snakebite damage.
They both had places, her own holdings in Scotland, and his residence in Yorkshire. Shacklebolt asked what they wanted. He could do whatever was within his power for them, and would, without hesitation.
They finally decided to keep Minerva's residence, for whenever they wished to visit home, and to sell Snape's. The monies from that he could add to their savings account.
The monies comprising his back pay were set up as a fund in his name for impoverished Slytherin students, to provide them new robes and books each school year, and a small stipend of spending money each month they were in school. Shacklebolt agreed. He also offered Severus pleasant contract work -- the Ministry was in dire need of an expert in posology. Minerva had discovered an expansive back lawn, with a greenhouse and a small, but well-built shed. Severus had been eyeing it with intent of setting up a lab.
Minerva was not sure what she wanted to do, but had found to her surprise, that returning to teach youngsters no longer appealed. There were a few American wizards and witches, all adults, she discovered, who sought more education in Transfiguration and spell work than their home-schooling had provided. There was a niche for her here if she wished it.
They were, Shacklebolt reminded them, here as husband and wife, after all. Shacklebolt had smiled and reminded them, that as Minister, he could make that reality.
Minerva's only qualm was about her name. The name of her clan was important to her. Severus had no such qualms. He despised the man who had given him his name anyway.
So it was that the names on their passports were changed, and Severus Snape, without vacillation or any sign of reluctance or regret, became Severus McGonagall. Shacklebolt was pleased as punch to perform the service in the back lawn of the house which was his own wedding gift to them.
She looked now on that back garden, covered with frost. In a few months, spring would come, and she and Severus would plant herbs that they could cook with and that he could use for his potions research. They would plant vegetables and fruit for their table.
It would be, she suddenly knew, a very good crop.
~*~
Epilogue...
"Nicholai! Ivanka!" Millicent's voice carried over the crowd of tourists to her ten year old twins.
She was so very pleased to have been able to bring them on this vacation, their last summer before they began school at Durmstrang. Viktor was playing his last year of professional Quidditch, and his tour had brought them to the Americas, where Quidditch was more a curiosity than a major sport, although what American fans existed were more avid than even their European counterparts.
Her husband had been in an exhibition game and he was resting at their hotel now, so she had taken the children out to view the sights and allow their father uninterrupted sleep. She also intended to tire them out; she had plans for Viktor later that night. In all their years together, despite her misgivings before they married, he had never strayed. She was more than enough for him, he had told her on their wedding night almost twenty years ago, and Viktor was a man of his word. This meant a lot to her, and she planned for that never to change.
While she was ruminating, Nicholai ran directly into a tall, lean man in rather sombre clothes for an American. Was he a tourist, she wondered, as she chided her son. Then the man turned, stilled for a fraction of a moment, before nodding at her politely and saying, "Excuse me, ma'am."
She froze. That voice. She had once known that voice. It had been the one that welcomed her to Slytherin House when she had been eleven years old. The one that had made her swoon inside all through her sixth year.
She nearly grabbed at him, but Ivanka pulled on her arm.
"Mama?"
Millicent put a quelling hand up and stared after the man. He walked along London Bridge with the slow, measured tread of someone who was tired. It was nothing like the graceful strides she remembered. In the distance, a slender woman with equally silvered hair, plaited behind her, waited for him. He bent slightly to kiss her, just a bit longer and more avidly than was publically appropriate, before taking her hand in his and leading them off the bridge.
For a moment, Millicent could see a flaring black cloak in her mind's eye. Then she shook her head. She must have been mistaken.
This man was silver-haired, bearded, and looked more like a brigand, albeit a well-tailored and polite one, than her old Head of House. His teeth were crooked, but ivory, and his skin was heavily tanned, as well. No, she was being fanciful.
She recalled now the pallid, black-haired, yellow-toothed, singularly taciturn and largely undemonstrative man she had once loved almost as much as her own father, and sighed sadly.
"Mama? What is wrong?"
She smiled down at her two children and took them by the hand, heading in a different direction.
"Let's go find something to eat, and I'll tell you a story about a very special wizard I once knew."
~FINITE~
~*~
post A/N: Why, yes, Severus was using a spot of Legilimency during their more intimate moments. He's a sneaky lad. ;)
Speaking of Scottish:
"Tapadh leibh."
[Thank you.] (this is a very formal phraze, not like the more common Tapadh leat in everyday use.)
"Mo mhùirnìn... Mo cridhe."
[My darling. My heart.]
"Tha mi'g iarraidh tuilleadh."
[I want more.]
"Tuilleadh!"
[More!]
"Seo e!"
[Here it is!]
"Thusa a-nise."
[Your turn now.]
"Siuthad."
[Go on.]
Other tidbits:
Whereas April through June are normally the driest in the Lake Havasu area, one anecdotal account of 1998 (London Bridge Artistic Happening on 29 May 1998) reports: The weather in the days leading up to Friday 29 May was on the whole dreadful. Long story short - it rained until the very day of the festivities. For those who don't know, London Bridge was moved and reconstructed in Arizona beginning in 1968.
Knowing something of the area, as well as its significance to many expatriates, it amused me to set Severus and Minerva's portion of the tale here. The house depicted here is the interior of an actual house I once visited, but not to be taken as a typical dwelling in the region. I just felt it was so very different from most of the UK dwellings with which I'm familiar, so eclectically middle-class American, that I wished to use it here. Minerva, you're not in Craigiebank anymore... (There are McGonagall's in Dundee, as I'm sure there are elsewhere in the UK, but it amuses me to think she hailed from this picturesque area.)
For the edification of those who are curious, particularly those readers who might feel sex ends after forty (young ladies, you have a big and very pleasant surprise coming! You young men - enjoy your blessings to the fullest whilst you're able, that's why Nature was kind, if mysterious), I rec reading: Sexual Response and Aging
The tea which Minerva professes to prefer is a real tea and (for some of us) a nigh-religious experience: Mackwoods Teas.
Finally, for those who wonder, Posology is a specialized field of study involving dosages of medicine.
Completed: 06 February 2008. Posted: 12 March 2008