Shedding

A/N: Silly plotbunny refused to leave me alone. It's complete and I don't intend to ever write more of this. (Mind you, I never intended to write this in the first place, so...)

NoSex - No actual sex (bit difficult, between a building and a creature, really) but a lot of suggestive language and between-the-lines sexual content. Tentatively added this.

Other tag slapped onto it for multiple reasons - for one, it's an obvious Crack!fic, secondly, there's use of language suggesting a sexual and/or sensual occurrence between an animal and a building. Thirdly, it's 1st person present tense, which I know many people dislike.

Contro because, well, it's animal/building.

Reviews are always welcome.

Shedding

Slithering through the long pipes in Hogwarts’ walls… So many that I used to fit into have become too small, for I have grown to a size befitting of the Serpent’s Great Queen.

Even those I fit through now seem more narrow than they used to be, my long body tightly pressed into it, the pipes pressing on me like my tight skin that should be shed. My tongue tastes the damp air, sweetened with rot and decay.

I press myself further into the hole, deeper, the pipe narrowing ever so slightly with every turn and it is only by pressing the end of my tail against the pipe’s crooks and turns that I can go forward, but it is an increasingly tight fit.

My body itches slightly, the upper skin so closely pressed against the once smooth but now rough pipe, a thin layer of rust settling on my scales.

Yet I know the itch would be worse were I not here, not pressing my body into this tight spot, and the rust matters not, for my skin will soon shed. I feel an almost-hunger in me, though I need no food for a few sundowns more.

Deeper, tighter. I press my tail into the pipe’s twist I came through, pushing myself forwards. My itch slightly relieved by the rough metal scraping over my scales, the tight hold of my skin loosened a little, the stretched skin finally splitting.

I press myself further, rubbing my body against the hard and rough pipe, finally seeing clearly again as the old skin peels back on itself, the old brille, having gone clouded as my skin became ready to shed, no longer covering my eyes.

I wriggle and slither further through the pipe, pressing my body against it closely, rubbing against it, as though trying to become one with it. With some relief, I feel the itch lessen some more, the skin folding further. Not much further, not much longer…

I can feel it slowly sliding further back while I go forward, thrusting myself into the pipe, enclosed by it, tightly fitting into it. I can now see the end of the pipe in the distance, leading back to the Speaker’s chamber like so many of them do. My tongue tastes the air. The air is harsh and almost biting, not damp and sweet of rot and decay and prey, but dry and filled with dust and stone and rust.

Finally the skin folds back far enough and with one last thrust I slither out of both skin and pipe, returning to the Speaker’s chamber.