Pairing: sort of Snape/Lockhart
Summary: "We need to have sex right now."
"We need to have sex right now."
Snape looked at the normally vacant-eyed DADA instructor and wondered when he'd started hallucinating. Waving his wand almost negligently at the blond hovering over his shoulder, he muttered a few words, expecting the mirage to disappear.
Instead, the curls did.
So did the rosy glow on his cheeks, the inviting shine on his lips, and the artfully applied blackblue kohl lining his eyes.
Lockhart squawked, but unfortunately, the spell used to dispel his glamour left his actual physical presence untouched. Snape's brow rose slowly as he took in the sight of Gilderoy Lockhart, mousy brown hair falling limply past his shoulders, slightly chapped lips parted, somewhat pudgy body practically toe-tip with tension, and the same standard vacant expression in his non-sparkling eyes.
"Oh," Snape sighed, "you're real after all. Blast. Here I was hoping you were simply the aftereffects of the house elves using too much spice in the meat at luncheon."
"We need to have sex RIGHT NOW," Lockhart reiterated, his normally bell-like voice chiming somewhat out of tune. It would appear the glamour he'd wrapt about himself extended to all outward manifestation of his personage, including his voice. Snape smirked.
"You sound like a bag of rusty nails rubbing together, and why on God's green -" he glanced out at the summer-brown garden visible from the staff room window -"ish earth would I want to have sex with you, you pathetic git?"
"Because if you don't -"
"Please tell me you'll die if I don't, and I'll voluntarily wear a chastity belt around you for all the rest of my days."
"YOU will die."
Not what he'd expected. Snape blinked at him, rather resembling his house symbol left too long out in the sun. "And at the feet of what calamity should I place the blame for this curse?"
"Huh?" Lockhart stuttered, proper grammar being a bit beyond him even on his better days, of which this was not one.
"How will not shagging you kill me?" Snape asked bluntly. The dull eyes staring up at him nearly gleamed with relief.
"Well, you see, there's this curse, I was only going to show the seventh year students something a little more daring -"
"God help us," Snape muttered. "Did you bone all of them?"
"No, I only need to bone you," Lockhart rambled, confused by the interruption.
"No, no," Snape growled, "Boned, as in removed the bones from, in the manner you turned young Potter's arm to jelly ... never mind. What happened?" Might as well discover the worst of the damage before taking it off to Dumbledore and having the Headmaster throw Lockhart in the dungeons.
No. Wait. He didn't want Lockhart in the dungeons ... distracted by his own mental wandering, an unusual situation often engendered by Lockhart's presence, he missed the next ream of exposition, tuning in to hear Lockhart proclaim, "And when it manifested, it was HUNGRY, and wanted to eat me -"
"Poor thing must have been starved. Or have terminally poor taste." Snape really couldn't help himself. Lockhart ignored him and plowed on.
"and when I threw a counter curse at it all it did was make it horny -"
It was a task not to laugh aloud, but Snape was strong, and managed. Barely.
"so it licked me, then it coughed up a hairball roughly the size of a Muggle ground transport -"
Losing the battle, Snape cackled.
"-then it raised its snout and sniffed deeply and moaned and took off for your classroom -"
Laughter died abruptly at the awful thought of all his precious potions being destroyed by one of Lockhart's misfires running amok. He rose to rush off and protect his property when the door to the staff room crashed open and a ... a ... well, it could only be called a Thing, really ... stomped into the room. Snape stared at it in disbelief, Lockhart's babble continuing to rush over his ears.
" - but I told it that it couldn't have you as you already belonged to someone and wizards mated for life -"
That piece of inspired fiction caused Snape to swivel about and stare at Lockhart with much the same distracted disbelief he'd been using ineffectively on the intruder. Lockhart smiled weakly at him, no trace of sparkle to his teeth.
"-and if it shagged you you'd die, and it didn't seem to want that, so it said it would hold off if it could watch." Lockhart gulped great lungsful of air as he stood there, half-pleased to have finally finished his tale, half terrified Snape would simply hit him with an Unspeakable Curse and finish him off.
Tempting as it was, that wouldn't get rid of the eight foot tall, magenta-furred, tan-spotted monstrosity drooling in the doorway. Snape glanced over his shoulder. It was shuffling closer. He drew his wand out again.
Tried to incinerate it. It gurgled happily and played with the tufts of fur on its limbs as they charred to a crisp. Tried to crush it from existence. It stood there stolidly. Tried to fling it away through the space/time continuum to a place far away and long ago, but hard as the vacuum in space sucked, the creature still stood there. Half the staff room furniture disappeared, and he heard a voice scream dimly, "Q! I told you about playing with underdeveloped species!" for a moment before the fissure collapsed.
Snape looked back at Lockhart. Who had been busy whilst Snape was attempting to do away with the creature. Busy getting naked. Snape blanched. Raised his wand again and restored the glamour that hid the unsightliness that was Lockhart at his unlovely natural best.
"So," Snape clarified slowly, both for Lockhart, looking pathetic and plucked, and for the creature, looking disgusting and hopeful, "this monster you summoned wants to have sex with me, and you convinced it that such an act would kill me, but that I should have sex with you, and that would satisfy it and save me from a fate, er, worse than death. Correct?"
Lockhart nodded so hard his neck joints popped, and everything on his body jiggled. Snape looked down, shuddered, and glanced over at the monster. Who was now staring at Lockhart in much the same way he'd earlier been staring at Snape. A grin spread slowly over Snape's entire face.
An evil one, of course.
Without another word, he swooped over, caught Lockhart's robes and underthings beneath his arm, and slid behind the creature, making it out the door with neither Wizard nor Monster able to stop him. Raising his wand from the safety of the hall, he belted out a security lock spell. The door slammed shut, leaving a naked Lockhart at the mercy of a rampaging beast. From the ensuing yelps and snarls, many loud enough to rattle the stone walls, neither was particularly pleased with his maneuver. In moments, however, the snarls were replaced by coos and moans, from the monster, and still more yelps, from Lockhart.
Humming under his breath, Snape hung a "Closed by the Ministry for Psychic Cleansing" sign on the staff room door. Making his way to the dungeon, he ditched Lockhart's gaudy robes in the first floor womens' toilet, leaving Moaning Myrtle to giggle over them. Once safely in his rooms, he glanced over at the man sitting at his desk, reading quietly. One shaggy brown brow raised at him in an almost perfect imitation of Snape himself.
"What's up, love?" his secret amour asked, amusement lacing his voice.
"Lockhart's not," Snape grinned, "and I am."
With that, he and the werewolf retired to the backroom for a little interspecies bonding. But that's a tail ... a tale ... for another day.