Originally written for the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest , three word challenge: feere, chastity, Paris. Thanks to Tari Elensar and Ligeia for French and Italian assistance, respectively.
The parchment scroll the owl dropped onto the table in front of Severus Snape was of finer quality than usual, tied with a gay red-and-silver ribbon. "Why, Severus," said Minerva McGonagall cheerfully, "it looks like an invitation."
"Quite observant of you, Headmistress." He scanned the scroll rapidly. "My cousin Marius is to be married next month, in Paris."
"Well, then, you must go, of course. Classes will be over by then, and I see no reason why you should not join your family."
"It has been many years," he said, continuing to read the scroll. "My mother, as you know, lives in Sorrento, and we have not seen each other since before the Second Fall. She's written a note at the bottom…" His voice trailed off.
"Severus?"
He abruptly pushed his chair from the table and stood. "Headmistress. Minerva. It is kind of you to offer -- I mean to suggest -- I mean that it is unlikely, after all, that I will attend, but I certainly do appreciate --"
"Nonsense." Her voice was firm. "I am sure that your mother will appreciate your presence at your cousin's wedding. Why, you've hardly left Hogwarts since Voldemort's defeat, and it will do you good to have a holiday on the Continent."
"Yes, of course." But his voice was thin and reedy, and he did not even swirl his robes in his usual menacing fashion as he fled to the comfort of his dungeons.
For Merlin's sake. He was not going to be able to get out of this, he realized as he sat on his bed, his head in his hands. He was going to need some help. And there was nobody, nobody who could -- wait.
It had been three weeks since his last visit to a certain discreet Sinshoe Alley establishment; it was not too soon to -- indulge -- again. And although his tastes ran to young men, there were young women there as well. Perhaps one would be sufficiently well-mannered and sophisticated for his needs.
On Saturday evening he strolled out of the school grounds; as soon as he was beyond the anti-Apparation wards, he vanished with a crack and re-appeared in Wizarding London. Sinshoe Alley was not far from Diagon Alley, and he took care of his more quotidian shopping needs before slipping into the shadows of the less respectable side of town.
Sally's establishment was one of the nicer places, a far cry from the Knockturn Alley cribs and cheap bawdy-houses, and although her prices were a bit steep for a schoolmaster's salary, Snape had to admit that he got his money's worth. Tonight, it was Joshua, one of his favorites, and after a very pleasant hour in Joshua's company he felt he could face almost anything -- even his mother -- with aplomb. Certainly he could face Sally, and make his unusual request without embarrassment.
Feet up on the ornate desk in the parlor that served as her office, she took the parchment from him with a raised eyebrow. "What's this, Sev? A wedding?"
He let the nickname slide -- he'd long since given up on trying to get her to call him by his proper name -- and pointed to the postscript.
"Severus, darling," Sally read aloud, "please do come, it's been ages since we saw you. And do be sure to bring Elizabeth --" She looked up. "Who's Elizabeth?"
He shrugged unhappily and made a small motion with his hand, indicating for her to continue.
"--- Elizabeth, whom we have heard so much about. It is past time that you introduce her to the rest of your family, and we look forward to finally meeting your wife." Sally guffawed as she let the scroll fall to the desk. "Your wife! I'll eat my broomstick if you're married, Sev."
"An easy bet," Snape said, collapsing into the armchair on the other side of Sally's desk. "Mother hounded me for years, and it only got worse after Father died and she moved back to Italy. Owl after owl: Severus, do you have a girlfriend? Severus, have you met someone special yet?
"Two years ago, when I turned forty, she turned to direct action." He sighed. "She contacted each of her friends with marriageable daughters, one by one, and contrived ways to throw the girls in my path. It was humiliating for all concerned, you can imagine."
"I can imagine," murmured Sally, and he glared at her for a moment. It was true he was not exactly good-looking, but there was no need to rub it in, was there?
"I had to get her off my back. So I decided to simply invent a woman friend." He shook his head. "That worked for a year. Then came the owls again. Severus, are you leading the poor girl on? Severus, are you going to make an honest woman of her? It was enough to drive anyone mad."
"So you 'got married'."
"Gretna Green," he said, nodding. "My mother thought that was quite romantic, when I owled her about it after the -- er -- non-fact."
Sally smiled and leaned back in her chair. "So you need an Elizabeth. Someone to pass muster with Mother Snape."
"Lady Alighieri, actually. La Contessa. She remarried and acquired a title."
"Lady Alighieri." She rolled her eyes. "I don't think any of my girls will pass in society, Sev, but I know where you can find one who can." Swinging her feet off the desktop, she opened a drawer and pulled out a small sheaf of what looked like business cards. "Let me see. I know I have...here."
He took the card she handed him. It was an ivory rectangle of thick parchment, and in its center, in ornate script, were the words:
"I'll call Felicia and tell her to expect you," said Sally. "And you'd best take the card with you."
At Number 23, Sinshoe Alley, the card was taken and scrutinized at length by an impassive doorman before Snape was ushered into a small but elegant drawing room. The carpet was so lush that his feet made no sound; the chair of finely carved ebony conformed to his body as he sat, and the tiny cakes that magically appeared on the low table beside him evaporated on his tongue in a burst of exquisite flavor. After a few minutes, a door opened and a woman walked into the room. Somehow she seemed both seductive and businesslike at once; her black hair severely tied back behind her witch's hat contrasted with the flowing silken robes she wore, red and grey, which rustled gently against the carpet as she approached.
"I'm Felicia Fox. You're Sally's friend?"
He stood and gave his name, and she nodded. "Sally told me about your problem, and as it happens I have a girl who will suit. For a price."
"And that price is?"
The figure she named caused him to inhale sharply. Ten times the price of a night with Joshua. He'd have to dig into his vault, the family money he tried not to touch unless absolutely necessary. But it would be worth it. If. "For this much, she'd better have the manners of a duchess."
She looked at him a bit sharply, and for a moment he was reminded of Minerva McGonagall. "I can guarantee both her manners and her discretion. But you must guarantee your conduct toward her."
Severus snorted. "If you spoke with Sally, then you know that I am no threat to her chastity."
"Her chastity, Mr. Snape, is not at issue here. You know what sort of establishment this is." Her expression softened. "But you will treat her as befits a lady. You will not presume upon her background or her class, you will not abuse her, and you will not permit any others to do so."
He spread his hands. "Madam. She is to masquerade as my wife, and I assure you, I will treat her as such."
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Lissy!" she called. A house-elf wearing what appeared to be a satin pillowcase appeared, and Madam Fox bent to whisper in its ear. The house-elf vanished, and a moment later the door opened again.
Severus had to admit that the girl who walked in -- no, floated in, as though walking on air -- was the very vision of a lady. She looked to be in her early twenties, tall and slender, with clear, pale skin and blonde hair that fell in a long plait down the middle of her back. Her rose-colored robes could have come from the finest shop in Diagon Alley, or even Paris, and something in the way she gracefully glided across the room reminded him just a bit of Narcissa Malfoy. The same elegant carriage, the same tilt to the nose. Of course, he mused, it was likely that Narcissa was no longer quite so elegant now that she and her husband were in Azkaban.
"How do you do," murmured the girl, her grey eyes fixed on his, her lips curved upward very slightly, the merest hint of a smile.
"How do you do," he said, taking the proffered hand. He'd have to buy a ring, wouldn't he. "Severus Snape. And you are?"
The girl looked over at Madam Fox, who said, firmly, "Elizabeth."
"Elizabeth," repeated the girl, nodding. Her gaze was very direct, and he nodded in approval. It wouldn't do to have her appear deferent or hesitant.
"If you prefer I will only address you as Elizabeth in company," said Severus.
"No," said the girl. "Elizabeth will do. It will prevent any slips that might give us away, you see. And I am quite accustomed to answering to a name not my own."
Her voice was low and cultured, her accent aristocratic, and he wondered if she was, truly, what she pretended to be. After the Second Fall there were many pureblood families that had fallen on hard times, their riches confiscated by the Ministry; those who escaped Azkaban did not, after all, go unpunished. Perhaps she was a daughter of privilege who had found herself no longer privileged when her family turned out to have backed the wrong horse. Or perhaps she was a Squib, tossed out on her ear when her parents discovered she had no magic.
He scrutinized her carefully. She was of an age to have been a student of his, if she was indeed of that class, but she did not look familiar, and she had given no sign that she recognized him. To be fair, he remembered very few of his students other than the Slytherins; after a time, they all blended together into one, in a haze of spilled ingredients and botched potions.
"Well done, Madam Fox," he said, sketching a bow in the older woman's direction, then turned back to -- Elizabeth. "I shall pick you up on the sixth of July, in the afternoon, and we will Apparate to Paris. We will attend my cousin's wedding that evening, stay the night, and breakfast with my family the following day. You have suitable clothing?" The girl nodded, and he continued. "Vous parlez français?"
"Assez bien, monsieur, comme si c'était ma langue maternelle."
No trace of an accent, he noted. A pleasant surprise. "Per caso parlate anche italiano?"
She shook her head. "I'm afraid not."
"Ah, well. It would have impressed my mother greatly." He smiled. "You will be introduced as my wife, and conduct yourself appropriately. I will not require any intimate attentions."
Elizabeth exchanged a look with Madam Fox. "I understand. How shall I address you?"
"'Severus' will do."
"And how long have we been married?" Her direct gaze made him flush a little.
"Nearly six months. We eloped to Gretna Green at Christmastime." He gathered his robes around him and gave a slight nod. "I'll prepare some notes for you and send them by owl."
The hint of a smile again. "That sounds good. I'll see you next month, then."
He watched her confident stride as she left the room. She would do very well, indeed.
The doorman admitted Severus immediately the second time, and he was shown into the drawing room where Elizabeth awaited, a traveling case at her side. She was wearing the same rose-colored robes she had been wearing at their first meeting, and he frowned.
"You have a more formal robe for the wedding?"
"In my bag," she said. "Would you prefer to examine it before we leave?"
"I am certain it will meet with my approval," he said, waving his hand dismissively. He was no expert on witches' fashions, and from everything he had seen of Elizabeth and of Madam Fox and her establishment, he knew the gown would be appropriate. Digging into his pocket he extracted a plain silvery ring and handed it to her.
"White gold. Perfect," she said with a smile, and slipped it on. "It will match my earrings."
She had recognized that the ring wasn't merely silver, he noted as he drew his wand to size it to her finger. "There."
"Very nice."
"Now, then. Since Paris is some distance, and we've got luggage, I had a Portkey made so we don't have to Apparate." He had not wanted to ask if she had a license; it would have been embarrassing for her to admit it, if she was a Squib, and although ordinarily he did not scruple at embarrassing others, he was painfully aware that she could dash any hopes he had of remaining in his mother's good graces.
She lifted her case with one hand and with the other reached for the token he held out. He spoke the triggering words and felt the familiar wrench, and they were standing in the foyer of l'Auberge du Chaudron d'Or, a fine hotel in the Paris equivalent of Diagon Alley.
He took care of the formalities at the desk, then the two of them went up to the room. It was on the second floor, sunny and airy, and he immediately drew the curtains. Decades of living in the bowels of Hogwarts had shaped his tastes; it was a pity that hotels rarely had dungeons. But the bed was large and hung about with damask, the attached bathroom sumptuous and elegant, and he supposed he could manage.
He heard a murmured spell and turned abruptly; when he had been a spy, Latin words spoken in an unfamiliar voice usually did not bode well, and the reflex was ingrained into his bones. Elizabeth had her wand out and was pressing her robes as she unpacked them. Not a Squib, then. Although the way she caressed her wand and the tiny smile on her face as she directed the clothes to array themselves in the closet suggested that she did not have the chance to use magic often. Perhaps Madam Fox had restrictive rules.
"We have three hours before the wedding. I will be making a few purchases in the Rue Blard; you are free to amuse yourself as you wish."
"May I accompany you?"
Severus frowned. Some of the potions ingredients suppliers he planned to visit were located in less than savory parts of magical Paris. A young lady of Elizabeth's apparent class might attract unwanted attention. "I think not. But you may go shopping on your own, if you like." She spoke French like a native; she had her wand. She could take care of herself.
She gave him a strange look. "You realize that it is quite unusual for…for someone to hire a companion and then abandon her."
"I have things to do that do not require your assistance," he said tartly as he headed for the door. "You will earn your money tonight, I promise you."
When he returned she was not there, and a momentary pang of fear shot through him. Maybe she had run off. Maybe she had been attacked in a shadowy alley, or had been approached by a man seeking sex and decided to earn some extra money, or -- he forced himself to stop worrying. Taking a slim book from his bags, he settled into one of the chairs, and soon he was absorbed.
Half an hour later, she breezed in, and he looked up. "Nothing to your liking?"
"I have better things to do with my money than squander it on unnecessary things."
He raised an eyebrow. "You are the only woman of my acquaintance who believes that."
"I am not 'a woman of your acquaintance'," she said tartly. "I am a paid companion who is saving her money so that she can leave her present life and begin a new one."
Severus closed his book. "I confess that I am curious as to how you ended up in your present life. You're not a gutter girl. You're not a Squib."
Her eyes turned wary and her face shuttered like a mask. "That is none of your business, sir."
"Don't call me 'sir'," he snapped. "You're supposed to be my wife."
"Then accept me for the part I play, and stay out of who I am." Her voice was sharp, but he noticed the tremble in her slender hands.
He sighed. "All right. We should prepare for the wedding."
Elizabeth relaxed perceptibly. "Do you want to shower first, or shall I?"
He waved a hand casually. "Take as much time as you like; I don't need a shower."
"Oh, but you do. Severus." The sparkle had returned to her eyes, and her smile looked almost playful. "You can't go to your cousin's wedding with your hair like that."
"Like what?" he said, suspiciously. His hair was no different than it always was. He didn't pay much attention to it.
She reached a hand up and took a few strands between her fingers. "Greasy and limp. I always wondered how you could stand it that way. You should try my shampoo."
He frowned. She 'always wondered'? Had she been a student of his, after all? Evidently she had caught her slip, because she quickly added, "I noticed it when you came to Felicia's."
"My hair is generally the least of my concerns."
"But it's mine," she said gently. "You wouldn't want your mother to think your wife was so uninterested in you that she wouldn't try to improve your appearance."
"My mother tried once to improve my father." His smile was brittle. "He broke her arm for it." It still astonished him, thinking of the subdued, cringing creature his mother had been. She had changed so much upon his father's death, and if he had to put up with her being a dragon and generally attempting to run his life, it was a small price to pay, really, for the vibrant woman she'd become. Especially since it was rather hard for her to run his life from Sorrento. Then again, now that they would both be in the same room again for the first time in years, she might break his arm if he didn't play the proper husband. "All right. Give me the shampoo."
"I've already put it by the shower. Would you like me to wash your hair for you?"
"That will not be necessary," he said stiffly. His mother would get along famously with Elizabeth, he could tell. They were both dragons.
"Severo, caro, che gioia rivederti! É passato così tanto tempo," said Lady Alighieri, kissing him on both cheeks.
He grimaced, but allowed himself to be embraced. Although she had recovered her natural exuberance after Sebastian Snape's death, he still found emotional display difficult and foreign. The hot Italian blood he had inherited from her could not withstand the chill of English reserve he had grown up with. "Ciao, mamma. May I introduce my wife, Elizabeth?"
"Elizabeth! At last." Her face beamed her approval.
"How do you do, Lady Alighieri."
"Oh, tush. You must call me Sophia. I have been dying to meet you ever since Severus told us about you. We shall have a good, long chat at the wedding dinner, you and I."
And that, Severus reflected as he led Elizabeth to a seat, was as good as a threat. He had made a list of all the details he'd remembered having written to his mother, along with a précis of his life and their supposed life together; the girl had assured him that she had studied it well. Hopefully she would be quick-witted enough to come up with anything else necessary to fill in the blanks.
At least she looked the part. The dress robe she'd brought for the wedding was a high-necked and flowing affair, light blue with darker embroidery, and her hair was done in some sort of intricate wrap around her head. Her eyelids shone with an enchanted powder that changed color when viewed from different angles, from a pale blue to a dark midnight. Every inch the society lady, he thought, and was reminded again of Narcissa.
The ceremony was long and boring, with far too many frilly robes and overpoweringly scented flowers and candles for Severus's liking. But Marius looked happy, and his new wife was glowing in the manner that brides are supposed to glow, and the guests -- mostly witches and wizards, as he'd expected, although there were a few uncomfortable-looking Muggles here and there -- all tossed rose petals and sighed over the beauty of the bride and generally did the things expected of them at weddings.
For the reception, the bride and groom had booked L'Hibou Vorace on the Rue Blard, a restaurant well known in wizarding circles for combining the very best of Muggle French cooking with the extra flair that only magical establishments could provide. Severus and Elizabeth were seated at a large round table with his mother and her husband -- Severus refused to think of him as his stepfather, and in fact had only met Luca twice before -- and a collection of various distant relatives and friends of the two families.
He noted with some wry amusement that his mother completely disregarded the engraved placecards and claimed the seat next to Elizabeth. After introducing her to Luca, she immediately began the interrogation, and Severus listened with half an ear as Elizabeth duly parroted the background he'd given her.
Yes, she worked at the apothecary in Hogsmeade, which is how they had met. No, she did not mind living at Hogwarts; it was much more pleasant now that she was no longer a student. Yes, she was much younger than Severus, but really, considering the lifespan of witches and wizards, what was a mere fifteen or twenty years? When he was 100 and she 85, who would remark on it?
He snorted to himself. Somehow he doubted he'd be keeping Elizabeth on retainer, to appear at family functions every three or four years until they were doddering and old. His original plan hadn't gone any farther than this wedding; he supposed he could declare incompatibility a few years down the road, and tell his mother they'd divorced.
"And your parents?" his mother was saying. He listened a bit more intently; although they had settled on her "maiden name," they hadn't discussed her background in detail.
"Killed four years ago. The War," replied Elizabeth. There was no need for her to name it more explicitly, as the newspapers did: The Second Voldemort War, the Great Wizard War, and so on. Saying "four years ago" was enough. Everybody at the table knew, and was silent for a moment.
"Oh, my dear. How awful for you. Such a dreadful loss of life."
"Yes." She looked down, but Severus could see that her grey eyes flashed with anger. A bit of truth, perhaps, in the tissue of falsehoods they'd decided upon.
"And it's not yet finished," said Luca. "I see in La Gazetta del Profeta that despite Voldemort's death, his followers are still terrorizing wizards of mixed blood all over Britain."
"A few isolated incidents that the irresponsible press publicizes out of all proportion," Severus said. "Most of his followers are dead or in Azkaban now."
"But some have escaped justice, yes?"
He shrugged. "The Ministry dealt with the Death Eaters according to their crimes. Some were executed. Some were imprisoned. Some were fined."
One of the guests across the table, a French man of about Severus's age, made a harrumphing noise. "They should have executed them all."
"This is about justice. Not revenge."
"And is it justice to allow those murderers to walk free? Think of the little children who were killed because their parents were not wizards, of the Moldu villages terrorized --"
"The murderers, as you put it, are in Azkaban." He looked the man in the eye. "Those Death Eaters who are still at large are the fringe, the hangers-on. The followers who chanted slogans but did nothing. The children of those who committed crimes. They do not deserve to be killed for the crime of poor judgment."
"Is that what it was?" murmured Elizabeth softly, so softly that he could barely hear.
"But they should be made to pay, yes?" the Frenchman insisted.
"They are paying," said Elizabeth, her voice suddenly sharp. "They are all paying." Around the table faces turned to her in surprise. "I know people who followed Voldemort because it was the fashionable thing to do in their crowd. Some of my friends -- their parents are in Azkaban. Their possessions confiscated. Some of them are still wanted men. Because they made one stupid mistake."
The bitterness in her voice was palpable, and Severus knew without a doubt that she was thinking of someone in particular. Someone special -- a boyfriend? Perhaps -- no, almost certainly one of his Slytherins.
He ran through the names in his mind as the conversation around him gradually returned to other, more appropriate topics. Foremost on the list of course was Draco Malfoy, who had disappeared when his mother was led to join his father in Azkaban; the Ministry had put it about that they would be very interested indeed in any information leading to his arrest. Adrian Pucey's parents as well were in prison, and although Adrian himself had been cleared of all charges, he was living in what could only charitably be called reduced circumstances. Chester Warrington. Marcus and Julius Flint. Ian Fletcher. Malcolm Baddock. All either missing and wanted, or cleared and broken.
The rest of them had either been intelligent enough to avoid the temptation of Voldemort's recruitment or strong enough to stand up to their families -- or they were in prison. Or dead. Too many deaths, he thought, and Luca's right. It's not over yet.
"You did very well," he told Elizabeth as they returned to their room at the Chaudron d'Or. "Mother adores you, and now everyone is doubtless wondering how horrid old Snape managed to pluck such a beautiful young maiden."
"Your mother is a charming woman," she replied as she unwound her plaits. "And you're surprisingly charming as well, when you're away from your potions."
"So you were a student of mine. I suspected as much."
"But you don't remember me, do you, Professor?" Her voice held a teasing note.
"I remember very few of my students. Those who are outstandingly good or excruciatingly poor, yes. Although --" his eyes narrowed --"I admit that I am surprised that I don't remember you."
"I'm not," she said. She had shucked off her outer robe and pulled on a wrapper, and was on her way to the bathroom. "I've got to wash off my face, and then I'll join you in bed."
In bed. Severus had never been in bed with a woman; it wasn't something he had ever felt the need to try, as he had known from his adolescence that he was attracted only to his own sex. He even felt obscurely grateful that she had disappeared behind the bathroom door before he had finished removing his clothes. Perhaps he should offer to sleep on the chaise longue? Although, since he was paying for this ridiculously expensive room, she should be the one -- no, he couldn't ask her that. It was a large bed, after all. Pulling on his nightshirt, he slipped under the covers.
He heard her quiet, "Nox," before she came back into the room, and closed his eyes to the rustling of her clothing as she finished undressing and got into the bed. The heat and weight of her body in the bed was surprisingly disconcerting; it had been a very long time since he'd actually shared a bed for a whole night, actually slept with another person rather than simply having sex and then leaving for the solitude of his own bed.
Then he felt the mattress shift behind him, and warm breath on his neck. "Severus." It was a whisper.
He stiffened at the touch of a hand on his back. "Miss. I require nothing further of you tonight."
"Are you quite sure of that?" she murmured in his ear, and as she wrapped herself around him from behind he felt the unmistakable pressure of an erection against his body.
"Bloody hell," Severus muttered, reaching for his wand. "Lumos." He twisted around against the bare flat chest, the slender but clearly masculine body, and looked into the smirking face of -- "Draco Malfoy. God save us."
"So you remember me after all, Professor." Draco's face looked oddly androgynous, the Adam's apple that had been hidden by the high-necked robe contrasting with the carefully-plucked eyebrows. Now that the makeup was removed -- and now that Severus knew that the mysterious "Elizabeth" was male -- his identity was obvious.
"How could I not? One of my failures." He frowned and sat up, carefully moving away from the other…person in his bed. "Or are you one of my successes? Tell me, Draco, are you hiding from the remnants of the Death Eaters, or from the Ministry?"
Draco rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "Both, I guess. By the time I finally figured out that Lord Voldemort was a madman, I was in too deep to back out. And he offered -- a lot. Power. I wanted that. But then everything went to hell."
"When Narcissa was taken, you mean?"
"My sweet mother. I learned a lot from her." There was no humor in Draco's thin smile. "I think she was more dangerous than Father."
"The female of the species, as they say," Severus said quietly. He agreed completely. A beautiful woman was nearly always a dangerous one, and Narcissa was one of the most beautiful women he knew.
"I wasn't of age, so when the Ministry confiscated the Manor and our Gringotts vaults, they declared me a ward of the state. I decided it would be prudent to vanish."
"You chose an…interesting method."
"I needed anonymity. I needed money. And I like sex." He grinned, a bit wolfishly. "And I'm good at it. I'd been a customer at Felicia's, and I thought it might be nice to get paid for it rather than being the one doing the paying."
"It surprises me that you would ever have to pay," said Severus. "Although perhaps that has been the least surprising thing I have learned this evening."
"Oh, I could have had any girl I wanted. Had I wanted a girl. But my tastes are not acceptable in our society." Casually he reached a hand up to Severus's face -- it was the hand with the "wedding" ring, gleaming in the pale wand-light -- and stroked it along the harsh line of his jaw. "I'm sure you've learned that, too."
He jerked his head away from the touch. "I doubt your tastes run to ugly forty-two-year-old men."
"Fishing for compliments, Professor?"
"Just being blunt. As is my habit. And I would prefer that you continue to call me Severus."
"You never had fantasies about bedding your students?" Draco raised an eyebrow, and his smile widened. "Felicia said that you preferred young men. Blond and pretty. Did you fantasize about me -- Severus?"
"That," said Severus tightly, "is none of your business."
"But it is. You're in bed with me. And considering that you've paid for my company, you ought to take advantage of it." He slid closer, rolled so that his body molded to Severus's side. "As clients go, you're not at all repulsive. Especially now that your hair's cleaned up," he added, testing a few strands between his fingers.
"Draco --"
"Severus," came the response, breathy and low, and before he could react the hand in his hair pulled him into a kiss.
It was an odd feeling, being kissed by soft lips, feeling a smooth chin against his, silky hair draped across his neck contrasting with the urgency of the hardness pressing against his leg. Draco's tongue darted into his mouth, pushed against his teeth; one hand worked delicately at the buttons of his nightshirt as the other tangled in his hair. With a groan he gave himself up to the sensation, opened his mouth to the questing tongue. Yes, he had paid for it, and it was being offered to him. He might as well take it.
He pulled away, panting slightly, and looked Draco in the eye; and that almost deflated his incipient erection, right there. He looked too much like Elizabeth, too much like Narcissa. Severus pushed the covers down, revealing the hairless but finely-muscled chest, the taut stomach, the blond thatch of hair around a proud cock. Yes, yes, that was much better.
"My turn," murmured Draco, and Severus inclined his head so that Draco could easily pull the nightshirt over his shoulders. "Oh, very nice."
"With my face hidden and my assets exposed," he said dryly.
"Faces are only masks," said Draco. "Who you are has nothing to do with what you look like." The nightshirt was lifted up and tossed aside, and he bent his head to Severus's nipple, worrying it with his teeth before kissing a path downward.
"So I am discovering," he said, and then all possibility of speech left him as Draco's lips encircled his cock. A tongue slid along the length of his shaft, gently licking from base to tip, then the wet heat of Draco's mouth engulfed him completely and a moan escaped from his own mouth. His hands went to Draco's hair, unbound and long and shining in the pale light.
Gods, but he was good at this, he thought. Sucking just hard enough, rasping those teeth just so against the head, taking him in deep, so deep, and then swirling that tongue around as he pulled away. And then again. And then Draco pulled away and tilted his head back to look at him.
"Do you want me to finish you like this, or do you want to fuck me?" His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen, making him look younger, more feminine, and the words sounded incongruous. The society lady asking to be fucked. A whore in the bedroom. A schoolboy -- one of his schoolboys -- robes off and trousers down, sucking the cock of his Potions master.
Severus tugged the shining hair back toward his groin. "Keep at it -- yes, like that --" He gave himself over to the feeling, to the slide of lips and teeth and tongue, the fingers that stroked at his inner thighs and the base of his cock, and the pleasure built until it washed over him in a great shuddering wave and with a muffled cry he came hard, spilling into Draco's mouth.
In the cool aftershock of orgasm he felt Draco slithering up his body to press a kiss against his lips, a kiss that tasted of his own seed; then Draco nuzzled his too-smooth chin against his neck and whispered in his ear, "Like that?"
"Exactly like that," he murmured, voice hoarse. "Now fuck me."
"That's what you want?"
"I'm paying the piper, I call the tune. So pound me through the bed, Draco, and don't look so shocked."
"Not shocked, Professor, just surprised. Considering how I've spent the past few years, I've probably become unshockable." He turned away to lift his wand from the bedside table and summon a bottle from among his things. Severus saw him smile as the bottle flew into his hand, watched him caress his wand with his fingertips as he laid it back down again.
"You don't do magic much any more." An observation, not a question.
Draco opened the bottle and began spreading the contents onto his fingers. "I can't, back home. They've got a trace on my wand. It doesn't reach here, though -- the border regulations don't allow it, and I'm not important enough to be on the Interwiz bulletin. And I made a purchase in the Rue Blard…" He trailed off, his eyes suddenly canny. "You're not going to turn me in."
Another observation, Severus thought. "Of course not."
"You're just saying that because I'm about to put my cock up your arse."
"Correct," he said, and Draco laughed. Rolling up onto his hands and knees, Severus looked over his shoulder and added, "Although if you persist in calling me 'Professor,' I may change my mind."
"Mmm." Draco had scooted closer and began to slide his slick fingers down his cleft, pushing in with smooth strokes, opening him, stretching him. "I'd better ensure your cooperation, then."
"You're making -- a good start," said Severus, panting slightly as he pushed back against the thrusting fingers. He could feel his arousal beginning to build again, and he pulled himself upright against the headboard.
"Tell me how you like it," came the murmur behind him, as lips bent to his neck; fine hair swept across his back, tickling his skin like feathers, sending blood pooling in his groin. Two hands parted his legs and he felt the first tentative press of Draco's cock at his body, and arched back to meet it. The hands moved to his hips, urging him down, as the lips blazed a path between his shoulder and his ear, hot breath on his neck. "Severus."
He moaned. "Just like that." Reaching down he took one of Draco's hands and wrapped it around his aching erection, moved the other to his chest. Draco took the cue, teasing a nipple with the one hand while stroking his cock with the other, first slowly, then faster as his hips found the same rhythm, thrusting hard. Severus leaned back into the strange sensation of smooth thighs sliding against the backs of his own legs, of an oddly hairless chest against his body. Of an unfamiliar length inside him, filling him, sparking against his prostate until all he could do was groan and grip the headboard more tightly to keep from collapsing.
Behind him the soft noises of Draco's breathing became rougher, more unsteady; inarticulate gasps that washed against his ears like waves on a beach. He turned his head to the side. "Not -- not yet."
The body behind him -- in him -- stilled, and he felt the heat they'd generated between them, a fine layer of sweat between his back and Draco's chest. The only movement was the hand still sliding on his shaft, the mouth shaping words that were almost kisses against his neck. "Anything you want, Severus. I won't come until you do." Teeth scraped along the edge of his shoulder, sharp and hot. "But I want to see you explode all over this bed." A thrust, then another. "I want to hear you scream with pleasure."
"Harder," he gasped, and Draco complied, driving into him with a harsh rhythm that matched the pulse of their breaths, the drumbeats of the blood in their veins. He could hear the sound of his own blood and imagined that he could hear Draco's as well, rushing, racing, pumping. He arched back, thrust forward, caught between the body behind him and the arm wrapped around his chest, caught between the hard cock moving inside him and the slippery hand moving hard against his own cock, and it was too much, just enough, and when he cried out wordlessly Draco's arms caught him as he collapsed to the bed.
A nibble at his ear. "May I?"
He snorted lightly. "You've earned it. But don't expect me to move." But he did, pushing back against Draco's thrusts, and when Draco gasped his climax and slumped full-length onto his back, Severus turned his head and kissed him gently. In profile, his hair tangled from the exertion, his flushed face next to Severus's own, he was neither like "Elizabeth" nor like Narcissa. He was Draco, only Draco.
For a few moments they rested in silence, curved around each other, listening to each other breathe. Finally Draco pressed a soft kiss against the back of Severus's neck and rolled off his body, wrinkling his nose at the condition of the sheets. "Shall I clean this up while you shower?"
"Thank you. Although I hope you will forgive me for forgoing the shampoo this time." He swung his legs out of the bed and padded to the shower. The hot water streaming down his body was magnificent, beating a soothing tattoo on his shoulders and somewhat sore arse, refreshing him and at the same time lulling him to a satisfied sleepiness. Wrapping a soft towel around his body, he stepped back into the bedroom; the bed looked clean and inviting.
And empty.
He supposed it had been a good weekend, all things considered. He had made "Elizabeth's" excuses at breakfast, saying that she'd felt ill and returned home; although he had not been able to get out of promising his mother and Luca that they would come for a visit, he had been careful not to specify when , and with luck he'd be able to put it off indefinitely. With some astonishment, he noticed that his mother treated him differently, now that he was "married". Being over forty and living on his own for more than twenty years apparently hadn't been enough to make him an adult in her eyes, but somehow having a woman in his life did, and he wondered if all women thought that way. Perhaps it was only mothers.
On the other hand, there had been the rather large sum paid to Madam Fox, as well as the cost of the ring -- he had transfigured a white gold stirring-rod for it, and now he'd need to buy a new one -- and the Galleons that had been in his purse, which had vanished along with Draco. It had not been an inexpensive weekend.
On the other hand, there had been the rather excellent sex.
And in a strange way it was comforting to know, now, what had become of one of his missing Slytherins. Prostitution might not be the noblest of professions, but it could be a profitable one at the level Draco had chosen; and it had obviously been only a means to an end. An end which Draco had apparently achieved, with his own unwitting help.
Severus sighed, and next to him Minerva smiled. "I told you it would do you good to get out and see your family. Was it a nice wedding?"
"I suppose it was. As weddings go."
"But really, Severus, you should have stayed longer in Paris. It's bad enough you spend the whole school year here -- you shouldn't stay the summers as well. Of course I must, as headmistress, but you're young." Her eyes twinkled, and he was reminded for a moment of Albus. Perhaps the twinkling was something handed down from Headmaster to Headmistress. "I would have thought," she continued, "that seeing your family might have made you think about starting one of your own."
He nearly choked on his roast beef, to her great amusement. When he'd finally regained control, he glared down his nose at her. "I have all the family I need right here, Minerva. You might say that I regard the Slytherins as my children." And you, he thought but didn't add, are exactly like my mother.
A new crop of children came in the fall and were duly Sorted, and Snape found himself occupied, again, with the usual minutiae of daily life at Hogwarts. There were classes to plan and teach, detentions to supervise, and the occasional intra-house dispute to adjudicate. There were potions to brew, and papers to write.
In the late summer he had written to Madam Fox and received a bland reply that revealed absolutely nothing. He couldn't fault her; she had promised the utmost discretion, after all. The routines of the school year helped him put any lingering questions out of his mind. But he found, to his surprise, that he had no real desire to visit Sally's Sinshoe Alley establishment again.
The mealtime discussion at the staff table in early December most frequently centered around the upcoming Christmas holiday. Who was staying; who was leaving; and who would take what responsibility during the break. The headmistress and Professor Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw house, had been after Snape for some days to allow the two Ravenclaws who were staying for the break to move to the Slytherin dormitory.
"You've got five students staying, Severus. What's two more? Besides, I'd be happier knowing someone was keeping an eye on Lister and Silverthorne while I'm off in Africa."
"I don't suppose it ever entered your mind that I might choose to take a holiday as well?"
That drew a laugh from all the teachers in earshot. "That's a good one, Severus," Rolanda Hooch snorted. "I don't think there's been a Christmas you haven't been here since you started teaching."
The noises of assent from the other teachers were drowned out by the hooting of the owls as they flew in to make the daily mail delivery. One solid-looking brown owl dropped a scroll beside Snape's plate, and he unrolled it with curiosity.
Dearest Severus,
Please forgive my lack of correspondence over the past months, as well as my abrupt departure at our last meeting. I would like to thank you for the small loan you made to me; happily, I am now in a position where I can return your generosity. I can forward the funds by owl if you like, but I would very much like to repay you in person. Would you consider visiting for the Christmas holiday?
My life has been in a bit of an upheaval recently, as you might have guessed, but I am finally settled in a cottage not far from Toulouse. Not what I am used to, but it suits me. Maybe it will suit you, as well.
Let me know if you'll come -- I've directed Chouette to wait in the Owlery for your reply -- and I'll send you a portkey or Apparation coordinates. I would like to renew our relationship, if you're willing.
Your wife,
Elizabeth
P.S. Please give your mother my love when next you see her. Better yet, why don't we take a side trip to Sorrento while you're here?
"You're smiling, Severus," said Headmistress McGonagall. "It must be good news."
"As a matter of fact, Minerva, it is. And Filius, you'll have to find some other arrangement for your Ravenclaws. I'm afraid I won't be staying over Christmas after all." He looked around with satisfaction at the surprise on the faces around him. "I'll be visiting -- family."
Family, he thought as he slipped the letter into his pocket. Perhaps marriage had its advantages, after all.
HP stories | home | Send feedback | post a comment on livejournal | read comments
http://hierolgyfics.net/hp/wife | written August 2003 by Isis