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Stress Relief	By : pittwitch Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 29372 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the world or characters of Harry Potter. I make absolutely no money from this.

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Friday Frolics Stress Relief
Part of the Friday Frolics from my LJ account, simply a PWP, no plot, no thinking, just basically doodling with words, just a tad early.

Dedicated to Shez whose wonderful compliment spurred me into action. Thanks, love. And for Trickie Woo who demands that Snape gets laid - frequently.

Other Friday Frolics include: Preparedness and In the Dungeon Damp and Dark.

Stress Relief

The great wooden doors to Hogwarts Castle creaked open ominously, admitting a slender figure hidden under a dark grey cloak. Argus Filch lurched to the side to allow the guest safe passage then pushed against the doors to coax them to close once more. Alecto Carrow swooped down the main staircase, grinning maniacally.

"Ah, someone out past curfew, Filch?" she asked gleefully as she reached out for the arm of the person who was carefully shaking the raindrops from their cloak.

"If you value having your hand attached at the wrist, you will remove it from my person," snarled the newcomer, throwing her head up and meeting Alecto's cross-eyed stare with a menacing glare.

"How dare ..." the Carrow's rant was cut off by the ringing voice of Professor McGonagall calling from the landing.

"Molesting the Headmaster's guests now, Alecto?" Minerva pressed her prim lips together quite firmly to stifle her sniggering.

Alecto released the stranger's arm and turned her gaze to McGonagall. Haughtily, she addressed the professor, "I presumed she was another errant Gryffindor, Minerva."

"You presume much, Madame," the stranger snarled. "I have been summoned by Headmaster Snape. Do you dare delay me further?" she challenged, tossing her hood off her head, and curling her upper lip in utter distaste.

"Of ..." Alecto swallowed at the glinting steel she glimpsed in the eyes of the visitor. "... course not. Please follow me.?"

"Pleasure to see you, Minerva." The guest nodded cordially to the professor, crossing her eyes quite disrespectfully at the back of Alecto's head. McGonagall's hand flew to cover her mouth and she coughed, clearing her throat of the laughter stuck in her craw.

"Pleasure as always," the prim Scotswoman replied in kind with a sly wink and a long-unseen twinkle in her eye.

Alecto Carrow paused at the stairway leading to the Headmaster's office, ostensibly waiting for the guest to catch up to her. The wool-clad figure glided past her, fully knowing her destination. The dumpy Deatheater scowled and scurried after the more elegant witch gracefully and speedily ascending the stone steps. She was huffing slightly when they arrived, more quickly than she thought possible, at the stone gargoyle guarding Snape's inner sanctum.

The taller witch turned and glowered down her nose at her annoying escort. She arched her eyebrow in silent question. Alecto managed to stammer, "Don't you know the password?"

"Mais oui," she answered cheerily. "I will use it when you have left me." She sniffed and pretended to pick at an invisible piece of lint from her sleeve, patiently waiting for the interloper to disappear into the woodwork. Alecto hesitated, wavering, so desperate to mine the password from this stranger. The witch sighed and began to tap her foot impatiently.

"Oh, very well then,"Alecto whined, stomping away, still hoping to find an errant Gryffindor or two to torture.

Snape's guest stood silently and patiently waiting until she was absolutely sure the dowdy woman had passed outside of earshot. Still, caution overrode her sense of urgency and she leaned very close to the gargoyle's ear then whispered the password for only it to hear.

Grudgingly, the gargoyle grated to one side, revealing the staircase. The witch sprang onto the first step and the gargoyle rushed to close against any other intruders. As she neared the top, and the door to Snape's office, she shuddered, hearing the raving of the angry man inside.

"What about ME?" he raged. "What about my soul, you bloody bastard?" Something fragile crashed into the wall, its splintering pieces tinkling to the floor like delicate wind chimes in a soft breeze.

"You can pretend to sleep all you want. I still know." Something else clattered against the door, sounding more metallic than glass this time.

The sounds from inside the office disappeared. The visiting witch quietly pushed the door open to the distraught visage of Severus Snape at the Headmaster's desk, his head in his hands, the office in shambles. He neither heard her, nor looked up at the creak of the door.

"I sold my soul years ago," he acceded sadly.

Shoving her kid gloves into her cloak pockets, the woman nearly ran to him, embracing him from behind, leaning forward to hold him against herself tightly.

"That does not mean your soul is unredeemable," she whispered to him, her eyes closed, willing his pain to dissipate.

With a deep sigh, Snape sat back, allowing himself the protection of her arms, and closed his eyes. She kissed his temple, and rested her hands on the planes of his chest.

"I did not think you would come," he stated in a gruff voice.

"I am wounded that you doubted me," she mocked him gently, leaning more forward to press her lips to his cheek. His hands, resting on the desk blotter, trembled slightly.
"I wound everyone," he snarled.

"I was teasing, you git," she chided him as she pulled the chair backwards to make room to settle herself on his lap. "You called. I came." She kissed his lips, running her hands up his arms to cradle his face. "Whenever you call, I will come." She kissed his forehead. "Please do not doubt that again?"
"If you came here, now ... amidst all this ..." He paused to draw a deep calming breath. "I will never doubt you again."

"Good. Now, I want a brandy." She sprang from his lap, eyes sparkling with mirth, and hustled to his side bar, pouring herself a stiff measure. She turned towards him and asked with a gesture of the decanter whether he would be joining her. Dolefully, he shook his head, but pushed himself up from the desk and approached her.

"Allow me to take your cloak, Madamoiselle?"

"Mais oui." She beamed a smile up at him as she set her snifter down to allow him to drag the sodden cloak from her arms. "I was hoping to stay."

"I can hardly allow myself to hope that you will stay," Snape added in his now normal baritone as he eyed her up and down. She wore a simple navy dress, square cut front, long sleeves with a hint of ivory lace at the cuffs. Her white skin gleamed against the contrast of the dark cotton of her garment.

"Hope," she vowed, grabbing him forcefully about the waist and pulling their bodies together. "My imagination has run wild for the past two days with the possibilities for us for tonight."

Snape groaned, dropped her cloak, and used both arms to embrace her tightly. The duo stood there for a long time, relishing in their closeness, their need not to speak, and their similarity of purpose for the night.

Slowly, her smaller hand crept up to his throat and the tiny onyx button of his first layer of woolen armor. As she teased each one free, he kissed the side of her head, inhaling deeply of the soft smell of her shampoo. When at last she reached the last one, she ran her hands up his abdomen under the heavy black wool and pushed his waistcoat off his shoulders, allowing it to cascade to the floor atop her cloak.

She massaged his shoulders through the crisply pressed linen of his dress shirt. "Come. Sit. Let me help you," she practically commanded him. With a slight quirk of his lips, a slight quirk that only she recognized as a smile, he acquiesced, settling onto the pillows she tossed onto the floor for him to sit on. She straddled him, pulling him into the embrace of her thighs and began to work diligently on the knotted muscles of his neck. He groaned in pleasure as she freed the tension from his body. He took the initiative and began to remove his shirt. She began placing tiny kisses on the nape of his neck, lifting his lank hair to one side. He shrugged out of his garment and caught one of her hands, bringing it to press his lips against it in non-verbal thanks for her presence. She kissed her way to his ear and nibbled on the shell, gently, before licking it with just the tip of her tongue.

"Woman!" he growled warningly.

"Yes, I am a woman," she teased him and his ear once more.

"Enough," he bellowed, yanking her from her perch into his lap.

�Oh no, not tonight, Headmaster, dear,� she waggled her finger in his face before she leapt to her feet, straddling him, forcing him to look up at her. �Tonight, you relax and allow me to bring you pleasure.�

�Indeed,� he growled good-naturedly, a thin smile tweaking the corners of his mouth.

�Yes. Tonight, you will close your eyes and allow me to guide you.�

�And if I want to watch you?�

�Then watch, you git!� She giggled and pulled him to his feet. �Whatever brings you some modicum of joy for the night.�

�I will watch you, then. Preferably, you will remove your gown?� he teased.

�By your leave,� she acknowledged his request with a tiny curtsy and a quick escape from the gown, leaving it to fall around her feet then kicking it to lay with her cloak.

�No underthings?� he gasped at the bare naked beauty before him.

�Will I need them?� she asked in mock concern.

�Indeed not!� he exclaimed, leaping to his feet, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to his private chambers.

Snape dumped her own his bed and rapidly began shedding the clothing he had left.

�I seem to be overdressed for this occasion.�

�Way overdressed!� she bantered, scooting to the side of the bed, yet never taking her eyes off of him. His bare chest was much more pale than the last time she had seen him. His skin was nearly translucent and his dark-skinned areolas and nipples sharply contrasted against the whiteness. A thin trail of black hair led downward from his navel to his waist, disappearing under the waistband of his trousers. He flipped open the silver snake buckle of his belt, unbuttoned the top button and slid the zipper down.

The witch smiled approvingly at the sight, licking her lips in anticipation. He shoved his hands into his waistband and dispatched with all of his lower garments in one urgent motion. His cock sprang free, thick, pulsing and fully prepared. She crawled towards him. Smiling still, she kissed his damp tip, laughing softly as it bounced against her lips. She swirled her tongue underneath his head and he moaned softly, catching his fingers in her hair.

�Yes, witch, suck me,� he demanded.

She grinned at him just before opening her mouth wide and taking as much of his shaft as she could into her mouth and sucking for all she was worth.

His knees buckled, forcing him to catch himself on the bedpost. She grabbed his arse, steadying him as she continued her lingual massage, vigorously, sloppily and with a joy he truly appreciated.

�Stop!� he ordered. She did not obey. �Stop, please?� He panted heavily, fighting for control of his body. �I � you � won�t � too soon ��

She turned her head, drew in a deep breath through her nose, and took him even deeper into her throat, digging her nails into the flesh of his backside with delicious painful counterpoint. He exploded with a roar, head drooping, chest heaving.

�We have all night, Severus,� the witch instructed him softly as she licked her lips. �That was merely an aperitif.�

�Merciful Merlin, woman. I am not a young man.�

Chortling, she rejoined him, �You are by no means old, Severus.� She pulled him down to lie on the bed next to her. �And, I have much more left from my imaginings.�

�I believe I may like your imagination.�

�I believe you will learn to love my imagination.� She laughed, a joyful sound to his ears, and rolled into his side to begin kissing his chest.
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Stress Relief