Snape, Pissed Out of his Mind, Just After...

a/n: (Psst, it's a satire piece, regular rules need not necessarily apply) To those of you who reviewed positively, cheers! And congratulations for retaining your funny bone after surviving puberty -- it's tricky, I know, but well worth it! Here's an extended chapter for you as a token of my ephemeral affections; everybody likes a quicky.

Remus to the Rescue


It was past midday when Severus decided to eventually collect his rancorous person and enter into the shower for the first time in weeks. Hermione had been wittling away at his very last nerve and shunted him out of their quarters with the rankled ultamatum that if he didn't recover his lacking sensibilities of washing at least twice a week, he would be out on his arse by Monday.
Monday was Severus' least favourite day out of the week too, which made the threat all the most scathing --
"How dare she!" He thought, "I aided her in preparation for the N.E.W.T.'s, the SAT's, her A Levels, those errant Canadian Provincial exams, AND her very own master's thesis in mediwitchery! I supervised her internship at St. Mungo's, I covered half of her designated bedpans to scour WITH disinfectant potion... which really stings the skin upon contact," Severus whinnied in anguish, tears frothing to the fore on his face, trickling down as he doffed his usual mercantilist gear and flung himself into the tub, observing loathingly as the water rose to the level of his big toes. He wanted to drown in the puddle of his own connundrum -- the wading verisimilitudes of past defeat and Dumbledoricide was haunting, menacing, and made his daily hunts for bat's blood in class seem less than pertinent in light of other, more meaningful prospects... especially just after--
"Severus! Finally seen sense, have you?" Hermione still remained terse and febrile in her desire to brush him rough and ragged with a silvern brillow pad she indelicately clutched in her left hand --
"Must... resist... obvious... invective," thought Severus, for he remained quite the balsy, witty wizard even as he neared fifty and regularly employed such other words for "insult" like invective, harangue and castigation.
"Shut-up your face," Hermione warned, glaring sensibly at the factions of peeling scabs fermenting into something redolant of wine or at least finely distilled barley off of Severus' lean, long, bamboo shaded legs.
For Hermione was always a sensible witch -- if there was nothing she lacked, it was sensibility, and in abundance she flounced and pranced about Hogwarts as the most sensible and redundant sexual partner anyone could ever imagine.
"My word, Hermione, it's like you're scrubbing me with your own little zygote offspring right down to the nether-regions," spoke Severus softly, almost punitively as Hermione's eyes softened and she leant down to stroke his cheek with the back of her hand in the most tender act of affection next to shagging one senseless, right before she walloped him right in the kisser.
"You mildly incestuous bastard! No wonder you wanted to shag me in my seventh year! You're a pedophile -- a pedophile!" she exclaimed fiercely, continuing to bat Severus --our dearest most reprehensible but perpetually pardoned potions puppet and puppeteer -- with the sustaining brillow pad, each violent whack harbouring that extra zing to get her through the day by still behaving so sensibly all the god damn time.
Her shouts and shrieks were carried by the majestic Buck-beaked wind out into the extended and mostly prohibited parts of the Forbidden Forest, where Remus lurked after Tonks had rigorously shackled him the night prior due to his transformation difficulties as of late.
It was a definate attestation to Mr. Lupin's prowess that he was able wriggle his way out of a horribly chafing cock ring, specifically designed to keep wolves at bay for Tonks who fancied beastiality of all things! Surely, she had never inserted a stick up her family pet's bum when she was little! Certainly not! Heavens, no! Only a sick and deprived member of the wizarding race could ever be internally provoked to do such a thing. The horror.
Between Severus' lust for baby flesh, Remus' abused winky and Tonks' apparent absence from their measely hovel, sheathed in what can only be depicted as a five and a quarter by eight meter perimeter living room, a two by two square foot toilet with NO WASH HAND BASIN (the filthy runts), and a floo the size of a thimble without the breathing holes so that they both contintually suffered from cronic lung infections and respiratory illnesses.
As Remus' bronchi gratefully exhaled the fresh evening air, he ripped off his chains and in the process horribly mangled his manhood. Fleeing haphazardly around the grounds and emotionally scarring several young second years in his wake, (but not before giving them each a quick lick for good measure), his willy dripped the acerbic lifeblood of long repressed sexual abuse as a child, only rallied more prominently into his consciousness by his pink-haired banchie. As he stumbled in the dungeon chambers, he grasped one of the plentifully arrayed floating candles from the descending staircase, spitting in Salazar's portrait before shoving the lit candle into his pelvic cavity, right where his penis used to be.
By this time, Remus was a very woozey, very persnickety werewolf, which any empathic witch or wizard could understand granted his severe and most disturbing origin of bloodloss.
Hermione's arm was numb from being raised and thrown somewhere on Severus' spider like body in order to land one or two blows.
"Hermione!" Cried Remus, "What kind of fight is this?"
Hermione refused to turn her head and acknowledge the rabid man, with a candle in place of his pooch.
"Oh, it's sensible alright!" She snarled, Remus' candlestick rising to attention considerably.
"Oh, my..." he muttered, watching as the flame dwindled and was quickly snuffed by the welling concentration of wax dripping downward from the top. Suddenly, he regained his focus as Severus began his telltale snivelling, immersed in a painful flashback of his own when his father also used to bat him over the head with the very sharpest of brillow pads in order to somehow repair the amount of overprocessed locks after a messy debacle concerning a blonde bleaching kit and some preparation H. Indeed.
"HErmione, please stop!" Hermione froze her pumelling arm up in middair as her gaze shifted over to where Remus stood. Not even noticing his newly acquired manhood of wax, she raised an eyebrow as Severus frantically scrambled to the other end of the room.
"I know Severus is a pervert. This is well known by all," Remus eclipsed into his smoothest narrating voice, seductive enough to hold even the wildest audience in rapt attention.
"But consider his background --it's what all of the fangirls do, after all. His father beat him, and let's face it, probably sneezed on him repeatedly every time he was ill taking into account just how much grease has yearly manifested on that man's head. And now, your attack with that brilliantly sparkling brillowpad -- oh my,look how the shiny bits dance in the light!" Remus was temporarily bemused by the softly incandescent lines the pad made up in slow motion as he plucked it from Hermione's now thoroughly perturbed person, cradled it and massaged its prickly curves into caresses.
"This is troubling to me, Remus.. I never knew. After all, Serverus has been wrong about many things during our marriage -- such as whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas -- it didn't though, did it MY DARLING!" She sqeaked, sounding less appropriate by the second!
"Oh, so you admit to hoping our ties would be annulled once we arrived back in the wizarding world!" Severus pointed accusingly, pausing to gape at Remus' new... friend.
"Anyway," interrupted Remus, self-conscious now of his choice in phalluses, "your attack with the brillow pad obviously triggers some suppressed issues which Severus has struggled to address and has long contested even when we attended school together, isn't that right?"
"Yes Freud," grumbled Severus.
"Eh! What was that?"
"Pfft, whatever," was the response. Severus struggled to push himself up, what with his deteriorating physique only barely able to withstand the rigors of sexual activity with Firenze, that saucy minx... eating centaur.
"I think you should light that, werewolf," he offered up caustically, lashing out at the one man who truly understood him, "it would make a significant improvement on your performance, at least that's what I hear tell of from Nimphadora."
"You cad!" Remus gasped, covering his candle with both hands.
"Um, Remus, perhaps I need to have a look at that," Hermione interjected, curious about transgendered operations as it was.