832A/N I could spend another half an hour writing everything I want to say in the author's note, (Thank you so much for the reviews, love all the actor choices, been listening to the playlist all week, of course I'd be honoured if someone made a fanfic of this fanfic etc. etc.) and I will, but for the moment I'll just post this in case some people east of the Atlantic are about to fall asleep but wanted to read before they do….
Róisín got up from working on her essay with a huff when she heard the knock at the door. If the twins were here to convince her to pull another trick cracker that would fly out of her hands and swat her on the head she was going to hex them.
"Professor."
She took a step back from her bedroom door, the surprise to see the potions master evident in her voice. He'd disappeared after talking to Mr. Weasley and it had gotten so late she hadn't expected him to return at all.
"Feral."
Snape wasn't taller than the twins, but he filled the doorway, his black robes fanning out around him.
She took another step back to allow him to move past her but he stayed on the landing.
"Would you like to come in, sir?"
He stepped into the room and asked, "How are you feeling?"
"Ok, thanks."
His robes smelt like woodsmoke.
Róisín closed over the door and for a moment they stood facing each other awkwardly.
His gaze fell onto her books and notes littered on the desk. "Physiological Effects of Offensive Dark Magic on the Caster," he read, his deep voice loud in the small room. "Did Lupin assign that essay title?"
Róisín felt a pang of anxiety, and made to step around him to put away her things, but he picked up her essay and she faltered, taking a step backwards.
"He asked us to choose a title within the topic of Dark Magic."
Snape pulled out the desk chair and took a seat. His eyes scanned her scroll rapidly as heat crawled up Róisín's neck. Underneath the woodsmoke he smelt really good, rich and earthy and spicy. Did wizards wear cologne?
"Erm, that's just a rough draft…" she muttered, trying to figure out how to ask him to stop reading, or how disastrous it would be if she grabbed the essay out of his hands when he asked,
"What does your note, "R.S" mean?"
"Just that I need to research that topic further in the Restricted Section."
Please don't be reading that part.
He read aloud, "The cruciatus curse mirrors the pain of the victim with pleasure in the caster." He met her eyes again. "Where did you learn that?"
"Just a book in the library."
"The main Hogwarts library?"
"Yes, sir."
He raised an eyebrow, but his eyes continued down the scroll.
It hadn't been any book, it'd been Carnal Magicks Moste Evil and Róisín had found it on a top shelf in the Restricted Section with a seeking spell for the cruciatus curse. She'd levitated it down after casting the strongest cleansing charm Professor Smith had taught her. She didn't dare bring it to Madam Pince to check out, so she'd taken her notes on the floor between the shelves.
Róisín sat on the edge of the bed, desperately uncomfortable.
"Is it incorrect, sir?"
"Is what incorrect?" He turned the scroll over to the notes and comments on the back.
"About the cruciatus," Róisín added, pronouncing the unforgivable in a half whisper.
"It's misleading," Snape replied in a matter-of-fact tone, as if they were discussing potion ingredients and not one of the most taboo subjects in wizarding culture. "The effects depend on the caster's predilections. The cruciatus can leave some wizards feeling unwell the next day, like a hangover." He tapped her third paragraph and added, "It is inaccurate to state that factions of dark wizards frequently cast torture curses on each other."
"Oh, I read that in Power and Politics, I'll change it," Róisín replied, embarrassed. She had two whole paragraphs dedicated to that point.
"You don't believe me?" Snape asked, one eyebrow quirking upwards.
Róisín's eyes darted involuntarily to his left arm and back to his face.
"Of course I do, sir, it's just, I thought it was commonly known that You-Know-Who tortured his Death Eaters."
Snape watched her carefully for a moment before replying, "After the first wizarding war, his supporters tried to justify their actions by claiming they were forced to follow him under the threat of the cruciatus, but that was rarely the case.
"The cruciatus feels like being burnt alive, like every inch of one's body is being flayed while all two hundred bones snap over and over again. Every second stretches on to infinity." Snape's voice was very low but Róisín caught every word. "It can cause the most stable, resilient minds to go insane. Most who experience it, would do anything to never have to again; they'd cut off their own limbs, or murder their whole families." He paused, and Róisín felt a frission of fear as his black eyes pinned hers. "Do you think the Dark Lord would have any followers at all if those partial to his views believed that by joining his ranks they were likely to be subjected to such horror?"
Róisín's eyes darted again to his left forearm and back.
"No, sir."
"Generally, he saves the cruciatus for his enemies and for those followers who have failed him so immensely that he cares not if he leaves them dead or insane." He put down her essay and must have seen the fear in her expression because he said, his tone gentler than before, "My apologies, I didn't come here to teach you about Dark wizards."
He looked past her and his eyes narrowed. She turned around and saw the "Purity Rises" quidditch poster.
"Oh em, they couldn't get that down, permanent sticking charm."
Snape's jaw tensed and he got up and walked around her. He placed his fingers along the edges of the poster and dragged them around the sides and corners.
"I'll return shortly." There was a snap and he was gone.
Five minutes later there was a knock at the door.
Snape stepped past her, a silver dagger in his hand. He slit the poster with it and the paper peeled off the wall, crumbling and dissolving as though it had been submerged in acid. He placed the dagger on the desk and indicated the plaque with the pure-blood extremist quote. "I can't get rid of that, not without burning down the wall."
"Oh that's ok." Róisín blushed, a little bubble of gratitude in her throat. "Thank you for the poster."
He continued glaring at the plaque, clearly trying to devise a way to destroy it.
After a few moments Róisín took a steadying breath and said, "So em, I know you're very busy…."
He turned, raising his eyebrows at her. Then he cast a tempus. It was a quarter to eleven.
"I have four hours."
"Oh." What did he have to do at three in the morning?
"Were you suggesting I get a move on?"
"No, I didn't-"
Snape snorted. "Relax Feral, it's fine." He started to undo the buttons on his jacket and Róisín pulled her jumper off despite the chill in the air. Her pyjamas were old and thin, and she shrugged her shoulders forward and brought her knees to her chest, feeling the hair raise on her arms.
He placed his jacket with his robes and used magic to undo the laces of his boots before kicking them off.
"If I do something you don't like, you will tell me," he instructed.
"Oh, yeah of course," she mumbled.
He paused with his hands at his belt, his eyes searching hers.
"Why am I not convinced?"
She blushed and looked away, her heart thumping.
With a flick of his wrist he extinguished the main candelabra and lit the two side lamps, casting the room with a warm glow. Róisín sat against the headboard, and the old bed frame compressed with a groan as he sat next to her.
He leaned towards her, placing an errant lock of hair behind her ear, causing a shiver to run down her neck. He put his large, warm hand on her knee.
"Would you do something for me?" he asked.
She nodded, heat pooling in her abdomen.
"Say "no" to me."
"Sorry?"
He moved this hand up her thigh, sending a thrill up her leg.
"Feral," he reminded firmly.
"No?"
He took his hand off her.
"Say it again," he ordered close to her ear and replaced his hand.
"But why?"
He sighed. "Because unfortunately, not only are you my student, but an exceedingly deferential one."
While she processed his words, he moved his hand upwards again, and her legs reflexively pressed together. Half way up her leg, she reached out and grabbed his bicep. It was hard with tension despite how gently he was touching her. Her pyjama bottoms were so threadbare that when his finger brushed between her legs, she felt it clearly. Reluctantly she whispered, "no."
He immediately lifted his hand from her.
"Again," he said and brought his hand to her hip and up her waist, grabbing and massaging her sides . He leant down to her ear. "Tell me "no" before I touch your chest." His deep, smooth voice was so close and his hand was touching her with such a firm pressure that Róisín battled not to squirm. She realized she was still gripping his bicep, squeezing the hard muscle so tightly it must've hurt, but Snape didn't seem to care. His hand moved up over her ribs and she tensed, anxious that he would grab her breasts as firmly as he had her waist, but his thumb rubbed feather-light over her. She exhaled as he cupped her gently, his other hand still firm on her hip.
She looked up at his face, and saw the arousal in his eyes behind his cool expression. Hiding from his dark gaze, she leant her head against his chest. The heat leaking through his shirt on her forehead felt intensely intimate, and she wondered if she rested her cheek against him would she feel his heartbeat. He rubbed a finger around her areola and it felt strange- numb and tingly. Then his thumb rubbed over her nipple, back and forth, and Róisín's whole chest began to ache, making her so needy for him it was agony. She bit her lip hard but still a whimper escaped.
He didn't let up stroking her nipple, but his other hand pushed her gently off his chest and he asked her, his voice even lower than before, "Why aren't you telling me to stop?"
"I don't want you to."
His eyes were dark and hooded and his jaw tightened almost as if he were angry.
Róisín felt her insides melt.
"Ok, but tell me to stop if you do," he muttered gruffly. "And if you can't get the words out, tap my arm." He moved on top of her, his legs on either side of hers, pressing them together and making her centre throb. He was supporting his own weight, but he still seemed big and heavy on top of her. "Lie back."
He moved down her body and lowered his face to her hip bone, which jutted out where her t-shirt ended. She thought he was going to kiss her there, which would be the first time he kissed her anywhere, except for that one, chaste kiss in the Headmaster's office, which felt like years ago. His large hands rubbed the back of her calves, stroked over the sides of her hips and buttocks and dipped down her thighs to caress where they ended at her centre, but didn't touch her there.
Suddenly, his mouth was hovering over her clit, and she could feel his hot breath through her pyjamas. She looked away, bringing her hand up to muffle her gasp. Then he placed his open mouth down on her, and she cried out, her body jerking at the sudden warmth.
His eyes darted up to her face at the sound, but whatever he saw there didn't deter him, because he hooked his fingers in her waistband and tugged downwards, trailing his open mouth over her skin as it was revealed, from below her belly button to the mound of her pelvis. Then he lifted her hips so he could drag her pyjamas off her.
Róisín felt a flood of anxiety as he kissed up her inner thigh. She'd heard that some guys only went down on girls because they wanted oral in return. Is that what Snape expected? Did he know she'd never done it before?
He must have noticed her tense because he moved up her body and asked,
"May I?"
She looked away but gave a small nod.
"Certain?" He asked, eyebrows raised in question.
Her eyes darted back to his and she hastily nodded, her heart pounding.
His hot breath was almost over her centre again when she blurted out, "It's just, I don't know if I know how to- erm, reciprocate."
"Reciprocate?" He leaned up and looked down at her with narrowed eyes. Goosebumps crept over her lower half at the loss of his warmth. "I don't expect anything from you," he stated, "regardless of what I do, and I never want you to… do something you don't want to simply to cater to my pleasure." Róisín avoided his eyes, looking at where his shirt clung to his chest. "Understood?" he asked firmly.
"Yeah, I get it. Sorry, sir."
He sighed and rolled off her, bringing his hand up to his brow.
The duvet crinkled in the quiet as Róisín pulled it up her body. She bit her lip, hard. Her eyes watered and she told herself it was from the sting. She had to stop acting as if they were a normal couple during these... sessions. He wasn't here for himself and the insinuation that he was obviously offended him. Why hadn't she just kept her mouth shut? Maybe there was another woman he was seeing who went down on him. Now he was just here to- what had Black said the other day?... "take care" of the sióg.
"If you'd prefer me not to, that's ok," Snape said, interrupting her thoughts, an uncharacteristic softness in his voice. "But don't stop me on my behalf."
Did that mean he wanted to?
Róisín's heart beat faster, but she tried to school her voice to sound calm as she replied, "Ok."
He climbed over her and moved down so he was over her centre again. He looked up at her with eyes so dark they were black and asked, "Yes?"
She nodded and he dropped his mouth onto her. The wet heat against her bare skin immediately made her buckle. He kissed and sucked before snaking his tongue down and dipping it inside her. Her head snapped back at the sensation. Then cold air hit her wetness as he brought his mouth away and a cry barely escaped her as he sucked on her inner thigh so hard it almost hurt.
Placing his hands under her knees he brought her legs up, opening her to him and licking right between her legs. Róisín squirmed a little, but his strong hands just held her in place as he licked at her deeply and leisurely, as if he were enjoying the taste of her.
Finally, he swirled his tongue around her clit and licked across it. So slowly it was torture. Heat crawled up her neck with each firm swipe, so sweet and hot it was unbearable.
Then he sucked her clit.
Her whole body tensed like a chord pulled tight with sharp pleasure, her eyes squeezing shut. His tongue moved rapidly and she came hard, gripping the sheets so tightly her arms burned.
The world stopped as her body jerked and her throat tightened, full of all the desperate pleas she couldn't bear to let out.
As her clit became sensitive she squirmed and tried to move away, but he just gripped her closer, his hands around her waist, and plunged his tongue inside her. Her hips bucked against his face and her inner muscles clenched again and again and she had the painfully erotic thought that he might feel it against his tongue.
When she finally stopped twitching, he kissed her thighs and pubic bone, leaving her centre alone, until he dropped down again to kiss her clit, which was still so sensitive she shuddered and tried to wriggle away.
His eyes were dark and satisfied as he crawled up her body, his mouth glistening. He wiped his face with his palm, and asked, "Good?" a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Róisín nodded once decisively but turned away from him into the mattress, hiding her head in her arm, fiercely shy now that she could think straight.
He climbed off the bed and then she felt him gathering her pyjama bottoms and placing her feet through them. He dragged them up over her calves until Róisín took over and finished putting them on. He started buttoning his jacket over his now wrinkled shirt, the lust in his eyes gone. Róisín heart clenched painfully.
"Em, sir?"
"Yes?"
"Are we not going to…"
"We should wait and see how your magic responds. Maybe that will have been enough."
The disappointment must have been clear on her face because he raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "You don't think so?"
She shrugged. "I dunno. Just doesn't seem fair."
"On who? Me?" Snape scoffed. "You're not here for my satisfaction, Miss Feral."
Róisín rolled so she was facing away from him again, wishing that she was here for his satisfaction. Did he not want to have sex with her now? It was unbearable to think that maybe he'd had his mouth and tongue all over her but didn't like it, that he didn't like any of this. Suddenly she needed him to leave as quickly as possible so that he wouldn't see her cry.
"Feral-" He hesitated, "Do you want to?"
She rolled back over. He had paused in his re-dressing.
"Only if you do," she said in a small voice.
"I want to do exactly as you wish me to."
Róisín broke eye contact with him but put her thumbs under the waistband of her pyjamas and started to pull down.
Snape looked so tense she thought he might snap. Then he started undoing all those buttons again. It took him longer than it took her to take off her bottoms, so she crawled under the covers.
He unbuckled his trousers and the sound was so masculine that Róisín couldn't help but roll over and bury her face in her pillow, her breathing heavy with nervous anticipation. He threw the covers off her and she yelped in surprise and twisted back to face him, her heart throbbing. He was only in his boxers and when he climbed over her she could feel the heat of his naked skin against hers.
He rubbed his hand up her leg and stroked her opening before dipping a finger just barely inside her. She flinched at the intrusion. He put his finger deep in his mouth and rubbed her clit with his other hand. She wiggled her hips away because she was still sensitive there, looking up at him anxiously but he wasn't watching her face, he was staring in between her legs, transfixed. Slowly, he pushed his finger inside her, curling it against her front walls, causing a luscious ache to flare inside her, and she was hit by the knowledge that she'd do anything for him to keep touching her like that.
Then she gasped as he removed his hand from her and brought it to his mouth again, this time sucking on both his index and middle fingers, before swirling them around her opening. Róisín looked away, embarrassed at the sight of him tasting her, and anticipated the stingy stretch.
"Look at me," he ordered.
Her gaze snapped to his.
He slowly pushed his two fingers inside her. Róisín couldn't help but grit her teeth against the tightness.
"Painful?"
She gave a tiny shrug.
He drew out the second finger and only used the first, caressing inside her again and again until she didn't know if it was agony or pleasure. His other hand was gripping her hip, his fingers digging in a little, holding her steady. He gently took his finger out of her and muttered under his breath. Something flew out of his robes and landed in his hands. He enlarged it and Róisín saw it was a jar of coconut oil.
She blushed and looked away, feeling herself drip onto the sheets and thinking that she couldn't possibly be more wet than she was. Then she glanced at his erection. Snape was rubbing up and down its length, and with his large hand wrapped around it, it looked very thick in comparison to the finger she'd just been squeezed tightly around. Maybe he was just trying to give her all the help she could get.
She felt her cheeks heat even more when she realised she'd been staring. Glancing at his face, she saw that he'd been watching her watch him, his eyes narrowed with lust. He stroked her opening twice before spreading her lips gently and looking down, as if he wanted to see inside her and Róisín felt a strange mix of shame and arousal. He wrapped his hand around the underside of her thigh and lifted it up, before using his other to position himself at her entrance.
"Yes?" he asked, his deep voice dragging through her. She nodded and gripped the bedsheets. "Say it."
"Yes," she whispered.
A/N:
1. I'm sorry
2. I'm probably changing canon a little bit by writing that Voldemort doesn't torture his followers often, but I prefer to depict him a bit more like his younger self in canon, evil but also charming and manipulative. My head canon is that the cruciatus, when cast correctly, causes the most physical pain it is possible to feel, so I don't want it to be taken lightly in this fic.
3. Thank you so much for your continued support! I'll update my bio with a longer A/N tomorrow. :)