For Auld Lang Syne

"Severus, I really don't know why you bothered coming here tonight," Filius Flitwick said with a hiccup. He then knocked back his mango-syrup and soda with a flourish.

Snape, too, was at a loss to explain his presence at the New Year's Eve party; the person who had persuaded him to attend had never arrived, and now it was almost midnight.

"Why be here with us, when all you do is scowl?" Filius continued. He took a bite of his cocktail cherry and dropped the small paper umbrella into the empty glass.

As Filius hopped off his stool his small foot nudged the side of Snape's leg. The pint-sized professor wandered over to the bar, where Madam Rosmerta greeted him with a stunning smile. The rest of the gathering paid no attention to the exchange; the Hogwarts group were in varying states of inebriation, and even Minerva McGonagall was chatting away happily to the centaur, Firenze, with a twinkle in her eye.

When Snape received his invitation to Slughorn's New Year shindig a few days earlier, he had thrown it straight onto the fire. But when Tonks' owl subsequently arrived with a note stating she hoped to see him at the Three Broomsticks that evening, Snape suddenly found reason enough to attend. Now, after enduring two-and-a-half hours of frivolous chit-chat and tedium, Snape was beginning to suspect he had been stood up.

Not that he was dating Tonks; he was merely having a mutually-beneficial carnal relationship with her, the rules of which they had not yet discussed. However, it now appeared Snape was at her beck and call and not the other way round, as he would have preferred. This disparity caused him more annoyance than the drunken ramblings of Hagrid, to his left, who was booming out yet another Hippogriff tale to Pomona Sprout. The Herbology Professor's cheeks were as red as a Gryffindor banner, and her words slurred whenever she managed a word in edgeways.

The whole occasion was boisterous and bothersome, and Snape reproved himself for his poor decision-making. He would not have attended the party if he hadn't felt his groin pulsating when Tonks' note had arrived. He could barely believe the actions even belonged to him; he was acting like some randy teenager on a promise. Snape stared into his pint of stout and studied the frothy tracks sticking to the side of his glass, which had been left behind after each sip of beer.

He was completely taken by surprise when the barstool beside him scraped noisily across the floor, and the mousey-haired Auror flung herself onto the seat with a large, bright blue cocktail in her grasp.

"Wotcher, Severus," she said, a slight smirk curling her lips.

The table of partygoers greeted Tonks with shouts and cheers and enquired of her Auror partner, Dawlish, whom Snape quickly located at the other side of the pub, talking to Ambrosius Flume from Honeydukes sweet shop.

When the good wishes subsided, Snape's low voice glided underneath the hubbub of the inn. "How good of you to show up," he said dangerously.

Tonks shot him a lofty look and took a sip of her drink, after which the cocktail changed colour to mauvey-purple. It seemed his lover's favoured drink was a Rainbow Revolver. Snape didn't know why he was surprised; it matched her personality nicely, but somehow the drink seemed less appropriate now. Not only had Tonks lost her Metamorphmagus abilities, but she had also lost some bubble and fizz, and he thought she'd do better with something plain, strong and dark. Like his stout. Or, like...

"Don't try to berate me, Severus. Dawlish and I were held up by your lot."

Snape felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know who I mean: Death Eaters, servants of the Dark Lord, lackeys to You-Know-Who." She took another sip of her drink, which then turned the colour of rubies.

"I am no lackey," Snape hissed angrily as a fire-breathing Horntail growled ferociously in his chest.

Tonks laughed, full and loud, and some of the party guests turned to discern the cause of her mirth. Underneath the public scrutiny, Snape could not continue chastising Tonks, and he remained seated, barely controlling his pent-up aggression. He was not a lowly man-servant, and he found it intolerable that Tonks might believe such a thing. Worse still, she might believe him to be her lackey, someone who would obediently copulate with her, whenever she desired. That was not how this relationship was going to work. He would see to that.

When the eyes of the room resumed their original focus, Tonks leaned towards his ear and spoke in hushed undertones. "I know you are no lackey, Severus. You're one of the bravest men I know."

A swell of pride extinguished the Horntail's fiery breath in Snape's chest. His expression did not alter outwardly, but his taut muscles relaxed, he sat a little straighter, and took another sip of beer.

Madam Rosmerta's voice rang out like a bell, magically magnified over the racket of the inn. "If you would all care to make your way outside, it is sixty seconds until midnight. We will see in the New Year with fireworks!"

Most of the patrons of the pub filed outside, taking their drinks with them, and Tonks arose. When Snape did not follow her immediately, she placed her cocktail glass on the table, spilling some of its contents, and then slipped her hand into his. With a tug, he was on his feet, sneering at the young witch as she pulled him through the back door and to the far end of the gathered crowd.

The night air was cold and still, and the pale light of the crescent moon shone onto the back garden of the Three Broomsticks, casting a thin veil of illumination onto the spectators as they listened to the New Year countdown. Snape felt some consternation about being seen publically with Tonks and pulled his hood over his head, shrouding his face in shadow.

Nineteen ninety-seven arrived, and the fireworks began, whistling and banging in a beautiful yet modest celebratory display. Extravagance was no longer the order of the hour, since so many wizarding families now suffered under the ever-present thumb of the Dark Lord, but the magical pyrotechnics flashing and crackling noisily in the night sky succeeded in producing delighted 'ooohs' and 'ahhhs' from the audience.

As a giant fiery dragon flew through the night sky, Snape felt the gentle pressure of Tonks' hand on his backside, and she squeezed his buttock playfully underneath his cloak. Snape jumped with shock, and then tried unsuccessfully to bat her hand away, but this only seemed to encourage her and she clutched his derriere, licentiously fondling him. Although he didn't want to be groped in a public place, he couldn't stop his crotch from betraying him, and an increasing swell of blood caused him to rise inexorably upwards.

When the firework dragon came rushing towards the spectators with its mouth wide open, the crowd tried to duck out of the way, and Snape made use of the moment's distraction by grasping Tonks' roaming hand away from his buttock. She responded by stepping directly in front, with her back towards him. Soon she was rubbing up against his half-formed hardness and laughing throatily, as if entertained by the magnificent phoenix now swirling in the erstwhile dragon's airspace.

Her hand found its way to his trousers and started to unbutton his fly, and Snape could fight no longer. The fumbling of her fingers mingled with a heady thrill; the danger of being found out, and his fear of losing control. She secured his length in her hand and gently stroked and coaxed him into a full-size erection. Snape held her arms securely to prevent her escape, enraptured by her delicate touch and youthful exuberance.

For a time, the darkness kept them safe and hidden from the distracted crowd, but when the deafening encore of airborne explosives reached its crescendo, Tonks gently tucked him away and carefully buttoned-up his fly. Throbbing and frustrated, Snape let go of her arms and pushed her away.

A chorus of Auld Lang Syne filled the night air and Snape stepped away from the singing throng, dragging Tonks unceremoniously into the shadows of the alley at the side of the pub. The air was smoky from burned-out fireworks, and the rowdy celebrations of the Three Broomsticks revellers concealed the sound of his angry voice.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" he snapped.

As his eyes adapted to the dark alleyway he could make out the outline of her face; she was illuminated in moonlight: black and white with shades of grey, small, petite, a little bit frightened, and very, very wary.

"You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it," Tonks said, faking boldness.

Snape used the weight of his body to push her up against the wall of the pub.

"Do tell me, Nymphadora, which part I was expected to enjoy? You, arriving two hours late? You, yanking me outside to observe deafening explosives? Or you, helping yourself to my body, as the mood took you?"

His nose was less than an inch away from her now, and he was aware that his voice had risen considerably in volume.

"Severus! Stop! People will hear you!"

"Muffliato," he whispered, holding onto his wand. "No-one will hear us now."

Her eyes widened at the implication.

"When you fondled me, you didn't seem at all concerned about witnesses," he growled. "Why be so shy now?"

"I..." she stammered.

"Don't cry wolf, just because you're no longer in control of the situation."

Her head thudded softly on the cold stonework of the wall. "What do you want me to say, Severus?" Tonks asked wearily. "Do you want me to apologise? Promise not to do it again?"

"I want you to do as I tell you."

His tone was menacing and conveyed the authority and power he intended to feel. He would show her who was in charge; he would create the agenda of their relationship, and eventually she would beg him to take her.

Snape Summoned an upturned, empty Butterbeer crate and commanded her to stand upon it. Their faces now at the same level, he could feel her hot breath on his lips. He ran his hands down the back of her knees and found the hem of her long, tweed skirt. His fingers snaked up her thighs and located her buttocks, which he pinched with such force that Tonks jumped. Snape relished the moment, then slipped his index finger under the lower seam of her knickers and traced the hemline slowly towards her core, feeling her rough hair beneath and warm wetness between her legs. Snape felt a flicker of satisfaction: the firework activity had aroused her too.

When he slipped his finger between her folds she melted at his touch. With a low moan, her head fell forwards onto his shoulder. A surge of supremacy made his erection strain uncomfortably against his clothing, and his Auror trembled, weakened and feeble, submitting to his every whim. He pushed her underwear aside, and he almost tumbled over the edge when the sensation of her slick heat encased his penetrating fingers.

Tonks' head rose slightly, and she whispered into his ear. "I'll do anything," she said, shivering. "Anything you tell me."

Her words were his undoing, and he quickly freed his erection, tore her knickers down to the floor, lifted her up until her legs wrapped around his waist, and took her with a forceful thrust.

Tonks screamed a moan into the muffled night air, and the noise excited Snape beyond belief. He pressed her body roughly into the wall, and his movements inside her became ragged and feral, as if some hidden beast had been unleashed from within.

Rejoicing in sinful, intoxicating freedom, he plunged deeper and harder, lost in a dark rhapsody of sensation. Becoming vaguely aware of Tonks' climax echoing down the alley, Snape joined her with a sudden rush of moans and violent shudders, until his increasingly flaccid muscles could no longer hold her weight, and her body fell limp in his arms.

He placed her gently down upon the crate, and she fell whimpering into his embrace, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Snape cradled her head, stroking her hair away from her eyes, and he became aware of his unexpected transition from untamed beast to gentle lover; all he wanted to do now was hold her and take care of her. The change of emotion was disconcerting and humbling.

"Happy New Year," he whispered softly into her hair.