The Wayward Wand

A/N:

Thanks as always to RedSkyAtNight, my wonderful beta and Britpicker.

Those of you curious about the Wayward Wand establishment may want to check out the story of the same name.

“So glad you could make it for dinner, Severus.”

Snape and Rawa were walking down the steps of twelve Grimmauld Place into the cool evening when Sirius delivered this sarcastic parting shot. Rawa looked up at Snape, and as soon as they were out of earshot, said, “I just realized. This is the first time you have stayed for dinner after an Order meeting.”

“Yes.” His voice was carefully neutral, but she thought she could detect, in the soft light of the streetlamps, the barest hint of a smile.

“Why did you always leave before?”

“I had more interesting things to do.”

Now she was sure it was a smile. They were ambling along, with no clear destination, and she felt his hand move smoothly downward from the small of her back where it had been resting. It was one of the oddities of his character that while he never, within view of their colleagues, made the smallest gesture of affection toward her, in semi-public places he was ruthless in his liberties. Tonight during dinner, for instance, he had sat next to her with apparent indifference, but after dessert was finished, his left hand, concealed under the table, had slipped through the slit in the side of her skirt and roamed over her thigh, his fingers at one point hooking into the elastic of her knickers and searching out the cleft between her legs.

She had squirmed in her chair, and clenched her teeth to keep from moaning aloud. Reaching under the table, she pinched his arm, but instead of removing his hand, he had pinched her back, on the inside of her thigh. By the time they rose to leave, she was so wet that she was sure she must have left a damp mark on the chair.

Now in the half-darkness he drew her into a doorway and grasped her buttocks in both hands, pulling her up against his growing erection. He kissed her hard, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and biting it gently, and began with both hands to lift her skirt.

“More interesting than this?” she asked, rubbing against him through the fabric of his trousers.

To her surprise, he laughed, and she pulled back slightly and said, “What?”

“Not more interesting, no. But undoubtedly less expensive in the long term.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, less expensive?”

He smiled but said nothing, and she said, “Where did you go, after those other meetings?”

“To a modest establishment in Knockturn Alley called The Wayward Wand.”

“A wand shop? You went after every meeting to a wand shop?”

He was grinning broadly now. “Hardly. I was there to have my more . . . non-magical needs tended to.”

Suddenly she understood, and her jaw dropped. “This place—it is a prostíbulo, a place where men go?”

“Men . . . and some women as well.”

“And what did you buy there that was so relatively inexpensive?”

“I paid a woman—well, a number of women, actually—to suck my cock.”

She was speechless. If they lived together into old age, she would never understand him. He had seemed mortified when she had teased him about the little bottle in his bedside table, but now, admitting casually to frequenting a brothel, he was not just unapologetic but positively smug.

They stood in silence for a moment, and he finally said, sounding a little amused, “What did you think, that I lived like a monk? That ‘sucks me off like a pro’ was just an expression?” He took her hand and placed it back over his erection, which was harder than ever, and she realized that the conversation was arousing him.

“Of course not. I just . . . ”

“Didn’t think I would tell you about it, is that it?”

She nodded ruefully.

“Is that what you want? For me to lie to you? To conceal things from you?”

“No,” she said immediately. “It is just . . . Severus?”

“Yes?”

“When was the last time you went there?”

“The night we went to see the Dark Lord.” He grinned. “You were annoyed with me, and went off to your rooms. It seemed unlikely that you would be willing to personally relieve me of all the tension you had caused, climbing out of the bath like the brazen little tart that you are, all naked and wet and . . . naked.”

Not that I would have known at the time that I was causing you any “tension.” She reached for his belt buckle. “You like to see me naked?”

He seemed surprised. “Of course. It’s . . . naked.”

She unzipped his trousers and took his penis in her hand, rubbing her thumb lightly across the underside of the shaft.

“Oh, Christ,” he said. “Rawa . . . “

“Yes?” Her fingers teased along the little thread of skin at the base of the head.

“Suck my cock.”

“For free?”

“Bitch.”

She pulled his penis free of his trousers and began to stroke it lazily. “You have not returned to that place since we were married?”

“No, no, ah, god, please, I want your mouth on my cock.”

She dropped to her knees and leaned forward and licked delicately at him. “You will never go back there again?”

“No, never, I swear it, now suck me off before I come all over your face.”

She pulled his trousers down around his knees and took his penis in her mouth, sucking hard and working her tongue against it.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped. “Oh, Christ almighty fuck.” His hands clutched at her hair.

Her left hand was braced against the ironwork of the steps, and she wet her right forefinger and slipped it between his buttocks and into his anus. He groaned, and she felt his muscles clench around her finger as her mouth moved up and down along his penis.

“Oh, god, Rawa, you filthy whore, oh, fuck, I’m going to come.” He pulled away slightly, but she buried him in her mouth, feeling the liquid rush, hot and salty and bitter, against the back of her throat. She sucked him clean, and swallowed, and raised her face to him, her lips tingling and slightly numb.

His knees bent, and he sagged back against the railing. “God almighty,” he said. “Come here.”

She stood, and he pulled her skirt up around her waist and reached a hand inside her knickers. “You’re so wet,” he said, slipping two fingers up inside her. “How can you be so wet before I’ve even touched you?”

“I want you,” she answered. “I love your . . . your cock, in my mouth.”

“Really? You like to suck me off?” His fingers were exploring insistently inside her, and she groaned and pressed forward against him.

“Ay, dios, yes, the taste, the smell, everything. Oh, please, your fingers, that feels so good.”

He began circling his thumb over her clitoris and she cried out.

“Oh, Severus, touch me, yes, like that,” she said, holding on with both hands to the railing and grinding against his hand.

“Is this good?” he asked, working his fingers in and out of her, and stroking harder with his thumb. “Do you like it when I do this?”

“Oh, yes,” she cried, “there, right there, así mi amor, así, me vengo, ¡me vengo!” and she came, shuddering, against his hand.

Slowly he withdrew his fingers, making her twitch violently by sliding one gently over her clitoris.

“What do you call that?” he asked.

“What?”

“That.” Another gentle touch, another involuntary jerk.

“Raka k'akara.”

“You must be joking.”

“No,” she laughed. “That is what it is called. The place that feels good, the little button.”

“By the time you ever finish asking me to touch that, the moment will have passed. You had better say clit, if you want me to respond in a timely manner.”

“English is so much more efficient,” she said, nuzzling against him.

“Come on,” he said, straightening up and smoothing her skirt back over her hips. “A warm bath awaits. And bed. And perhaps another vocabulary lesson. If you’re good.”