Beggars May Ride
Notes: This story was written for the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest, Pairing:
It had taken trial and error, practice, and some of Snape's best Perfect Proportions Potion to get them to this place, but it had been worth every mistake, bruise, false start, and sprained knee.
Bent almost double, his ankles near his ears, Snape was crushed under Hagrid's not-inconsiderable weight, pressed down into the bed so that he could barely breathe, sweat dripping into his eyes (not all of it his own), his joints creaking, feeling like an overstuffed Christmas turkey.
And thoroughly enjoying every single second of it.
Hagrid's enormous hands clutched the bed sheets either side of Snape's head, the muscles in his arms bunching and relaxing as he kept the bulk of his weight off Snape's body, his phenomenal strength caged as he ploughed Snape's body in a steady, almost-pounding rhythm. It was too hot, squashed under all this muscle and Snape panted for air, breathing in the sweet scent of the honey flavoured potion and the tang of his own sweat.
"Yer so tight," Hagrid huffed, getting a little snap to his rhythm as Snape relaxed into the invasion a little more. "Yer so sexy."
Snape pushed his hips up, taking Hagrid a little deeper and nipped carefully at the closest nipple, a small reward for the compliment. Snape often thought Hagrid made love with his clumsy words as much as with his body. His words were blunt, his phrases simple and to the point, but sometimes that was just what Snape needed, even more than Hagrid's incredibly talented tongue or generous hands. Hagrid may not have been as skilled with his words as he was with his body, but there were times that Snape found he really wanted to be sexy, or beautiful, or whatever nonsense Hagrid spouted. It wasn't that he actually believed what Hagrid said, but he believed Hagrid believed it, and at the grand age of 37, Snape found that for once in his life he was beautiful to someone, and more and more, he needed it.
To at least one person in his life, Snape was not the ugly, big nosed, greasy git. Although only a handful of people had found it necessary to point out to him how hideous they found him, he'd been made well aware, from a very young age, that he was probably the ugliest person to have ever attended Hogwarts. Which was a stupid thing for an academic to be concerned with, as he'd told himself when he'd been a teenager. He had more important things to worry about than his looks. Which was precisely why he'd never made, much less taken an Enchanting Potion, or used a charm to create the illusion of a handsome visage or even put into practice the principles of good grooming to make the best of what he did have. If people were offended by his looks, then by goodness, he'd offend them.
In his darker moments, with Hagrid snoring loudly beside him, Snape wondered if the compliments were merely lies to get him into bed. But then why would Hagrid want to bed him if he didn't find Snape attractive? He'd pursue the question farinto the wee hours of the night. At other times he'd ponder the types of things that Hagrid found attractive. Snapping, snarling beasts, all tooth and claw. The more monstrous and terrifying other people found Hagrid's beasts, the more Hagrid loved them. Snape oftimes considered himself one of Hagrid's monsters. Slightly less well liked and more frightening than a Blast Ended Skrewt. This was, he had eventually decided after spending a day being peevish on this point, rather appealing. But he couldn't make time for these thoughts now. His doubts about their relationship were burned away by the cauldron fire of Hagrid's lust.
The sheets were tangled and twisted underneath them, an uncomfortable testament to the long time he and Hagrid had spent this evening getting to this point. Hagrid had long since thrown the blankets to the floor.
"Oh, yer so lovely," Hagrid groaned, sweat beading on his forehead, trapping twisted strands of his untamed hair.
Snape would have reached up to brush the hair from Hagrid's eyes, but he couldn't quite reach at this angle, so he settled for giving Hagrid a broad grin instead, and started whispering little charms into the heaving chest in front of his face. Small charms to make Hagrid's skin feel like it was being stroked by a hundred gentle fingers, then rubbed by silken furs, and as Hagrid growled, eyes closed in bliss, Snape drew on the power of the wand stashed under his pillow to send the sensation of chills like cold champagne, followed by drips of hot wax down Hagrid's expansive back. He found that sex was one of the few things he didn't need to talk through. He liked to concentrate entirely on what he was doing. And who. There was a lot of Hagrid and he felt he needed to pay attention to keep everything going the way he wanted. He'd leave the talking to Hagrid, who didn't care what nonsense he babbled, and concentrate on teasing the big man with silly little charms instead.
"Oh, yeh cheeky little thing!" Hagrid gasped out. "We'll see 'bout that!" Hagrid bent his head down, kissing Snape's mouth to silence. What he lacked in magical skill, Hagrid more than made up for in enthusiasm and exuberance. He grabbed Snape's hands in one of his, holding them up on the crushed pillows, and ran his other hand down Snape's side.
Twisting, pinned by Hagrid's body, Snape smirked against a face full of whiskers as Hagrid's large, callused hand ran down his side. Hagrid used something he'd boiled up to try and keep his hands soft for caressing Snape's skin, but even so his daily hard work kept them just a little rough, tickling just slightly, and Snape squirmed and wiggled, letting the movements screw him down even more firmly onto Hagrid's cock.
He squeaked in surprise as Hagrid suddenly flipped their positions, lifting Snape up so he was perched on top, hands on Hagrid's hairy belly. He settled down, letting Hagrid slide in deep again, feeling Hagrid's heart pulsing where their bodies were joined, throbbing deep within himself and sending echoes through his own flesh.
He loved to see the lust in Hagrid's eyes. Bright and childlike with delight most of the time, caring and soft with his animals and the students, but right now, absorbed in his own physicality, Hagrid's face was darkened with lust. Like Snape had never seen in another face before. He stared deep, inhaling their mingled scents through his mouth in deep breaths, absorbing the sight like a dry sponge. Filled up and overflowing with Hagrid's affection and desire, at times like this he felt like a cracked and dry desert floor during the rains, healing and filling with life.
A nimbus of magic surrounded them, an aura of power that flared and flickered, sparked from their passion and the heat between them. Snape smirked in satisfaction, smug with the knowledge that no one else at the school was making the same magic that he and his lover were making this night. My lover, he savoured the thought once more as Hagrid's power met his own, merging as their bodies merged, carefully released to increase the sensations that flowed between them, letting them feel each other's pleasures and discomforts. My lover. He loves me. He's said so many times. Thinks I'm lovely. Snape grinned broadly again, as he raised and lowered himself, in counterpoint to Hagrid's rhythm beneath him. He didn't even mind showing his crooked teeth with Hagrid.
"Yer so lovely," Hagrid gasped, his speed picking up, "Yer all pared to the bone, like a thestral. Spare 'n' elegant."
Hagrid's magnificent pizzle didn't just rub exquisitely against Snape's prostate, but it felt like it made love to every single organ in his body as it passed, and Snape wouldn't be surprised to find one day that it kissed his heart from the inside, too. Fanciful thoughts, but right now as he was lifted from the bed again and again, it seemed appropriate.
He was so close, sliding up and down, fucking himself happily. He could feel Hagrid getting closer, too, Hagrid's heart thundering like a storm under his hands. He slipped one hand down to take hold of himself, but Hagrid beat him to it, taking the aching flesh into one large hand and stroking him firmly, root to tip.
Snape leaned into the stroking, blissfully letting his eyes close, Hagrid's voice washing over him as the big man babbled is way to the apex, babbling how lovely Snape was, how sexy, how gorgeous, hot, tight, lovely, hot, beautiful... and it was Snape who groaned in broken relief as Hagrid came, filling Snape up with heat and Snape took it as a tribute, as a victory, as the spoils of their toil.
He put both of his hands around Hagrid's, holding the big man's fingers in place as Hagrid relaxed, and used their size and roughness to stroke himself onwards. He squeezed his inner muscles tighter as Hagrid softened, although there was really no danger of Hagrid slipping out. Even with the Perfect Proportions Potion, it was a very snug fit.
Hagrid's hands were firm again, stroking harder, and Snape pushed himself to the peak, their eyes locked, Hagrid's voice deep as he whispered words of encouragement, one large hand stroking Snape's chest, easing him up and over. Snape gasped, his breath catching on one perfect moment of ecstasy, before he gave his own offering to Hagrid's waiting hand.
"So beautiful, Severus. Yer really are the sexiest man I've ever seen."
Snape collapsed onto Hagrid's chest, warm arms enfolding him, as the final flashes of their magic sparkled and faded around them. He wondered vaguely if he should offer compliments back, but he wasn't good at them, as Hagrid was, and he found talking through sex difficult. In fact, it was one of the only times when he wasn't facile with words. Perhaps because his usual complaints and bitter recriminations would be out of place in their bed.
"You're the only person on this planet that would see me as beautiful or sexy, Hagrid," Snape murmured, absent-mindedly swatting at a few magical sparks that came too near his face.
"I'm teh only one who sees yeh for who yeh really are, Sev," Hagrid growled sleepily. "The whole world should see yeh as I do." Hagrid yawned, murmuring almost in his sleep. "I wish they could see yeh as beautiful, like I do. If they saw the truth, then maybe ye'd believe it yerself."
Snape was being attacked by a bush, or was it osculated by a sheep, he wasn't sure, but why it was in the giant cauldron with him was more of a puzzle although it all seemed to make sense... Then he woke up to find he was being nuzzled by an enormous beard.
"Get off me, you great lummox," he muttered into his pillow, slitting one eye to give Hagrid the glaring of a lifetime.
"I'm off teh do some early muckin' out. Would yeh like teh come an' help?" Hagrid asked, eyes twinkling with cheek.
"No, I bloody well would not, as you well know. I have another half hour at least before I have to get up, and I am not at all tempted to rise early by the prospect of shovelling mountains of exotic and possibly corrosive dung."
Chuckling broadly, Hagrid tucked the blankets more firmly around Snape's ears and thudded off to take care of his early morning chores. Of course, it wouldn't be a chore to him, Snape knew. Hagrid would simply love his early morning muck out and chat with the various exotic creatures that had created the muck. Snape, on the other hand, would cheerfully put many tasks ahead of walking through the poisonous fumes of Thestral shit, or sliding in the wet squits of a Hippogriff.
Unfortunately, without Hagrid, the bed rapidly cooled, and Snape found himself growing discontent. He'd become used to rolling down in his sleep into the deep indentation Hagrid made in the mattress and using him as an enormous hairy hot water bottle; using a heating charm on the bed was no longer an acceptable substitute.
He reached a hand out of his cocoon of blankets to yank the ribbon that summoned his own personal house-elf, Bob. Not Bobby or Bobbet or any other daft combination. Just Bob. Snape had secretly been training Bob in potions making, something Bob had requested, as Bob was part of a small underground house-elf rebellion and he wanted a career once he'd overthrown his masters. Snape complied, not because he had any particular beliefs in the political freedom of house-elves, but because he believed it was obviously a good idea to make an ally of the one who made his morning cup of tea. Bob was also a better student than many of his misbegotten human and human-like students, something which gave Snape a degree of satisfaction. Even a house-elf could do better than Neville Longbottom.
"TEA!" he bellowed, trying to keep the whine out of his voice, and a small bright face appeared, far too close to his own, and a cup of tea was thrust into Snape's hand. He sat up, careful not to spill his tea, still wrapped in blankets, his eyes crusted with sleep and his hair mostly standing on end, and sipped at the too-hot liquid until more of his brain sparked to life.
His slippers, warmed carefully in front of a fire somewhere, were presented, and he slipped his feet into them, slowly unwrapping himself from his blankets and staggering to the bathroom.
"Sir is looking very well this morning," chirped Bob.
Snape grunted, rubbing his eyes.
"Would sir like Bob to help him with his bath?" Bob asked, running the taps, eager to be of assistance.
"No, sir would not," Snape mumbled, handing back his empty teacup. "Sir would like you to bugger off now and let him have some peace."
Snape stripped off quickly and lowered himself gingerly into the very hot water, just lying back and relaxing, adding some salts, and letting the heat ease any muscle strains or bruises from the night before. There was a certain amount of physical hazard involved in his relationship with Hagrid, although the rewards more than made up for it.
He startled from his dozy reverie when nimble fingers started to comb through his hair.
"What are you doing?" he grumbled.
"Bob thinks Professor Snape has very pretty hair," Bob simpered, almost stroking him.
"Out!" Snape pointed to the main rooms. "Go tidy something." How impertinent!
He finished scrubbing and made a mental note to wash his hair. Pretty or not, it was in dire need. Probably later in the week, he thought to himself. It was always such a chore. He much preferred to have Hagrid do it for him. How odd of Bob; it was unusual for a house-elf to have any interest in humans other than as givers of orders, and Snape had certainly never had that type of attention from one. He dismissed the thought. Bob was probably trying to angle for more privileges.
Much more awake, he went into his room, aimed a half-hearted kick at Bob who was lurking outside his door - Snape hated lurkers in all their forms, and being a House Elf was not a valid excuse to his way of thinking - and went to get dressed.
He rummaged around under his pillow, until his fingers closed around his wand, and tucked it into his robes. Since he'd started his relationship with Hagrid, he'd found it far less necessary to have it with him at all times, and would now use the bathroom without feeling the need to have the wand to hand. He still liked to keep it as handy as possible though; one could never be too certain about midnight break ins, ill thought out pranks from the students, or random homicidal Death Eaters.
So armed and fortified, he was ready to face the day and stalked down the corridors of his castle. He was on his way to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, before the smelly, dishevelled students came to ruin his morning, when he was accosted by Hooch. She still smelt of wind and mist and early morning Quidditch practice, her cheeks flushed pink and her bright yellow hawk-like eyes sparkling from her outing. He knew she loved the game with a passion, flying every chance she got, and he respected that. He didn't understand it, but she had a way of convincing a person.
"Good morning, Severus," she said, matching his stride, her boots thudding loudly on the cobbled floors.
"Morning," he replied, shortly.
"You're looking very well today, Severus," she said, smiling broadly at him.
He looked at her sideways. Although they usually managed to get on reasonably well together, she rarely offered a compliment without having an ulterior motive behind it. Not that she expected him to fall for it, ever; it was just her way of warning him when she wanted something.
"What what?" she hadn't lost her bright smile.
"What do you want!" he rolled his eyes.
"Nothing, Severus. Honestly, can't someone compliment you without your snapping their head off?"
"Well, I just wanted to say you look very well today. Very..." she groped for a word, "healthy, for a change. Not at all your usual deathly pallor. Have you taken up Quidditch again?"
"No," Snape was getting annoyed. He never looked healthy and they both knew it.
"Have you found some cure-"
"No," Snape snapped, pausing before he entered the hall. "If you want something, just ask! Stop with your ridiculous prattling, woman."
She laughed gaily and patted him on the shoulder. "Never mind, Severus. I'm just glad to see you looking so well." And she left him to continue his journey. He sat at his usual place at the table, and started shovelling in the food. Minerva joined him a moment or two later, and he toned down the speed of his consumption. No need to be seen eating like a beast - but his exertions of late often left him absolutely ravenous. Two or three hours of vigorous fucking every night was a marvellous aid to the appetite.
"Good morning, Minerva," he said, once his mouth was clear.
"Severus," she nodded primly. "You're looking very smart today."
"Smart?" he questioned. He was always smart.
"Well groomed. Have you done something new?"
Considering he hadn't washed his hair for at least a week, he could only conclude that the two women were in on some kind of practical joke. The desperately unfunny results would probably be revealed later. But he could ill afford to alienate McGonagall as an ally, so he said nothing, just glared at his fried bread.
"Really, Severus, there is something different. You look quite... handsome." Her tone of voice was almost surprised. Snape wasn't sure whether to be offended at her falsehood, or the fact she was saying he wasn't handsome all the rest of the time. But he knew he wasn't, so he continued to ignore her as he finished his meal and left, ignoring people being his best effort at peaceful co-relations.
His morning classes were uneventful. For some reason they were even quieter than normal - few dared make noise in his classes - but most refused to cower in terror today as per the usual custom. In fact they seemed to be almost... fascinated... by him, and this made him very suspicious. The only time he inspired fascination it was the same kind inspired by cobras: a 'too terrified to look away' type of fascination. But the children, particularly the older children, seemed quite interested in what he had to say today.
The only other time the school had been this cheerfully interested in him was when a misguided group of sixth years had come to the idiotic conclusion that he would be far more cheerful if he was made to feel liked, and they'd arranged a surprise birthday party for him. When they had jumped out and yelled surprise he'd been so wound up by the suspicious attentions that he'd put three of the students into the hospital wing, and the school had never been able to use the spare duelling room on the fourth floor again. The incident was legendary, and no student would be so foolhardy as to attempt to curry his favour in that, or any similar way, again.
So it had to be a practical joke. He wondered what awful resolution was waiting in store for him, and started mentally plotting possible revenges on the person or persons responsible.
He took his lunch break in the staff room, in a pleasantly warm sunny spot by his favourite window, sipping his tea and munching a few sandwiches - and surreptitiously watching Hagrid chasing something fanged and feathered around the grounds - rather than face the Great Hall again. It was nothing but avoiding the problem, but Snape felt he had no choice but to ignore whatever was happening until it played itself out. Hagrid paused in his pursuit to wipe perspiration from his brow, then looked up and gave Snape a bright wave. Snape started to wave back then caught himself, just giving Hagrid a nod instead. Such familiar behaviour was unacceptable, as far as Snape was concerned, outside of their chambers, even though Hagrid never made any secret to anyone of the fact they were in a relationship. In fact, Hagrid was even taller these days, as he went about his business puffed up with pride that he'd managed to create an alliance with Snape. It seemed Hagrid had some inflated idea of Snape's station. Something that Snape would have to dissuade him of sometime in the future. But not too soon.
Hagrid had just caught whatever that thing was and was hauling it back off to his stables, when the door behind Snape opened. Snape stood up, prepared to leave the quiet room for whomever wanted it, not wanting another of these odd confrontations.
"Sprout," he nodded sharply to the round dumpling of a woman who bustled in, surrounded by a foggy perfume of exotic manures, leaving filthy footprints behind her.
She smiled brightly, a large smear of dirt across her forehead where she'd wiped her hair from her eyes. "Hello, Severus, you're looking well today."
He looked her in the eyes, but saw no attempt at deception or untoward humour, and merely grunted in reply.
Professor Sprout looked somewhat taken aback by his study, and stepped around him into the room, flopping down onto a chair and putting her dirty boots up onto a poof with a sigh of relief, grabbing at the cup of tea that appeared beside her and slurping loudly.
Snape had the door open and was almost gone when her voice floated back to him...
"I never realised what a magnificent arse you have, Severus."
He jumped around to face her, body stiff with indignation, but his reply was cut short at the look of surprise on her face. Her hand was covering her mouth, and her eyebrows were up in her hairline. She appeared completely horrified at her own presumption.
"Oh, I am sorry, Severus, I didn't mean... I mean, you do, but I shouldn't have, oh..." she mumbled to a close and hunched down in her chair, obviously trying to make herself small and insignificant. Considering she was almost as wide as she was tall, this had the effect of watching a small round toadstool implode.
He spun on his heel and stormed from the room, robes billowing, aware of the heat in his cheeks that would give him an undignified blush. He scowled mightily to make it appear he was red with anger instead. He'd always hated the fact his skin gave away his mood, but he had at least learned to disguise his state of mind with an all-purpose expression of fury.
"Severus?" Professor Sprout was bustling down the corridor behind him, calling querulously, "Severus? I must speak to you!"
He sped up, outstriding her little legs with ease, if he could get back to his office, he could start to try and find out what charm or spell had been used, and reverse its effects. He had to get Lupin's potion ready for the evening - it had been brewing, and merely needed to be decanted - and the last thing he wanted to deal with was an amorous werewolf.
The door to his office slammed against the wall, and he smacked it again as it bounced back at him. It hit the wall a second time, the clang satisfyingly loud. He stopped short though, as he entered the room, his mouth dropped open at the sight of Madam Hooch, leaning against his desk. She still had on her robes, but had posed herself, leaning back, one heel hooked against the edge of the desk so that her robes fell open in the front, revealing long, muscular legs bare of everything bar fine silken stockings and lacy garter belts. She posed, a little awkward in her attempted seductive pose, and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
"Severus," she purred, and stood up, slinking toward him. Her robes fell to the floor, and she was wearing little underneath but a tiny school uniform, the skirt and white blouse far too small. She pulled off the Slytherin tie as she got closer, and hooked it around his neck, staring up at him through the bare inch of height that separated them. She used the tie to pull his head down toward her, and whispered in his ear, "I can't stop thinking about you. How you looked this morning."
"Yes, your reaction was on my mind, too," he murmured. He wondered how he could get out of this without hurting her feelings too much. She was obviously bewitched, and she could really hurt him when she came out of it. She had before, she'd taught him to respect her the hard way. Her lessons involved many lingering bruises. Of course, the other issue he was facing was those legs. She'd wrapped one around him now, and it was clad in silken stockings. He wondered if Hagrid would consider him terribly unfaithful if he just touched them, a little bit.
"Severus. Severus, even your name is sexy, Severus," she whispered, biting his ear lobe gently.
"Finite Incantatum!" he said, swishing and flicking his wand at her.
"I'm under no spell, Severus, you sexy, sexy man," she said, her voice low and sultry. "I've just finally realised what I've been missing out on all this time."
"Xiamora," he tried to untangle her arms from around his neck, as she attempted to comb his hair, "Try to remember what you felt about me yesterday."
"Yesterday, I thought you were a very impressive man, and a good and loyal friend."
"You weren't trying to jump my bones yesterday, though."
"I was blind, Severus. I wasn't paying attention, but now I am." She looked hurt as he took her hands in his, holding her away.
"You've been bespelled, Xiamora. This isn't you speaking."
"Then who is?" she laughed, her voice artificially flirty.
He led her to the door, the way she tried to entwine herself with him made it feel like they were doing some complicated, sensual dance. "We'll talk tomorrow, Xiamora. And when I find out who is responsible, you will have my permission to kill them."
"I can turn you to women, Severus! You have no idea just how good I am! I'll make you forget Hagrid!"
He slammed the door on her protests, narrowly avoiding her fingers, and told himself she was under a spell, and that he wasn't truly justified in killing her for that last comment. He'd just grabbed her discarded robes, wondering whether he dared open the door and hurl them at her, or whether he should just let her walk away dressed as she was, when someone started pounding at the door. Grumbling under his breath, he picked up the little glass cup that would let him see who was on the other side. If it was Hooch again, he would take no responsibility for the necessity of hexing her.
He peered through the glass, it was Sprout this time. "What is it?" he shouted through the door, not daring to open it.
"I have something to give you, Severus," she said, holding up a box to his approximate eye level.
Opening the door a crack, he peered warily at her, "What do you want?"
"I have to give you these," she again showed him the box.
"Is it important?" he stepped back as she bustled past him.
"I... I wanted to apologise for what I said earlier. About you having a magnificent-"
"Yes, yes," he interrupted. "No need. You can go."
"I brought you some of my favourite plants, Severus. A few cuttings from my private stocks."
"I said, there's no need," his grip on his temper, always tenuous at best, was all but gone and his imperfect grasp on not offending his co-workers was slipping ever further.
"Some hearts ease," she continued, putting little pots on his desk, "A wonderful little fogging palm, quite valuable, I think you'll find. A nice healthy marijuana plant, you can grow this in your own private garden. Some gillyweed, a spikey moon popper, a rosenbloom - these only flower every 700 years, you know. I've been looking forward to seeing this one flower, but I thought you could do with a little more joy in your life, so I'm going to give it to you. And also-"
He cut her off again, "This really isn't necessary. I appreciate the gift, but really, you don't need to-"
"But I did have a favour to ask of you, Severus," she said, turning towards him, her eyes large in her round, dirty face.
"What?" he frowned, suspicious of her motives.
"I need a wizard's help, Severus. It's a big ask, I know, and usually Dumbledore is the one who assists me. As the most powerful wizard alive, he makes the most powerful mandrakes possible. His seed gives them a strength no other wizard can achieve."
"You want me to do that?" Snape squeaked, then coughed to clear his throat. A mandrake was created by the spilled seed of a hanged wizard, and certainly some wizards seemed to make the sacrifice of seeding many mandrakes. In fact, it seemed to Snape, that for some wizards, mandrakes were simply an excuse to indulge in autoerotic asphyxiation, but it certainly was not something he had ever desired to do himself. He was more than happy to simply benefit from the harvest Sprout got from Dumbledore every year instead.
"You are a very powerful wizard, Severus," she said, looking up at him, one of her chubby, grubby, hard working hands delicately placed on his chest, leaving a dirty handprint. "With your intelligence and power, they would make a wonderful crop."
"Ah, ahem, Professor Sprout," he stumbled, "It's not that I don't, I mean, I know we have to, but I don't-"
"I'll help you," she fluttered her eye lashes, her round cheeks pinkening, "I am perfectly happy to... lend a hand... or anything else you might require," she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, pressing her enormously ample bosom against him.
"No!" he yelped, "You plant obsessed woman! I am not one of your pollination experiments!"
"Oh, Severus, I would love to pollinate with you!" she threw her hands up as if he'd extended an invitation.
"Let's light up a herbal cigarette and relax, Severus, I'll draw you a bath, just you and me-"
"No baths, no cigarettes, no me, Sprout! You have to go."
"But Severus, you are so lovely! I can make you happy, I know I can! All you need is a real woman to show you true love! You're wasting yourself on a man, wasting yourself!" she was trying to put her arms around him, and he was squirming like a cut snake, trying to escape her grasp without causing her injury.
He finally squirmed around behind her, grabbed her around the middle, and hauled her to the door. "Tomorrow, Professor," he huffed, she was very strong and very determined to grasp him, "we'll talk tomorrow." He finally hauled her out of the door, and into the waiting arms of Professor Lupin, who had been standing, one hand raised to knock.
Lupin caught her, setting her on her feet. "Professors!" he said, looking startled.
Tucking her hair behind her ears in an attempt to recover her dignity, Professor Sprout nodded hello to him. "Hello Remus. Severus and I were just erm, discussing the future. Our future. Anyway, Severus needs to think on things. I'll see you both tomorrow." She bustled off, a few leaves swirling in her wake.
They both watched her go, Lupin with an expression of surprise, Snape peered suspiciously around his door. He went to slam the door shut in Lupin's face, but Lupin caught it with his foot and an ouch, "I need the potion, Severus."
Snape peered at him, but could see no untoward signs of lust, and let him in.
Peering carefully at his visitor, Snape started to take the potion, which had been brewing on a carefully controlled heat, and carefully pour it into the goblet for Lupin. "I would have brought this to you, Lupin," he grumbled.
"Yes, of course, Severus," Lupin said calmly. It seemed to Snape that the more annoyed he became, the more reasonable Lupin became, which only infuriated him all the more. Sometimes Lupin's modulated reasoning seemed calculated to drive Snape to further furies.
"Here." Snape slammed the goblet onto his desk and stepped back to allow Lupin access without getting too close.
Stepping up to the desk, Lupin took the goblet, and never broke eye contact with Snape the entire time he drank it. Even though it was one of the more foul tasting potions it had been Snape's pleasure to brew - and he made sure never to improve the taste - Lupin showed no sign of disgust, his gaze level and calm.
"Thank you, Severus, I'm sure it will do the job admirably, as always," Lupin said, offering the goblet back to Snape.
Snatching it, their fingers touched, and Snape jumped back a little, but Lupin made no untoward motions. Snape wondered if Lupin had been unaffected by whatever had been done to the rest of the school.
"Good night, Lupin," Snape said, making a move to show Lupin out.
"Might I have a word with you, Severus?"
Turning to look at him suspiciously, Snape merely raised an eyebrow and waited.
"Perhaps... perhaps we could share a meal together?" Lupin said, looking almost surprised at his own audacity, yet hopeful. "Perhaps you would share a meal with me tonight?"
"You've been hexed. You do not find me attractive. You may leave." Snape decided that if one more person decided to find him irresistible this night, he was going to have to poison them.
Boldly, Lupin stepped close and put a gentle hand to Snape's face, "I have always thought you a very attractive man, Severus."
"No you haven't." Snape grabbed his arm and started to frog march Lupin to the door.
"I have. Even at school. Your intellect and skill were very impressive."
"Yes, yes," Snape said impatiently, "I'm an impressive man."
"If it hadn't been for James and Sirius, and how jealous they were of you, I would have loved to have been your friend."
Snape shut them both out of his office, and turned to go to Dumbledore. Before he tried any more anti-hex spells or any incantations, or tried any antidotes, he wanted to get the older wizard's advice, see if Dumbledore could detect any hidden trap. If he couldn't end this with finite incantatum, then it wasn't a hex, but if it was a potion, it wasn't one he recognised.
He strode briskly through the corridors, Lupin dogging his heels the entire way.
"Severus," he was puffing slightly, "now that we are grown, can't we be friends?"
"No." Snape growled.
"I'm so sorry I never stopped them from tormenting you, Severus."
"You enjoyed the show."
"Yes, I did, I'm so sorry. I should have stopped them. I should have stood up for you. I should have made them see that you were perfect and beautiful and did not deserve to be treated like that."
Snape looked over his shoulder in horror, and increased his speed until they were both nearly running through the school halls. Did he just hear 'perfect and beautiful' from Lupin?
"Go. Away." Snape almost shouted, wondering if he could be held responsible for hexing the lovelorn werewolf.
"Please forgive me! I'm not worthy of your attention, Severus, I know that, but if you could just give me a second chance, I will do anything to make you forgive me. I love-"
"Stupify!" Snape was sure he could be forgiven for letting Lupin hit the floor with a loud thud in the middle of the corridor and all but ran to the headmaster's office.
He gave the password and ascended to Dumbledore's rooms, passing Flitwick in the anteroom. The small professor waved cheerfully, "Wait your turn, Severus," he said, "I'm just here to get my latest charms journals back from the Headmaster. He keeps borrowing them before I have a chance to read them first! He'll be back with them in a minute."
Snape ignored him, and flopped down into one of the Headmaster's chairs, waiting for him to return.
Flitwick bustled over with a bowl of sweets, and offered one to Snape, who ignored him completely.
Snape turned and eyed him warily, wondering if whatever it was had affected the diminutive professor as well, almost certain that it had. "What?"
"How do you get your hair to shine like that? Mine just stands on end all the time, but your hair shines like the moon on a midnight pool."
"Oh, that's enough!" Snape stood up, wand at the ready, but was spared further annoyance by the appearance of Dumbledore, who gave a handful of magazines to Professor Flitwick and ushered him out of the door, the diminutive professor complaining loudly the entire time.
"Hello, Severus," Dumbledore turned his attention back to Snape. "You're looking-"
"I'm looking well, I know, I've been hearing it all day. That's what I've come to see you about."
"Actually, I was going to say handsome. You're looking very handsome today. In fact," Dumbledore stood back a little, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "If I was only a hundred years younger, I might make a play for you. I've always thought you were a fine looking young man, but today you look... almost irresistibly sexy!"
There was nothing Snape could think to say, he just stood with his mouth open and gawped at the Headmaster in horror.
"Anyway, my door boy, I shouldn't say such things to my staff. I'm a wicked old man," Dumbledore put a hand on Snape's shoulder, "I probably deserve a good spanking for that. Perhaps you should put me over your knee later." He winked outrageously at Snape, then moved in close. "What can I do for you, Severus, why have you come to see me?"
The headmaster's outrageous flirting almost sent Snape's brain into a horrified overload, but he recovered to snarl, "You're flirting with me, everyone's flirting with me. Everyone's saying I'm handsome or looking well or have nice hair. I want to know what's going on. Is this someone's idea of a joke or has someone put some sort of love charm on me? I want to know what's going on before I start hexing the next person to tell me how sexy I am!"
"But you are sexy, my young friend," Dumbledore almost purred at him, eyes too bright. "You are a very attractive person. In fact, I wish it was winter, so I could wear those gorgeously long legs of yours as a scarf."
Snape jumped backwards, and scuttled away, getting his wand ready.
"Wait," Dumbledore, waved a hand and a mirror appeared, which he offered to Snape. "Look for yourself."
Peering at himself in the elaborate mirror, Snape growled, "This is enchanted! What use is this?" and tried to hand it back.
"No no, Severus, it's nothing more than an ordinary mirror, completely mundane. Look!"
Snape looked into the glass. Normally he avoided his own reflection. The truth of the many taunts he'd received over his life was the only thing he ever saw looking back at him. He was an ugly, greasy, big-nosed git, and he knew it. But that wasn't what this mirror was telling him.
Instead of his usual scowling, hook-nosed visage, he looked... nice. He did look well. His hair did gleam like the moon on a midnight pool.
He sneaked a look at Dumbledore who merely shrugged and grinned.
Snape studied himself again. Where his nose had been crooked and beak-like, now it appeared aquiline and aristocratic. Where his skin had been a diseased sort of yellow, it now had an almost exotic cast, enhanced by his eyes, which were no longer black and soulless, but deeply mysterious and glowing with intelligence and insight.
He put up one hand, which he noted was no longer claw-like but now delicate, yet elegant, and traced his lips, which seemed to Snape to have become oddly full and sensuous. There was no denying, it was a very attractive face that was staring back at him.
"I don't know, Severus. It's a spell of some sort, but obviously not intended to do you harm. The odd thing is, nothing has changed."
"What do you mean? I've never looked like that!"
"Look again, Severus, nothing has changed. It's the same old you."
Again, Snape studied his reflection. And the Headmaster was right; there was nothing truly different. His hair was still in need of a wash, but the grease seemed only to make it shiny. His nose was still big, but it now seemed to suit his face. There was nothing at all different, and yet a completely different man was looking back at him. Snape thought, as he stared at the handsome, intelligent face in the mirror, that this was a face that deserved love. This was a man who was loveable, and desirable, who would give a lover his all. This was someone who would always be interesting, always be exciting.
"I'll have to end it," Snape said, almost regretting the necessity. "Who knows why this charm was put in place."
"I wonder..." Dumbledore trailed off, looking thoughtful, tugging his beard absentmindedly.
"You wonder what?" Snape pinned him with a glare.
"There is one here, at Hogwarts, who has always seen you like this. Maybe he...?" Dumbledore let the thought rest, and titled his head slightly, looking like nothing more than a puzzled old dog.
"Hagrid?" Snape wondered, his mind racing. Last night, it had happened last night whatever it was. He tried to remember what they'd said and done, if Hagrid had taken the chance to put a charm on him. Not that Hagrid would dare. He remembered the magic that surrounded them as they'd made love, the words Hagrid had said...
"You've remembered something?"
"If you'll excuse me, I think I need to have a word with Hagrid."
Everyone seemed to want to look at him as he strode through the halls. Every head turned. Faces that would normally quail in fear or glower with hatred or twist with disgust seemed suddenly open and friendly and interested. Snape hated it. He was used to being hated. He did not like being liked. People didn't like him, and he liked it like that. He glared at them all, snarled and hissed at anyone who tried to catch his attention, but they all seemed to like it. Young girls tittered happily if he snapped angrily at their idiocy, as if he were bestowing some grace upon them. Gryffinndors didn't even seem to mind when he took house points, taking his abuse with good humour.
It was utterly infuriating.
By the time he made it to his quarters he'd managed to work himself up into a fine temper. He had a head on his fury like a foaming mug of Madam Rosmerta's best butterbeer. He stalked the room, pacing and muttering. He knew Hagrid had meant no harm, but it didn't mean he shouldn't feel the sharp edge of Snape's tongue for causing this level of embarrassment.
Hagrid came out of Snape's bathroom, the door lintel raising itself so that he wouldn't have to duck to avoid banging his head, and shook droplets of water from his hair, looking like a large wet bear stepping out of a river. He gave Snape a huge welcoming grin as he dried his hands on a bath sheet.
"What have you done?" Snape hissed, angrily.
"What d'yeh mean?" Hagrid asked, flopping onto the bed, which groaned in protest before growing longer and wider to accommodate him.
"This!" Snape gestured sharply towards his face.
Hagrid looked merely puzzled, "I don't see-"
"What did you do? Did you do this deliberately? Was this some misguided attempt to make me popular with the rest of the school? Did you put some charm on me to make me look like this?" Snape rattled off quick fire questions, waiting for Hagrid's expression to change, waiting for the dropped eyes or blush that would give away any wrong doing on Hagrid's part, but his face remained clear.
"Look like what?" Hagrid appeared genuinely puzzled.
Snape put his rant on hold for a moment. He knew Hagrid wouldn't dare lie to him, although it wasn't unknown for the big man to do something outrageously stupid on occasion. In fact they both had a propensity for making the wrong decisions at times. Snape had to admit Hagrid had the advantage in that area, though, because where Hagrid's mistakes could be embarrassing at times, Snape's were usually life destroying.
Patiently, enunciating each word carefully, Snape said, "Last night, you said the whole world should see me as you do."
"Praps. I say a lot o' things in the heat of passion, yeh know that, Sev," Hagrid grinned, a flash of bright white teeth. He grabbed Snape's hips as he paced past and pulled him in closer, rubbing his thumbs over Snape's hipbones. "Don't mean I remember all o' them once I come teh my senses later on, o' course. I dare say I were telling yeh how gorgeous and sexy you are."
"The problem is, now everyone is saying those exact things."
"Prob'ly because it's true."
"No it isn't. People are saying I'm handsome or that..." He couldn't even say out loud the things he had been told today. "That, well things that are not true. I believe you have, either inadvertently or by design, put a charm on me to make me appear desirable."
"Yeh are desirable!" Hagrid pulled him in a little closer and planted a firm kiss in the middle of Snape's chest.
"No, I am not. Not to other people. You've changed my appearance somehow."
"I haven't done any such thing."
"You charmed me!"
"You did something, last night something changed." Snape ground his teeth, trying to keep his temper leashed. There was no point in losing it with Hagrid, who would only burst into tears or stomp off into the forest. Fighting with Hagrid was entirely unsatisfying. He tried again, trying patiently to explain: "People are seeing me differently. I need to find exactly out what so I can safely reverse the charm."
"Yer the one who has teh sleep with his wand under his pillow. All the magic we create together has teh go somewhere, I suppose."
"Wand under my...?" Snape trailed off. He threaded his hands in Hagrid's hair and scratched his scalp absentmindedly while Hagrid grumbled happily.
"Well, it's one explanation if something odd has happened, ain't it?" Hagrid said, sounding altogether too content.
"Something very definitely has happened," Snape snapped. "I don't understand why you refuse to acknowledge it."
"I don't see anything diff'rent, Sev'rus," Hagrid said, reaching around to pat Snape's bum soothingly. "No diff'rent teh any other day. Yeh look as lovely as yeh always do. I can't see that yeh've been charmed. Maybe those that were telling yeh that were pulling yer leg. Teh me yeh look just as beautiful as yeh do every day."
"You are a fool of a man," Snape tried to repress a smirk.
"That may be so so, but yeh can't fault my excellent taste!"
Snape could, but he let himself be tumbled onto the bed and thoroughly tasted, nonetheless.
Hagrid unwrapped him like a birthday present, devouring him from the neck down, his tongue eagerly following each tiny button as he popped it open. He licked and chewed at Snape's nipples with all the hunger he would normally use on his favourite stoat sandwich, slurping until they rose up into hard little nubs under his tongue.
"Wait, Hagrid, you have to undo whatever you did."
"I didn't charm yeh," Hagrid's voice was muffled around his mouthful of nipple.
It was obvious Hagrid's attention was fading fast, the further down Snape's torso he got, the less likely it was Snape was going to get an intelligent answer out of him, nor even be able to form an intelligent question. Hagrid had a way with his tongue that drove Snape from all sense and reason.
"What, oh, that's nice, what exactly did you say...?" Snape whispered, losing his voice as Hagrid found a delicate hip bone and set about making sure it tasted he same as it had the night before.
"I jus' said I wished that everyone could see yeh as I do," his voice was muffled as he managed to get Snape's thighs apart to explore the very tender skin there.
"A wish! You wished it!" Snape sat up suddenly, using Hagrid's unruly hair to haul himself upright. "No wonder I couldn't get rid of it as a misdirected charm, it wasn't a charm, it was a wish! You have to unwish it!"
"Unwish what? Severus, the problem here, apart from the fact yer putting me off me stroke, is that I don't know what yer talking about!"
"You have to wish me back to being ugly."
"Yeh were never ugly, Severus," Hagrid murmered, his lips kissing a soft whiskery path down towards Snape's knee, "I've told yeh that many times."
"All right, all right. You have to wish me back to how I was yesterday."
"But I told yeh, yeh look jus' the same!"
"I am going to hex you in a minute, Hagrid, if you don't spit that out and pay attention!"
"What?" Hagrid looked up, just starting to get grumpy that his feast was being interrupted. He tweaked lazily at the silky black hairs that decorated Snape's groin.
"All right, you have to wish that everything was the same as yesterday. You have to unwish that people see me as you do."
"Why? I don't see why other people can't see you as lovely as yeh are, Severus," he grinned, a flash of white teeth in his wild black beard, and started again with the licking and kisses that made concentration so difficult.
"Because, if you don't, they are going to continue to court me."
"Court you?" Hagrid looked up, eyes narrowing. Finally Snape had found a way to get through to him.
"Yes, Sprout is going to continue to give me highly illegal gifts. Lupin is going to continue to declare his undying love for me, Dumbledore is going to continue to request spankings, and Hooch is going to turn up here in her unseemly lingerie at the most inappropriate times. Now, Hagrid, how do you feel about that?"
"Is yer wand under yer pillow?" Hagrid said, a look of determination in his beetle black eyes.
Snape grabbed it from the robes that were now scattered over his bed, and stuffed it back under there, "It is now."
"Right then," Hagrid grabbed Snape's legs and pushed them back so that his ankles were near his ears, "Grab yer lubrication potion, Severus, my little darling, and let's get this thing unwished!"
For some reason Hagrid didn't seem to think his creatures would die without their early morning muck out and breakfast. He swore to Snape, who was rubbing at the ache in his lower back, that just this once they would survive his walking Snape to breakfast.
Bob had been his usual attentive self. Tea had been delivered, along with an expression of disappointment, but no offer of help with bathing.
Hagrid had kept a watchful eye on the slightly confused house elf though, and Snape wasn't sure if they had successfully unwished things or not.
His own mirror, a gift from Dumbledore, was no help. It had been charmed years ago to catcall messages of appreciation at Snape whenever he tried to use it, so it would be no good whatsoever at letting them know if Snape was now free of the unexpected results of Hagrid's well meaning wish.
When they arrived at the Great Hall, every head turned. All talk stopped, and gasps of excitement took the place of the student's usual noisy bustle of conversation. "He's here," he heard them whisper as he swept into the room, Hagrid following like an enormous bodyguard.
He sat at the table and looked at his fellow teachers, making sure to look each in the eye. He was immensely gratified, and intensely relieved to see their looks of confusion. The students were whispering, and he was sure it was disappointment. He hoped it was disappointment. By the end of breakfast, the noise in the hall was back to its usual raucous levels, and no one was paying him any more attention.
He felt Hagrid's thigh pressed against his own, and reached down, giving it a squeeze. Hagrid slipped a little bit more fried bread onto his plate, trying to feed him up a little, and Snape cut it into tiny pieces, consuming them delicately with bits of scrambled egg.
Hooch was the first to leave, she had an early practice session to supervise. As she passed behind him, she leaned in to whisper, "Sorry about yesterday, Severus, I got a little carried away."
He nodded and smiled tightly at her, and she briskly strode away. It appeared, as far as she was concerned, the entire episode was over. He was glad she held no embarrassment for her behaviour, but he suspected it would take an awful lot more than that to embarrass her.
Sprout, on the other hand, bustled by quickly, her face red, obviously avoiding him. He sighed inwardly. He rather liked the Herbology professor, she was as devoted to her subject as he was to his, and he felt their mutual professionalism gave them a common ground. He could only hope she'd get over it quickly.
When Hagrid had finally managed to put away enough food to feed all of Hufflepuff House, they left the table together.
"Severus?" It was Lupin, calling out somewhat timorously.
Snape didn't answer, but stopped to stare, aware of Hagrid hovering closely beside him.
"I do apologise for ... Yes. Well, anyway. I'm sure that whatever happened yesterday was ..." Lupin faded out, and they stood there in silence for a few moments. Snape had no intention of breaking it and putting Lupin at his ease. "I bought you a gift, this morning. I had it owled in. I don't know... I really have no idea why... You may as well have it." Lupin shoved the packaged into Snape's hands. "I... I have classes to teach. Have a good day."
They stood and watched him go.
"Poor Professor Lupin," Hagrid said, a hand on Snape's shoulder. "D'yeh think we should explain teh him?"
"I'm sure he'll work it out. He's no fool. Although I'm sure he's feeling very foolish right about now," Snape said, hiding the package in his robes.
"I see you worked everything out, then? Happy ending all round?" Dumbledore gave them a bright and cheery grin.
"Yes, Headmaster, finally."
"It were my fault, Headmaster," Hagrid said, abashedly, "Didn't mean any harm, just thought, well, yeh know, I think Severus is..."
"Beautiful, yes, Hagrid. And," Dumbledore looked at Snape and winked broadly. "he is a very sexy man, indeed. You are a very lucky person, Hagrid, to have such a gorgeous creature in your bed."
Snape stepped back, wondering in a panic if perhaps the anti-wish hadn't quite taken a hold, and grabbed at Hagrid's coat.
"Ah," said Dumbledore, wistfully, as he left them to return to his office, "If only I was a hundred years younger."