Ten Minutes Left

“Well, isn’t this a delightful room our hosts have provided us,” drawled Snape to his companion with a sardonic edge to his voice.  “Although the air is admittedly a bit humid, the décor is really quite enchanting.”

The woman to his left gazed back, her displeasure mingled with detached resignation.  “There’s no need to be sarcastic, Severus, if you recall I did warn you that this might happen not two nights ago.”

“Sibyll, you predict death, dismemberment, and destruction on a nightly basis.  That hardly qualifies as ‘warning me this might happen,’” snorted the former Potions Master as he tried to make himself more comfortable on the bumpy cobblestone floor on which the two sat.  The fact that a heavy iron ball was shackled to his left ankle rendered the attempt largely unsuccessful.

The seer rolled her eyes.  “It’s not my fault that you have no appreciation for the subtle art of divination.  You might have been more prepared.”

“More prepared?  Why then, pray tell, are you shackled up here with me instead of fabricating tales from tea leaves back at Hogwarts?” snapped Snape.  “Your ‘subtle art’ didn’t seem to help you tonight, now, did it?  And I’ll thank you not to steal my lines, you old bag!”

Sibyll made a disgruntled face at him, then replied, “One does not shirk her responsibilities merely because she knows her fate, dear Severus.” 

Disbelieving, Snape raised his eyebrows and replied, “You think not?  You obviously don’t know very many Slytherins, Sibyll.  Our House has it refined to an art form.”

“Not well, I’m sure, excepting present company,” sighed Trelawney. 

Their spat over for the moment, they sat silently for awhile.  Trelawney kept trying to pull her shawl tighter around her shoulders to fend off the draft, while Snape attempted to pick the lock on his chain with a piece of straw from the floor.

“What time is it now, do you think,” asked Trelawney.  “We’ve been sitting here for hours.”

Snape craned his head to peer out the miniscule slit in the wall that served as a window.  “I can’t see well enough to tell, though by the increasing frequency of my stomach rumblings, it must be nearly eleven.”

“Do you think they meant it, Severus?  About midnight?”

The potions master bit back the snarky retort he’d been intending to make when it occurred to him that Trelawney was afraid.  Really afraid.  He himself had faced death so many times that he’d become someone inured to it, but the ditsy divination professor had faced little in her life worse than the occasional unruly student and inclement weather.  He sighed.  “I’m sorry, Sibyll, but I don’t see why they wouldn’t have.”

“Crap,” she replied, shivering, with a sigh of her own.  “I was afraid of that.”

“Try not to worry, Sibyll, I’m sure it will all be over quickly.”  Hopefully she’d find that reassuring.  Knowing what Death Eaters were capable of, he certainly would find it so, though he doubted the truth of his own words.

They sat silent for several minutes.

“You know what’s funny?”

“What, Sibyll?”

“I keep thinking over and over again that I’m going to die.  That there is nothing I can do about it.  It really sucks, but you know what bothers me the most about the whole thing?”  She gazed up at her companion intently, waiting for his answer.

“The part about leaving our bodies out to be devoured by vultures?”  That part didn’t appeal to Snape at all.

Trelawney shuddered, “Well, besides that.  I was trying not to think about that, why did you have to remind me?  No, not about how they’re going to kill us.  But about dying in general?”

“I give up.” Snape shifted his position again to ease the pressure on his aching tailbone.  “What bothers you the most?”

“I’ve never gotten laid,” whispered Trelawney.

“You WHAT?” asked Snape, stunned by the seeming randomness of her admission.

“I’ve never gotten laid,” she repeated, a little louder this time.  “The closest I came was in my fifth year, when I … orally pleasured the Head Boy… just to keep him from taking away house points for breaking curfew of all things.  But since then… not so much as a kiss.”

Snape said nothing. He was still recovering from her original revelation.

“I don’t want to die a virgin.”  Her normally airy voice came out whinier than usual.

“Well, Sibyll,” snapped Snape in annoyance, “I don’t particularly want to die a virgin either, but I don’t see we have much choice about that now.”

“You?” Trelawney asked incredulously.  “I can’t believe it!”

“Why not?” Snape bit back.  “It’s not as if I’ve had a never-ending stream of women visiting me in the dungeon, now have I?  Has anybody, other than that git Lucius Malfoy, so much as come by for tea?”

“Well, not that I’ve seen, nor has the crystal revealed,” Trelawney faltered, “but I just assumed you had done it at some time in your life.  Most boys have, you know.”

Snape grimaced.  “Thanks.  Just rub it in, why don’t you?  Why don’t you just hit me with a Cruciatus too, while you’re at it?  No, wait, you don’t have a WAND anymore, do you, Professor “Maybe if we give up our wands they won’t kill us” Trelawney?”

“That’s not what I meant,” insisted Trelawney.  “I really am surprised though.  A lot of women love the tall, dark, bad boy look.  And the attitude, too.”

Snape felt her lay a hand tentatively atop his.  He resisted the urge to pull back – this might be the last positive human contact he would ever have.  She left her hand where it was. “They do?”

Trelawney nodded.  “Definitely.”  She was now stroking his hand softly.  It tickled.  He thought about pulling away, but could not seem to make himself do so.  He just sat where he was, looking down at the soft, chilly, slightly wrinkly hand that was massaging his.

Cthunk!  A noise startled him from his reverie; it was the clunk of Trelawney’s chains clanging on the cobblestones as she inched closer to him.  Her hips were now nearly touching his, and the forearm of the hand that had been stroking his now lay gently atop his own, covering the faded sign of the Dark Mark.  He turned to look at her and was startled to see her face very close to his own.  His head instinctively recoiled from the proximity, but she merely leaned closer in.

“What are you doing, Sibyll?” he asked suspiciously as he continued stretching backwards to maintain some semblance of personal space.

She smiled slightly, and licked her lips.  “I don’t want to die a virgin,” she repeated.

Oh, shit!  Snape’s mind began whirling in panic.  He couldn’t move, he didn’t want to move, as the hand on his had migrated down to his thigh, but Trelawney?  Ugh!  “We can’t do this.”

“Yes, we can."

“But… you don’t like me.  I don’t like you either!” Snape tried to reason with her, though reason was becoming increasingly difficult with the distractions she provided.  She’d lifted her other hand to snake around the side of his neck, her fingers winding through his disheveled, greasy hair, and was pulling his head gently, but firmly, towards hers.

“So?” replied Trelawney, as she began dropping light kisses clumsily along his stubbly jaw.  “Does it matter?”

Snape tried hard to think.  His body still was resisting his mental desire to escape, and was starting to betray him by responding to her … ministrations.  Did it matter?  If his calculations were correct, they had about twenty minutes left before Mulciber and his cronies would return to finish them off.  Without his wand, there was little he could do to stop them.  Truthfully, Snape didn’t want to die a virgin either, though Trelawney was far from his first choice of sexual partners; the seer was old, wrinkly and dreadfully vapid. But then again, he could just close his eyes and pretend he was with someone else, couldn’t he?  Trelawney’s hand inching slowly up his thigh toward his private parts made the decision for him.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,”  Snape reached out to cup his companion’s head and pull it the last few inches toward his own before closing his eyes and entering his own personal fantasy.  The kissing was slobbery and awkward, a testament to their total lack of experience, but years of pent-up hormones seemed to take over on both their parts as hands went exploring and mouths went roaming everywhere they could physically reach.

Trelawney twisted and fidgeted a bit and eventually managed to throw her unshackled leg over Snape’s lap so she could sit astride him on his thighs.  Snape’s eyes shot open in surprise, but the disturbing sight of Trelawney unbuttoning her dress led him to shut them again almost immediately.  He forced his mind to picture the woman he’d fantasized about for many years unbuttoning her dress, and felt himself stiffen in response.  

Snape reached forward to pull her closer, and this time his hands contacted bare skin.  He leaned forward as he drew her nearer and began exploring this bare skin with hands and mouth.  He’d never kissed a breast before, but decided he could get used to the sensation.  He cupped one breast with his right hand while his left stroked her back, and his mouth navigated across the other breast to its tip, where a nipple was already hardening in response.  The nipple felt different than the rest of her skin, bumpier, and Snape licked it experimentally.  Trelawney wiggled in response.  So he did it again.  Her fingers tangled through his hair again as she pulled his head closer.  Snape guessed he must be doing something right so he became bolder, licking and flicking the nipple again and again until he noticed Trelawney was making a strange noise, something between a pant and a moan. 

“Suck on it, damn you!” she snapped, and Snape complied in order to silence her so he could continue with his mental fantasy.  He sucked it hard, as if he were a baby trying to squeeze the last drop of his mother’s milk.  “Ow, not so hard!”

Snape gentled his sucking and moved to the other, undamaged, breast.  He reached around to cup her ass with his hands, squeezing as he pictured in his mind the large, succulent derriere of the woman in his fantasy.  Trelawney groaned again and pushed him back before impatiently tugging at the buttons of his own shirt.

“Careful,” he chided as he continued to squeeze her bottom like it were a plush toy, “you’ll tear them right off.”

“So?  You won’t need it again,” she reminded him as she undid the last of them and began tugging the shirt off his shoulders.  Snape let go of her rear to assist in removing the offending garment and soon found himself being kissed again. 

This kiss was slightly less sloppy than the last, and he found himself enjoying the feel of her tongue slapping against his.  Even more, he loved the hand that was now running down his chest toward the buttons on his trousers.  He eagerly met her there, and unbuttoned them himself before lifting his bottom to pull them down his thighs.  With Trelawney sitting there, he couldn’t get them down very far, but it was far enough.  She immediately took him in her hands and began to stroke him, much the same way she had done with his hand earlier.  Inexpert though her motions were, it was such a novelty to have hands other than his own holding his penis that he thought he might lose it right then. 

“If you keep that up, I won’t be able to relieve you of your virginity,” he cautioned.  Trelawney’s hands stilled.  He opened his eyes; her dress was pooled around her waist and her jutting nipples were glistening with his saliva. This served to dampen his ardor sufficiently for him to instruct, “Remove the rest of your clothing.”  He waited to see that she was following his instructions before closing his eyes again to retreat into his fantasy.  In it, the woman was standing and letting her dress fall to the floor, before slowly and sensually removing her knickers to reveal a neat thatch of …

She was on him again, straddling him so close to his erection that he could feel her hair against it, and she was kissing him again.  He kissed her back, allowing one hand to finger through her hair while the other traveled down the front of her body toward her nether regions.  He slowed down when he reached her mound, and gently drew his finger down into her folds.  She jumped in response, then rubbed herself against him, forcing his hand in contact with his penis.  He moved his hand lower, finding her opening and investigating it with one finger.  It was wet and sticky, so he plunged a finger in.  His partner let out a wail that sounded like a kneazle caught in a trap; he pulled it out again.

“Do. That. Again,” panted Trelawney, who was now sucking on his neck. 

So he reluctantly thrust his finger inside her once more, hoping she would not make that same noise again, and pressing his hips against her to increase the pressure on his penis at the same time.  He spent a few moments pleasuring her with his finger, before deciding that it was time for action. 

Snape sat up, tossing Trelawney unceremoniously on her back on the floor beside him.  She cringed when she hit the cold, hard stone but Snape didn’t care.  He was too busy trying to adjust his own shackles so that he could mount her.  He finally forced himself to his knees next to her, then gently pried her legs apart, stroking her folds again as he did so.  “Are you ready?” he asked.

Trelawney only nodded.  Snape climbed between her thighs and struggled to position himself properly.  It was rather hard to do, the stone floor hurt his knees and he couldn’t quite get the proper angle.  He fidgeted trying to get it in, poking her several times but never quite fitting.

“Maybe I should help?” asked Trelawney.  Snape nodded, and felt her hand cupping him and guiding him to the entrance.  Her fingers moved oddly around him, was she prying herself open?  Snape felt the tip of his penis enter a moist warmth and instinctively drove forward, closing his eyes once again.  He vaguely heard Trelawney yelp in pain, but he was reveling in this new sensation, which was about a hundred times better than anything he ever managed with his own hand.  He waited a moment for her to shut up, then began to slowly thrust his hips again.  She whimpered.  He kissed her to stifle the sound and kept going.  He could still hear it but he was playing the picture of his heart’s desire moaning underneath him in his mind… her red hair splayed across a soft pillow, her eyes closed, her large breasts pressing against him as he drove into her again and again, until it was all too much sensation for him, and he came inside of her with a loud cry.

“Oh, Molly...” he moaned, contented as he pulled her closer in his afterglow.

“Molly?”  Trelawney’s shrill shriek jarred him from his reverie.  “Who’s Molly?!?”

“Nobody.  Nevermind.”  Snape tried to bury his face in her throat but she pushed him away.

“You were thinking of someone named Molly?  While having sex with me?”  Trelawney wiggled to try to push Snape off her, but he was still too overcome to move.  “How could you?”

Snape sighed.  “I thought it the most expedious way to relieve us of our virginity.  I thought that was the point of the exercise.”

“Well, yes,” she sputtered, “but that simply doesn’t excuse…”  Trelawney trailed off.  “Not Molly Weasley?”

“Whyever not?” Now Snape pulled away, offended.  “What’s wrong with Molly Weasley?”

“Aside from being married with about a dozen children, and being a little too well-endowed, nothing, I’m sure.”  Trelawney crawled out from under him and began searching for her discarded clothing.

Feeling slightly guilty, Snape reached out to her and took her hand.  “Don’t be offended, Sibyll, it was nothing personal.  I’ve been attracted to Molly ever since my third year at Hogwarts.”

She gazed back at him, looking suspicious and unconvinced, before turning her back to him defiantly.  Snape, dragging his chain, came up behind her and circled his arms around her waist. 

“Really, Sibyll, I think I’ve got her quite out of my system now.” He looked out the slit that served as their window.  “In fact, I’d say we’ve got just about ten minutes left.  We should…make the most of them…”

Trelawney turned back toward him, a strange glint in her eye, and smiled serenely.  She leaned close in, her lips almost to his.  “What an excellent idea.”

Snape closed his eyes and leaned forward to kiss her, but she broke away.  “Where are you going?”

“To make the most of my last ten minutes.”  She walked as far from Snape as her chains would allow, then seated herself on the floor and reached up her skirt with one hand.  Snape watched in awe as the seer, with more finesse than she’d shown with him, began to stroke herself.  She showed no awkwardness, seeming to know just what to do, as the one hand circled her clitoris and the other went up to squeeze her nipple through her dress.  She made it look so easy, Snape thought, watching her quickly bring herself to a very quiet but frenzied orgasm in a matter of minutes.  Afterwards, she lay still for a moment, apparently stunned, before readjusting her clothing and then licking her fingers clean.   When she was done, she stood and said, “Ok, I can die now.” 

Snape continued to stare at her in disbelief long past when Mulciber and his cronies came to lead them to their fate.  He hardly noticed when the curse hit him, so floored was he by the thought that she’d preferred to spend her last minutes of life masturbating rather than allowing him to pleasure her again.  Hadn’t he satisfied her the first time?

FINIS

Author's Note:  This was in response to McKay's "I don't want to die a virgin" challenge.