Note: This is a follow-on to Screaming Virgin, so you might want to read that first.
Not sure whether this was any good, and it hasn't had much feedback on list (my own silly fault for posting it the week the movie came out).
One person wants more (a reaction-shot from the end of the story) but I can't really figure out how to add it in the POV of the story, so it probably won't happen. The only way to do this would be to make another story. That probably won't happen. I fully intend to do one social-comedy story about reactions to Snape and Hagrid being an item, but it'll probably follow on from Size Queen instead of Screaming Virgin.
Kudos to Lexin, Gloria L, Mari and Fuchsia for turning up to my party and helping brainstorm this. They're to blame for some of the better lines, particularly the ones about Longbottom.
Snape sighed as Hagrid settled in next to him at the back of the draughty hall. Hagrid had this habit of soaking up all the available sitting-space in the vicinity. Nobody built chairs with Hagrid in mind.
In Dumbledore's introductory speech, the question of bisexuality was mentioned: "It is certainly neither wrong nor unheard-of for young persons to be uncertain of their own sexuality at first, although it is merely common courtesy for them to decide before actually experimenting with somebody else." Also, the pupils were expected to learn understanding of different people's lives.
As for why the teachers had to attend as well, the ostensible reason was to spread understanding and see what ground had already been covered. Snape suspected Dumbledore was just spreading the misery. As in, if this appallingly-embarrassing experience was to be visited upon the children, why not the adults as well.
Not that Dumbledore looked embarrassed, just benignly confident.
Black, too, didn't look bothered, although Snape supposed that after Azkaban this probably seemed a very tame form of misery.
Snape himself tried to look coldly-composed, as normal.
He glanced further forward.
All the girls were doing their best not to move a muscle.
Draco Malfoy looked as though he had no intention of learning anything from a lesbian, or possibly as though he had no intention of going anywhere near a woman except for reasons of the Malfoy succession. Lucius had been just the same.
The boy was an idiot. How was he ever going to learn anything with an attitude like that? If nothing else, there were unparalleled opportunities for blackmail in other people's sex-lives, and it was just un-Slytherin to ignore that.
He himself had no intention of ever becoming sexually involved with a woman, but knowledge was always valuable.
Harry Potter looked embarrassed in a clean-minded, sickeningly-honest Gryffindor way. Neville Longbottom looked embarrassed in a hot, sweaty, ‛I wish I were anywhere else' sort of way. Hermione Granger was, as ever, poised to take notes. Intellectual interest in everything gave her a sort of freedom: most of the other girls were Trying Not To Look Like A Lesbian, while Hermione was only ever embarrassed by not knowing things.
"Right," said Hooch, "you may ask me questions. As you know, questions may be submitted in advance if you feel shy about asking in public, but you are permitted to raise your hands and ask me if anythin' I'm saying is not clear. Clear?"
There was a disgruntled murmuring.
"First question." Hooch unrolled a crumpled scrap of parchment. "‛How do lesbians do it? Signed EG.'" she read. There was a lot of whispering, but it seemed clear that a lot of people wanted to know, for whatever reason.
"Stick broomsticks up there!" Goyle called. There was an outburst of shocked laughter.
Hooch glared. "I see the misinformation is spreading already, and there's a need for some proper sex-education. Definitely no broomsticks. As you could see from lookin' at it, a broomstick is too large, and too straight, and would damage a person." She grinned. "And however much I love my broomstick, it's not in that way."
More shocked giggling.
"Stick their wands up there!" said Crabbe. They seem to have an unhealthy fascination with the idea, thought Snape.
"Wand-play can be possible," Hooch admitted grudgingly, "but I'd like you to think carefully about introducin' a sensitive magical implement to your bodies when you're not in the most careful frame of mind. Because people aren't, with sex. That's how accidents happen. Every so often somebody turns up at St Mungo's with a wand stuck in a very peculiar place."
"As it happens, you heterosexual boys and girls needn't look so smug. Yes, it happens to queer wizards and dyke witches, but it also happens to perfectly straight either, who've just felt a bit curious about masturbation." She looked at them sharply.
"I'd advise any lesbian who feels curious or interested in vaginal insertion to use fingers. Or toys, like the Muggles do."
She held one up.
"It looks like a..." someone said. Snape felt a momentary nostalgia for the toy that had been so wonderfully discreet, before realising that no, he actually didn't miss it now he had less occasion to use it. Yes. There actually is more to life than my own gratification. How unlike a Slytherin. Although I suppose there is something snake-like in my desire for warmth, he thought, enjoying the way Hagrid's leg was still pressed hot against his. Big and warm, and it reminded him of last night, the furnace-heat of Hagrid's big body pressed against him, rocking him unhurriedly to pleasure. He'd got accustomed to a nightly routine involving sex, then cuddling. If they didn't have much time they combined the two activities and fell asleep sticky but satisfied.
"Yes, that one looks like a penis," she said matter-of-factly. "Some lesbians like the feeling of that. If you heterosexual gentlemen are feeling smug about What They Really Want Is A Man, I could point out that such women are quite satisfied to play with this bit, and they don't need the rest of the man attached to it."
I thought I wouldn't, once, Snape mused. I thought I could let Hagrid fuck me for mutual convenience and that would be that. Impersonal. Tidy our cocks away afterwards just like dildos, no need to think about it again...
Hagrid moved his leg very slightly, rubbing it against Snape's. "I'm bein' careful," he whispered, in a voice slightly quieter than a foghorn.
"Don't whisper so loudly!" Snape snapped almost silently.
"Well, I am bein' whatchacallit-discreet," Hagrid complained, luckily in an actual whisper, "because I wouldn't mind feelin' yeh up, and I'm not touchin' yeh."
Snape opened his eyes, and watched Crabbe and Goyle still trying to work out that they'd been insulted by being reduced to component level.
"Fifth question." As Hooch took out another scrap of parchment, Snape realised he must have been a little distracted by thoughts of Hagrid. Hooch read out, "‛How do you know? If you are? I mean, you in general. And how do you choose who to do it with? Signed PP'"
Everyone laughed. Snape noticed Draco looking speculatively at Pansy Parkinson, then Padma Patil. The boy was an idiot. Of course he had no moral objections to curiosity, but he'd trained himself out of being seen looking long before he was Draco's age.
"It's not that stupid a question," said Hooch. "Your age is the one where you might not be sure. But you're the only person who can say what you are. Sexual orientation is about the whole person. Quite simply, do you fancy males or females, or both? Which makes your heart beat faster when an attractive one walks in the room? You need to work out that bit for yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. I'm just tellin' you what comes next. What you do when you've found someone to have sex with. That can involve toys, tongues, hands, full-body-massage or anything that's mutually agreeable."
"What do they do if they don't have toys, just not have sex?" asked Dawson, one of the third-years.
"Vaginal insertion isn't the only way to have sex. It's not even the only way if you're straight, though it is probably the most common in that case."
Draco's expression telegraphed clearly: Thank Merlin I'm not common. Snape sighed. Misogyny and class-prejudice were such blunt instruments. He himself considered intelligence the only possible guiding rule, which if anything meant he looked down on rather more people than Draco did, because he so rarely saw any sign of it.
"What's ‛vaginal insertion'?" whispered Hagrid.
Snape murmured, "Fucking." He refused to think about the fact that Hagrid wouldn't pass most of his own private intelligence-tests, because then he'd have to worry about the state of his own mind now that he spent so much time with him.
"The vagina," said Hooch, "isn't the main organ of sexual pleasure in a woman." She quickly sketched something on the blackboard.
"This is a diagram," said Hooch, at an approximation to her usual Quidditch-pitch bellow, "of where to find the clitoris. Like a Snitch, it's small but important. It's the only organ of the human body whose sole function is sexual pleasure. There are plenty of other bits that can feel pleasure, but this is the only one that simply exists for that purpose and nothing else."
"I never knew that had a name," murmured Hagrid. "I knew what it was for, but I didn' know people had given it a name."
"A digression for you gentlemen," Hooch went on. "Any of you young men that were thinking you can get girls into bed without needing to pay attention to this-" her wand flicked out to the illustration, "-well, you can. Once. If you don't pay attention to what she likes, what's going to keep her coming back, hey? And if you just have a lot of one-nighters..." she said ominously "...the girls are going to start telling their friends what you're like, and then you won't have anyone." She put the wand down and turned to face them.
"Do you miss women?" Snape murmured to Hagrid. "Now that I've been appropriating your company so much of late."
"No. Yeh keep me busy," said Hagrid. "I've never seen the point in lookin' back to the last person yeh went out with and thinkin' ‛what if?'."
"Who was the last person you went out with?"
"Madame M. She's gorgeous, of course, and she danced well with me-it was lovely bein' the right size for someone, but...after a while we realised we didn' have much in common, beside the obvious."
Snape could only agree with that. The pair had made good dancing-partners, but apart from the vast language-gap (it was hard enough for an English person to get through the thicket of Hagrid's natural dialect), Madame Maxime had always seemed colder and more formal than Hagrid. On the other hand, so did he. All right, so he didn't deserve Hagrid, just wanted him. However, there was no need to go into convulsions of abstract morality at discovering he'd achieved a goal he wasn't entitled to.
Meanwhile, Hooch had been going on with her informative discourse. "Now, you may think that if you're a dyke you don't need to know anything about technique, because you do to her just what you want done to you. Well, I can tell you that's wrong. Some people go at it as if they're trying to rub the thing out, like this, and some people like a sort of delicate fluttering technique." She moved her hands in illustration. "It's a matter of individual taste, there's no one right way to do it. Same with kissing, oral sex, or anything else."
"That's right, wi' women or men. Like tamin' beasts," murmured Hagrid. "Yeh've got ter listen to what they want."
"All right, so how do we know what a woman wants?" asked Finnegan.
"A direct, straightforward woman will tell you," said Hooch. "She might talk to you, or she might shove your head or your fingers where she wants them if she doesn't feel like talking."
Snape was assailed by inconvenient memories. Oh, not of women, just of the last few times he'd felt like that. Hagrid might fail any exam known to man (probably wouldn't even write his name on it or write on the correct side of the paper), but he had a good deal of natural intelligence about what his partner wanted, and didn't waste time once Snape was in a hurry.
"If she doesn't tell you directly, listen to her body. Is she twitching away from your touch as if you're tickling her? Pause what you're doing and try something else. Is she moving towards you and moving with you? On the right track. You've got the right to ask-gently, don't ‛interrogate' her for goodness' sake!-and she's got the right to ask you what you like."
Switching a few pronouns mentally, Snape decided that description worked for him.
She sighed. "I'm sure it would be easier for all of us if I could simply teach you some magic technique that works on everyone, but there isn't one. Remember that if the woman is reasonably emotionally mature, she won't complain because you don't know what she wants instantly."
Snape watched the thought Why not? I would! appear on Draco's all-too-readable face.
"Ask her. Let yourself explore her body, try things that she might like. It's a dialogue. You're both finding out about each other the first time. Nerves are to be expected. All you can do is your best."
"Pay attention to the erogenous zones: the parts of the body that arouse sexual excitement. The obvious ones are breasts and the vulval area..."
"With a bloke it's just his cock, the obvious bit," Hagrid murmured.
Snape looked down, trying to glare his crotch into submission. The damn thing was, now Hagrid mentioned it, altogether too obvious. He folded his hands in his lap, wishing he had Hagrid's hands there and they were in private.
A hand rose. "What's vulval area?'"
"The female sexual organ as a whole: clitoris, lips, vagina and all that," Hooch explained impatiently. "The less-obvious erogenous zones might be inner thighs, bottom, neck."
"Inner thighs, definitely. Arse, balls, nipples, inside of yeh elbows, neck..." Hagrid leaned close to him and whispered, "earlobes," then sucked at one gently in a way that made all Snape's other erogenous zones show an interest.
"You might," Hooch went on, "try a full-body massage, or using things with interesting textures, like silk scarves, or flavoured body-paint. Anything kinkier than that had better be kept for later in the relationship."
"I ‛aven't tried silk on yeh," said Hagrid. "Or body-paint. Might be fun."
Another hand rose. "What flavours does body-paint come in?" asked Parry, one of the more curious fifth-years.
"Chocolate, strawberry, things like that. Fred and George Weasley are apparently working on one involving Botts Beans. I wouldn't recommend trying that."
Snape glared at his crotch again. Even the thought of Botts Beans body-paint wasn't making it go down.
"I could rather fancy paintin' you up and lickin' yeh off," said Hagrid.
"Hagrid, you're just hungry. Haven't you got a bun in your pocket?"
Hagrid licked his ear again, stealthily. "Not so much that I'm hungry as that yeh're tasty."
"That is not helpful." It was a statement of the obvious. Since every nerve in his body was screaming for immediate relief, that was the best he could do.
Hagrid moved, very slowly, away from Snape's leg.
Snape thought about Trelawney naked. Then he thought about Lockhart naked. Then he thought about Trelawney and Lockhart together.
"Any more questions? No? Well, my door's always open, except when I'm busy with Quidditch, but I hope that's informed you enough," Hooch said briskly.
Getting up, Hagrid managed to do quite a bit of unintentional rubbing. He wasn't teasing, of course, just too large for any given normal space, and it bid fair to undo all Snape's good work in the anti-fantasy department.
Maybe he should... no. No power on earth was going to make him think about Trelawney and Lockhart a second time.
Trying to walk as though he was suffering from muscular stiffness, he went slowly towards the door. Most people were going towards the dining hall. He headed for his nice, cool, quiet dungeon at a brisk walk.
There, he flopped into the one comfortable chair and sat there for five minutes, breathing hard and thinking about how close he'd come to just grabbing Hagrid and dragging him out of there. Or going at it there and then. Hagrid wouldn't have minded. Or Hagrid would have picked him up in both brawny arms: "Scuse me, sirs and madams, the perfessor seems to have sprained ‛is ankle, and I'm just taking him to deal with it." Hagrid did not have an ounce of natural duplicity in him, while Snape was made of little else. Sometimes Snape thought one or other of them needed a phrasebook.
There was a knock on the door. Hagrid's large, apologetic face peered nervously round at him, and then Hagrid came in and shut the door behind him.
"What kept you, Rubeus?" he snapped, as Hagrid dropped to his knees and began fumbling with Snape's clothes.
"Sorry, Sev. Got cornered by-"
"I don't want to hear it!" He didn't have to. Hagrid opened his mouth and did his best to swallow Snape whole. Tight, wet, fast and uninhibited. Rubbing his balls as he sucked, as if to say ‛go on and enjoy it!'.
Snape considered holding back the awaiting orgasm for three whole seconds, then walloped it right down Hagrid's throat with a long luxurious groan of relief.
"Like you looking like that, Sev," said Hagrid eventually.
"‛M not. Looking like anything."
"I mean, sittin' there with your tongue hangin' out and your eyes shut. ‛Cause yeh don't care how undignified yeh look when yeh're happy."
"Yeh've got twenty minutes before yeh next class. Yeh sandwich is on the desk."
"Not one of mine. One of the house-elves did it."
"Put yeh face on before yeh go back in. Yeh know yeh hate it when they catch you looking normal."
The door shut. Snape dozed. After a while, his hand reached out for the sandwich. He ate it without bothering to open his eyes. When he had eaten the sandwich, he opened his eyes, wrenched his face into its usual forbidding expression, and got up.
McGonagall made a brisk entrance.
"Pay attention, ladies and gentlemen," she said firmly. "Madam Hooch has done a very able job for women who prefer women, which leaves me to deal with the yawning gulf between the sexes. Young men have a lot to learn before they should be let loose with female companionship. Starting with manners, because a lot of them don't mean anything wrong, but they don't think of their partner's feelings, just their own pleasure."
Snape shifted uneasily in his seat. Not only young men, and not only female companionship.
Hagrid whispered. "Yeh made it up to me."
Snape felt rather annoyed. He had, as it happened, taken an hour or two giving Hagrid a massage that turned into an unusually slow and tender seduction that evening. He didn't like the idea that his motives were that transparent.
"I know yeh didn't mean it," Hagrid said, squeezing his hand. "Yeh were just in a bad way, yeh weren't crool."
Poor self-control bothered him even more than cruelty.
"Put me foot in it again, did I?" Hagrid whispered. "Dunno what I said. I'll shut up now."
Snape relaxed a bit. At least Hagrid couldn't read his mind, just make inferences from his actions. Stealthily, he stroked the very tip of his thumb against Hagrid's hand.
"To adapt a popular Muggle title," McGonagall went on, "wizards are from Mars, witches are from Venus."
Snape looked at the rows and rows of equally blank faces.
"We might as well be from different planets when it comes to the way we're brought up," said McGonagall. "At a certain age, wizards and witches are more likely to have learned the give-and-take of mutual understanding."
Snape noticed Draco looking at Dumbledore and then at McGonagall. The boy was a twit. Albus and Minerva had been having a friendly, undemanding affair for years. It was neither a grande passion nor particularly secret. Therefore, no leverage. Therefore, no point in Draco speculating.
Most of the other children had that Age Will Never Happen To Me expression.
"At your age," said Professor McGonagall, "a lot of pernicious nonsense gets in the way. Love, for example. I can dimly remember that an adolescent takes about three weeks to fall in love, and it's all foolishness. A girl of that age might see a boy four or five times in the hallways, if she's from a different House-and she falls for him without speaking a word. Add a couple of secret trysts in the Astronomy Tower, and she's in love! Maybe the feeling will hold true, but only time will tell. Just think to yourselves, which are you going to remember in thirty years' time, the boy you were in love with for a week or two, or your best friend?"
None of this applies to me, Snape thought, before realising, with a small shock, that his life had changed lately. The number of his current friends had doubled to two. Also, Hagrid was the first disinterested friend he had ever had. Lucius, Voldemort-even Dumbledore-had wanted him for what he could do. Also, although he certainly would not describe himself as ‛in love' with Hagrid, Hagrid was the only person in his life whom he could rationally describe as a lover.
He'd have difficulty forgetting Hagrid without an Obliviate Charm the size of...well, Hagrid.
"And if you tell yourself you don't need to talk to the people you're in love with, you need to examine your assumptions," McGonagall said sharply.
"First question," said McGonagall. "‛What do you do if he says, "if you loved me, you would?" Signed WB'" She paused. "Tell him, ‛if you loved me, you wouldn't pressure me'."
Crabbe had his hand up. "Blokes need to, miss. Or their, er, things drop off."
"There's a word for that theory, Mr Crabbe, and by a strange coincidence it's the same word as one of the words for a man's ‛things'." She paused while Crabbe's brain apparently tried to spontaneously combust. "Oh, get Mr Malfoy to explain that remark to you!", she said disgustedly, as the rest of the school erupted in muffled sniggers. "Both males and females feel discomfort at interrupted or delayed sexual activity," she went on, "and neither males nor females explode or die because of it."
Hagrid stroked Snape's hand again. "Feels nice when yeh do finish off after a bit of a wait, though," he murmured, rather lecherously. "And I like the look on yeh face when yeh're happy."
Snape didn't answer, being too busy trying to tell his prick that it couldn't want to already, and gritting his teeth when it told him, oh no? It had obviously been taking lessons in sarcasm from the rest of him. He tried to distract himself by looking at Hagrid, but Hagrid was evidently thinking about the same thing. Now he just wanted to climb into Hagrid's lap and wriggle.
He leaned slightly closer to Hagrid, and murmured: "How long does this lecture go on for?"
"Till lunch, like the last one."
Snape groaned silently.
"My turn to give you lunch." Hagrid went on.
Snape groaned silently again. He didn't actually mind being licked by Hagrid, but he drew the line at being licked or chewed or bitten by any of Hagrid's furry friends. As well as that, Hagrid's idea of lunch was usually inedible to persons without Hagrid's own cast-iron digestion. Luckily, he'd stocked up on breakfast, as he usually remembered to do when Hagrid was inviting him to his own style of lunch.
"Next question, ‛Is it just boys who want to?' Signed MB"
"No, of course not!" said McGonagall. "Girls do seem to have a bit more sense about not jumping into bed in a hurry, though. If you are going to have sex, try to be sensible about it.
Well, he couldn't argue with that. About a year being sexually-active, and he was still struggling to be sensible and not just jump on Hagrid. Not that Hagrid ever minded if he did. Both as bad as each other half the time. Must be because they were both male.
"Next question, ‛Will I get pregnant?' Signed FP." She paused. "Luckily, there's something you can actually do about that. Use prophylactus, which protects against disease and unwanted pregnancy. It will always work on another person with magical skill, but it's less reliable on a Muggle or squib."
Good, thought Snape. She and Black will have to cover birth control, and I was afraid she was going to stick to ‛don't!' I suppose there's nothing wrong with advising abstinence, if people are going to take the advice. Which they won't.
"Next question, ‛How do I make sure I have sex with the right person?' Signed PP." Snape saw Draco glance speculatively at Padma Patil, then Pansy Parkinson.
"Above all," said McGonagall, "if you're going to have sex, choose someone you like. I know it's obvious, but I've had to comfort some girls-and boys-who've woken up the next day upset. If you won't even want to face him on the morning after, you're wrong to be considering it."
Snape nodded. Despite his every attempt to discourage them, Slytherin students poured out their many troubles to him (possibly because nobody else on the staff had anything to say to Slytherins except "go away!"). Many of them were having sex when they weren't emotionally prepared for it.
Well, so had he.
It hadn't turned out particularly badly in his case, but if he'd chosen someone less kind, patient and friendly than Hagrid, things could have been a lot worse.
His instincts had chosen well. Not that he'd have admitted to instinct. Something-possibly quite an irrational something-had fled in terror from the thought of Lucius and his companions. He always had been good at camouflaging his own fear.
Instead he'd thrown himself at Hagrid. Relaxed, drunk and half his lifetime later than when he'd considered doing it with Lucius. Surprisingly enough, once he'd got used to the idea, it had turned out quite well.
"No matter how important it seems that you have sex," McGonagall said firmly, "think first, jump later (if at all)."
"I do think first," murmured Hagrid.
"You think ‛Let's!' first," murmured Snape.
Hagrid chuckled happily. "Let's," he agreed. His hand fell gently down into Snape's lap, brushing his crotch. Let's! thought Snape's prick.
Snape wriggled a little. He'd like fingers sliding along the length. He'd like to undo his clothes and do it properly. All he had was the occasional furtive touch. Thumb stroking stealthily against the tip. Just another nice little rub, and...
Hagrid eased away slightly.
Snape managed a slightly wounded, dazed glare, before remembering where they were. He'd very nearly made an embarrassment of himself in public. He'd always thought Hagrid would do that.
"If you are going to be recklessly foolhardy..." said McGonagall.
Snape jumped slightly.
"...at least do it in a sensible way. Behind closed doors. In private. In a bed."
Snape began to worry.
"If any of you do it in the Astronomy Tower, with the ever-present threat of me or Argus Filch looming up behind you, it's not even going to be a pleasure, is it?" McGonagall continued.
Thank Merlin, she is talking about the students!
"I'm not going to stop patrolling the school at night because it might embarrass people, and Filch certainly isn't."
Snape sighed. All very well, but unless someone gave the brats somewhere safe to go they'd go somewhere unsafe. He'd have to remember to drop the usual occasional hint.
McGonagall said, "Sex need not be the be-all and end-all of a relationship. Try to build up your feelings, your understanding of each other. Make sure you can have a conversation, not just sex."
What's she talking about? Snape wondered. I wouldn't have conversations if it wasn't for all the sex. It does more to knock down my normal barriers than three drops of Veritaserum.
"Even when it seems to be the most important thing in the world, when you feel you'll give anything for one more touch, one more kiss," McGonagall went on, "you're still capable of thinking for yourself."
Smoothly, Hagrid caressed Snape's thumb. Snape caught himself thinking one more touch, one more kiss and sternly reached for his self-control. A bed would have been nice, but...
"There's more to life than sex," said McGonagall.
After having sex, Snape decided, he'd be able to think about all the other important things.
Hagrid's eyes were going a bit unfocused. Snape admired the length of Hagrid's cock stretching in his soft thick trousers.
Groping him would be nice, but too visible. Compromising, Snape slipped a hand just under the edge of Hagrid's thigh. Hagrid lifted his leg a bit to let him in, and murmured, "Beautiful hands you have there, Sev. My cock stiffens up a bit every time you brush me with your delicate little fingertips."
Snape moaned a little.
"Maybe," said McGonagall, "you could consider taking up some other pastime, like knitting, raffia-work or Scrabble, which would occupy your minds and bodies while you got to know each other."
Snape knew even the children were bright enough to work out that such pastimes would not be as physically rewarding. Shouldn't he and Hagrid be on the other side of the great divide of adolescence, though? The civilised, no-longer-having-to-have-sex-this-instant one? Well, he was simply going through it later than usual, having spent his adolescent years sublimating (in one sense or another). Hagrid, being kind and friendly and thoughtful and all those other things he wasn't, was...helping him come to terms with his needs.
"You can't spend all your time kissing and trying to get your hands into each other's clothes. Even that must become dull after a while."
Snape looked at Hagrid.
The bright black eyes held a slightly wild look. Then Hagrid leaned towards him to whisper, "Trouble with her saying all that, is it makes yeh think about it. About fingers and tongues and getting your hands down me trousers when I'm all hard an' slippery."
Snape groaned softly and squeezed his legs together.
"Well, that's all I have to tell you," said McGonagall.
That's quite enough, Snape thought.
"To recap, if there's one thing I want you to remember, it's ‛think first, and if possible instead'," said McGonagall sternly. "You may go now."
The children filed out without saying a word, and Hagrid and Snape were close behind them.
Black said, "Well, it's not how I'm going to do it. Shrivelled-up old Scots tart takes all the joy out of the business!" as Snape reached the door.
He was dimly aware that Albus was reprimanding Black quite firmly as he left. He would normally have stayed to listen to that, and enjoyed it quite thoroughly, but not now. Hagrid was already striding for the outside door, and (after a quick glance round to see he was not being observed) Snape glided stealthily in the same direction.
They reached the cottage, panting slightly, at the same time.
Hagrid pushed the door open, stumbled in with Snape not far behind him, and pushed the door shut behind them.
There was a large sleeping dog curled up on the bed beside a pair of boots, a saucepan with a hole in it and a sack of potatoes.
"Sorry, Sev," said Hagrid weakly. "I knew yeh were comin' round for lunch, and I should have tidied up."
Snape pushed Hagrid against the wall and shoved both hands down the front of his trousers, grabbing and fumbling at him as hard as he could because he knew that the only way he could hurt Hagrid right now was by making him wait. He'd like to kiss Hagrid's mouth while he got both hands full of thick wet cock, but there was no way he could handle the height difference standing up. He was still trying to work out what else he could kiss that wouldn't give him a mouthful of clothing, when Hagrid grunted, shuddered and came, collapsing slowly and impressively against the wall as he finished. Half-Giants could fold up much more dramatically than humans: there was further to go.
"Ooh," sighed Hagrid, from the floor. "That was lovely."
"No, Hagrid. That was ‛a good start'. ‛Lovely' takes more work." Snape sat down on the floor beside Hagrid.
"Undo yeh robes, Sev. My fingers're a bit big."
Snape sighed, and did so. Hagrid's fingers were indeed big, and warm, and just a little rough compared to his own flesh. Hagrid took a handful of him, and squeezed. Rough. Nicely rough. Threatened discomfort, but actual pleasure. He wasn't in the mood for anything delicately fluttery, the need had been nagging at him all morning and now he just wanted it taken care of. Which it was. The steady pressure scratched his itch just right, just right to make him arch and pant and groan as the come gushed out of him.
He collapsed in a panting satisfied heap.
After a few minutes, he managed to gather himself together enough to reach for his wand and clean them both up.
"Yeh know," said Hagrid, "every time yeh meet me for lunch here yeh never eat it."
"I know," said Snape, wondering if the sex or the missing-out on vile foodstuffs was the greater pleasure. He'd go a long way for an orgasm like that, but he'd also go a long way to avoid one of Hagrid's sandwiches.
But there was one thing he was certain of, and that was that he didn't agree with McGonagall.
Scrabble, he thought smugly, doesn't even come close.
The next day, it was Sirius Black's turn.
Smug, cheerful, obnoxious; he had apparently recovered fully from Azkaban. Well, some of the Gryffindor girls were murmuring about a Secret Sorrow, of course, but it really wasn't visible. Black was that type which seemed to get energy and confidence from being with other people. Snape hated that.
"Don't know why I'm giving this silly talk!" Black boomed. "In my day, people had to sort it out for themselves, none of this thinking-it-over rubbish."
Cheering from the audience, although not from Hermione Granger, who looked slightly shocked.
"In your day, you just grabbed the nearest bitch and mounted her," Snape remarked, dryly acid. He was gratified to notice a few instances of scattered laughter, quickly stifled, before a chorus of boos in his direction from the Gryffindors, and Black visibly Rising Above the remark. I saw enough of animal nature when I met your best friend at his wrong time of the month. I could forgive you for trying to kill me; it's entirely excusable for a serious enemy, but what I cannot forgive is the way you were slapped on the wrist like a child who'd made a mistake, when a Slytherin would have been expelled, or worse.
An inconvenient mental voice spoke up to say, and you were bloody relieved when you'd got in over your head with Voldemort and Dumbledore didn't treat you as a responsible adult and send you to Azkaban.
Yes, but I- Well, he hadn't been quite as clever as he'd thought at the time. On the other hand, he could admit that Black hadn't either. Black had probably not thought out that he was engaged in a course of events that was likely to end in the death of his worst enemy and the execution of his best friend. So either we were both responsible for our actions, or neither of us...
Black's glossy dark hair shone, and so did his teeth as he grinned. Unlike Snape, he'd been careful to take care of his appearance once he was no longer on the run. Snape's attitude had always been that anyone who was weak-minded enough to be disturbed by his own yellow teeth or vile hair could deal with the problem on their own.
"Professor McGonagall was right about being careful to avoid mistakes in who you shag. Get it right. Choose someone whose face you won't be too ashamed to see on your pillow. Don't go for a girl with a face like the wrong end of a horse: she'll be grateful but you won't be able to get rid of her. Don't go for a beautiful girl, she'll prefer staying in and doing her hair."
Snape hated him all over again, to his relief. Losing decent long-term grudges would be like admitting he'd wasted a lot of his life. "There speaks a man who doesn't deserve to have sex with anyone," he hissed.
"Oh!" snapped Black, "as if you deserve anyone!"
The boys seemed undecided: the loutish part of the crowd were cheering Black, while the clean-living Gryffindor element looked revolted. This included, to Snape's faint surprise, Potter, Weasley and Longbottom. He'd have thought they'd have agreed with anyone against himself.
Meanwhile, the girls didn't seem to like that at all. Some of them even began to boo Black. Snape was delighted, although he did feel a moment of compunction as he saw the silent misery on Millicent Bulstrode's face. McGonagall tsked quietly.
"I don't care ‛oo yeh deserve, sir. Yeh've got me."
"Next question," Black said. "How do you know if you want girls or boys? PP" Snape glanced quickly at Pansy Parkinson without letting her see he was looking. It was definitely a Slytherin trait to leave that question for four people to answer, then compare and contrast the results until she came to a conclusion.
"Only you know," said Black. "Hooch is quite right: if you catch yourself taking sneaky glances at women, or men, that's how you know."
Black said, "As for Professor McGonagall, she has given lots of information about how to get on after you've slept with somebody, but that's not what you're all interested in, is it? We want the details of how we get there, and what we do when we are there."
Black's enthusiastic claque burst into thunderous applause.
"I bet he's not gettin' as much as we are, though!" Hagrid whispered slyly.
Snape smiled grudgingly. A lot of Black's conceit seemed to be wrapped up in his belief that he was a good lover, and it was nice to feel he (‛the greasy ugly git') was getting on better than the wonderful Sirius Black.
"At least," he murmured, "I won't suffer from inappropriate arousal listening to Black."
"Bet yeh will."
Snape ramped up the force of his glare several notches and let his expression say What?!? for him.
"Yeh've been thinkin' about sex and lettin' me sit next to yeh for the last two days, and look what happens," Hagrid said sunnily.
"Yes, but Black has an unmanning effect on me."
"I don't," said Hagrid unanswerably. A large hand stroked the side of his leg.
"No, but I'm not listening to you giving me a speech."
Hagrid kissed his neck. Firmly. Snape glanced around. He didn't think anyone had seen that. Mm, he could still feel it, even a moment later.
Oh damn, not again. He stared himself firmly in the lap. You can't want it when Sirius Black's giving a speech. We do have some standards. I hope.
Things could be worse. I could be seeing Black. Snape shuddered at the thought of being in bed with all that self-important bounciness. The only thing worse than this dog standing up on its hind-legs and barking about bottom-sniffing, knee-chewing, drooling, wagging, cat-chasing and all its usual interests would be being subjected to its interests.
Hagrid was optimistic to a much more bearable extent. Above all, he did not suggest he was doing Snape a favour with his advances.
"First question, from EK. Does size matter?" Sirius Black read out.
"It don't to me," murmured Hagrid. "I don't mind yeh're a bit small compared to me. Means I have to be a bit careful not to damage yeh because yeh're smaller, that's all."
Snape sighed. "Hagrid, what do you think Black's talking about?"
"Size. Like, me bein' a half-giant and you bein' normal."
Black was saying the usual things about ‛it's not the meat it's the motion' and ‛the strength of the tongue is far more likely to get you a repeat performance'. Sometimes the man had a fraction of sense. Snape would have put him down as the sort of man (dog) who just waved his about and hoped that people would take an interest.
Hagrid looked blank.
"He's being a little more particular than that." Very quickly and stealthily, shadowing his movement with a trailing sleeve, Snape ran a finger down Hagrid's prick, which obediently woke up and made itself noticed.
"Oh," said Hagrid. "That. Well, I can't say I don't wish it were smaller."
"That's quite an unusual wish," said Snape. "A lot of men wish they had one about your size."
"They'd fall over."
"Not a practical choice," admitted Snape. "Why do you want yours smaller?"
"We could do it easier," said Hagrid simply. "If I were built normal, we could do it fast or slow or any way yeh liked. I like to be gentle, but there's a lot of thinkin' it out beforehand we ‛ave to do just because I'm big."
"Well, we can occasionally," said Snape, glancing at him. Using magic to make it easier was hard work, but could be worth it. He'd tried to bring his own expertise into it by asking Hagrid to use a Shrinking Potion, but Hagrid had been nervous, so he'd had to work up a transfiguration. By now, they could both do it, if Snape helped him set it up in advance.
"Can we do that today?" Hagrid asked.
"What do you do," Sirius Black read out, "if you're going out with two girls? JS"
"I won't pretend it's right," said Black, "but it does just happen sometimes. You might want to come to a decision eventually. Next question..."
One of the older children looked rather disappointed. He'd obviously been looking for some useful advice.
He fumbled with the parchment. "What do women really like?" He paused. "Confidence, nerve and humour can get you a long way. Try to talk to her in bed-that always goes over well."
"Next question: is sex important? From JS." Black paused. "Sex is a good thing," he said, "I'm telling you this because we've already heard from the witches' side of the debate, and females always over-emphasise the negative. Of course I agree with them about rape, disease and unwanted pregnancy. Of course..." with a nod to McGonagall, "you don't want girls to break their hearts over you. On the other hand, not every girl's thinking about love and marriage. Sometimes girls want sex for fun just as much as you do. It's perfectly fine if you're both honest."
Snape felt rather glad he hadn't got to bother about those questions.
"Are there physical tricks a girl could do to make a boy want her? From A Girl."
"There are a few," admitted Sirius Black. "Make him feel he's the only man in the world. Touch him from head to toe. There's that trick with the twist that you're too young and innocent to find out about."
What trick? Snape wondered.
To his horror, Hagrid put his hand up. "Is that the tantric-massage trick?" he asked, interested.
Snape groaned silently.
"Eh?" said Black, apparently slightly thrown, "oh, the multiple-orgasm thing? No, there's a sort of thing most of you are too young to find out about. Well, in Muggle brothels abroad-which I just know about from what I've been reading, so stop sniggering at the back there-"
Snape felt reluctantly admiring. No-one knew better than him how difficult it was to gain control over a class who thought they'd caught you out. It had taken him a while to figure that out, and Black had much less teaching experience.
"-they get the girl to lie suspended over the man in a cage, and sort of spin her round on his... on him. I've tried it, without the equipment, and it works. You need an adventurous, lively supple partner, and do it carefully."
Snape glared at Hagrid. No I am not adventurous, willing or supple! He relented at Hagrid's worried expression. "You look a little crushed, Rubeus. Which is, no doubt, the condition I would be in if I tried that ridiculous trick."
"I wouldn't hurt yeh. Lots o' lotion, gettin' yeh ready, getting yeh all hot-and-bothered but not mountin' yeh up until yeh was prepared."
Snape's prick slid inside his trousers. He was getting worked-up just thinking about it, although it was certainly not something they should try today.
"Then I'd pull yeh on top and yeh'd twist around and let me feel it, while I wouldn' move at all for fear of hurtin' yeh."
Snape panted slightly.
"Anyway, I'd prefer to try the tantric hand massage. Wouldn' be as difficult. Think about it."
Snape visualised lying on his bed, holding up a book and reading aloud while Hagrid tried to follow instructions. Hagrid would be busy between his legs. "Paragraph four! Do paragraph four again!" the ‛Snape' in his mind commanded, while the solemnly-working Hagrid said, "Now, Sev, you're not tryin'. Yeh've got to last to the end of the page or it won't count!"
He wriggled. There's another thing too complicated for us to try today. But it sounds good. Lots of care and attention and lovely big hands.
"Take that smirk off your face, Sev," murmured Hagrid, "someone will see."
I must be a little distracted if Hagrid's remarking on my lack of discretion. He restored his expression to its normal dignity, which was surprisingly difficult considering. He wanted to relax and let Hagrid do any number of ridiculous things to him.
It was a very long lecture.
He was relieved to hear the end of it. I solemnly promise myself I will never listen to Sirius Black giving a lecture again. Ever. Even if I have to cut my own ears off.
He was also relieved to get out, even for a slightly staggering brisk walk to the smelly confines of Hagrid's cottage.
The door shut. He swayed slightly on his feet.
"Sit down. Tie this round yeh eyes," Hagrid said, passing him an extremely large handkerchief with a baby green dragon embroidered on it.
Dominant today, are we? he thought, doing so.
He could hear Hagrid breathing, a familiar sound to him by now, and something else breathing as well. This worried him.
Hagrid opened the door. "Off yeh go, Fang. Take yehself for a walk or summat."
The door shut.
Straining every muscle, he could only hear Hagrid breathing. He relaxed a bit.
"I hope you're not thinking of anything too elaborate?"
"Imagine you're still in the hall, with me, listenin' to Black," Hagrid whispered.
"I've got far better things to think about than Black," said Snape crossly.
"An' yeh can't stand waitin', and yeh're wrigglin' about desperately because there's another hour to go before yeh can get somethin' nice for yeh cock, an' yeh're hurtin' for it already. I try to get me hand down behind yeh to hold yeh still..."
Snape felt a large hand slip down behind him. Sometimes he felt as if Hagrid was so big he could hold him effortlessly in the palm of one hand. With a wriggle, he slid onto it. Not quite big enough to hold him up, but it felt good anyway. Very good. Even through his robe. Then Hagrid rubbed the big, warm hand on him, moving the cloth of his robe against his buttocks, and even that indirect stimulation felt good. In his mind's eye, they were still in the hall, and the biggest hand imaginable was somehow managing to give him a stealthy feel under the massed noses of students and staff.
"Keep still!" Hagrid whispered. "Do yeh want ‛em all to see you?"
He moaned. Hagrid dragged at the loose cloth as he shifted in his seat, and somehow managed to get the front of the robe to pull tightly against Snape's erection. Oh god, everybody'll see! he thought with one part of his mind, while another part was perfectly aware that he was quite safe. He began to wriggle, trying to get the pressure where he wanted it.
"Everyone's lookin' at the front, aren't they?" Hagrid whispered. "All lookin' at Black. Nobody's lookin' at yeh practic'ly wankin' yehself, are they?" He paused. "Probably. Yeh can't be sure."
"Oh..." Snape moaned.
"Yeh can feel me sittin' beside yeh."
He could. A leg like a warm tree-trunk began to rub up against him.
"Well, you're the perfessor, aren't yeh?"
"So are you," Snape retorted, confused.
"Yes, but it's more part of yeh... Sir," Hagrid added mischievously. "The book-learnin' an' that. It don't come easy to me. So I wouldn't be able to say, ‛no, stop.' I respect yeh."
"Respect me?" Snape echoed absently, caressing himself.
"I'd ‛ave to think yeh had some good reason that weren't so visible to someone without a good eddication," Hagrid went on reasonably. "I mean, I might not be able to think of a good reason for yeh to be rubbin' yeh bollocks in public, but that don't mean you can't."
He was far too worked-up to think of a reason for anything. He had a quite unreasonable desire to do it now, keep stroking his full balls until everything poured out and he collapsed. As if he wouldn't even have to touch his prick to do the job.
No, it wasn't really that he missed. He wanted more than that. Frustrating, really. All he really wanted was some more pressure to do the trick, some reminder that he wasn't alone, imaginary spectators or not. Oh, he could feel Hagrid's muscular leg pressing against him, such a terribly inadequate pressure, as if the heat was bleeding slowly out of him where they touched rather than filling him with what he needed.
"Want it, don't yeh," Hagrid murmured happily. "So do I. Always ready for yeh. Yeh're so beautiful."
Snape snorted sharply. Not even in a fantasy could he believe that.
Softly, Hagrid kissed him on an ear. It felt as if Hagrid's mouth was big enough to sweep over the whole side of his head. He felt almost delicate but not in the least afraid.
"Suck me?" he suggested in a low purr, reminded of how good a huge tongue would feel where he needed it.
"Look at me," Hagrid asked. "Look me in the face. All those people in the hall, and all yeh can see is me wantin' yeh."
Snape opened his eyes and looked down. Hagrid dropped to a crouch, and his big, serious face stared up at Snape with good honest lust. Even in front of all those people, Hagrid wasn't ashamed of him in the slightest. Licking his lips rather deliberately, Hagrid reached forward and fondled him.
Undoing his robes impatiently, Snape pulled at himself.
"Don't ‛urt yehself, Sev," said Hagrid. "Be gentle with it."
Snape wrapped his fist round the base of his prick.
"Everyone's watchin' yeh do that. Fingers squeezin' it..."
Snape moaned softly.
He opened his eyes, imagining the horrified and uncomprehending expressions of the audience, and knowing that Hagrid's broad, kind face would show nothing but lust and friendliness.
When the tip of a tongue curled softly round the tip of his prick, he knew he was going to melt. Lovely, lovely tongue, working its way round him until he was nearly faint with delight. The tongue went away, only in order to come back and bathe him from root to tip before settling down to spiral round him again. He'd never particularly thought of the role of the lips in sex-play before, but with someone this size, the lip could cover the whole tip of his prick, giving it the gentlest sucking pressure.
He was, he thought vaguely, very lucky. Hagrid was straining every muscle and nerve to give him pleasure, and all he had to do was enjoy it.
Hagrid rocked him lovingly between his huge hands (I should worry about bruises... Snape thought dimly) and tongued him with exquisite tenderness.
This orgasm wasn't going to explode, just melt, which was fine with him. The imaginary crowd had vanished, which meant there was just him, and Hagrid, and Hagrid's tongue... the thought of that tongue tipped him neatly over the edge, and he dissolved, sighing and squirming, like a melt-in-the-mouth sweet rocked tenderly by the biggest tongue in the world.
Well, why not? he thought lazily, waiting for the last stinging-sweet aftershock to subside. It is the biggest tongue in the world, and it's all for me.
"Nice," said Hagrid, "the look on yeh face."
"I'm not surprised." If this grin is as big on the outside, it's a wonder my face hasn't cracked... "Come here."
Hagrid did. A long kiss, (tastes of me, I suppose. Sour-of course), and he lay down on the bed to finish the job for Hagrid, hands and mouth slowly rubbing their way up the length of Hagrid's prick, doing him uncomplicated service until he soaked both of them. Ah, that's it, he thought, wet and foolishly happy,
"Yeh know, it's your turn tomorrow. Teachin' ‛em about sex. Least yeh've been doin' yeh best to find out about it."
Even that thought couldn't cast a pall of gloom over the occasion.
Snape set a certain preparatory size-modification spell on Hagrid with a flick of his wand, so that either of them could trigger it later. At least a fuck would give him something to look forward to through the appalling hour or so ahead.
There was no way this was going to be other than a very painful penance, he thought. He strode in with his most ominous sweep of robes, speaking as he moved as usual (in a no-doubt-hopeless attempt to get the business over with earlier than he might otherwise).
"Professor..." (his mouth twisted on the courtesy title) "Black has dealt as one might have expected with the question of sex for those males of a reproductive disposition. It is my regrettable duty to perform the same service for the rest of you...gentlemen."
"First question." Snape raised the parchment rather theatrically in front of his eyes and read, "Do queers want to be women? EC and VG." He groaned silently to himself, and began, "A lot of people of low education and intelligence confuse transvestism, transsexualism and homosexuality. I would advise any of you who can inform yourselves better by reading to do so."
He saw Malfoy glaring at his ‛friends'. No doubt they wouldn't have dared raise such an issue to him, even if they'd thought of it.
"Second question. Can a homosexual male perform with a woman if necessary? DM." He sighed. "Possible but inadvisable. Whether one is being pushed by one's father, the woman, or society itself, such behaviour is generally useless. Eventually someone finds out, and all hell breaks loose." He sighed. He hadn't made that mistake himself, but his mother had been very respectable, and had made it clear that a marriage would be expected at a certain time. For years, he didn't even refer to the question of women. When he was nineteen, he had explained that such an assumption was incorrect, feeling that his prolonged virginity might cushion the blow somewhat by making his mother used to the idea that he wouldn't get involved with a woman. It hadn't.
This had only confirmed him in self-protective celibacy.
Draco looked confused. Oh, of course...
"The more ambitiously dynastic families may try to convince one that personal involvement is unnecessary, but unless everyone-the girl, the boy, both sets of families-have exactly the same attitude, painful scenes will result."
"Third question, ‛how does one know if one wants girls or boys?' PP." He glared round the hall impartially, remembering not to look at Pansy Parkinson (or Padma Patil). After a moment, he continued, "I will now make it quite clear that I will not be making any juicy revelations about my personal life. This is not open to negotiation." He looked at them coldly. "That said, the only person with this all-important information is the person in question. You."
"Ducking the question," one of the older Hufflepuffs said. It wasn't the insult he minded, as much as the fact the girl had almost used a normal speaking voice.
He glared at her. "Did you have an observation to make, Thomason?" He kept the glare going, and she said, "No, sir".
"In fact, that is not an evasion of the question." He paused. He meant to say, "Sex, like death and digestion, is not something you can delegate," but years of experience hinted that the average schoolchild was certainly going to take that the wrong way. Instead, he said, "It's not a question of liking his face, but wanting to suck his cock, as someone I knew used to say. One's a question of aesthetics, the other's a question of sexual desire. If you can't cope with the less dignified parts of the human body, maybe you should take up a less challenging hobby, like gardening or cake decoration."
Malfoy sniggered, of course.
"Next question," Snape went on, thinking, the little sods are too busy thinking about the word ‛cock' coming out of the Potions master's mouth to pay proper attention. He unrolled a scrap of parchment. ‛Does it hurt, taking it up the arse?' This gem of knowledge-seeking comes to you courtesy of a squiggle which looks like RW crossed out." At least that spreads the misery a little, he thought, looking forbiddingly at the Gryffindors in the front row. "The flippant answer is, ‛Ask your brothers'. The serious answer is, ‛Only if you're doing it wrong'."
He could hear the words ‛I'll kill him! I'll kill him!' forced through gritted teeth, and the sounds of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger advocating reason.
"But he's saying my brothers are...sluts," muttered Ron.
"Mr Weasley, I would never suggest your elder siblings are turning their entrepreneurial talents to prostitution. They are far too devoted to each other to do any such thing." That, of course, went straight past the younger members of the audience. The older ones chuckled unfeelingly. This cheered Snape up a lot: after years of being the butt of one or other Weasley's jokes (and having to pretend not to hear them) it was nice to turn the tables. And it was school gossip for years (which meant almost certainly untrue) that the twins were doing it, so it wasn't as if he'd invented the rumour.
Weasley put his hand up. "What does it feel like, sir? If you know."
Evidently Black had told them, delightedly, that Snape was a virgin, without passing on the rest of the gossip about his losing it to Hagrid.
He considered. None of your bloody business! had the merit of being true, but unfortunately it was bound to give the brat the impression that he'd hit a nerve and Snape was deeply ashamed of being a virgin.
Well, there was always the truth. "Lubrication and preparation," he said clinically, "minimises discomfort. There are books available to the older students. Messing about when you don't know what you're doing probably will be painful. You don't get House points for suffering unnecessary pain."
"That's answered my question," said Weasley in a loud whisper. "He's got all that out of a book. He's never done It."
"I was trying to protect the weaker stomachs in our audience from discovering too much about my sex life," said Snape freezingly.
"Definitely never done it," whispered Weasley.
"Mr Weasley, both good taste and the law prevent me from demonstrating to you personally the extent of my practical knowledge. On the other hand, nothing at all prevents me from making insolent pupils clean all the filthiest cauldrons in the dungeon with half an inch of dirty rag. Your choice."
He sneered. I'm certainly not going to tell you that Hagrid kisses me on the back of the neck, and strokes me, and slides it in until the only thing that hurts is the thought that eventually this will have to stop...
"Next question." Snape unrolled another piece of parchment. "Are there any sexual difficulties particular to wizards? HG." He was surprised. She was so irritating face-to-face that he often forgot she was nearly as bright as she thought she was.
"An interesting question from Miss Granger," For once, he let the pause say for him, and continued: "Muggles only have disease and pregnancy and abortion and prostitution to worry about. Wizards can reach unheard-of pinnacles of catastrophic mismanagement."
"Like what?" came a bored growl from Black.
"Polyjuice. Temperature charms. Lubrication spells. Opening spells. Size management spells..."
He glared Hagrid silent by sheer force of will, trying to communicate: yes, I know we do those often. We're mature, consenting adults of two different species. That's not what I'm talking about here.
"Have it your way, Sev," Hagrid rumbled under his breath.
Snape, who fully intended to have it his way, as frequently as possible, as soon as he wasn't at work, ignored the comment.
His audience looked blank. Black opened his mouth.
"For the hard-of-thinking, and their dogs, I shall elucidate further," Snape snapped, getting his retaliation in first.
"Several accidents may result from use of Polyjuice Potion."
"What sort of accidents, sir?" someone asked, inevitably.
"For example, do not get so caught up in the flow of events that you have a long, civilised conversation with your object of desire over a glass or two of wine during the all-important hour you hold your form. Your object of desire may not realise what's happening at first (‛Sirius, why is your hair flickering from long to short like that?' a twenty-years-past voice in his mind repeated) but he will certainly discover the truth in short order. While you are sitting there, slightly drunk, thinking kind and pleasant thoughts about him, he will be thinking uncharitable thoughts about the snake-in-the-grass worming his way into his company. Just as you put your glass down and prepare to make a move, full of warmth and desire, he will throw you on the ground, spit in your face and beat you up, then tie you up until he can get his three best friends to beat you up, one of whom takes it very personally that you disguised yourself as him."
"Have you any personal experience of this, sir?" asked a fifth-year Hufflepuff, politely.
"No, of course not!" snapped Snape. He saw Black open his mouth, and continued hastily, "That is not the worst that can happen. Consider a temporary sex-change under Polyjuice, if you did not allow enough time. Changing back in the midst of the action is bound to be at least uncomfortable and probably painful, and if any of you Polyjuice into a woman and may end up pregnant, it is not unheard of for the wizard in question to end up pregnant as a man."
"There have been a few wizards who made very good mothers..." came a shrill voice from the front.
"I'm not speaking of parental instinct as much as anatomical plausibility. Have you any idea how much effort came into concluding the pregnancies, Granger? Three of them came to term successfully without killing the patient."
He paused. In fact there had been one actual death (of a patient who had taken stupid risks), three carried-to-term and quite a lot of spontaneous or assisted abortions. But a worst-case scenario was always good at making sure people thought before (or instead of) doing something.
"This involves a good deal of effort on the part of the patient and everyone around him," Snape resumed. "He has a special diet, to say nothing of the rearrangement of the normal plumbing."
He paused for the audience to look disgusted on cue.
"Teams of trained mediwizards," he went on. "Experimental Potions: some of the pain-control drugs work differently on women and men. Experimental healing techniques. Considering all the normal internal organs have to be shifted about, shall I mention the difficulty of performing a Caesarean section on a patient without a uterus?"
A shudder ran through the audience.
Well, actually the patient had a bodged-up temporary uterus, but I'd like you to think about the difficulty of finding somewhere a baby could be put in a place that wasn't designed for it.
"So, Polyjuice is to be used carefully or avoided. Other pitfalls include Transfiguration. Transfiguring flesh is not a good idea, especially if flustered. Trained medical professionals will get you back to the way you ought to be, if they can figure out how. They will certainly find your predicament funny, and you will certainly find it embarrassing and painful."
"Other magical disaster-areas? Cleaning charms can be misapplied." He thought back to a brief flirtation with Muggle cleaning methods to deal with particularly intransigent grime. "Think Brillo."
Longbottom put his hand up. Snape ignored him. After a moment, he could hear Granger explaining what he meant.
"Temperature spells for warming lubrication should be applied carefully before the lubricant is applied."
He paused again, to think of fresh disasters. "Does anybody need me to list Things Not To Do With A Wand or Things Not To Do With A Penis?"
The audience erupted in stifled sniggers.
Snape sighed. "In that case, we'll go on to Spells Not To Cast During Sex. Lubrication," he suggested, ticking off on his fingers, "enlargement, Alohomora, Sonorus."
Granger put her hand up. "How could people use Alohomora or Sonorus during sex, sir?"
"It has been known for a foolish young wizard to consider Alohomora for stretching an unready partner." He paused. "Unfortunately, performed upon living beings, it has a tendency to open the bowels, which is not an effect you require in bed." He paused. "If this is an effect any of you require in bed, I do not need or wish to know about it. As for Sonorus, people have tried for a ‛humming' effect, but it isn't particularly efficient."
Granger blushed fiercely, but put her hand up again. "Isn't lubrication useful, in some cases?"
"Yes," agreed Snape, "but performed carelessly at the time it has a tendency to soak the bed without landing on one's partner. The proper effect is to make your own Potions (unscented, please) beforehand. Longbottom, you are excused from this. If you ever (Merlin forbid) need such a thing, apply to me and I'll make it myself. It's bound to be less destructive."
"The last warning is, Do not cast Enlarge during sex. I trust I do not have to explain that further. In sum, if you are casting spells during sex it will have a deleterious effect on your concentration. You are likely either to get the spells wrong or the sex wrong. Think about that," he ordered, more in hope than expectation.
"Most magical artefacts are not designed to be used in a sexual context. For example, self-stirring spoons are not a bedroom accessory, and I should imagine the action is completely wrong even for a sadomasochist. Before we leave this disquieting subject, I would like to point out just one more embarrassing example." He paused, fixing Harry Potter with a glare.
"I seem to remember an incident with your father, Potter, and a missing Golden Snitch. The place for a Snitch is on the playing-field, and not in the dunge-er, bedroom."
Just for once, thought Snape, feeling as if a dozen belated Christmases full of alchemy sets and spellbooks had come along at once, he's entirely speechless and completely embarrassed. He had enough mercy not to mention the conversation he'd overheard, about James wanting to see what the fluttery wings felt like in bed. He's been orphaned already. He doesn't really want to have to consider his father in a sexual context.
He paused. He was a Slytherin, after all.
I can always hold any other secrets over him later, if necessary.
"Next, I will mention a point that any of you may need as a preventative against disease or pregnancy if you have anything to do with Muggles in your future sex-lives. I will demonstrate putting on a condom."
The audience looked extremely worried, apart from Hagrid, who just looked curious.
Snape picked up a banana from the fruit bowl on the table and deftly inserted it into a condom, thankful that he'd practiced this activity in advance when he'd thought of it.
Longbottom still looked worried, and raised his hand.
"Yes, Longbottom?" said Snape wearily.
"Do I have to use a banana in real life, sir?"
"In your case, it might be advantageous."
Everybody except Longbottom laughed.
Snape picked up the last question, with relief. "Does masturbation make you go blind? The older boys say that's a load of...." He paused. "B-o-l-o-x is not the correct spelling. It has two ‛l's and a ‛c' and a ‛k' instead of an ‛x'. Five points from Gryffindor."
A hand went up. "But I saw Malfoy write that on the board, sir!"
"Ten points from Gryffindor for telling tales. .25 points from Slytherin for misspelling," he added. He noticed Hagrid eyeing him admiringly. Hagrid might not approve of the healthy glow I get from satisfied malice, he thought, but he likes the result.
"Incidentally," he added, "our illiterate Gryffindor has the right idea: masturbation does not make you go blind, as most of you should know by now."
Longbottom put his hand up.
"...otherwise, most of the school's post-pubertal male population would be staggering round with white sticks by this time," Snape completed.
Cadderback, a fifth-year Ravenclaw, put a hand up and politely asked, "The other Professors..." The straight ones, Snape filled in without effort, "have told us what boys and girls do. What are the rarer things people do?" Typically for his House, he wanted more information than he already had.
Obligingly, Snape tried to think of the less-common options. "Transvestism, fetishism, bestiality..."
"Doing it with animals is crool!" shouted Hagrid.
Using a few rarely-encountered terms, Snape began to enumerate possible sexual acts.
Granger was rather pale. He'd hoped to dissuade people without them really realising what he was talking about, but that didn't work on Granger.
Dumbledore said, "They really do not need to know that at this stage in their lives, Severus."
Carefully running back through the list of examples in his mind, Snape examined ‛urolagnia', ‛algolagnia' and ‛polyiterophilia'.
He nodded slightly at Dumbledore. They probably didn't need to know about the more recherche corners of the sexual repertoire at this stage.
"All you need to know at this stage is, if you're not comfortable with something and don't even know how to spell it, it may be a good idea to leave it alone."
Granger put her hand up again. "So you don't do those things, sir?" she asked.
Snape was about to snap something vicious, when he took a second glance at her. Most pupils would have meant to be insolent, but she looked worried and enquiring, preparing to click whatever he answered into place in her mental model of the world.
He sighed. "My preferences generally aren't that extreme. They might include frottage, fellatio, onanism, sodomy, and intercrural intercourse rather than the rarer options I was listing just now."
Hagrid smiled at him, no doubt for not being nasty to Granger. Snape had never had much time for the pastoral-care side of teaching, and he'd never coddled her as the other teachers did, but (apart from the necessities of spying) he refused to spread misinformation. There was enough of that about without him.
A hand went up. "Do we have to do them all at once, sir? The frot-thingy and so on?"
"Only if you are very lucky indeed and your partner very unlucky, Longbottom."
The audience mainly looked confused. Dumbledore had been smiling at him, and was now beginning to look irritated, probably because of his remark to Longbottom.
Hagrid was still smiling. Snape felt a tiny spot of warmth that started in his chest and spread downwards. Did Hagrid understand any of the words he'd used? Sodomy, perhaps. He wished Hagrid could take him away from the hell that was teaching and fuck him legless. Now.
Black shouted, "Bet you've never done any of it, Snape! All out of books, can't even see Hagrid putting up with much of that. Even if he feels sorry for you."
Snape glanced down at the table, fuming. All the scraps of parchment were definitely in the ‛done' pile. Good.
"Unless there are any more stupid questions?" he asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow. "No?"
Snape strode abruptly forward, hoping to make it to the door before being mobbed. He nearly managed it: a small Hufflepuff grabbed his sleeve and said, "Thanks for all the ideas, sir, I never knew it was possible to do all those things with magic and sex."
A distinct queue was forming in front of him.
Furious, Snape dragged his sleeve out of the boy's grip.
Could he get away with kicking his way out, or just trying to glare a path through them? He hadn't reached any conclusion when a large, Hagrid-shaped wave broke through the crowd.
"Yeh were good, Sev!" crowed Hagrid, beaming. He bent down, and in a foghorn version of a discreet whisper, murmured, "Dunno what all them words meant, but it makes me want to fuck yeh rigid. Even more than usual."
Before Snape could make any attempt to escape, he was in Hagrid's arms, and in the middle of a deep, hard kiss, with a big hand groping his arse. That, he recalled dimly, was how this whole thing had started.
He held on, and let Hagrid carry him, barely aware of doors opening, children getting out of the way, and twigs scraping past his face. The cottage loomed up very quickly: Hagrid was good at getting past obstacles as if they barely existed.
Fang went flying from the bed as Hagrid nudged him slightly, and then Snape was on the bed, on his back, naked (Hagrid's control of simple spells was getting a lot better), and Hagrid was scooping up some of the lubricating Potion that felt so very good for this purpose, so that even a half-Giant's fingers could just slide...and slide... and...
Hagrid removed his fingers, took up his umbrella-wand again, and triggered the size-changing spell.
A half-Giant's prick, feeling comfortably enough like a normally-large human one, began to slide gently in where the fingers had been.
The pain of being opened-breached-spread-receded quickly, and Snape grunted sharply, pushing against Hagrid to suggest now get started in earnest!
Hagrid thrust deeply, and set to work in earnest, breathing hard, hunching down a bit to rain delicate kisses on Snape's shoulders as he fucked.
Snape, who didn't really mind such little refinements as long as he got what he wanted, choked out a cry as he felt a hot gush of come filling his guts. He felt soaked and slutty and full, working himself desperately on that erection while it was still big enough to give him... He needed it so, couldn't stop even if Hagrid fell asleep this second, felt a massive hand forcing a space between them.
That hand was monstrous, could probably mutilate him if all that power wasn't so (he gasped sharply) controlled that it just gripped... (oh, perfect!) and he pulsed and pulsed and slowed and... now he could stop, now he'd had enough.
Hagrid curved around him like the sky.
"Go to sleep, Sev."
What a good idea...
Snape woke up enough to remember.
"Damn," he said, without heat. "I'll have to go and apologise to Albus for unprofessional conduct."
Hagrid chuckled deeply and kissed him on the shoulder. "Yeh were out of lesson-time, as the talk had just finished. Not yeh fault at all."
Snape considered that. "Where would I get to in life if I..." (he paused to yawn) "...went about Not Blaming People?" he demanded as indignantly as he could manage.
"Come to that," Hagrid rumbled, "yeh could always blame me. For leadin' yeh astray, like."
"Shan't!" Snape said mutinously. "Haven't got the energy." He fell asleep again.