A Potion For Everything (Severus Snape x Oc)

Surrender

🔞 EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT FOR 18+ READERS🔞

If nails on chalkboard could be a person. If stolen lunch from the teachers lounge were a person. If finding an Occamy in your attic were a person. If a broom breaking in half mid flight over the Atlantic were a person.

It was cold water over a fire that was lit by the belly's of dragons at a wizard gathering meant for music, libation, and debauchery. It was.

Umbridge.

Of course it was. "Out of every hallway, corridor, classroom and cliffside she could stalk at late hours of the evening. It had to be this one." Severus breathed out. Perhaps a bit louder than he intended. His eyes grow large as he realized Umbridge could probably hear them. Now was not the time or place to lose his temper. But the wicked look on his wife's face did tempt him. For she slowly reached into her pocket. Pulling fourth a tabaco pipe. But this was not tabaco that was lit. A concoction of her own. A bit of courage. Of gumption. Of smoke filled lust. She breathed in heavy. Walking towards her lover. Her husband. Clad in black and brimming on the edge of madness. All he needed was a push. All he needed, was magic.

Felix Felicis. Said to only be a liquid potion. But anything could be anything with the right understanding of magic. And smoke, Viola found, was the best version of such a gift from the magic realm. So she kissed her husband. And breathed out. Letting him breath in. And Severus stood back up. Tall. But now there was a look in his eye that could shake the very foundation of the school to it's knees. For he felt it. That fire. Once more. And he was going to let it burn everything down.

"The one where in it, stood two teachers who looked the part to play of some desperate Shakespeare. Did lovers quarrel in the evening? Be it that, the answer of which there disheveled state does present. Or perhaps it was pixies folly? Dastardly creatures of sin and lust tarry not the mortal realm say for causing mischief on their master behalf." He spoke loudly, but low. A menacing voice. Like a narrator who had lost his patience.

"I.. I beg your pardon." The demon teacher Umbridge squeaked at the increasingly odd show before her. Her mind running circles trying to understand what was going on. And how she could punish it.

"Yes, you will!" Severus said. "Beg." He walked towards the woman. His hand wrapped around the wife he took with him. Who was in a way, regretting what she had just done. As it was a larger hit she anticipated. But also, was growing incredibly aroused at the sudden take charge attitude that oozed from the very core of the black void wizard.

"Look around madam." He said. Stopping, wrapping Viola in his robes. Sheltering her. It was dark but the moon would still reflect off her hair. And her ability to shift looks was not as reliable as one may think. Nothing like her Grandfather's ability. "No there was no puck here. No great fairy king of bark and leaf. But what was here, what is here, is some great pink beast. It's scales did quake."

He grinned. She could see that. And he was having fun with this. But she knew if she ever told anyone about this very moment. No one would believe her. Beacuse there was a child where her husband was. One buried so deep down inside of him. That it took this long. At this very moment. For it to finally claw it's way back into existence. He did not just look or act younger. He was. there was a schoolboy there who even in it's prime did not see this much sunshine in life's operating moments. For it reveled in this act of defiance. And it charged forward head strong. Taking Viola with him like some poor hostage who fell in love with the kidnaper.

"How it bellowed about the hour." Viola played along as he walked them passed her. Hoping the shock alone would keep the mighty dragon Deloris at bay. "How its tail did slash about. And it's claws did rake at the sight of gay mortals and their marry making!" She mocked the great pink oaf. "For it did not understand what it never felt itself!" Severus finished. And as they walked past her they began to hurry. Taking the next left. And a right. Down halls she was not familiar with as portraits whispered about what had just happened. They were their story teller now. And they ran. Until for certain they were far and away and would not be followed. The only eyes on them were the poor staircase portraits.