Due to popular request I'm reposting the old version of this fic for your enjoyment. I'll start posting a new version/complete rewrite late 2022.
Chapter 10: Secrets for Samhain
The weeks had passed with a thick syrupy quality wherein the days lasted forever, but looking at the calendar showed that school had been in session for two months already. What should have been a simple meeting with the Goyles had been postponed four times already due to the stupid number of clubs the children insisted on attending. Did they not see that Gregory Goyle's future could hinge on them figuring this out? But he could not force them to listen to his concern, so he let them make yet another appointment in November.
Samhain's arrival was never subtle, but it caught him nevertheless by surprise. He could have sworn it was still September, when the aroma of nutmeg, pumpkin and cloves slapped him in the face as he stepped from his rooms that morning.
The day was, as usual, an entirely Sisyphean effort of shepherding cats, except instead of cats he had small children high on sugar wielding deadly weapons and potential explosives.
He had run out of unique expletives by his second class of the day. Thankfully Potter was there and practically taught the class for him while Severus loomed, snatching scorpion claws before they landed in cauldrons and extinguishing flames before porcupine quills went in.
That was literally the first lesson they learnt in his first class—always turn off the flame before adding porcupine quills. How could the fourth years possibly still be getting it wrong?
"Perhaps you should sit down," Potter approached him after class like one would a frightened animal. "I admit Davies should have known better. This level of dunderheadedness is embarrassing, I don't understand why they don't just cancel all classes on Samhain."
"It would be worse if the students had nowhere to go and no organised activities to pursue. We would be peeling Ravenclaws off the ceiling and prying Gryffindors from the floors beneath the moving staircases."
"The Slytherins would obviously have jinxed each other beyond recognition. And the Hufflepuffs?" Potter joined in.
"Strip poker," Severus summarised wearily, and going by Potter's expression no more was needed to paint a sufficiently traumatising picture. He recalled Potter had been familiar with Diggory and his groupies the year before.
Evidently struck speechless or late for his next class, Potter fled from the classroom with nary a goodbye called over his shoulder.
xoxox
Severus gave it until announcements had been made and the first ten minutes of the feast had passed, before he had to acknowledge that Potter was missing it. Fearing the worst, Severus left the table before Albus could insist upon second helpings of anything, determined to find him. Last year there had been a wayward troll out to eat students, this year considering Potter's luck there was probably a basilisk lurking somewhere.
Usually his Slytherins attended at least part of the extensive feast before withdrawing as dessert was served. This had the dual purpose of letting them pilfer the table for sweets and giving them time to set up and start their Samhain rituals around eight.
A ward check showed Potter to be in the Slytherin dungeons, but Severus was certain the child had found a way around those in first year already. He decided a manual room check was in order.
Potter's door was complexly warded, no surprises there, and guarded by a carved gourd. And with the magic dampening field Potter had evidently placed on the door, he actually had no way to magically confirm his presence in the room and his safety overall. He could not knock, either. That would be a gross invasion of his own privacy; it would not do to show his apprentice just how much of his time he spent worrying over him.
Severus turned away, resigning himself to performing his own small ritual before spending the night prowling the halls for danger instead. The Samhain energy had been building since noon, and the pressure was making him jumpy. He very much wished to escape the wards and honour the gods with a prayer, recreational drugs, and some ritual sex. The right muggle partner would just think it was a kink.
The door behind him opened, causing Severus to almost jump out of his skin. Instead, he drew his wand and pointed it straight at—Potter's scarred forehead. Severus lowered his wand to heart-level instead, before realising he was behaving entirely inappropriately.
Potter raised a bemused brow. "Master Snape, what were you expecting when you sought me out, if my presence startles you so?"
He was wearing pyjamas, Severus noticed absently, and had foregone the hair-quill. It probably interfered with ritual magic; Severus could barely see the cleared ritual space set up in the candle-lit room. Potter must have started just after dusk and was apparently observing the full dusk-to-dawn rituals. His piety was commendable for a day that was not even the most aligned with his own magic.
"My apologies," Severus finally sheathed his wand. "I did not mean to interrupt you." He bit back his statement for his concern about Potter's safety. His Slytherin was entirely capable of reading between the lines without forcing Severus to state such sentiments aloud.
"Sir." Potter nodded respectfully, and Severus knew that they were understood. Before he could turn back down the corridor, Potter scrambled away quite inelegantly. The still open door and lack of mutual dismissal forced Severus to observe propriety and remain standing there. Craning his neck, he could see the ritual chalk set up with four compass points marked, creating miniature altars of each element. It was not necessarily a long ritual, he realised. Although it was possible to meditate for hours, this was nowhere near as complex as a ritual from dusk until dawn should require. He would probably be going to sleep, then. Last year's Samhain haze had been especially strong, and most likely somehow off-putting.
Potter returned with dual flowers clutched in his hand: a pink hyacinth and agrimony. He knew their meaning immediately because he had bought two book on floriography last Yule when he had realised this was going to become a thing. Gratitude in the yellow agrimony, playful joy in the hyacinth. Severus raised a brow, but accepted the flowers extended to him wordlessly from a sweaty hand.
Potter looked so sincere, and innocent. Severus really must figure out where he was getting these probably insanely expensive off-season fresh cut or sometimes potted flowers. The Hogwarts greenhouses certainly didn't grow anything so inane.
"I appreciate everything you've done for me so far, Professor Snape. Thank you." As if the flower didn't make that entirely clear. But now he had added dialogue, so Severus would have to say something in return. In that moment, Severus longed for his plans of recreational drugs and sex instead of this charged magic and complicated conversations with the mysterious incomprehensible Potter.
Severus sighed inwardly and dipped his head in what could have been a nod, or just a readjustment of his hair. "Happy Samhain, Mister Potter." How very appropriate. Have a happy death-celebration day, the anniversary of your parents' murder.
Yes, happy.
Severus wanted to face-palm. The part of his brain that noticed muggle gift cards in the Cokesworth supermarket added 'season's greetings' more snidely than was strictly necessary for a voice in his own head.
He turned away, clutching his flowers to his chest, and strode for the passage to his rooms. Luckily nobody had seen him, and he had refrained from saying anything overtly stupid. He placed the stems in an engorgio'd vial. After some deliberation, he decided to make this thing with Potter a dialogue and conjured a remembrance poppy in return. He ordered Bathsheba to deliver the sprig to Potter's door for him while he quickly lit a candle and said a prayer.
If he couldn't unravel Harry Potter's secrets, he could at least try Mark Evans'. There was a vial he had been guarding covetously, looking for the right opportunity for the high therein. He divided the portion in two to share it with Mark. The man was a wizard and should take no damage from some Merman's Moondew. Ageing potions did not interact with the mild hallucinogenic, the only little known side reaction was that consuming the rare nutmeg flower would double the toxicity.
Magic would loosen Mark's tongue, and Severus was certain he could unveil the other man's identity tonight. Perhaps the wizard would even be amenable to some buggery. Beltane would never allow a homosexual act, being a celebration of birth, life and fertility. But Samhain was death, and coming winter. The straight men among the pious would deny it profusely, but male homosexual acts in particular were an excellent way of enhancing the woozy Samhain magic. Severus fully intended to take advantage.
He felt giddy with anticipation and Hogwarts' enhanced Samhain magic, as he performed his abbreviated rituals. By nine he was stepping through the floo on his way to Soho.
xoxox
Severus had almost forgotten that muggles also celebrated Halloween. Upon discovering the costumed masses beyond the Leaky he quickly transfigured his robes, not wanting to stand out for being dressed normally. Minerva would definitely get a laugh out of the ease with which he could throw together a haphazard vampire costume. A spell elongated his canines, a glamour reddened his irises. He popped his cloak's collar and made some minor transfigurations. Severus conjured a mirror and deemed himself acceptable. He undid the glamour on his hair, silky bangs falling almost immediately into his newly red eyes. Yes, Severus now looked the part of a vampire perfectly. He turned from Charing Cross onto Old Compton and walked the blocks to the Admiral Duncan.
The party was in full swing despite the early hour—for Soho standards. Although he had barely arrived, somehow Ricky had manoeuvred him onto the dance floor.
Ricky had merely perched a cowboy hat on his muddy blond hair, as always in disarray like he'd just lost a fight with an electrical socket. He wore his usual easy-going grin on his pock-marked honey face. The dimples when he smiled made him look perpetually young, despite the permanent five o'clock shadow. He was wearing green wellies instead of riding boots, and his strong arms had Severus feeling rather trapped as Ricky gyrated against him, uncaring that Severus was barely swaying with the music.
The Samhain magic was vaguely perceptible even here in muggle London, but with his affinity it meant Severus could feel the mild haze influencing him as if he were slightly drunk. In no other situation would he be caught dead on the dance floor. Not even under the imperius curse.
Mark cut in, having apparently arrived in the perceived half hour (it had probably been far less) Ricky had been dancing against Severus. "Find someone else to molest," he flashed Ricky a smile, grabbing Severus' hand. Mark pecked Severus on the cheek and danced them across the room to a more private table by the wall. As the first nights before Severus had joined the fold of their group, he couldn't help but admire Mark's effortless eroticism while dancing. The way he moved looked fun, not seductive as much as utterly sincere. Gramps caught Severus' eye from several tables over, but Severus could only shrug in reply to his raised brow. He had no idea why Mark was choosing to sit separately from their group.
Mark was wearing wizard dress robes, but to everyone here he would look to be some 18th century nobleman. "A vampire, really?" Mark was suddenly in his face, tucking Severus' hair behind his ear. Oddly, Severus didn't mind the invasion into his personal space; he always felt more free around Mark. "Hogwarts would love that. I do adore your natural hair. It's much softer than it looks." Severus opened his mouth to reply, but apparently Mark was monologuing today. The last person who had touched his hair so fondly had been his late mother. "What do you think will happen if we combine alcohol with our existing magic inebriation? I think Samhain is doing stupid things with my inhibitions."
Severus smirked. This was perfect. He leaned forward to whisper in Mark's ear. Talk-whisper, considering the blaring music. "Do you trust me?" he purred.
Mark shivered. "Conditionally." Severus ran a hand down Mark's spine, hand infused with a minor wandless magical charge. Mark closed his eyes and groaned when Severus combed his fingers through his auburn curls. "Yes, Prince, I trust you." It came out breathy.
Severus smiled his vampire grin. It felt so good to be in control, to reduce this grown man to a wanton mess so easily. Usually, Mark was playful but controlled in his actions, thoughtful. Today was Samhain, and they were both already drunk on magic. The bass vibrated in their chests as an accompaniment to their pounding hearts. Severus fully intended to finally get some answers from the man.
"Drink," he commanded, passing over a vial of Merman's Moondew. Mark examined the viscous fluid, holding it up to the light. He popped the lid and sniffed.
"No way!" he gasped, re-stopping it. He looked up at Severus and grinned. "First off, that's outrageously expensive. Is this bought or self made?" His eyes were twinkling excitedly.
Severus was surprised he recognised the Moondew in the first place. It was rare, and tended to explode if brewed in high-magic environments. "I purchased two vials from a master I trust down Nocturne," he admitted.
Mark scoffed. "You, trusting a fellow potions master? How bizarre." He was still fiddling with the vial.
Severus scowled. "You know far too much about me, while I know next to nothing about you. What house were you in? What career are you pursuing now? You claimed to be an inventor last year, and a politician. An inherited seat in the House of Lords, then?"
Mark laughed. "I'm not drunk or high enough to be telling you all my secrets. Does this stuff have any side effects or reactions with other potions?"
"No," Severus said, still scowling. He stood abruptly. "Cognac, then? If you require drunkenness, I shall provide it." Mark nodded absently, still fiddling with the vial of swirling, smoky teal. He hadn't rejected the idea outright, Severus reminded himself, he just wanted to get drunk first. That would even make the interview easier.
Gramps was at their table when he returned, holding Mark's clenched fist by the wrist. They were having some kind of argument, evidently over the vial Mark was protecting.
They quieted as he sat, placing Mark's drink before him. "Is there a problem, Gramps?" he asked in his coolest voice reserved for troublesome Gryffindors.
Gramps scowled at Severus. "Whatever you gave him is a problem. We have a no-drugs policy since John OD'ed."
Severus nodded sagely, watching Mark. "Alright. You have made your disapproval clear, Gramps," he turned back to glare at him. "How fortunate, then, that we are all adults capable of making our own decisions and consenting or not consenting based on our own informed decisions. It is Samhain, and I intend to get high. The drug is not addictive in the amount I will be consuming, and its consumption is limited to this special occasion. The effects will wear off by," he checked his watch, "approximately ten tomorrow morning. If Mark wants to join me, that is his prerogative."
Gramps met his scowl with one of his own, but Mark just laughed. "Gramps, you are an awesome protective angel, but I'm actually fine right now. Prince, get that stick out of your arse." He smoothly emptied the vial into his cognac, raising the glass in mock toast to Gramps. They watched as he swirled the glass, sniffed deeply, and closed his eyes as he carefully sipped. He set down the glass and swallowed. "That," green eyes flicked lazily open, "is exquisite. Gramps, you may yell at me next weekend, please leave us in peace now."
More childish glares were exchanged before the man finally rolled off. Mark took another sip, then pushed his glass over to Severus. "The combination is incredible. Your brewer was exceptionally skilled to manage to bring out such a flavour."
Severus took the glass from him, sniffing, then wetting his tongue. Somehow, it had added a note of elderflower to the cognac; it truly was delicious. He decided to copy Mark in spiking his own glass.
"Tell me what house you were in."
Mark smirked, sipping again. "I was in Gryffindor, though the hat wanted me in Slytherin."
Severus had been expecting Ravenclaw, somehow. It didn't matter, he needed to take advantage of this forthcoming mood. "What are your career ambitions?"
"Politics, though that will take a few years at least before I have enough sway in Britain. I love innovating, though. When I can, I do that instead."
They both sipped. Mark must come from a less affluent family which nonetheless had a seat in the House of Lords. His father was probably sick or old, in some way ready to hand over his seat to his son within the next years. Mark would now be going through some exhaustive grooming.
Severus cringed inwardly, he would hate to have to give up his potions passion for anything. It was why he had not fought for the Prince Lordship, becoming a silent heir instead when the main branch died. As one of the last of his family and coming from a disinherited mother, Severus' first born son could claim the Prince name and Lordship upon his majority. Let others muddle in politics and leave Severus to his brewing. With his new potions apprentice, he wasn't even needing to do as much teaching of dunderheads.
For a moment, he pitied Mark. The man would forever be busy with politics despite being an inventor at heart. His entire family's expectations and legacy weighing down on the young man. "To family," he toasted, and they both drank.
"To the abusive shits who raised us?" Mark offered quietly.
Severus almost choked. Before he could cough, he felt foreign magic wash over him. Mark had cast a medical airway-clearing spell on him, had leaned over to regard Severus in concern.
"Thank you," Severus murmured, also leaning forward unthinkingly.
Mark tilted his head slowly, and somehow when he leaned farther to kiss Severus on the lips he had to admit he hadn't seen it coming. The Merman's Moondew was making itself evident, the feeling of magic enhanced as it pulsed under his skin. The bass was impossible to separate from his thoughts, coming in staccato bursts.
Mark leaned back from the soft, chaste kiss before Severus' mind had properly registered anything. For want of something to do with his hands, he sipped his drink again. His cock was twitching interestedly, and he remembered his earlier decision to have ritual sex. Mark was likely barely eighteen now, a child really. But he had initiated the kiss, and had always been clear in his desire for more. Now that they no longer lived in the same castle, there was little reason not to indulge a little.
"Why," his tongue seemed slower than usual, "why are you still not telling me your name?"
Mark shrugged, and his reply also came slowly. "I want you to figure it out yourself. Preferably when I'm not around, so you don't hex me. I don't want to die."
The last sounded so candid and wrong from someone so young. "You contemplate death often?" A part of Severus' brain was trying to sift through the rest of Mark's answer. Something about Severus hexing him... it was like wading through whatever it is people waded through—Severus had never waded in his life. He was pretty sure he couldn't even swim without spells to aid him. In his childhood it had not been a priority, and a Slytherin without money or name should never show any weakness that could be exploited. Later, it had not seemed important enough to make himself vulnerable to a swimming teacher.
Mark was talking, he realised. "—would like to die, other times there is so much to do, always so much to do, people to save, wars to..." he trailed off into mumbles.
Severus scoffed mentally. No, he had scoffed aloud. Gryffindor indeed, needing to save the world. Severus made to take another sip, only to find his glass empty. Mark was blinking at him, his glass equally empty. He seemed far less coherent than even Severus.
"Come," he pulled the younger man to his feet. They swayed for a second, but Mark steadied them by holding the wall, "join me for a smoke."
They moved slowly to the door.
Outside in the fresh air (raining as usual, Severus' inner voice commented), it was easier to think. The music was far quieter, and there were less voices talking.
Mark shoved him against the wall and kissed him, and thinking became difficult again. There was a tongue licking against his lips.
Severus nudged Mark's head to the side, turning their kiss into a tight hug. His prick was pushing against Mark's crotch, and Severus sobered further when he realised he was the only one sporting an erection. He softened slightly as he untangled them and sat them both against the windowsill under the awning. He lit a cigarette and dragged before passing it over.
Mark leaned his head back against the cold window, tilting his head up as he exhaled. "You know," he said conversationally, as if they hadn't just been kissing, "I never took you for a man of vice. Dark Magic, sure, but not sex or drugs. All those buttons always made you look like some celibate."
Severus took back his cigarette. "I like my buttons." He didn't care that it sounded almost petulant. And his students were not supposed to be thinking of him as a sexual being, that was the point.
Mark giggled, and Severus realised despite both having the same amounts of magic, alcohol and potion in them, Mark was evidently much further gone. "You must hate your students so much. Dunderheads, the lot of them. Endless useless idiots causing so many explosions. Too many students in a room, especially the first three years. So much potential for disaster. You deserve your vices, Severus."
It was the second time tonight his name had come from those lips. Severus found he rather liked the sound. "Prince," he corrected, because he enjoyed being contrary and disliked being psychoanalysed.
"Hmm. The last Prince, aren't you. Great uncle that still had the name died recently. That makes you the heir, or your son I suppose. Will you be having children?"
This was getting intensely personal, while Severus still hadn't gotten close to unravelling Mark's mysteries. He cast a mild stinging hex at Mark. "That is none of your business. We were talking about you, because you know too many of my secrets and I know none of yours."
Mark just shrugged. He reached into Severus' pockets and found the packet of fags, lighting one for each of them. Severus felt suddenly bereft at the lack of intimacy from sharing. Mark was gesturing at Severus' continued silence in what was evidently a 'go on.'
"Tell me about your father."
"Arrogant idiot went and got himself killed. Picked a fight with the wrong man, and left my rearing to my extended family. The family name, the family honour. Worthless, the lot." His voice was thick with disdain. mingled with a whiff of sadness.
"Who raised you, then?"
"My uncle tried to instil me with the values he thought were important. Does that count as raising?"
"He hurt you, then?" It was obvious, but Severus wanted it spoken aloud. The couple that was smoking next to them put out their butts and withdrew, sensing this was not a pleasant conversation to be eavesdropping on.
Mark hummed and stared at the rain. Severus shoved him lightly when he realised a verbal answer would require more coaxing. "Mostly emotional abuse, with the occasional hunger and rough manhandling. Wasn't a pleasant man, my uncle. Simultaneously jealous and afraid of my power." His tone had gone from disdainful to utterly blank and emotionless as he recounted his childhood abuse. Severus was slightly at a loss for what to say. 'I'm sorry' seemed empty and entirely too little.
Severus thought for a while. As a child, he had also suffered at the hands of his muggle father. What had he most wished he could hear, when he had been fresh out of Hogwarts? 'Don't join the Death Eaters, they will fuck you up,' was just as inappropriate.
"You are not alone. It gets better with time. Do you need help getting out of the situation?" The words tasted strange on his tongue, but while they were foreign to him they were also what he felt would be most useful.
Mark flashed him a wry grin. "Thank you, Prince. You're such a gentleman."
Severus coughed, he was anything but.
Mark breathed, grinding his fag against a conveniently placed ashtray. "I'm okay now. You're much more attentive than McGonnagal, did you know? She has too many duties, being Deputy and Head of House. There are no bedtimes, or individual meetings with her, or checks to make sure we're okay. No time or attention left unless you cause too much trouble. Dumbledore is spread equally thin, running that school into the ground. Dippet was hardly better, senile fool. The children are the future," he scoffed, bitter again, "Britain is doomed."
Severus privately agreed, but he needed to defend his colleagues nonetheless. They had done the same for him many times over the past. "Minerva is vicious in defending her lions, and Albus Dumbledore is a great, brilliant man." His tone wasn't as sure as he'd intended, he couldn't even have convinced himself.
Mark laughed easily. "Sure, sure. Your masks are many, just like your buttons. So many people holding your strings, I wonder if running to Soho to play Prince is the only freedom you have left."
That was below the belt, and all the more cutting that it was true. Severus turned to face Mark, all but growling.
"And every day you put on those robes. You do up each button, methodically, every morning, your armour against the world." Severus was seething. He gripped Mark's forearms painfully, but the man would not stop talking. "If nobody can see you, they can't judge you, not really. They just see the mask, the image you project." Mark had somehow twisted his wrist around and was stroking the sleeve directly above Severus' Dark Mark. He tried to flinch away, but was caught in their strange embrace. "If nobody can see you, they can't judge you, and their opinions and their words can't hurt you. I understand your buttons, Prince. I see your masks. I see you." The last was said calmly, soothingly. Severus did not care. He pulled away and strode for the alleyway he usually apparated to and from, Mark shadowing him obstinately.
'I see you,' echoed in his brain. Severus spun to apparate, but stumbled partway through. He needed to clear his mind before he splinched himself. Angry, drunk on magic and high on Moondew, he wasn't thinking straight.
Mark caught him before he could fall to the filthy cobblestone. 'I see you,' those green eyes taunted him. Lily green eyes, how had he missed that? Staring at him in mocking understanding.
They were now both leaning against a wall, being drizzled upon gently. Thankfully, it smelled neither of garbage nor of piss, unusual for the alleyway. Severus looked around, realising belatedly that Mark had erected a privacy bubble around them and cleaned the immediate vicinity. He jumped when he realised there was a stoner camped behind the bins that marked his usual apparation spot. But he was facing the other way, apparently oblivious to the wizards in the alley with him.
Severus stood beside Mark, staring blankly at the facing wall, feeling Mark's eyes still boring into him. 'I see you,' they were taunting. This man apparently knew Severus' character and history quite thoroughly. Who else knew? He felt so vulnerable.
"It's alright, Prince," he heard Mark's voice soothing, "I have unique access to information due in part to our friendship under alias, and a lot of digging over the aftermath of the most recent British Wizarding War." His wording sparked recognition in Severus, but he couldn't pin it down.
Suddenly the Samhain magic doubled in intensity; he had to stifle a groan. Mark evidently felt the same, though he had moaned quite loudly. It was a filthy sound, and Severus wondered about the privacy bubble's efficacy.
The magic coursed through him deliciously, so Severus let himself sag against the wall to enjoy the feeling of it pulsing through his veins. Absently, he realised he could feel the pulse in his prick also. It had become half erect somewhere between now and the sound of Mark's moan.
Not far off, he could hear bells tolling midnight. They leaned against each other, panting as they rode the rush of magic. It took a good five minutes before they were coherent again.
Explicit sex scene begins
Mark was nibbling on his neck, Severus noted absently. It felt nice, very nice. The tangible magic tingled where their skin touched. He knew there was a reason why this was a bad idea, but that was mostly Mark's opinion. Now the man was kissing his jaw, and Severus found he didn't mind Mark's sudden lack of inhibitions.
"Are you sure you want this?" Severus questioned, because earlier he had been accused of being a gentleman and now he felt the need to live up to it.
Mark moved on to pepper kisses on his face, clumsy finger struggling to undo a few of Severus' buttons. "I'm too high to care right now," he admitted, and fair enough. He evidently had only half the tolerance for Merman's Moondew. If Severus had been more aware, he would have realised this was not consent. If he had had much practice being a gentleman, his mind would not have failed in this moment.
As it was, Mark had cupped Severus' neck under his popped collar, and was using the leverage to press their lips firmly together. His other hand was pawing at Severus' crotch, fumbling for access.
Severus realised he was about to receive a handjob in an alleyway, and decided he may as well help. He swatted aside Mark's hand so he could undo his own fly. Absently, he was reminded of their earlier conversation about his love for buttons. 'I see you,' the man had said, and Severus knew while his masks projected versions of ugly, his core was darker and uglier still. A warm, insistent moist tongue pushed into his mouth. A warm, gentle skilled hand took hold of his prick.
Severus came undone.
Another man would have moaned; Severus' breathing became slightly uneven and noisy. Mark, the brilliant man, understood him anyway, fingernails scraping delightfully against the back of his head.
Severus noticed his hands were limp at his sides, and found the energy to correct this. A hand fondled Mark's arse, the other wrapped around his shoulders for support. Mark seemed unbalanced somehow. Severus continued to lean against the wall.
Dexterous fingers were teasing his foreskin back and forth. Severus thrust impatiently into the hand.
Mark withdrew from the kiss, tutting softly. "This is an art, and you are the canvas." It was murmured between kisses to his cheek, eyelid, eyebrow, forehead. Mark had gone insane, Severus knew, because he was now speaking in ridiculous metaphors.
"If I want to thrust into you, I will," Severus retorted. A minute had gone by, and Mark was now kissing his collarbone.
Mark chuckled, breath warm and moist against his neck. Instead of replying, he stepped back, gripping Severus' forearms tightly. Severus blinked at him, confused, but before he could speak the man lowered himself onto one knee, then both. He steadied himself against Severus' thighs as he shuffled closer. Severus could feel the same moist warm breath against his prick now.
Mark looked up at him. "Are there glamours, or is this real?" His tongue lapped at his slit teasingly. Those sparkling eyes would put Albus to shame, and what the fuck were thoughts of Dumbledore interrupting this blowjob for? A hand wrapped around his shaft, loosely fisted. Those green eyes were still watching him, 'I see you,' they said, and then Mark took him into his mouth.
Severus knew he had been asked a question, but most of him was focussed on the very hot, wet, moving hole his prick was inside of. He was proud that he didn't buck forward. He may have moaned quietly. Mark had closed his eyes and was swaying, listing dangerously to the side.
Severus reached out and steadied his shoulders. "I only glamour my face," he replied while he still could. It felt like his heart was being sucked out of him.
He was not aware of anything beside the talented tongue rubbing against the underside of his prick. At least, until a lube covered hand replaced the one fisted around him. Then, Severus actually thrust forward. Mark fell back onto his heels, and his prick was suddenly cold and extremely uncomfortable. There was a breeze coming from the main street that Severus dearly wished he had less intimate knowledge of.
"Sorry," Mark apologised, though it had been Severus' fault. He straightened and nuzzled into Severus' crotch, moist hand now fondling his balls. Mark laughed, somehow sounding forced. "I think I'm really far gone. Way further than I should be to be doing this. And without protection as well. For the record if you just gave me an STD, I know where you sleep."
Severus was somehow comforted, to know Mark expected there to be condoms during blowjobs in alleys.
"Shall I go on?" Mark pouted his lip and dragged it up Severus' near-flaccid shaft.
Severus leaned back against the wall. "If you like," he murmured. 'If you can,' might have been implied as well.
"I enjoy a challenge," was murmured back, and then Severus was feeling warm wet suction again. He tilted his head to watch the man kneeling at his feet, head bobbing. He placed steadying hands on Mark's shoulders to prevent a repeat fall, and instead of thrusting his hips forward he pulled Mark closer.
Mark didn't look up, continuing as if nothing had happened. Well, Severus had said something about being free to thrust if he wanted to. It was incredibly sexy, having this man who had been flirting and teasing for the past year on his knees before him, allowing Severus to fuck into his mouth. Mark's hand on his shaft shifted to his balls, which Severus took as permission to continue.
He pulled him into another thrust, deeper this time. Mark's tongue was rubbing against the underside of his prick.
Mark looked up at him then, eyes watering slightly, pupils blown wide. Feeling oddly self conscious, Severus looked away and let Mark continue demonstrating his evident skill at giving oral. The Samhain magic had lessened since midnight had passed, but was still coming in sudden jolts. Severus was glad for the wall he was leaning against, because his legs were unsteady.
A bell tower chimed the quarter hour. Severus could feel the drugs and drunkenness in the fact he had yet to come. He was enjoying himself, of course, but Mark's knees and jaw must be sore by now.
"Are you alright?" he asked tentatively. He wasn't sure what the etiquette was for taking forever to come during a blow job.
Mark made a vulgar slurping sound as he withdrew from his prick, using hands to pump him languidly. He grinned at Severus and winked. "I'm enjoying myself. You're quite a prize."
Severus was not immune to flattery. He stroked Mark's cheek with the back of two fingers. "You are brilliant, did you know?" It was murmured more than questioned, though the last word was punctuated by a groan. Severus could feel a slick finger rubbing across his anus, and it made his head loll back against the wall.
"Is this alright?" Heat breathed against his head, a wet tongue rubbed his foreskin.
"Yes," Severus hissed, "fingers are fine." A fingertip breached him, then went back to massaging him. "Please do."
Severus was lost to the sensation of his prick inside Mark's hot mouth, a hand fondling the underside of his balls, and those slick fingers teasing his hole delightfully.
Finally the finger that breached him went deep enough, curling into his prostate. Then he pulled out again, and Severus realised he was being teased. Mark had been there for twenty minutes already, and was trying to prolong their encounter.
What a nut. What a horrible, delightful, frustrating man.
The hand steadying his shaft was back. Severus didn't even know what Mark was doing with his tongue. And then two fingers were inside him, filling him. He clenched around them as they curled.
Severus' head fell back against the wall too hard, pain shooting through him. Shite, that would bruise. This was Mark's fault, and some vindictive, irrational part of Severus wanted the man to suffer.
He yanked Mark's shoulders forward, again recreating a thrusting motion. Mark withdrew as soon as he could; Severus feared he'd crossed a line, but the man just licked his slit. "Go on, then, but remember I need to breathe," Mark said quietly, addressing the statement to his prick. He took him back into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks. His hand released his shaft and wrapped an arm around Severus' waist, steadying himself. Then he made some sort of encouraging humming sound and bobbed forward.
Severus had never imagined Mark would be such a perfect partner. Using his leverage he set a slow pace, fucking deeper into Mark's throat with each consecutive thrust until he was being deep throated.
Mark's eyes were closed, brow furrowed in concentration. The arm around his thighs clutched tightly, but the fingers inside him kept up their relentless massaging of his prostate, thumb helping rub his perineum.
It was barely a few minutes before Severus knew he would come now, and also that he was uncomfortable and couldn't keep this pace up much longer without them toppling over. "I'm about to," he grunted, and Mark's hand was immediately back on his shaft, pumping at the same pace Severus had set.
Severus coasted the feeling for a few more seconds before his balls lifted. Mark timed it perfectly, pulling off and covering Severus' slit with a cupped hand just as he was ejaculating, the fingers inside him milking his prostate to extend his orgasm blissfully.
He felt Mark's fingers pull out of him then, and looked down to see grief in Mark's eyes as he cradled the cupped handful of ejaculate.
Explicit sex scene ends
Severus dropped to an unsteady crouch, holding Mark's face with his hands. "Are you alright, Mark?"
He looked up from his hand, eyes brightening and a wry smile coming back onto his face. "Force of habit, you know? It's been so long since I've had a partner I wanted to swallow for."
Severus didn't know what to reply to that. It was sweet, and intimidating at the same time. He treasured Mark's friendship, but he knew the man very much wanted more from him, going into the territory of obsessive romantic feelings. He tried to keep his discomfort from his face, searching his pockets for his handkerchief to clean himself up.
Mark laughed self-depreciatingly, then his pink tongue darted out and lapped tentatively at the puddle of cum in his hand. Severus couldn't help but watch, fascinated, horrified and aroused in equal parts. With a heart-wrenching sigh Mark looked back to Severus, and pilfering his now slightly stained, strange-smelling handkerchief to wipe his hands.
"Sorry, you didn't deserve having to deal with my emotional outbreak. My words and actions are very much not under my control this night. I suspect your Moondew interacts with a rare potion I'm taking." He cast several spells silently on the handkerchief and his own hands, then passed it back to Severus damp, warm and faintly citrus scented. Severus gratefully repeated the process of wiping himself clean, then stood and pulled his pants back up.
Mark cast further laundry spells, and Severus absently admired that the man had learnt them wordlessly. "Nutmeg Macis," he finally answered Mark's musings. "It increases the potency by a factor of 1.2 for every petal, and adds side effects that mimic drunkenness."
Mark nodded, reaching out a hand. "That rather explains everything. Help me up?"
Severus winced in sympathy as he pulled his friend to his feet. He steadied Mark from falling as he stretched his limbs. "Can you apparate me to Hogsmeade, please? I would most likely splinch myself."
That was concerning. They definitely needed to talk about what had happened between them, but it would be better done with a companion sober enough not to splinch himself.
Furthermore, the purpose of the evening had been to gather information on Mark. He could follow the man to his quarters in Hogsmeade and finally figure out the identity of the man who had just sucked him off so excellently.
xoxox
He brought Mark to the central apparation point in Hogsmeade and kissed him briefly, but passionately. "Are you sure you will be alright on your own from here? I can bring you home, Mark." He tried his hardest to sound reassuring, because Mark seemed to be approaching some kind of breakdown point. It was futile. Whenever he tried to be comforting he inadvertently became creepy and according to first years, terrifying. Although according to seventh years and Draco he would look constipated, which was arguably worse.
"Is there any kind of sobering potion? In retrospect, the 'dew hit me way too hard." Indeed, Mark was leaning against the wall pseudo-casually. Severus realised belatedly that the man was barely capable of standing upright.
Severus handed over a vial. "It will get rid of some of the effects similar to inebriation. Remember to drink lots of fluids tomorrow."
Mark downed the vial, shuddered, then stepped forward from the wall. He balanced on one leg, then the other, tried to touch his nose in a parody of a muggle drunkenness test. Severus wondered if he'd had a muggle upbringing or just had plenty of experience from Soho.
Having almost poked himself in the eye, Mark lowered his hands again and straightened. He grinned at Severus' raised brow, but the expression seemed hollow and unconvincing.
"Will you be alright on your way home?" Severus repeated.
Mark nodded absently. "Sure, sure. Thanks for the... for celebrating Samhain together. Try to be..." he pulled a hand through his hair in a startlingly familiar gesture of frustration, "be careful, Prince, with consent." Mark swallowed thickly, and Severus meekly examined his scuffed shoes.
In retrospect, as the high mellowed out, he realised Mark hat quite obviously not been in full control of his faculties, and the man had been vehement in the past about not wanting to be intimate with him.
"I'll be okay, you needn't worry," the voice of the man whose throat he had just fucked tried to comfort him. "Prince."
He looked up. Mark had stepped far closer. Another step and he had closed the space between them enough to initiate a chaste, sweet kiss.
"I see you. I see you, and I am drawn to you. You are good. Even if I'm the only one, I see your goodness, Severus Prince."
Severus was overcome with shame and unworthiness. Mark kissed him again before he left, and in a small corner of his soul, Severus felt hope.
By the time he remembered his previous intention to follow Mark, it was too late. Had he been faster and thinking clearly, he would have noticed the notice-me-not ward immediately out of sight from where he had been standing when Mark kissed him. Had he dismantled the ward he would have discovered the man curled up there, rocking back and forth, gasping in shuddering breaths. He would have heard the man repeatedly murmuring 'What have I done?' Had he returned to Hogwarts he would have noticed Harry Potter was not seen at all until breakfast over thirty hours later.
As it was, Severus apparated to Spinner's End, where he barely managed to light another ritual candle before he fell asleep on his couch. He awoke with an awful crick in his neck and lingering dreams of a hot mouth. He blocked his crisis of conscience tightly away with occlumency, and went on to have a perfectly normal, awful week of teaching potions to dunderheads.
xoxox
When he saw Gramps the following weekend the man was furious.
Before Severus'd had a chance to sit at their group's table, Gramps had yanked him off the chair by his sleeve, pulling him outside the Admiral Duncan. Severus forced himself to take slow deep breaths. This man was not threatening him. He was not in danger. There was no need to attack.
As soon as Gramps released him, Severus pulled out his fags and lit one. Gramps' eyes narrowed at the slight tremble in his fingers.
"You told me that shit was safe," Gramps growled, arms crossed menacingly as he glared up at him.
Severus took a long drag, revelling in the feeling of smoke scratching his throat. "It is safe," Severus kept his tone careful, measured, "an interaction with another drug caused Mark's hit to be stronger, but it wore off after a few hours and had no lingering effects."
"Your hand is shaking."
Severus glared at it and they both watched as the trembling ceased. "I do not take well to being suddenly touched."
"Sorry," Gramps said, contrite. "I'm really worried about Mark, and you're the last who saw him. I might have been overzealous."
Severus extended his cigarette pack, a peace offering. Gramps declined, but the message was understood nonetheless. "Mark was not alright when I left him, but he refused my company. I did not realise he had yet to come back here. I thought he would seek comfort with you, actually." Mark had likely been intentionally confusing to lose Severus' trail, and Severus knew enough to understand when he wasn't wanted.
Gramps slumped in his chair. "What happened?"
He suppressed his grimace and answered honestly, "I did not realise his enhanced inebriation. Something happened that would not have happened if we had been sober, and as the less affected person it should have been my responsibility to ensure mutual consent."
"Shite," Gramps summarised. "So you buggered him, then. Was he physically hurt? Did you make sure he got home, at least? Also, how dare you? The man is arse over teakettle for you, but has purposefully been avoiding putting you both in a compromising situation. You know this, Prince!"
Severus tried unsuccessfully to cover his shame with a sneer. "Believe me," he said thickly, "you are not saying anything I have not been breaking myself up over for the past week already. I know I messed up, badly." He took a few deep breaths to collect his thoughts. "I was already annoyed, because of a frustrating situation at work, and wanted very much to let off steam. Mark and I talked, and he said some intentionally provocative things. With the drug, I was not thinking very clearly. He ended up sucking me off in a nearby alleyway," He paused for a second, unable to help his wry smile at the memory, "it was incredible."
Gramps snorted. "I'm well aware of Mark's sexual prowess, but we're not talking about Mark's arse. We're discussing how you're an arse."
Severus had deserved that. "Physically, he was fine, already beginning to sober up. I took him to his suburb but he refused to tell me where exactly he lives. He said something that startled me, then left before I regained my footing. Afterwards I went home."
"Do you think he got attacked? Drunken Halloween crowds and all? What kind of neighbourhood was it? What was he wearing that night, did it look gay?"
Severus was appalled that he hadn't thought about the fact Mark could have been in actual danger. He remembered the rabid parties from his Death Eaters days, pureblood extremists getting out of hand. And the muggleborns could be just as bad, they brought their own prejudices with them.
Gramps must have seen some of this in Severus' expression, as he straightened and reached out to grab Severus' sleeve again. "We need to go to the police, register him as a missing person." Gramps was already wheeling away, but turned upon Severus' hollow laugh.
"What, you think the police will give a shit that a couple of fairies lost their faggot friend? We know neither his real name nor address, we'd be lucky if all they do is laugh." The Soho police were no friends to the gay community, it wouldn't do to draw attention.
Gramps returned to his side, scrubbing his hand through his hair. "I think," he said quietly, "I'll take that smoke after all."
Severus lit them one each, and they smoked in tense silence.
"That neighbourhood is not...awful," Severus tried to reassure them both. Muggleborns tended to live in muggle places, and the pureblood elite tended to have mansions in the countryside. The real danger was people visiting Hogsmeade for the Samhain celebrations, and Severus distinctly remembered they had ended the night with a kiss in a public place.
"But?" Gramps prodded.
Severus sighed, where was his impenetrable calm when he needed it? Every word of Gramps' was sharp as a knife. "He kissed me goodbye."
"What."
Gramps' incredulity was understandable. In muggle London, men did not kiss in public. It wasn't safe, it wasn't done. Wizarding Britain was more lenient, gay couples were fine as long as they contributed a child or two for the next generation. Among the upper class arranged marriages and not-so-secret lovers were nigh ubiquitous. Like squibs, these things were generally understood to exist but rarely spoken of.
"Mark is brilliant, strong, and a fighter to the end. I am certain he is fine." Severus and Gramps both pretended to be convinced by his words.
Gramps broke the uncomfortable silence after several minutes. "He's very particular when it comes to consent, you know? Always checking in and making sure. Very respectful."
Severus winced and said nothing as Gramps belittled him.
"He coined the term 'enthusiastic consent' too. He likes to lecture, and although he doesn't talk about it I'm sure there's been some very non-consensual sex in his past. Not that that's rare in the community, but it's nice to have an activist around."
"He was very enthusiastic," Severus protested petulantly, "I just noticed afterwards that he could barely stand straight. He was still thinking and talking almost normally."
Gramps gave a humourless laugh. "Mark think five times faster than you or I. It doesn't surprise me at all that he could keep up with your stoned self despite being inhibited."
Perhaps Gramps was slow, but Severus couldn't help feeling offended that he was being thought of as less clever than Mark. "I think being uninhibited was the problem," Severus snarked. He was stressed, and digging a hole for himself, but he couldn't help it. What if Mark was seriously hurt, or even dead? What if he never came back, just because Severus had made a mistake that night? He saw the man as his friend, more so than Gramps and Harold.
Gramps shoved his shoulder with more force than necessary, causing him to almost unbalance from his perched seat. "I'm so glad you can joke about it."
But before Severus could escalate their disagreement, he heard the tell-tale crack of apparation from the alleyway he had oh so vivid memories of now. Smiling, he stood and turned.
Gramps was about to shove him again. "I'm talking to you, Prince!"
Severus stepped neatly out of the way. "Shush, Gramps. Did you not hear that?"
They both watched as Mark approached, shot Gramps a wry smile, then nodded at Severus. "Prince," he said, then turned back to Gramps, bending down for a tight hug.
"I was so worried about you," Severus overheard Gramps' murmur, feeling like an imposter, an outsider, an unwanted guest.
"I'm alright now, Gramps. Will you take me home to catch up?" Mark was replying.
Severus watched Gramps hail a cab, wishing he hadn't come here tonight. Suddenly Mark was next to him, asking "did you intentionally drug and rape me?"
When phrased like that, it sounded really bad. "I am so sorry."
Mark waited pointedly for him to continue. "
I was thinking so slowly, and I thought we were both equally high. I never wanted you hurt." Mark had been honest with him, after all, and Severus wanted very badly to keep this friendship.
Gramps was already being helped into the cab when Mark had gathered his reply. "I'll forgive you, with time. I think it would be best if you stay away from the Duncan for the next two months. I hear The Yard is quite nice as well."
Severus nodded, it was fair. He forlornly watched his friends leave before striding to his alleyway and apparating to Hogwarts' gates. The walk across the grounds would do him good.
xoxox
He felt odd after that. Mark had become such an integral part of his life, most every other weekend spent in his company. He felt suddenly lonely and excluded. How had this happened? He'd barely known the man a year!
He wouldn't admit to sulking, per se, but he didn't leave his rooms at the weekend for the rest of November.
That was until he found Potter knocking on his door just before curfew.
"You cannot physically make it to your dorms without breaking curfew now, Mister Potter." This was said instead of a greeting. Severus could feel his own hair brushing softly against his cheek.
Clean hair was a sure indicator of his malaise. It meant he hadn't been brewing.
"I was hoping, Master Snape, that you could show me how to collect ingredients in the forest. It's the full moon tonight."
He counted in his head. Yes, it was indeed the full moon. Yes, he usually went out to the Forbidden Forest with a basket on full moons, and this would be the second one he was skipping. He was low on inkcap mushrooms and frogleaf.
"Come in, Mister Potter."
He whirled on the spot, wishing he were wearing robes that would have twirled excellently. Instead he was wearing only slacks and a shirt, making him underdressed and not really appropriate for receiving company.
Potter knew the muggle world. He would understand that Severus wasn't caught in his underwear.
"Sit," he instructed, and when Potter was safely dwarfed by his only armchair, legs swinging childishly, he surreptitiously shot a sticking charm at his student,
The charm was deflected safely at the ceiling before Severus even realised Potter had drawn his wand. He raised a questioning brow only to realise they were mirroring each others' expressions now.
Oops.
"Stay," he commanded instead, the 'or else' dripping from his tone. Potter would know better than to disobey, and anyway Bathsheba was watching surreptitiously from a corner. He went quickly to change into warmer robes, ones well suited to manoeuvring in a semi-sentient forest after dark.
He collected his student, basket and the bat traitorously perched on Potter's lap for a belly rub, and headed for the teachers' lounge. Potter kept his peace. Their soft steps barely echoed against cold stone.
He led the way into the lounge, greeting Filius and Aurora who were engrossed in making eyes at each other while pretending to be busy with a game of checkers.
The teachers' broom cupboard opened with a tap of his wand. He selected two Cleansweep 5s, known as goalie brooms for their excellent multidirectional controllability and hovering capabilities. They both straddled their brooms on the balcony and soared for the forest, enjoying the wind in their hair as his bat screeched and flattered between them.
He didn't need to explain much, for which he was grateful. Potter had obviously collected potions ingredients before, if not at midnight. He overlooked plenty, but he was an apprentice still. Next Tuesday he would make him memorise 'Native plants for Noxious brews,' by Grisham Entwhistle. Potter would learn to recognise the ingredient dried cavernroot when it was fresh by the soft yellow petals. Next time they would even have enough to sell to the apothecary.
Next time? One mutual collecting trip and already he was planning a next time?
Yes, yes he was. Potter was his apprentice, and he was going to learn every aspect of the craft. This child had so much potential. He was going to be Severus' masterpiece, something to look back upon at the end of his career knowing he did something great, knowing that this was his mark upon the world.
Not even under the cruciatus would he have revealed that he was proud of the boy already.
xoxox
The Sunday that followed he went to The Yard for the first time since Mark had effectively banished him. The air was so thick with smoke he could have cut it with a knife. He saved his own fags and breathed the humid second hand smoke instead, almost none of the kick and half of the burn. The light flashed out of time with the booming music. He could feel the bass reverberate in his chest.
Sign language was necessary to order his gin and tonic. He had to read the lips of the dark-skinned man who sidled up to him the second he found a suitable wall to stand by.
Severus shook his head no, he did not want to dance.
Then his eyes widened, because he was pretty sure he'd misread that. "WHAT?" he yelled back.
His hand was taken gently by the stranger's clammy ones. They pushed through the bar into the purple light of the toilets.
Then he was being shoved against a wall hard, and kissed softly. Something was pressing into the small of his back. The kisser withdrew then, hesitant. Severus realised he hadn't kissed back, probably imitating the experience of kissing a corpse, a drunk or a fish. He felt foolish. He wished he understood why this man had picked him out of the crowd after barely ten minutes watching the throngs and another minute of nursing his drink.
He straightened himself from the wall, almost choking himself as he tossed back the rest of the gin. The plastic cup he placed on a sink, and then he made eye contact with this inexplicable man.
He let his eyes sweep down his body slowly, just for fun. The trousers couldn't have been tighter. The slight belly was covered by cotton and fishnet. His bare arms looked like he regularly wrestled with horses and came out on top, and his face was prematurely aged by baking sunshine. His eyes looked curious, though. Intense, smouldering. His square stubbled jaw was oddly reminiscent of a biscuit. It was a nice enough body, even if the face's only merit was the crinkling eyes. He let his lips form into an approving smirk. The man had kissed him, and it wasn't a leap to think where this might be going.
"Are you drunk?" Severus opened. He had meant to say something else, something more flattering and less accusatory. He was used to his words coming out all wrong, though.
"A little, but not enough to not know what I'm doing," came the honest reply in an American drawl. Severus didn't know enough about America to place it.
"What do you want with me?"
"Fun. Preferably the foreplay kind, see where it goes."
That was honest. And flattering. And hot, he could feel his other brain roaring its approval.
"Why me?"
The man grinned, cheeky and teasing. "Do you believe in magic?"
Oh. Apparently muggle London gay bars were full of wizards. And as it was when you were overseas visiting a foreign culture, the fellow tourist transformed into the closest friend. They might have nothing else in common but in a sea of strangers it was familiar, comforting to kiss someone who spoke the same language.
"I'm in London visiting family," and he scrunched the word in a way that made it instantly clear the visit wasn't going so well. "There's been a death and we're settling affairs. All very exhausting. I felt the magic on you and thought we'd have some fun." He deflated then, his military posture collapsing in on itself, "I could really use a bit of fun."
He said the word as if it were two syllables. Fu-uhn.
Someone stumbled in, planted himself before a urinal and dropped his pants to his ankles. He groaned as he started to piss.
Severus knew he should think furiously, weigh his options, feel entirely unsure about what would be the right thing to do.
But his mind had been made up with the determination this man was not drunk, that this would be entirely consensual. "Your place or mine?"
"I don't mind."
The pisser pulled his pants back up and left without washing his hands. He took the time to grab Severus' new friends ass, and make kissy faces at them, laughing uproariously as he left.
They had both wrinkled their noses in their disapproval and disgust. It looked out of place on Biscuit man's honest face. Severus followed his whim to kiss him on the nose. "Call me Seb," he offered. He wanted to hear his name on someone's lips, and this was as close as he was willing to get.
"Hey, Seb. You can call me whatever you like. And I'd prefer your place, or we find a motel. I can pay."
Severus shook his head. It didn't matter if this American saw his home; they'd not see each other beyond tonight. But he didn't want to give this man a name. It made him uncomfortable. He felt inordinately uncreative. He'd probably end up calling him something incredibly unsexy like Biscuit.
"I shall take you by side-along," he offered.
Biscuit wrapped himself around him in a bear hug, almost preventing the necessary twist as Severus whisked them away.
A very confused cleaning lady pushed into the room at the sound of gunfire in her domain, sorely hoping the two men who had entered five minutes ago with a five quid tip and rather obvious intentions hadn't broken off a sink in their enthusiasm.
The room was empty, although one wall had a two metre sphere that was scrubbed so clean that the wallpaper's original blue colour was shining through. The condom machine had shorted out, displaying 'error' black pixel on green, under purple light. It was making noises as if it had swallowed a coin, repeatedly. Ching-clunk, ching-clunk, barely audible over the reverberating music.