Disclaimer: None of these characters or settings belong to me. Everything is the creation of J. K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for my own amusement.
Chapter 5: Who Would Have Guessed?
After dinner was finally over, McGonagall stalked angrily along the dim corridors of the dungeon headed for Snape's quarters. As she moved along, she muttered darkly to herself and didn't bother to try to disguise it. Why should she? Everyone avoided Snape at all costs if he was in a bad mood, and she couldn't imagine that any of his moods, no matter how noxious, were worse than hers was right now.
In her opinion, it was a darned good thing that Lupin had made himself scarce when he had, and an equally good thing that Snape had chosen to skip dinner altogether, for the infuriated witch knew that if either man was to currently be so foolish as to cross her path, she wouldn't be responsible for her actions.
When she reached Snape's door, she fumbled in her pocket for a moment trying to find her wand before belatedly remembering that Snape kept his in a holster up his sleeve. A tight smile crossed her face as she commented to herself that she'd always known he had something besides his arm up his sleeve, and it was nice to finally have confirmation of her suspicions.
She raised her arm to shake the wand down, but before she could complete the gesture, she jumped in startlement as a pair of hands clamped down on her shoulders and began kneading them like bread dough.
"Oh, your shoulders feel like bands of iron, Severus," exclaimed the familiar nasal voice of the Divinations mistress. "I just knew you could use my help this evening. Anyone could see that you were horribly tense at dinner. You weren't your usual self at all."
Alarm spread through McGonagall at those words. She'd been so sure that she'd fooled everyone. Could it possibly be that there was more to Sybill's powers of observation than she'd ever imagined? Considering the woman's usual level of self-absorption, Sybill was the very last member of the staff that she'd have ever expected to suspect the truth. Still, stranger things had happened…wasn't she living through one of them at the moment?
Cautiously, McGonagall turned around to face her surprise visitor; thankfully dislodging the woman's grasping hands from her shoulders as she moved.
"Good evening, Sybill. I…probably was a bit tense at dinner. It's been a trying day. What brings you all the way down here from your aerie?" she asked cautiously.
Delighted not to be immediately sent packing for a change, Sybill pressed a bit closer forcing McGonagall back against the wood of the door.
"Oh, I understand, dear Severus, truly I do. Long days of endless toil can wear on even the most resilient of souls. But, you shouldn't be surprised to see me here. I haven't made my feelings a secret, you know." She giggled like a parody of a schoolgirl as McGonagall stared at her in dawning understanding.
Surely not! Severus and Sybill! Had Hell frozen over, and she'd missed it somehow?
As the dazed McGonagall stood there frozen in uncertainty against the door of Snape's quarters, Sybill suddenly threw herself forward, grabbed her tightly and kissed her with a shocking amount of pent up passion. Horrified at this development, McGonagall's first impulse was to struggle against such an unwanted intrusion, though she suddenly wasn't sure at all whether Severus would find it as unwanted as she did. Was it possible that he and Sybill were secret lovers?
Damn, what other important bits of information had Severus neglected to mention to her before she began this impersonation? Surely if he and Sybill were involved, he'd have at least mentioned that she might stop by? Well, maybe not, she certainly would have tried to keep it a secret if she was in his shoes, which unfortunately she was at the moment.
As she stood there awash in indecision and let Sybill kiss her, the strains of Peeves nasty little song from dinner began to play faintly in her brain, and with that pushing her on, along with the thought that it was amazing what you could make yourself do when it was someone else's lips that were being used, she began to tentatively respond to Sybill's passion, hoping intensely that she'd chosen the right response.
When Sybill pulled back, the look of incredulous and shocked delight on her face, told McGonagall all she needed to know. Before the happy woman even opened her mouth, Minerva knew she'd made a huge mistake.
"Oh, Severus! That was wonderful. I knew that sooner or later you'd succumb to my charms. Why have you resisted me for so long? All these years…when we could have been so happy together," she gushed.
"Uh…I…couldn't believe that it was really me that you wanted. Not with my reputation…my past…" That sounded pathetic and weak to her ears, but Sybill lapped it up like a lovesick puppy.
"Oh, you silly man! It's always been you I wanted. You pretend to be so gruff and unpleasant on the surface, but underneath it all, you're really so sensitive, so wounded…so in need of my help and guidance. The stars have always been aligned for love. All you've had to do was open your heart and let it in."
McGonagall had all she could do not to gag at Sybill's starry eyed picture of Severus. A flood of guilt abruptly swept through her. Severus was a pain in the neck, but he didn't deserve to be saddled with Sybill unless he wanted to be, and poor deluded Sybill didn't deserve the reaction she was going to get the next time she tried to kiss Snape and found everything back to normal. How could she repair this?
Suddenly, Sybill's eyes glinted maliciously behind her huge glasses. "I just knew that I'd be successful this evening. All the signs pointed to it being a night for love. After all, if that dried up old prune Minerva McGonagall could get lucky with Remus Lupin then surely anything could happen."
Dried up old prune! In an instant, all her feelings of guilt were washed away in a rousing chorus of Roses are red, Violets are blue.
Inwardly seething, McGonagall turned around and hastily removed the wards that protected Snape's room. Then she turned back to face the hopeful Sybill with her hand on the knob.
"Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement this evening, Sybill, but I do have some free time tomorrow afternoon. Why don't you come find me after lunch, and we can pick up right where we left off. No need for any preliminaries, I'll be eagerly awaiting your kisses." Would she buy that?
"Oh," Sybill simpered with excitement. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely, I love a forceful woman." She stretched her lips into a smile, well aware that it probably looked very out of place on Snape's face. Sybill didn't seem to mind, though.
"Until tomorrow then, dear Severus. I'll be counting the seconds." Trelawney wiggled her fingers happily at Snape and then turned around and wafted her way off up the corridor.
McGonagall watched her go with a feeling of relief and a sharp resurgence of guilt. What had she done? Then, with a sudden frown, she found herself wondering if maybe she wasn't the only one who had something to feel guilty about. Just what the heck had Snape and Lupin been up to this afternoon that had inspired Peeves to go around singing that incredibly irritating and embarrassing song, anyway?
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Snape limped along the corridor that led to McGonagall's quarters and scowled a bitter scowl. It was a conspiracy. Fate had gotten together with some of her friends, roasted themselves a bit of sacrificial lamb, and for entertainment purposes, they'd decided to torture him. There was no other explanation for the monumental horror that had been his life for the last few interminable hours.
First, he had to endure having his body switched with that of Minerva McGonagall; then he had to experience the pain of tripping over her damnable shoes all over the castle. As if that wasn't bad enough, he then had icy water dumped on his face, causing him to fall on that fool of a werewolf, and then he had to listen to the inane prattling of that loony poltergeist who mistook a simple foot massage for some sort of prurient mating ritual. By that point, he'd thought that the day couldn't get any worse, but that was before he'd gone to dancing lessons with the Gryffindors.
Somehow, he'd managed to avoid actually killing anyone, though once he got back into his proper body, there was a certain Gryffindor who would be learning a whole new meaning for the word…pain. Revenge, like wine, improved with the passage of time and if your intended recipient was a clueless dolt…so much the better.
Hooch, old softie that she was, allowed the students to select their own partners for the dancing, so at first, he thought he wouldn't have to do anything more than stand around on the sidelines and force a foolish looking smile onto his face for a couple of hours. Definitely annoying but survivable. However, somehow he'd neglected to notice that once they were ready to begin, some of the students were still lacking partners.
Apparently, Lavender Brown managed to land herself in the infirmary while trying out a new way to avoid the tedium of painting her toenails. Though it was a mystery why even such as she would bother with that sort of nonsense when the current temperatures forced them to remain thankfully out of eyeshot during the public hours of the day.
At any rate, the twit thought that you could simply dissolve the old paint magically and replace it with new with a flick of a wand. Well, to be fair, someone who knew what they were doing could probably manage it, but he could easily have predicted how such an endeavor would turn out for the vapid Miss Brown. Naturally, when she somehow managed to dissolve the paint, her toenails went too, so now she was languishing in the hospital wing letting Poppy grow them back when she should have been in the Great Hall letting her classmates step all over them and saving him from a similar fate.
So that left one third year boy without a partner to dance with. Naturally, it was Longbottom. Even Gryffindor girls weren't totally without taste. He'd tried to persuade Hooch that she should be the one partnering the boy, but she pointed out that she'd already been pressed into service partnering that endlessly annoying Creevey boy, who also lacked a partner. She offered to switch, but given the choice, it seemed preferable to have a partner whom he could actually see over the curve of Minerva's bosom. That proved to be a mistake though. Not only was Longbottom all thumbs, but he apparently had two left feet as well.
Merlin, he couldn't wait until all this pain and agony became Minerva's problem. He'd damned well suffered enough! It was time that others shared his burdens for awhile. Though really if there was any justice in this world, the one who'd be suffering right now would be that incredibly incompetent werewolf. He'd get his when the time was right. Oh, yes, his time was coming.
Once Snape managed to attain the dubious sanctuary of Minerva's quarters, he immediately kicked off her hated shoes and cast incendio on them. He gazed in satisfaction at the smoking pile of ashes lying in the middle of Minerva's sitting room rug for a long moment and then limped tiredly into the bedroom.
As he entered the room, he shot a black look towards the oak wardrobe that stood innocently in a corner. No doubt more of her horrid torture implements lurked within, but first things first. He could take care of the rest of her abominable footwear once he'd done something to ease all his aches and pains. What he needed the most at the moment was a long soak in a tub of very hot water. His back ached almost as much as his feet did.
As he began to unbutton the neck of his gown, he caught a glimpse of himself in a tall oval pier glass that stood in the corner of the room, and he froze. Slowly, he crossed the room and stared at his image in the mirror. Minerva stared back.
Damn. Just to top the day off, he was now to be treated to the sight of Minerva McGonagall naked. Maybe a bath wasn't such a good idea after all. He raised an eyebrow and frowned thoughtfully. Not that he wasn't curious… Might not be that bad. She wasn't an ugly woman after all, and whenever would he get such an opportunity again?
As an even less welcome thought struck him, he frowned unhappily. Of course, he wasn't the only one who was getting a glimpse of that which was normally hidden. She'd be able to examine his body up close and personal too, and he'd certainly never win any beauty contests. He squirmed awkwardly at the thought of her standing just as he was before his own mirror and inspecting his body in an intimate fashion, possibly comparing him to other men she'd known. How might he measure up? Would she find cause to smile admiringly…or laugh her head off? He had nothing to be ashamed of really, but still… The idea wasn't a comfortable one.
Of course, that was presuming that there were other men she could compare him to. Maybe there weren't. Maybe his body was the first male body that she'd had the opportunity to inspect so closely. He snorted to himself at the absurdity of that idea. Minerva was a healthy, attractive adult woman. Odds were more than excellent that she'd had many lovers through the years. Hadn't she been spending quite a bit of time with that tall, skinny Ministry official a few years back? What was his name? Dougal? Duggan? He shrugged. Whatever. He certainly hadn't looked like much, but you could never tell…which was really the point.
A new thought struck him, and he paused to consider it. Was she involved with anyone at the moment? Possibly someone he knew? Surely none of the staff…well, maybe Albus, but even that seemed rather unlikely. Secrets that juicy rarely remained secret for long, and there'd never been even a hint of a relationship there that went beyond that of friend and colleague. Still, maybe he should put a few extra wards on the door tonight, just in case. The last thing he needed at this point was a midnight visit from any lover of Minerva McGonagall, past or present.
Well, at least there was one thing he could be grateful for, she already knew his history. The faint lines of the Dark Mark on his forearm wouldn't come as a revelation, so at least he didn't need to worry about its presence forming the basis for a new line of gossip in the staff room. Actually, no matter what she thought about what she found when she undressed tonight, he was certain that Minerva wouldn't make it public knowledge. For one thing, she'd have to explain how she knew what she knew, which would be rather awkward, and for another, she was simply too honorable to gossip that way. No, Minerva wouldn't say anything, but she was bound to look.
Which brought him back to where he started…undressing. Oh, well, better get it over with. So he returned to unbuttoning and unhooking Minerva's clothes. After what seemed like an eternity, he still hadn't managed to hit skin. Why the hell did women need so many layers of garments with so many fussy fasteners? It didn't seem as if there was usually so many when he was doing this from the outside, not that he'd undressed all that many women. Maybe the older women got the more layers they put on? First there was the robe, sometimes two, then the gown, then the shift, then the corset, then the camisole and knickers and the stockings and garters… With this much material you should be able to clothe a small family.
Finally, he managed to remove all of her clothes and stood before the glass once more. His glance as he gazed up and down at her body was frankly admiring. For a woman in her seventies, Minerva had a lovely body, including a very nice pair of breasts, not that anyone would ever know it under eighteen hundred layers of smothering fabric. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her breasts in the glass. Was that what he thought it was? He dropped his gaze to the real thing, his attention drawn to a small design that flowed along the curve of the right one.
A smirk spread across his face as he raise a hand and traced the sinuous line of a hunting cat as it chased a nervous looking snake around the nipple of her breast. Whoever would have guessed that Minerva McGonagall would have a tattoo and in such an interesting spot? Life was just full of intriguing surprises sometimes, now wasn't it?