Title: Ogey Bogey
Summary: Being dead sometimes has other perks besides haunting the shite out of people.
Notes:Thanks are due to florahart who is a complete doll, thanks hun for the insight. You're one tough cookie but it helped make the story ten times better.
There is a difference between being lonely and being alone.
Being lonely implied that one was looking for some sort of tangible connection with someone else, loneliness just happened.
Being alone was different, it meant that one wasn't looking for anyone else and therefore being alone was the de facto choice of those who are of a cross temperament.
Ghosts weren't lonely, or more specifically they outgrew it and adapted to a solitary sort of lifestyle.
She was new at this sort of thing and the time when she'd grow out of feeling so wrongly out of place and bored seemed very far from sight.
This thing of a place or phase she was stuck in was not how she had planned on going through death.
Thinking on it she didn't know what she had expected her after death experience to be. Whatever passing thoughts she had had on life after death hadn't included this.
This was worse than being dead, this was a complete state of doldrums, and it sucked shite.
Her perception of time was a bit off kilter, she didn't sleep or eat, her movement was half gait and half glide. They couldn't see her or hear her. She had tried to convince herself that she would have felt better if perhaps she could haunt the shite out of them, but realistically she knew it wouldn't do much to improve her mood.
It still felt odd to be able to go through the walls and the piping. The occasional mishap when someone walked through her and got a case of chills and walked off befuddled at the change in temperature served as a shock to her senses.
Like all things, being dead would take time to master.
In large part the war was finished, loose ends still had to be tied up neatly and swept under the rugs as they must be in situations like these.
Too many were missing, too many were dead, and not enough were left untouched by the awfulness of war.
People came together differently after dark and desperate times, Tonks had seen the differences in old friends, teachers, the "kids" who had, when no one was looking, become adults.
There was something savage in the way they ate and shagged. They all seemed less concerned about how badly they smelled and they wore their scars and bruises with an air of reverence. Voices bordered extremes of hushed secrecy or booming raucousness and fingers itched with the accustomed urge to draw a wand at every unfamiliar sound and shuffle.
Those left alive and mobile searched for the type of kinsmanship found only through the survival of something awful.
It was a time when she itched to smell like something other than old dust and feel something other than a perpetual chill. If nothing else she enjoyed the noise people had brought to the ruins of Hogwarts, the rolling of voices was like an immense beast that staved off unwelcomed silence.
The culmination of days into weeks had left her to her thoughts before people started in earnest to search the rubble of the school for bodies and clues and then later start to rebuild the broken parts piece by piece.
In those dull moments of waiting she found herself wandering, dazed, and unsure of what to do next. She had hoped to see others but encountered no one newly dead. She had found someone else though, Nearly Headless Nick, he proved to be a bit helpful.
He had told her, "Don't fret over it; it does take some time for you to be seen. It's harder than it looks."
"What is?" She had answered with an air of nonchalance.
"Being dead, a ghost. When ghosts are people they spend their lives leaving tracks, they are people who want to be around for longer than they can live for and they are people who want to make sure they won't get lost later when that time comes."
He went on talking about how when the time came she would 'pop up' and perhaps there would come a time when she might just disappear as suddenly as she appeared. The older ghost didn't have an answer to why things like that happened.
"Maybe they find a place in time to finally rest. Perhaps they find peace." He remarked with a smile. "Maybe they reach the end of their tracks, and perhaps they find something else entirely."
It became clear that these feelings of isolation would go away, eventually. She acknowledged that one day she might get used to this, and maybe long after getting used to it she would go to wherever ghosts went when they didn't want to rattle chandeliers and haunt the plumbing anymore.
For the moment though she was growing fond of playing silent vigil to old friends and a small child that seemed quite fond of blue hair.
Remus appeared to have moved on to some place other than where she was. It didn't hurt to think of him content and at ease somewhere, she had enough fond memories of him to be comfortable instead of heartbroken over his absence. Tonks was not one to take for granted things like that. The solace she derived from their love, and marriage, and son was something that would remain left untainted by death or time.
Currently she perched herself atop a pile of stony rubble watching the efforts of the students, aging faculty, and available volunteers to rebuild the castle. The collapsed wall she had taken post on gave her an excellent view of the proceedings.
To her left a fuming Hermione chastised Ron for quite nearly hitting her in the head with a large chunk of wall. Close to them lingered Harry and Ginny removing scorched debris from classroom doorways, well Harry was cleaning while Ginny seemed to haphazardly charm brooms to sweep while ogling Harry's bum.
In front of her the two oldest Weasley children accompanied by Fleur, who looked quite fetching with her hair tucked up in a blue and silver kerchief, toiled to restack the walls and then with a slew of sticking charms make them stay in place. A shirtless Bill and cigarette brandishing Charlie made lighthearted brotherly banter back and forth while they worked.
"Perhaps you could help?" Nearly Headless Nick floated up from behind the pile she was sitting on.
"Shhhhhh!" She hushed him with accompanying hand gestures.
"What is it?" He asked in a conspirator's whisper.
"They'll know you're talking to someone."
He looked puzzled at her answer but quickly picked up her meaning. "Yes, they have other things to be concerned about, anonymity might be best for you at the moment."
She nodded and toed a loose rock; it went flying to the bottom of the pile with a loud ricocheting sound. At the noise seven sets of hands drew wands in rapid succession and brandished them at the pile. "I surrender!" Nearly Headless Nick howled down at the group.
The tension was soothed and the teens of the group rolled their eyes and went back to work. "Maybe we should start work on that pile before it all comes down." Charlie looked at Bill for his opinion.
"Arhaps you should climb up ze pile first?" Fleur asked Charlie.
"Nah, too high to climb. Bill could throw you up though, you're light enough." Charlie taunted back saucily.
Bill chuckled. Fleur pouted but eventually a good natured smile came to her face, she tsked as she turned away to go back to cleaning up.
Tonks looked back to the older ghost. "What did you want?"
He collected his thoughts for a moment and turned to her. "The headmistress is having a meeting in her office, there is an issue. A mention of aurors was made, I thought of you. The ministry seems short staffed of people and perhaps you could be of some help to Minerva."
"Don't know how much good it'll do if they can't see me."
"There are other ways to communicate. You could always pass her notes."
Tonks looked skeptical and torn between making herself known and staying hidden away.
"Go, before you knock this whole pile over and bury everyone."
"Yeah yeah, I'm going."
She floated away towards Minerva's office.
"…-possibly hiding, possibly dead, possibly…-" Slughorn was interrupted.
"Being held somewhere. All investigation into the matter has been inconclusive up until this point." Kingsley continued for the older man.
"Yes, I know, nothing tangible has been found." Minerva removed her spectacles and narrowed her eyes.
"What are we to do if he doesn't return? Keep searching? We can't. Forget about the situation? We can't do that either in case of capture, because then we would abet the injustice by giving up." Flitwick stated, absentmindedly weighing the options.
"We need an available Auror to take over. We can't spend much more time on this; there's simply too much to do, more immediate circumstances to consider when allotting time to other…," She paused "…priorities." Minerva leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers after returning the spectacles to her face.
"There's no one to spare. We are quite busy sorting things out on my end Minerva." Kingsley intoned.
"I know." She sighed. "There's not much more we can do tonight, let us hope that letting this issue just sit doesn't…-"
"Bite you in the arse?" Tonks replied merely as an aside to herself while she tapped her foot on the carpet. Minerva's head swiveled distinctively in her direction searching for something there and finding nothing.
"Minerva?" Arthur questioned. The headmistress's head pivoted back towards the table and its occupants.
"There's not much more that can be done when we are weary and conflicted by other more pressing issues. I suggest we reconvene in a few days after more…" She searched for the right word "…tangible information has been gathered." She continued.
Grumbled replies were made as those seated around the edges of the room made their way to the door. Slughorn patted Minerva's shoulder in a comforting gesture on his way out, and as the last one to leave he shut the door with a quiet click behind him.
Tonks ghosted her way to a chair near her desk and plopped into it, the chair made a 'whoofing' sound and once again Minerva's head shot up. Her eyes scanned the room finally her gaze went steadily to the chair in center front to her desk.
"I don't know which one you are, but I can hear you." Minerva searched the room with her eyes once more to take in everything and again they came to rest on Tonks' position in the chair.
Tonks smiled a bit and banged the floor with the toe of her boot.
"Ah," The older woman's eyes sharpened. "Do I know you then? Can you answer?"
Tonks spoke but Minerva didn't hear her, or rather couldn't. Tonks rose and uncrumpled a piece of paper on the desk and searched for a quill. There was a pair sitting unused in front of McGonagall. She leaned across the table and knocked over an inkpot but dipped the quill in it all the same.
McGonagall tensed at the motions the paper and quill made by invisible hands but the creased lines of her forehead smoothed as she relaxed to the other presence in the room.
It's Tonks., Need some help?
To McGonagall the words appeared in sloppy scrawl on the paper, it floated then over into her grasp.
"Is Lupin there as well?" The older woman asked.
Tonks stood hunched over Minerva's chair trying to write while holding an inkpot in one hand a quill in the other, which made her handwriting barely legible. It was difficult not to spill any ink and write with the quill while Minerva gripped the paper.
Can you put the parchment on the table?
"Oh, sorry. I was making it more difficult, wasn't I?. Where are you right now?"
Don't really know, the ghost zone?
Tonks scribbled sideways on the paper from Minerva's right.
"Oh no, I mean in the room."
To your right, standing.
"Have you seen anyone else?"
"It must be terribly lonely."
A bit, not as much as one would suspect. I can make noise, I can't touch people, I can watch them, though, and listen.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Nymphadora." She warned, looking to her right.
Your eyeballs are in my breasts Minerva.
It was ragingly funny to watch her head snap back.
If you were my age and no one could see you, don't pretend you wouldn't be a bit of a voyeur.
"But I'm neither of those things and if I were I wouldn't be peeping on someone from a cupboard."
Yes, yes. I myself don't have much of an inclination to watch the young-uns copulate like bunnies.
"Yes, I can imagine that watching it wouldn't be as fun as doing it.
Oh la la Minerva, quite a risqué thing to say. You're making me blush.
"That's a bit double edged coming from you."
I imagine you were quite wicked when you were young.
"Age is comparative, Nymphadora. It's not how old you are, it's how you feel." Minerva chastised.
~Shock and awe~
"Nice to see death hasn't touched your sense of humor."
Who are you looking for?
I am an Auror, Minerva.
"Yes, you are, but you're also quite dead."
Well if he's dead it'd be quite easy for me to see him if he's a ghost and hanging around.
I'll peek in a few places and wobble my eyeballs around. See if I can catch him.
"I would appreciate it. If you find him…tell him...," She paused. "…Tell him that he is missed."
He's not the sentimental type.
"We are all aware of that but still it's always good to know people miss you." Her eyes wavered to Dumbeldore's portrait hanging on the wall. It winked at her and her lips curved in a smile.
I'll relay that to him if I find him.
Tonks wrote 'goodbye' on the paper and floated to the door.
"We all miss you and Remus too."
Tonks was already half out the door and couldn't bring herself to go back and write a response on the paper, things were already hard enough as is.
She set off for the dungeons. She glanced at herself in a puddle made from dripping water because of the recent rain and the missing parts of wall that let it dribble onto the stone floor.
Her face looked more youthful than it should have; her hair was a dark rose color that she had been fond of when she had still been a student within the walls she now floated through. Perhaps her outward appearance was trying to match how she felt inside.
Young and cheerless, a feeling she had been used to recently. She felt conflicted in the things she had had to do, she was happy to give her life for the defense of others and the greater good but regret nibbled at her innards. Sometimes she felt she had been too young to die, but then she would think on how all everyone gets is a lifetime. A lifetime can be short or long, everyone got one, the lengths were different but the experience of having one was the same.
Sometimes just thinking that helped the nibbling go away. She moved on sweeping over the puddle trying not to wonder what it would feel like to have water soak through her boots and socks, a sensation she used to hate that she now longed for passionately.
The dungeons were, as always, somber and damp and dreary, which made them the very place an angsty Snape ghost would most likely choose to haunt schoolchildren in. The corridors smelled like rot and water, and large pieces of stone lay in piles near the walls amid layers of dust where ricocheting spells had bounced.
This part of the castle had not escaped the duels and ambushes of the Death Eaters. Tonks pushed open the door to what she remembered from her own days at Hogwarts to be the old potions classroom. It was largely intact except for the odd toppled chair or array of broken jars, their contents colorful and strange smelling, and a person shaped burn mark on the western wall next to the potions cupboard.
She skimmed over the mark. It smelled of sulfur and English violets and something sour, and glass shone on the stone floor beneath it, along with a small tuft of hair. Whoever the mark had been obviously hadn't been quick enough to dodge the jar of nasty that had come their way.
Picking up the fallen chairs and pushing glass into the corners of the room she searched for any sign of apparitional antics or spiteful specters. Her leg phased through a toppled cauldron, which made her jump. The sensation was startling. She didn't realize the color-muted man had appeared behind her until he spoke. "I didn't think an Auror could afford to be that clumsy."
If Tonks had had bones they would have jumped out of her skin. "Severus."
She turned with a leg still inside the sideways cauldron. He looked younger, younger than she had ever seen him, but the look he gave her was every bit the type he had patented by being as scathing as he could during his time as a professor.
"I've hardly changed since my school days but Merlin you look like a bloody schoolboy." It was an obvious and unfunny joke but she liked the way it made him seethe a bit for being a right git.
His mouth set into a grimace while he glided to haunt a chair by his desk. He stayed silent.
"Why do you look like that? Did you fight for that young mug after you got all…um," She searched for a word to fill the blank she was drawing. "…dead, or did the Fates see fit to just make your outsides match your insides? You were always so youthful and sprite, after all."
"You're trying to be malicious and it's coming off more as idiocy."
"I haven't had years to perfect it yet. Give it time and I'll be just as surly as you."
Her face rearranged itself to match his and make inane faces at him. "You probably look like this," She pointed to the face she wore. "Because you're exactly the same boy being teased and all those things teenage boys do to other teenage boys by way of pissing contest. It's silly, and didn't anyone ever mention that if you keep your face like this," She made an unattractive face. "That it will freeze like this?"
He looked pompous and amused. It wasn't a bad look at all. Especially with the vigor of ghostly youth. Just strange.
"How would you know anything about my youth, doesn't seem appropriate that Lupin would gossip about his less than stellar pursuits. Or was that the type of thing he talked of in the bedroom, he always did seem to enjoy his pursuits of making my youth unreasonably tepid."
Tonks fumed silently over the underlying meaning. She retorted. "Don't be bitter that he never returned your affections."
It was Snape's turn to look pissy.
He also looked less tired, less gnarled by the elements of a difficult life under the sneer that plastered itself to his face. She knew he'd had his youth sucked away by dealing with students who tipped over potions and stirred cauldrons with too heavy a flick in their wrist, and that the routine of a life of teaching had added the challenge of having a life which appeared stable but was, in actuality not. He'd be a right attractive young man, she thought, if he didn't slouch, or loom threateningly overhead, or keep that ugly mop of hair in his face.
Tonks had seen remnants of this attractive but awkward and apathetic boy while he was her teacher. She surmised he had only been around thirty then and at death not quite forty; the years had not left him unmarked or unchanged.
Perhaps in a different kind of world he could have been brilliant or stunning even. Perhaps he could have been friends with his tormentors. It was all about charisma and charm, things a man like Severus Snape was not fond of.
"Your sense of deluded comfort is stagnancy which is quite the same as a nasty puddle. I grew into the way I am, people must change if they want to accomplish anything. You're easy to read, you are conflicted about being dead. You don't think you deserved it, people deserve to die because they live it's quite simple. Don't think yourself above me because you think you're at an advantage because you're trying to be content."
"If you had gotten shagged more in life I'd doubt you'd feel that way."
He looked a bit gob-smacked at that. As if no one in his life had ever said something like that to him. And then he scowled.
"And people like me aren't stagnant. We aren't upset at dying. We accept it, even if we don't like it. I'd be enjoying myself much more if my son could watch me make faces or if my husband were alive or ghostly, but I accept that I don't have that. I did once, and I was happy with it. I'm not sad or angry or overly righteous that I don't have it now because I took advantage of it while it was around. I had everything I wanted and now I'm sure I can always find other things to take an interest in."
"Like helping assuage Minerva's conscience?"
Tonks looked surprised that he had figured out her reason for looking for him. His lip twitched, like something was funny.
"Oh yes, I know she is wondering what happened to me."
"This isn't all about her. People don't know where you are, and they are concerned."
"Concerned, not worried. Concerned if I've been taken and am giving up secrets, not worried I'm dead."
"You'll call it as you see it, I suppose."
He just went 'hmmmm,' at her while arranging the unbroken potion bottles on his desk.
"You're not happy, because you've lost everything you could have gotten. Or maybe because you didn't think you enjoyed being alive."
"I was happy until you paraded in and started kicking glass around and smelling the walls."
"Happy to brood in a corner. You could be having much more fun than this."
"I'm quite sure your type of fun differs greatly from mine."
"You could haunt the girls' bathrooms, or where they change for Quidditch, or you could haunt broom closets and go 'boo' when the students get frisky. Be like Peeves."
"Minerva would undoubtedly frown upon that and I am by no means an old letch."
"Yes hard to fit that bill with such a youthful glow about you."
He ignored her pointedly.
"I wonder if ghosts can still shag. That's an interesting thought; I'll have to bring that up to Nick."
"I don't think you'd find many bedmates here, Nymphadora."
He arched a brow and snorted.
"Don't snort at my generosity."
"What generosity? You're being crude, as you always did in my class. I blame the Weasleys for that. Besides that, you're married and your humor is not lost on me."
She huffed and floated across the room. "I'll tell Minerva that you're fine even if a little blanched." She looked back as she glided out and he spared a glance away from his new task of ingredient arrangement.
"Something else?" he asked.
"I'm not married any more, so it'd be perfectly unadulterous."
"Ask Nearly Headless Nick if ghosts can also get headaches, I'd like make sure that this is being caused by the annoyance of having you around and that I'm not about to lose my non-corporal body, and unadulterous is not a word, Nymphadora."
She phased through the ceiling and ignored him, only partly because she had run out of witty quips to throw at him.
She came back the next night to find him picking up the pieces of his old classroom in earnest. It was as if even though he was dead, his attachment to being an anal git whose only source of joy was to intimidate young children and make Hell a tangible place on Earth for a few hours every day still lingered, even though he couldn't expect his job back, since no one could see him.
Or at least until he reappeared.
Tonks could venture that he would make a nuisance of himself when Slughorn started teaching students again once Hogwarts was repaired.
"All you need is an apron and you'd be a happy little homemaker, Severus." She sat at his desk rolling cylinders of parchment around with her palms. He remained enthralled with cleaning.
When he was satisfied with his work thus far, almost an hour later, he broke the long bout of silence. "Were you being serious yesterday? Or was it humor?"
The question was profoundly odd coming from him.
"Yes, to which? Was it a serious question or was it humor?"
"Why are you offering?"
"Maybe because I'm lonely, maybe I'm bored, I don't know, who cares what the reason is?" She looked for something on his desk to keep her hands busy.
"Why ask me?"
"Because I wouldn't have to worry about any sentimental admissions from you. You're not the type. It would make things easier to have a companion whose only role is to make me feel…less solitary for a while."
"And I'm your only choice, since tangible connections are difficult to find among a lot of ghosts who have already adapted to not needing such connections." He looked pensive.
"Well yes, I don't want to end up like that. It seems…sad to be like that, just existing."
"So you'd rather be a lazy mimicry of who you used to be rather than change." The response he gave her carried acid off his tongue.
She smiled sadly at him. "How Freudian of you to notice, a person who can change what they look like not wanting to change emotionally, there must be a term for that somewhere." She pretended to ponder the thought.
He merely stood there.
"If you were to agree, Snape, I wouldn't go around trying to play the Faustus character, going around doing things like shagging you and then looking for martyrdom and all that shite."
"How reassuring that you wouldn't fall apart." It wasn't kind or comforting in the way he said it, but rather amused and snarky.
She stood up and walked to him. "It could be a comfortable sort of thing to have going on until others can see us, at least. It wouldn't have to go on forever."
He interrupted. "I doubt it could."
The room was silent until she spoke up impatiently.
"Could we perhaps shag or something now?"
"Did I give you an answer?"
"Severus, I don't want to play games. Yes or no, it's a simple choice. To shag or not to shag."
He thought quietly for a moment, apparently weighing the ups and downs on both ends until he came to some kind of answer.
Tonks snorted. "It's not like anyone would see us."
He kissed her. It was awkward and it was painfully obvious that he hadn't had much practice lately. Whether it meant he was just rusty at this or if he was less than skilled she couldn't tell. She broke away.
"Yes?" He was all of a sudden impatient.
"I just wanted to make sure that you're not, well, you know, a virgin or anything."
It was his turn to snort. He rolled his eyes, and with his ghost being young it made him look less like his real age and more like a schoolboy. And she thought suddenly that if they were ghosts then age had all too suddenly become relative as Minerva had said.
And then she realized there would be no more birthdays. Ever. She was deeply saddened. His response brought her back to the situation at hand.
"No, I'm not."
He kissed her again and pressed her to his desk. It was an action that caught her off guard and sent her bum skidding across the parchment. She landed on the other side of the desk, her calves hanging over the desk.
It was a good thing she was dead, because that would have cracked her head open is she wasn't.
"I'm fine." She answered, lifting her head up off the floor.
She unhooked her legs from his desk and stood up, and then ran an arm across his desk to let everything drop to the floor. He glared at her. "I'll pick it up later," She assured him. He rolled his eyes.
"You look quite attractive when you do that. You should have capitalized on that when you were alive."
"There weren't many chances in my youth to put it to any use.."
"Well, you've got it back, your younger years, I mean, so you should enjoy it."
"I'm also dead. Should I enjoy that too?"
"Right about now is a good time to enjoy it."
He kissed her again, and this time she didn't fall off the desk and she didn't have any questions to ask. She sat on the edge of his desk and locked her knees to his hips. He was cold, but it was a pleasant sort of chill. His hair was long and she knotted her hands in it and pulled a bit, Snape seemed like the type of bloke to like things like that.
His tongue mimicked a rhythm that would occur later.
She pulled at his robe, which had too many buttons and snaps. He pulled it over his head. Tonks pulled back to admire him, and to help with the divesting of clothes. She raised a pinkish eyebrow at what he wore underneath.
"Why are you wearing that?"
He looked at himself. "The Fates must have a foul sense of humor."
"I guess they thought your wardrobe should match your youthful exterior. Or maybe you just had it lying around in a chest somewhere." She dissolved in a fit of chuckles at his old ratty Slytherin uniform.
"Your 'exterior' is a few years younger too."
"I was young at heart. It makes more sense if you think of it that way. Though this situation has some pleasant perks."
He leaned in close, his groin hard against hers. "And those are?"
She gurgled a bit trying to answer. He smirked at her.
"What eighteen year old who comes to Hogwarts hasn't thought about shagging on a Professor's desk? I did, though doing it with the Professor didn't exactly calculate into that fantasy. Are you blushing?"
"I didn't know ghosts could do that."
"Do not make me charm your mouth shut."
She pulled him close with his green and silver tie. "We can always play out that fantasy some other time." This time she didn't say anything about his blush, instead just letting go of his tie and yanked off her old dirty white men's shirt, revealing a purple and yellow polka dotted, blue laced brassiere.
Snape said nothing, though it appeared he had quite a few snarky responses at the ready. She loosened his tie and ripped half the buttons off his ghostly shirt. The starched white cotton hung half open and limp on him showing off a rather skinny physique.
He was slim but Tonks found that she was growing rather fond of his shape. He pushed her shoulders to the desk with a show of force and ground into her. He opened her belt with long fingers and pulled the zip down. Her trousers wouldn't go down further than the top of her boots.
Her knickers didn't match her bra, but Snape didn't seem surprised. They were a wild pattern as well, but he just pulled them down her legs. The damp spot was cold on her thigh.
She made a grab for his tie to pull him over her. He grabbed her wrist. "Lie down!"
The tone was forceful and made her hips rise in anticipation; while she was excited over the prospect of something very deviant about to happen, she huffed at not knowing what the gears in his head where working to set about doing to her.
Her sex throbbed for some attention. She wiggled on the desk and he took to his knees. "I've always wondered whether you matched."
He was, of course, talking about the strip of pink curls between her legs. "You and every other man."
"Don't think the warning about the sticking charm on your mouth was a joke."
Her head snapped up to scowl at him, then hit the desk with a bang when his mouth touched her cunt. His nose rubbed against her clit. She could smell her own musk in the air. He stopped to dart further down to run his teeth on the skin behind her knees.
He was an absolute tease if she ever knew one.
His nails traced circles up her thighs. The only sounds between them became a mix of heavy breathing and the sound of her boots knocking against the wood of his desk. His lips dotted along her strained thighs following his tapping fingernails.
She groaned when his tongue made a soft phantom sweep across her cunt. It traced every line of her, every dip, and then repeated itself. He knew where she wanted his tongue, he could tell by the way her nails scraped along his desk leaving flecks of dark rose nail varnish behind and the way her hair flopping into her face tangled when she arched her head back and her hips higher.
She could feel his lips curl against her wet sex in a sadistic little smirk. He was playing a dangerous kind of game with her that she didn't at all like. Her hand sought the back of his head and grabbed the long strands tightly. The games stopped and his tongue took its languid time probing her.
The rhythm the soft wet muscle beat inside copied another more familiar she hoped he'd get to. Her thighs tightened around his skull and when she came it was with her hand pulling his hair and pressing his mouth closer to her cunt.
She arched and fell back to the desk below her with a dull thud and a heavy breath. She relaxed her grip. "Are you alive, I didn't suffocate you or anything right?"
His response was a hard bite to the inside of her right thigh. She kicked him in the shoulder. "Oww!"
"You can't suffocate me Nymphadora, I'm already dead."
She chose to ignore that and instead compliment him. "You're ah…very good, with that…yeah." It wasn't the most eloquent way to put it but it meant the same thing.
"I know." And then he smirked at her.
"You're a git. Undo your trousers."
He slid his trousers lower than his hips revealing a turgid cock ready and not willing to wait for very long. She rose up on her elbows and reached for his tie, kissing him and tasting herself. One hand yanked her hair, retribution for her own actions, and his other helped him settle into place between her legs.
His hips hit hers and forced her further up onto the desk a few inches. Her hips rocked suggestively, then rotated, slowly, heavily, as he buried himself inside her. He slammed against her, then withdrew and assumed a steady rhythm.
He made a sound in his throat that made her sweat. One hand yanked up her bra and palmed a breast. She had a boot perched on his hip and a hand on his neck to pull him further into her. She writhed and moaned and moved closer to the forceful intimate probing of his body in hers. It felt deliciously raw and hungry, and a lot like falling.
A sudden movement brought his weight fully on top of her, forcing him more deeply into her until he drove the air out of her lungs when his hips surged forward.
Her throat felt dry, and the sound of skin slapping made her head spin. He smelled like ashes and old cupboards and musk, and she found that she liked it. Her thighs clenched and her fingers scratched his chest when her hips started to piston more rapidly. His fingers pinched at an already hard nipple and his teeth traced them softly.
She came with a soft mewl and heaving lungs. He gasped lightly and groaned into her mouth. She fell limply against his desk with him already boneless on top of her, both of them sweaty and deliciously sore for ghosts.
"Mmmm, that was lovely." She purred while staring at the ceiling.
"So then we'll be doing this again, I assume?"
"Oh yeah, course. What other way is there for you to work out and put some skin on those bones? I don't think haunting a girl's bath would turn out quite as rigorous as this."
He pulled his head up to scowl.
"I'm joking. You've got to unwind a bit…..-"
He thought of a few verbal charms that could make her shut up.
"Do you think we shou..-" Her voice promptly disappeared while he finished a long string of Latin words.
Snape smiled and pulled his clothes back into place and then yanked her trousers up while she yanked her bra down.
"I have to go back to cleaning now."
She open and closed her mouth to mimic him.
"I know another spell to make your mouth disappear."
She stuck her tongue out and pulled on her shirt, then she scribbled a note on a piece of tossed aside parchment.
I'd hex you into a glass bottle if you weren't so good with your mouth.
His ears turned red, but he didn't return her voice, so she floated out to find Minerva. She'd restore it, and after that was through Tonks planned to relay to Peeves that there was a classroom in the dungeons in peak condition to be completely busted up.
She had a feeling that if she were to do that then the meeting she had with Snape would turn out quite vigorous. In the back of her mind she hoped angry sex would be just a good when one was dead.