Chapter One: One Little Maid (not) from School

Finally get laid

"Lucius, I have a problem." The words were as appetizing as a cup of cold poison.

Lucius crossed his elegantly trousered leg and swirled his brandy. Snape hunched forward in the other wingback, studying his hands.

"Do you need my lawyer? He did a damn fine job with me, you know."

"What? No. Not a lawyer. I'm... I'm not in trouble. Not yet."

"Then what? By Merlin, Severus, you're looking as nervous as a virgin Hufflepuff."

"Exactly."

"What?"

"Exactly, that's the problem."

"You deflowered a Hufflepuff? I always wondered about the Headmaster's privileges. Tell me, is that what Dumbledore was doing closeted with Potter all that time? Is that why Potter's always so jumpy?"

"What?"

"Potter and Dumbledore, did they..."

"Potter and – Prospero's prick, no, Lucius!" Snape's head jerked up.

"But your Hufflepuff, on the other hand ... Well, my lawyer's quite good, but ... Not your finest choice, my friend. You know Hufflepuffs don't know how to be discreet.

"What Hufflepuff?"

"The Hufflepuff you deflowered who's pressing charges. Don't tell me she was underage. I'm willing to help you, of course, but he usually charges double for ..."

"I didn't deflower anybody!"

"You didn't?"

"No."

Lucius looked a bit disappointed.

"Not even the Mud- the Muggle-born that follows you around everywhere? What's her name? Granger?"

"Not even the – why her?"

"She looks at you as if you two are ..." Lucius shrugged an elegant shoulder and sipped his brandy. "Every time I see you in public, you're with Potter, and she's there, too. I understand why Potter needs her. According to Draco, that little prat couldn't wipe his own arse without instruction, but unless you're slipping one to Granger, then ..."

"Lucius. Shut up!"

"You've not deflowered a Hufflepuff, you're not enjoying the Muggle-born 'delight', Granger. Whom do you ... it's not Potter is it?" Lucius grew pale.

"Good God, no! That's just the problem! I've not shagged anybody. Ever."

Lucius pursed his lips, appearing to rely on generations of breeding, years of upbringing, the knowledge of just which fork to use, what spell works best for torture, and an all around sense of superiority not to spill his drink in surprise.

And then did it anyway.

"You're a..." he looked around to make sure no house-elves were in the vicinity with their obscenely flapping ears, "virgin?" Lucius whispered.

Snape glared.

"Yes."

"And you want me to help you?"

"Yes."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. Snape reflected bitterly that even Lucius' eyebrow was elegant. His hair suddenly felt more greasy and his nose more hooked and his teeth more discolored.

"Yes," he muttered.

Lucius harrumphed.

"This was a bad idea," Snape said, rising. "Forget it. I'll see myself out."

"No, it's not a bad idea," Lucius interrupted. "You just caught me by surprise. It's been years since anybody other than Narcissa wanted me to ... And how did you make it through Slytherin without an initiation into the rites of Salazar? Surely that tradition's been in place since ..." he trailed off and made an odd gesture with his hand.

"I didn't make it through Slytherin without being initiated. You saw to it that that tradition was quite firmly practiced. It took me years to eradicate it, by the way." Snape gripped the back of his chair. "I'm not talking about that."

"Who was it?" Lucius asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

"What?"

"Who Salazarred you?"

"Rosier. And I'd rather not ..."

"No, of course not. But, why do you need my help? I can't imagine you think I'd ... unless this is your way of calling in our family's debt, in which case, I'd really have to beg you to reconsider. I haven't topped in years, mind you, and frankly, I'm not sure that you, no offense, old man, are the person that I'd like to ..."

"God, no, Lucius." Snape hadn't realized he could blush any more furiously than he already was. "I don't want to shag you. I'm not interested in men. Or boys. Or goats." He strode to the door and back, fists clenched.

"You're not?"

"No."

"Really? Because it struck me that ..."

"No. I want to have sex. Consensual, heterosexual, no-strings-attached sex. With a woman. Not a girl. Not a student. Not somebody who's going to carry tales to the Prophet. Not somebody who's going to ask me to change their N.E.W.T. result. Not somebody who thinks that jabbing at my arse with his half-erect cock while the rest of the common room listens outside the door is an initiation ritual. Not with anybody but somebody who knows what the fuck she is doing."

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "If you keep pacing that way, you'll wear out the Axminster," he observed.

"So you won't help me." Snape's shoulders sagged. He should have known better.

"I didn't say that. In fact, I have no problem at all helping you."

Hope welled up in Snape's groin.

"But it's going to be difficult," Lucius finished.

Snape sighed. It was always difficult.

"Difficult because Narcissa is keeping me on a rather short leash at the moment and any sign of, well, infidelity could be interpreted as ... Well, any chink in the Great Wall of Malfoy Marital Bliss and ... But don't despair – I think that I know somebody who can help you."

Hope rose again. "You do?"

Lucius frowned. "Yes, but you can't say no when you find out who it is. You do want to get a leg over, do you not?"

"Of course."

"Well then." Lucius snapped his fingers and a house-elf appeared. "Tell my son," he said to the elf, "that I have a job for him to do."

Hope took another careful look at the situation, laughed uproariously, and floated off.

"Severus, relax."

"Don't call me Severus." Snape manfully resisted the urge to fidget on the sofa which was festooned with large pink flowers. In the background, vaguely tribal music thumped.

Draco snorted and took a drag on his cigarette.

"Does your father know you smoke those?"

"Yes. Do you want one?"

"No." Snape nudged a magazine on the coffee table with a reluctant finger. The witch on the cover with breasts the size of planets winked saucily at him and demonstrated just how he could be expected to use his wand when the time came.

"Excuse me," Draco rose suddenly. "I have to see a Thestral about a flight."

"Go." Snape waved a weary hand.

The witch at the front desk, a crone who looked to be about eighty, with purple hair and a nose stud, knitted peaceably and nodded politely as Draco walked past.

"Have you been here before, dear?" she asked Snape.

"Wha – er, no."

"Oh, so you'll be wanting a pamphlet then." She pushed a leaflet across the desk at him.

"Erm, thank you."

"It details our rates and the rules. But since you're with young Mr Malfoy, and it's your first time, we'll be offering a special. It's fifty Galleons an hour, and you can come as often as you like."

Snape was saved from complete collapse (and the receptionist from the hexing of a lifetime) by the return of Draco and the advent of the Madame.

"Come on, Severus," Draco prodded him. "I never pictured you as a shy boy."

Snape glared at the witches and wizard. "Can we get on with this?" he demanded. And then more plaintively, "Please?"

"Well, hello."

"Good afternoon."

"Is this your first time?"

"Miss..."

"Oh you can call me Fanny. Fanny Cockstuff."

"Miss Fanny, I..."

The prostitute laid a finger across Snape's lips.

"Why don't you get comfy, love? What's your name?"

"Snape. Severus Snape."

"Ooh!" squealed Miss Fanny (whose name was Claire). "The spy for the Order of the Phoenix! How exciting! Mister Draco doesn't always bring the nicest guests, you know." She pulled him onto the bed and bounced next to him, still chattering.

Manfully, Snape stared at her barely concealed tits, wondering if she'd let him touch them and how much it would cost him; Draco had assured him he was footing the bill, but ...

"I can't say, miss..." Snape tried to interrupt. "...that such things would be any concern of mine. As it stands, how would you suggest we proceed?"

"... there was that one time, oh, the year before last, when Mr Draco had his birthday party here, and there was that horrid boy, Crabbe, who did, in fact ..."

"Miss FANNY!"

"Yes?" Miss Fanny jumped back.

"Are we, or are we not, going to fuck?"

She pouted a bit.

"Well, I suppose."

"Excellent. How do we begin?" He glared at her, daring her to giggle.

Miss Fanny did not giggle, merely reached for a bottle and two glasses.

"Wine?" she asked.

Snape hesitated.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Mr Draco has all expenses covered."

"Is it entirely necessary?" Snape asked.

"Well, some find it necessary to relax. Try some."

Miss Fanny poured the wine and lounged against the headboard, allowing her negligee to slip and reveal a portion of thigh.

"Tell me," she said. "What would you like to do?"

Snape's cock, which, up until now, had been somewhat ambivalent about the whole procedure, took a more active interest as she put her wineglass down and stretched, thrusting out her breasts in Snape's general direction.

"I would like," Snape said, "to touch your breasts."

Miss Fanny giggled and shimmied out of her negligee.

Snape's cock perked up considerably.

"It's not unusual," Miss Fanny said, consolingly. "In fact, Mr Draco didn't last half as long as you did."

Snape snorted. On the long list of "Bad Ideas I Have Had", this had to be the worst. Next to joining Voldemort's legion.

"In fact," she continued brightly, "I think it's rather sweet. I didn't really believe Mr Draco when he told me that you were a virgin, but I suppose you are, aren't you?"

Snape grabbed for his wineglass, downed it, and then started pulling his trousers back on.

"Oh, now ..." Miss Fanny sat up behind him and began to rub his shoulders. "You know the House rules – you can come as often as you can, and our hour's only just begun. If you like, we can wait a bit, and maybe next time you'll actually be able to get your cock near me."

Snape glanced at the hourglass by the door. Only fifteen minutes had elapsed. He groaned.

"That's the spirit!" cheered Miss Fanny poking at a stubborn knot in his shoulder.

"So?" Draco demanded.

Snape glared at him and stormed down the stairs to the street.

"How did it go? Fanny is really one of the best, don't you think?" Draco persisted loudly as they prepared to push their way through the throngs of Saturday shoppers and into Diagon Alley.

Snape flexed his shoulders. Her sexual prowess notwithstanding, his back did feel better. Still, the less Draco knew about his performance (or lack thereof), the better.

"Draco ..."

"Father told me you were looking to lose your virginity," Draco bawled. "And I lost mine to Fanny – officially, that is. Pansy really, but nobody counts ..."

"Draco!"

"What?"

"Do we have to discuss this in public?" Snape hissed.

"Discuss what, Malfoy? Oh, hello, Snape."

Ronald Weasley, his arm slung around the shoulder of Hermione Granger, slouched towards the arguing pair.

"Weasley," Draco greeted them. "Granger."

Weasley dropped his arm from Granger's shoulder and began to circle Draco. Draco circled back, sneering. The men fingered their wands. Granger seemed oblivious to the behavior.

"Professor Snape," Granger greeted him. "Nice day?"

"Yes. Lovely," Snape snapped, looking for an exit. Either he could duck back into the brothel or hex Granger and grab Draco, before the dunderhead got into a duel with Weasley, and make a run for it.

"Oh!" Granger exclaimed before he could decide the more prudent course of action. "Did you just visit Rachel's?"

Snape snapped his neck around and read the nameplate on the brothel's door.

"It's okay if you did," Granger continued. "Were you taking care of the first item on your..." Her voice dropped conspiratorially. "...list?"

Snape said nothing.

"I wondered how you'd go about that. It's fine, you know," Granger said in the tones of a deeply supportive social worker. "George tells me that they're the best in town, and that they have the highest standards of care and hygiene for their workers, both male and female. And that's important, you know, to be sure that even the workers in the sex industry have a high standard of care ...."

"Granger ..."

"Rachel's is apparently nicest place around," Granger continued. "Even for men. If that's your ..." she trailed off, blushing. "Erm, anyway," she began again, "Ronald and I were going to Florean's for tea; would you like to, erm, join us?"

Snape glanced over Granger's shoulder. Behind them, Weasley and Draco were now standing toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose, each trying to stare the other down. He saw his escape.

"Granger, as tempting as it may be to join you and engage in such invigorating trivialities as discussing the weather and the current deplorable state of the Chudley Cannons – not that I give a good Thestral's turd about Quidditch – I must decline. And Granger," he paused and smirked, "you might be well advised to remove your boyfriend from the clutches of young Mr Malfoy. Before he gets hurt, that is."

Granger spun, her uncontrollable hair smacking Snape in the face, and uttered a gasp of horror at the tableau of Weasley and Malfoy practically eyeball-to-eyeball, yet neither one of them daring to draw wand. She leapt forward and grabbed Weasley by the elbow. Weasley uttered a dismayed squawk and stumbled after her.

Draco was not so lucky to keep his footing and would have fallen face first onto the cobbles if Snape had not yanked him back by his collar.

"Thank you, Severus," Draco said, "but I was handling that nicely on my own."

"Harpy shit," Snape sneered, and set off towards the Leakey Cauldron, trying to ignore the niggle that was the scent of Granger's shampoo.

AN: Still not mine. Yes, I am aware I am playing with certain fandom cliches that might not be to everbody's taste. But in this little universe, Snape is an aging virgin, and Draco occasionally smokes. Just go with it. :)