Author's Note: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest (response to: Scenario #32: Hogwarts holds some sort of quiz/comp/gameshow. How competitive is Snape, and who is his rival? What will he do to make sure he wins?; and Easy Pairing #23: Snape/Avery.) I have taken Certain Liberties with the canon timeline. Specifically, Rita Skeeter is now a year younger than Our Boys. I don't hear her complaining.

DISCLAIMER: I don't owns 'em. That's J.K. Rowling, don'chaknow. I just slips 'em out in the dead of night and makes 'em have little tea parties. Don't sue me. It'll all done in fun, I don't make a penny from my efforts (as the world at large seems so intent to remind me), and the most valuable thing I have is a kitten. If you sue me, she'll be sad. Do you hate kittens?

In Academia

Part 4 - King To Pawn

By Sushi


The vial crashed on the stones; shards of glass scattered. Severus covered his face with one hand as the vial's contents reacted with the floor's moisture and thick, red smoke rose up around him. There was a collective shout, a rush of feet, and a squeal as the door slid shut.

Peter squeaked. "Sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

"I told you not to touch it." Severus covered his wrinkled nose with his sleeve. For once he was glad for the damned things.

Pettigrew's head retracted like a turtle's into the fleshy cave of his shoulders. He mumbled something.

"What happened-" Professor Dram's sour voice broke in a fit of coughing. "What happened here? I expect better of you, Snape! Look," she paused to choke, "look what you've done!"

"It was Pettigrew," he said, muffled by his robe.

"It was, ma'am." Peter's timid voice came through the smoke more clearly than his pointy face. He suddenly started coughing until he gagged.

"Oh, shut up," Snape muttered in his general direction.

"You two," Dram stopped to cough. A hacking noise and the sound of something thick and wet hitting the floor made Severus stiffen. "You two get this cleaned up right now. I'll see you in my office when you've finished."

"Yes, ma'am," Peter squeaked. Snape narrowed his burning eyes.

Only when the door closed again did he snarl, "Stupid cow, doesn't even know how to stop a simple reaction." He pulled out his wand and cast a basic Freezing Charm to halt the output of energy. No energy, no chemical reaction. Smoke still hung thick and bloodlike, but at least there wouldn't be any more.

"Why didn't you do that sooner?" Peter whined.

"I wanted to give her a chance." Severus covered his mouth with his hand and mumbled a quick Sedimentation Spell. The smoke started to settle. "It's no wonder you can't cut a worm in half, what with instructors like that!"

Peter didn't say anything, only hung his head and twiddled his fingers, a fine cloak of crimson silt doing nothing to protect him from Snape's judgment.

"You're pathetic." Severus shook his head and went to fill a bucket from the gargoyle's mouth. "Go find Filch, tell him we need something to clean this up."

Glass snarled beneath Pettigrew's feet as he waddled off. Snape waited for the door to close yet again before he fished a large sponge from a high shelf and dunked it unceremoniously in the water. At the very least, he could get the worst of the mess cleared up before Pettigrew came back to bollocks it up some more. There was no point in trying a cleaning charm; mixed goliath beetle extract and gillyfruit juice had a nasty habit of sticking permanently if hit with a spell once settled.

The water was so cold it was thick. Even before the sodden sponge thwacked the desk, Severus' fingers felt like they were going to crack. He wiped dutifully, though. Great wet swathes cut through the fine red powder and left only a rusty tinge. Severus closed his eyes for a moment. He flexed his numb fingers. It wasn't turning out to be a good day.

His detentions were over, finally. With his luck, though, he'd be stuck with another week, thanks again to Potter's little pack. He was a prefect, goddammit! He'd already proven himself better than the rest of the herd. For some reason, though, Dram still treated him like a plebeian. Sometimes, when she yelled at him, Severus caught a glimpse of something like fear in her eyes. Would serve her right to be afraid. I could have taught any of her classes by third year. And done a better job of it.

He'd just finished getting the affected desks wiped down when the heavy oak door banged open and Peter skidded in, cheeks puffing out with every breath. His flesh wobbled. One plump hand clutched a bottle of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Cleaner. He held it out. "Here."

"Finish the desks. And put up everyone's things or she'll just make us come back and do it. And be careful this time!"

Peter gave Severus a quizzical look. Severus glared back, and cringed slightly as he got to his knees to work on the stone floor. His robe was hitched up, leaving his neat wool trousers to pick up every particle of red the sponge missed. He gave the floor a few good swipes, growled, and yanked the robe over his head. It came to rest in the far corner.

"I don't hear you cleaning, Pettigrew. This is your mess, remember?"

Silence. After a moment, Severus heard a slightly hitched breath, and a low, apologetic murmur. Soon, all that could be heard were the gentle swooshing sounds of wet sponges, and Peter's softly wheezing breath.

The whole time they scrubbed in silence, Snape felt Pettigrew's watery stare on his back. He ignored it. There were more important things to focus on, like getting the damnable red sediment out of the floor's cracks, or the way his stiff hands grew even colder on the stones, or the fact that his mother was going to throw a fit if he ruined a month-old pair of trousers. When he turned around to pick up the Magical Mess Remover, Snape trapped the pitiful blue gaze for an annoyed moment.

It looked away. Not, however, before he got the unsettling feeling that Peter was interested in something other than cleaning. Severus went back to dragging his sponge over the floor, bringing up the last of the stains. Thankfully, the vial was enchanted safety glass, and what could have been a nasty situation was more like kneeling on sand. It dug into his knees, just as Pettigrew's eyes dug into the rest of him as soon as Severus' back was turned.

Class period was over, and lunch halfway through, by the time they'd wiped up the last of the damnable soot. Peter sat like a lump while Snape rinsed out the sponges and bucket. He fidgeted on his stool. "D'you think she's going to keep us until the end of lunch?"

Severus shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. It's not like you couldn't stand to lose a stone or ten."

"It's only baby fat," Pettigrew said. Snape could hear him blushing.

"No, you're a whale. Really, Pettigrew, if you ever decide to become an Animagus, you ought to consider a whale. They're very intelligent, you know. Might give you something besides blubber in that skull of yours." Severus washed his hands as well as he could in the icy water running from the gargoyle's mouth. He dried them, turning to glower at his unfortunate Potions partner.

"I don't know," Peter mumbled. "I wouldn't mind being something little."

Snape snorted. "That'd be a first." He couldn't quite shake the feeling Pettigrew was more interested in watching than listening. Ignoring it, he tugged his robe on over his head and set his hat on his mussed, reddened hair. "Are you coming? I'd like to get this over with."

Peter shrugged and slid off his stool. The book bag cut an inch into fatty tissue when he slung it over his shoulder. Severus shuddered.

"You're pathetic."

Professor Dram was next door in her office, marking papers. A large mug of scummy, stone cold coffee sat next to her hand. Severus sneered when she took a drink. "We've finished, Professor," he said.

"Got everything put up?"

"Yes, Professor."

She scribbled a large, red "27%" atop the essay in front of her and looked up at them. Dram seemed annoyed about something. Of course, she always seemed annoyed about something. "Got everyone's things where they can find them tomorrow?"

"They're lined up on the back wall. You can check if you'd like." Snape pulled himself to his full height and glowered down his nose. Peter was silent, cowering beside and a little behind him. How in seven Hells did you end up in Gryffindor, you great pudding? Were they the only ones stupid enough to take you?

Dram's brow furrowed. Her narrow shoulders hunched like a vulture's wings. "What happened in the first place?"

"Pettigrew dropped a vial. I told him not to touch it."

"He's right, ma'am. I'm sorry." Peter's weak voice faded in and out.

"Hmph. Ten points from each of your Houses, and you, Mister Snape, will tutor your partner three times a week until he grows a brain. Do you understand?"

Perfectly, you sorry cow. You're making me do your dirty work. Severus' spine shivered at the thought of forcing soft, weak, useless Pettigrew to absorb knowledge to which he had no rights. "Yes, Professor," he said.

"But..." Peter stammered. He peeked out from behind Snape, face stiff with shock, absently clutching Snape's robe. Snape pulled it out of his grip. Peter fiddled with his own. "I... he's... he's a Slytherin, ma'am!"

"Give me one good reason why you can't learn from a Slytherin." Her brown eyes narrowed. After a minute of silence she said, "Ten more points from Gryffindor, and if I catch either of you fouling up again I'll fail you so fast your heads will swim."

"Professor, I hardly think it's fair to punish me for Pettigrew's ineptitude-"

"Between you and me, Mister Snape, I couldn't give a damn what you think."

Severus stiffened. His mouth twitched angrily. It took him a moment to gather himself enough to say, "I shall speak with Professor Fellus about this."

She didn't have a response to that. Instead, her thin, washed-out mouth narrowed and she took ten more points from Slytherin. "Out, now. Both of you. If I ever see anything like what happened today again, I'll have your heads for lampshades."

Snape kept his mouth shut and gave the shortest, tersest bow of which he was capable. Pettigrew followed him out. Neither spoke.

The warm, jellylike presence behind Snape reminded him that, indeed, life could always get worse. He kept his eyes straight ahead. It wasn't fair. He'd earned respect, through ceaseless toil and careful exploitation of his natural assets; the fact that one brainless bitch had this sort of power over him was unspeakable.

He screwed his mouth tighter. It only relaxed when he turned to get to Arithmancy and Pettigrew didn't follow. A soft, lippy noise echoed in the corridor behind him, and once again the weight of eyes fell away.


Professor Fellus was as useful as a Gryffindor sometimes.

"I'm sorry, Severus. I'll talk to her about reducing your punishment, but until then it stands." Fellus had given him an apologetic sort of smile and gone back to work. Severus didn't stay; he had a rat-faced pile of suet to suffer.

His mind wasn't on tutoring as he stormed to the library after supper. Rather, it was on what he should be doing: studying Riddle's parchment, writing his mum to ask about a few ingredients he'd need for the Imperius Salve, deciding which ingredients to ask for and which to buy first Hogsmeade weekend. His homework probably ought to make an appearance in there someplace. There was just something lacking about wars between giant clans when compared to absolute power in an innocuous glass jar.

Potter was the first to look up. His protective frown mirrored the one Severus got every time that pack closed in on one of his young serpents. Black started to get to his feet; Pettigrew held him back.

"S'okay, Padfoot. Professor Dram's making us."

"I'm coming with you, Wormtail."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. He'd never figured out... well, three of their nicknames. (He'd tried hard not to think about "Prongs".) Moony was obvious after last year.

Speaking of whom, a loud squeal suddenly echoed from between the shelves, and the werewolf in question raced into the open, a much smaller, wildly giggling version of himself stuck to his back like a tumour. Madam Pince, beady eyes cold and small mouth pinched, looked up from her desk. "Mister Lupin, stop that horseplay at once!"

"Come on, Madam Pince, we're just having fun." Remus shifted Romulus higher on his back. "It's not like there's anyone here."

Indeed, the library was unusually quiet for a Monday evening. It was a warm Monday evening, though, and still sunny despite darkness forming to the east. Severus had considered studying outside until he realised that would only give some sort of positive reinforcement to himself and to Pettigrew. If Black were going to insist on following them, he especially wanted as little positive reinforcement as possible.

"Regardless of who is or is not here, I will not tolerate this sort of behaviour in my library!" Madam Pince stared icily until Remus reluctantly let go of his little brother.

Romulus blinked sadly. His amber eyes were just as large and round as his brother's, and just as gentle. The boys reminded Severus of deer. Even their stances, alert and graceful, and the tawny colour of their hair attested to a sweetness that masked the uncontrollable monsters they really were. Romulus looked up at Remus. "I need to do some homework anyway. Meet you in the common room?"

Remus smiled lopsidedly and roughed Romulus' hair. "Bugger off, brat."

"Bugger off yourself!" Romulus waved quickly at Potter and Black and Pettigrew and dashed out, giving Severus an especially wide berth.

Snape watched him until the door closed, and turned an accusatory look at Lupin. "Amazing the sorts of things you'll find running about the halls."

"Go fuck yourself, Snape," Lupin said coolly. His gentle eyes had narrowed in warning.

"Mister Lupin, watch your tongue! Do you want me to speak with Professor McGonagall?"

"No, ma'am," Remus said blandly. He never took his eyes off Severus.

"Let's get this over with." Black stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. The glares Severus received from three sides made him feel like a heretic in a lion's den. Black's was the most intense by far, sharp and cold and blue as the heartless sea. He made his swaggering way up to Snape. "Ready?"


They stared at each other for a daring second. Peter cleared his throat. "You really don't have to come, Sirius. It's only studying."

"I'm not leaving you alone with this snake."

"Honestly, Black," Severus crossed his arms, "do you really think that I'd do something as obvious as hurt one of your precious little worshippers and not give myself room for an alibi?"

"So you're planning to do something, then." Black started to draw his wand.

Snape sniffed. "Hardly. My sole interest lies in protecting my own skin. If that means having to do Dram's job for her and teach that fat rat of yours, so be it."

Black's breath hitched for an instant. A low growl started in his throat. "Don't," he spat, "ever talk about my friends like that." An odd note of panic lay buried in his voice. His wand hand twitched. Sparks jumped from his pocket.

"No magic in the library, Mister Black! I suggest you all leave before I'm forced to remove you."

Pettigrew piped up, "We were just leaving, Madam Pince." The bag still bit deep into his shoulder. "Really, Sirius, I'll be fine."

Black looked between the two of them. He stepped closer until Severus felt hot breath on his throat, hot skin separated by little more than cloth. "If anything happens to him," he whispered, "I'll kill you."

"Given your track record, I have little to fear one way or the other."

Potter pulled Black back by the arm just as it started to tense. "Come on, Paddy. Peter can take care of himself. If he wants to go alone, let him. It's not like it'll take long." He shot the last sentence directly at Severus.

"I've no intentions of keeping your... friend any longer than I have to."

Black seemed to think for a minute. He and Severus stared at each other unblinkingly. Severus closed the last inch between them, staring straight down into blue eyes that would look so much nicer in a body prostrated before him. "We'll walk you," Black said finally.

"Very well. Pettigrew, if you would?" Snape made an exaggerated bow and waved his hand towards the door.

Peter obeyed. He cast a pale, strange glance at Severus but walked out with his head bent towards the floor. Severus followed close behind, Black and Potter just as close behind him, and Lupin bringing up the rear. Between Peter's hidden, hungry glances, and the hatred radiating from his friends, Severus wondered facetiously when his robe would burst into flames.

He directed them to the dungeons and the Potions classroom. The door was locked, but a quick charm corrected that problem. Snape let his eyelids droop in a chilling way. Wand still in hand, he asked, "Did you need help with lessons, too, Black?"

Black turned an amusing pale pink. "I was about to ask you the same thing, Snape," he snarled.

Severus shook his head and tutted. "Silly Sirius, I've already got Pettigrew to bring down my marks." He smirked as Black and Potter both started towards him.

"I can handle things from here, guys." Peter wrung his hands nervously. "Go on, I want to get this over with."

Severus glanced over in mild amusement. The mere thought of the biggest coward in Gryffindor standing up to his friends for a Slytherin was almost enough to wonder what the punch line was.

Potter blinked, but halted his advance. "You don't really want to be alone with that snake, do you?"

Peter shrugged. "Don't reckon I've got much choice."

"We're perfectly happy to stay here for a while if you want, Peter."

Pettigrew shook his head. "Thanks, Moony. I'll be fine." He raised his pale eyebrows at Lupin.

Lupin nodded. His calm, gentle eyes studied Snape for an unobtrusive moment, and turned to Black and Potter. "Come on, you lot. I could stand a bit of help with Transfigurations, and I'm sure Severus would rather we not take up all his time." Sometimes the beast seemed remorseful for his part in the attempt on Snape's life. He wouldn't give an inch where Romulus was concerned, but when it was only Remus, Snape often caught a glimpse of apology lining Lupin's thin face.

Silently, but not trustful in the least, Black and Potter withdrew. Lupin led them up the stairs, Black casting a narrow-eyed reminder of his promise. Severus stared witheringly down his nose. Pettigrew waited until his friends were out of sight to clear his throat.

"Best get this over with, you reckon?"

Snape shot him a haughty glare and lit the torches. "Go get a cauldron, and the ingredients from today. And be careful this time!" He perched on a tall stool and leaned over their black-topped desk. He leaned on his elbows over the book, more to avoid looking at Peter than for any other reason. He'd been making this particular anti-anxiety potion since he was fourteen. The fact that he had to teach it to a dolt too troglodytic to suffer any sort of emotional stress was somewhat insulting.

Peter quietly set the cauldron full of ingredients on the table. He looked up at Severus repeatedly while unpacking. Severus gave him a sidelong glance. Yes, that was definitely hunger in those watery blue eyes. Severus shifted his chair a few inches. It did little to deter the looks.

For the most part, he simply watched as Peter assembled the potion. Now and then he would snap instructions, or raise an eyebrow to indicate that, once again, Peter was about to bollocks it up. Peter's soft, wheezing breath echoed under the bubbling liquid. Snape didn't recall him wheezing when he was with his friends.

"Is this right?" Pettigrew asked, a handful of chrysanthemum petals peeking between the clenched fingers hovering above the cauldron.

"One at a time. It's all in the book."

Severus watched closely as the bruised orange petals drifted singly into purple liquid; it took a pinker hue every time one slipped beneath the surface. As the last of twenty disappeared in the bubbling mess it turned suddenly scarlet. A low whistling sound stopped only when Pettigrew hurriedly removed the glass stirring rod. The watery eyes peeked up once more, questioningly.

"Let it simmer for twenty minutes, then turn off the heat to let it cool. If you agitate it before it's cooled, it'll be ruined."


They stared at each other for a moment. Snape's hands were still wrapped around his book. Pettigrew's picked at each other. "I suggest," Snape said dryly, "that you take the time to study."

"Study what?"

Severus blinked. "Potions," he spat. "What else would you study in the Potions classroom?"

Peter muttered something unintelligible.

"What? Speak up, you daft twit."

"Nothing." Peter hurriedly hunched over his book. He still kept looking over at Severus, trying not to move his head. It didn't work very well, as the puffiness around his eyes limited his peripheral vision.

"Did you have a question?" Severus asked with exaggerated patience.


"Then stop looking at me."

Peter obeyed for a minute, but, soon enough, that starving gaze fell on Severus again. He was starting to wonder if he should tell Peter to bugger off and just tidy up. It wasn't because a boy was looking at him - that hadn't bothered him since he was thirteen - but because it was Peter Pettigrew. Slow, ugly, fat, dim, jellylike, Gryffindor Peter Pettigrew. The mere thought of that inconstant flesh squishing beneath him made the hairs on the back of Severus' neck prickle.

Which they did, as soon as short, fat fingers tentatively stroked the back of his hand. Snape jumped and snapped his head up to glare at Peter. "Yes?"

"You've got nice hands." Peter's voice was lower than normal, and Severus suspected he was trying to make it throaty and seductive. It made him sound like a sick toad.

"I know." Snape shook the plump hand away. Sharp, claw-like nails scraped a white furrow in his epidermis and he frowned. "Be a little careful, would you?" He lifted his hand to inspect it.

Peter grabbed it. Something turned in Severus' stomach as he ran a slimy, humid tongue over the scratch.

"Stop it, Pettigrew."

"All of you's nice, y'know. I'd never really seen you without your robe on before today." Peter's mouth was slightly open, and his fat lower lip glistened with saliva where he'd licked it.

"How wonderful for you. You can tell your grandchildren all about it."

"I-I don't think I want grandchildren, Severus. If you get my meaning." He was pink, and jiggling, and Snape's stomach wanted to crawl out his mouth at the sight of him.

Snape leaned forward, eyes narrowed and hat pushed to the back of his head. He stopped close enough to feel Peter's shallow breath on his face. "Then why don't you go back to your little friends and ask Black to bugger you senseless? I'm sure he won't mind, and you'll stop wasting my time."

"I-I-I don't want Sirius. I want-" he lunged, and caught Severus' mouth with his wet lips.

Snape jerked back with a roar of outrage. He dragged a sleeve over his mouth. "How dare you?" he bellowed. "How dare you touch me, how dare you kiss me, how dare you even think you could seduce me? You ignorant, hideous, spineless lump of lard! What makes you think you've got anything I'd want?"

Peter hung his head. Liquid pooled in his eyes, threatening to spill out over his pathetic pink face. "I'm sorry," he whispered shakily. "I only thought-"

"You thought wrong." Snape slammed his book shut and stuffed it in his bag. "What could ever make you think that you could conquer me? Go on, tell me, you worthless pile of shit. Are you that stupid, or that blind?"

"I'd heard that Lucius Malfoy-"

"Lucius Malfoy is a living god compared to you."

Peter's tears ran steadily now. "Please. I'll give you anything you want. Please."

Snape sneered. "You expect me to whore myself for your pathetic sake."

Pettigrew sniffled and rubbed his nose on his sleeve. "No," he whispered. Quickly, he dropped to his knees and started pushing up Snape's robe. "Please, just let me-"

Severus kicked him. His foot connected with solid stomach three inches in. Peter fell back with a muffled thud. He curled into a quivering sphere under the desk and sobbed.

Snape stood up and prowled around the table. His wand was in his hand, and he sent small bolts of lightning crashing into the stone around Pettigrew. "I've dealt," crash, "with you and your miserable friends," crash, "for six years. The very fact that you got the idea that you could seduce me," crash, "into your undersized skull leaves me to wonder how low your intelligence really is." An exceptionally large bolt made Pettigrew jump and yelp. Snape crouched low, hands on his knees. "I firmly believe," he whispered, "in giving people what they deserve."

Straightening, he tossed his hat on a desk and yanked his robe over his head. "Come on, Pettigrew. I haven't got all night."

Peter's streaked face looked up from his encompassing black robe. "'Scuse me?"

"Do you want me to fuck you or not?"

Peter's mouth moved, but nothing came out. Unsteadily, he lumbered to his feet and started to pull the robe over his head.

"Only your trousers. We don't need to get into any unnecessary details here, do we?"

"N... n-no." Pettigrew's trembling lower lip said otherwise. He turned his back, anyway, and in a minute kicked a sad pair of jeans that would have held two of Severus across the room. A ragged pair of white Y-fronts quickly followed. Without being told, he cast a locking spell on the door.

"Now," Severus said, giving Peter an eviscerating glare and unbuttoning his trousers, "get on your knees like a good little worm and make this worth my time. Unless you'd rather leave. Personally, I don't give a damn either way."

Peter fell to his knees with a stunned look and crawled - crawled - to Severus. His fat, warm hand delved into the fly of Severus' shorts and groped around until it closed around a semi-flaccid prick. Eyes shut, he pulled it into his mouth.

"Good worm," Snape murmured. "That's right, suck me."

Peter obeyed, one hand on the base of Severus' shaft, the other clutching a lean hip. His mouth was warm and soft, just like the rest of him, amateur and wet and noisy and full of blunt teeth, but adequate enough. Just to get the point across, Severus grabbed a handful of short, fine, pale hair and used it to brace himself as he thrust once, twice, three times into Peter's throat.

"Watch the teeth, worm, or I'll remove them. Oh, yes, much better. Suck, you little rat. Harder. Harder!"

Peter rapidly obeyed. Severus dismissed the bizarre thought that the rodent might actually enjoy being bullied like this. He moved both hands to Severus' arse, kneading weakly, entire face distorted with the length and girth of a hard cock. His cheeks hugged its outline.

Severus felt his balls begin to draw up into his body. It was tempting to just let Pettigrew finish him and leave the rat-faced sod to take care of himself. There was something shamefully appealing about having his way with that useless, flabby body, though. "Are you a virgin?" he asked huskily.

Peter's sunken cheeks flushed. He nodded.

"Have you ever fucked yourself? Used your wand, maybe?"

Again, Peter nodded. He wouldn't look up. Severus' cock twitched at the admission.

"On your hands and knees." Snape smirked wickedly when Peter did as he was told. The odd thought that, should Peter actually be enjoying himself, he would be a useful tool to undermine Gryffindor in the Academic Bowl came unbidden. It was certainly worth filing for later.

Severus summoned a bottle of glycerin from a far shelf. For a moment he considered taking mercy and using it on the black-draped arse jiggling at his feet. The thought made his lip curl. There was a distinct difference between putting his cock someplace and touching with his hands. Instead, he took a small amount in his palm and rubbed it slowly up and down his shaft. The tip of his thumb pressed back his foreskin. He gave a long, low moan, just to prove to Peter how inferior that sodden mouth was to a clinical right hand, and had an unexpected rush of satisfaction at the needy whimper that echoed it.

Severus carefully got to his knees, using them to push Peter's legs wider. Black cloth slithered up sunless flesh as he forced it to pool in the small of Peter's back. Severus shuddered. For a moment he considered stopping altogether; far from the smooth, firm, untouched white of Lucius' backside, Peter's was spongy, expansive, crinkled with cellulite and marred by a large, tomato-shaped birthmark that rose from the pale skin in a stiff, brown blob. Some part of it only made him want to punish the boy more. Biting his lip, Severus positioned himself, never quite letting his hand touch ugly flesh.

Peter moaned, "Ungh..." when Snape breached him. His shallow, wheezing breaths sped up. From the first thrust it was hard, merciless, nothing but harsh breaths and loud groans and the muffled slap of fabric-coated muscle against jelly. Severus' long fingers curled into soft flesh as his pelvis curled in impending release. Peter suddenly leaned on one arm and reached down to squeeze his prick. A few seconds later he squealed, and jets of white hit the floor and splattered.

Severus breathed hard. The rhythmic pull of Pettigrew's arse did nothing to distance him from his own orgasm. He squeezed his eyes shut, oddly aroused by the lurid sensation of fat in his hands. It was disgusting, utterly disgusting, and he pressed his face against Pettigrew's clad back to feel the softness against his cheek. The tension in his pelvis torqued, and suddenly broke as he thrust shallowly and frantically, a short moan muffled by the warmth of adipose flesh pressed against his face. A few final, weak thrusts rent him of the last of his semen and he pulled out, breathing hard against obscured fatty tissue for a few seconds longer than he should have.

Quietly, he sat back on his haunches and used his wand to clean himself. When he was re-tucked, disrobed but with his hat perched in its proper place, he cast Peter a sneer and turned off the burner. "Get your clothes on and get out of here."

Peter nodded. His eyes were clear and empty. "Wednesday?"

Severus snorted. "In your dreams."

"Oh." Peter quietly gathered his things. He cast a resolutely pained look at Snape and walked out. His step was a bit tender.

Severus dumped the potion down the sink and cleaned up as quickly as he could. He was torn between vague sickness and a heady rush of power. As soon as he could he locked the classroom door, hurried outside in the clear night air, and, in a hidden alcove off the Quidditch pitch, rolled a cigarette with angry, stiff fingers.

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