It Happened on a Tuesday
Pairing: Snape/McGonagall
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places and ideas do not belong to me.
Summary: Three ordinary Tuesdays in the life of Minerva McGonagall that changed her life forever.
A/N: For![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92)
diana_hawthorne. I do believe it's her birthday =)
You and I can share the silence
Finding comfort together
The way old friends do
-The Way Old Friends Do - ABBA
Minerva sank gratefully into the Staff room armchair, her breath escaping her in an deep sigh. It had been a long day. Another long day in a series of long days and she couldn't see them coming to an end anytime soon. She would have normally thought that saying she was exhausted was an exaggeration, but tonight she felt it to her bones. But then, war did that to a person.
She eyed the only other occupant of the staff room curiously. Severus Snape, now there was an interesting addition to the team, a former Death Eater - if that wasn't a contradiction in terms she didn't know what was. One didn't simply abandon the side of these lunatics, even when they were as good as dead. He had won Albus' trust somehow, God only knows how, but if Albus trusted him then she supposed she did as well. He'd barely spoken two words to her since he took up his post two weeks ago, but when he had they had been polite, if a little bit cold, and she couldn't say that, other than his former allegiance, she'd found a reason to dislike him. The others had, of course, but she appreciated his directness and disdain for social niceties - they certainly cut through the confusion.
A cup was gently placed down on the table in front of her, drawing her out of her thoughts. In her contemplation of him, she hadn't even noticed Severus approach her. She was getting slack.
"It'll help," he said quietly, and she couldn't help but notice the way his cheeks flushed slightly. She'd given thought, of course, as to why he wouldn't speak to any of them. She remembered him as a boy, though he'd been just as surly he certainly hadn't thought twice about letting his opinions known. She wondered what had changed, and wondered if it was shame.
"Thank you," she muttered softly as she watched him return to his seat. Taking a sip, she realised it was particularly strong coffee laced with whiskey and in that moment she decided, shame or not, she liked him.
And after fights and words of violence
We make up with each other
The way old friends do
Minerva fell back into the winged chair with a thud. Grimmauld Place, she thought with a frown, casting a glance around at the decor. It was as filthy as the name suggested and even the armchairs were uncomfortable. Not that she thought any of them would be resting easily in their beds tonight.
She thought of them, Molly and Arthur, Poppy and Filius and, if she was any judge of character at all, Remus and Sirius; of how they would be clinging to each other and finding comfort in each other's arms, and she envied them. It had been years since she'd had someone's arms to fall into, to lean into for comfort, since her husband had died in the first war.
She thought of Harry, alone at the Dursley's with the terrible things he had seen; of Albus, alone in his office, probably pacing if not staring into the fire or sucking mournfully on a sherbet lemon. She thought of Severus and the terrible things that they had said to each other. She was scared, she wasn't ashamed to admit that, and she had looked to Severus for comfort, expecting him to be his usual pillar of steadfastness and stoicism. What she had seen in his eyes had scared her, scared her enough to attack him, to lash out at him with her words and now she so desperately regretted it.
The door flew open with a slam, and she was surprised to see Severus there, beautiful in his rage and billowing robes, but then she supposed he was surprised to see her as well. He nodded curtly at her, too polite to ignore her but a blatant indication of the rage he was no doubt still feeling. At least he hadn't ignored her completely, she thought with a surge of optimism, even as her hope that he would ignore their fight, put it down to her fear and think nothing else of it, faded. He fell into the chair opposite her with a grunt and let his eyes close, the events of the day having took their toll.
She took the time to study his face, to see past the weariness and the bitterness, to the man underneath who so few took the time to see. He wasn't an attractive man, she thought absently, but he was so much more than that. His face held a pride that had been questioned and attacked so many times and by so many people, his parents, school bullies, the Dark Lord. But every time he got back up and carried on. There was a kind of beauty, a kind of wonder in that that was so much more valuable than a pretty face. His eyes, when they were open, held such an intelligence, such a consciousness; it took her breath away to see just how very alive he still was.
He opened his eyes to see her staring at him, and he quirked his eyebrow in question.
"You're not a coward, Severus," she said, referring to her earlier comment, and his scowl returned. "You're the bravest man I've ever known."
He sighed, and suddenly he looked so much more than his thirty eight years. "I'm not that brave, Minerva," he said slowly.
She felt the muscles in her forehead contract into a frown before willing it away. It would not do to have him think she was judging him. This man, truly the bravest and strongest man she had ever met, was crumbling before her and she didn't know how to help him, had no idea which words were the right ones. She searched his face for inspiration and was almost overwhelmed by the pain she saw there. The things he must have seen, the things he must have had to do. She truly did not know how he carried on. As she studied him, he dropped his head into his hands. If she did not know him as well as she did, she might have thought he was crying. It was still the most vulnerable action she could imagine him performing.
Dropping to her knees by his chair, she ran her hands along his legs.
"Severus," she whispered, trying to drag him away from his melancholy thoughts. "Severus, listen to me."
Reluctantly, he lifted his head.
"Of course you're afraid, we all are. There's no shame in it, and God knows you've got more to fear than the rest of us. How you force yourself to go to his side every time he calls... I don't know how you do it. I don't know that I could."
"It's my penance," he whispered, his voice rough, like it was costing him to speak.
"You were just a child, Severus. You've given so very much more than you took, I hope you know that."
A solitary tear escaped, running down his cheek. She wasn't sure what made her do it, doubted she would ever be able to rationally explain it, she only knew that at that moment it felt right. Pulling herself up slightly, she kissed the tear away.
His breath escaped him in a surprised rush as he leaned into her touch. Turning his head towards hers, they took comfort in sharing the same breath for a few moments, their faces mere centimetres apart. He took a moment to gouge the expression in her eyes, to make sure his advances wouldn't be unwelcome before he closed the distance between them.
Some might have thought he wouldn't know how to kiss, but he certainly wasn't out of practice. His lips were hard, his actions forceful. If the brush of his lips hadn't made her incapable of thought, it might have made her wonder just how much he had learned from the Death Eaters.
Minerva obliged when Severus dug his fingers into her shoulders in an attempt to pull her up onto his lap. She straddled his hips, fitting her legs in between his and the sides of the chair, and groaned at the way they fit together. It had been so long and it felt so good.
She removed their clothes with a flick of her hand. It was hardly the time for taking things slowly. She devoured every inch of him with her eyes, the muscles, the scars, and felt no shame as he did the same. She wouldn't hide herself from him.
Placing heated kisses on his neck, his chest, his nipples, the areas of his body that interested her most, she didn’t bother to worship every inch of him. She wasn't sure if they'd ever find the time for that, but the aching between them now demanded more immediate attention. She kissed and sucked and bit and revelled in every inch of skin she could get her hands on, determined to lose herself in the feeling.
Sliding down his body and back down onto her knees, she knelt in between his legs, tracing the sharp planes of his body with her fingers and tongue. His cock, long and thin, was hardly the biggest she'd ever seen but her mouth still watered at the sight of it. Sliding her hand roughly up and down his shaft, she took satisfaction from the grunts that tore from his throat, and used her other hands to cup his balls, before lowering her mouth and sucking the head into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she pulled him further into her mouth. It was hardly a loving caress, all teeth and tongue and pressure, but the way his hand tightened in her hair told her he didn't really mind.
"Stop, stop," he managed to gasp out, screwing his eyes shut in an effort to gain some control. Flinging himself out of the chair, he threw them both onto the floor, forced her legs open with his knee and settled himself between them. Not being as young as she used to be and unaccustomed to fucking on the floor, she threw her legs up to rest on the chair in an effort to make herself more comfortable.
He stared down at her, his eyes so intent on hers she wondered if he was using Legilimency and if she really wanted him in her head, before deciding it didn't really matter as long as he would hurry up; the ache between her thighs was practically a living thing and it was just dying to be scratched. He entered her so quickly and sharply she thought if she hadn't been so desperate for him he might have snapped her in two. He stilled for a moment, allowing her to adjust to the shape of him, before beginning his punishing rhythm, the way he threw his head back and groaned every time he pushed himself inside gave away his desperation. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder, wanting him closer, needing to feel him surrounding her.
She struggled to match his rhythm, but somehow that made it more perfect, the way they inexpertly slipped and bucked against each other, revelling in each other's moans as they both neared completion. Minerva came with a desperate cry, arching up to meet Severus' touch, her inner muscles clenching and her eyes rolling back as she rode out her orgasm. She forced herself to open her eyes when she sensed that Severus was about to come. He came with a grunt, thrusting into her one last time before stilling and falling against her, his weight crushing her into the floor.
They lay like that, sweaty, limp and sated, for what felt like an eternity, their heartbeats hammering hard against the backdrop of the silent room.
"You're a hero, a hero," she murmured after a few minutes when the power of speech, of thought, finally returned to her, hoping the message would eventually sink in.
A tear splashed onto her cheek. She wasn’t sure whether it was hers or his; nor was she sure that it mattered.
Times of joy and times of sorrow
We will always see it through
Oh I don't care what comes tomorrow
We can face it together
The way old friends do
Minerva stared at the bottle of scotch on her desk, a slight look of disbelief marring her features. She'd woken up that morning, that perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning, expecting to meet up with Severus later, to drink scotch, to play chess, to touch each other until they couldn't feel anymore, the way they always did when things got a little too much. Now she wasn't sure if she'd ever see him again. She hated him for what he'd done, but at the same time she understood. His meetings with Albus all that year, that haunted look he'd carried in his eyes since the beginning of term, suddenly they had made sense to her, and she hated them both for what thay'd done. For the lies, the secrets, but more than that she hated that she still loved them both. She saw their imperfections and she saw past them; Severus, so tortured by the mistakes he'd made, would have done anything for Albus, the man who'd given him a second chance, even if it meant killing him; and Albus was old, dying and tired of life anway, so what did it matter if he went before his time, if it meant he got to save the life of the young Severus Snape? She snorted indelicately at the thought. They were fools, both of them, and here she was, alone as always, left to pick up the pieces.
A knock at the door pulled her out of her bitter thoughts, and she looked at it blankly before realising what the sound was.
"Come," she called
"Remus," she greeted in surprise as the young man walked through the door. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard about what happened, I wanted to offer my condolences and see if there was anything I could do," he offered, his eyes showing his concern.
"Well, there's always things to be done, but sit down first. Could I tempt you to a..." her eyes fell on the scotch, "cup of tea?"
"Wouldn't go amiss, thank you," he replied, folding down into the chair in front of her desk.
How he had changed, she mused as she poured his tea. Gone was the slightly naive, worried little boy, and in his place was a jaded, already-greying man who had known too much loss and seen too much betrayal.
"I can't imagine how you must be feeling, Minerva, to lose such an old friend like that. You know there was always talk that you and Albus were...."
Minerva's eyes widened in surprise and she fought the urge not to laugh. She loved Albus dearly, but that didn't change the fact that he was older than God and gayer than a maypole.
Handing him his tea, she replied, "No, no there was never anything like that. He was my mentor and I loved him dearly but there was nothing more to it than that." She had loved him, she thought with a slight wince; best to start thinking in the past tense straight away, she thought practically.
"Hmm," he murmured thoughtfully as he took a sip of tea. "I still can't believe what Severus did. Just this summer I lectured Harry about being prejudiced against him when all this time... I had no idea he..."
Minerva took a sip of tea, glorifying in the way the scolding liquid burned the back of her throat. Remus wasn't to know, she told herself, he was just being kind, was just trying to help, even as he sat there and broke her heart with his words.
"None of us did," she said, the words stinging as they left her throat.
Taking another sip of tea, she studied the man berating Severus in front of her and part of her couldn't help but blame him. If Severus' time at school hadn't been so awful, perhaps he would never have joined the Death Eaters, perhaps none of this would have happened.
"Perhaps you could check that the dungeons are in order for me? I'm expecting Horace, he's checking on the Slytherins." Minerva asked, suddenly anxious to be alone.
"Of course, and once again... I'm so sorry for your loss," he said kindly as he left.
Perhaps not as sorry as you should be, Minerva thought before she could will the thought away. Burying her head in her hands, she attempted to think of all the arrangements that had to be made for the end of term and Albus' funeral, but all she could think of was Severus and how alone he must feel, and how sorry she was.
Pairing: Snape/McGonagall
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places and ideas do not belong to me.
Summary: Three ordinary Tuesdays in the life of Minerva McGonagall that changed her life forever.
A/N: For
diana_hawthorne. I do believe it's her birthday =) You and I can share the silence
Finding comfort together
The way old friends do
-The Way Old Friends Do - ABBA
Minerva sank gratefully into the Staff room armchair, her breath escaping her in an deep sigh. It had been a long day. Another long day in a series of long days and she couldn't see them coming to an end anytime soon. She would have normally thought that saying she was exhausted was an exaggeration, but tonight she felt it to her bones. But then, war did that to a person.
She eyed the only other occupant of the staff room curiously. Severus Snape, now there was an interesting addition to the team, a former Death Eater - if that wasn't a contradiction in terms she didn't know what was. One didn't simply abandon the side of these lunatics, even when they were as good as dead. He had won Albus' trust somehow, God only knows how, but if Albus trusted him then she supposed she did as well. He'd barely spoken two words to her since he took up his post two weeks ago, but when he had they had been polite, if a little bit cold, and she couldn't say that, other than his former allegiance, she'd found a reason to dislike him. The others had, of course, but she appreciated his directness and disdain for social niceties - they certainly cut through the confusion.
A cup was gently placed down on the table in front of her, drawing her out of her thoughts. In her contemplation of him, she hadn't even noticed Severus approach her. She was getting slack.
"It'll help," he said quietly, and she couldn't help but notice the way his cheeks flushed slightly. She'd given thought, of course, as to why he wouldn't speak to any of them. She remembered him as a boy, though he'd been just as surly he certainly hadn't thought twice about letting his opinions known. She wondered what had changed, and wondered if it was shame.
"Thank you," she muttered softly as she watched him return to his seat. Taking a sip, she realised it was particularly strong coffee laced with whiskey and in that moment she decided, shame or not, she liked him.
And after fights and words of violence
We make up with each other
The way old friends do
Minerva fell back into the winged chair with a thud. Grimmauld Place, she thought with a frown, casting a glance around at the decor. It was as filthy as the name suggested and even the armchairs were uncomfortable. Not that she thought any of them would be resting easily in their beds tonight.
She thought of them, Molly and Arthur, Poppy and Filius and, if she was any judge of character at all, Remus and Sirius; of how they would be clinging to each other and finding comfort in each other's arms, and she envied them. It had been years since she'd had someone's arms to fall into, to lean into for comfort, since her husband had died in the first war.
She thought of Harry, alone at the Dursley's with the terrible things he had seen; of Albus, alone in his office, probably pacing if not staring into the fire or sucking mournfully on a sherbet lemon. She thought of Severus and the terrible things that they had said to each other. She was scared, she wasn't ashamed to admit that, and she had looked to Severus for comfort, expecting him to be his usual pillar of steadfastness and stoicism. What she had seen in his eyes had scared her, scared her enough to attack him, to lash out at him with her words and now she so desperately regretted it.
The door flew open with a slam, and she was surprised to see Severus there, beautiful in his rage and billowing robes, but then she supposed he was surprised to see her as well. He nodded curtly at her, too polite to ignore her but a blatant indication of the rage he was no doubt still feeling. At least he hadn't ignored her completely, she thought with a surge of optimism, even as her hope that he would ignore their fight, put it down to her fear and think nothing else of it, faded. He fell into the chair opposite her with a grunt and let his eyes close, the events of the day having took their toll.
She took the time to study his face, to see past the weariness and the bitterness, to the man underneath who so few took the time to see. He wasn't an attractive man, she thought absently, but he was so much more than that. His face held a pride that had been questioned and attacked so many times and by so many people, his parents, school bullies, the Dark Lord. But every time he got back up and carried on. There was a kind of beauty, a kind of wonder in that that was so much more valuable than a pretty face. His eyes, when they were open, held such an intelligence, such a consciousness; it took her breath away to see just how very alive he still was.
He opened his eyes to see her staring at him, and he quirked his eyebrow in question.
"You're not a coward, Severus," she said, referring to her earlier comment, and his scowl returned. "You're the bravest man I've ever known."
He sighed, and suddenly he looked so much more than his thirty eight years. "I'm not that brave, Minerva," he said slowly.
She felt the muscles in her forehead contract into a frown before willing it away. It would not do to have him think she was judging him. This man, truly the bravest and strongest man she had ever met, was crumbling before her and she didn't know how to help him, had no idea which words were the right ones. She searched his face for inspiration and was almost overwhelmed by the pain she saw there. The things he must have seen, the things he must have had to do. She truly did not know how he carried on. As she studied him, he dropped his head into his hands. If she did not know him as well as she did, she might have thought he was crying. It was still the most vulnerable action she could imagine him performing.
Dropping to her knees by his chair, she ran her hands along his legs.
"Severus," she whispered, trying to drag him away from his melancholy thoughts. "Severus, listen to me."
Reluctantly, he lifted his head.
"Of course you're afraid, we all are. There's no shame in it, and God knows you've got more to fear than the rest of us. How you force yourself to go to his side every time he calls... I don't know how you do it. I don't know that I could."
"It's my penance," he whispered, his voice rough, like it was costing him to speak.
"You were just a child, Severus. You've given so very much more than you took, I hope you know that."
A solitary tear escaped, running down his cheek. She wasn't sure what made her do it, doubted she would ever be able to rationally explain it, she only knew that at that moment it felt right. Pulling herself up slightly, she kissed the tear away.
His breath escaped him in a surprised rush as he leaned into her touch. Turning his head towards hers, they took comfort in sharing the same breath for a few moments, their faces mere centimetres apart. He took a moment to gouge the expression in her eyes, to make sure his advances wouldn't be unwelcome before he closed the distance between them.
Some might have thought he wouldn't know how to kiss, but he certainly wasn't out of practice. His lips were hard, his actions forceful. If the brush of his lips hadn't made her incapable of thought, it might have made her wonder just how much he had learned from the Death Eaters.
Minerva obliged when Severus dug his fingers into her shoulders in an attempt to pull her up onto his lap. She straddled his hips, fitting her legs in between his and the sides of the chair, and groaned at the way they fit together. It had been so long and it felt so good.
She removed their clothes with a flick of her hand. It was hardly the time for taking things slowly. She devoured every inch of him with her eyes, the muscles, the scars, and felt no shame as he did the same. She wouldn't hide herself from him.
Placing heated kisses on his neck, his chest, his nipples, the areas of his body that interested her most, she didn’t bother to worship every inch of him. She wasn't sure if they'd ever find the time for that, but the aching between them now demanded more immediate attention. She kissed and sucked and bit and revelled in every inch of skin she could get her hands on, determined to lose herself in the feeling.
Sliding down his body and back down onto her knees, she knelt in between his legs, tracing the sharp planes of his body with her fingers and tongue. His cock, long and thin, was hardly the biggest she'd ever seen but her mouth still watered at the sight of it. Sliding her hand roughly up and down his shaft, she took satisfaction from the grunts that tore from his throat, and used her other hands to cup his balls, before lowering her mouth and sucking the head into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she pulled him further into her mouth. It was hardly a loving caress, all teeth and tongue and pressure, but the way his hand tightened in her hair told her he didn't really mind.
"Stop, stop," he managed to gasp out, screwing his eyes shut in an effort to gain some control. Flinging himself out of the chair, he threw them both onto the floor, forced her legs open with his knee and settled himself between them. Not being as young as she used to be and unaccustomed to fucking on the floor, she threw her legs up to rest on the chair in an effort to make herself more comfortable.
He stared down at her, his eyes so intent on hers she wondered if he was using Legilimency and if she really wanted him in her head, before deciding it didn't really matter as long as he would hurry up; the ache between her thighs was practically a living thing and it was just dying to be scratched. He entered her so quickly and sharply she thought if she hadn't been so desperate for him he might have snapped her in two. He stilled for a moment, allowing her to adjust to the shape of him, before beginning his punishing rhythm, the way he threw his head back and groaned every time he pushed himself inside gave away his desperation. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder, wanting him closer, needing to feel him surrounding her.
She struggled to match his rhythm, but somehow that made it more perfect, the way they inexpertly slipped and bucked against each other, revelling in each other's moans as they both neared completion. Minerva came with a desperate cry, arching up to meet Severus' touch, her inner muscles clenching and her eyes rolling back as she rode out her orgasm. She forced herself to open her eyes when she sensed that Severus was about to come. He came with a grunt, thrusting into her one last time before stilling and falling against her, his weight crushing her into the floor.
They lay like that, sweaty, limp and sated, for what felt like an eternity, their heartbeats hammering hard against the backdrop of the silent room.
"You're a hero, a hero," she murmured after a few minutes when the power of speech, of thought, finally returned to her, hoping the message would eventually sink in.
A tear splashed onto her cheek. She wasn’t sure whether it was hers or his; nor was she sure that it mattered.
Times of joy and times of sorrow
We will always see it through
Oh I don't care what comes tomorrow
We can face it together
The way old friends do
Minerva stared at the bottle of scotch on her desk, a slight look of disbelief marring her features. She'd woken up that morning, that perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning, expecting to meet up with Severus later, to drink scotch, to play chess, to touch each other until they couldn't feel anymore, the way they always did when things got a little too much. Now she wasn't sure if she'd ever see him again. She hated him for what he'd done, but at the same time she understood. His meetings with Albus all that year, that haunted look he'd carried in his eyes since the beginning of term, suddenly they had made sense to her, and she hated them both for what thay'd done. For the lies, the secrets, but more than that she hated that she still loved them both. She saw their imperfections and she saw past them; Severus, so tortured by the mistakes he'd made, would have done anything for Albus, the man who'd given him a second chance, even if it meant killing him; and Albus was old, dying and tired of life anway, so what did it matter if he went before his time, if it meant he got to save the life of the young Severus Snape? She snorted indelicately at the thought. They were fools, both of them, and here she was, alone as always, left to pick up the pieces.
A knock at the door pulled her out of her bitter thoughts, and she looked at it blankly before realising what the sound was.
"Come," she called
"Remus," she greeted in surprise as the young man walked through the door. "What are you doing here?"
"I heard about what happened, I wanted to offer my condolences and see if there was anything I could do," he offered, his eyes showing his concern.
"Well, there's always things to be done, but sit down first. Could I tempt you to a..." her eyes fell on the scotch, "cup of tea?"
"Wouldn't go amiss, thank you," he replied, folding down into the chair in front of her desk.
How he had changed, she mused as she poured his tea. Gone was the slightly naive, worried little boy, and in his place was a jaded, already-greying man who had known too much loss and seen too much betrayal.
"I can't imagine how you must be feeling, Minerva, to lose such an old friend like that. You know there was always talk that you and Albus were...."
Minerva's eyes widened in surprise and she fought the urge not to laugh. She loved Albus dearly, but that didn't change the fact that he was older than God and gayer than a maypole.
Handing him his tea, she replied, "No, no there was never anything like that. He was my mentor and I loved him dearly but there was nothing more to it than that." She had loved him, she thought with a slight wince; best to start thinking in the past tense straight away, she thought practically.
"Hmm," he murmured thoughtfully as he took a sip of tea. "I still can't believe what Severus did. Just this summer I lectured Harry about being prejudiced against him when all this time... I had no idea he..."
Minerva took a sip of tea, glorifying in the way the scolding liquid burned the back of her throat. Remus wasn't to know, she told herself, he was just being kind, was just trying to help, even as he sat there and broke her heart with his words.
"None of us did," she said, the words stinging as they left her throat.
Taking another sip of tea, she studied the man berating Severus in front of her and part of her couldn't help but blame him. If Severus' time at school hadn't been so awful, perhaps he would never have joined the Death Eaters, perhaps none of this would have happened.
"Perhaps you could check that the dungeons are in order for me? I'm expecting Horace, he's checking on the Slytherins." Minerva asked, suddenly anxious to be alone.
"Of course, and once again... I'm so sorry for your loss," he said kindly as he left.
Perhaps not as sorry as you should be, Minerva thought before she could will the thought away. Burying her head in her hands, she attempted to think of all the arrangements that had to be made for the end of term and Albus' funeral, but all she could think of was Severus and how alone he must feel, and how sorry she was.
danke | bitte
