Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. It is not intended to be reflective of the work of J.K. Rowling; or to infringe on the rights held by Warner Brothers. Leda is an original character, not part of the Harry Potter series.
When Sevie Met Leda
(Summary: Sparks, food, and an assortment of other things fly when Professor Snape matches wits with a , free-spirited muggle named Leda.)
"There is something to be said for having a shower assistant," Snape murmured contentedly while Leda soaped his back.
"Sir. Yes Sir," she said, affecting her best military tone.
"Do a proper job, and I might consider keeping you."
"You do know I have a loofa in my hand," she warned.
He chuckled softly, enjoying the gentle friction as she scrubbed . She ran her hands in slow circles down his back, rinsing him. "There. Now you do me," she said, smoothing her hair over her shoulder, and turning her back to him. He raised his brows as he slowly turned to survey the task at hand.
"Leda, you do know how to turn a phrase."
When he hesitated, she remembered the loofa in her hand.
"Oh, here you go," she offered .
"No thank you; I'm waiting for the lift," he replied, tracing his fingers lightly down the special place on her back.
"The what? Ohhh…," she sighed, leaning over, and raising her hips reflexively.
"There it is," he murmured, a sly smile playing at his lips.
Afterward, they lay sprawled on his bed, two contented otters luxuriating in a sea of satin sheets.
"Leda, how long has it been?
She turned her head slowly, her eyes wide with mock disbelief.
He winced, and covered his face in exasperation. "How long have we been together?"
"We have been annoying, harassing, and generally interfering with each other for around three months."
"Seems like a lifetime.." His voice had a faraway tone.
"Oh, you are so off my Christmas card list!" she huffed, feigning offense.
"That is not what I meant, and you know it," he said, pulling her over to him, and lowering his mouth toward hers.
She turned her head in defiance. "No, I'm hurt."
He kissed her shoulder instead. "Does this hurt?" "How about this?" he murmured, softly nibbling her throat. "Leda, I can feel your heart pounding.. doesn't take much."
"Oh, you're not getting off that easy," she promised, easing him onto his back, and straddling him.
She was of course wrong; but Snape kept that enjoyable bit of verbal subterfuge to himself.
He liked to watch her sleep. She had caught him at it once, and suggested that he "take a picture." The look of inspiration that played over his face had made her retreat beneath the covers in alarm.
How on earth did this sprite, this mischief- maker with the womanly body come to be in his bed? He surveyed her unruly honey hair, her long dark lashes, the full lips, the pale , smooth skin that looked and felt like polished silk.
How had he ever managed to put up with her?
How had he ever managed without her..
He remembered the first day she'd come to work at the schools library. He had heard a jingling sound; and turned to see her walking away, a decorative belt of coins bouncing against her bottom.
"Oh, that's Leda, our new library clerk," Dumbledore said, waving his hand in front of Snapes eyes. "Severus, are you with us?"
Snape blinked with mild irritation, and excused himself.
What on earth had she taken exception to?
At lunch that same day, he had simply noted,(and rightly so), that muggles could at times be rather primitive. The look that she'd shot him left little doubt that he'd offended her, and there was an uncomfortable silence between them for several minutes. She had however, come to her senses by the end of lunch. When they walked out of the dining area, had she not reached up to caress his cheek with the back of her hand? She smiled, and commented on the smoothness of his skin.
He was wholly unprepared for the shaving cream missile which splattered him when he opened his locker at end of day.
He had been conflicted; but then felt a wicked sense of satisfaction when the teacake he'd sent her the next day, popped when she touched it, showering her with icing. He had been standing nearby, ready to enjoy the fruits of his effort. Leda sat stock still for a moment, then slowly inclined her head to one side, peeking at him over her iced shoulder. He had leaned over, a repressed smile playing at his lips, as he offered her a napkin. She accepted his offering, following his gaze to a bit of icing that had melted, and was now tracing its way down to the brimming flesh at the top of her soft sweater. "Very sweet," she smiled at him, her eyes twinkling.
The next several days had been uneventful; perhaps she had learned her lesson. They had engaged in easy conversation during breaks; and she seemed most interested in his teaching methods. She sat quietly and nodded appreciatively in response to his views while gazing deeply into his eyes.
Yes, she had come to her senses.
He knew this of a certainty when she handed him the slide presentation he'd ordered . She was most solicitous; even stopping to lightly caress both his hands, and ask if he needed help managing the package.
He should have known.
As was his custom; he strode casually between tables of students during the presentation. He did not need to look at the screen; he knew the subject by rote.
The nervous tittering tipped him off. He dismissed it at first; but when it had spread through the whole of the class, a feeling of dread made him turn to the screen.
The raven-haired muggle woman with the saucy expression and black leather swimsuit sabotaged him at every turn.. here, cracking a whip, there kicking her legs in the air, and in a final act of defiance, proffering her round backside while winking over her shoulder.
The applause from the students did not distract him from his plotting.
Snape was amazed at his own cool patience . The opportunity presented itself at the start of the following week. He had complimented Leda on her long, flowing skirt; asking if she'd made it herself. She seemed genuinely pleased at his inquiry.
At teatime, he purposefully dropped his napkin. Not long after, Leda had let out a little gasp, and begun a sort of nervous twitching. At length, Dumbledore became alarmed, and was not satisfied with her weak attempts at being casual.. Snape had feigned mild concern, and seemed more interested in regaling the table with how much his students had enjoyed the slide presentation of last week.
After a minute or two, a red-face Leda excused herself , and sprinted from the table. Professor McGonagall blinked in confusion, and hurried after her in the event she needed assistance.
When McGonagall returned, wide-eyed, and resolute several minutes later; Snapes mouth wetted with anticipation.
"This will not do!" she said, jabbing the table with her finger. "She was completely unprepared .You've got to talk to her Albus!"
"About what, may I ask?"
"The wee beastie!", McGonagall hissed .
"Wee beastie?" Dumbledore asked; his eyebrows arching as he leaned forward.
McGonagall leaned in to meet him. "She's had a ferret up her skirt!"
Dumbledores head tilted; his eyes glazing.
Snape luxuriated in the moment. He wanted to bathe in it.
"And what, pray tell, am I to tell her about having a ferret up her skirt?" Dumbledore had posed the question, knowing full well he would regret having done so.
"She wasn't wearing underpants!" McGonagall shot back.
The explosive coughing fit that erupted from Snape made them both jump.
To Wormtails dismay, Snape had kept the rodent as a living symbol of his cunning, offering it his protection when it scampered down the hallway with a stolen tea towel , and allowing it to loll contentedly on his lap as he read the morning paper.
He strode in triumph around the school, magnanimous to all who encountered him. Leda was only peeking at him; shy and contrite. after having received what was supposed to have been a lecture from Dumbledore on the importance of underpants. For the sake of propriety, Professor McGonagall was witness to the admonishment. It consisted chiefly of reassurances that Leda was doing "very well", interspersed with inquiries as to her general health, and variations on the theme of how nice it was to be having "this little chat". McGonagall sat discreetly to one side, smiling weakly, and giving the headmaster "get on with it" looks. For her part, Leda sat bolt upright, her hands clasped demurely in her lap, looking very much like a deer in headlights. After ten interminable minutes, McGonagall had had quite enough.
"Oh, look at the time!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, already?" Dumbledore asked, deeply relieved.
"This has been very instructive, has it not Leda?" McGonagall smiled.
"Oh yes professor, very helpful. Thank you so much Professor Dumbledore," Leda said, making a small, weak curtsy before disappearing through the door.
Dumbledore closed his eyes and exhaled.
"Albus, you've missed your true calling," McGonagall said, thoughtfully.
At her words, the headmaster stood taller, and brightened.
She continued, "Never, in the whole of my life, have I heard anyone talk for so long and say absolutely
nothing. You should have run for office."
After she left ,he turned to his old friend. The phoenix had turned on his perch, and was now giving him an embarrassed sideways stare.
"Oh, not you too."
For once, Dumbledore had been glad to escape the confines of his office. He caught up with Snape in the hallway; reminding him of their plans for the next evening.
Snape was not one for such celebrations; but it was his birthday, and a quiet gathering with a few friends might make for a pleasant diversion. He walked down the hallway, and found he could not pass the library door. Leda caught him staring at her before he could escape.
"Good morning Professor Snape," she chimed, her eyes warming
He took a step into the doorway. His lips parted, and he began to lose himself in her smoky cinnamon eyes…those eyes that flashed with pleasure when he was near.
He wanted.. he wanted…
To his horror, he felt his face flush.
"Yes. It is., " he declared, and hurried away.
The gathering at the pub the next night was staid, though pleasant enough. After some good-natured ribbing, and a few beverages; he had settled back comfortably in his chair, enjoying the slight haze that was forming in his brain. Then, as his eyes were trying to focus, he noticed the muggle police officer standing beside Dumbledore.. the female police officer. She was clearly all business, stiff and expressionless behind her dark sunglasses. She addressed the headmaster.
"Sir, we have a report of someone in possession of a concealed weapon at this address," she consulted a small notebook she had removed from her belt. Snape couldn't help but notice the fuzzy pink handcuffs that hung in front of her thigh. "I need to speak to a mister Severus Snape."
Dumbledore pointed with wide eyes and feigned concern in Snapes direction.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the table."
As she guided him to the bar, he raised his brows, but made no protest.
"Sir, if you would put your hands on the bar, and spread your legs.. I'm going to need to do a full-body search."
Her hands ran slowly down the length of his body, kneading him, sending his mind elsewhere. When she slid them to the tops of his thighs, and gave him a little squeeze,; she had his full attention. She gently turned him toward her, as music rose to envelope them. He followed obediently as she took his hand in hers, and led him to an open space on the floor. Their hands clasped lightly, as they began to sway together to the slow pulsing beat. In his relaxed state, Snape was remarkably fluid in his movements; capturing, then releasing her, while drawing her ever closer. As the tempo increased, he slipped his arm around her waist and swirled her smoothly around the floor. The past and future disappeared , and all they knew was this moment, and each other.
At length., the music faded, and they held each other close, breathless and exhilarated.
"Severus, you are a man of many talents!", McGonagall laughed, appearing from the back room. "Come blow out your candles," she said, setting a gaily decorated cake on the table.
As he looked back to the woman in his arms; she found his mouth in a soft, deep kiss. His companions murmured their approval. She broke the kiss, and lowered her sunglasses.
"Leda!", he breathed.
"Happy birthday," she whispered, beaming up at him.
He felt her arms tighten as she pressed herself into him. He had tried to read the emotion in her eyes, in the curve of her full lips, but found himself beyond reason. His brain flooded with the warmth and the scent of her.
"Severus, if you can tear yourself away..", a voice laughed from the table.
"Uh, yes," he responded, wanting desperately to ignore them. He strode quickly to the table, blew out the candles to the applause of his friends, then turned back to Leda.
She was gone.
He had awakened the following morning with a head that was threatening to fall from his neck at any moment. He rallied, and by some miracle, had made it to school
As he was tapping his cup, lost in thought, he heard a movement , then felt the brush of her thigh as she sat down beside him. The touch felt intrusive.. he stiffened, but would not turn away.
"Is this where you ask me what I'm thinking?' he asked, coolly.
"No," she replied cautiously, "This is where I ask you if you enjoyed your birthday."
He recovered himself somewhat. "It was adequate."
"Adequate.." she started to rise from her chair, "Well, that's nice."
"You deserted me."
She sat down heavily. "That party was for your friends."
"And just what are we?" he shot back.
Leda looked around, noting that they had drawn an audience. "Could we have this conversation somewhere else?"
Snape was oblivious. He had knocked his chair over, and was now engaged in a boisterous listing of Ledas transgressions , complete with physical illustrations.
"First, I'm splattered with shaving cream! Then, it's pinup poses during lecture ! I'm felt up at pub.. "
The "Oy! Oy! Oy!" that sounded from the Slytherin table made her grab his wrist, and pull him unceremoniously toward the door.
"I do hope you found some shred of dignity during the search; heaven knows, I haven't!" he shouted.
They found themselves in an alcove a discreet distance away before he pulled his wrist from her hand in a huff. Leda had her back to him; her face in her hands. He was still agitated, but her quietness made him conciliatory.
"That was a bit much.." he offered.
No response.
"I am not accustomed to.."
She turned slowly to face him, dabbing at her eyes.
"You big growly bear of a man ."
He stood frozen to the spot.
She walked over to him, shaking her head, and slid her arms around his waist.
"I absolutely adore you."
With a quizzical expression, he wound his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.
"Leda, what are we?"
She tapped lightly on his chest, "You are a grumbly bear.."
"And you are a.."
"Watch it!" she cautioned.
"Leda, I want to know."
"Does everything have to be labeled, and measured, and quantified?"
"I need to know."
She lowered her head. "When I came here, I was a fish out of water. . Everyone was very nice.. and very careful around me. But you ..you spoke to me just as you would anyone else. I was at ease with you from the very beginning."
She looked up. "With you , I was home."
He studied her eyes.. No sign of mischief, only softness and desire.
"Leda, what are we?"
She caressed his lower lip with the tip of her thumb.
"Home," she whispered.
He gathered her to him, his mouth covering hers. Years of want flooded through him as he held her tightly, squeezing, and caressing her, nearly lifting her from the floor. He breathed raggedly, broke the kiss, and grasped the back of her head, exposing her throat. He traced his parted lips up the length of her , savoring her taste, her scent, her softness. When he enveloped her mouth again, she trembled, and gasped softly, overcome by his hunger, and her own aching answer. He tilted his head to various angles, kissing, then nibbling and nipping at her lips, enjoying the novelty of exploring her. When he felt her falter; he softened his embrace, allowing her to breath, and lean against him for support She looked up at him in amazement, unable to speak. Several splay-fingered pats on his chest would have to do.
"Wow.. Where did THAT come from ?" she finally breathed.
"From everywhere," he said quietly, rubbing the length of her back..
"I like Everywhere. We must go there more often," she said, arranging herself against him comfortably.
A sudden inspiration took him. He adopted an authoritarian tone.
"I prefer the here and now. There's the small matter of a pair of handcuffs I found hidden in my office."
"Oh, that.." Leda said dismissively, "I was just being.."
"They looked a lot like these," he said, pulling them from his pocket.
"Oh.." she mouthed, startled by the sudden gleam in his eye. "Oh, you wouldn't.," she pleaded, backing away.
He was advancing on her.
"Severus, no, no ,no!"
As laughing students parted in the hallway; McGonagall and Dumbledore stared in fascination at the sight of Snape striding quickly to his class.. cuffed at the wrist to a chagrinned Leda, who was nearly sprinting to keep up with him.
"Albus..," McGonagall began.
"Minerva, I DON'T want to know."
Leda, the conscript , had 'assisted' Snape through three potions classes.
He had taken immense pleasure in using his cuffed arm to make frequent, dramatic gestures during each lecture; making her look like a bemused puppet presenter .She adapted quickly to his teaching style; gesturing gracefully with her free hand, and making wholly inappropriate faces at him when he wasn't looking. Later, when he stood pondering outside the gents, she softly hummed "Getting To Know You", and won her freedom.
At dinner, Leda had found a red rose on the table before her. When she picked it up, it blossomed,: Snapes voice emanating from its heart.
"Shall I compare thee to a summers day.."
She breathed, and looked to Snape.. he held her gaze as though they were alone . The unrelenting words of love enveloped and disarmed her. Those within earshot sat in rapt silence, swept along by the beauty of the moment.
"But thy eternal summer shall not fade.."
Ledas eyes welled. Her hand trembled, and the rose fell silent. She looked at it in alarm.
"Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st.." Snape continued. from his table.
Her face shone, as she looked to him tenderly. Their voices met and melded, as they finished the sonnet together.
When the time came for them to part ways for the evening, Leda stood quietly before him.
"Well, it has been a remarkable day" , he said, turning to escort her to the door. When she did not move, he turned back to her, a quizzical expression on his face. She placed her hand gently over his heart, and gazed
up at him.
"I would like to see your etchings."
"Leda, I don't have…oh. Oh Leda, that can be arranged.".
They melded and flowed together naturally, as though it had always been this way. Slow and sensual, a tracing kiss, a feathered caress… they claimed each other, sure in their embrace, insistent in their giving, insensible to everything, save each other. When, after several soft kisses, she had fallen asleep nuzzled against him; he buried his face in her soft hair, memorizing her scent, enjoying the warmth of her body. . He breathed deeply, immersing himself in quiet contentment , refusing to let sleep take it from him. When she snuggled closer, her thigh caressing his, he ached to take her again.. but how peacefully she slept.. a tousled golden angel..
…with a little pointed tail, he had mused.
She had confounded every notion he ever had about romance, and driven him to distraction.
He laid his head atop hers, and held her a little tighter.
She had led him a merry dance…home.
The rustle of sheets brought Snape back to the present. Leda sighed softly, stretching with cat-like abandon.
"How long did I sleep?"
"About an hour," he replied quietly.
"And you've been lying here all that time. You bone-idle thing!"
"I have not been idle. I have been remembering how we got together."
She drew herself up next to him, giving him a comforting kiss on the shoulder. "No use crying over spilt milk. You fancy Mexican?"
"What?" he asked incredulously.
"It's near noon," she said, pointing to the mantle clock, "and we have yet to feed ourselves."
"I have been remembering some very intense moments in our history."
Leda had slid to the end of the bed, and was busily dressing. "I've made two new fighting kites. I think you'll enjoy them."
"Leda!" he barked, making her jump.
She crawled obediently up the bed and sat quietly by his side.
"Leda Linden Longwoode, what am I to do with you?"
"You try to raise them right.." she said sadly, shaking her head.
She leaned over, resting her head against his. "You are a true romantic.. always thinking, always remembering."
"And you live for the moment," he said resignedly.
"Carpe diem, dude," she said , kissing him , and draping herself comfortably across his lap.
He sat back and breathed, running his hand absently over her warm, silky skin.
Every day an adventure..
"Severus.."
Do I toss her out of the nearest window , or kiss her senseless ? Is that redundant?
"Honey…"
No use fighting it. Logic must bow in the face of absurdity.
He started as Leda blew a soft raspberry on his belly.
"You're ruminating again."
He shot her The Look , knowing full well that her frequent exposure to it had rendered her immune to its effects.
"Ooh, a staring competition… right!" she chimed, sitting up eagerly astride his lap.
"Leda, can you be serious for one minute?"
"Ok, it's your dime," she said, looking at her watch.
He grasped the corner of a nearby pillow, pulling it closer. "You do know it would be justifiable homicide."
"Pled down to manslaughter," she added thoughtfully.
"They'd never convict me.."
"They'd probably give you a medal ," she smiled.
Her face suddenly softened as she looked to him. "I know I'm a handful. But honey, seriously, I want you to know.."
She lowered her head, sighed, and slowly raised it again . "It doesn't have to be Mexican…"
His grip on the pillow tightened.
"I like Indian as well!" she shouted, jumping from the bed, while dodging the missile.
She grabbed a bust of Shakespeare which she had adorned with fuzzy pink cuff 'spectacles'.
"You wouldn't hit a man with glasses, would you?" she yelled from behind the Bard .
"Oh, Leda," he said, rearming, "if you only knew."