Legillimens

The next few days passed slowly for Snape and he found himself having a shorter fuse than usual. He made a record fifteen first-year students cry before eleven o\'clock Monday morning (many of them boys), and by Tuesday evening he had taken a total of 300 Points from all four houses (most of them Gryffindor, of course).



He noticed McGonagall giving him sidelong glances during supper that evening, but he ignored her while he grumbled through his steak and kidney pie. When he half-choked on a bay leaf and gave a loud cough, three Ravenclaw girls sitting at the house table closest to him cried out and shoved at each other in a desperate attempt to escape, yet only managed to cause a domino effect of pushing that landed poor David Dunst on his arse off the far side of the bench.



Normally, Snape would have found this rather amusing, but today it was merely annoying. Stupid Ravenclaws.



Later that evening, there was a knock on his chamber doors. Snape sighed in exasperation and shrugged on his robes.



"This had better be bloody-well important! Is the South Wing on fire?" He brusquely opened the door to reveal McGonagall\'s smiling face.



"Oh, there\'s a fire, Severus, and I suppose you could call it the South Wing."



Snape barked out a laugh. "Come in, Minerva. I was just about to make some tea. Do you fancy some??"



"Mmm," she replied. "Tea would be lovely."



Snape fixed her a cup with the customary double milk, no sugar. She took it from his outstretched hand and sat down on his bed to drink the steamy liquid.



Snape sat back down at his desk and resumed grading the rolls of parchment piled there. Neither one spoke for a while but the silence was comfortable, like a soft, worn jumper. Eventually he could feel her eyes boring into him and he grudgingly put down his quill.



"Are you just here to undress me with your eyes, or was there another reason for this visit?"



"Severus," she purred, "when I do undress you, it certainly won\'t be with just my eyes." She eyed his strong back and narrow waist, evident even beneath his robes.



"Really, Minerva, you are such a relentless bint." He looked at her with great affection, and she returned in kind.



"One day," she sighed, "you will realize what a fantastic catch I am, but until that time comes, I will have to resort to shameless flirtation." Snape went over to the bed and sat down beside her. She stroked his face and pushed his head into her lap. He sighed heavily and put his feet up on the bed. She continued to run her fingers through his hair as he looked up at her.



"You\'ve been more than a bit shirty just of late," she said gently. "Even for you!"



"Nonsense," he replied. He knew she was right, she always was, but he was certainly not going to admit it.



"You miss him, don\'t you?"



"I haven\'t the slightest idea what you\'re talking about," he lied.



"Bollocks," she said with a knowing smile. "I certainly don\'t need Legilimens to read your mind. Not after all these years."



Snape closed his eyes in case she could read them too.



"Rubbish. You\'ve got it all wrong."



She said nothing for a while, letting him think that the subject was dropped. He settled comfortably in her lap and was all but asleep when she continued.



"You know, there is nothing wrong with forming attachments to people, Severus."



He snorted. "Coming from you, that\'s not too convincing." He opened his eyes and looked into her face. "When is the last time YOU formed an \'attachment\' to anyone?"



Minerva furrowed her brow, thinking.



"Hmm. A few years ago, I suppose. No one special, of course, just some greasy git that caught my eye."



Snape\'s lip curled into a grin.



"I don\'t know," he said, "Flitwick\'s not all that greasy, I\'d say."



"I mean you, you twit!" She gave a playful tug on his hair.



"I am NOT forming an attachment to Longbottom," he reiterated.



"Too bad," she said, pinching her own cheeks, "he\'s grown into quite the cutie-pie."



"Pleeeze! He\'s still a child -- and I am not a pedophile."



Minerva laughed.



"Yes, Severus, you are definitely not a nonce. I\'d have to say that you are more in the business of terrorizing children than molesting them!"



"Mmmm. You may have a point," Snape yawned.



"My point is," she went on, "that Neville is not a child anymore. He is well past the age of consent…oh, and did I mention that he\'s a bit of a looker too?"



"Yes, you did. Twice. All the more reason for him to not be interested in an old minger like myself."



"A minger? Is that how you see yourself?"



"No. That is how the world sees me. Oh, and I guess when I look in the mirror, that would be how I see myself, yes."



She traced his face with her hands, sliding her fingers along his brow and jawline.



"I beg to differ. You\'re no pretty boy, but you have a regal face. A strong jaw. And such a long, lean, long, lanky body."



"Steady on, there, Kitty. I think you might be drooling on my robes."



Minerva shrugged, unashamed.



"Guilty as charged." She leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead. "In my next life, I am SO going to be a boy."



"Hurry up then, because I\'m sure that I will end up as a much lower life form."



"Well, then I will have to come back as a boy who has a fetish for Blast-ended Screwts, I suppose."



She turned to get up and Snape moved his head to allow her access. When she reached the door, she stopped and turned to him.



"Follow your heart, Severus. It won\'t lead you astray."



"What are you talking about? All of the trouble in my life has stemmed from following my heart, not my head."



"There is a word for someone who allows their heart to lead their life."



"A woman?" Snape quipped.



"A Gryffindor," she replied, then quickly shut the door behind her, mere seconds before the tea cup Snape had been holding hit it and smashed to pieces.



……







There was fire. All around him. And black smoke. Thick tendrils of it, scratching his eyes like so many grains of sand. And heat. So much heat. The delicate hairs in his nose withered and burned. His lungs closed up against it. He was searching but could not see. The smoke and fire were the result of black magic. Dark, dark spells and they were all the more fierce because of it.



The flames licked at his robes, licked at his arms. He looked down and it wasn\'t flames, it was Tom Riddle licking him. Licking the Dark Mark on his forearm. His tongue long and forked. He cried out and recoiled, slapping away the snake. It slithered away hissing. Hissing like the ceiling beams as the water in them boiled and evaporated in the oppressive heat. Still he searched.



They found him first. Those eyes. Green as Ireland herself. As they stared at him, reflecting the dancing flames, he could feel the message as clearly as if they had spoken aloud.



This is all your fault.



"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"



Snape bolted upright, still crying out. There was no fire. There was no smoke. He was in bed. It had been a dream. The dream. He hadn\'t had it for quite some time, but it was back. Damn that Longbottom for messing around in his head like that. He lay back down and tried to catch his breath. His lungs still burned and his nose felt full of soot. He rubbed the soft fabric of his sheets along his eyes and tried to regain his composure.



"Accio wand," he whispered, then "Lumos." Of course, there was nothing to see. No serpent. No accusing green eyes. Well, thank god for small favours. Only twelve hours until he would see Neville again. He cursed himself for counting the minutes like a lonesome schoolgirl. He rolled over on his stomach but knew it was useless. There would be no sleeping tonight. Again. He sighed and slowly made his way over to his desk. He readied a new quill and opened the red inkwell. Late night parchment gradings never boded well for the students.

….





He was still in a foul mood when Neville arrived the next day.



Neville looked him up-and-down and worry clouded his blue eyes.

"Are you alright, sir? If you don\'t mind my saying so, you look like the dog\'s breakfast today."



"I do mind you saying so," said Snape primly, "but it makes it no less true."

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I\'ve had some trouble sleeping just of late."



Neville nodded.



"Oh, I hear you on that one, sir. My sleep is usually a bit ropey." He tapped his own head with one finger. "Bad dreams."



"Really?" said Snape, surprised. Not that the boy didn\'t have plenty of horrible memories to cock up a good night\'s sleep, but he usually had the sunny outlook of someone well rested. "It would seem, Mr. Longbottom, that we have more in common than was originally evident."



Neville gave him a wide smile and Snape scowled darkly in customary fashion. If Neville noticed, he didn\'t let on. He pulled out a chair and sat down, still smiling.



"What, pray tell, are you so pleased with yourself about that you have to sit there grinning like a simpleton?"



Neville blinked in surprise.



"Was your precious little wedding so enjoyable that you\'ve brought some nuptial cheer all the way from Skivenshire?"



"Well,..uh, it wasn\'t MY wedding, sir, and sure, I guess it was an okay time. That\'s not why I was smiling though."



"Do tell, Longbottom, the suspense is killing me."



Neville hunched over, his smile now long gone, and mumbled something into his chest.



"Sorry," chided Snape, "I didn\'t quite catch that, scintillating as I\'m sure it was."



"I WAS going to say," ventured Neville bravely, "that I almost enjoy coming here now, but obviously I was premature in thinking that."



"Obvious to everyone except you," Snape grumbled.



"Did I do something wrong that I don\'t know about?"



"Mr. Longbottom, we could empty the lake in front of Hogwarts and fill it to overflowing with what you don\'t know about."



Neville\'s mouth fell open in shock.



"I don\'t have to be here, you know. I mean… I understand that you probably aren\'t happy to be working with me or anything, but this isn\'t exactly a vacation for me either. It\'s like the world\'s longest detention." He paused for a moment, fearing perhaps he had gone too far, but pressed on anyway. "It\'s not like I don\'t have anything better to do!"



Snape eyed him bemusedly. "Is that a fact? And what, pray tell, would you be doing right now if you weren\'t in my company? Leading a symposium on the finer points of exploding cauldrons? Or perhaps teaching some sort of therapy group for young men who still live with their Grans?"



Neville jumped to his feet, hands clenched into fists. Snape had crossed a line and they both knew it. They stared at each other for a moment, then Neville broke the silence.



"Forget this, I\'m going to the pub to get drunk." He picked up his cloak and started for the door.



"Typical post-pubescent boy, going to solve all your problems with mind-altering substances."



Neville continued through the door, but stopped short when Snape yelled after him.



"That\'s it!"



"What? Were you not finished insulting me?" He turned around to find Snape rushing toward him… smiling?? He grabbed Neville by the arms and dragged him back into the classroom.



"I can\'t believe this didn\'t occur to me before now." He pushed Neville into a chair and crouched down in front of him.



"What is it?"



"When you managed to read Henwin\'s mind, I had asked you if he were drunk, and you said yes, but not exceedingly so, correct?"



Neville nodded, not seeing where this was going.



"What I failed to ask you was this; how drunk were you?"



Neville blushed and smiled shyly.



"Erm, I wasn\'t squiffy, but I was feeling no pain."



"Alcohol is a potion. A mind-altering drug, albeit a crude one. What were you drinking that night in Hogsmeade?"



Neville thought a moment then gave a crooked smile. "A drink they called a Russian Dragonspit?"



"Charming. And what was in this concoction?"



"I\'m not exactly sure. Something sweet, and uh, ginger, I think."



"No, what type of alcohol did it contain?"



"Vodka, I suppose."



"Vodka? Corn! Of course. It has been used in Pagan rituals for centuries. Usually in conjunction with the Solstices." He swept away and searched the spines of several books. When he didn\'t find what he was looking for, he strode out of the room. Neville sat in his chair, wondering if he should stay or if that had been the end of the conversation, when Snape suddenly returned with a bottle and two glasses.



He plunked them on the desk in front of Neville and uncorked the bottle. He poured a couple of inches of booze into each glass, then raised one in a toast. When Neville just sat there dumbly, Snape pushed the glass towards him and then put his own glass to his lips and tipped his head back, swallowing the vodka in one fluid motion.



"What are you waiting for, a bowl of pretzels? Drink up, boy."



Neville obediently put his own glass to his lips and did his best to imitate his professor, but instead, choked on the harsh fumes and ended up coughing. Snape pounded him on the back while Neville wiped at his watering eyes.



"Sorry," he said, through his spasming vocal chords, "I don\'t usually drink this stuff straight."



"No, I don\'t suppose you would." Snape conjured some pumpkin juice and added it to Neville\'s second glass. He poured himself another as well, but drank it straight, like the first one. He put his glass down on the table and eyed Neville expectantly.



"Anything yet?"



Neville\'s eyebrows scrunched with confusion, to which Snape tapped his head.



"Can you see anything yet?"



Neville did his best to gulp down his drink and shook his head. "Not yet."



Snape poured himself another glass and topped up Neville\'s as well. Neville fished around in his pockets for a moment then pulled out a silver coin. He arranged it just so on his fingertips, then tossed it onto the table so that it skipped up and landed in his professor\'s drink with a small splash. Snape snatched his glass away protectively and eyed Neville suspiciously.



"What the Hades was that for?"



Neville snickered., "It\'s a game."



"Poison Your Most Hated Professor with a Filthy Coin game?"



Neville laughed outright. "No, a drinking game. If I can bounce it into your glass, YOU have to drink, and if I miss, I take a drink. Now you have to empty your glass to get the coin and try to bounce it into my drink."



"Oh-goody, a drinking game. How gauche." Snape downed his drink and dug at the coin with one long finger. He carefully aimed it at Neville\'s drink, gave it a toss, and they both watched it bounce across the table and down to the Potions room floor.



"Well, at least it will be equally filthy for you when you have it in your drink."



"No, sir, actually, you missed, so you have to drink again. It\'s my turn to toss it this time." He poured a couple more inches into Snape\'s glass and pushed it towards him. He grudgingly grabbed it and put it to his lips as Neville went in search of the coin.



He held up the Knut triumphantly from across the room and returned, wiping it on his shirt. Snape did not look impressed.



"Hey!" Neville said, "this shirt is clean."



"I would expect that \'clean\' is quite relative in our two very different worlds."



"Fine." Neville popped the Knut in his mouth and swished it around. Snape opened his own mouth in disgust and shock, but before he could comment, Neville removed the coin and bounced it into Snape\'s newly filled glass with a resounding \'sploop!\'



"Utterly ghastly!" Snape sputtered, the revulsion evident on his face. Neville just smiled. He was quite enjoying himself. He took a long sip from his own drink, although, according to \'Toss the Knut\' rules, he wasn\'t required to, but Snape was now four or five drinks ahead of him, and he thought it best that he catch up." The vodka was creating a comfortable warmth in his belly and his head was beginning to fuzz, too. This must be some powerful stuff, he surmised, to be part of Severus Snape\'s liquor cabinet. He looked over at his former professor, who was trying to extricate the coin from his glass with fingers that were not obeying, and he grinned. Snape noticed him looking and stared back. The vodka was also burning his gut and dampening his mind.



Neville picked up the bottle and went to refill both glasses, but Snape put his hand over his own to stop him, and the spirits spilled over the back of his hand and down his fingers. Without thinking, he put them to his mouth and sucked the vodka from them. He stopped when he noticed Neville staring at him, openmouthed. Snape stared at the boy\'s slack lips and tried very hard not to think about kissing them, but of course, that never works, and therefore it was all he could think about for a moment. Well, that and more. Neville\'s mouth and eyes opened even wider and Snape covered over his thoughts.



Neville blushed and looked down at his hands, grinning shyly.



"Did you see something?" Snape asked.



"No," he lied.



Snape lifted Neville\'s chin up so he was gazing into his professor\'s black eyes.



"Try."



"Uh, okay."



Snape thought for a moment. "I will try to project something for you, alright?"



Neville looked worried but nodded.



"What was my mother\'s maiden name?"



Neville looked into Snape\'s eyes and it was as clear as if it were written there.



"Prince."



Snape\'s eyes narrowed, not believing, but Neville\'s hands shot up in surrender.



"Honestly, I didn\'t know that! I\'d never heard."



"Alright," he said, still cupping Neville\'s chin, "what was my familiar when I attended Hogwarts as a student?"



Neville again looked into those black eyes and hooked nose, and he was suddenly reminded of a raven.



"Uh, a crow?" he asked, unsure.



Snape smiled broadly and let go of Neville\'s face.



"Very good! I was trying to project \'cat\' but you came up with the correct answer anyhow. And," he continued, "other than the fact that you were staring me in the face, I couldn\'t even tell that you were…in there," he said, tapping his head.



Neville smiled, glad that he had finally done something right. He took another sip from his glass and Snape pushed his own over for a refill. Neville leaned over to pour, but almost spilled when Snape whispered in his ear.



"Let me do you now."



Neville gulped down some more vodka and pumpkin juice.



"Okay. Go ahead."



Snape squared off in front of Neville and closed his eyes, concentrating on penetrating Neville\'s mind and not swaying in the meantime. He had drunk more than twice what he had intended, his mental powers and physical coordination suffering because of it.



Images flashed before his mind. Neville dancing at a wedding. Neville writing his N.E.W.T.s, Neville kissing…was that Ginny Weasley? ...no, but who was it? Snape tried to see, but the memory slipped away …then something most curious, Neville standing before an old wardrobe, looking terrified at his own reflection, then the door opening to reveal Snape hiding inside. The real Snape grasped at the memory, but it too slipped through the fingers of his mind. Before he surfaced, he saw himself in a dress and woman\'s hat looking angry and more than a bit confused.



He left Neville\'s mind and they both had the sensation of an elastic snapping back. Neville\'s head rocked back on his shoulders and he smacked his head against an open cupboard door.



"Ow!" he said, rubbing the back of his head. "It felt like you were using a sledgehammer in there!"



"My apologies." His own head felt too large for his body. "Apparently I require all of my faculties to perform Legilimens with any finesse. Alcohol does not enhance my skills as it does yours." He looked at Neville who was still making sure his head was intact. "What was that last memory? I was in it, but I have no recollection of being there."



"Which one?" Neville asked, pouring himself another drink. He let the bottle hover over Snape\'s glass; when the professor did not answer, he filled it as well. "It was like you were shuffling a deck of cards in there."



Snape paused, unsure of how to describe it. "I was hiding in a wardrobe, and then suddenly I was wearing a dress."



Neville peered at Snape, then burst out laughing. When the professor did not look amused, he pushed his glass towards him and explained.



"That was in our third-year DADA class." When Snape still did not understand, he continued, "That was a lesson on Boggarts."



Snape\'s creased brow slowly smoothed out as the understanding dawned on him. A broad smile graced his lips as he looked at Neville in a way that was barely recognizable.



"Really? Your Boggart came out as me? I\'m flattered."



"Yeah, you would be."



"So you feared me more than a Dementor?"



"More than a hung-over Vampire Dementor… with a grudge."



Snape was quiet a moment, reveling in the compliment. His eyes had a soft, faraway look and Neville became curious.





"What does your Boggart show up as, sir?" he asked.



"I\'m not sure," said Snape, looking a bit sad. "It\'s been many years since I\'ve seen a Boggart, and at the time it was my father. The insufferable tyrant that he was. I felt about him much the same way you feel about me, I\'m sure."



Neville looked a bit sad himself. "I doubt that, sir." They were both quiet for a while, lost in their own thoughts. The vodka was making his whole body buzz now and he yawned loudly.



"You know," he said, perking up and looking over at Snape who was leaning on the desk, chin in his hands, "I\'d bet that Boggart\'s still in there."



Snape had the odd image of himself sitting in the wardrobe for the past seven years.



"We should go up there," he continued, "and see what your Boggart is now."



Neville looked so excited that Snape almost hated to beg him off.



"Mr. Longbottom, I have seen and done so many horrific things over the past forty years that I really have no need to find out which one I find the most atrocious. They all haunt me equally, and I prefer it that way."



He looked up to see Neville starring at him, searching. He tried to cover his thoughts, but in his inebriated state, it was akin to using a blanket that was too small. When you pulled it up to cover your chest, your feet and legs became exposed. Neville looked away, apparently satisfied with what he\'d found, and Snape refused to show his curiosity.



He stood up, swaying just a bit and said, "I suppose that we should call it a night."



"Yes," said Neville, "my Gran will start to get worried soon." He made to stand up as well but cracked his head again on the open cupboard above him. He crumpled to the floor groaning and clutching his skull. Snape closed the cupboard and helped him back into his chair.



"Do you require Madam Pomfrey?" he asked.



Neville touched the wound with his hand, then checked his palm for blood. There was some, but not a lot.



"No, I think I\'m okay, but Crikey! That hurts!"



Snape took a step toward him. "Let me see."



Neville obediently lowered his head, and Snape pushed his fingers through Neville\'s hair to check the wound. He grabbed his wand and illuminated it to better see the area. Although it was oozing blood, the gash itself was not very large. He touched it gently with the tip of his wand and muttered a healing incantation. Neville flinched and grabbed the professor\'s thighs. Snape suddenly became painfully aware of Neville\'s hot breath on his abdomen and his own hand gripping the boy\'s head.



"Is it very big?" asked Neville and Snape\'s wand clattered to the floor.



"I beg your pardon?" he asked, moving deftly away, lest he poke the boy\'s eye out.



"The wound. Is it very big?"



Snape retrieved his wand and fashioned his robes about himself.



"Uh, no, I\'ve performed a healing charm. It should be fine now."



Neville ran his hands through his hair and smiled tiredly. "Thanks, Professor." He stood up and began to gather his things.



"Mr. Longbottom, I don\'t think it is advisable that you attempt to Apparate while inebriated. I will send your Gran an owl, telling her that you are staying here tonight." When Neville tried to protest, Snape held up one long finger to stop him. "I insist. I will have one of the house-elves make up the Chesterfield for you." And with that he swept from the room toward his Chambers.



….



The stone floor was cold under his feet and he chastised himself for not wearing shoes. It was unlike him to leave his chambers in anything less than full robes, and here he was, wandering the halls in nothing more than a nightshirt. It must be the alcohol, he thought to himself as he peered down the hallway for the correct door. To his surprise, it was unlocked. Inside he found an assortment of cages and containment devices lining the walls and shelves. And tucked into a dark corner was the wardrobe from Neville\'s memory. The front mirror was now cracked, and the finish had been worn off around the door frames, but it was still there.



Severus rapped on the wardrobe with his knuckles and it shimmied about, ready to release its inhabitant. He stepped back and raised his wand apprehensively. With a flick of his wrist, the knob turned and the door swung open revealing only darkness behind. Then a hand, and a head of dark wavy hair, with blue eyes and freckles.



"Longbottom?" he asked, incredulous.



"I knew you\'d change your mind!" Neville gave him a big smile and Snape was taken aback. Minerva was right. (Again.) He really was an attractive lad. Puberty had been kind to him. Broad shoulders, deep chest, narrow waist. He was such a chubby, little numpty when Snape had first laid eyes on him, a clumsy, little oaf who was afraid of his own shadow. He hadn\'t exactly grown into a master wizard, but he now owned a casual confidence that was very attractive. He managed to avoid any cockiness, but still seemed comfortable in his own skin. Something that Snape had never quite accomplished. He really had to admit the boy was quite a totty.



"Uh, professor?"



Snape jumped slightly and chastised himself. He was not usually one to daydream.



"I\'m glad you came," he said breathily, advancing on Snape, who took at step back in surprise before hitting the wall behind him. Neville slid up to the professor and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I know what you\'ve been thinking." He pushed his body against Snape\'s and let his breath warm the man\'s neck. "I\'ve been thinking about you, too," he continued, pressing his hand over Snape\'s now tented nightshirt.



Snape fought valiantly to suppress the groan that spilled from his lips and he pushed Neville off of him, although the boy\'s hand continued to grind at his groin. His flimsy nightshirt did nothing to hide his excitement. On the contrary, the feel of Neville\'s hand rubbing the silky material over his shaft made it even more erotic.



"Mr. Longbottom," he panted, "this is highly improper!"



"I know," he replied, "look!"



He turned around and motioned to the wardrobe. Its cracked mirror reflected the two men and Snape barely recognized his own hungry eyes staring back at him. Neville grinned impishly and leaned back, pushing his buttocks into the man\'s groin. Snape moaned again as the pressure of Neville\'s arse and the slippery fabric of his shirt caused his already throbbing cock to swell even more.



Neville continued to shift and grind his hips against him, and Snape answered by reaching around to pull Neville closer with one hand, letting the other slip down to his pelvis. Neville\'s own nightshirt was equally tented; he gasped and covered Snape\'s hand with his own as it reached down and rubbed his pulsing erection. Both men watched themselves and watched each other in the dusty mirror\'s image as their breaths quickened and their hands became more insistent.



Neville\'s hands slipped around, behind him and caressed Snape\'s thighs and buttocks. He leaned his head back and Snape suckled his ear and let his lips trail down the boy\'s neck. Neville sighed heavily and the sound went directly to Snape\'s already responsive groin.



Snape allowed himself to close his eyes and lean his own head back, luxuriating in the feel of the boy\'s smooth hand and warm body pressed against his. He was close and he could tell that Neville was too. He leaned down to kiss his neck…Wait a minute! Leaned down? He opened his eyes and was shocked to see the reflection of himself rubbing and groping a terrified first-year Neville. The young boy\'s eyes were clamped shut and he was practically green with fright. Snape cried out in disgust and recoiled, dropping the boy. First-year Neville looked up at Snape with watering eyes and tentatively reached a hand out to touch him.



"It\'s okay, Professor. You can keep going, I\'ll be alright."



"NOOOOO!"



Snape sat up in his own bed and practically wept with relief when he realized it had been a dream. Of course it had been. He would no more molest a first-year student than he would walk the halls of the castle half naked and shoeless. He chastised himself for not being lucid of that sooner, but it took some time for his heart to stop racing and his stomach to recover. His erection, however, would not be so easily quelled.



It throbbed and hummed with such great intensity, that each minute shift of his hip or soft caress of his nightshirt made it bob and pulse as if it were an entity unto itself. All thoughts of dead, fetid carcasses and obese, cellulite-ridden trolls rolled smoothly into blue eyes and freckles and a mass of wavy hair bobbing between his legs.



Snape reached to his nightstand for his wand in the hopes of spelling the damnable boner away, but he could think of none except \'Expelliarmus\' and he wasn\'t entirely sure it would work. He tapped the end of his swollen penis once with the end of his wand, and the feel of the wood on his \'wood\' was enough to send a shudder through him. He tapped it again, harder, then rubbed the hard length of the wand down his shaft. His cock hummed like a high-pitched tuning fork, and he imagined it would practically luminesce in the darkened room.



Snape grabbed a handful of silk nightshirt and let it slide over his aching cock, then trail down to his balls. He cupped them through the delicate fabric and squeezed them firmly. He bit his lip to stifle a moan and slid the material back up to the sensitive head. The silk was as soft as he imagined Neville\'s lips to be, and he could all but see the pink tongue flicking at his dripping slit. He pulled the cloth back down to the base as he imagined Neville sinking him down to the hilt, then withdrawing, and then pushing back down again. His thighs tensed, arching his hips up, his cock begging to be pounded, but he held back and continued to drape the material tenderly over the top, gently rubbing back and forth with the side of his wand.



The softness of the silk and the hardness of his wand created an irresistible contrast and his body responded tenfold. The pressure and desire were pooling in his groin, his muscles beginning to tense in anticipation of the final release.



His breath now coming in gasps, his hands took on a life of their own and wrapped around his length, wand still in tow. He imagined grasping at the wavy, brown hair and forcing his cock further into that hot, pink mouth and feeling the back of Neville\'s throat closing in around him. The friction and the suction, the strangled grunts as Neville attempted to swallow the whole of him into that warm, wet, willing hole.



He bucked his hips and thrust wildly into his silk clad hands, and cried out to his absent would-be lover. And finally, his sweating and groping bore fruit. Thick ropes of semen spewed forth from his aching prick and he shuddered and moaned with relief and release. There was a small flash of light as something hit Snape\'s chest, but he was too enraptured to notice. The room swam before him and he gasped like a landed fish, drawing much needed oxygen into his lungs.



There were definite benefits, he mused, still panting, to knowing one\'s own likes and dislikes. He did not often allow himself the folly of tossing off, but he had, nonetheless, obtained a certain amount of skill at it.



He gingerly wiped off his wand on the sheets, then spelled the bedding and his nightshirt clean. Perhaps tonight he might be able to sleep. He leaned back onto his pillows and winced. He rubbed a hand across his chest and was surprised to find a small burn mark on his shirt and a corresponding scorch beside his left nipple. The skin there and the flesh below gave off a dull burning sensation and he scolded himself for using his wand so imprudently. He was lucky to not have charmed his penis off, and it would certainly not be something he would want to have to visit Madam Pomfrey about.



Snape closed his eyes and fell into a deep and restful sleep.