Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters and settings belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for the fun of it…no monetary gain is sought.
This story is dedicated to scattered logic for her cherished friendship and all her invaluable help. :)
Chapter Two: Do You See What I See?
Alone in the infirmary, Snape leaned back in disgust and watched Draco Malfoy make yet another failed attempt to capture the snitch. This match had dragged on interminably, and it was becoming painfully obvious that Gryffindor would once more come out ahead. Damn that useless brat anyway! With him as team seeker there was very little chance of Slytherin ever regaining their rightful place as holder of the Quidditch cup. Even that idiot Potter was a better seeker. At least he could manage to stay on his broomstick in a little wind and knew enough to open his mouth if the snitch decided to fly into it. Malfoy would let it bounce off his nose first.
Shaking his head in irritation, Snape crossed his arms and stroked his chin slowly. If he thought for a moment that he could get away with it, he'd arrange for a little "accident" to befall the scion of the Malfoy clan. If ever there was a family that deserved to die out, it was them. However there was no use tempting fate. Far too much was at stake to take the chance of killing the little weasel. He just wasn't worth the risk or the time and effort that would be necessary to make a proper job of it. At a bare minimum, though, he should find a way for the arrogant little fool to repay the five Galleons that he was now about to owe to Minerva. At least it wasn't six.
After a thoughtful pause, Snape decided that he was sick of looking at Draco Malfoy and, raising his wand, he uttered the command that would make the pool show him another viewpoint. Now it focused its all seeing eye on the stands that were full to bursting with eager fans…the Gryffindor stands. "Narrow focus," he exclaimed shortly, and before he knew it, he was staring at a close up view of Minerva McGonagall, who scanned the skies avidly, as she sat in her seat on the bleachers between Albus Dumbledore and Irma Pince.
She was obviously quite excited, and why not, he thought sourly, she was about to become five Galleons richer with no effort on her part whatsoever. His eyes wandered over her flushed face, noting the sparkle in her eyes and the taut excitement that coursed through her slender body, keeping her tensely perched on the very edge of her seat. As he watched her, he could feel his own body responding to what looked very much like the signs of sexual arousal. How easily fooled the body could be when the mind was in the proper mood.
How had he ever gotten to the point where he'd found Minerva McGonagall sexually attractive anyway? A few weeks ago he'd have laughed at the mere suggestion of such an absurd idea. Yet now…it seemed obvious and quite natural. It just went to show what a little experience can do for one's perceptions.
Their arrangement had arisen as a result of one of Albus' little beginning of the year gatherings. Every year, the entire faculty and staff was subjected to one of his "it's going to be a great year" pep talks followed by a feast of massive proportions, a sickening array of sweets, and many bottomless pitchers of free flowing liquor to wash the nausea that the lecture inspired out of their mouths. This year, he'd indulged just a wee bit too freely in the liquor as the evening had progressed. In his defense, he had to admit that the pep talk had been more nauseating than usual. Potter's name having come up no fewer than four times for some ungodly reason that made no sense at all.
Apparently, Minerva had overindulged as well, though why she'd find Potter's name so nauseating he couldn't say. Perhaps it had been something else entirely that had set her off. It hardly mattered. He had vague recollections of the two of them staggering down to the dungeons together after the rest of the faculty and staff had somehow managed to find their own way back to their respective rooms. Then things got a bit hazy until he'd come abruptly back to awareness flat on his back in the middle of his very rumpled bed with her body draped across him like a blanket…both of them completely naked.
How he'd ever let himself get that drunk in front of others, he still couldn't figure out. With so much at stake tied up in his reputation, he usually tried to be much more cautious, but there it was…and there she was. A bit late to be concerned about the reasons for his lack of sobriety at that point. Naturally, his first inclination had been to express his outrage. Yet, somehow, that desire had faded to nothing when she'd raised herself up off of his body and looked down at him.
When he'd found himself surrounded by a curtain of her dark silky hair, her flushed skin glowing in the warm soft light from the dying embers of the fire, her surprisingly lovely breasts suspended in front of his face…well, suddenly it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to just shag her senseless instead of complaining about the compromising position that they'd found themselves in. And to his everlasting surprise, he hadn't regretted it for a moment. Who'd have thought that Minerva McGonagall would turn out to be the best lover he'd ever had? Though he had to admit, if only to himself, that his breadth of sexual experience was somewhat limited. No doubt due to a lack of opportunity caused mostly by severe constraints on his time and the pitiable fact that the majority of women he'd encountered in his life hadn't found him all that attractive. Not that that should take anything away from Minerva, of course.
In fact, as it turned out, both of them had found their shared experience to be too good to simply abandon after that one night. So, despite the possible difficulties, they'd continued to be lovers whenever the opportunity arose, and he'd made it a point to have it arise rather frequently. He'd been worried at first that she'd expect something more from him, some sort of cloying sentimentality, but to his surprise, she'd been the first one to insist on the understanding that their relationship would remain exactly as it had always been, with the addition of a strictly physical coming together whenever it was mutually desired. The best of all possible worlds. How could he refuse?
As he watched Minerva tighten her grip on Albus' arm and point something out to Madam Pince with an excited smile, he wondered why he'd never considered taking an older lover before this. Clearly, experience could make a very enjoyable difference in the bedroom, and Minerva possessed surprising stamina and considerable enthusiasm as well. He realized that he'd missed their liaisons intensely since he'd been confined here and vowed to do all that he could to see that they resumed as soon as possible.
Suddenly Minerva, along with her companions, jumped to her feet and began to cheer. He didn't even have to change the view to know that that insufferable idiot Potter had caught the snitch, probably right out from under Malfoy's aristocratic nose. He'd have to give some thought to a suitable punishment for the little brat…later. He watched as Minerva hugged Albus tightly and exclaimed excitedly to Madam Pince while they all began to descend from the stands. Her eyes were sparkling brightly and her face was attractively flushed.
A smug smile crossed her features just as she moved out of the line of sight of his fixed view, and Snape realized that she was most probably contemplating coming to collect her winnings. With a sigh and a discontented frown, he deactivated the scrying pool and sat back against his pillow. Too bad he was stuck here at the moment. The most exciting sex they'd had so far had happened following a rather heated argument over Quidditch. Well, apparently, he'd better prepare himself for an uncomfortable conversation when she arrived. Oh, yes, some sort of punishment for the young Mr. Malfoy was long overdue.
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The distance viewer had been emptied of water and was lying flat on the support table when Minerva entered the infirmary with a smile of triumph on her face.
"Severus, did the viewer work well for you? Did you enjoy the match?" she asked as she crossed the room to stand next to his bed.
The confined wizard stared up at her flushed features and sparkling eyes for a moment before answering. Obviously, she hadn't wasted any time coming here to rub it in. She was still wearing her cloak for goodness sake, though she had discarded that hideously unattractive hat that she always insisted on wearing.
"The viewer worked quite well, although it was rather slow to switch from one view to another at times which did make it a bit hard to follow the action. However, it was certainly preferable to hobbling over to the window and squinting into the distance in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the match from around the curve of the castle walls."
An amused smile crossed her face at the image his dry comment evoked.
"As for enjoying the match however…" His voice had become as brittle as autumn leaves. "Considering the outcome, I'm sure that you know the answer to that without my spelling it out for you."
"Surely there's more about a well played Quidditch match that holds your interest than whether or not your team wins," she said.
He snorted shortly. "I would question your applying the term "well played" to this particular match. Your Gryffindors were lucky. I found some of their aerial theatrics to be highly questionable myself."
Her smile vanished behind a sudden frown. "Questionable? Are you implying that you think my students cheated?" There was a warning in her tone.
Since there was no profit in actually getting her annoyed over this foolishness, he decided to heed it. "Of course not. If actual cheating had occurred, I'm sure that Hooch's eagle eye would've spotted it. Though, they did stretch the boundaries a few times. Potter is every bit the showboating flyboy his father was," he observed sourly.
"You're just annoyed because he managed to grab the snitch right out from under Draco Malfoy's nose," she exclaimed. "It's hardly Harry's fault if Mr. Malfoy can't spot what's hovering just beyond the end of his broomstick."
As he'd suspected! His frown deepened.
Minerva decided to change the subject. "I'm glad that the viewer worked out for you. I suppose that I should take it back up to Sibyll before she comes looking for it."
A look of alarm drifted across the captive patient's face as he contemplated getting a visit from the castle seer. "By all means, return it to her at once. Now that it's not needed as a viewer anymore, you could simply levitate it back up to her, couldn't you?"
Minerva sighed. "I wish I could, but she implied that if it required a complete recalibration upon its return that she might not loan it out to me again, and I've found it to be far too useful to take that chance. I'll manage it all right. I got it down here after all."
"I suppose so," he said with a vague look of speculation on his thin face.
"What is it?" she asked curiously. He was obviously turning something over in that devious mind of his.
"I was just wondering whether our resident clairvoyant might not make use of this pool as a viewer as well. Do you think it's possible that she might be spying on what goes on around the castle? She rarely drifts down out of that overheated lair of hers, yet she usually seems quite well versed in what's happening around the rest of the school. Of course, she implies that it's simply her all seeing inner eye, but perhaps it's really her all seeing magic mirror." He cocked his head and silently invited her opinion.
Her forehead puckered with a frown at this highly uncomfortable idea. If this was the case, then there were quite a few times over the last two months when they could have given Sibyll something really worth spying on. "Well, I certainly hope not. I suppose that it is possible, but surely she knows how inappropriate that sort of behavior would be? Still she could scan the common areas of the castle from time to time, I suppose. Oh, dear. It's not a very comforting thought, is it?" Her face had gone a little pale.
Snape could tell that Minerva was remembering their coupling in the hallway next to Flitwick's classroom…a memorable moment indeed. While he hoped that Trelawney hadn't been spying on them then, it was certainly too late to do anything about it now. A dark smirk twitched the corners of his lips. On the other hand, if she had been watching them, he hoped that she'd found the experience…educational.
Minerva shook her head. "No. Sibyll isn't known for her subtlety. If she'd seen us in the corridor, for example, I'm reasonably sure that she'd have found some way to have mentioned it to someone by now. It is something to consider for the future though."
Snape smirked. "Worried? I thought that Gryffindors were supposed to be fearless, not to mention occasionally reckless. That certainly was one of the outstanding attributes of a few other members of your stellar little group whom I could name."
A slight frostiness crept into Minerva's tone as she answered, "I'm quite sure that recklessness is not among the requirements, certainly stupidity isn't despite what you'd like to believe. We really should be more cautious in the future."
"Just like a Gryffindor to take all the fun out of something."
"Oh, so now I'm no fun, is that it? Well, if you wish to end our little arrangement, it's certainly your right to do so. Far be it from me to try to force you to participate in something that no longer gives you enjoyment." She gave him her very best prim and proper schoolmistress expression. It no longer fooled him however, he knew better.
In answer he grasped her by the arms and pulled her down across his body to lie next to him on the bed. "It's been hours, perhaps I should test things out just to be sure that I am still enjoying our…arrangement."
Before she could do more than open her mouth in surprise, he'd taken advantage of that and kissed her…long, slowly, and very deeply. After a rather long interval of heavy silence, Minerva untangled her hands from his hair and tried to untangle her body from his embrace. "Severus, Poppy could walk in at any moment. You really should let me up," she gasped reluctantly.
He released her with a smirk of satisfaction as he watched her try to hurriedly smooth her hair and clothing back into position as she got to her feet. Having the chance to fluster the usually so reserved Minerva on a regular basis was fast becoming an amusing and unexpected bonus of their little arrangement. "Where is Madam Pomfrey anyway? I expected that she'd return when you did, or even before."
"A minor altercation occurred between Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley at the end of the match. There was an exchange of hexes, and some small injury resulted. Poppy was dealing with that while Albus dealt with the punishments. That left me free, for once, to return here and collect the viewer…and my winnings, which we've yet to discuss, by the way."
"Well, I hardly have five Galleons on me at the moment." He spread his hands widely and indicated his lean body, which was clad in pajamas and a lightweight dark blue bathrobe. Having been stuck here for more than a fortnight already…he'd long ago been able to discard the utilitarian and extremely ugly infirmary gowns for more comfortable attire.
"I'm well aware that you were unlikely to have the money on you at the moment, but I did want to discuss how I might obtain it…and how soon. I have a few new books that I've wanted to purchase for some time. Five Galleons will more than cover their price and possibly allow for a few extras as well."
"Well, if Madam Pomfrey will ever get off her high horse and let me out of here, I could pay you right away. But until I'm released, I'm afraid that you're out of luck. Unless you'd be willing to accept something other than money in payment."
She laughed. "Such as your body? Since I'm getting that anyway, it hardly seems a fair trade. I'm willing to wait for my winnings until you're let out of here. Poppy seemed to think that it wouldn't be long now anyway. Perhaps tomorrow or the next day."
"Really? That's more than she's let on to me."
"Probably because she knows that as soon as she tells you when she plans to release you, you'll immediately begin to complain that it should be sooner."
He shrugged. She had a point.
At that moment, the door to the infirmary opened and Poppy entered shepherding an angry looking Draco Malfoy, who was covered in rather unsightly weeping reddish spots.
"Wait here, Mr. Malfoy, and I'll fetch you the cream you'll need to apply to the weeping rash. That should take care of the problem very quickly."
Poppy looked quite disgusted as she crossed the room, sparing only a small glance for Snape and McGonagall as she headed off to her medical stores cupboard.
Snape straightened up and spoke to his unfortunate student. "Mr. Malfoy, I was quite disappointed to see how poorly the team played today. Are you in need of more practice time, do you suppose?"
Before Malfoy could answer, Minerva decided that now would be the perfect time for her to make her exit. So she hefted the scrying pool up into her arms and nodded to Snape. "I'm glad the viewer worked so well for you Severus. I'll see you later." Then she turned to the waiting student. "Mr. Malfoy, would you be so kind as to open the door for me, please?"
Malfoy looked a bit sullen, but he could hardly refuse the polite request of a teacher especially not under the already disapproving eye of his Head of House, so he nodded and moved across the room to open the door and hold it open as McGonagall made her exit. Once he'd closed it behind her, he reluctantly came back and stood next to Snape's bed as the Head of Slytherin glared at him darkly.
"Well, Mr. Malfoy? Do you have any excuse for your performance today?"
Since the true answer was no, Malfoy immediately fell back on his usual excuse. "It was all Potter's fault, sir. He doesn't play fair. He knocked me out of the way to grab the snitch. Hooch should've called a foul." His eyes shifted away from Snape's evasively, and Snape knew he was lying. The little brat knew that he'd played badly; he simply wasn't capable of admitting it…even to himself.
"No doubt that's true. It is also irrelevant. You're well aware of the sort of play that you can expect from the likes of Potter and his misbegotten teammates, Mr. Malfoy. This really shouldn't come as a surprise to you. What do you think you've been practicing for since the beginning of the year anyway? A garden party at the manor?"
Malfoy frowned and looked down to contemplate his shoes while his hands became rather busy scratching at the weepy rash that covered his arms and face.
"I think that the Slytherin Quidditch team is in severe need of some extra practice of their relevant skills. You will all report to Mr. Filch after dinner. He told me that he'll be mucking out the Owlery this evening, and I'm sure that he'd appreciate having some help. That should give all of you a bit more practice at handling the less pleasant aspects of life. Not to mention that the balance and coordination that it will take to physically scrub the rafters up there should help you to manage the handling of your brooms much more competently in the future. No magic is to be used tonight. Next week we will begin with an extra two hours of drill work down on the pitch. I will speak to Madam Hooch about obtaining the extra time you'll require. This was a pitiful showing today. The next time you fly about on your broom representing Slytherin, I'll expect a better result. Have I made myself clear?"
Malfoy had gone a bit pale at the low tone of his professor's voice, which clearly indicated a fair amount of suppressed anger. "Yes, sir. Shall I inform the rest of the team of tonight's…practice…then?"
"Yes. Do that."
Just then, Pomfrey returned with a tube of cream in her hand that she handed to Malfoy. "This should clear up that rash in no time. Apply it twice a day until the spots disappear. It should only take a day or two. Come back and see me if you have any more trouble."
Malfoy nodded and accepted the tube. Then he turned away from Pomfrey as if she wasn't even there and faced Snape once more. His face schooled into a subservient expression that wasn't matched by the gleam in his eyes. "Is there anything else, sir?"
Snape shook his head. "No, Mr. Malfoy. You may go." Then he watched as his arrogant student turned and walked out of the infirmary.
