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?
Part 6 - Happiness In Slavery
He groaned. Severus blinked blearily at the green curtain hanging still and silent before his eyes. He'd had the most god-awful nightmares: chanting, and the burning drag of a wand around his body, and some sort of headache that left his dream self nauseated and immobile. Last time I sleep with an active Osmosis Charm.
He'd cast the damned thing the night before, along with a short-term Mind-Clearing Spell, in order to concentrate completely while he performed the slow, tricky process of boiling down cobra rib jelly. If anyone wandered into the Potions classroom (a slim chance at best) he could always claim it was for his Trance Draught. It was a perfectly legal, safe use for a dubious ingredient. The jelly sat safely at the bottom of his trunk, now, waiting for him to turn it into a substance of devastating beauty.
Those plans were currently on hold.
Severus tried to sit up. He groaned out loud and slumped back, heels of his hands ground against his eyes. It felt like the mother of all hangovers. His stomach lurched. Severus barely had time to clap a hand over his mouth and rush to the bathroom in nothing but a sheet before a night's worth of stomach acid met the light of day.
He panted painfully, clutching the sink and trying not to inhale the long, stinking threads dangling from his nose. A toilet flushing and a stall door opening barely distracted him. "Um... Se-Severus? Do I need to get Madam Pomfrey?"
Snape weakly turned his head to see Nagendra standing there uncomfortably with a worried look. He moaned softly and shook his head. It almost triggered another rush of vomiting.
"What were you doing last night? Drinking?" Patil turned on a tap and stuck his hands under it. "I don't even remember you coming in."
Severus blinked. "Studying." Talking was somehow easier than moaning.
"You're going to work yourself to death, mate. You need to relax."
"You sound like my mother."
"Sometimes I wish I were your mother. 'Least then I could make you take a week off."
Snape snorted softly. The cool porcelain against his forehead helped some. "Naggy, if that were the case you would most definitely not be my mother. She'd give me a Trance Draught and tell me to lay down for an hour."
"She's from the old country. What do you think?"
Nagendra laughed and patted Severus on the back. "I know all about that, mate. At least you're the baby, eh?"
Severus groaned again. "Don't even get me started on that." Raj, Severus' eldest brother, swore up and down (far from their parents' ears) that, if he'd not had Hogwarts to hide at ten months out of the year, he'd have ended up in Saint Mungo's from having to uphold the family name. At least their father, English prat that he was, didn't have quite the same enthusiasm for obedience as their mum.
"Need me to get you anything?"
Snape shook his head. "No, thanks." While he regretted that anyone should have to know that he was a puking girl's blouse, Nagendra would keep his mouth shut. He was a good fellow, Naggy, more cunning than ambitious and content to let a man humiliate himself in peace. He'd never be great, never be remembered by history, but Severus couldn't fault him.
"Give me a yell if you change your mind."
Snape flashed a weak smile and was alone. He waited several more minutes before rinsing the taste of rot from his mouth and straightening up carefully. His stomach gave an outraged gurgle but didn't lurch. A little shaky, temples pounding like a herd of erumpents, he skirted the wall all the way back to the room.
Severus went straight for his wand. He held it to his head with both tight hands and muttered the Osmosis Counter-charm. A low chuckle came from Lucius' bed. Severus glared. "Yes?"
"Oh, nothing, carry on."
Snape glared once more. The Counter-charm didn't help (in fact, he might have sworn his headache spiked), but he didn't expect it to. He rummaged through his trunk before coming up with a vial of Painkilling Potion. The thin, bitter liquid trickled down his throat and left the stench of licorice lingering in his nose. Several seconds passed before the pain subsided, and when it did he was surprised to find the vial's shards sticking from his bloody palm.
Severus leaned on his other hand for a moment before picking up his wand again for an Extraction Charm. Perhaps I ought to take my own advice and have a Trance Draught. There was barely enough cobra rib jelly for both the small batch of Trance Draught he had to send home and the Imperius Salve, though. Over Christmas holiday he could probably talk the Malfoys into taking him to Knockturn Alley... if Lucius had gotten off his high horse and started speaking to him by then.
He flopped down on the twisted bedspread, sheet still wrapped loosely around his hips and riding up to his thighs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lucius glance over and smile faintly. Severus ignored it. He had more important things to focus on than Lucius' sex drive.
Being Sunday, the classrooms would, as always, be deserted. However, while he could explain cobra rib jelly, there was no possible way to explain muttering Unforgivable Curses over a pile of Ashwinder eggshells. He thought hard; the thoughts seemed to move very quickly, although Snape attributed that to running off to be sick first thing in the morning and not having had time to catch up with himself. Despite their speed, he had little difficulty keeping track.
The safest possible place he could get to was the Shrieking Shack. The full moon had come and gone, and there would be no Lupin brothers, nor anyone else. Any noise would be attributed to the - feh - ghosts. It was easy enough to get there, and he could sneak down in the dead of night. After all, nobody had seen him to stop him last time. He grudgingly supposed he could thank Sirius Black's hateful mouth for giving him a laboratory.
He quickly calculated that the potion would take between two and four hours to complete. It would mean being out after curfew, but he could leave around eight, say he was going to study for his upcoming Herbology exam, and be in no later than half past midnight. Severus closed his eyes, smiling to himself. None of his loyal Slytherins would breathe a peep about him being out so late. It was good to be the king.
Severus tried to sit up again. His head no longer spun, his stomach no longer churned, and despite a lingering dizziness he felt more or less himself. Gathering his dressing gown and the small bottle of hemp oil for his hair, he got up and went to have a shower.
"Sometimes," he kissed Peter's bare neck, "I think you have learned, only you pretend not to."
Peter shook his head as little as he could and tilted his neck to allow further access. Severus smirked and drew a long lick over pillowy, salty skin. Peter whimpered softly. Loquacious Elixir required two hours to boil. Thanks to assorted privacy charms, nobody would ever find out how they spent those two hours.
"I've got a treat for you." Snape drew the precious jar of salve from his bag and unscrewed it. He held it out for Peter to smell. Even his nose twitched like a rat's.
"Take off your clothes and stretch out."
"But what about...?" Pettigrew motioned clumsily.
Peter blushed and nodded.
"This is foreplay. You'll see what I mean." Severus smiled, subtly fluttering his eyes in the way that always, always turned Peter into putty.
He was rewarded with a shy smile and, in a moment, expanses of pink skin. Peter looked back at him with worship shining in his eyes. Just like a Gryffindor to offer himself up as an altar. Or a lab rat - either description fit.
Snape knelt and left a long trail of kisses up Pettigrew's fleshy spine. He'd gained rather a few useful tidbits from this sort of behaviour. Thanks to Pettigrew's trusting, slimy little mouth, Black and Potter were polishing every suit of armour on the main floor of the castle that night. Otherwise, Snape might not have found that leaking pipe and taken Filch down that particular corridor outside Slytherin where the duo were setting up an elaborate network of Dungbombs and trip wire charms.
"How was your weekend?" he asked tenderly, unscrewing the jar and scooping out two fingers' worth of transparent green gel.
Peter hummed quietly. "Okay. Missed you."
"You only saw me Thursday." Snape managed to smile through his disgust.
"I know. Four days is a long time."
Peter gasped softly at the cool gel touching the back of his neck. Despite Tom's assurances, Severus was a bit nervous about the salve. He'd kept his robe on to provide a safety barrier. "It was worth waiting for this, wasn't it?" He began to rub the gel into sunless skin stretched and lined over morbidly intriguing fat.
Peter hummed again, louder and more insistent. He wriggled, sending a wave through the mountain of his body, and closed his watery eyes. Flesh gave and shifted beneath Severus' hands. Beneath the layers of fat he could feel thin muscle loosen and lax. It was a decidedly odd feeling and he was reminded of shifting sand. Smiling, murmuring useless phrases that made his pet gaze at him with ridiculous words all but forming on his lips, he kneaded and stroked the slick gel into Peter's skin.
While the Imperius Salve simmered over excruciatingly low heat in the Shrieking Shack, Severus had thought long and hard about what to use as a test suggestion. It would have to be simple, innocuous, and something he could gauge. In his hands, Tom cast up the odd bit of encouragement. It brought a smile to Severus' face to see those green words appear sharp on the page. Had he not had that warming presence, he might have given up and run from the ramshackle building filled with splinters, and dust, and rusty stains, and cockroaches without enough sense to fear werewolves.
In the end, they'd agreed on a simple suggestion. It might gain some notice from Pettigrew's pack, but could be easily explained by the extended bouts of tutoring and a few well-placed words. On the other hand, it was something shy, shirking little Pettigrew would never do under normal circumstances, especially since it might betray their "little secret". "Sometimes," Severus said softly, "I wonder if you prefer me to your friends."
Peter looked up with a funny, happy yet torn expression. When he settled his head on his plump forearms again, his skin had taken a slight ashen hue. "Um..."
"I certainly prefer you to my friends." He smiled softly at Peter's gape. "You've made me realise how ridiculous this House rivalry is. Perhaps..." he trailed off and looked away coyly. "Forget it. It's nothing."
"I want to hear." Peter's eyes were shining, and his lower lip hung slack. Once again, he'd taken on a rosy tint, and his skin was warm and trembling under Snape's hands.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to do anything that might hurt-"
Severus smiled as shyly as he could. It took rather a lot of effort to make a blush rise in his cheeks, but he did. "It would mean so much to me if you'd get to know some of my friends. Not to let anything on, of course, but... when you've got a moment on your own, say hello?"
There was a beat, and the sudden dark flicker of Peter's pupils told Snape that the suggestion had taken. Peter blinked. "Are you sure?" he asked halfheartedly. "I mean, what if they don't-?"
"Then they're not really my friends, are they?" He leaned forward and, as gently as possible, pressed a soft kiss to Pettigrew's lips. It was a calculated move he only ever used to punctuate an approved behaviour, or to reward information given well.
Peter whimpered almost silently and returned it. His eyes fluttered shut and pudgy fingers came to rest on Severus' cheek. They held the kiss for several seconds before Severus pulled back. Both were breathing hard. For different reasons, of course.
"Make love to me?" Peter murmured. He looked like a cherub stripped of its wings and damned to live for eternity as a fat, vaguely human rat.
Severus nuzzled his ear. "Soon. I promise."
With a happy sigh, Pettigrew settled back in place. Snape rubbed the last traces of gel into skin. Glancing at the contented, fat face for an instant, he inspected the webs of his fingers for any lingering traces. Carefully, he wiped them off and rubbed them in until they dried and vanished. It only took a moment to reseal the jar. Peter chose that moment to open his eyes. "You're not going to use that for...?"
Severus shook his head. "Mint is an anesthetic. You want to feel me, don't you?" He traced a long finger along the puffy edge of Pettigrew's arse.
Peter whimpered. He nodded his head frantically. Snape didn't have to reach between his thick legs to know the desperate excuse for a Gryffindor was as hard as a rock.
Gently, he traded the jar for another in his bag. The silken kulfi-flavoured lotion would be a new experience for Peter, one that should further cement his devotion to his master. Carefully, after snapping on a rubber glove (a perfectly rational protective measure against injury and infection, he'd explained ages ago), Severus dipped three fingers into the pot. They came back coated in thick, pale yellow emulsion that left peaks where he'd touched it.
When the first long finger slipped in, Peter squealed. Quickly, he got to his knees and pressed his enormous arse back towards Severus. Severus' lip curled. He forced it into a smile. Almost immediately, Peter's breathing was ragged. "Oh, god. Feels different. Oh, god, Severus, I'm going to... going to..." he dropped his head and gave a high, nasal keen as thick, white globs dappled the stones.
For fuck's sake, Pettigrew, learn to control yourself! Pathetic rat! Snape smiled widely and leaned forward to kiss a flushed cheek. "I was going to ask how you liked it. Doesn't look like there was much need."
"M'sorry." Peter tried to hide his face in his arms.
"No reason. I take it as a compliment."
"Really?" Shy blue eyes peeked out.
"How else should I? I hope you don't mind if I don't stop." Snape kissed an ear. He whispered, "I don't want either of us to ever forget tonight."
Peter turned his face away. "I love you," he said in a trembling voice.
Severus' stomach turned. He made his eyes go wide, his lips part in apparent surprise before spreading into a huge smile over his revulsion. "I love you, too," he lied through his teeth.
The rolls on Peter's back rippled as his body began to shake. It took a moment to realise he was sobbing. One hand still ensconced in that fleshy body, Snape rubbed the other over a round shoulder. "What's wrong?"
Peter shook his head. "Nothing," he whispered between sobs. "Nothing at all." He looked up. His lashes were stuck together with moisture, laced over reddened eyes. The way his lips had puckered slightly made him look like he'd just shaken hands with God. "Nobody... ever... never..."
"Nobody?" Snape stroked limp, fine hair. It was so thin he could see pink scalp between the sandy strands.
Pettigrew shook his head. "Not like that."
Oh, fuck, Severus. You'd better have a way out of this. Severus tilted his head and kissed Peter again, ever so softly. Their lips clung for a moment before parting. "What do you want?"
"You. In me. Forever and ever."
"Let's start with now and go from there, eh?"
Peter smirked shyly and giggled. "Okay."
Rocking back on his knees, Snape started moving his finger slowly in and out. He wondered vaguely if the Ashwinder eggs had done something to affect Peter like that. More likely the tub of lard was just so happy someone would look twice at him, much less fuck him three times a week, that he'd taken it as "love". Peter moaned softly. His back arched, forcing Snape to bump his prostate. The moan turned into a gasp. Snape's throat tightened when Peter started humping his hand.
"Slow down. You want to enjoy this, don't you?"
Pettigrew did. Thank god. Perhaps the lotion wasn't such a good idea. Putting a hand on the small of Pettigrew's back to keep him still, Snape slid another finger inside. It was tempting to skip this process entirely. However, the more lotion he applied, the thicker the layer between them.
By the time he'd inserted the third and final, Peter was moaning steadily. There was no need to look to know that he was hard again. Severus pulled out. "Don't stop," came the whimpering plea.
"Let me get my robe off." Carefully peeling off the glove, Severus pulled his clothes off as quickly as he could. He left his socks on - it was cold in the dungeon. With the glove back in place, he shoved his fingers in a bit too roughly. Peter's breath hitched; he groaned vividly. "You liked that, did you?"
Peter nodded. His face was buried in his arms, and his hips were shaky. Smirking to himself, Severus scooped up a bit more lotion with his free hand and stroked it on his half-hard cock. Between the intensified sensations and the thought of Potter begging to suck him, he was painfully hard in under a minute.
The glove went to the floor one last time as Severus positioned himself. He thrust hard, and Peter yowled into fat, folded forearms. Severus shifted a little. He closed his eyes, gripping squishy hips, thrusting hard and slow. Muffled noises came up to meet him. He imagined they were T... no, that was silly. Tom Riddle was dead, or vanished from the face of the Earth. And he certainly wasn't a cowering lump of suet.
The thought lingered, though. As he imagined the body beneath him turning lithe and slender, the thin hair thick and dark (though he had no idea why - he hadn't the foggiest what Tom looked like), his motions slowed. He wanted to give pleasure, rather than merely take. Gently, grinding his hips in a painfully controlled way, he brushed the head of his cock against the small ball of prostate again and again and again and again. Unconsciously, he leaned forward, chest to back. He was slightly surprised when his arms wrapped a small whale's worth of blubber.
"I love you," came the soft voice.
"Mm... I love you, too," he murmured. A small shower of kisses fell on the shoulders beneath his face. He willed them to echo back thirty years.
The lotion had been a mistake. The fivefold sensations building on each other were coming to a point too quickly. Severus wanted this to go on for a long, long time. Fierce attempts at control broke down, though, leaving him panting and thrusting. The body beneath him was in a similar state, mewling and wheezing and begging and bucking against him. Suddenly, it stopped, shook, and clenched down on him. A hard groan told him all he needed to know.
Despite himself, he pounded his hips as hard as he could. Nerves prickled all over his body, flooded with sensations, racing with heat and tingling. A few more strokes and he buried his face in mint-scented skin, moaning as his cock throbbed and pulsed and spat its release and sent its unbalancing pleasures straight to his heart.
Severus went limp. He pressed his lips to the back beneath him and rolled off. When he looked up, he flicked an eyebrow in mild surprise at Pettigrew looking at him with utter adoration. Pudgy fingers entwined his, and before he could instinctively jerk away Severus remembered to hold them. Pettigrew smiled, sated. "You could do that to me forever," he said.
Snape blinked. Instead of an answer, he smiled.
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