Beta reading: Thank you to Calemiri – any probable errors are mostly likely my own fault for ignoring her advice, and Lena for picking up a few other odd bits.

Notes: Xiamora vs Rolanda. Two possible names given as Hooch’s real first name. I prefer Xiamora, but I can’t remember the source.

-oo0oo-

"Bad day?" Snape handed one of his thin, black cigarillos to Xiamora as she sat beside him on the stone bench. He could positively hear her teeth grinding from across the few inches that separated them.

"First years can’t fly."

"I know. So?"

"So they think they can. They’ve had children’s brooms with training bristles and their father’s held the handle for them while they chuffed along a few feet off the ground, so suddenly they think they’re aerial daredevils!"

"Ah yes." Snape didn’t want to say too much in case her evident angry frustration turned against him. He could tell she had a good solid rant building up.

"So I’ve had two first year injuries today! They’re so busy showing off they never think what could happen once they’re 50 feet in the air and realise daddy isn’t there to catch them anymore!"

"Awful," Snape nodded sagely. He knew how to deal with ranting. Sound like he was listening, inject a non-committal noise now and then, and let her go.

"It wouldn’t be so bad if every now and then the children could produce someone like Harry Potter!"

"Ah yes, the Potter boy," a muscle jumped in Snape’s cheek but he said nothing. Hooch was the only other smoker amongst the teachers and he didn’t want to alienate his occasional after school companion.

"But someone like that only comes along every century or two."

"Shame," Snape was sure Slytherin House could produce a few more eventually.

"And then I have to deal with Poppy yelling at me. As if I don’t care when they get injured!"

"Terrible."

"I care! When they break something everyone loses valuable training time!"

"Inconsiderate brats."

"And then I get howlers from the parents. Today one arrived while I was rethatching some of the more sensitive brooms, and it startled them! I had twigs everywhere!"

"Tsk."

"And look!" She showed him the palm of her hand. "Splinters!"

"Oh dear." He looked, seeing nothing more than red patches.

"Well, I did have... I’ve picked them out now."

"At least that’s something."

"Sometimes I can really see why you enjoy terrorizing the little buggers so much."

"It helps."

She drew deeply on the cigarillo and let out a deep breath, visibly deflating as she let go of the petty anger and annoyances of the day.

"Say something nice to me, Severus."

"I beg your pardon?" Snape flicked his butt into the air where it vanished in a sprinkle of multicolored sparks.

"I know it’s not your speciality, but I’ve had a rotten day and I need cheering up, so say something nice to me."

Snape thought for a long moment. Saying something nice most definitely was not one of his many skills. What did one say to a woman? It would have to be something personal, as well as something that applied only to her, or she’d know that it wouldn’t mean anything and she’d be hurt. Nothing to do with flying, that would give her an in to another rant about incompetents. He struggled mentally, trying to think of something particular to Xiamora, something flattering, something feminine.

"You’ve got great tits!" he finally said, earnestly.

She looked at him, face blank, apparently stunned.

He shrugged and considered another cigarillo.

"When did you see my tits?"

"Oh years ago. I walked in on you in the changing rooms once."

Her face screwed up in concentration, apparently trying to remember. He guessed that so many people walked in on her in the changing rooms that it wasn’t a noteworthy event, "That was many, many years ago, Severus. You remembered?"

"I’d remember tits like that."

She threw back her head and laughed, and he smothered his own smile, disguising it behind pretending to wipe his mouth.

"Since when do you notice tits, Severus?"

"I notice!"

"You’re queerer than a three galleon coin!"

"Yours are particularly nice, that’s all."

"You don’t think they’re a bit small?" she said looking down at the tits in question. They were pretty small, typical sports woman bosoms, he guessed. Nothing like the giant norks on Sprout.

"Come on, Xiamora. Such depreciation? It doesn’t suit you."

"True," she shrugged.

"At least it cheered you up."

"It did. Not what I was expecting, but yes. It’s been a long time since someone’s admired my boobs. Shame it’s from someone who’s a beater, not a chaser, but I’ll take what I can get."

They were quiet for a while, and she offered him one of the fat cigars she preferred. He knew they were pricey, she went to a lot of trouble to get them from some muggle shop in London. So he guessed he’d really cheered her up. He rolled it between his fingers and inhaled the rich tobacco scent.

"Have you ever been with a woman, Severus?" she asked.

"No, never."

"Never wanted to? I mean, are you totally queer? Or just never found a woman who would?"

"Bit of both, I suppose. I’m somewhat rebarbative for members of both sexes."

"If you bathed more often, you’d probably get a shag now and then."

"With whom? I don’t believe there’s another robe lifter of legal age within 100 miles of Hogwarts."

"Good point."

They were quiet for a little while longer, Hooch staring at the forest that came close to this side of the castle, Snape studying the ground in front of them. He raised his head slightly when she spoke again.

"Fancy a fuck?"

He put the unlit cigar in a pocket in his robe and turned to stare at her. He continued to stare until she got up and leaned against the castle wall, one hand taking her weight against the warm stone, the other hand on her hip. She crossed her legs at the ankle and canted a hip out, in a parody of a seductive pose. He was amazed she managed to keep a straight face as she pouted slightly and batted her eyelids.

He masked his surprise. "Been a while?"

"A few years," she said, then dropped her head. "Over a decade."

Thinking about it, how this could ruin his reputation, his professional standing, their casual friendship, and what an awful mess he could make of things, he scuffed the ground a little with his boot. "Yes, all right." He stood up as she straightened away from the wall, liking the way she smiled broadly and turned to trot briskly into the darkness of the castle.

"We’ll go up to my rooms, Severus. I’m not going down into that dank hole you call a home."

"Whatever makes you happy, dear."

She shot him a dirty look over her shoulder.

"What? I’m being nice! You wanted nice, right?"

"I don’t trust you when you’re nice, Snape," she grinned.

"I didn’t think you trusted men at all, to be honest," he said, watching her arse as she went up the stairs. Far more muscular than his own, almost as round and high as a man’s from all the exercise she got. Not bad. For a woman.

"It’s been too long, I’m not fussy. Anyway, most of the time you’re like a bitch with PMT, Severus. And with that hair, you could pass as a woman."

"Perhaps. But this nose? This nose is all man."

Again she laughed and grabbed his hand, dragging him into her room. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed up against him.

"You’re sure, Xiamora?" He knew it was probably too late to ask, but he felt he should at least be seen to make the effort. "Have you been with a man before?"

"Unlike yourself, I decided I needed some empirical data before committing myself to a way of life. So yes, I’ve been with a man before."

"Why do I get the impression ‘man’ singular, is not the right term?"

"I’ve ridden a few broomsticks in my time, that’s all you need to know. I just generally prefer a muffler to a niffler. Want to see my tits again?"

"I’d love to."

She dropped her robes and unbuttoned quickly, making no attempt at seduction, until her clothes dropped down from her waist like the skin from a half-peeled banana. Hands on hips, she jutted her chest forward, "Well?"

He cupped them, lifted, fondled, and settled in for a good solid grope. "Very nice, very nice indeed." And they were. Small, perky, sun-seekers with little pink nipples that hardened against his fingers into tight puckers.

"Yes, that’s something I like about women as well," she said, watching his ministrations. "Men seem so... unfinished around and about their chesty areas." She shoved him off, and flicked the last few buttons until her clothes lay in a pile on the floor and stepped out of them.

"Leave the boots on," he said, and smirked at her, kneeling in front of her.

"You did that easily," she smirked back, wrapped a hand around the back of his head and pulling him forward. "Why do I get the impression you’ve gone down on your knees a few times before, hm?"

He had just the perfect sarcastic comment, but she smothered it with her thighs and he concentrated on the task at hand. Or at face, as the case may be. "Things seem so much more complicated than I expected," he said, voice muffled.

"Quiet, pay attention to what you’re doing."

He pulled back a little to look up at her. "It’s not quidditch, I’m not going to fall off!"

"Five points from Slytherin for arsing about," she snapped and pushed him back.

He muffled a chuckle in her muff, and started to explore. The smell and taste were different, unusual, but not unpleasant, and he noted with satisfaction that she was soon sighing and grinding a little against his face. This felt far more lewd than sucking a man’s cock, so much more alien and strange... he could feel his own arousal rising fast, partially from the appreciative noises she was making, and partially from the downright reprobate feelings he was getting. He felt, all of a sudden, like an incorrigible sixth year prefect, doing wicked things with his quidditch teacher.

"Use your nose!" she commanded, so he did, grunting a little in amusement as she pushed her tiny pink pea of a clit up and down the bridge, and he pushed back, giving her the sharp edge where she seemed to need it most.

"What’s this thing?" he said, stopping to pull out an unexpected fold of skin.

"Who cares, just lick it."

And he did, using the strength of his tongue and jaw until her knees were digging painfully against his abdomen and he thought she was going to smother him, grinding against him and uttering deep guttural moans, until she was juicy and frantic and he grabbed her buttocks to hold her up as she squeaked and shuddered and the grinding slowed down. He obeyed her ‘don’t stop’ and dug his fingers into her muscles until she finally relaxed and moved away.

"That was faster than I expected. I thought you women took a long time."

"‘You Women’ probably haven’t been celibate as long as I have," she leaned forward, hands on her thighs, catching her breath, and he admired the strength in her body. Her stomach was flat, barely a wrinkle or line to show that she was nearing forty, older than himself by a couple of years. Ropy muscles corded her arms, and thick slabs of muscle covered her ribs and décolletage.

He reached up and threaded his fingers through the fluff at the junction of her large thighs and gave it a sharp tug. She didn’t even rock slightly. "You’d have made an impressive man," he mused.

She put a hand on his forehead and pushed him sharply backward so that he rolled onto the floor. "Pah! Who wants to be that weak?" She leapt up onto the bed and jumped, straight legged, looking like she was doing some kind of old fashioned exercise, breasts bouncing as if they were giving directions. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get your kit off!"

Snape shed a few layers, kicked them to one side, shed a few more. Getting down to the bottom layer, "Don’t laugh," he glared warningly.

"I won’t," she smiled broadly and lay down, striking another ‘seductive’ pose. She simpered, "Come and get me, big boy..."

Snape crawled up the bed and hovered over her.

"Oh, you are a big boy, aren’t you!" She hefted him in one strong hand, giving him a squeeze as if testing the strength of a broomstick. "Mind you, that could be because the rest of you is so bloody skinny it just makes it look bigger."

"Shut up, you said you wouldn’t laugh. And don’t squeeze so hard, you’ll break it."

"At least it looks like you won’t have any trouble performing with a woman."

"I never have trouble performing! A good Slytherin can rise to any occasion."

"A ‘good Slytherin’? Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron? Let’s just see how good you are!"

She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him down, and he lay on top of her, trying without using his hands to get the right angle.

"Higher," she instructed, using her heels to guide him until the head of his prick started to slide in. "How does that feel?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"Good. Different," he paused, hands braced either side of her head, cataloguing the differences. "No sphincter, so it’s a lot easier. Nice not to have to mess around with lubrication charms. Looser, though."

"Looser? Snape, I’ll give you a piece of advice. Never tell a woman she’s loose!"

"I like the ridges though."

"Ridges? I have ridges? What do they feel like?"

"Ridgy," he grunted, all the blood having left his head and leaving him unable to give a more sensible answer. "Hot."

Her hands gripped his buttocks so hard, he thought he’d have fingerprint sized bruises all over them by morning, "Tilt your hips forward so you’re... there... yes..." She seemed to be just as muscular inside as she was out, and his prick felt like a cow’s teat being milked for every last drop.

He started to move, keeping the strokes long and even, putting as much pressure as he could where she directed him, watching her eyelids flutter as her focus was lost, her teeth gritted, and she barked her orders. She had to have been the most uninhibited person he could ever remember being with, and he was fascinated by her lack of prudery, and her boobs as they bounced in time with his thrusts.

It was looser, and new, and dirty, and she was easier, and faster... and as she was screaming ‘fuck me!’ he couldn’t stop, even when he realised he’d started to bang her head up against the head board, not that she seemed to mind, and he ground against her as her hands directed, trying to follow the little circular patterns she was demanding that threw him off his rhythm ever so slightly but it was still way too fast and he grunted half in disappointment and half in bliss as she clawed down his back with her short sharp nails and he pounded his last, rabbit-like thrusts into her surprisingly welcoming body.

"Ah... shit!"

He collapsed on her, face against her neck, and gasped for breath.

"I take it I’m not the only one for whom it’s been a long time?" she said archly, patting his back with one hand and ruffling his hair with the other.

"Shut up," he murmured.

"That’s all right. Not bad for a virgin."

He snorted angrily, but couldn’t raise the energy to think of a witty riposte.

He slid to one side, head on her shoulder, keeping a leg and an arm draped over her, enjoying the way she kept absent-mindedly rubbing his shoulders.

"So, did you enjoy your first time with a woman?" she asked, smiling lazily, tiny wrinkles crinkling around the edges of her bright yellow eyes.

"Surprisingly good," he said, candidly, yawning deeply and fighting the desire to go straight to sleep.

"A bit fast..." she teased.

"Watch it."

"Don’t go to sleep," she poked him in the ribs. "Stay awake. Another few minutes we can go again."

"You’re going to kill me, aren’t you," he stated calmly.

"Only if you don’t want to go again," she cooed, tickling his chin. "Your face is wet."

"Funny, that."

"Oh! It’s me!" she laughed, then tipped his face up so she could lap his lips and nose clean, and he sighed happily into her face. Her breath smelt of old smokes and whisky, a little rank, but oddly soothing. When she finished, he cuddled a little closer, trying to get used to the odd curves, the hips that went out when they should have gone in, the odd bumps and dips that made it difficult to get comfortable.

"We should start a Hogwarts gay and lesbian support group," he commented idly.

"Lesbian and gay," she corrected. "Just the two of us?"

"Yes. You never know, we might get a few more join the ranks. I see myself as a charismatic figurehead."

"You’d make the children more afraid of what’s outside the closet than what’s inside."

"That too."

"What would we do? Have a two-person parade? What kind of support does the queer contingent of Hogwarts need?"

"I’ll walk around behind you holding your tits up."

"Oh, anything to get at the tits. I’m converting you, aren’t I? I’m too much woman for you!"

"Yes, you’re corrupting me, deep down in my soul. Mind you, I’d throw you over in a heart beat for some nice muggle with a big dick and wicked pecs."

"Can’t argue with that."

They both rested for a while, her arm spasmodically squeezing his shoulders now and then while he fondled the breast furthest away from himself absently.

"Hang on," she broke his reverie, "Why are you the one with your head on my chest?"

"It’s comfortable."

"You’re with a woman now! It’s the woman who sleeps with her head on the man’s chest!"

"Tough titties."

"Tough? I thought you liked them?" she smiled.

"I do, I like them very much. Indeed, when I get up the energy, I shall have another play with them."

"What is it with men? Even the queers like tits..."

"I can think of something else you might like, to... where is it..." she said thoughtfully, rummaging around in a bedside drawer, almost dislodging Snape from his comfortable perch. She came out with her wand, and he was mildly scandalised that she’d not have it on her person at all times. He supposed a quidditch witch didn’t really need one all that often.

"What are you planning?" he asked, watching her chew her lip thoughtfully.

"There’s a spell, I’ve used it on a couple of past girlfriends. You know the type, they’re queer, but they still like the feel of... you know..." then she muttered a charm, the wand twitched, writhed, and then she was holding a fat, wobbly, artificial cock in its place. It looked heavy and drooped slightly, and had retained the appearance of the wand to a certain degree: deeply veined redwood.

"What are you planning on doing with that?" Snape sat up, making sure his bottom was flat on the bed.

"I know another charm, I can attach this..." she demonstrated, "...so that it’s just like a penis! See? I now have an enormous clitoris!"

"You’re not sticking that thing in me!" Snape protested.

"Come on, Snape, I let you fuck me! I’ve always wanted to do this to a man," she sat up, putting her hands on her hips and pouted a little, the look more aggressive than appealing on her, her ‘penis’ now bobbing around like a maddened, one legged grindylow.

"I don’t care if you’ve done that with girlfriends, I don’t have a vagina and my bits are different. Things are delicate back there!"

"I’ll be careful. I’ve got a nice tub of..." she rummaged around in the drawer again, "here, a nice lubricant. One of yours, I believe," and she showed him the jar to prove it.

He sat on his hands, trying to protect himself from her eagle gaze. "The last thing I need is to end up trying to explain to Poppy just how I managed to get my arse blown off."

"It won’t go off while it’s in you, honest! I’m not a student, Severus, I have more control than that. And if you let me do that... I’ll do something nice for you."

"What?"

"I don’t know, think of something. I’ll think of something. Later. Come on..." she half ordered, half wheedled. She wiggled her shoulders so her boobs bobbled in his face, "Go on... you know you’ll like it..."

He groaned, made long-suffering noises, "You’re going to owe me for this," and got up on to all fours, turning around.

"Excellent!" she grabbed his buttocks, already bruised from her overly enthusiastic attentions, and used her knees to sharply spread his legs a little wider. Her fingers, thick with the lubricating potion, jabbed in.

"Be careful!" he snapped. "It’s been a while..."

"Yes, and I can see what you mean about tighter!" she said, happily rootling around.

"Watch your damned nails, woman! That’s not a pot of broom polish you’re sticking your fingers into!"

"Oh, you don’t half go on!" she snapped, "Here, let’s try and get you more in the mood." She reached around and gave him an awkward fondle, stroking briskly from base to tip.

"Let off, you’re too rough. I’ll do that." He slapped her hand away, and rubbed himself a little more to his own liking, but he started to lose it as soon as she leaned over and pushed in.

"Ow! Careful!" She hadn’t really caused him any discomfort, he just wanted to make a preemptive complaint, in case she did.

"Hold still, Severus, I’m trying to find your prostrate."

"Prostate! At least get the word right!"

"Prostrate, prostate, sometimes you just want to fuck them standing up! Hold still, stop squirming!"

"Ow! Watch what you’re doing."

"Oh, stop complaining, Severus. I’m not hurting you, you’re just bitching for the sake of it."

"I like bitching for the sake of it and this is just odd."

"Odd? You’re one to talk."

"Ow! All right? Just ow!"

She wiggled a bit, and he watched her nervously over his shoulder as she bit her lip, frowning in concentration. "This is..." she grunted, changing her angle a bit, "... fun!"

"Fun? Fun for whom? Ow! Not so fast! Oh..."

"Oh? Did I get it then?"

"Yes, finally. About time... oh..." He arched up as she hit the right spot once more.

"Right then, we’re off!" she grabbed his hips and made as if to jam herself in hard.

He braced himself for a rough ride, but she was surprisingly gentle now she’d got him where she wanted him, and her pace was slow and easy until he relaxed into it.

Rubbing his sides down she crooned softly to him, and he realised she was riding him like a reluctant broom.

"I’m not one of your Nimbus 2000s, you know," he complained.

"No, you’re more of a Firebolt, slim-lined and fast," she said, appreciatively.

"I’ll take that as a compliment," he said, smirking over his shoulder at her, "despite the ‘fast’ comment." He circled his hips a little, following her movements until it all started to flow a little easier. Despite what she said about not having done this before, she had a good feel for it, following his movements easily keeping up a nice smooth rhythm. He stroked himself, until he was at least half-hard and started to show her she wasn’t the only one with good strong inner muscles. How much she was feeling through her ‘prick’ he didn’t know, but she seemed to appreciate the effort, throwing back her head and moaning low and deep.

She leaned down, resting on his back, still circling her hips, one hand slipping under him to cup his balls, and whispered in his ear, "You know, there’s nowhere on a woman’s body as vulnerable as a man’s nuts?"

Snape tensed a little, but despite the slight threat of her words, her fingers were gentle, and she tickled him lightly before rubbing gently, and he found himself getting fully hard under her ministrations. It had been quite a few years since he’d been able to get hard again so soon without a little magical help.

"I’m going to fuck you hard, now, Severus," she said, her voice strained, and he braced one forearm on the bed as she started to really let herself go. He grunted as she shoved herself hard against him, the superior strength in her legs nearly knocking him flat, and only years of experience holding him in place. Her language would have shamed a southern auror, she knew more ways of using ‘cunt’, ‘fuck’, or ‘arsehole’ in casual sex talk than Snape had ever heard in his life before, and he was wildly impressed! He knew she’d been a bit of a hellion in her touring days, but now he’d have to make sure to ask her just where she’d toured. She was riding him like she still thought she was in a match against Bavaria, all she needed was a bludger to knock around and he made a silent plea for the welfare of his nuts.

A long pull in time with her strokes and he found a rhythm he enjoyed, rocking in time with her movements, happily following the guidance of her riding as she moved him as she desired. She seemed away on a broomstick somewhere, and Snape smirked quietly to himself as he realised she was very quietly calling a quidditch match under her breath. She whispered obscene versions of quaffle plays, her thighs urging him to her unseen goals, and he bit down a giggle as she changed her stroke to avoid an unseen bludger.

He pushed back against her, encouraging her passion, increasing the speed, until the sounds of sweaty flesh slapping solidly against bony buttocks, almost drowned out her game play.

"Catch the snitch," she called out, her voice high and sharp, and he sped up his own stroking.

"Catch the snitch!" her voice caught, almost choking and he felt his balls contract, smacking against his fist on the down stroke.

"Catch. The. Snitch!" The last word was caught on a squeak and she ground hard against him as he clenched his buttocks, showing off just a little of his own physical prowess as he squeezed down on her. It was mildly disconcerting to note the complete absence of ejaculation, but there was no denying the validity of her orgasm as she melted over his back like butter icing on a warm cake. He let her guide his relaxed body down onto the bed She was mentally riding him to the ground, so far as he could tell.

"Thanks, Severus," she puffed, rolling to lie beside him. "That was exactly what I needed."

"I’m lying in the wet spot," he grumbled as he turned to lie on top of her again, pressing his nose into her collarbone, shifting his feet to avoid knocking his shins against the pointy bits of her boots.

"Tough titties."

"You said-"

"Hush. Accio one of your skinny cigarettes for me."

Obeying and lighting it with a finger flick, he handed it to her after taking a drag himself.

"Not such a bad day, after all, hmm, Hooch?"

"Not such a bad day after all. Next time..." she yawned sleepily, "next time, we'll switch genders, eh?"