Lacarnum Inflamarae
A note from the author: This was inspired by a prompt from the wonderful Tyche Song, for an "any pair, any ship" BDSM fest about a year ago. Of course, my favorite pairing is HGSS, so that was a no-brainer, but the BDSM was a bit tough for me, to write both interestingly and responsibly...thus the delay.
I think the biggest reason people choose BDSM lifestyles is to learn balance, acceptance, tolerance and patience. To that end, I have written something a bit apart from some of the lovely fics written about our favorite couple that talk about Domination and submission. This is more about those of us who are thrust into the role of a top—or a bottom—without the necessary personality or tools to handle it. Sometimes, when we are forced into roles so opposite our personalities, we need a little of the opposite extreme to balance that out.
Another note: I have a bit in the story on goose paté. Please understand that the views I'm writing are simply how I would see these characters express them, not necessarily how I feel about it. I know that this is a sensitive subject in both directions, so please remain calm. I am writing fanfiction, here, after all.
So without further ado, I present the first chapter of Lacarnum Inflamarae, titled "Lorem Ipsum"
Lorem Ipsum - 1914 translation by H. Rackham"But I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system, and expound the actual teachings of the great explorer of the truth, the master-builder of human happiness. No one rejects, dislikes, or avoids pleasure itself, because it is pleasure, but because those who do not know how to pursue pleasure rationally encounter consequences that are extremely painful. Nor again is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself, because it is pain, but because occasionally circumstances occur in which toil and pain can procure him some great pleasure. To take a trivial example, which of us ever undertakes laborious physical exercise, except to obtain some advantage from it? But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain that produces no resultant pleasure?"
My interpretation that inspired this story – 2013
A man will not seek out pleasure until he has been exposed to it—that if he doesn't know what it is, he will continuously seek out pain. Once he understands that with a bit of pain, he may obtain pleasure, he will continue to work hard to do so, but once it is revealed to him that he may pursue pleasure for its own benefit, he will do so wholeheartedly.
Of a late spring evening at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the current Headmaster was sat somewhat comfortably in a brown, tufted leather settee, trying to read. After a few quiet moments, and with a disgusted snort, he tossed down the newest installment of a rather popular serial novel. Not for the subject matter or even the quality of work—it was actually rather decent and would normally keep his attention—but he felt...just...antsy.
Nothing was satisfying, anymore. Nothing held the same flavor of life. It felt as if most of his life's zeal had bled out on the floor of the Shrieking Shack almost two years ago, and the rest had been slowly hemorrhaging ever since.
Well, the first few months back after recuperation and reinstatement had been rather entertaining, watching Minerva, Filius and Pomona fawn all over their apologies, but that wasn't nearly enough to keep him through the past few months.
Running the school was a relentless task, something that, intellectually, he enjoyed, but as the furor of the war died, as the school reclaimed its pomp and regalia, his enjoyment in living the life of Hogwarts' Headmaster just...fizzled.
There was no great evil to hold at bay. There was no greater power to foil. Even the Prophet heralded him as the most powerful wizard alive, but when he looked in the mirror every morning, he certainly didn't feel like it.
No, Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was finally becoming bored.
He couldn't think of any other position in the British wizarding world more important than the administration and protection of the foremost magical education facility in Britain, and he really liked his job, most days. He liked the tedium, the normality, even the bureaucracy...but somehow...within the past few months, it had begun to feel...not enough.
Something was missing, and to hear Poppy talk, he just needed a companion. Offering herself in that position required no small amount of diplomacy on his part to convince her otherwise and keep her as school matron. Honestly, what need had he of a companion? He had friends, he had acquaintances, what the hell difference did it make, when he'd gone this much in life without one?
He sighed disconsolately, setting his elbow on the arm of the sofa to rest his head in his hand. Maybe he just needed a break. Maybe—maybe he just needed to suck it up, but damn it if he wasn't getting tired of being the one always tasked with making the self-sacrificing choices in life.
Pulling off his silver-framed readers, he tossed them onto the occasional table beside him, warily watching the glass candle globe tilt and wobble slightly when his elbow jarred against the wood. Just as he settled back and calipered his temples with one hand, a soft hissing and crackling noise along with a flash of green caught his attention and indicated a floo-caller.
Hmm. Not that he really wanted to entertain in this mood, but really, it could only be Lucius. He flicked his wand to open the floo and waited for the head governor to show his face. Who else would be coming to the school via the Headmaster's private quarters at seven in the evening?
Ah. Who indeed?
He pushed that pat acknowledgment to the back of his brain and greeted his long-time friend with an outstretched hand. Lucius took it with a cough and a smile, spelling his now-impeccable midnight blue robes clean.
"Headmaster."
"Governor."
They stared at each other with silent amusement for a few moments before Lucius finally broke, "Great Merlin, Severus, have you gone completely unkempt?"
When all he got in response was a vaguely affronted glare, he elaborated, "Your hair hasn't been that long since you were attending these classes yourself...And that beard! Channeling Hagrid, are we?"
Severus did not deign that with a reply, and instead asked, "What can I do for you, Lucius? I can't think you came here to chastise my tonsorial choices."
"No, I haven't. Narcissa was complaining we were out of that lovely faun brandy and since my next shipment from France won't be ready until Thursday, I was wondering if you could spare a bottle?"
That reason smacked of insincerity, but who was he to call Lucius on it? His old friend knew damned well he didn't drink, and yet had presented him with a case of brandy for his birthday a few months back. "Yes, of course." It had stung, a bit, to have such a long time acquaintance give such an insensitive gift, but that was Lucius.
Well, it was Lucius, at any rate. He'd been showing signs of being a bit more considerate of late, but that could just be an upswing in his overall profits. One never quite knew for sure with Lucius.
Severus stepped aside to his liquor cabinet and spelled it to open, pulling the entire case out to hand back to the school governor.
He didn't miss the slightly hurt expression on the blond's face, but deftly ignored it. "Here, take as many as you like."
"Severus."
Lucius' tone was chastising and Severus really didn't want to hear it. "What," he responded with flat aggravation.
"Why don't you have any out? I thought it would be a nice accompaniment should you need to wrangle Ministry officials to do your bidding. Or to calm upset parents. Circe knows, you've upset many this past year alone."
Severus stopped short, looking at the gift in this new light. Put that way, it wasn't so damned insensitive. It was damned convenient. Why hadn't he thought of it that way? Ah, bugger and fuck it. Lucius could take the lot now, it'd be no skin off his nose. The school year was nearly over, anyway.
He looked to his old friend and sighed, tipping up a shoulder in nonchalance. "That's what I've got you for, to smooth ruffled feathers. I'm sure many a mama would rather have you visit them than be handed a dose of questionable liquid fortification by their former Potions Master."
Lucius leveled a steady and questioning gaze back at Severus, and it was a moment before he replied, "Perhaps...then again, I can see you haven't even tried."
There was something about the way he said it that set Severus' teeth on edge. It sounded entirely too much like the matchmaking wheedling of his female staff and he really, really did not need to be reminded of that. It was bad enough to have such drivel cast at him from his faculty, much worse for it to be bandied about in what was supposed to be friendly conversation.
And truth be told, he didn't need the likes of Lucius Malfoy chastising him on his managerial behavior, nor on his personal grooming. Who was he to judge? What the hell did Lucius know of what he'd tried and not tried? "Take your damned brandy and hie off to someone who cares. I don't have time for your incessant badgering."
Lucius stared him down with an unnervingly Dumbledorean twinkle, tucking his chin with a dubious expression meant to pry.
Severus was just shy of telling Lucius just where he could go, when his friend relented.
"Severus, Narcissa and I are worried about you—"
He puffed an air of irritation out and shoved the case of brandy into the blond's hands. "Stop, before you hurt yourself. I've never needed mollycoddling, and I'm not about to start. So, forbearing repetition, take your devil's brew back to your wife and leave me be."
"Severus—"
The Headmaster cut his irritating and nosy friend off with a warning glare. Lucius sighed resignedly through his perfectly-shapen nostrils and flooed away.
With a vicious jab, Severus sent a spell to block the floo and cursed, loudly.
He cursed his nosy friend for thinking he could just come over and throw his worries on him; he cursed his meddling staff for thinking they could tell him what to do with his life; and he cursed himself for not knowing why he even considered listening to them in the first place.
Everything was fine. He just needed to set his mind straight and get over it.
It was Fine.
The rest of his night was spent in a restless, unproductive fuss about his chambers. He didn't even have a decent potion puzzle to tinker with. Catching sight of himself in a mirror, he cringed.
Lucius was right about one thing. His beard was starting to look like Hagrid's.
A/N: You know what I want ;)