It seemed to Severus that he encountered the entire female population of
Hogwarts on his way to his quarters. It wasn't the magnificent erection
that he was sporting that caused him embarrassment, as his jacket covered
all visible signs; neither was it the looks flicking meaningfully between
him and his companion composed almost equally of shock, horror and
amusement.
It was the running commentary.
Min had spent the last three thousand years trapped in a statue; a fact he was quick to announce, and happy to repeat. Having been freed from that statue, all he could think about was sex. His considered opinion on the sexual attractiveness of anyone they met was enough to bring a blush to the fair cheek of Severus.
*I don't think much of her. She's too old; although they do say that older women are more grateful.*
There was a strong suggestion that gratitude was the most that Severus could hope for, which annoyed him. 'I'll be sure to tell Minerva that – once you've been evicted.' The reminder that this was only a temporary arrangement did manage to silence Min, but only for a moment.
*Who's the strapping wench she's talking to ....*
'Hooch,' thought Severus shortly. He was appalled by the god's attitude. He had never previously considered his colleagues as sex objects and now he was very much afraid he wouldn't be able to stop doing so. He'd never speculated on what was to be found under Minerva or Hooch's robes – and dear god he hoped that was mutual – but now Staff Meetings would trigger wholly disrespectful speculations.
Severus was even more horrified when Min leered after a seventh year student. His revulsion at the idea of laying a hand on a pupil penetrated even Min's thick skin, although he had great difficulty in grasping the idea that anyone above fourteen was not fair game. Min thought they should be wedded and bedded by now, and wasn't impressed with the idea that they were entitled to have some say in who they married. *That's unnatural.*
Thank god – any general non-specific god, and definitely not Min, who he had no reason to thank at all - he was an Occlumens second to none; he didn't want Albus wading through the filth occupying his – for the want of a better word – mind.
Although Hooch's thighs were ....
No.
They reached his quarters. Severus opened the door, and courteously ushered Hermione into his sitting room.
"I think we ought to get you into bed as soon as possible," she said briskly.
*I told you she liked you. Ask her to help you to take your clothes off; tell her you still feel weak*
"Will you shut up?" snapped Severus. Catching sight of Hermione's expression – partly amused, but slightly concerned that it might have been directed at her – he shook his head. "No, not you Hermione."
*I wish you'd make your mind up* said a disgruntled Min, *One minute it's Hermione this, and Hermione that - you don't like the old ones, you don't like the young ones - and then, when a golden opportunity comes your way, no pun intended, you turn it down. What's wrong with you?*
'What's wrong with me, is that I'd like to conduct my affairs without any interruption from third parties; I'd rather not blow my chances with Hermione by making rude and inappropriate comments; and I've never particularly fancied a ménage a trois.'
*Spoilsport*
There was the definite sense that Min had gone off in a huff, something that Severus was grateful for, perhaps now he could get on with the simple business of hunting down the Weasley Twins and making their life a living hell for the next couple of weeks. He had just the hex in mind.
He turned to Hermione, waiting patiently for him to end his internal dialogue, and said, "I rather intended visiting the Weasley's myself."
"I don't think that would be a very good idea," she said slowly. "They're much more inclined to come clean with me than with you, and, frankly, you've got more important things to worry about."
"What?" he said, faintly bewildered that there could be anything in his life more important than making the twins suffer. Repeatedly.
It was Hermione's turn to blush. "I'm fairly certain," she stuttered, "that I read somewhere that it was dangerous to maintain anerectionformorethanacoupleofhours."
Severus inserted the necessary gaps between the gabbled words, and came up with a fairly unpleasant result. "Really? What's the worse that could happen?" he said; he didn't think he wanted to know, but he didn't think he could afford not to know.
Hermione's face told him all he needed to know: the worst that could happen was very bad indeed. "You mean?" he made an abortive gesture towards his groin. Hermione nodded. Bravely, he restrained a whimper, and started running through the list of ingredients for a deflating draught.
He nodded at Hermione's soft, "I'll leave you to it then," and barely registered the fact that she'd left. Was it four ounces of Hebrian powder or three? It was so long since he'd needed to prepare a deflating draught he couldn't remember the finer details. He summoned Moste Potente Potions from his bookshelf and began to read.
Hermione had a fair idea where she would find the twins. If they had had any idea of the harm they had done, they would have gone into hiding – probably behind Molly's skirts at the Burrow – but they were serving customers in their Hogsmeade shop blissfully unaware of the nemesis descending on them.
Hermone's indignation had less to do with the indignities visited on Severus, and more to do with the curtailing of her fun last night. She'd always had a soft spot for Professor Snape. During the last year of the struggle against Voldemort she had come to appreciated his vicious sarcasm – when not directed at her – and to have some sympathy for his view that 'young Potter seemed hell bent on self-destruction.'
He at least had opposed the Order's tendency to rely on Harry to bring down Voldemort on his own, and had memorably referred to him as a 'little tosser with a hero complex' and suggested that Dumbledore couldn't tell his arse from his elbow in matters of strategy.
'Little tosser' was going too far, but the hero complex was entirely accurate and had made her and Ron take a long hard look at Dumbledore's strategy. They didn't like what they saw. The words 'expendable' and 'cannon fodder' had sprung to mind, and they had taken it on themselves to set Harry straight on a number of issues.
It had taken them weeks to persuade Harry that as the prophecy only required either he or Voldemort to die, doing something daft and getting himself killed instead of or as well as Voldie wasn't desirable or necessary.
It had worked; they'd all made it through more or less intact thanks to Harry's newfound caution. Even Harry had admitted that Snape, whilst still being an unpleasant, obnoxious and nasty piece of work, had been instrumental in his survival. So the pair of them hadn't been surprised at the news that she was going to the Hogwarts reunion party in order to see Snape.
"Just don't expect me to be nice to him," said Harry pugnaciously.
"Don't be silly," said Ron, "she wants to shag the bloke, not have him peg out from shock."
"Although," said Hermione thoughtfully, "if you just managed to, I don't know, knock him out for a bit, I could get him back to his quarters and take advantage of his weakened condition."
Harry and Ron had stared at her in horror. "You're serious," blurted Harry in amazement.
"Don't be daft," she'd replied; of course she wouldn't take advantage of Severus when he was unconscious. Where was the fun in that?
"I don't meant the unconsciousness bit, I meant the chasing Snape bit," Harry said.
She had just shrugged noncommittally, and the boys had changed the subject; they didn't want to hear about Hermione's passion for Snape, and she didn't want to talk about it. Passion was too strong a word for it as well; an interest, that's what it was. She'd just wanted to get to know the enigmatic man a bit better.
The snogging had been an entirely welcome bonus, but had been unkindly cut short; the boys had to pay.
Softly, softly at first though.
Lull them into a false sense of security, extract the maximum amount of information out of them and then make them pay as per Severus's wishes.
"Oooh, look George," said – presumably, although you could never be certain – Fred. "It's Mrs Snape."
"So it is. So it is."
Alternatively, she could hex first and ask questions later. Sod it, the Hat had never suggested she should be in Slytherin; she would leave sneaky tactics to others. She removed her wand from her sleeve and started tapping it meaningfully on her palm.
Fred – or George – eyed her warily, and then very foolishly began to snigger. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but we didn't know that Snape had the hots for you, or we'd never have put the potion into the punch."
George – or Fred – added, "We did come to your rescue as soon as we worked out what was going on."
"That, boys, is precisely the problem; or at least one of the problems."
Both boys were beginning to look a little worried. The scene they had envisaged playing out this morning – Hermione annoyed at being molested fading into a good laugh at Snape's expense – was vanishing rapidly. She wasn't grateful at being rescued, which was frightening enough in its own right, but there was another problem?
"You see, when you made that potion, you seem to have made a mistake. There were side effects."
"What effects?"
"You really don't need to know that. What you need to do is run through the making of the potion step by step, until we work out what the problem is."
"Why should we help Snape?"
"Because," said Hermione, in tones of infinite patience, "there's an easy way and a hard way to do this. This is the easy way, but we can try the hard way if you like."
The boys were not impressed by Hermione's posturing, not until she said the magic word: "Molly."
They sighed and confessed all. When they had finished babbling, Hermione couldn't find a fault in the potion they had been brewing. "Is that all?" she said. "Nothing odd happened during the making, nothing unusual at all?"
The boys exchanged meaningful looks and then one of them said, "Well, the Egyptian statue that Bill gave us the last time he was home, you know, the one with the big knob, it fell in the mixture, but that shouldn't have had an effect, should it?"
Hermione didn't think her chances with Severus would be improved if she told the boys that this was entirely the cause of his problems – it would be round the Wizarding world by the end of the day, and a full page spread in the Daily Prophet the day after – "I don't know," she said uncertainly, "I can't see how it could have done, but you'd better give it to me just in case. I'll get Madam Pomfrey to look at it and see what she thinks."
"Thanks, Hermione," the twins said, almost in unison. A quick accio later Hermione was clutching a statue of Min in her hot sticky paw. Time to return to Hogwarts and see if the recalcitrant god could be persuaded to return to his former home.
She didn't like their chances.
Min was a god, and gods didn't need to be tactful. Even so, it would have been better if he had chosen his words more carefully.
*It's a bit small isn't it?*
'I beg your pardon?' came the very frosty response.
*My new home, if you can call it that* he quickly added.
'I think it would be better if you were a little more specific.' There was no appreciable thaw in the tone of voice. The penny dropped; he thought Min meant....
*Your rooms* he said hastily. 'Your rooms are a bit small. I'm used to temple complexes*
'And where was your last home?' Min was relieved that there was at least a hint of defrosting, even though the tone was more sarcastic than he was accustomed to.
*A shelf in someone's room* he confessed.
'Ah, the Weasleys, no doubt.'
*They had red hair, if that's any help.*
'Just as I suspected. Those two were always up to something when they were at Hogwarts, and they haven't changed a bit.'
*The mark of Seth was upon them* Min agreed.
'What do you mean?'
*Red hair was always a sign of evil in Egypt*
The two parties found themselves in total agreement on something for the first time. It didn't last long. Severus found himself idly wondering what Hermione was doing, and whether she had hexed the twins into oblivion yet. Someone who had been breaking curses for a living presumably had a wide range of hexes at her disposal.
*Good god, must you always be thinking about her?* snapped Min. *Frankly, it's a little dull. She's not that good looking you know. You could do a lot better.*
'What's it got to do with you, anyway?' snapped Severus, horribly aware that his mind was dwelling on Hermione rather more than was strictly necessary.
*I'm a fertility god. I want something to fertilise.*
Severus shuddered. He really didn't want to think about the implications of that at all; that could mean, ugh, children. Best not to pursue that issue at all.
'Anyway, what's wrong with Hermione?' he asked determined to change the subject away from agriculture and breeding.
*I don't want to settle for the first with I see* came the sulky response. *You don't what to waste your first shag in 3000 years on just anyone.*
'It's my body,' thought Severus huffily, 'and I get to say who I – we – I shag.'
*Judging on present performance that's a choice between a camel-faced wrinkly, a stroppy woman with hair like a bird's nest, or the old favourite of the five-knuckle shuffle. It's not much of a choice is it?*
'She's not stroppy,' protested Severus. 'She's just forceful.'
*Yes, she is stroppy.*
'No, she isn't.'
*Yes, she is.*
There was a long silence as Severus realised that he was conducting an argument with his cock - *And losing it* - which was bordering on the insane.
There was a fraught silence between the two parties for the next couple of minutes; dignified on Severus's part, but he considered that Min was simply sulking. Then, in a faintly more conciliatory tone Min said, 'You know that draught won't work, don't you?'
'Why not?'
'Well, the erection, it's sort of one of my godly attributes, you see. So nothing short of a miracle can make it go away; well, a miracle, or....'
'Go on,' insisted Snape.
'You remember the comment about the five knuckle shuffle?'
Snape shuddered. He wouldn't pretend that he hadn't resorted to Mrs Palm and her five daughters from time to time - *Everyday and twice on Saturday, more like* - but the idea of indulging in his present condition was humiliating.
*It's the only way. It should provide – relief - for a couple of hours at least*
'You mean I'll have to keep doing this?' There was a vague suggestion of assent from his cock; he would just have to be brave. He took the usual precautions – warding the door, arranging a towel on his knees – and slowly unbuttoned his fly. Very carefully looking the other way – no man wants to get into a confrontation with his cock – he gingerly abstracted the item in question and began to work.
*Is that the best you can do?*
Severus cringed; now his wanking technique was being criticised. He had a very good mind to stop the whole process altogether and fetch a carving knife from the kitchen.
*You wouldn't do that* said very shocked Min.
'I bloody would you know. It's not like I'll ever be able to do anything with my cock with you in residence; I may as well cut it off. At least I'd get some peace and quiet.'
Recognising that he might – just might – have pushed Severus too far, Min kept silent as Severus worked his fingers rapidly backwards and forwards. A stifled gasp, a pulse of pleasure, and he was done.
*Ooooh, and another universe is made* breathed Min.
Severus carefully wiped his hands before tucking Min back away. He never wanted to have to do that again; in fact, even if Min wasn't in occupation, he doubted whether he would ever be able to wank again.
Please god let Hermione find the answer to his problem soon.
It was the running commentary.
Min had spent the last three thousand years trapped in a statue; a fact he was quick to announce, and happy to repeat. Having been freed from that statue, all he could think about was sex. His considered opinion on the sexual attractiveness of anyone they met was enough to bring a blush to the fair cheek of Severus.
*I don't think much of her. She's too old; although they do say that older women are more grateful.*
There was a strong suggestion that gratitude was the most that Severus could hope for, which annoyed him. 'I'll be sure to tell Minerva that – once you've been evicted.' The reminder that this was only a temporary arrangement did manage to silence Min, but only for a moment.
*Who's the strapping wench she's talking to ....*
'Hooch,' thought Severus shortly. He was appalled by the god's attitude. He had never previously considered his colleagues as sex objects and now he was very much afraid he wouldn't be able to stop doing so. He'd never speculated on what was to be found under Minerva or Hooch's robes – and dear god he hoped that was mutual – but now Staff Meetings would trigger wholly disrespectful speculations.
Severus was even more horrified when Min leered after a seventh year student. His revulsion at the idea of laying a hand on a pupil penetrated even Min's thick skin, although he had great difficulty in grasping the idea that anyone above fourteen was not fair game. Min thought they should be wedded and bedded by now, and wasn't impressed with the idea that they were entitled to have some say in who they married. *That's unnatural.*
Thank god – any general non-specific god, and definitely not Min, who he had no reason to thank at all - he was an Occlumens second to none; he didn't want Albus wading through the filth occupying his – for the want of a better word – mind.
Although Hooch's thighs were ....
No.
They reached his quarters. Severus opened the door, and courteously ushered Hermione into his sitting room.
"I think we ought to get you into bed as soon as possible," she said briskly.
*I told you she liked you. Ask her to help you to take your clothes off; tell her you still feel weak*
"Will you shut up?" snapped Severus. Catching sight of Hermione's expression – partly amused, but slightly concerned that it might have been directed at her – he shook his head. "No, not you Hermione."
*I wish you'd make your mind up* said a disgruntled Min, *One minute it's Hermione this, and Hermione that - you don't like the old ones, you don't like the young ones - and then, when a golden opportunity comes your way, no pun intended, you turn it down. What's wrong with you?*
'What's wrong with me, is that I'd like to conduct my affairs without any interruption from third parties; I'd rather not blow my chances with Hermione by making rude and inappropriate comments; and I've never particularly fancied a ménage a trois.'
*Spoilsport*
There was the definite sense that Min had gone off in a huff, something that Severus was grateful for, perhaps now he could get on with the simple business of hunting down the Weasley Twins and making their life a living hell for the next couple of weeks. He had just the hex in mind.
He turned to Hermione, waiting patiently for him to end his internal dialogue, and said, "I rather intended visiting the Weasley's myself."
"I don't think that would be a very good idea," she said slowly. "They're much more inclined to come clean with me than with you, and, frankly, you've got more important things to worry about."
"What?" he said, faintly bewildered that there could be anything in his life more important than making the twins suffer. Repeatedly.
It was Hermione's turn to blush. "I'm fairly certain," she stuttered, "that I read somewhere that it was dangerous to maintain anerectionformorethanacoupleofhours."
Severus inserted the necessary gaps between the gabbled words, and came up with a fairly unpleasant result. "Really? What's the worse that could happen?" he said; he didn't think he wanted to know, but he didn't think he could afford not to know.
Hermione's face told him all he needed to know: the worst that could happen was very bad indeed. "You mean?" he made an abortive gesture towards his groin. Hermione nodded. Bravely, he restrained a whimper, and started running through the list of ingredients for a deflating draught.
He nodded at Hermione's soft, "I'll leave you to it then," and barely registered the fact that she'd left. Was it four ounces of Hebrian powder or three? It was so long since he'd needed to prepare a deflating draught he couldn't remember the finer details. He summoned Moste Potente Potions from his bookshelf and began to read.
Hermione had a fair idea where she would find the twins. If they had had any idea of the harm they had done, they would have gone into hiding – probably behind Molly's skirts at the Burrow – but they were serving customers in their Hogsmeade shop blissfully unaware of the nemesis descending on them.
Hermone's indignation had less to do with the indignities visited on Severus, and more to do with the curtailing of her fun last night. She'd always had a soft spot for Professor Snape. During the last year of the struggle against Voldemort she had come to appreciated his vicious sarcasm – when not directed at her – and to have some sympathy for his view that 'young Potter seemed hell bent on self-destruction.'
He at least had opposed the Order's tendency to rely on Harry to bring down Voldemort on his own, and had memorably referred to him as a 'little tosser with a hero complex' and suggested that Dumbledore couldn't tell his arse from his elbow in matters of strategy.
'Little tosser' was going too far, but the hero complex was entirely accurate and had made her and Ron take a long hard look at Dumbledore's strategy. They didn't like what they saw. The words 'expendable' and 'cannon fodder' had sprung to mind, and they had taken it on themselves to set Harry straight on a number of issues.
It had taken them weeks to persuade Harry that as the prophecy only required either he or Voldemort to die, doing something daft and getting himself killed instead of or as well as Voldie wasn't desirable or necessary.
It had worked; they'd all made it through more or less intact thanks to Harry's newfound caution. Even Harry had admitted that Snape, whilst still being an unpleasant, obnoxious and nasty piece of work, had been instrumental in his survival. So the pair of them hadn't been surprised at the news that she was going to the Hogwarts reunion party in order to see Snape.
"Just don't expect me to be nice to him," said Harry pugnaciously.
"Don't be silly," said Ron, "she wants to shag the bloke, not have him peg out from shock."
"Although," said Hermione thoughtfully, "if you just managed to, I don't know, knock him out for a bit, I could get him back to his quarters and take advantage of his weakened condition."
Harry and Ron had stared at her in horror. "You're serious," blurted Harry in amazement.
"Don't be daft," she'd replied; of course she wouldn't take advantage of Severus when he was unconscious. Where was the fun in that?
"I don't meant the unconsciousness bit, I meant the chasing Snape bit," Harry said.
She had just shrugged noncommittally, and the boys had changed the subject; they didn't want to hear about Hermione's passion for Snape, and she didn't want to talk about it. Passion was too strong a word for it as well; an interest, that's what it was. She'd just wanted to get to know the enigmatic man a bit better.
The snogging had been an entirely welcome bonus, but had been unkindly cut short; the boys had to pay.
Softly, softly at first though.
Lull them into a false sense of security, extract the maximum amount of information out of them and then make them pay as per Severus's wishes.
"Oooh, look George," said – presumably, although you could never be certain – Fred. "It's Mrs Snape."
"So it is. So it is."
Alternatively, she could hex first and ask questions later. Sod it, the Hat had never suggested she should be in Slytherin; she would leave sneaky tactics to others. She removed her wand from her sleeve and started tapping it meaningfully on her palm.
Fred – or George – eyed her warily, and then very foolishly began to snigger. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but we didn't know that Snape had the hots for you, or we'd never have put the potion into the punch."
George – or Fred – added, "We did come to your rescue as soon as we worked out what was going on."
"That, boys, is precisely the problem; or at least one of the problems."
Both boys were beginning to look a little worried. The scene they had envisaged playing out this morning – Hermione annoyed at being molested fading into a good laugh at Snape's expense – was vanishing rapidly. She wasn't grateful at being rescued, which was frightening enough in its own right, but there was another problem?
"You see, when you made that potion, you seem to have made a mistake. There were side effects."
"What effects?"
"You really don't need to know that. What you need to do is run through the making of the potion step by step, until we work out what the problem is."
"Why should we help Snape?"
"Because," said Hermione, in tones of infinite patience, "there's an easy way and a hard way to do this. This is the easy way, but we can try the hard way if you like."
The boys were not impressed by Hermione's posturing, not until she said the magic word: "Molly."
They sighed and confessed all. When they had finished babbling, Hermione couldn't find a fault in the potion they had been brewing. "Is that all?" she said. "Nothing odd happened during the making, nothing unusual at all?"
The boys exchanged meaningful looks and then one of them said, "Well, the Egyptian statue that Bill gave us the last time he was home, you know, the one with the big knob, it fell in the mixture, but that shouldn't have had an effect, should it?"
Hermione didn't think her chances with Severus would be improved if she told the boys that this was entirely the cause of his problems – it would be round the Wizarding world by the end of the day, and a full page spread in the Daily Prophet the day after – "I don't know," she said uncertainly, "I can't see how it could have done, but you'd better give it to me just in case. I'll get Madam Pomfrey to look at it and see what she thinks."
"Thanks, Hermione," the twins said, almost in unison. A quick accio later Hermione was clutching a statue of Min in her hot sticky paw. Time to return to Hogwarts and see if the recalcitrant god could be persuaded to return to his former home.
She didn't like their chances.
Min was a god, and gods didn't need to be tactful. Even so, it would have been better if he had chosen his words more carefully.
*It's a bit small isn't it?*
'I beg your pardon?' came the very frosty response.
*My new home, if you can call it that* he quickly added.
'I think it would be better if you were a little more specific.' There was no appreciable thaw in the tone of voice. The penny dropped; he thought Min meant....
*Your rooms* he said hastily. 'Your rooms are a bit small. I'm used to temple complexes*
'And where was your last home?' Min was relieved that there was at least a hint of defrosting, even though the tone was more sarcastic than he was accustomed to.
*A shelf in someone's room* he confessed.
'Ah, the Weasleys, no doubt.'
*They had red hair, if that's any help.*
'Just as I suspected. Those two were always up to something when they were at Hogwarts, and they haven't changed a bit.'
*The mark of Seth was upon them* Min agreed.
'What do you mean?'
*Red hair was always a sign of evil in Egypt*
The two parties found themselves in total agreement on something for the first time. It didn't last long. Severus found himself idly wondering what Hermione was doing, and whether she had hexed the twins into oblivion yet. Someone who had been breaking curses for a living presumably had a wide range of hexes at her disposal.
*Good god, must you always be thinking about her?* snapped Min. *Frankly, it's a little dull. She's not that good looking you know. You could do a lot better.*
'What's it got to do with you, anyway?' snapped Severus, horribly aware that his mind was dwelling on Hermione rather more than was strictly necessary.
*I'm a fertility god. I want something to fertilise.*
Severus shuddered. He really didn't want to think about the implications of that at all; that could mean, ugh, children. Best not to pursue that issue at all.
'Anyway, what's wrong with Hermione?' he asked determined to change the subject away from agriculture and breeding.
*I don't want to settle for the first with I see* came the sulky response. *You don't what to waste your first shag in 3000 years on just anyone.*
'It's my body,' thought Severus huffily, 'and I get to say who I – we – I shag.'
*Judging on present performance that's a choice between a camel-faced wrinkly, a stroppy woman with hair like a bird's nest, or the old favourite of the five-knuckle shuffle. It's not much of a choice is it?*
'She's not stroppy,' protested Severus. 'She's just forceful.'
*Yes, she is stroppy.*
'No, she isn't.'
*Yes, she is.*
There was a long silence as Severus realised that he was conducting an argument with his cock - *And losing it* - which was bordering on the insane.
There was a fraught silence between the two parties for the next couple of minutes; dignified on Severus's part, but he considered that Min was simply sulking. Then, in a faintly more conciliatory tone Min said, 'You know that draught won't work, don't you?'
'Why not?'
'Well, the erection, it's sort of one of my godly attributes, you see. So nothing short of a miracle can make it go away; well, a miracle, or....'
'Go on,' insisted Snape.
'You remember the comment about the five knuckle shuffle?'
Snape shuddered. He wouldn't pretend that he hadn't resorted to Mrs Palm and her five daughters from time to time - *Everyday and twice on Saturday, more like* - but the idea of indulging in his present condition was humiliating.
*It's the only way. It should provide – relief - for a couple of hours at least*
'You mean I'll have to keep doing this?' There was a vague suggestion of assent from his cock; he would just have to be brave. He took the usual precautions – warding the door, arranging a towel on his knees – and slowly unbuttoned his fly. Very carefully looking the other way – no man wants to get into a confrontation with his cock – he gingerly abstracted the item in question and began to work.
*Is that the best you can do?*
Severus cringed; now his wanking technique was being criticised. He had a very good mind to stop the whole process altogether and fetch a carving knife from the kitchen.
*You wouldn't do that* said very shocked Min.
'I bloody would you know. It's not like I'll ever be able to do anything with my cock with you in residence; I may as well cut it off. At least I'd get some peace and quiet.'
Recognising that he might – just might – have pushed Severus too far, Min kept silent as Severus worked his fingers rapidly backwards and forwards. A stifled gasp, a pulse of pleasure, and he was done.
*Ooooh, and another universe is made* breathed Min.
Severus carefully wiped his hands before tucking Min back away. He never wanted to have to do that again; in fact, even if Min wasn't in occupation, he doubted whether he would ever be able to wank again.
Please god let Hermione find the answer to his problem soon.