Title: This Scorpion's Tail

Disclaimer: I own nothing of this. If I did, would I be sitting here?

Pairing: Neville/Snape

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Hint of bdsm. Just a hint.

Summary: Neville has been asked to work on a project at the Ministry of Magic. Guess who is his partner? Things get a little bit heated and… wrong.

A/N: Originally written for the LJ user Inara for the Late Bloomer 2 Ficathon at Nevillosity at Livejournal. One-shot, unless convinced otherwise.

Baby is it sweet sweet

Sweet the sting

Is it real this infusion

Can it heal where others before have failed?

If so then somebody

Shake shake shake me sane

'cause I am inching ever closer to the tip of this scorpion's tail

-Tori Amos, Sweet The Sting

"What?"

The little word escaped his lips before he could stop it and Neville felt his face redden in embarrassment. Of course he'd heard what the Minister had said. Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow at the interruption and waited a few, long seconds. When Neville only shook his head slightly, muttering 'nothing' under his breath, he shrugged and continued.

"As I was saying, you'll be assisting Mr. Snape on this project. It's complicated, but I cannot stress the importance of it enough. Although Mr. Snape will be in charge of the project, that is to say the actual antidote, ahem, the potion, you will be responsible for the exact plant hybrid necessary for it to work properly. I assume none of this will be a problem for you? Professor Sprout, among others, has spoken very highly of you…"

Scrimgeour let the sentence hang in the air, his skeptical eyes roaming over Neville's shabby form. Whatever opinion formed from his appearance here would be most unfair, since Neville had been called to the Minister's presence while he was working. Neville tried to rub the dirt from his hands on his trousers for the final handshake and Scrimgeour gave him a tense smile.

"No, no problem at all! I'll be happy to help!" said Neville with a grin and grasped the Minister's hand and shook it vigorously, despite the man's obvious effort to avoid it. Neville's eyes sparkled mischievously when he exited the room and walked the long corridor to his office. It wasn't an office, really, although he'd like to think of it that way. He was barely employed, but he had high hopes of gaining a permanent place in the staff soon. Well, he hoped. He had done his very best, and he knew that he was good, well, better than good, in Herbology.

Now, on the way there, he couldn't help but thinking. Snape? Would he be working side by side with his feared professor for a minimum of two years? Of course, he told himself, he wasn't a terrified, little student anymore. I'm stronger now. We're equals! He thought defiantly and straightened up, which didn't make him look impressive. In fact, he was rather short. And dirty, and pudgy, and… well… downright ugly.

At least, that was how he saw himself. Seven years of being told so hadn't done a lot for his self image. Now, how his co-workers saw him was another matter… it was true, he was rather short, but he wasn't pudgy anymore. His body had lost its baby fat and looked now rather normal. None of his features were extraordinary beautiful, but the whole was truly greater than the sum of the parts. The light brown hair was curly in a way that made it difficult for people to take you seriously. If Voldemort had been born that kind of hair, he wouldn't have been able to gather any followers at all.

To be fair it was damp outside.

His stomach clenched nervously at the thought of meeting Snape later that evening. It was only a couple of hours away, after all. Shrugging slightly, he tried to tell himself that everything would go fine. Snape, ever the survivor, had no trouble surviving a war which had managed to wipe out most of Neville's old classmates. Harry had survived, against all odds as usual, but he kept mostly to himself nowadays. Both Parvati and Ron had died, Neville recalled sadly while he took off his clothes and entered the shower.

And Hermione… she was still, two years later, kept in St: Mungus for observation. That was partly the reason why Neville had decided to take this assignment. Normally he disliked the heavy responsibility that followed and the pressure… but in this case it was a friend of his, and he wouldn't let her down. However hard and uncomfortable it would be working with Snape he would never give up on this.

This is for Hermione. He told himself as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of hot water on his face.

Severus Snape glided silently through the corridors, glancing coldly at each person he passed on the way as if they were all personally responsible for his foul mood. He reminded himself that there really were only two persons to blame; the Minister of Magic, whose capability to grasp the process of scientific research could be compared with Gilderoy Lockhart's, and Neville Longbottom, whose ability to understand the workings of even the simplest potion was… abysmal, to say the least.

He gritted his teeth in fury. Work side by side with Longbottom for two years? The thought was ludicrous.

Walking the cold, stone floor down to the dungeons he formed a strategy. No doubt there would be more competent herbologists to be found, if only the minister would bother to go through actual applications instead of listening to senile old teachers!

This was particularly unfair to Professor Sprout, who was neither senile nor demented in any way.

As the plan unfolded in his mind, Snape smirked to himself. The gist of the strategy was simply to make Neville quit, by his own choice of course. It shouldn't be hard, considering the abject fear he used to inspire in the boy. He could clearly recall the wide, fear filled eyes, lashes heavy with unshed tears, the quivering lips and the trembling, pudgy hand holding the toad close to his chest as if it would protect him…Snape's smirk deepened and he pushed the door open to their joint study and fixed his dark eyes on his new partner.

Neville, having recognized the stride two corridors away, had braced himself and managed to smile. "Ah, Mr. Snape." He said brightly, hoping against hope that Snape would make an effort. He leaned against one of the desks and pressed the scrolls of parchments to his chest and wondered briefly why it seemed to amuse his partner. "Well… we seem to have been placed in the basement. I had hoped for a place with some windows, a little closer to the Green House maybe…" He trailed off, but managed another shaky smile.

"I requested the dungeons." Snape said coldly, voice dripping with contempt. "The environment and temperature are more suitable for my research." Neville noted with a stomach clench the lack of the word 'we' in his partner's vocabulary. "I see… well, the potions part of the research is important, that's true." He conceded, and then added firmly: "But we must also remember that the plant hybrid is equally essential in the making of this antidote."

The challenge hung in the air and Snape narrowed his eyes at his former student. Somewhere between Hogwarts and the Ministry he had obviously managed to get a back bone. He took the time to study Neville a bit closer. Despite the brave words and the glint of defiance he was still scared, Snape noted with satisfaction. It showed in the way the boy gripped the parchments until they rustled in protest, the way his eyes could only meet the older man's for a few seconds at a time, and in the way he chewed his lower lip nervously.

"Why don't you start working on it then?" Snape said finally, and Neville stomach flipped at the silky threat. "Yeah… yes, of course. Maybe we should… no, I think we should see each other tomorrow morning and compare notes." He breathed out as his former professor nodded shortly and began to rearrange the potions ingredients on the shelves. To think that some idiot had arranged them in order of color..!

Neville, clutching his own notes tightly, left the room quietly and walked quickly towards the green house. Halfway there he groaned. He had forgotten to leave most of his notes in the study, and was still carrying the whole lot in his arms. He had been much too busy studying Snape and trying to hold his ground. Shrugging, he smiled as he walked out of the damp, stone hall to be greeted by warm rays of sunlight. The dungeons were cold, unfriendly, unyielding, and hard, but the green house was full of living things, of sun and the soft trickling of water. This green house was Neville's favourite, by far. He had always dreamt of working here.

As he entered the green, luscious environment he reveled in the background sound of all the plants. It was like soft whispers, only there were no words, only simple meanings behind the soft rustling of leaves. He felt welcome and peaceful, and on his way to his working bench he stopped and took his time to 'say hello' to every plant he passed. Professor Sprout had noticed his unusual talent for this at Hogwarts and tried to encourage him as much as she could. According to her, a herbologist with this skill was rare indeed, but Neville had some trouble understanding this. To him it was as natural as breathing, and he somehow took for granted that other people could read plants just as easily as reading animals.

Two hours later he had finally reached his working bench and side desk and began arranging his notes in an order he knew would be completely in disarray by nightfall. Now, he had some ideas which plants to cross breed, but it would take time, and there would almost certainly be problems. There always were, after all. No experiment would turn out perfect to begin with. He grimaced at the thought of facing Snape in the morning with notes he knew would be difficult to explain or defend. To Snape they would be absolutely worthless, and he knew the older man would hate the wait. He sighed and seated himself by the desk, on which he had placed the only plant he had brought with him. A small but well kept Amor Essentia, graceful leaves dark green, teased the world with the budding yearly flower. It took its sweet time unfolding it, and Neville knew his dear plant would take at least a couple of months to open the beautiful flower. The plant was known to be fickle and very, very picky, never revealing its flower for someone it deemed unworthy.

He smiled at it and sprayed it a little with the water spray he had ready. The leaves rustled appreciately and he grinned and turned back to his notes. Now, if he crossed the Emeritus Plant with a plant with healing powers, preferably in the stalk, the healing aspects of the plant just might be boosted enough to act as a catalyst in the antidote… of course, it all depended on what kind of potion Snape planned on experimenting with…

Down in the dungeon Snape had reached the same conclusion, after delving into previous research for hours. He couldn't proceed to without discussing with Longbottom first. He sneered, for the first time regretful that he didn't study more herbology. He had always had a suitable assistant for that sort of thing, but Longbottom… how that clumsy moron could be of any real use was beyond him. Of course, he could think of some tasks he wouldn't mind the young man performing…

He smirked and imagined Longbottom's expression if he knew what his dreaded old professor thought about. It wasn't unusual for a master to have a relationship with his or her assistant. In some circles it was more or less expected. He smiled darkly and gathered a few notes, blew out the candles and exited the room, locking the door behind him as left. Almost as an afterthought, he put up a few hexes and curses, just in case someone at the ministry got curious.

The magic lights on the walls didn't light up the dark corridors nearly enough, but Severus Snape walked there secure in the knowledge that he in all probability would meet nothing more dangerous than himself. As he entered the green house he stopped and surveyed the surroundings. He had never been here and the many bushes, plants and trees made him suspicious. It was now apparently in the middle of the night, and the stars shone brightly through the glass roof, casting everything in a light blue shade. The glowing orbs illuminated it just enough for nightly visitors to navigate safely. If Snape was a poetic person he might have appreciated the way it made the green and blue melt together to form an almost aquatic feeling, but he wasn't. He only saw a million and one places for dark wizards and spies to hide. We're past the war, he told himself angrily. There is no need to suspect these things anymore. Not here, in any case.

Nevertheless, he kept his guard up as he strode through the veritable jungle to where he hoped Longbottom would be. He assumed his assistant would still be working, since he was. At least, he hoped the younger man was as prone to inspirational working sprees as himself. In the middle of the great house he spotted a working bench and a desk, and he walked towards it with growing irritation. It seemed as if Longbottom had left after all… then he noticed the figure slumped over the desk, snoring softly. A big ink blotch had spread on a parchment where it partially obstructed his last notes, and a small puddle of saliva had done the rest of the work.

A few candles had burnt down, one of which must have put out recently. Snape followed the trailing smoke for a moment then examined the rest of the desk. What a mess! Parchments and notes laid scattered everywhere, and dirt, pots and small bits of plants covered the working bench. He sneered and arranged the parchments in neat piles on the desk, at least. Carefully he lifted Neville's head with a pale hand and pried away the last piece of parchment. As soon as his fingers touched the soft locks he fought back an impulse to grab it harder. He couldn't help stroking a stray lock, running it between his long fingers, enjoying the softness. Neville made a little sound in his sleep, like a soft sight, and Snape tensed but did not withdraw his hand.

When Neville didn't wake up he bent down slightly and took the opportunity to study the features closer. He looked more innocent than usual in his sleep with the soft lips spread slightly. Snape let a fingertip run lightly over the warm skin of his cheek, resisting the urge to dig them in harder and force his face up for a hard kiss. He smirked. Who would've thought that this annoying former student would inspire such thoughts..?

Suddenly Neville's eyes fluttered open and Snape withdrew his hand quickly, lips pressed together tightly in anger. Could the impossible boy never do what was expected of him? He bit back the irrational anger and regarded his sleepy assistant with a sneer. Neville rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand in a very childlike manner which annoyed Snape even more. He clumsily felt around for his glasses and put them on, and Snape's eyes widened. Glasses? I didn't notice he has glasses! Usually, his attention to details was impeccable, and that he had missed this only fueled his irritation.

Neville yawned and put his glasses on. So he had managed to fall asleep at his desk again… what a surprise. It had been the weirdest dream; he remembered only a nice comfortable feeling. He blinked a couple of times and looked around, yelped and nearly fell off his chair. "Professor..! I mean, Mr. Snape! What are you doing here?" He gasped and felt his face grow warm in embarrassment. Snape crossed his arms and looked down his nose at him and Neville averted his eyes and fiddled with his quill. "I came to discuss the project with my assistant." Snape said coldly and Neville felt the shame color his cheeks bright red, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and he should be allowed to be asleep. Snape made it sound as if he was asleep at his working place, and granted, he was, but…

He swallowed and looked around for his most recent notes. He was sure they had been here somewhere. Snape held them out to him and he took them and frowned at the older man. "Where did you get these?" He said, annoyed that the other had seen them before he could present them. Snape raised an eyebrow and looked him in the eye. "From under your head, Mr. Longbottom. There was drool on them." He said and Neville blushed again, not missing them sadistic glint of amusement in his former teacher's eyes.

"Alright then… well… I have some ideas, but first I have to know what kind of potion you're going to make." Neville said and fiddled with his quill as Snape leaned against his desk. They could sense each other's body warmth clearly, and while it made Neville a bit nervous, Snape enjoyed it immensely.

Snape explained what kind of potion he was after and was impressed against his will when Neville understood most of it. They discussed different approaches on the matter at hand, and both of them were surprised to find themselves enjoying the conversation. In the end they agreed on what they would do, and when the dawn came sliding through the window panes they called it a night.

Neville had also been situated in the dungeons, but unlike Snape he found the chilly darkness rather spooky. When he finally closed the door to his quarters behind him he breathed out loudly and slumped against the wood frame. As he relaxed he felt how tired he was and stripped and climbed into the big four poster bed. He flinched as his bare feet hit the stone floor. How Snape put up with it was beyond him!

As the other's name entered his mind, other images came unbidden, taunting Neville as he lay hidden under the covers. The cruel curve of his upper lip, the sneer which somehow sent a delicious tingle down his spine…and his voice, dark and rich with forbidden promises…

Neville pulled the covers over his head in an attempt to block out the unwanted thoughts. He simply refused to believe this… this insanity! It was Snape, for Merlin's sake! He was afraid of him, so it was impossible to be attracted to him, wasn't it?

Wasn't it..?

Unhappy and unwillingly aroused, Neville finally fell asleep.

Alone in his own chambers, Snape contemplated the problem he thought of as Longbottom, or vice versa. He just knew the younger man was still a virgin, not because of his sad love life at Hogwarts, but only because he prided himself on having a sixth sense about those things. That made Neville all the more intriguing.

Snape smirked and leaned against the headboard of his bed, imagining those innocent eyes widen and fill with tears. At the thought his organ hardened and he stroked it roughly while indulging himself in his darkest fantasies.

After all, a bad childhood was only one of the reasons he joined the Death Eaters.

In his mind he left several marks on Neville's soft, pliant body, and the young man was keening as the pain-mixed pleasure ripped through his body. I didn't take long for the ex-Death Eater to finish after that, and cleaned himself up thoroughly afterwards, while contemplating his next step.

A week later the tension between them was almost palpable, and Neville could barely look at his former teacher. He imagined he was alone in his predicament and was completely unaware of the intense looks Snape threw his way. They were currently sitting in the dungeons in the late afternoon. Neville had done his days work and returned to the dungeons to discuss a few things with his partner. "I'm telling you, this is not going to work! We have to find another way! I can't think of a single plant with the abilities you describe!" Neville sighed, frustrated and tired. He had done his best in the green house, and had really thought he had made an important discovery, but Snape was of a different opinion. The older man sneered at him resentfully while making notes so sharply the quill bit right through the parchment.

"The fact that you can't think of any does not mean that plant does not exist, Longbottom!" he snarled viciously and slammed another blank parchment on his desk. "Put some effort into it! I won't see this project ruined because of your incompetence!" Neville felt tears sting his eyes at the injustice, and he fought them back with all his might.

"I'm not incompetent, Mr. Snape." He said coolly, but couldn't keep a slight tremble out if his voice. "You may check with other scholars on the subject, but I think you will find that I'm right." He put a certain weight on the word 'scholar', pointing out the fact that Snape was no expert in that particular subject himself.

This little barb was not lost on Snape, and his eyes narrowed dangerously as he prepared to deliver a sting of his own.

"Excuse me. Are you Mr. Longbottom?"

The polite voice caught them both of guard and they turned towards the doorway, where an elegant redhead stood holding a notebook and a quill. He smiled thinly and arched an eyebrow at them, as if to ask: "Well?"

Neville blinked and blushed, a fact which Snape noted darkly, and stood up with a friendly smile. "Yes?" He said cheerfully, as if trying to erase the previous tension in the room. "Ah, good. If it's not too much trouble, I need you on another project of mine as well as this one. My name is Percy, by the way. Percy Weasly." The redhead said with a bored drawl.

"Percy? Don't you recognize me? I'm Neville!" Neville laughed and his eyes glittered in amusement. Snape noted the interested spark in Percy's eyes and gritted his teeth. Before Percy could answer his cold voice cut through the room like a knife. "Aren't you forgetting something, Longbottom?" He said. "This project is important… to everyone. And it will not do to neglect it." The last words dripped silky threats in Neville's ear, and he shivered. "Oh, come now, Mr. Snape. Surely it wouldn't hurt to help out an old friend in need." He mumbled and couldn't look at him.

Percy sighed impatiently. "Splendid. Let's go." He left the room, and Neville made to follow when Snape's hand gripped his wrist like steel claws. He leaned in close and whispered in the young man's ear. "Do not forget where you belong, Longbottom." He hissed and let him go abruptly. Neville staggered back, clutching his wrist. He stared at Snape in silence for a few long seconds, the left the room hastily with burning cheeks.

Snape watched him leave with a poisonous thorn in his heart. This wasn't at all what he had planned…

A few weeks went by like that. Neville and Snape worked side by side, but each time they thought they had reached the end of the rainbow some unforeseen problem reared its head and the antidote failed once more. That was only to be expected that early in the research, but what aggravated Snape something fierce was Percy. The handsome young man came in at least four times the first two weeks to borrow Neville for some meaningless task. After that he took to picking Neville up after late hour work in the green house and walking him back to his rooms almost every day.

He had tried several times to get Neville alone himself, but his former student was resisting his advances time and time again. Snape told himself it had to be worth the wait, but when he saw how easily Neville walked and talked with Percy he hated the redhead with a passion he hadn't felt since his death eater days.

This was unacceptable. Neville had clearly had more than enough time to get used to the fact that they were attracted to one another, and he would call out the famous Gryffindor courage this very night.

Snape threw aside his quill and arranged his notes neatly for the next day, before he left for the green house. He knew that he had quite a lot of time before Neville stopped working, so that he could be there long before Percy showed up.

As he neared the green house he heard voices, faintly through the glass, but still.

"Come on, Neville, you know you want to.."

"No, Percy, stop it. It's not going to happen."

"Yeah, right. We've talked about this, Neville."

"No! It's not natural, just… gross."

"Oh please! I won't take no for an answer, just open your mouth."

A red light flared and Percy lay sprawled on his back a few yards away, oysters clattering to the ground around him. Neville gaped and spun around. Snape stood there, sneering violently at the unconscious man with his wand still pointed against him. The dark eyes were cold and unmerciful, and it was only Neville's courage that made him talk.

"Severus..?" He said in a tiny voice he didn't recognize himself. "What are you doing?" Snape shifted his eyes slowly to stare at him and Neville trembled. Without another word, Snape crossed the distance between them with long strides and took a firm hold of his neck with one hand and placed the other on his hip. They stared at each other, out of breath and both very obviously aroused.

The air around them was humid and warm, increasing Neville's blush. "What were you doing?" Snape hissed with his face oh so close to Neville's. Neville thought that he was going to drown in those, dark, bottomless eyes and he swallowed nervously. "We were having dinner." He whispered breathlessly and shifted his eyes slowly to Snape's lips instead of his eyes.

Snape noticed the change and smirked before descending on the pouty lips of his victim. Hi answer had pleased him, so he didn't bite the red lips half as hard as he had planned. Only a small drop of blood was drawn and Neville gasped and, Snape noticed, hardened. He licked the red spot tenderly and began kissing him more deeply, thoroughly exploring the sweet lips which parted so willingly beneath his. His hand delved deeper into the blonde locks and he pulled the younger man's head back as he covered his neck and throat in bites and lick.

Neville's moans grew louder and louder until he finally tried to move away. "No, Neville." Snape hissed between bites. "Give yourself to me now." He held him in a firm grip and used his other hand to search beneath his robes. "No, Severus, please…" Neville moaned, but held unto the older man's shoulders for dear life. Snape felt him jerk as he found naked skin beneath the soft fabric and stroked him harshly. "I c-c-can't..!" Neville stuttered and spread his legs a little bit more.

Snape stilled his hand suddenly and Neville almost sobbed in frustration. "I see." He said softly in his ear. "Well, maybe I should stop..." Neville blushed and hid his face in Snape's shoulder, which Snape secretly found pleasing. He felt him shake his head no. "That will not do, Neville. That will not do at all." He said sternly and refused to move his hand no matter how Neville's hips moved.

Neville shivered in his arms. This was too much! All his senses were overcome and conquered. His voice! The way he spoke Neville's name… like it was a dirty secret they both shared…

He pressed his wet lips against Snape's pale skin and mumbled "Please…". Now it was Snape's turn to shiver in anticipation. The young man was a natural! He would enjoy teaching him the extreme pleasures to be found in darkness.

Neville blushed again and tried to say something. He coughed, blushed and tried again. "Um.. I've never… you know… before… please, Severus." What he was begging for was unclear even for Neville, but Snape interpreted it correctly and pushed him firmly against his working bench and lifted him up easily. Neville gaped in astonishment. He hadn't thought Snape to be so strong! Then he lost all thought again as the long pale fingers loosened his robes and opened them to reveal his nakedness to the older man.

Snape pulled back slightly, only leaving his hands on Neville's knees to keep his legs parted. "Touch yourself." He commanded and Neville gasped and shook his head. "No… don't make me." He whispered, looking up at his tormentor with half lidded eyes, glazed with lust and something more…

Snape smirked knowingly, and then struck lighting fast as a snake, taking a firm hold of Neville's jaw and twisting his face to look at him. He allowed the delicious fear to settle in Neville's' skin and watched in satisfaction as his organ swelled and a drip of precum became visible on the glistening head. Digging his fingers deep into the soft cheeks he sneered down at the trembling young man.

"Do it now, Neville. Further delay will have dire… consequences." He drawled, knowing already what Neville's decision would be. Further down the road he would choose to disobey, the consequences being the real treat, but right now he was still so very innocent. But for now…

A trembling hand reached for his leaking sex, and began to touch it hesitantly. Snape smiled like a shark and watched Neville's face. He wouldn't want to miss the look of complete rapture on his face when he came. Almost as an afterthought, he pushed two long fingers past Neville's swollen lips and wet them despite his muffled protests. When he pulled them out Neville stared at him, wide eyed and a little bit scared. "No..!" He pleaded and Snape narrowed his eyes at him, glancing at the hand working the sex furiously. He raised an eyebrow at Neville, who blushed.

Reveling in the feeling of complete control, Snape forced two fingers inside of him at the same time, knowing full well it would cause the younger man unnecessary pain this first time. As expected, Neville howled and tried to move away, but the probing fingers continued to fuck him mercilessly.

"Listen to me, Neville." Snape hissed suddenly, face close and cruel. "I will fuck you now. You can choose to do as I say, when I say it. Good boys get rewards. Bad boys get… other things. What are you going to do, Neville?" The soft threats cut through the pain and left Neville open and trembling. "I'll do as you say. Just please… "He sobbed and Snape bent down and licked his tears away.

"Good boy." He whispered and kissed him with just a hint of tenderness, which seemed to calm his victim down somewhat. Although his breath hitched again as Snape hooked his legs over his shoulders and nudges his opening with something much bigger than two fingers. Somehow it had escaped Neville's attention when Snape had managed to get his robes out of the way. All thought fled him as the monstrous cock began to work its way inside of him. He whimpered and covered his face with his hands, refusing to look at his tormentor.

Snape growled and grabbed his hands, pulling them up and out, slamming them down again unto the desk. Neville gasped as it slid the whole way in, and Snape licked his lips. That précis moment of full penetration… he liked it. He ran his hands over the soft body possessively, stopping here and there to tweak a nipple or run his nails down an especially fair piece of skin.

Seconds later they were like animals, grunting and clawing at each other. Snape established dominance time and time again with harsh bites and licks, and Neville strained against him, pushing back, mewling and moaning in rapture. In the end there was only Snape's voice in Neville's universe, telling him what he was, what he liked, and what he was going to do to him in the future.

With a final growl, Snape grabbed his hair and hissed at him. "Touch yourself." Neville moaned and reached for his organ at once at once, bringing himself to a screaming climax within seconds. Snape followed with a roar and emptied himself inside of him.

Neville awoke hours later in an unfamiliar bed, sore all over and confused. Then the last thing he remembered came rushing back to him like a tidal wave. He panicked and tried to get his eyes used to the darkness. He almost screamed in terror as a strong arm pulled him down into the bed again.

"Stop your fretting, you insufferable prat." A very familiar voice drawled impatiently and he relaxed somewhat. "Severus!" He whispered and curled up against him. "I wasn't sure you'd… I mean…" He fell silent and he felt the arm around his waist harden. Then a thought struck him.

"Percy! I forgot all about him!" He said and tried to turn to face Snape in the darkness. Snape sighed and let him roll over. It had felt so good with Neville's soft arse against him, too…

"Forget him." He muttered darkly.

"But…"

"He'll live." Snape interrupted shortly and began to massage Neville's sore behind. The distraction worked like a charm and he moaned in pain and just a little bit pleasure. "Oh! Not now, I couldn't bare it."

Snape smiled. Even the darkness couldn't hide Neville's real inclinations.

A/N: Ah, short and sweet! Or is it? Do you want more? Did you like it?

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