Close Contrast

close_contrast @ 2008-06-11T20:59:00

2008-06-12T02:00:39Z

Title: Watching the Stars
Summary: After seeing Lily kiss James for the first time, Severus contemplates the worth of his own life.
Rating: PG for suicidal themes
Word Count: 2,491
Spoilers: Well, DH compliant, and mildly spoilerish, but nothing that wasn't seen or speculated pre-DH anyhow.
Pairing: Mentioned Lily/James, unrequited Lily/Severus

Severus sighed. He could hear her footsteps behind him; the sharp click-click of her heels echoing in the stone tower. She was moving slowly, checking every corner for miscreants like himself he supposed. He had five, maybe seven minutes before she reached him. Plenty of time to do the deed if he wanted to. It would take only a few seconds after all…

He did not turn away from the sky to look back at the doorway. There didn’t seem to be a need and the stars were so calming tonight in their apathetic distance. It hardly mattered to them that the world had crashed down around him tonight, that he no longer wished to enjoy their beauty. There were other worlds and other people to sparkle for. How many times had he watched them with Lily content at his side? Lying in the grass next to her enjoying the stars’ reflections in her eyes more than the stars themselves, watching the sky not so much as the waves in her hair. But not now. Never again, probably.

Severus now turned his head to look at the ground, some one hundred feet below. It seemed both an infinite distance, and not very far at all. He had already fallen about as far as he could. Friendless fiend. Insignificant whelp. Even the Slytherins laughed when those idiots played their little “jokes” on him now. Not that they mattered. But he had seen laughter in her eyes, too, that day. Lily had fought humor, pride and her own friends to help him, and how had he repaid her? He sighed again. Perhaps he deserved this from her.

Severus stared hard at the ground. It couldn’t hurt, at lest not for any length of time. He’d probably be unconscious before he ever hit the earth, and his scrawny body wouldn’t do much damage to the grounds. He suddenly realized that for the first time he wasn’t queasy at this height…

“Mister Snape?”

He winced. He had lost track of the time. He still had enough time to jump if he wanted to. She couldn’t catch him from the doorway.

“Half the staff’s looking for you right now, lad. You had us all scared to death.”

Scared for their reputations, no doubt. It wouldn’t do to have a dead student at Hogwarts. And only half the faculty cared enough to even look for him. Well, Slughorn was having his Christmas party tonight. They couldn’t miss that.

“Come on then, Severus. You’ll catch your death of cold out here. Let’s get you someplace warm.”

She moved toward him her heels givin her away. Severus tensed, ready to jump. Apparently she noticed.

“Severus? Come now, lad, you don’t wish to do that.”

“How would you know?” Severus was surprised to hear his voice crack.

“Well, it’s a rather permanent solution to a problem that may yet go away, I should think.”

She was moving toward him again. Slower this time, quieter. Panic began to run through Severus’s mind What if she pulled him away? What if she pushed him over accidentally? Purposefully? He made no secret of loathing her class, and she made no secret of her hatred of all things Slytherin…What if she made him tell the staff where she found him? Or, worse yet, if she gossiped about his situation with the rest of the staff. Or told the other students? What would Lily think of him then?

Lily’s face flooded his mind mind, laughing, jeering at him, yelling at him, shaking her head, crying, kissing Potter under the mistletoe….and Malfoy’s and Black’s faces joined them, shouting, cheering them on, sneering down at him, Dumbledore clapped happily in the background, Slughorn was toasting them all, egging them on, McGonagall –

Her hand grabbed his shoulder as he leaned forward, wrenching him backwards. He stumbled away from the ledge and fell onto the floor. For a moment, Severus felt winded, beaten. He wondered if he had actually gone over the edge, fallen to his death. Then, Professor McGonagall’s face entered his vision for the first time. She was kneeling in front of him, blocking his view of the railing.

“Sorry, lad, but you looked like you were going to go over for a moment there. I’d rather you fall on your ass than to your death.”

Severus turned away from her and said nothing. She had ruined everything. He may not have even jumped, but even then, only he would have known of his failing. She was going to tell the whole school how the little Slytherin didn’t have the courage to commit suicide. Lily would cry, Potter and Black would jeer, the Gryffindor table was chanting ‘Snivellous is a coward! Snivellous is a coward!’

He was being pulled up to his feet and led quietly back to the tower. He felt the warmth of the Castle even before they reached it. It washed over and through his shivering body like a drug. He could hear McGonagall muttering next to him, but didn’t bother making out what she was saying. Something about being glad he was found in time, he supposed. Well, he wasn’t glad. He wanted to kick her, to break away and throw himself over the edge before he could stop himself again. He gave a testing tug, and her grip tensed painfully, telling him that she wouldn’t be letting go under any circumstances. She marched him through the halls like that, holding his arm uncomfortably tight and muttering to herself.

“…don’t know what could be so troubling…third student this week, although closer to the edge than the others…never would have thought it of you…damn party of Horace’s…hope it’s empty…”

They jerked to a stop in front of two gargoyles who opened more to McGonagall’s glare than the unintelligible password she shouted at them. One of them whispered, “Sorry, mate” to Severus as he passed. The staff room was empty, though Severus half suspected that it wouldn’t be for long. Maybe she had already summoned the other teachers to come have a laugh at them and all they had to do was wait here until they arrived. She pushed him gently onto the couch, lit the fire and walked over to the wardrobe. Severus watched her retrieve a blanket and reach inside her robes, find something and bury it inside the blanket. She then wrapped it around his shoulders and sat down on the couch with him.

“Would you like some tea, water, pumpkin juice? A biscuit perhaps?” Severus shook his head slowly after each item. What was she up to? Couldn’t she just get whatever it was over with and let him go on his merry way? He’d swear not to go back to the tower again if that’s what it took. After all, there were other ways…

“I just can’t figure out why you of all people were leaning over the edge of the astronomy tower.” She was looking at the fire, not at him. What was she getting at? Severus squirmed uncomfortably. “Of course you aren’t the merriest lad in your year, but I’ve never thought of you as suicidal. And nothing lately in your grades or public standing to throw you over the edge. What was it that made you go there tonight, Severus?”

There it was. A direct question, her reason for keeping him here. Well, if she thought she would worm out that information she had another thing coming to her. He snorted at the fireplace in response.

“I see.”

She grimaced and Severus smirked a little. He hadn’t thought she would give up so easily, but all the better if she wasn’t going to put up a fight.

“Nothing I could help you with, then?”

For a moment, Severus was startled, but only for a moment. It was an interesting tactic, one that probably worked on emotional Gryffindors, but not on him. As if he would ever accept her help anyway. As if he could…

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything to eat or drink? You were probably out there for hours and that wind is biting.”

“I won’t take your veritaserum, Professor,” he snapped. As if he hadn’t seen what she was doing.

Professor McGonagall laughed.

“Dear lad, you think I could brew veritaserum? I can hardly cope with a simple sleeping draught! And Professor Slughorn has been much too busy with his festivities…” She trailed off in a kind of hiss, and glared at the fire for a few seconds before regaining her composure.

They sat in an awkward silence. Severus began to realize how chilled his body had been. He hadn’t even realized that his fingers were numb until the feeling began to return in little pinpricks across his knuckles. The offer of tea did sound good… He shifted his position to rid himself of that train of thought and felt something hard near his right hand. He shot a furtive look at McGonagall, who was staring at the fireplace again, then quickly dug through the layers of woolen blanket to find whatever it was that was poking his hand. He only had to shift a few folds before he found it, a silver dagger with a bronze handle, tiny and ornate. The blade was jagged and sharp, but small enough to be tucked into his trouser pockets or perhaps his robe. He looked at McGonagall again and saw her eyes flit back over to the fire as he turned. So this was her game. Give him the means to complete his original mission and see if he had the courage to do it. Well, he’d show her! Of course he had the courage! Severus Snape was no coward! He grabbed the dagger and felt McGonagall tense beside him, but she did not move. He smirked and thought of his blood staining her robes, her skin, her reputation, all of her little Gryffindors. If this dagger was hers then it would look like she had dragged him down here and murdered him! Lily would be so disgraced that she’d leave all Gryffindors forever, and he’d be a martyr to all Slytherins, killed by a Gryffindor’s sword! His grip tightened and, without another thought, he closed his eyes, twisted his arm and thrust the blade into his chest.

Severus had always thought that death would be painless, but he hadn’t expected it to be so quick. Especially death by a single stab. She must have poisoned the blade to kill him faster. He was completely numb, his sight gone and his hearing dulled. Maybe he was a ghost already. Maybe he could always be with Lily like this. He’d have to get over his fear of heights, but since he couldn’t technically fall that wouldn’t be hard--

“Well, I must admit I wasn’t expecting that.”

Professor McGonagall’s voice rang loud and clear in his ears. It didn’t make any sense. He was dead. Why could he hear her so clearly?

“Come on. Sit up and open your eyes, Severus. And I’ll thank you to give me that dagger back.”

Tentatively, Severus cracked open one eye and looked around. McGonagall was still sitting next to him on the couch, looking quite calm.

“I’m dead, Professor!” He shouted desperately, “You can’t tell me what to do!”

“I think you’ll find yourself alive yet, Severus, and still my student, at that.”

Slowly, Severus sat up on the couch and looked at the dagger still clutched to his chest. It was in to the hilt, but he couldn’t feel it. There was no blood, no torn skin, no evidence that the blade had done any damage at all. He pulled it out and it was clean. He stared at the tiny sword a minute longer, then handed it over to her.

“A rather special family heirloom. It may cut any material but human skin, and thus serves all the practical purposes of a dagger except that of a weapon.”

“What other practical purposes does a dagger have?”

She smiled and tucked into an inner pocket of her robes.

“Scare tactics, Mister Snape. If one sees a dagger such as this cut through an iron cauldron and then point them in the face, one is typically, may I be frank, scared shitless. However, should said dagger be taken by an enemy, the owner knows that he is in no real danger and may fight without fear of injury.”

Snape nodded slowly, seeing some rather Slytherin logic in this.

“So, you knew I couldn’t hurt myself with it.”

“A perfectly safe test to see if one is capable of committing violence or, in this case, suicide. A test I’m afraid you passed a bit too well.”

Severus nodded again, his head moving up and down without any real thought.

“You - you won’t tell anyone, will you?” His voice cracked again and he fought down a blush.

“Tell someone? Of course I will!” She nearly screamed. “I shall be informing Madame Pompfrey tonight that there is a suicide risk within the castle and to have everything at the ready for a forty-eight hour emergency period. I shall also tell Headmaster Dumbledore to keep his unbiased eye on some of my students this holiday since they have chosen to remain at the school. And I will ask Professor Slughorn to take special care of his students this holiday, not forgetting a single one. Of course, I ask for the last two every year and rarely get either of them.”

Severus stared at his feet. So, at the least, the headmaster, two heads of house and the school nurse would know. Probably the whole school would be laughing at him by lunch tomorrow…

“Or”

Severus looked up at her hopefully, trying to keep his terror from showing on his face.

“Or, we could set up a small camp for you in some unused room near my office. I would still put Madame Pompfrey on the alert, but I wouldn’t need to give her a name. Professors Dumbeldore and Slughorn would not think anything was unusual should I make my requests to them twice this year. I think we could keep this a secret.”

Severus looked back down at the floor and nodded. It wasn’t his first choice, but it was the best option available.

“Alright. We’ll send an elf to get your things later. For now, let’s get you in a bed away from sharp objects, windows, potion ingredients and anything else you might injure yourself with.”

She stood up quickly, and helped Severus to his feet. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, and standing made exhaustion rush through him like a wave. He half suspected she had put a mild sleeping charm on him.

“I hope one day you’ll change your mind about telling me what drove you to suicide tonight,” McGonagall whispered.

Severus nodded numbly and allowed himself to be led out the door and back into the empty hall.

The Masterlist

2008-05-25T01:42:59Z

Umm, I've been able to read a fair number of stories on the master list, but a certain number aren't getatable. Or not for me - I keep getting forbidden access messages. Perhaps it would be worth someone double checking that these links are valid, or saying where stories can be obtained - from the author, from people's private stashes...

Please?
*dismal because SSMM goodness is running low*

New Fic - The Other Patronus

2008-03-25T08:16:42Z

I hope there are still people supporting this pair! I know DH put a bit of a dent in the ship, but there are ways around that - like with new fanfic!

Title: The Other Patronus
Summary: This was the last thing Snape had expected. How long had he felt this way?
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1600
Spoilers: It won't make sense if you haven't read Deathly Hallows.

And here's the link. Hope you enjoy!

New Fic

2007-09-04T22:33:29Z

Hey there! Dunno how many people still check this site, but thought I'd post this anyway. It's a new MM/SS fic, very angsty / depressing / melodramatic, with lots of slightly ludicrous Chess analogies. Lol! Hope you guys enjoy. :-)

Title: Black Knight, White Queen
Characters: Minerva, Severus, Tom, Albus, Harry etc.
Warnings: Nothing much. Canon - compliant.

And here be link....

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3767810/1/Black_Knight_White_Queen

close_contrast @ 2007-08-02T05:47:00

2007-08-01T21:56:28Z

Hi all, I would like to ask you your opinion.

Spoilor DH!!! I have warned you.

I love the DH chapter 30, which Minerva sprinted to protect the Hogwarts. She was a brilliant commander and dualist!!
In that chapter, Minerva caught Snape at the corridor and got him away from Harry. Snape was on the way to Harry( I guess Snape was going to let know Harry the last sercret of the Horcrux. I knew I should not think about "what if" on the story(HP books are JKR's after all) and according to last part of HBP, sadly, we could have guessed that Minerva had not been informed anything about the horcruxes nor Snape's situation by Dumbledore. Additon, No will or note to Minerva from Dumblerore in DH or Harry had not told anything to everyone but his best friends, she had no way to know the truth.
Not knowing the truth about Snape's loyalty, her action was very reasonable. I do not have intention to offend Minerva or JKR, but, if she had not got Snape away from Harry at that point, Snape would have not go to Load Voldemort for the last service, nor let Lord Voldemort kill him. Or even they could have found better way to survive. As a helpless SS/MM shipper am I, I can not bear this idea that Minerva was the one who had triggered Snape's death. It was too horrible to think, but I can not take myself away from this idea.
Do you think Minerva was the one has triggered Snape's death, or not?

Looking for a fic...

2007-07-23T00:03:11Z

Hm, I'm not actually sure I've posted here before. Hi!

Anyway. I was wondering if anyone had all the parts to shadowycat's duel fic. I decided the other day that I couldn't live without reading it again, only to find that the other writer deleted their journal, and what good is a fic if you can only read half of it? So if anyone knows where I can find the missing parts, I'd be really grateful!

Spoilers and Temporary Moderated Status

2007-07-06T16:59:49Z

Hey all,

Although this community doesn't get a great deal of traffic, HP spoiler time is upon us, and I'd like to avoid having members be inadvertently spoiled by posts or by comments within posts.

To that end, I'm placing the community on moderated status (posting and membership) until August 21st

Also, I'm asking that members please be kind to others: After 8/21, when posting material that either contains or may contain spoilers, PLEASE use cut tags and warn people before the cut. If things get too wild with teh spoilage (hah!) I'll extend the moderating time a bit longer.

Additionally, please refrain from posting spoilerish material within any comments.

Thanks!

ETA: Sorry that my post wasn't clear, folks. I wasn't try to prevent community members from posting any kinds of DH spoilers until 8/21. I just wanted to people make sure that any posts that contain DH spoilers have warnings and are placed behind cut tags. The moderated status is just to keep trolls from joining the comm and/or posting obnoxious drive-by spoilers. Again, my apologies for not explaining more clearly.

seeking a fic

2007-06-13T00:47:34Z

There is a fic I read a long while back that I'd like to re-read, but it's not in my current files which means it was on the last computer and its now defunct harddrive. :( It's a SS/MM, with huge h/c elements, wherein Severus returns from the DE's having been discovered to be a traitor. His left arm has to be removed in order to save him. The relationship is achingly slow to develop and not sexually graphic. Does that sound familiar to anyone? I thought it was by logospilgrim, but I believe I'm confusing it with her phenomenal "Whatever I've Done". Any help would be appreciated. So would other fic recs for similar themes, preferably long, any rating is okay. Thanks a bunch!

Fic: Back to Basics, Severus/Minerva, G

2007-06-06T22:36:42Z

Title: Back to Basics
Pairing: Severus/Minerva
Rating: G
Notes: purplefluffycat directed me over here as I wrote this for her. She requested Severus/Minerva and time travel to the days of the founders with additional Godric/Salazar.

Link to my journal

"Forfeit," Severus/Minerva, Hard R

2007-03-11T19:38:07Z

Title: Forfeit
Author: kethlenda
Rating: Hard R
Pairing(s): Severus/Minerva
Word Count: 1960
Summary: Every year, the stakes are the same.
Warnings: snarky dialogue, temporary Dom/sub situation, light bondage
Authors notes: Written for corvus_coronis at wizard_love 2007. Thanks to sionnain for the beta.

athenakt suggested I post this here, so here it is! ♥

"Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..."

The paper airplane sails high above the jubilant Slytherin contingent on the other side of the pitch. It arcs high above the pitch itself, unseen by the two knots of students there: the ones in green, embracing and chanting their own praises, and the ones in red, slowly leaving the field with heads bowed. Minerva's hands are open to catch it; she knows what it will say. Every year, the stakes are the same.

She unfolds the paper and finds its contents to be precisely what she expected. It seems we've trounced you. You know what this means. Meet me in the dungeons at eleven. S.

Minerva purses her lips and nods briskly to herself, then Vanishes the note. It's not the sort of thing she would want the children to find, should it fall from her hand or her pocket on her way back to the castle. She passes her defeated team as she leaves the stands. "You did your best," she says. "I'm proud of you. Better luck next year."

It is ten o'clock when she reaches her rooms in Gryffindor Tower. Plenty of time to change. She knows Severus is celebrating with the Slytherins in their subterranean dormitory, and she feels her lips twist in distaste. It's been too long since Gryffindor last won. Too many years of Severus having the upper hand in their little arrangement. All the same, however, she knows she will enjoy their tryst once it begins. She has learned over the years that tension falls away when the dungeon door closes. It is a welcome respite from the stresses of teaching and of governing her House.

All the same, she wouldn't mind making Severus kneel to her again. She hasn't had the chance, not since Charlie Weasley graduated. She smiles, imagining what he would look like bound--and more importantly, gagged--so that he couldn't make those cutting comments of which he was so fond.

She strips down to her utilitarian beige bra and knickers. They simply will not do. She tells herself that she's not dressing to please Severus, but only to help ease herself into the mood. This mollifies her independent streak. She strips out of the frumpy things and takes a moment to relish the cool evening breeze from the tower window as it caresses her bare skin. It's been a hot day, and a long one, watching her Lions lose in the most drawn-out Quidditch final she's seen in some time. Their fate was sealed early, yet a game cannot end until the Snitch is caught, and she privately wonders whether the Slytherins deliberately ignored the Snitch to prolong the agony.

There is a secret cache in her bottom drawer, beneath the countless repetitions of beige and practical, and she rummages through it now, her hands sliding through silks and satins. She decides on the red shot through with gold thread: bra, knickers, garter belt, and silken stockings all matching. She sets them aside, to wear after she has bathed. Another smile curls her lips as she pictures the expression she will see on Severus's face: desire and wrath mingled as he takes in the sight of the slinky underthings and realizes she has dressed in the colors of her own House. Besides, red goes well with black hair, does it not?

She conjures a bath and sinks into it, letting the aches and pains slip away from her body, savoring the feel of her long hair released from its tight knot and swirling around her in the water. She sighs in uncomplicated joy. She feels rather like her cat-self on a sunny window ledge. She feels young again, reminded that beneath her sober robes and her professorial dignity she is still a red-blooded woman.

After her bath, Minerva dons the red lingerie, then throws a modest robe of tartan over the ensemble. She steps into a pair of sensible black boots; they don't quite go with the lacy things, but the floors in the dungeons are cold.

Thus attired, she descends to what she thinks of as Severus's lair, and knocks at the heavy wooden door. She half-expects to find his apartments empty. Last year, he stayed late at the Slytherin celebrations. She'd had to wait outside his door for nearly an hour and field questions from students who walked by. She'd invented some story about helping him write O.W.L. study guides. She is not sure the same story would fly a second time.

As it turned out, however, it didn't need to. The door creaked open, and Severus nods in acknowledgment. "Come in."

She obeys, and closes the door behind her.

"As usual, you will find that the door is locked to anyone but you and me, and that it and all the walls have been placed under Silencing Charms. We are safe from prying eyes." He has already poured himself a glass of blood-red wine. For her, he takes down a bottle in the shape of a voluptuous woman, and pours two fingers of golden liquid into a much smaller glass for her.

"What is that?" she asks.

"Damiana," he says. "From Mexico. It is believed to have aphrodisiacal properties when consumed by women."

She smiles wryly. "A potion to...ensnare my senses, then?" He blinks, startled, and she chuckles. "Don't think I'm not aware of that bit of purple prose to which you subject your first-year students."

"You are fortunate, Minerva, that our little session has not yet begun, else I would need to punish you for your insolence." Yet there is the slight hint of a smile playing about his lips. She would know if he were truly angry. Most of Scotland would know if he were truly angry. "I assure you, it is not my intent to drug you. I rather hope I can...ensnare you...with my own efforts, and that the drink will merely provide, perhaps, an additional frisson."

She meets his eyes. There is a glimmer there of good humor, but also the smoldering hint of lust. She thinks, as she often does, that he seems much more handsome here in the dungeons. In the sunlight, beneath the bright sky, he always seems awkward and out of place. Here, his pasty complexion, oily hair, and sober black robes seem to fit. It is easy to cast him in a drama played out only behind her own eyelids, in which he is the sinister Byronic villain and she the innocent at his mercy, despite the fact that she is the elder by many years. And he is most certainly a safer actor in this private drama than some of the men Minerva favored in what she calls, with an eyeroll and a theatrical shudder, My Irresolute Youth.

She sips the drink, and feels heat burn its way down to her vitals, feels an answering heat building in...other places. A third heat scorches her cheeks as she says, "I do believe you are right, Severus. The drink will not be required. However, I must admit it is quite tasty."

It seems to take hours for the two to finish their drinks, and for Severus to finally ask, "Shall we begin, then?"

"Yes," says Minerva.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Now, remove your robes."

Minerva sets down the glass and pulls her robes up over her head, then removes the ugly, sensible boots. There is a subterranean chill in the dungeon, but the alcohol seems to warm her skin from within, and she feels only slightly cold as she stands in her underwear and bare feet.

Severus raises one eyebrow when he sees the color scheme. "You fly the banner of a loser," he says.

She smirks. "I'm no more a fair-weather fan than you are when my side has a good run of it."

His lips twitch and for a moment she half-expects him to laugh, but he controls his reaction and keeps his expression stern. "Did I say you could look me in the eyes like that?"

"No," she replies, and when she sees the eyebrow lift again, she corrects herself. "No, sir."

He nods. "Lie down on the bed."

She obeys, stretching out comfortably on her back atop the emerald-colored duvet. He takes his time tying first one wrist and then the other to the curlicues of the headboard; she watches his potion-stained fingers weave the ropes this way and that, pulling them tighter.

"I don't know why you don't just use Incarcerous like normal wizards," she can't resist saying. "Sir."

"Any fool can brandish his wand about and conjure up a serviceable rope. To do the thing properly, however, requires skill."

She'd known he would say something of the sort, and within the parameters of their game, she loves the acid edge to his voice that only annoys her in real life. She relaxes into the bonds as Severus finishes the last few knots.

He straddles her, one leg to either side of her chest, one hand on the headboard helping to support his weight. He opens his robes with the other hand. He is nude beneath his robes, and already hard. "I think I have just the thing for that overactive mouth of yours," he says.

Minerva knows what he wants, and complies. She darts out her tongue and licks him up and down, and when he presses impatiently against her lips, she takes him into her mouth. It's difficult to do a truly good job of it in this awkward position and without the use of her hands. Then again, the simple knowledge that she cannot be perfect under these circumstances is balm to her in some inexplicable way, as though the weight of having to be good and wise and competent has been lifted from her. She is only herself, flawed yet desired anyway, and she loves this.

Severus groans as she sucks him, and for a moment she thinks he will finish like that, but instead he pulls out of her mouth, then removes his robes. He explores between her thighs with his fingers, finding her wet and ready, and nods, as though confirming a hunch. He covers her with his body, hot and alive but so thin that she bites back an exhortation to eat once in a while, damn it. His stringy hair falls around her face like a curtain as he thrusts into her. She arches from the bed to meet his motion. Her desire is still building when he chokes out a great groan and spills inside her.

He takes a few moments to catch his breath after pulling out, then smiles. She is pleased to see him so relaxed, knowing he rarely allows himself to unwind enough to smile.

"You've been a good girl," he says. He strokes her tangled hair, and caresses her clit with the other hand, circling deftly and ever harder until she peaks, shuddering beneath his hand, and lets herself fall into delicious lassitude.

Severus rises, tidying himself and slipping back into his robes. He unties the knots that bind Minerva to the headboard. He turns his back then, ostensibly fiddling with an unraveling thread in his garments, so that she cannot see his expression. "I'm rather glad," he says, "that the final match was not Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff."

"Indeed," she says. She wonders if he's smiling again, but she can sense that he's putting Severus aside and stepping back into Snape, and so there's little chance he'll let her see if she is right. "That would make for a rather dull June, would it not?"

FIC: Means of Atonement, Snape/McGonagall, NC17

2007-02-21T15:43:25Z

Title: Means of Atonement
Author: Chastity Pureheart, chazpure
Pairing: Snape/McGonagall
Rating: NC17
Length: ~6,500
Warnings: wanking, humiliation, student/teacher, (Severus is in his Sixth Year at the start of this), h/c.
Disclaimer: The characters and the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling; I'm only playing in her sandbox.
Notes: Written as a very, very belated birthday present for bethbethbeth. Cross-posted to my journal and snape_rarepairs.
Summary: Severus Snape found himself terribly distracted during Transfigurations class.

Means of Atonement

Severus sat at the back of the Transfigurations classroom, lost in his own misery.

Potter and Black were passing some bit of trash back and forth, down in the middle of the room. Lupin and Evans and Rosier were all bent over their desks, taking notes in the front row. Crabbe was staring blankly out the window.

McGonagall...was tormenting him.

She had on a new robe, lustrous green velvet with narrow bands of tartan bordering the neckline and edging the sleeves. She was obviously pleased with it, as she had an extra little bounce in her step and a touch more flourish to her gestures. She was explaining the more intricate steps involved in transfiguring one living form into another and back again, but the lecture was completely lost on him.

He was hard. Achingingly, weepingly, miserably hard - and every time she looked in his general direction, he just wanted to die.

God, she was gorgeous!

He couldn't help imagining himself mastering some fiendishly clever bit of transfiguration - and the light in her eyes as she said, "Oh, well done, Mr. Snape! Severus..."

He bit back a whimper.

His cock was going to explode if he didn't do something about it, and soon.

McGonagall gave an intricate wave of her wand, and the hedgehog on her desk suddenly became a cockatoo. It blinked at the assembled class, then stretched its wings with a raucous cry.

She was saying something about changing the nature of something or other, but Severus was busy studying the curve of her lower lip and the swell of her breasts beneath the rich velvet.

It wasn't helping. Every time she moved, his cock twitched.

Carefully, he pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket, passed it over his nose, then made as if to tuck it away in his robe. His hand slipped down to his trouser pocket, and he wriggled his fingers through the threadbare lining. His fingers were strong enough to part the worn seam fairly easily, and he dug his hand into his pants, tucking the handkerchief over the head of his cock as carefully as he could. The contact nearly made him come, then and there, especially as McGonagall had just begun discussing morphological distinction, in her sexy Scottish voice.

He took a deep breath and looked around to see if anyone was watching him, but the rest of the students were either paying attention (a small percentage), or intent on their own pursuits. He shifted his hand and took hold of his cock, watching McGonagall intently, then began to stroke it, very cautiously.

She was so bloody fine! He imagined her praising him again, resting her hand on his shoulder, then smiling at him in invitation.

He was very self-possessed in his fantasy and asked her for a private tutoring session. She drew him into her rooms and let down her hair - and then she was kissing him...holding him against her warm body, and he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, and he could smell her perfume and heather and a rich, musky scent that surely meant she wanted exactly what he wanted - and his hand sped up as he bit down one knuckle to keep from crying out - and she was assigning their reading and an essay for next class - and reaching down to open his flies and - oh, dear God TOUCHING HIM - and it was so good and so right - and he yanked on his cock, because if he didn't come soon he was going to DIE and -

"Class dismissed. Mr. Snape? Please stay behind for a moment."

The sound of his name on her lips was too much. White light blinded him and his cock nearly jerked out of his grasp, a burst of hot spunk filling and overflowing the old handkerchief and spilling over his hand, as he fought to keep his entire body from shaking with the intensity of his release.

"Mr. Snape?"

Oh...fuuuuuuuuuck!

He was trembling all over and felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment, but he managed to nod.

A couple of students eyed him curiously as they filed out. Lupin frowned, but Black and Pettigrew seized his arms and hustled him away.

Soon Severus was alone with Professor McGonagall.

She set her pointer down and sighed, then marched up the aisle to stand before him.

"Mr. Snape, I will see you in detention, this evening after supper. Nine o'clock."

"Deten-- but Professor!" he protested, "Why? I--"

"I think we both know why, Mr. Snape. Run along to your next class now, if you please." Her lips were pursed into a very thin line.

He flushed beet red and looked down at his desk.

"Hurry to class now," she said crisply. "You don't want to be late for Charms."

Mumbling something he hoped would pass as appropriate, Severus gathered up his books and fled.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Professor McGonagall was waiting, when he returned to her classroom after the evening meal. He hadn't been able to eat much, and he hung his head, lank hair obscuring his flushed face, as he reported for his detention. She pointed him to a seat in the front row. As he sat down, she warded the classroom doors.

"Now, Mr. Snape, perhaps you can explain to me why you found it advisable to indulge your no-doubt overactive hormones in the middle of my class, during a particularly important lecture?" she held a pointer in her hands, and her knuckles tensed as she gripped it.

Severus ducked his head even lower in mortification and muttered something that might have been an apology.

"Muttering at me is not going to be sufficient, young man," she snapped. "I am quite aware of the symptoms of adolescence and their frequently lamentable effects on students - particularly young men." She folded her arms and he could feel her glaring at him. "However, I believe you have achieved the distinction of being the first student to allow those effects to overwhelm his dignity, courtesy and common sense - to the point of actually masturbating in my classroom, during class!

He wanted to sink though the floor. He slunk down in his seat, head lowered between his hunched shoulders and looked up at her bleakly through his scraggly hair.

McGonagall had her hands on her hips and a very worrying expression on her face. She watched him for a few moments, then nodded decisively.

"Sit up straight, Mr. Snape," she directed.

He reluctantly straightened in his seat.

"Now then, I do not care to have a repeat of today's performance in the future," she said.

"No, Professor," he mumbled.

"To that end, I believe it would be best for you to get all such disruptive impulses out of your system. Open your robe, Mr. Snape," she directed.

He shot her a sharp look, but obediently unbuttoned his worn black robe.

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly. "Unbutton your trousers."

"Professor?!?" he couldn't believe his ears, but McGonagall was watching him with an implacable expression on her face. She nodded sharply.

"Your trews, Mr. Snape," she said. "Open them up.

"I...I-- Professor," He was bright red with embarrassment again and trying not to whine, but she merely shook her head.

"You are going to learn control of your impulses, Mr. Snape, if I have to hex it into you. Now, unbutton your trousers!"

His hands were shaking so hard he could barely slip the buttons free, and his face felt like it was on fire. He'd used a cleaning charm as soon as he'd left class earlier, but his pants were worn and faded, and displaying them to her scrutiny as he sat here in disgrace was almost more than he could bear. He swallowed hard and finished unbuttoning his flies, wanting to die. His treacherous cock twitched.

"Very good. Now, take yourself in hand."

Oh, God! This was nothing like his fantasies - it was a nightmare!

"Professor!"

"Mr. Snape! You will do as I say, or I will take every last point from Slytherin and inform your Head of House exactly what you have done to deserve it!"

A hot tear slipped from his eye and he felt his sinuses filling. He sniffed hard and bit down on his lip, but he slipped one hand into his pants and curled his fingers around his firming cock.

Professor McGonagall paced up and down the aisle, then stopped to stand slightly behind him. "From your usual seat at the back of my classroom, I imagine you have an excellent vantage point, Mr. Snape. Such a convenient location from which to ogle your classmates, isn't it?" The sarcasm was sharp in her voice, and Severus cringed. "So, who was it today? Whose charms were so very distracting that your hormones overcame your common sense? Miss Goyle, perhaps? She's a healthy young lady, with a very well-developed...sense of fashion, I'm told. No? Very well, one stroke."

Eyes wide, he shot her a panicked look.

"One stroke of your hand, Mr. Snape! You saw fit to do this in my classroom, so you are going to do it! Smartly now!"

Severus screwed his eyes tightly shut and slid his hand about an inch on his cock. Oh, God! He wanted to disappear, or die, whichever was simpler.

"Very good, Mr. Snape. Now...perhaps Miss Lorenze? Her long, dark hair is very silky, isn't it? And she has a lovely, trim figure." McGonagall's voice moved around him, but he kept his eyes shut. "No? One stroke. Hm...Miss Bartleby had a rather attractive new jumper, I noticed," she said, "rather snug, but then she has nothing to hide, has she?" She paused in front of him. "One stroke, Mr. Snape."

Lost in mortification, he obediently moved his hand at her commands. His treacherous cock was swelling, not at the thought of his classmates as she extolled their virtues, but at the lilt of her voice and the sound of her robes swishing as she paced back and forth. He sniffled a bit, which was a mistake, as the scent of her rushed in and seemed to jolt right to his groin.

McGonagall was still working her way through the female sixth year Transfiguration students, ordering him to stroke himself after each one she named, as he gave no verbal response.

"I see you're a young man of very particular tastes, Mr. Snape. So many charming young ladies - are none of them to your liking? What about Miss...Evans?"

Severus bit down hard on his lip to keep from moaning. Evans had indeed occupied his nightly fantasies for quite some time, until he had noticed how incredibly enticing Professor McGonagall's smooth skin and flashing eyes were.

"Auburn hair and such a lovely complexion, and Miss Evans has an excellent mind as well! A very charming girl," McGonagall said, standing right beside him. "I've seen her sunning herself out by the lake, in some new Muggle outfit for swimming. Have you seen it? A bitty little top in shiny green and hardly any bottoms to speak of at all! We'd have called that scandalous, when I was a girl," she purred.

Severus couldn't help it. The thought of McGonagall as a young girl, sunning herself in a bikini was too much. He let out a deep groan.

"Ah, yes. One stroke, Mr. Snape."

He tried not to whimper as he gave one hard stroke to his quivering prick. He couldn't hold out much longer...but how could he..? ...right in front of her...oh, God...

"Hm...then, of course, there's young Mr. Lupin..." McGonagall continued thoughtfully.

His eyes flew open, and he stared at her in disbelief.

"A very handsome young fellow. It's a pity he's not healthier, but he has beautiful eyes, don't you think? And such a sweet, low voice. I should have him read aloud in class more often. He's gotten quite a bit taller this year, too--"

"I'm not a bloody poofter," Severus ground out, clutching his cock as if it were trying to escape.

"Ah, a response at last! Well, let's go back over the young ladies, then," McGonagall said smugly. "Miss Evans in her sun suit seemed to elicit a bit of reaction. Is it her shining auburn locks that so distracted you this afternoon, Mr. Snape? Did you imagine playing with her hair? Touching her smooth skin, enticing her away to some secluded place..."

"N-No!" he finally gasped.

"No? One stroke, then, Mr. Snape!" she snapped.

"I-- It's-- it's you" he nearly wailed, barely managing to shift his hand.

"Me?" McGonagall sounded dumbfounded. "I see. Very amusing, Mr. Snape. One stroke!"

"No! No, it's you! It's always you," he gasped, stroking himself.

"Is it? And do you imagine my withered old body, Mr. Snape? My dried-up lips and my sharp, cat-like teeth?" She sounded angry and bitter, now. "Do you give yourself nightmares, thinking what horrible things I might do to you? One stroke!"

"No!" he nearly sobbed. "No, you're not old--you're--beautiful. So--fuuu-- beautiful! Your eyes...your voice..." He was stroking himself freely now, not waiting for her command. "Your voice is...magical. When you say my name..." He wasn't making any sense, but that didn't matter.

She had gone silent, but he couldn't stop now. "And you're so--smart, so powerful...oh, God!" His hand was flying up and down on his precome-slicked cock, and tears were running down his face, but he had to do this or die. "I...I want to kiss you, hold you...t-touch you...oh! PROFESSOR!" He felt his bollocks draw up and every nerve in his body was stretched to the breaking point, as he pulled hard on his cock one more time and came.

His whole body spasmed as his cock shot burst after burst of hot spunk out over his hand, onto his opened trousers and his shirt and the desk. He kept stroking, sobbing with relief as his orgasm went on and on, as if he were trying to turn himself inside out through his cock.

At last the spasms eased and he slumped back in his seat, trembling and sweat-soaked. Tears still trickled from his eyes. He sniffed hard and tried to swallow the enormous lump in his throat, as he lay there, sodden, sticky and utterly humiliated.

A gentle tingling sensation passed over him, and he felt the wet stickiness disappear from his groin, his hand and his shirt. Fabric rippled at his crotch and he snatched his hand back as his trousers did themselves up again. The mild tingle passed over his face, clearing away tears, sweat and snot.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder. "Mr. Snape?"

He opened his eyes and blinked at her. She cupped his face in her hand and slowly bent down to kiss him, very gently, on the forehead. "I'm sorry, m'dear...but...thank you." Her hand stroked his cheek, then slipped through his hair, sliding it back from his face.

He reached up and caught her hand in his, then slid it up to catch her face and pull her back down to him. He was clumsy, he knew, but he pressed his lips to hers with all the fervor his weeks of fantasies had given him.

She didn't pull back.

He stumbled to his feet, trying to keep hold of her, keep his lips pressed against hers. It wasn't like the fantasies; he felt all knees and elbows, his limbs too long and uncoordinated to do as he bade them, but he managed to stand up and wrap one arm around her waist.

She was warm and firm and smelled so wonderful! His lips moved against hers, not quite certain how this was done, when suddenly her lips opened on an almost silent moan, and he knew he must have done something right. He opened his mouth and caught her upper lip between his, daring to flick his tongue against the sweet plumpness and catch a trace of her flavour - sweet and spicy, like honeyed tea and cinnamon.

His cock was springing back to attention, but he was intent on her lips, on the soft gasps she made, on her hands, which had moved to his back and were rubbing tiny circles on his sharp shoulder blades. Greatly emboldened, he licked at her mouth, testing, and caught his breath in amazement when her tongue slid softly against his.

Oh, God! Perfect, perfect, perfect...

They had somehow fetched up against the chalkboard, and he leaned into her a little, his heart pounding fit to break his ribcage at the feel of her firm breasts under her velvet robes, pressing against his chest. He kissed her harder, his mouth open and insistent, and the sudden hunger with which she kissed him back made his head swim. Her hands ran up and down his back, tangled in his long hair and pulled him closer. She shifted under him and a velvet-draped knee slid between his legs to brush against the bulge in his trousers.

He shoved his hips forward, frotting his hardness against the warm velvet, as he slid his tongue into her mouth, tracing all around its mysterious wet depths. He moved his hands to her waist, then up to cup her breasts, as he began rocking steadily against her.

Suddenly her hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back.

"No. No, we can't...Mr. Snape, stop. We must stop. We cannot do this."

He stared at her in confusion, then reached out and pulled her to him again. He kissed her cheek, then the smooth skin beneath her jaw. "Why?" he murmured. "I'm of age," he said more confidently than he felt. He kissed her neck, pushed the collar of her robe aside and kissed the hollow of her throat, delighting in the tiny gasp and moan she made. "Back home...most of my mates from primary school are working, full time, men's work. Jackie got his girlfriend up the duff last year; they're married now, with another one on the way. He's six months younger than me, too." He kissed her lips again, trying to stop any protest she might make.

She kissed him back, then pulled her face away. "It's not fair to either of us, Mr. Sn-- Severus. I am your professor--"

"Not much longer," he argued. "It's nearly the end of term, and I-- I won't take Transfig next year. I don't need the NEWT; I'm taking Potions, Defense, Herbology, Runes, and Arithmancy. That's plenty." He tried to kiss her again, but she pushed away.

"You are still a student at Hogwarts, and I am a professor, and a Head of House. I have my position to think of, my dear, and you should be thinking of your career." She stroked his hair gently. "Finish your studies, take your NEWTs, and then...then perhaps we'll see. If you're still interested...but by then, you may find you fancy some young lady who is much more charming than your old Transfigurations teacher."

He stared at her, all his burgeoning hopes suddenly dashed. "Your position...you're ashamed of me, then?"

"Of course not, Severus! I only meant that I must not compromise myself with a student while I am a teacher here!"

"No, you wouldn't want that. Wouldn't want to be seen with a student. Especially not a Slytherin...not a half-blood Slytherin--especially not me!" He pulled back from her, wounded and betrayed.

"Severus!"

"One day you won't be ashamed of me! I'll show you. I'll do things your precious, poncy Gryffindor pets can't even imagine! And one day I'll show you all!" He turned and ran, slamming the heavy door behind him.

Minerva sank down onto her chair and stared after him. "Dear Merlin, what have I done?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

She knew he had been keeping dangerous company, even before he left Hogwarts, but it wasn't until Dumbledore told her that they had a spy in place and Severus Snape returned to teach potions, looking very distant and tetchy, that she put two and two together. They never spoke of anything but their classes, students, and grading assignments, but sometimes she caught him looking at her with an expression so bleak it wrung her heart.

The night after the Potters died, she returned from her long vigil at the Dursleys' doorstep and went looking for him. She found him in the old chapel, slumped in a stone pew. He was exhausted, white as a sheet, his eyes red and mouth set in a grim line.

"Severus?"

"She's dead," he said dully. "All the sodding spying and plotting and planning and spell-casting...and she's still dead.

Pushing her own grief to the back of her mind, she sat beside him and reached for his hand. It was cold as ice. "She was a wonderful person, Severus. A bonny lass, bright and brave. I shall miss her sorely." She forebore to mention James, as she knew they had never truly reconciled.

"I tried to warn them," he said thickly, "for all the good it did. I tried."

"I'm sure you did, m'dear." She slipped an arm around him, shocked to realize he was thinner now than he'd been as a scrawny sixteen-year-old. "Come along, now. Come with me." She rose, urging him to his feet and led him back to her rooms.

She tucked him into the corner of her comfortable old sofa and poured him a tot of whisky, as well as one for herself. She sat beside him, gripping his icy hand and sipping the neat spirit.

He took a drink. "It's my fault. Fucking prophecy, fucking 'diversionary tactics,' fucking 'calculated risks'!"

She wasn't sure what he was referring to, but she gripped his hand tightly. "Severus Snape, stop that at once! It is most certainly not your fault! He-Who-Mus...he was an evil, evil man, who gave himself over to darkness and would have destroyed everything that makes our world worth the living in it! We've been fighting his darkness for years, and we've all known loss, pain and regret, but it is his fault, not yours, that poor Lily is gone!"

He drank again and grimaced. "At least...at least you had the sense to... You were well shut of me, years ago," he said, self-hatred heavy in his voice.

She smiled sadly. "No, Severus...never that." She gave a short, rueful laugh. "Did you know, I waited for you, after your NEWTs? All that summer, I thought, perhaps he'll come back, perhaps he'll write. Foolish of me, of course," she said, patting his hand. "For a while, I'd persuaded myself you might still have harboured feelings for your old teacher."

He looked up at her and said bleakly, "I did."

"Oh, Severus!" She put an arm around his too-thin shoulders. "However did we come to this?" She gently stroked his hair, but he pulled away from her.

Her hand stilled in midair, and she suddenly felt very foolish, until he flinched and said, "Don't! You don't know what I've done, what I am! If you did..." He gave a bitter, mirthless laugh, then set his glass down on the table and fumbled with his cuff. He yanked the sleeve back and thrust his left arm in front of her.

A blackened mark marred the paleness of his skin - a skull with a snake twining through its mouth.

She could not suppress a gasp.

"My fault," he said again, quietly. "I went to him at the first sign of his interest. I though he could teach me, show me new magic, make me...powerful," he laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. "I was a fool. The Dark Lord--do you know the things I did for him? To gain his favour? God, the horrible things I brewed..." He buried his face in his hands.

Minerva gently pulled his sleeve back down and took his hand in both of hers. "But you came back to us...to Albus. I know he has always trusted you, Severus. Whatever you did, surely you have atoned for it!"

"For murdering Lily?" He looked at her in outrage. "She was my friend! What can atone for that? I came back when I realized the Dark Lord was utterly mad! I begged Dumbledore to do something, anything! I thought he would take my information and send me to Azkaban, and that would have been welcome - Merlin, it would have been better! Better for everyone!" He winced and drained the last of the whisky.

"Instead...he sent me back. He gave me orders to spy, said I owed it to those I had harmed to help bring him down." Severus grimaced. "Then one day he sent for me and told me he had just heard a prophecy - and he told me to give the prophecy to the Dark Lord! He said we had a chance to force him to action on 'our terms,' that we might finally be able to defeat him, once and for all! So I did as he asked, and both my masters were well pleased!" he said bitterly, shuddering again at the memory. "I didn't even find out until months later that Lily was pregnant! Dumbledore swore he would protect the families who fit the prophecy, that they'd be safe, but she's dead, and it's my fault!"

Her heart ached for her broken lad. "Och, Severus..." she reached for him and pulled him into her arms, his rigid resistance notwithstanding. She could feel the shame and revulsion in him as he hid his face against her shoulder. "I know you did all you could," she murmured against his soft, lank hair, "all anyone could ask and more, to fight against...him. Albus does not give his trust lightly, and he trusts you. Oh, Severus, my dear, my dear!" She held him tightly.

He shuddered in her arms. "She's still dead," he said harshly. "and God knows how many others."

"Aye," she said, her grief resurging. "And we'll mourn them." She leaned her head against his and let her own tears fall, rocking him gently as they both wept.

If she had not known him so well, she might have missed the brief moment between his surrender to the comfort of her arms and the resurgence of his prickly pride. But she had known him a good twelve years, man and boy, and she felt the slight tension returning to his shoulders before he was aware of it himself. With the impetuous courage - or foolhardy recklessness, he would have called it - that marked all of Godric's children, she cast caution to the winds, cupped his cheek in her hand, and kissed him, gently but insistently.

He stiffened, turning in her arms, and his eyes flew open wide, but he did not draw back.

She stroked his hair with her other hand and gently nipped at his thin lips, which slowly, hesitantly, parted for her. She tasted the fine whisky that flavoured his mouth, as she traced the narrow seam with the tip of her tongue. His arms found their way around her waist, and his long-fingered hands traced their way up and down her spine, making her shiver and pull him closer.

He pulled back just far enough to stare into her eyes. His were as red as she knew hers must be. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then her eyelids, before returning to bestow a very gentle kiss on her lips. "Minerva..." He kissed her again, so softly the physical touch was nearly lost in the current of electricity between them. "I thought..." he began, then stared at her, hopelessly lost.

"I am no longer your teacher, Severus, nor are you a student," she murmured, tracing the sharp lines of his face with her thumb. "I did wait for you..."

He stared at her, wonderingly. "Why?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Because I love you, m'dear," she said, kissing him gently once more. "I loved you as the wee scrappy laddie you were, determined to fight the whole world for your place in it. I loved you as the brilliant young student, so intent on getting everything just perfectly right. I even loved you as that rude lad, all nose and nerves," she smiled, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose, "who couldn't keep his hands out of his breeks in my class." She kissed his lips again. "Did you think I'd have let any other student dare to kiss me, Severus? You weren't the first who tried, nor by far the last. If I'd had an ounce more daring, or you an ounce more persistence, we might well have been wed these five years gone!"

He snorted softly, but his arms came hesitantly around her and he returned her kisses. "I told you," he murmured, "I'm not the boy you knew."

"Nay, ye're not," she said, "and believe me, I'm glad." She kissed him passionately this time, clinging to him and sliding her tongue over his lips.

He groaned into her mouth, and his tongue flickered over hers. His hands ran over her back, searchingly at first, then more confidently, and suddenly he pulled her to him almost fiercely and kissed her harder.

She leaned into him, pushing him down onto the couch, nudging him with hands and hips until he was prone beneath her, then pulled her legs up, draping herself over his lean form as thoroughly as she could manage. She stroked the lank hair back from his face and kissed his brow, the bridge of his nose, its tip, and the corner of his mouth before reclaiming his lips.

As they kissed, his hands stroked the soft velvet of her robes and she arched against him, feeling the pleasurable caress thrumming through her like a purr. She nuzzled his cheek and rubbed her face against his lightly stubbled chin, then planted little lapping kisses from his jaw down along his throat.

With a murmured spell, his buttons slipped free and his layers peeled back far enough to reveal a spray of inky hair on pale, sallow skin. She tucked her head beneath his chin and nipped lightly at the tender skin in the hollow of his throat.

He groaned and clutched at her, and she felt the proof of his arousal nudging her thighs. She licked lower, his buttons retreating as her lips and tongue advanced. She slid one hand ahead, an advance guard, and found him on alert. As she cupped her palm over the bulge in his trousers and rubbed gently, he swore under his breath.

"Min--Minerva!"

"Yes, love?" she replied, pausing the attention she was devoting to his right nipple.

"I-- Are you..." He seemed uncharacteristically lost for words. Finally, he caught her face in his hands and asked plaintively, "Bed?"

She chuckled. "You forget my specialty, love," she said, drawing her wand and giving it a small flourish. The couch squirmed beneath them, stretching and softening until they were sprawled on a wide bed covered in soft pillows and a silken coverlet.

He sighed in pleasure and stretched beneath her, spreading his arms to the sides and closing his eyes with an expression wavering between bliss and grief.

She kissed his eyelids, then resumed her gentle rubbing, gratified when he groaned loudly and threw his head back.

His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her tight against him, long, sensitive hands stroking over her velvet robe, caressing the small of her back and cupping her bottom. His eyes opened and he kissed her again, hungrily.

A whisper of thought was enough to undo his flies. His cock sprang forward, tenting the fine linen of his drawers. She slipped the soft fabric down, drawing him out, and curled her fingers around the firm shaft. He gave a small gasp against her lips and his hands tightened on her rear.

She stroked him carefully, slowly running her hand up the length of him, as her fingers learned every ridge and bump, the springiness of his pubic hair, the softness of his skin. It had been longer than she cared to admit, since she had held a man like this, but from the sounds he made, it was clear that she remembered the way of it, well enough to please him. She let her nails graze along the great pulsing vein and felt him shiver. She cradled his bollocks and rolled them between her fingertips, then murmured another spell and felt her palm fill with something warm and wet. She wrapped her hand around him again and stroked the slick stuff up along his shaft, flattening her palm and rubbing small circles over the sensitive glans.

Severus bucked beneath her, then suddenly clutched her hard and rolled them over. His hands moved swiftly, drawing up her robes and running along her quivering thighs. His mouth was on hers and his dark eyes smouldered as his fingers slid over the silk of her drawers, stroking her gently.

She was liquid fire, burning for him. She snapped out a word and her robes parted. He buried his face in her chemise, and she pulled it away, wanting his lips on her flesh. She drew her knees up and spread her legs, cradling him between them, feeling the heated weight of his prick pressing against her damp curls.

His fingers tensed, then ripped the flimsy silk aside and carded through her pubes. "Minerva," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

"Yes. Severus, yes, m'love," she answered him, reaching down to take hold of him again and guide him. She shifted her hips and felt the blunt head of his prick slip between her lips. Another slight shift and he slid in, filling her at last.

Severus groaned and fastened his mouth onto her breast, as he slowly began thrusting into her. She wrapped her legs around him, finding the smooth softness of his fine woolen robes against her calves an enticing contrast to the delicious heat and friction of the bare flesh between them. It made her feel young and wicked, making love half-clothed like this.

His tongue rasped over her nipple, sending a tingle down her spine. She ran her hands up his back and raked her fingers through his hair, grazing his scalp with her nails. She rolled her hips against him and tightened her muscles, gripping him firmly and savouring the waves of pleasure that surged through her at every thrust. His breath caught and he began to move faster, a hint of desperation in his quick, shallow thrusts. Her thighs tensed and she held him snugly, slowing him and pulling him deeper into her, until she felt the fullness of his bollocks trapped between them and let him retreat again. She gentled him and set the pace to her liking - steady and solid, a long, slow slide home and back again, over and over and over again.

He was mumbling something against her chest - it might have been prayer or profanity or perhaps only her name - chanted to the rhythm of their coupling. She was only vaguely aware of the sounds she was making - gasps and groans and words her students would never have believed she knew, and his name, over and over again, the sibilants and liquid r blending into hisses and purrs that were second nature to her.

The slow spiral of heat deep inside her flared suddenly, and she clutched him fiercely with arms, legs, teeth and cunt, then snarled and jerked him roughly, pulling him even deeper into her. He growled and kissed her, biting her lips and gasping as her nails raked him. He sped up again, and this time she welcomed it, thrusting her hips up to meet him as he drove into her, tightening her legs where they were wrapped around him and urging him on. A spasm jolted through her, then another, and another. She threw her head back and yowled.

Severus was red-faced and dripping sweat. He bit his lip as she spasmed around him, then gave a shout of his own and gripped her shoulders hard as she felt him spend. The tremors of her orgasm were still fading when he gave one final gasping sigh and slipped free, then fell down beside her, panting.

She savoured the last few shudders, then stretched, languorously slow. She rolled her shoulders, smiling at the sting of bite-bruises and beard-burn, then shifted and turned onto her side, watching him. His breathing was gradually slowing. He ran one hand through his sodden hair and covered his eyes with his forearm.

She reached out and brushed his hair back, then gently pulled his arm away and kissed him softly on the forehead. He blinked, and she could see the warring emotions in his eyes. Before his comfortable, familiar cynicism or self-recrimination could win the battle, she quickly kissed the tip of his nose. "Shh, now. None of that," she added, laying a finger over his lips, which had just parted to speak. "Let it be, my dear. Let it be what it is." She scooted closer and cuddled against him, tucking her head into the hollow of his shoulder and wrapping one arm around him. "No fretting, no worrying, no thinking. Not now. Just hold me, and let it be."

He swallowed hard and slowly shifted to curl his arm around her. "Minerva," he murmured softly, "I can't believe..." He squeezed her, suddenly. "I love you," he said, his voice so soft she could barely hear it over their breathing.

"And I you, my dear. I'll always love you," she answered. Her body was so relaxed that she felt herself drifting. One of the pillows turned into a fluffy blanket in her grasp, and she managed to draw it over both of them. She wriggled comfortably in the cradle of his arm and closed her eyes.

"Don'...leave...me," he said, his voice sluggish with sleep as well.

"Never, my love," she promised.

The steady beat of his heart gently lulled her to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~
*~The End~*
~*~*~*~*~*~

Minerva/Severus fic

2006-12-17T21:15:24Z

Category: Harry Potter
Title: Keeping Nightmares at Bay
Genre: Angst/General
Rating: Fiction Rated: K+ (PG)
Summary: Minerva knows somethings about his childhood but she never
knew this...

URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2842763/1/

Whisky and Minerva

2006-12-07T07:25:46Z

My first post here -- hope you enjoy! :)

Title: Whisky and Minerva
Author: Persephone Yavanna the Entwife (theentwife)
Pairing/Characters: Severus and Minerva
Wordcount: 650
Rating: G for gen (in other words, completely work-safe!)
Warnings: None, unless one hates cats
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and assorted others have rights to create derivative works within the Potterverse, but I am not one of those licensees, unfortunately. Rather not be sued for playing with the characters, though . . . not making a profit here, just exploring the characters and situations created by the esteemed Ms. Rowling.
Summary: Severus loathed shortbread, porridge and all things Scottish -- except whisky. And Minerva.
Author Notes: First time writing fanfiction, Potterverse or otherwise. This is the first of the stand-alone vignettes from my NaNoWriMo 2006 project to be "published" on LiveJournal.

Whisky and Minerva

For romancingwizard 's Holiday Challenge

2006-12-04T18:27:41Z

Author/Artist: shadowycat
pairing: MM/SS
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Prompt: White Fur Trim

Another one

2006-12-01T04:26:51Z

Another little one-shot. I hope no one minds. :-)

Title: The Scent Of Coffee
Warnings: Canon character-death, angst
Pairing: Hinted SS/MM
Rating: G
Summary: "You don't have to have loved a person to miss them when they're gone..." After the death of her oldest friend and mentor, Minerva remembers his murderer.
Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3267043/1/

Severus/Minerva ficlet

2006-11-25T10:19:22Z

Hey guys... I'm new to this community, and I just thought I'd offer this small ficlet which I originally posted on ff.net. Hope you enjoy. :-)

Title: If Cats Could Cry
Pairing: Retrospective SS/MM
Rating: G
Warnings: Character death, assumed unpleasant situations

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3176210/1/

A small bit of SS/MM

2006-11-14T23:10:44Z

This piece was written for a challenge at the het/romance community romancingwizard. I thought it might be appropriate to put a link here, too. :)

Challenge Eight: An Evening with Severus Snape
Title: Slytherin Romance
Author: shadowycat
Main wizard: Severus Snape
Characters: Minerva McGonagall
Rating/Warnings: G/PG
Genres: Romance
Word count: Exactly 500
Prompt: The sound of his voice

Slytherin Romance

Young Severus/Minerva links

2006-11-03T20:28:50Z

There some entries in the Young Severus challenge over at kinda_lush that might interest Snape/McGonagall fans, if they haven't seen them already:

bethbethbeth wrote Anything But Temptation NC17, Snape/Slughorn, Snape/McGonagall, Snape/Lily, Snape/HisRightHand, 2,365 words. Warnings: Wanking, Fondling, Frotting, Dub-con Summary: Even the most brilliant of young potions' prodigies occasionally have something other than potions on their minds. (prompt: recipe)

odogoddess wrote Dreadful Marches to Delightful Measures, NC17, Snape solo, Snape/Sprout, Snape/McGonagall, 12,200 words. Warnings: wanking, teen sex, spot of voyeurism, angst, h/c, sexual content. Summary: Two meaningful summers in Snape's life... (prompt: midsummer night)

And I wrote Daring To Dream...and Not To Dream NC17, Snape/Lupin, Snape/McGonagall, 12,400 words. Warnings: some strong language, wanking, frottage, oral, somnophilia, and dark, bestial dream imagery. Summary: Severus Snape finally let himself trust Remus Lupin, until that fateful night at the Shrieking Shack. In the aftermath, can Minerva McGonagall pick up the pieces? (prompt: trust)

Happy Halloween

2006-10-30T14:36:35Z

(cross posted from Snape100)

Title: Happy Halloween
Author: Helen Krummenacker
Challenge: Masks and Costumes
Pairing: implied Snape/McGonagal
Words: 100

He studied himself in front of the mirror. His costume had been a terrific find. Black velvet, close fitting, the matador costume made assets out of his thinness and sallowness. The gold braid and red lining made it perfect for another reason-- a sort of tribute to the House Professor Minerva represented.
In his last year of school, she'd been kinder to him. It might just be a sense of responsibility, as he'd been overlooked so often, but he thought he'd sensed something more.
Tonight, he meant to push his luck a little. He knocked on her door. "Trick or treat?"

First post here

2006-10-02T14:49:39Z

I wrote this for the Snape100 list, but because of the theme, thought I should share it here.

Title: A Happy Coincidence
Author: Helen Krummenacker
Challenge: Snape's Animagus Form
Words: 100
Pairing/ warning: MM/SS; animagus sex

"Now, relax, let yourself flow, allow the new shape to take hold. Oh, what a happy coincidence!" Minerva looked at Severus' new body. "Aren't you a fine fellow? Although, you do... need... a little grooming."

She transformed herself, wrapping her paws around his shoulders so she could lick his ears without him squirming away. He made a face and she swatted him; resigned, he settled down.

After a while, he realized there were good things about extra nipples, fur coats, and being an unfixed tom with an enthusiastic grooming partner.

And curled up together later, purring, no one considered them indiscreet.

Smut with a side of crack

2006-06-03T00:45:02Z

For 30_lemons; crossposted; theme: The Mile-High Club

Title:30 Minutes Over Kandahar

Author: vulgarweed
Theme: #27, The Mile-High Club
Pairing: Severus Snape /Minerva McGonagall
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Why are flying carpets banned by the British Ministry of Magic? Warnings for gratuitous political potshots and reckless disregard of timeline, atmospheric science, and physics. Also vertigo, a little hint of erotic asphyxiation (altitude!) and a spot of Animagus bestiality.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling, first and last and always.

Revenge for the Great Game?

Link goes to my journal. Fasten your seatbelts, mind the warnings!

Awakening

2006-05-26T12:00:14Z

Hello Everyone! This is my first post here, and I'd like to share a fic with you that I have written for the snape_rarepairs May Challenge - Severus/Minerva.

Title: Awakening
Author: PurpleFluffyCat
Characters: Severus/Minerva
Rating: PG13
Words: About 2000
Notes: Written for the snape_rarepairs May Challenge - Severus/Minerva
Summary: Seventeen-year old Severus didn't like girls; he was above such things. Minerva found the abundancy of handsome young men tedious. What would happen if their fascinations were to land upon one another?

Severus didn't like girls. He couldn't stand their brittle laughter, candy-smoothness and over-ripe manner. Fluttering eyelashes left him cold, swaying hips made him bored, and the whole performance of his seventeen-year old peers seemed to him like a degrading public mating ritual; an ironic reminder that perhaps evolution hadn't brought humans very far, after all.

Contrary to popular belief, Severus didn't like boys either. A muscular Quidditch-playing frame aroused no interest in him, nor a lithe and supple room-mate. The deep tones of a manly voice did little to pique his interest, - unless of course the bearer had something of note to say, which Severus found extremely rare.

All-in-all, Severus felt rather superior to those possessed by primal urges; a purer type of human being who could happily exist in the sphere of thought alone. He was sure his thoughts were all the more valuable for it, not fogged by silly hormones and basal preoccupations like the others of his age.

Of course, his fascination with her was entirely different.

It was thoroughly reasonable to hold professional respect for a woman - a talented and impressive witch with significant magical power; only right that he should admire her cool demeanour and imagine competency and accomplishment in every possible remit. It was perfectly valid to watch how her hands moved with deliberate gestures and firm accuracy, and of certain academic interest to study the cadence of her voice - the quick, clipped tones that spoke of no-nonsense, good advice and persuasive instructions. It was purely convenient to test a new quill by signing 'Severus McGonagall' several times on a blank parchment, and highly conscientious of him to request extra Transfiguration revision classes for his NEWTs.

Also, it was simply anatomical curiosity that led him to wonder how the curves of her body lay beneath those evergreen robes, and to examine the angle with which the fabric caressed her hip-bones and clung to her breasts and bottom.

Never mind that he woke sweating at night with dreams of those calm, cool hands expertly playing at his body, those firm, certain lips pressed upon his own. It was entirely irrelevant that the simplest instruction in a Transfiguration class morphed into a fantasy-lesson of a totally different kind; a confident woman teaching him how to touch and feel, how to hold, press and enter.

After such a notion, Severus tended to shake a black curtain of hair before his possibly reddened face and think supercilious thoughts of exam results and great inventions. He was surely above such things.

*******

Minerva knew what she liked - a challenge, an enigma, some spark and tussle with unconventional looks and inner strength.

Unfortunately, nothing close to that specification had appeared recently. Her male colleagues were either solemnly married or completely without appeal; it bemused her that some were actually both. Old flames had been sadly extinguished of late and of all her recent acquaintances, none had scored above 'mildly charming' or 'able to hold a conversation'.

On the other hand, the school was filled with handsome young boys bulging with honeyed muscles and sex.... and sufficiently wet behind the ears to refill the great lake after a drought. This last observation seemed to have bypassed her female colleagues however, as staff-room girl-talk centred around each seventh-year male coming of age - the one with a glossy ponytail and the needy blond admirer, the Quidditch champion who had cultivated a washboard stomach and the confident, dark, kissable one who was already engaged to be married. To Minerva, nothing could seem less interesting; their gauche first-forays, clumsy experiments and easy, youthful beauty held no attraction. Minerva didn't like boys.

Of course, her fascination with him was entirely different.

He was quite simply the most intelligent young man she had taught, or even encountered. His questions were piercing and insightful and his manner methodical and almost dangerously intense. He was razor-sharp, dark and lonely, yet carried a desolate sense of romance to which his peers were totally oblivious.

He was so old, cynical, tired, cross and yet new, young and perfect; obviously with no interest in teenage fumbling yet quietly seething to be woken. A formidable brain so convinced of its motions yet so unsure of its own nature. A careful, smooth machine powered by a spring wound so tightly it could break at any moment. Secretly, Minerva wanted to see it break.

She had noticed the way his dark eyes widened and followed her hands. In moments of naughtiness she self-consciously brought them to her throat, tilting her head backwards to expose the smooth expanse of skin there, or brushed them slowly across her abdomen, daring his eyes to follow their unfinished path. His lips parted ever-so-slightly when she spoke, as if trying to inhale the words and use them as an anchor.

Minerva knew what he wanted and also knew that he did not know this himself. She realised that she could hold the key to his enigma, and wondered whether it would be kind to unlock, to allow the brooding to cease. Perhaps she was merely flattered in her middle-age, or perhaps she was now feeling charitable. Perhaps she simply felt due for an adventure, but of course she would never act upon such a ridiculous idea.

*******

Graduation day arrived and Minerva proudly watched yet another batch of students stride along the Great Hall and accept their certificates, now fully-fledged witches and wizards. Lunch was at its magnificent best, and it was late afternoon before she returned, calm and sated, to her quarters to consider packing for the long vacation. In general it had been a cheerful day, but a small sense of impending loss was pricking at the edge of her mind that Minerva was doing her very best to ignore.

After a few minutes came a rap on the door. Minerva called for the person to enter and in walked Severus - her dark, dreaming Severus - still dressed in the formal graduation dress-robes emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest and finished in white fur.

"I came to return these", he said abruptly, thrusting a stack of Transfiguration books toward her. Minerva took them instinctively and placed them on a nearby table. Then followed a silent, still moment when they just contemplated one another - the mistress and the graduate, the cat and the raven. The pair seemed so unbalanced, yet in essence now so equal.

"Goodbye, Severus," Minerva said at last. She dropped her eyes from him and gestured to the door. Severus did not move. Instead, he inhaled deeply and took one step toward her, deadly serious. He fixed Minerva with his dark gaze and placed his hands deliberately on her upper arms.

"Teach me." His voice was very low, but steady.

For a moment, Minerva was transfixed by the intense young man staring into her eyes. Then she sighed heavily. "I have already taught you enough. Such lessons would be better given by someone else. Goodbye, Severus."

He removed his hands from her, expression closed, and seemed to prepare to leave. Minerva inwardly relaxed, feeling that she had probably done the right thing. She closed her eyes to diffuse the tension between them; to allow him to organise himself in the direction of the door.

Suddenly, she felt tentative pressure of hands upon her face and cool lips pressed against her own, perfectly still and unsure. After several frozen seconds, he withdrew, a flash of fear in his face.

"Please. I trust you." Severus' voice was slightly shaken, but steely.

Minerva realised that his brain, so advanced and intellectual, had finally alighted upon what he really needed to learn; to complete his youth and move forward from here whole and complete; to graduate. She also realised that implicit in his statement was the fact that there was no one else whom he trusted in this way. It was her task alone to decide the fate of her dark wanderer, - to help him now, however inappropriate that may seem, or to send him confused and hurting into the world where his time may come badly, or not at all.

Minerva considered the tremendous act of openness from her secretive young man, the effort and trouble it must have taken. She reflected upon the enormous complement he was paying her - a stern, serious woman, gruff before her time and never a great beauty.

Slowly, she guided his hands to her breasts and saw his face illuminate with relief and wonder.

"It would be my pleasure."

Ficlet: His Hands (Mild R)

2006-04-23T04:11:01Z

Title: His Hands
Pairing: McGonagall/Snape
Rating: R
Warnings: Hurt/comfort and some sex.
A/N: Prequel to my Snape/Lupin ficlet, Prurient Proposals (yes, it's slash. Be warned). All links point to my LJ.
Summary: There was little Minerva could give him; she gave him what she had.

It was his hands she remembered most...

SS/MM smut ahead!

2006-04-05T19:15:01Z

Hi all!

So. Over at 30_lemons, Severus and Minerva are one of the pairings I claimed...I loved the themes in the challenge (inspired by Nancy Friday's sexual fantasy books, which were so crucial to my adolescence).

And the first is up. *eyedart*

Title: The Treasure Hoard
Author: vulgarweed
Pairing: Severus Snape/Minerva McGonagall
Theme: #14, Virtual Reality (interpreted to fit the HP fandom)
Rating: NC-17

link goes to my LJ

Snape has many reasons to want Potter out of his Pensieve. So does McGonagall.

Enjoy!

Black Magic

2006-04-02T05:00:45Z

Title: Black Magic
Rating: G
Pairings: Snape/McGonagall, Harry/Hermione, Ron/Luna
Word count: 1939
Warnings: sappy, my first Snape/McGonagall fic
Summary: The war is over – now it’s time to party.

Link to my LJ