(hey all it's been a bit morning there is sex in this chapter. I have removed the explicit parts to the best of my ability, but the scene is important. You can skip it if you want but it is a view into his psyche)
He awoke to pain. The sun shining through a window onto his hand. A small hiss of displeasure was the only sound he made as he quickly got up and removed himself from the sunlight. His demeanor and fluid motion did not betray his tenseness at the rather rude awakening. He tried to get his body to relax, having woken to pain it was ready for a fight. He glanced down. It was ready for other things too. Wonderful. He sighed. Sometimes he wished he didn't care, like he used to before he became a spy. Before those pesky twisted morals of his started gaining traction in his mind. It'd be so much easier. Stomach sated and cock spent. …Dead white ashes in a ditch because if he'd gone down that path after… any one of his failures, Albus would have killed him. That would be easier as well.
He schooled his expression, despite no one being around to see it, grabbed a vial of lotion from his bandolier and headed to the bathroom he'd seen earlier. He put on the lotion slowly, head pounding slightly, equilibrium still off. Leaning on the wall for support and steadfastly ignoring his waning morning wood.
The problem with eating well meant he had blood in his veins and problems like that were going to reappear. When was the last time he'd had morning wood before this year? He couldn't remember. He paused, his hand full of lotion over his thigh. When was the last time he'd even wanked? At least half a year. He scowled. He didn't like being aroused against his wishes, or plans. It made him uncomfortable. His existence, as he'd been told, was forced daily on others. Forced. Unwillingly. So his arousal, unbidden, unwanted. It all felt too… it was already fading but his hand twitched towards his wand with the want to remove the problem. Painfully. Very few spells safely removed natural arousal… well a frigid aguamenti or illusions of horrid things did the job, but directly removing arousal? Not easy. Castratus or cutting curses did the job, though not many would resort to that.
Of course, the fact that he had morning wood might just be from the fact that he had eaten actual food last night, and had to urinate. He doubted it had been that, or that alone. He didn't care to try to recall whatever dream had led to this but faint whispers told him there had been one. So he resisted the urge to find release or remove the organ and just pulled the lotion over himself before pulling up his underwear and pants. Gods, his thrall had been drunk. Therefore he had been drunk. And now felt the effects. Snape rarely got that proper pissed. He refused to become dependent on the liquid, he was already wholly reliant on another after all. It was too reminiscent of his father already, what with the vials. Getting drunk to that degree more than once or twice every few months was… he refused. He enjoyed his alcohol, but usually preferred, made himself prefer, sipping something. He had other vices, too many other vices. He didn't even have a hangover potion. He couldn't even drink water…
He could drink blood… He had a thrall. He had one of the old blood replenishers. Snape quickly, or slightly more quickly, finished applying his lotion to his arms then casting a freshening charm. He tucked the lotion away and sighed. Again. He stood and turned quickly to leave. Or tried to. The quick movement sent his head throbbing and decimated his already shaky balance. He paused as the sudden movement brought another feeling forward with his waning interest. He made actual use of the facilities then, he descended, slowly.
He stood in the doorway to see Dorfus sitting up, rubbing his head and grumbling. His feet made no sound as they hit the wood floor on their way toward the groaning man.
"Have a heada-"
"Fuck!" Dorfus jumped, startled, then grabbed his head with both hands at the noise. Snape merely frowned at the resulting throbbing in his own skull. "Ow! Fuck. … ow. No… loud noises. The fuck you come from?"
"Bathroom, freshening up. I assume you, like myself, have a hangover?"
The man nodded.
"If you help me fix mine, I will help you with yours."
"You got a potion?"
"Unfortunately no. But I do know how to get rid of a hangover."
"Greasy breakfast meat, water, more water, tea…'"
Snape nodded. He'd made that for his father when his mother was…indisposed. "But I'd like to eat first. The fact that you're… most likely iron deficient and I drank a pint or four of blood cannot be helping."
"Shouldn't… I be dead?"
"As my thrall I'm sure you're regenerating blood at a bit of a faster rate." He hoped. He hadn't really thought about it last night, the man's heart hadn't started protesting so he'd kept eating. "I also have a potion that should help, as I mentioned before. I'll give it to you after I eat."
"Why not now?"
"Because you'd just need to take more afterward. Now… If you'd be so kind?"
Dorfus nodded, a bit uncomfortable. It seemed different in the light of day, sober. Snape couldn't help but silently agree. He'd never had someone he'd come back to for food on the regular. Not anyone that would survive, not anyone that… he'd converse or have a deeper interaction with. Still, the man jerkily tilted his head and Snape stiffly leaned down. He hesitated, the man before him was… letting him eat. He was his thrall… was he… was he coercing him? Controlling him? He didn't know how to feel about it. He liked the safety, the power and control it gave him. He hated the way it made him… reminded him of...
"Are you sure you're up to this? I can-"
"Does the potion taste bad?"
"What?"
"The… blood replenisher was it? Does it taste bad? Not sure I can keep it down, definitely can't keep it down twice."
"Ah. It doesn't taste good, potions most often do not."
"And if you don't eat, your hangover won't go away?"
"Not without a potion, which I don't have, and would have to make. I can-"
"Then just get it over with, s'not like it hurts."
Snape raised a brow, apparently his thrall had a good tolerance for pain, and was amenable to helping him. He nodded and before he could think further on how reminiscent of… other things and situations this was, he bit down.
The taste of oil, copper, the vibrations of ticking clocks and the feel of soot and small gears beneath fingers. His thrall loved clocks, that was for sure. He drank and his headache quickly receded. Only a pint and he was done. He quickly handed the man the replenisher, making sure he downed half. Dorfus was swaying a bit, but quickly stopped as the potion took effect. Assured of its efficacy, Snape headed to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and quickly found what he needed. Soon the smell of rashers filled the house. The over easy eggs were cooked in the grease quickly while water boiled for tea. He felt horribly domestic, cooking for someone else while ignoring memories of him doing this long ago for his father, and for a very short while, himself. Potion ingredients were far more expensive than rashers after all.
Snape quickly poured the tea, slitting his wrist over the cup. He may as well find out if his blood cured hang overs. He could be bloody rich if that were true, although he'd have to test it on someone who wasn't his thrall as well. Still if he had any wish to survive the war he'd make a fortune rather quickly in the black market. He'd also have half of wizarding Britain under his control, not that he'd use it to do anything other than eat and get left alone.
He brought the swiftly made hangover cure to his thrall and watched the man inhale a strip of bacon and swallow the tea to aid its descent. Somehow Dorfus managed to inhale the food and maintain manners, except for the speed. Soon enough the plate was empty, the tea cup had been refilled three times and Dorfus was quickly getting ready for the day.
"Thank you, I know you didn't have to do that." Called the man from his bedroom as he rummaged through his drawers.
Snape just waved his wand to send the dishes to the sink, messes like that made him uncomfortable but he had neither the time nor magic to take care of it fully. He looked around to make sure there was no evidence of his presence then cast another freshening charm and quickly left without responding.
He'd walk back. He didn't want to waste the magic when he could easily enough walk, and it'd hopefully help clear his head. The morning air was crisp, the sky annoyingly clear. He listened to the world getting ready for the day. The sound of children complaining as mothers frantically fed them and fathers tried to read a paper. Older siblings complained, music wafted out numerous windows and cars rumbled to life. It was something he'd never truly be part of again. He was the last Snape, the bloodline died with him. It was cursed and deserved to end, or more the world didn't deserve to be cursed with another Snape.
He walked down the street, taking in the scents and sounds. It was relaxing. Until a specific smell hit his nose. That bread and butter scent. She was across the street, walking with purpose and looking around. It wasn't obvious that she was looking for something, a glance here, a smile there, but she was looking for something and he felt he had a rather good guess as to what. Him.
He swallowed, he was Not ready for this encounter. He turned quickly and made to walk down an alley to apparate away.
"Stefan!"
He froze. Too late. Or perhaps not. He could pretend he didn't hear-
"Stefan, don't you dare continue walking, I know you heard me!"
He winced. There were two other people on the street, staring as Clara waved and quickly crossed. She cursed out at a car that started inching forward past a stop sign, her middle finger very visible to the driver. Snape inched toward the alley as she was focused elsewhere. Unfortunately her attentions ended and she resumed her path toward him. He waited calmly, wondering what would come of this. Her facial expression told him nothing, especially since she was sending frequent glares back toward the car that was speeding away. She came to stop in front of him and her face relaxed.
"Stefan."
"Clara." He said with a nod.
"Look, I know something odd happened last night, I don't remember much, but there was blood and pain, and my mouth tasted like acid when I woke. I'm sure you did something to help, so thank you."
"Perhaps next time you will be more hesitant to grab hold of me when it's obvious I'm attempting egress?"
She blushed, but shook her head. "Depends on the reason for your egress. I don't like leaving disagreements unresolved. It stresses me out too much."
"I don't see what else there was to discuss." He said dryly. She frowned.
"Well why don't we discuss that in private. Can we head back to my place? I have coffee waiting and Connor just left. We'll have time."
Snape hesitated. He wasn't sure he really wanted to discuss this. Actually, he was fairly sure he didn't.
"Look, you don't have to tell me about your experience if you don't want. What I Do want to know is what that means for us. Whether that's as friends, with benefits or otherwise, lovers, acquaintances, buddies in need of therapy. Whatever we are, we need to figure that out before someone gets hurt."
Or worse. He thought. He nodded brusquely. He didn't have to talk about his… feelings. He just had to agree or disagree on what their relationship would entail. He had already decided he was willing to be used in whatever capacity she required. He could play a role, make her aware of that… or not. Either way it was payment for a safe haven that wasn't entirely repulsive.
She exhaled at his agreement, relaxing that she wouldn't have to convince him.
"Good. I really need coffee before I do anything else. I'm not sure I could have remained civil and discussed things, or chased you, or anything, much longer."
"I believe I have proof of that by your rather visual lashing of the driver."
She scowled and started walking. "He was a dick, inching forward like that. Slowly rolling through the stop sign even though I was crossing. He was a dick, he has a small dick, and his car looked like a dick."
"Perhaps he likes them." Commented Snape.
Clara snorted. The brief levity did nothing to alleviate the uncomfortable anticipation settling between them. Silence reigned as king for the remainder of the walk. Still, it was Far too soon when Clara unlocked the door.
Snape stepped inside uneasily, his face calm as his mind whirled. Could he salvage this, did he want to? What did she want?
"Coffee first."
Well, that obviously. Snape followed her determined footsteps into the kitchen where she poured herself a cup from the French press. She drank it black and hummed with pleasure at the warmth. She wore leggings again, this time with a rather long shirt underneath a faux leather jacket. It was slightly chilly that morning. Snape leaned against the doorway and waited. After a good five minutes she poured herself another cup and nodded.
"My head is where it's supposed to be now so let's get started. I need to be ready when Connor gets back this afternoon and we have limited time." A long sip of coffee preceded the first question. "So first off, what the hell happened yesterday?"
"A magical accident that can happen when one isn't careful during travel, called splinching. You were injured, I healed you and returned you here."
"And… that wasn't problematic for you?"
"It was extremely problematic for multiple reasons. It used a lot of my resources!"
"I meant wasn't it uncomfortable?"
He looked at her tense shoulders and her hands clutching the mug and understood what she was really asking.
"I didn't bite you, I am in control of myself. Don't worry." He said annoyedly.
Clara winced. "No, I meant-"
"I know exactly what you meant." He crossed his arms and glared at her. She took a step back at the image he presented and he almost smirked in satisfaction before he remembered he was trying not to alienate her. Not too much. She couldn't get too comfortable though, it wasn't safe.
"Look, I did want to know that but I more meant how are you doing after being around so much blood and probably fighting against doing something about it. It probably left you agitated. And… I apologize. I grabbed you not really expecting you to use magic and of course caused all sorts of problems for you." She looked a tad contrite as she said this, and more than a tad nervous. She was apologizing… that her thoughtlessness had inconvenienced him. Caused him problems. How… odd. How rare… it made him uncomfortable.
"Don't… your apology is accepted. You were unaware that would happen."
He watched as her shoulders relaxed a bit and as relief loosened them.
"Good. I'd like to be conscious next time you take me somewhere."
He tensed at the many many implications that came with that. That she wanted to go places with him. That she was aware he could take her away unconscious somewhere. That…
"So to that end. Do you want to take me somewhere? Or see me again after all the trouble I've caused?"
He swallowed, pushed away his concerns and nodded. This was for a safe house, not a relationship.
"So I guess the next question would be in what way?"
His stomach knotted. "Didn't you say you prefer not to plan these things?"
She nodded now. "Yeah, but you seem to need clear lines and I already know I like you."
"Like me?" Was she insane? He… he didn't want her to like him, that wasn't safe. He couldn't be here if she wasn't just using him. "In what way?"
She stared at him, half bemused and half confused. "What do you mean in what way? As a person? You're interesting and make me laugh."
Snape pushed away the budding panic, he could control this. He was in control here. "Are you mentally deficient? Interesting, amusing? Terrifying is more apt. You should be afraid of me at least a little."
"You act like I'm not." She responded dryly.
"I seem to be standing in your house, discussing what our relationship exactly entails." He shot back just as dryly.
"Look, just because I'm afraid doesn't mean I don't like you too."
He sneered, showing some fang and she stepped back, eyes wide. Then, foolishly, she stepped forward, hand out as if to reach for them. He quickly let his lip fall into place. She sighed and stopped, put her coffee cup down and shook her head.
"Look, I get it, we're both dealing with multiple problems. Relationships are difficult, messy." She stepped forward again, and softly touched his face, a half smile on her lips. He forced himself not to back away. "I personally don't mind mess as long as people clean up after." The touch was gentle, an invitation that made his skin tighten as the flinch he had held back turned to fire and blossomed into anticipation and fear. Could he really do this? Risk such a lie? He had said he would, to secure a place here. He wanted, no needed, this safe house. One nobody, not even Albus, knew of. He'd do what was needed to obtain it and deal with repercussions later, as usual. Par for the course. He swallowed and looked at her, trying to school his expression to something between stern and welcoming. Too quick of a change in his attitude would be odd.
"I'm going to ask you this once, and only-"
"Yes." She said as her finger traced his ear, now with no possible way of misinterpreting her wants.
You know this cannot be anything more-"
"And is that a problem?"
"For most normal-" He said, scowling at the multiple interruptions.
"Do I seem like I care? Do I seem like the type of woman to be scandalized? I don't have eternity to wait. I'm impatient, I don't like to move slowly once I've decided something. I found the love of my life already. Maybe I'll find another in years to come. Love is slow. Right now, I just want a friend."
He hated her in that moment. How easy it was for her to say, like she could move on, or at least accept it. He couldn't. Sure his love had… perhaps faded was not the right word. Changed was more apt. Perhaps it was an obsession now, but he still loved her, and he had still lost her, twice. He flinched back as a hand caressed his face again. He sneered. Gave her one last chance to change her mind, to prove him right so he could slip back into familiar territory. Surely they could be… friends or acquaintances without whatever this was.
"And you're sure you want me in your bed? I am not a handsome man even with my glamours on, you'd l-"
"I'll take my contacts out so I can't see you if it bothers you that much. My late husband had a scar right down his left eye from a parrot that was decidedly unhappy with him."
"Contacts?" He said, confused.
She sighed. "Plastic that goes on your eyes and mimics glasses."
He stared at her, horrified, and his face must have reflected that because she laughed.
"Soft plastic. They don't hurt at all as long as you do it right."
"And if you take them out you can't see?"
"Not things that are farther than a book in front of my face."
"And you just-"
"Are we going upstairs or not?"
He hesitated and looked away. He didn't really know. This would be his first sexual experience with a person that might be something more than… a sycophant, a servant… temporary. She hadn't mentioned why she wanted him… no… she had. She wanted company and companionship. He was filling a metaphorical hole. Still… it would be adjacent to what he should have had with Lily. It hurt to think about. For all the talk he could say that his love for her had morphed into something else, whatever it was now, he still had it. And it still hurt. His failings hurt. This was not a love that would ever fully fade, and it only grew more painful with each year. Each new failure.
No... No. He was letting her use him. He had decided on that. This was an exchange. His body, her pleasure and distraction, for a possible safe haven. He just had to remember that and it would be fine. He just couldn't let her know that he was aware that's what this was to her.
Clara grabbed his hand and pulled toward the stairs.
"Look, we can stop at any time."
Snape snorted. That wasn't the problem, the problem was starting. A sexual experience where he and his partner weren't purely using each other? What did that even look like? Could he fake that? Would he…. Grow attached? Fall so deep he deceived himself?
He fell in behind her anyway. Half numb with fear and half reeling from confusion as he followed her. What was he doing? She was… she was a muggle! He thought of pulling away, but her hand closed tighter around his, as if she knew. As if she knew he was fearfully falling back into his old ways as an escape. Was this that scary? Was it that foreign? Did he even deserve to be experiencing such a thing?
He… did he still hate them? Muggles? He told himself he didn't, he believed he didn't. But did he… look down on them? …They were human and he… he couldn't even proclaim that any more but he was still a wizard. Did… did he respect them? Could he see one as… his equal? Did it matter to her? To him? He looked at her as dragged him up the stairs.
The curves of her, the lines and jagged edges of her corners. She was… attractive. She definitely had nice legs and looking up from below she definitely had a nice… hips.
But… her mind. She was smart, by muggle standards, maybe, no probably even wizard standards, and chose to do nothing with it except run a second rate business. Why? Had she reached that ever elusive goal? Was she content?
They reached the top of the stairs and she smiled down at him as she opened the door to the right. The bedroom was simple. A bed to the left on the far wall, one big enough for two and a small child. A green and maroon checkered quilt lay on it complimenting the faux gold headboard. Bedside tables on either side of it, a lamp on one. An armoire stood across from the ensemble. In the other corner, near the window, was a small desk covered in papers and… was…
"Is that an abacus?" He asked looking back at her, and she raised a brow and chortled.
"Really? You enter a lady's room for the first time and that's what you ask?"
"I fail to see why that's a problem." He said, mimicking her expression. Yes, the banter was good, he could feel comfortable with banter and-
"You, Stefan, are an idiot." She said, but it was with a fond grin. A wholly odd expression of happiness and banter when in relation to himself. It didn't feel right. People didn't treat him this way.
"I believe I am not the one who has taken a vampire into their home, and perhaps soon their bed, after meeting them a total of three times."
"Four if you count the brief interaction at the bar."
"I don't."
"Well… You may be immortal or what have you, but I have limited time and don't care to waste it."
Before he could respond her lips closed around his, a nip of teeth teasing him. A wave of heat shot straight down and he found his hands were on her waist of their own accord. He leaned in, her hand caressing the side of his face, pulling him close. Her chest was against his, and he pulled her hips forward so he could feel her against him. The kiss was chaste, searching and tentative. Tongues tasting lips, teeth nibbling softly. It was nice. Her hand trailed paths down his back as he kissed the side of her jaw, tempted ever so slightly to move downward.
He jumped a bit as a hand squeezed his ass bringing him out of the cloudy headspace. He had a vague moment of horror that it was so simple to distract him and was instantly thankful this type of interaction would never be found amongst his enemies. His shields weren't compromised, but dammit if he hadn't had as much attention on them as he'd have liked for a moment.
"Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice butt, Stefan?"
He barked a laugh. As if! They were far too… afraid of him.
He suddenly felt guilty. This woman didn't know who he was, what he was, what he had done. That he was to be reviled. Shunned like a leper. What was he thinking, being here, doing this? Godsdammit he needed to get over this-this touch starvation. He couldn't, shouldn't be here, he was lying to her, deceiving her… r-
He began to pull away but she held on, her other hand joining the first and squeezing. He could admit it felt rather nice.
"Whatever it is that has you in mental conniptions, it can wait until we're post coitus."
He glared at her, she who was so eager to know him intimately without reservation or caution!
"And if what I say isn't to your liking?" He hissed out. "If it changes your views of me utterly?"
"How long ago was it?"
"What?" He said, still trying to back up but finding she stepped with him, hands now on his back.
"Whatver you think I'll hate you for? How long ago was it? Or was there a reason for it? Or, have you changed? I could go on, we could skirt around the issue of murder and death and sin, or I can come out and say that I will absofuckinglutely decimate anyone who harms Connor."
"But you're… you were protecting someone?"
"And you're not?"
He froze, how could she know? He swallowed and stepped back further, she came with him as he hit the wall next to the door. A bookcase dinged into his elbow as he passed, sending odd tingles up his arm.
"W-what? Ho-Who?"
"You're allowed to protect yourself Stefan."
Oh. She thought…. Still. It surely hadn't sunk in. The idea that he killed people was an abstract, seemed unreal to her. And… protect himself? No. No, he wasn't allowed to do that except insomuch as it allowed him to keep spying. He had to suffer for what he'd done, did. Would do. He had to… to make sure that… He had to stay alive to reach his goal. His promise. But other people died, he'd killed needlessly, unless you counted his sanity and as something he needed. Did he?
He'd enjoyed it. Oh merlin did he enjoy it. But he didn't deserve to. Why couldn't it just go back to the way it was before that mother fucking potion! He was suffering in silence and mostly alone and he could have lived with that until the day he died.
Now, pleasure, respite, happiness, they were brief possibilities for him to hold onto and grasp, if only for a moment. Not only did he not deserve them but they fractured his carefully laid out life and mind! But he needed to survive, to do that he needed to eat, and that felt so good and-
His head felt clouded. He knew he was quite full of hypocrisy and contradictions; he was being faced with them. He was spiraling. He checked his shields, they were fine, somehow, but inside them his normally orderly mind was a storm. And the emotions he shielded, hid, behind other deeper partitions were roiling. How? Why? He shouldn't be feeling them at all!
"Stefan? Stefan!"
Her hand was on his chest, they were against a wall. Her eyes were looking into his, fear in them. He was causing that, it's what he did. He needed to leave, this type of bliss wasn't for him. This calm friendly…. Disgustingly sweet… Thing. No. His bliss was violent, no matter how much he had once wanted this. He was a monster, and she didn't know. How could it be anything other than a deep violation of her in every way if he went forward with this? Besides, he didn't deserve it; if he tasted it, would he be able to let go?
"Stefan! Fucking hell Stefan!"
Who was Stefan? Oh, right, him.
"You're having a panic attack. Count with me."
A panic attack? That didn't sound like him. He hadn't had one for years. Not since he… right before he had gone to Dumbledore that night on the hill. That rash decision born out of panic and desperation, the only thing calming him down was the fact that there was a chance, a small chance, he could make up for it. The fact that he had a plan. He'd followed it through without thinking, said yes without truly thinking, given his life away yet again without hesitation. He didn't regret that…. Did he? No. No he didn't. It was his only reason for continuing some days and-
"Count!"
"I'." He started, but his thoughts spiraled. There was a point to this, a reason for his being here. Safehaven, right, but what had he found instead? His face stung. When had he closed his eyes? Why did his face sting? There were desperate hands on him, poking, prodding. He had no idea as to their goal. He needed to get his mind under control. He-
He gasped a deep breath as a hand grabbed his half erect self suddenly. Eyes opened as the woman in front of him started massaging him through his pants.
"What-what are you doing?" He said in his best Professor voice that was horribly unacceptably undermined by his half gasping croak.
"I thought that was pretty obvious." She said, dragging one of his hands up to her chest, the other followed automatically.
"Wh-why?" He said breathily, fighting back the torrent of thoughts and emotions that he usually held in check. His shields, they were still there, but bar-
"Well besides this being the reason we came up, I figured that it would nicely distract you from whatever the fuck this is."
"And… you know this… h-how?" He said through a particularly hard grope. She smiled as she undid his belt one handed, found his bandolier and started on that too. He should stop this, her, but as she squeezed and pulled he reacted and she pressed her other hand onto him and he really didn't want to change any of that.
"I'm sorry Stefan, but you're not unique. You're a male who's obviously interested in women and sex and it is really really not hard to use that to break you out of mental turmoil."
He tried to parse that statement but she had gotten his pants open and was was caressing him. Light touches, delicate and trailing fire behind them. He finally registered what she said, what had happened, and he found… He didn't care. He was being manipulated and he didn't care. He was going to indulge in a rare pleasure, leaping without looking. He could deal with the fallout from this later, if there was any. Right now… there were no enemies here. Surely.
He locked her lips between his, trailing his teeth on them as he let go. He reached around her back and went to undo her brassiere, he wanted to see them, see her. However, the thing wouldn't come undone. There wasn't a latch.
"It latches in the front."
He snarled his displeasure, holding onto that emotion and the blissful sensations and allowing the turmoil from before to fade. Telling it to fade. He muttered a word under his breath and the shirt slit in half, and fell to the floor along with the brassiere.
"Hey-"
"Do you care that much for a piece of cloth over my current attentions..." He said as his lips found her collar bone and his hands kneaded her chest again.
"No, I just-"
"Then I may consider fixing it later if you can manage to ignore it now." He quipped, his voice muffled from her flesh. Soft, her skin was so soft. He didn't want to mar it, not tonight. Tonight he'd pretend, just for a bit, that this was what he really wanted, that this, he, was normal, that…
He paused, breath caught in his throat when she threw his pants down. He didn't have time to protest before his underwear followed. When had he last shed his clothes in front of another person? Had he? Long ago, long long ago, and…He pushed the memory away, now was not the time f-
"Do you have some fascination with my rear?" He asked sardonically.
"It's a very nice rear." She said, squeezing again.
He shook his head. "If you insist."
"I do. You really shouldn't correct your lover you know."
He froze again. Lover. Really? Unless, this was a more casual use of the term. He looked at her briefly. It was, there was no obligation or expectation there. He smirked as her hands squeezed again.
"I believe I should return the favor."
"I fully expect you to, whatever it is."
He smirked and with a flick of his wrist her pants had fallen to the floor. He pushed her forward, banishing his shoes to the wall. She stepped back out of the pants and let him move her toward the bed.
A small push had her sitting with an oof and he kneeled down and placed one foot on his leg and began to slowly peel off the, very bright pink paisley, sock.
"These are hideous."
"I know, I love them."
"Of course you do." He trailed a finger down her calf and pulled the sock off as he lifted the leg to sit on his shoulder. He lifted the other foot onto his knee and repeated the process. He then took out his wand and cast the contraceptive charm, setting his wand down on the nearby nightstand.
He looked up at her, above him, eyes intensely focused on his every move. He slowly stood and grabbed her underwear as he did, leaning forward and moving onto the bed with her.
"What was that?" She asked and he paused.
"Contraceptive charm, for males. I don't Believe I could, but I feel the chance isn't worth it."
"I agree. Thank you."
He nodded and pulled her underwear down a bit. They had a hole in the seam on the left. She was obviously not expecting the night to go this way, or didn't care. Or didn't really think about it either way.
"My underwear is trapped now, you know."
"Do you like them?"
"What?"
"They have a rather large hole in the side."
"Oh, no, they are just comfy and I haven't-"
He pulled, and the garment ripped in half. It was quite old and threadbare. Simple cotton and gray. He smirked at Clara's expression.
"Oh."
He moved forward again on his knees and pressed himself against her. He wasn't quite ready yet. This slow foray was nice, relaxing, peaceful. A Sunday morning waking up with sunlight slicing the remaining darkness, knowing you had nowhere to be. Or a late night after a hard day, massage and kisses relieving tension. Things he would never have; but for now he'd pretend.
Sex scene.
Her hand found him, massaging pulling, gripping. Her other hand went lower and grasped too, firmly but lightly, with the palm. He tried not to make a sound when she squeezed both hands, but he grunted and closed his eyes against the sensation. The waves of anticipation slowly building to something more.
"Oh, you can make more sound than that. Talk to me."
He opened his eyes. He'd never had that request before. It usually just devolved into begging and exclamations of 'yes more' and 'take it, take all of it,' but never 'talk to me.' He didn't know what to do, he didn't think she was the kind of woman to enjoy expletives or insults he had thrown as a- He pushed the thought away. He was normal. He wasn't undead or a murderer or anything. Normal. A normal night. It still didn't solve his problem about what to say. He prided himself on being a smart man though, he could do the smart thing.
"What shall I say?" He asked as smoothly as he could with his balls literally in her hand. It was enjoyable, dangerous, trusting. Not something he'd let any of those sycophants do back then, before or even after he'd died. Here, now, her fingers sent shivers up his spine with those light touches and pools of heat boiled with her squeezes.
"It doesn't matter, you have a nice voice."
He frowned, that was very unhelpful. Well, he could just keep asking, that was technically complying.
"Well, I could talk about potion ingredients and how to cut them up. Bat wings and rat spleens." He said as he thrust into her hand, he was very nearly rock hard now.
"Ah, no, thank you." She said humorously.
"Are you sur-"
She squeezed a bit too hard and he was cut off.
"Quite. "
He smirked and moved forward, pressing his tip into her folds. "Well, I could talk about the hardships of being a teacher to students who could accidentally turn each other into trees or piles of goo."
She gasped as he pushed himself forward
"I-I no. No."
"Ah, really? Well I could talk about you. Your skin, how soft it is under my hands, how warm."
Her hands were busy while own traced lines on her thighs, light touches mimicking words.
"Y-yes?"
"Yes. I could write essays on your skin. Quill scratching for hours, tracing my thoughts endlessly. Lightly, leaving fading marks behind so-" He took a breath and let sensations wash through him. "I could write over, and over, and-" He pushed forward.
Merlin. He exhaled as he moved into her. She was just so fucking tight. It might have been just as long for her as it had been for him before this whole debacle had started. He hadn't had sex in years and now in a week or two, four times. He could get used to this. He'd love to. He doubted it was possible. He began to move slowly. In and out, in… and out. In…
"Stefan! Oh. Stefan…"
The name was sour, it would be dangerous to reveal his real name but he didn't, couldn't, bring himself to care at the moment. He could command her later. "Severus. My… real name is Severus."
"Severus! I I want-"
His name in her mouth almost made him groan. It was so genuine. So born of want for him and nothing else. He thrust in and out, feeling himself build as she said it.
"Yeesss? What do you want?"
"Severus, oh god, Severus. Fuck… me. More."
It sounded angelic, he wanted to pull that sound out of her. He leaned over and took her lower lip in his, kneaded it with his less sharp teeth, licked it slowly before pressing his tongue forward to explore her mouth. He hadn't kissed like this since before he'd died. She opened, he entered her above as below. A warm cavern, she sucked at his tongue and he thrust forward in reaction to the sensation. His fangs, her teeth, a combination; he wasn't sure as they both bucked and closed their mouths, whose fault it was, but his lip bled. She moaned, and he cursed pulling away. All that tension he had built, gone. All that warmth, blurring their edges, shattered. It felt stark and cold now.
"You… your blood tastes like licorice and-."
He sat up and mumbled a curse, still buried in her, and pinched his nose. Wonderful. He hadn't wanted this tonight. He was trying to build a relationship here, false as it was. One reliant on addiction to him wouldn't be feasible if he was absent half the year. Both his 'masters' also occasionally set him to tasks that took weeks to complete and gave no time for a quick floo somewhere to fuck and let off steam. The only breaks he'd taken when brewing or spying back then had been to eat and…
"Like licorice and…warmth. I…"
"Please, don't ask for more. It can be an aphrodisiac, especially like this. I just…" he frowned and looked away.
Her hand reached to his face and turned it back toward her. She nodded slowly. "I understand."
"Do you? Do you really?" He said scornfully, doubtfully. A petulant disbelieving child who'd had candied bliss taken away from them suddenly.
She nodded again, ignoring his displeasure. "Normalcy. You want normalcy. I… I understand." She touched his face, gently. It felt nice, tender, wrong for someone like him. He pulled her hand away and looked at her, she met his gaze. "Will you heal? Is that myth true?"
Such a small cut? He already had. He nodded distractedly, still mourning the loss of the heady lie.
"Then I'd like to kiss you again."
He paused, but pulled out slowly and lay down beside her so there would be no more accidents. He moved toward her and she smiled as their lips met. Her tongue pressed against his lips, asking for entrance. He hesitated, she knew, but… he didn't want to taste her that way tonight. She pulled away.
"I know. They're sharp." She said as if reading his mind. He should be more concerned about that he supposed, but when she leaned back down this time he let her enter.
Her tongue explored his mouth, and it quickly found them. His fangs. He moaned as her tongue touched them. He felt they shouldn't be this sensitive, but he supposed he could feel his other teeth when they touched things, the nerves in these were even more sensitive. She touched them, it was inevitable. He shouldn't have let her, but her tongue felt so good in his mouth. Something alive and benign that wasn't sustenance. Her tongue moved, slid back, and she cut herself.
Fresh sourdough bread with butter. Cider. A feeling of love. Oh gods that feeling. It was so complex, so intense. He groaned and began to suck on her tongue. She ministered to him elsewhere, providing a counterpoint ti the sweetness in his mouth. He pulled her toward him, sucking at the wound, the warmth of her in his ice. He needed more. He needed all of it. All of her. To drink her down and carry her with him.
She began to move faster, squeezing between his thighs and he bucked forward. He kneaded her and she moaned into his mouth. Whispered his name against his tongue. That was odd, how he knew that movement was his name, how softly and kindly she spoke it, it didn't seem right. She squeezed again and he was brought further back to himself.
He stopped and pulled out from the kiss. He wanted other parts of her, a normal night. Right. Normal. A lie, a beautiful lie. It was his turn and he played her body as she had toyed with his.
"Nnnmmmyes!" She arched, rubbed against him, slowing the movement of her hand. He nearly verbally lamented the loss and made to move himself so he could once again enter her and-
"Let me… be on top. Let me ride you."
He stopped and raised a brow; he'd never let anyone do that before. Well, once, but he'd rather not think about that. He enjoyed knowing he was the one making them melt, make sounds. Having someone do it for him… It didn't seem quite right. He didn't learn much from his father, but that was one drunk conversation he remembered. Even if he ignored the second part about deserving it, about rights, incoherent rambling as his father had another beer.
He looked at Clara. He didn't deserve it, for someone to do something like that for him. He doubted it was about control, not in a dangerous or cruel way at least. It would be about pleasing him, surely. Even in his lie he couldn't go quite that far.
"Please."
She was so earnest. She obviously wanted it, maybe it was for her benefit? Maybe she liked the way it felt? He nodded and lay down on his back and she sat up on top of him, on display as she got ready.
He gasped. A new but familiar sensation, flesh touching in new ways; he began to move automatically, feeling impotent all the same. Her legs, used to moving and standing all day, set a good pace and he tried to echo it. Falling so far, so… perfectly.
"Merlin. Don't- don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it." She started to undo his shirt buttons and he stopped moving.
"Don't worry, I won't take it all the way off if you don't want."
He paused, but nodded once, and she only undid the top four buttons. She leaned down and trailed her mouth across his chest as Snape felt her contours with his finger tips. He made a soft sound almost resembling her name as her tongue laved him. Fiery lips against the cold stone that was his flesh, igniting him painfully with need.
Gods it was good, but with her bent over, the angle just wasn't as fulfilling, nearly hurt in fact, and not in a good way. Besides, after her mouth on him he needed that liquid friction. He pushed her away slowly and ground up.
"No no. Not yet." She said as she undid more buttons.
What? He felt his brain try to understand that. Right, she wanted to be in control. How odd. He hadn't been with a partner that wanted to be in control for a very long time. He felt nauseous as he remembered who the last one was and pushed the memory away yet again. Still, he wasn't sure how he felt about ceding even more control. He was about to say so when her tongue found his stomach.
He did not like the sound that escaped him, he did not like it at all. Hitching breath into a half stuttered gasp. He had never liked the fact that he was ticklish, and the sensitive flesh on his stomach and sides reminded him of that fact as her tongue laved and drew lines of wet sensation up and down. Unlike being tickled though this felt on the edge of a different type of madness.
Her hands were holding his wrists down. He could easily push her off but at the same time he couldn't because then she'd stop. Was this why she wanted to be on top, this false sense of control over the big dangerous monster? Was she getting off on it? Did she want to see him brought low and -dear merlin her tongue between his pecs. He shivered. He needed more, he needed to move. He tried to but her half bent over angle made it hurt, made it difficult. But he needed it. It was obvious he did and she was ignoring him.
"Clara. Stop. I want to move and-" he trailed off. Saying what he wanted, that he wanted to thrust and move in her hard and hot and desperately until he came and filled her till she dripped sounded so vulgar in his head. To say it out loud was even more so. To say it to her, to a woman he was trying to build this lie with was surely crude?
"Mmm? What do you want?" She asked before giving a particularly hard sucking kiss. It was torture, mild as it was she was torturing him. Why? He was the one supposed to be doing this, bringing her to the edge of frenzied salvation. Where did she get off-
His brain just stopped as she finally began to gyrate, finally gave him sensation down there. He hated the groan that escaped from his lips. He hated the one that followed it when it became obvious she was content just doing that for a good long while to keep teasing him. What had she asked him?
"Clara, lean… back." He whispered the instructions. She ignored him. This slow build was glorious but he needed more. He needed it now. His wrists finally pulled out from under her hands and he grabbed hers. He looked at her as she made a rather sharp motion that caused him to gasp through the next word he said.
"Please, lean back. I need you to lean back."
"There's the magic word I needed. Being a wizard is thought you'd know it."
At long last she did, and he held onto her hands as she let gravity pull her back, ignoring the horrid joke about magic. The opposing forces angled him into her. He flexed and pushed back and she gasped.
"Severus. Oh god, right there. Hold that, oh god."
He flexed, holding himself at the angle she had landed on when she pleaded. She fell back down and he filled her. She moved steadily, up and down and he was getting closer and closer with each pull of gravity, each gasp of his name. Yes, yes, this was what he needed and finally, finally it was happening. He was so hard, each movement a step on a path with a very well known end, and he was getting so close. That coil in him tightening, ready to release. Soon, far too soon.
"Merlin. If you don't stop-"
"If I don't stop… what… st-Severus? What will you do?"
Oh, she liked to pull it out of him, play those games. And his name in her mouth. She was so unabashedly obviously toying with him. And enjoying it. Enjoying him. Who in their right mind… No. The lie. The lie that he deserved this, that he was normal. He had to believe it, even falsely for a bit, if he wanted to make this act believable.
"I… would hope that after… having a son you'd know… Gods!" He barked out the last word as she fell particularly hard. He hoped his nails weren't leaving scratches on her wrists as he pulled each time she reached a zenith and came back down. Although, maybe that would be nice, those slight marks on her proving that this hadn't just been some figment of his deranged mind. Those marks showing he'd slammed her into him as if by some miracle he would be able to go farther, deeper, live inside her warmth. Bury himself in it until he faded from existence. He was so close, and andandand-
She was moving even faster now, ignoring his words. She wasn't nearly as close as him, and he-
"Clara. Stop. If you want this to continue for much longer… I'd… I'd suggest you stop.… I'm going to-"
"That sounds like a very good reason not to."
He let go of her hands but she held onto his still, kept moving. He wanted to switch positions, thrust into her hard from behind, on top, the side. Regain control, ram his release into her until she found her own but, but- This felt so good. They were a piston and it's sheath, a perfect fit and well oiled as she moved. He bottomed out yet again and grunted, trying to hold back, trying to stave off the end until she found hers. He could, he would, he-
"Come for me, Severus."
That did it, that request. His name in her mouth sounding like she knew him, cared that it was him who she was fucking and not someone else. The lie that she was here for him and not his status as a Death Eater, not his blood, not just his prick, him. He couldn't hold it back and he saw white as his whole body came undone, pulsed. He was not often a vocal man; occasional grunts and groans could be pulled from him. This was a new experience. He actually wanted to say something, she had asked after all, but he couldn't. He was silent, unable to articulate anything, his voice snatched away from him. He didn't think he had ever come this hard before. Not without blood. He shook with the intensity of it all, shivered with the sensation of release as tension ebbed from every bit of skin she'd brought to the edge of sanity with her tongue. Relief.
He looked up at her face and saw her grinning, smug and happy. He smirked. He could play that game. He could toy with her just as easily. He planned to. Revenge.
He threw her off of him and rolled her on her back, sliding down the bed. She gasped as she hit the covers, and then again as he buried his face in her heat.
"Severus, I-"
"Shhh." He spoke into her flesh, and she whined. He explored her expertly, and was rewarded.
"Se-, nnnnnnI… I can't… Oh god."
He ignored her and continued to take his turn laving her flesh. He enjoyed the sounds she made, the squirming, the half stutters of his name as he played with her. There was pressure on his head as she squeezed him with her thighs.
"I-I I can't. Oh god. Severusto-. Oh god I might actually. Yes. Oh god."
He smirked doubled his efforts. She gasped and her hands pulled at his hair, trying to pull him upward then push him down like she couldn't decide. She was building, tightening. He buried himself deeper.
She tightened, thrashing above him, feet kicking out in desperation. She tightened, then loosened, and then began to tighten again. She pulled at his hair, thighs releasing him.
End.
"S-severus. Stop. Stop! I-I can't handle any more!"
At that he froze, ice filling him for a moment before looking up at her, a tad scared, nauseous. He tried to calm himself, he'd stopped when she'd said to, he had. He was sure of it. He removed himself suddenly, near violently, from her person; as if her skin was made of fire. She hadn't expected it and with hand tangled in his hair a good few strands were left behind. She panted for a moment, regaining her breath while he regained composure.
"Why exactly am I stopping?" He said as calmly as he could.
"I I've had enough. I'm done."
Ok, that was fine. That wasn't… wasn't a changed mind or her coming out of a thrall he had unknowingly put on her. He scowled, what that was was incorrect. "You are most certainly not."
"I am." She said smiling. "It was very nice, I had a wond-"
"You didn't finish."
"And I won't. I'm on so many anti-depressants I haven't had an orgasm since I was nineteen."
Severus frowned, trying to comprehend what she was saying. She sighed.
"I have anorgasmia. I can't have an orgasm. Or at least not easily."
Snape looked at her, even more confused and concerned as to her intentions now. Had this really been just an exercise to debase him, control him? He backed away, more than a little disturbed at the thought. It reminded him too much of… "And you took me to bed knowing you wouldn't get anything from it?"
Clara laughed. "Oh I got plenty! I had a great time. Sex is a journey, the destination doesn't have to be the same every time."
"I find the destination to be rather important." He said with a pointed look. She hadn't intended to debase him then. She seemed to mean her words. Then what did she want?
"It usually is with men." She responded with a smirk.
Snape frowned again at that; he had a feeling his entire gender had just been insulted and he wasn't even sure how. He pushed that aside. Still, he relaxed a bit, knowing, hoping she hadn't been doing this just to bring him low.
He was fairly sure he could give her an orgasm, but it would involve his blood, and would it be a curse more than a blessing? To have something and then have it taken away? Also, why did he care so much?
"What's on your mind?" She asked as she carded his hair. He pushed himself off the end of the bed and stood up. He summoned his underwear and pants, quickly dressed, and as usual when distressed or in thought, he paced. He was not one for post coital fussiness. For snuggling, for niceties and sweet little nothings. Not normally, those things were not…
But that's not what this was. As far as he was concerned he was deciding if they were indeed even done. He could do this for her, it felt wrong to end on such uneven ground. Usually he took pleasure and gave some in return. Tonight he had been given some and given nothing in return. He liked knowing he was the cause of such euphoria when he normally just caused pain. He felt off balance, like he had lost something, like the world was slightly off its axis. He was not a kind man, he was not a generous lover in so much as it fulfilled his pri-
He stopped. That's what this was. Pride, something that more often than not was a man's downfall. It got in the way, led to death. As a spy, as a Death Eater, he was not allowed pride. He glanced back at Clara, the woman who had invited him into her bed with no expectations from him, in fact less expectations than many women had. She was looking at him with concern, but was quiet. She was a rather intuitive woman, she could tell he wasn't angry at her but was more… trying to piece together a puzzle. This was no place for pride either. If he wanted to disappear here, if he needed to vanish into the persona of Mr. Stefan Miller and ask for a room, a place in her be-basement, he was going to have to tread carefully. Dorfus was his thrall, and his food, but this would be his persona. Keeping them separate meant he was less likely to be found out, cut off if one failed.
Giving her this, something she could become rather addicted to could either make or break the security of his false life here. However, giving her the choice to fall into such a trap might eliminate his culpability a bit. She might hate him, but she wouldn't be able to blame him, not as much, not with as smart as she was.
"I… could give you an orgasm. In fact I am fairly certain I could. But…"
"It would involve your licorice blood? Thank you Severus, but no. Not tonight. Tonight was nice though, thank you."
This had to be the oddest sexual experience he had ever had. A woman saying 'thank you' like he would have had he been given a box of rare herbs? He shook his head and dismissed the thought. "Open your mouth."
Clara blinked. "What? Why?"
"You cut yourself on my teeth. I'm going to heal it."
"I… I cut myself? I didn't even feel it. Didn't taste it either."
"Of course you didn't." He snapped. "Did you not notice I was suddenly latched onto your tongue like a leech? Open your mouth." He said as he drew his wand from his jacket as he put it on.
"Oh… Oh! Uhhh" she floundered a bit, trying to reconcile the abundance of feelings. Horror, disgust, lust… perhaps regret. She seemed to snap out of it and her eyes widened. "Oh I'm so sorry Severus. I know you wanted a normal evening!"
"Don't be. I stopped." He said, raising the wand. "Now, open your mouth."
She swallowed and nodded, sticking her tongue out for good measure. A quick episky sealed it up and he nodded satisfied. With another wave his shirt and frock were buttoned up. He sheathed his wand and noticed Clara watching him with a smile.
"What? You've now seen me do far more impressive things with both my wands, what do you find so interesting?"
"Do… Does blood just taste like blood to you? I've always found its flavor to be rather gross."
"No, it does not."
"How did I taste?"
Snape sighed, why did people always want to know this? It was so… uncomfortable talking about such things.
"Please? I'll… I'll owe you one?"
Oh, oh those words were far more dangerous than she knew and so so tempting. He couldn't have resisted had he been alive, the Slytherin in him was yelling at him not to pass up the opportunity, no matter how awkward it was.
"How big of a 'one'?" He purred.
She shrugged. "As long as it doesn't threaten my job or Connor's well-being I don't really care. And yes, I am aware that is a wonderfully broad statement."
Ah. With that sentence she practically yelled to him she would have been sorted into Slytherin if she was a witch. It was a brash sort of cunning, very in your face. It let him know he was being manipulated, but, that in itself was part of the tactic, and it was very enticing.
He took a breath and sat down, wondering if she knew that was most likely the perfect thing to say to get him to talk, and how dangerous it was to offer such a thing.
"Like fresh sourdough bread and butter, crisp cider, with a feeling of love mixed into it. That is what your blood tasted of."
"Wow, well good to know I have a nice bouquet or what have you."
"You.. what?" If she was saying what he thought she was, it was quite… insane.
She ignored his confusion at her lackadaisical attitude. "Good to know I taste nice you twit."
He looked at her, the joviality in her eyes, the calmness in her shoulders. She was relaxed. Perhaps… this was about conquering something. Her fear of him. She knew him now, that he reacted just like most other men, most likely could be manipulated in the same way when it came to sex. Not that he'd let her when it came to anything important, but it was still a point of control for her against the many many he had over her if he so chose. A supposed single chink in his armor for her to use if needed. Not that she would, hopefully. Hopefully she had also learned that she didn't need to during this whole escapade. She was still obviously covering up her discomfort at the fact he'd drunk from her with snark. He could oblige. "You are aware you are offering me very little that points in favor of your sanity?"
"As I said, I don't have time to waste, and that includes pandering to other's perceptions to make them comfortable. Now, are you going to tell me what that whole panic attack was about?"
He reeled at the change of topic. The woman would most definitely have been in Slytherin, manipulating conversation as well as she did, purposefully offering him a false advantage and favor to make him comfortable before turning the tables to unbalance him. He clenched his jaw. She had seen… a far more human side of him than anyone had besides Minerva or Albus in a… very long time. His shields were still compromised in certain situations it seemed. Now she was searching for more information, more proof he was in some ways, just a man. He would not oblige her in that, not when the topic revealed far more than a small bit of humanity, but a weakness. Part of his unhappy past.
"No."
She looked at him with raised brows and eyes that were not to be dissuaded or ignored. "Really? You had a panic attack when I complimented your ass. That's not good."
"Obviously." He said acerbically. She however did not relent in her hard and patient scrutinizing of him. Merely folded her arms across her chest and raised a brow. He sighed but relented, she would sit and wait until he acquiesced, like Minerva. If he just up and left this whole, admittedly pleasant, ordeal could be for nought. Besides, he could order her not to speak about it. He averted his gaze before he started to speak. "Everyone is… I have reasons for being so, but everyone is quite terrified of me, whether or not they know of my condition. So no, no one has ever complimented my… physique before."
"Not even when you were younger?"
"I was as equally unapproachable for other reasons." He said, not liking where the conversation was going. "As you were unaware of this it felt like lying… akin t-"
She cut him off. "Well then, I'll just have to make up for it by complimenting your ass every time I see or write to you."
He blinked. That… was not where he was expecting this to go. He whipped his head toward her from staring at her abacus.
"You wouldn't." He hissed, not thinking he could withstand the embarrassment, even in private.
"What?" She smiled impishly. "You really didn't see that coming? Seriously Severus, you said you were smart."
He frowned. He'd just have to talk her out of it, it couldn't be that difficult. There were more important matters now.
"I suppose I will just have to… endure your verbal nonsense… However, I do need a promise from you. I need you to Never reveal my true name to anyone, nor what you've learned of me. It could be dangerous.
She scoffed and shook her head. "Of course I wouldn't. For one, no one would believe me that I know someone named after a Roman Emperor, two, I'm not an idiot. You told me that muggles aren't really allowed to know about this and I don't fancy being taken away and mind wiped by the magic bobbies. Or whatever you call them."
"Aurors."
"Not a fan. Besides the fact that I don't want someone messing with my head it would be really annoying to have to get to know you again. Can you imagine? You come in to say hi and I brain you with a frying pan. And the one that I always keep on the stove is cast iron. It'd just devolve from there I'm sure."
He huffed a small laugh. "I do believe it would."
"I'm so glad you agree with me. Maybe you are intelligent after all. Now, you need to fix my brassiere, my shirt, and you owe me some underpants."
He frowned and looked away as if he was being deeply imposed upon. "I do not recall saying I would replace the underwear, only fix the-"
A pillow hit his face before he could finish, he didn't bother dodging. It, as she said, just devolved quite quickly from there again.
He reformed and transfigured her pair of underwear before he left late that afternoon, black, with a bright green lattice of snakes. Or S's depending on how one looked at it. It didn't mean anything. It was just a lie after all.