InsaneJournal

and two shall be the number of the snarry drabbles
So yeah I forgot to post this last week and so an extra one is attaching itself to this posting, blah blah blah. (Am I the only one who thinks about Bob Loblaw, the inept attourney to the Bluth family, every time I say/think/wirte that phrase? BOB LOBLAW. That was his fucking name. Frsrs.)

And because a) I am obnoxious and b) the lust to win at any and all costs burns through my veins like a hot river of crackling magma, I'm posting this link both before and after the cut: go read and vote!

Title: On a Silver Platter
Summary: There is NOTHING in canon that says for absolute sure that this didn't happen. Just try and find it, I dare you.
Rating/Warnings: R, dubcon, student/teacher, pervy-old-man-Snape
Word Count: 297
Prompts: Occlumency lessons, "Time waits for no man"
Notes: Due to a scheduling conflict me being a lazy arse, the one over at snarry_ldws is the un-beta'd version; this here is the officially beta'd, polished version. The use of the word "chasmal" is entirely _beetle_'s fault; she didn't tell me to put it in there but she said all these delightful things and then it was absolutely the perfect adjective and I couldn't help myself. Exciting times in the annals of obscure vocabulary!

It was futile. Snape had tried – quite assiduously, it is to be noted – to warn Dumbledore what would happen were he to spend time in a room alone with Potter, but it was useless. The Headmaster was simply too old and dried up to believe in a lust as all-consuming and utterly chasmal as Snape's was.

And so every Monday, Potter would shuffle into Snape's classroom, and it would begin.

Snape never even tried to resist; Dumbledore had as good as given him the boy on a silver platter.

They'd trade enough rancour to fill the allotted lesson time twice over, and Snape would plunge Potter through humiliating childhood memories – convenient how many of those he had – until he was splayed out, panting and wild-eyed, on Snape's floor. Then Snape would swoop in, hunch over the prone figure and whisper that there was another way . . .

Potter never failed to respond: his pupils would dilate even as he pretended at a rage he didn't have, cursing and struggling to get up. Snape would hold him down, murmur dark words into his ear, and eventually Potter would go slack, giving in to what his body had wanted all along.

Snape would undress Potter slowly, letting his nascent acceptance sink in as each shred of protection was peeled away, but once he had Potter naked and trembling under him he'd hold nothing back. Time waits for no man, after all, and half a lesson period was hardly time enough.

Maybe once Potter finished school Snape would let him keep his memories of these encounters, but until then he'd have to content himself with the methodical and the mundane.

His safety for the boy's ignorance, one pleasure for another.

It was a compromise Snape had come to relish.

Title: Tenacity
Summary: Severus cannot, will not, believe any of this is happening.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, if only for a brief dalliance with the F word
Word Count: 300
Prompts: Humo(u)r, "madness"
Notes: Alas, 'tis only pre-slash. ;_; And as usual my beta is the bestest beta of all time ever, not even just out of the Hufflepuff betas. Even when I don't like the drabble myself! gax

Severus was mad.

Harry Potter was sitting next to Severus's bed, and Severus was out of his mind. No other logical explanation existed.

"Potter." Severus said calmly. "Get. Out." Talking to a hallucination could hardly make matters worse.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're awake, Professor!" Imaginary-Potter sounded flustered. "How are you feeling?"

"Out." Severus snapped, ignoring the apparition's spluttering.

The Potter-simulacrum's eyes narrowed. "No."

"I do not recall inviting you into my house, Potter." Nor into my mind, Severus thought. What a pity his madness couldn't produce anything pleasant.

"Neither do I," Potter said. "I seem to remember you being unconscious when we carried you in, actually."

"I'm going back to sleep," Severus announced to the room at large. Enough was enough.

- - -

When Severus next awoke, Potter was still there, head lolling back against the chair.

"Potter!" Severus snarled, and Potter started awake with a grunt. "Did I not order you to get out of my house?"

"I'm not leaving," Potter yawned, his voice thick with sleep.

"You most certainly are." Severus glared at the apparition.

Unaffected – intimidation always worked so well with the real Potter – Imaginary-Potter just sighed and changed the subject. "Look, what do you remember of the last few days?"

Scoffing, Severus thought back. And there was... nothing. His recent past was a frightening blank.

"Out," he hissed.

"That's not going to work!" Potter exclaimed. "You've just been nearly poisoned to death by a giant snake, I had to fucking marry you before the Wizengamot would release you from custody, much less drop charges, and not even the secure ward at St. Mungo's was protection enough against the public. So no. I'm staying."

Severus simply gaped at Potter. Death? Marriage?

He'd gone mad. It was the only explanation.

VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTE

Picspam and suchlike from the slash retreat shall be posted tomorrow! It turns out I have a 10am shift at work tomorrow ick ick bleh. And I pour significant time and effort into my img tags, yo. Adding all these border attributes and shit... :P