FIC: The Dead Bird for schemingreader

[maggiehoneybite]

Title: The Dead Bird
Author/Artist: maggiehoneybite
Recipient schemingreader
Prompt: Snape died loving Lily always, but he didn't die a virgin. Tell me about his sex life.
Warnings or notes: Unbetaed, owing to lack of time. (I never write this fast!) Death Eater evilness. Possible canon dodginess. Angst.



One morning there was a dead bird lying in the yard behind the house, its feathers stiff and rumpled. Severus had been digging in the earth, looking for worms and bugs to play with when he found it. He knew it was dead because it wouldn't move when he poked it and petted its head. He even breathed on it and said, "Wake up, little bird, wake up" -- but it just lay there, stiff and cold. This seemed wrong, but he didn't have the power to help it, so he cradled the bird in his hands and took it into the kitchen to show his mum.

She was a witch; she could do anything. This was a secret kept from the neighbours and even to a certain extent his da, who didn't approve of freakish behaviour and was prone to rages, but Severus wasn't fooled. He'd seen her make wilted lettuce crisp and green again with just the touch of her wand, had watched as burned pots scrubbed themselves to a shine and settled again in the cupboards, good as new.

Carefully he climbed the steps into the house. His mum sat at the table, hair falling into her eyes. Severus's da was out again, then; she only wore her hair like that when he wasn't around, since he preferred it pinned in place.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

Severus held out his hands, the bird a tentative gift in his palms. "I found--"

She jerked. "Get that filthy thing out of here!"

"But mum--"

"It's dead, can't you see? Into the rubbish bin with it, go on! And wash your hands before I sort you out!"

So she couldn't fix it after all. Severus let his hands fall by his sides, gripping the bird less reverentially now, squishing its head. Earlier he'd wished that his fingernails had been cleaner, but now the dirt under them didn't matter anymore.

"Go on, then." His mother's voice was kinder. "You can wrap it in old newspapers, there's a pile of them in the bedroom upstairs. That's a good boy. Just don't bring things like that into the house again, all right?"

He set the bird on the grass and then went back into the house and climbed the stairs to the second floor. His parents' bedroom was quiet. Dust motes floated in a beam of sunlight falling onto the counterpane through the window. In the light of day, damp and mould stains were visible on the flowered wallpaper. He knelt by the bed and reached under, hard wood digging into his bare, scraped knees. He grabbed a newspaper and pulled.

The paper had yellowed a bit, and the print stained his fingers black, but that was all right because the news-sheet was big enough to cover the bird. He was just folding the paper out when something fell from between its pages and landed on the floor.

It was a magazine, a colourful one, although the colours seemed to be all peaches and pinks and beiges. It looked sort of... flesh-coloured, and Severus realized that that's because it was in fact flesh -- arms and legs and backs and faces all jumbled together, looking strangely glossy and obscenely plucked. There are naked ladies in this magazine, he thought with a sudden flush. And men. He'd never imagined that people did things like that! The heat in his cheeks rose and his heart beat fast as he looked closer and saw plump breasts displayed, legs spread, mouths and tongues and red, red lips, and -- oh, a thing growing from a thatch of hair in between the man's flexed thighs, surely not... his certainly wasn't that big... maybe when you were grown up other parts of you grew as well... oh, Merlin!

He felt funny. His pants didn't fit right, and he felt funny. He wished the feeling would stop. It was odd and somehow dangerous, and he wished he could go back to his backyard digging and his bugs and his worms. Even the dead bird felt familiar after this.

He dropped the magazine and kicked it under the bed again. Then he ran out.

He wished it could have been Lily, but of course it wasn't. They were best mates, and aside from that one time they'd both got drunk on firewhisky and 'lost their good common sense' (as Lily later said), sex didn't enter into it at all. Instead, it was a Ravenclaw he ran into on his summer hols, the August after fifth year. He was visiting a maiden aunt of his father's in Coventry -- the old bat was bonkers and her house smelled of mothballs, but at least it got him out of Spinner's End for a bit -- when he ran into the girl on the street, purely by accident. Alice was her name. Alice Badgershanks.

She was dressed the Muggle way, as was he, and it was probably the lack of house colours and the unfamiliar surroundings that made them smile at each other in the crowd, like allies. All that rubbish about familiar faces in strange places apparently held. She was a pretty girl. Nothing like Lily, but pretty nonetheless.

"I didn't know you were from here," she said.

"I'm not."

"Neither am I." She smiled shyly. "Visiting?"

"Something like that."

"I'm glad to see a familiar face. I've been making polite conversation with elderly relatives for three days; I'm going mad. Unless you're... in a hurry?"

A polite way to enquire if he wanted her gone. Well, he didn't object to Ravenclaws much. "No, that's all right. I don't have any place special to be."

"Good. Want to stop in somewhere for a Coke?"

She talked sense, at least, when they finally sat down and sucked on their straws. She'd almost slipped up and done magic twice this summer already; she was revising arithmancy to get a head start on the new term; had he got a chance to do much brewing at home in July? Nothing about current fashions or who was dating whom according to Witch Weekly or some such nonsense. Her eyes were brown and her hair was straight and glossy, and she didn't mince and giggle and hide her mouth behind her hand when she talked. She looked at him straight on, curious, appraising, not displeased. If Severus wasn't such a natural misanthrope, he'd say he was having a good time.

When darkness fell she took his hand, and said in a quiet voice, "There's a place I know. Do you want to come?"

The place was an old cemetery -- a bit morbid, perhaps, but isolated and dark and full of nooks behind tombstones where they wouldn't be seen. She lay down on the grass and pulled him on top of her. He mouth was soft and pliant, and her breasts were right there, under his hands; she even undid the buttons of her blouse and shrugged out of her bra to help him. Severus could feel himself trembling. He'd kissed girls before, of course, mostly at drunken parties; had even got his hand under the skirt of one or two, but this was different -- she was so willing, and there was no one to impress, no nonchalant image to uphold, no house colours not to let down. It was just the two of them.

She kissed his neck and pushed his shirt over his head. Then she reached for the buttons of his jeans.

He bucked into her hand. "I... don't..."

"We don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, I just mean, if we can't do magic..."

"Didn't you grow up in the Muggle world?" She quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you had."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Knowledge, that's all. It's useful, wherever you acquire it."

He could feel his anger rise at this mockery, but then she slipped a small plastic-covered disc into his hand and he thought -- approvingly and with palpable relief -- that Muggleborns had a few tricks up their sleeves.

The act itself was quick and a bit awkward. She guided him inside her, and he tried not to crush her beneath him or cry out too loudly, thus giving away his inexperience in his eagerness. All the while, he was conscious of his pale and naked arse cheeks humping above the level of the uncut grass, probably gleaming in the moonlight. Alice laid her head on the ground and closed her eyes. "Yes," she said. "Yes..."

His body spasmed and everything went blank for a moment. He was conscious of gripping Alice's shoulders and breathing heavily into her neck; maybe even groaning a little. Then it was over. She didn't move, aside from caressing his backside with her hand; she seemed to be waiting for something else to happen. But what else was there?

He rolled over and did up his trousers. The grass was damp with dew and there was a chill in the evening air. The tombstones stood guard in even rows, some sunken into the earth, others straight as soldiers, watching the goings-on around them. For the first time that night Severus felt conscious of a weight of memory, an ancient and silent presence filling the air around them -- the air which they had disturbed with their trespassing. It felt creepy, like having someone watch you from behind a half-closed door.

"We'd better be on our way," he said.

"Already?"

"You want to stay here?" He didn't even try to mask the incredulous impatience in his voice.

"Oh. So just fuck and run, then?"

"What the--" He bit back his anger. Bloody cheek the girl had, thinking that what they'd done somehow entitled her to his time. "For chrissakes, I just want to get away from all these dead people. Not to mention any live ones that might come by. This is hardly private."

"You didn't seem to mind a minute ago."

"Yeah, well, I mind now."

He rose and brushed off his clothes. His jeans were damp and there were grass stains on his knees. All he could think about was getting away -- from the girl, from the expectation in her eyes, from the disappointed turn of her mouth. What did she want from him, anyway?

She concentrated on doing up her buttons; it took her a long time. Her long hair hid her face from view. Then she glanced up. "Walk me home?"

"If you like." Severus shrugged.

"Don't do me any favours."

"A little late for that, don't you think?"

"Bastard." She slapped him, but he caught her wrist and squeezed it in warning.

"You do that again, you'll be sorry," he said.

"I'm already sorry. Everyone says you're a right wanker; I should have listened. Don't know what possessed me to try to chat you up. Bloody waste of time." Her voice was choked, like she was holding back tears.

What did she expect Severus to do? Apologize? Hold her and stroke her hair? Tell her that she was beautiful, that he loved her, that he'd see her soon at Hogwarts, carry her books to class? She knew better than to expect that from a Slytherin. Especially after a one-off like they'd just had. Hadn't the ground rules been clear from the beginning -- just a bit of fun, no expectations, no hurt feelings?

"Right then." She hesitated for a moment, looking at his face. Then something in her eyes hardened and she turned on her heel.

In the place where they'd lain the grass was trampled, a darkened patch of ruined vegetation. Severus prodded the crushed blades of grass with his foot, but they would not rise again; the evidence of what they'd done was there to stay, like a stain. He watched as Alice disappeared behind the tall hedge; then he sat on the ground and leaned back against a headstone. Something like regret burned the back of his throat, but he smothered it at once. He lit a cigarette and watched its glowing tip light up his fingers.

Lucius Malfoy could have any girl at Hogwarts -- and frequently did, much to Severus's envy. Any girl except Narcissa Black, that is. Though Lucius was clearly interested, Cissy kept herself aloof, making it a point not to attend any of the drink-and-grope parties he held in his room, or at least to leave before the groping got seriously under way. She was better than the rabble, her actions seemed to indicate. People used to lay bets on how long Lucius would put up with her hauteur before losing interest altogether.

But Lucius didn't lose interest. When the Malfoy-Black engagement was announced shortly after their graduation, Severus had to admire Narcissa's tactics: she had set out to land herself a wealthy and powerful pure-blood wizard, and had done just that -- with nothing more than the occasional toss of her blond hair and the disdainful expression of her full red mouth.

The wedding was the event of the season. Carved ice sculptures, chocolate truffles straight from Paris, champagne fountains -- and Narcissa dressed in pure white, as if to emphasize the value of the bargain Lucius was making. The smug look on Lucius's face told the guests he thought the bargain was a good one.

Severus didn't object to transactions that were profitable to both parties but he preferred to call a spade a spade, and so when the third guest ooh'ed and aah'ed and said, "Isn't it romantic?" he left the banquet hall and made his way to the upstairs bathroom with the intention of smoking a cigarette in peace. But it was not to be. Within fifteen seconds of his shutting the door, it opened and revealed the inebriated face of Rabastan Lestrange.

"Have you got it?" Lestrange asked.

"Leave me be, will you?"

"But have you?"

Severus did. This was one reason why he was always welcome at Lucius's parties; his supply of magical dust powder was unparalleled for quality, since he could personally guarantee its manufacture and provenance. He took out a small packet and began to form white lines on the bathroom counter.

"This what the Muggles call 'charlie'?" Lestrange asked, watching curiously.

"It's similar, but the magical variety is clearly superior. The euphoric effect lasts longer and there's no need to worry about addiction. Especially if it's properly prepared by someone who knows what he's doing."

Lestrange chuckled and slapped Severus on the back. "Count on the Muggles to be inferior in everything, eh? Now, let's have some of that."

"Go easy."

Lestrange fashioned a small paper tube out of the Malfoy/Black wedding invitation and snorted a line. His face distorted in concentration, then pleasure. "Good stuff, Snape."

"As always."

He rubbed his hands together. "Now for someone to fuck."

For a second Severus thought that he must have misheard, then he decided that Lestrange had meant it as a joke. The man was drunk and high; it was least trouble just to play along. "Best get home to Bella, then. She'll be waiting."

"She won't; she's been ill, you know. Probably asleep already. Either that or she'll take my head off when I turn up drunk." Lestrange tilted his head, regarding Severus intently. "No, I think that you'll do nicely."

Severus had just snorted a line, and so his coughing fit might not have seemed out of place. But this wasn't just the usual stupid talk from Lestrange's mouth; this was getting personal. "What the hell are you on about?"

"I like your arse, Snape."

"I thought you liked your wife."

"The one does not preclude the other."

"Come on, Rabastan, don't be stupid--"

"I mean it." Lestrange crossed the narrow space between them and put his hands on Severus's hips. "I'm not talking about seduction or, Merlin forbid, a relationship. I just thought that... we could help one another out this one time. Don't you feel frisky?"

Admittedly, Severus did. And though he'd never felt particularly inclined toward men, Lestrange's hand -- now cupping his groin -- was going a long way toward persuading him to overcome his prejudices and branch out a little. No one was there to see, after all.

"Your magical dust powder is out of this world," Lestrange crooned, undoing Severus's trouser buttons. "Out of this world."

Nothing like praise to get Severus Snape going. He leaned against the wall and let Lestrange fondle his cock. Eagerly it rose, oblivious as to the identity of the person doing the fondling and not giving a damn. Lestrange gripped it and began to stroke it in earnest, watching Severus's face.

"Don't look at me."

"What?"

"I said don't look at me," Severus whispered through his teeth. "You can touch, but you can't look."

"Always the contrarian," Lestrange said. "How about we do this instead?" He turned Severus around and pressed him against the wall, doubling his efforts to get him off and groping his arse at the same time. "This all right?"

Sober and unaroused, Severus would probably object to being pressed against the wall by a male associate whose hard-on was by now difficult to miss. But Lestrange's stroking, combined with the drug in Severus's blood, felt better than anything had in months. He slumped against the cold tiles and let Lestrange lower his trousers.

It hurt a little to be penetrated, since Lestrange was both high and eager, but despite his inebriated condition the horny bugger could still do a decent lubrication charm. Rocked by energetic thrusts, Severus wondered how on earth he had agreed so readily to let his arse get plundered -- and why he hadn't done so before. Lestrange wasn't physically appealing in and of himself, but his cock was doing things to Severus that ought to be illegal, they were so good. On second thought, such things were illegal. Severus clutched at the wall and did his best to muffle his moans.

Lestrange wasn't so circumspect. "Oh... Oh, sweet Merlin..."

"Shut up."

"Oh..."

"Shut up, I said. Do you want to give us away? Keep your mouth shut, you stupid... oh... oooooh...."

Groaning, they slumped to the floor. As soon as he had caught his breath, Severus scourgified them both, then did up his trousers and kicked Lestrange. "Get dressed."

"Soon, soon." Lestrange waved his hand and smiled. "Now how about some more of that powder of yours? I need a pick-me-up."

"Did I wear you out that quickly?"

Lestrange laughed. "Snape, you bastard. Yes, you were exhausting. But it was Lucius's wedding present that's taken a lot out of me, especially with Bella out of commission. It's a lot of work, you know."

"There are such things as levitation charms, you imbecile."

"Oh, it wasn't anything I carried here."

Severus felt a cold chill despite the fact that the bathroom tiles were magically heated to adapt to every guest's ideal body temperature. "Surely you didn't kill any bunnies and wrap them in tissue paper for Narcissa to admire?"

"Bunnies? Oh, no, nothing so gruesome. Muggles."

The aftertaste of the champagne he'd drunk felt like acid in Severus's mouth. He could be fearsome with the best of them, but needless cruelty didn't come naturally to him. Unlike the Lestranges, who seemed to have a rare talent for it. "And was Lucius... pleased?"

"I dare say." Lestrange sounded cheerful. "It was some Muggleborn bitch that had spurned him back in sixth year. Served her right, I say."

"You killed a witch?!"

"Oh." Lestrange shrugged disdainfully. "A mudblood. Hardly a crime. You might have known her. Ravenclaw? Name of Badgershanks? Did her and her traitor parents at one go. Squealed like pigs, they did. Now where's that powder?"

Severus didn't answer. He was busy retching over the toilet bowl.

Later that night, as he held his face in his hands and felt tears slip through his fingers, Severus wished he had been kinder. Not just with Alice, though that was definitely a matter for atonement. There were other things too, stretching back to his miserable childhood -- the source of the rot in his soul. For some reason, he remembered the blackbird he had found when he was seven and the way he had unceremoniously dumped it in the rubbish bin. He should have buried it, he thought now. Yes, that's what he should have done: dug a hole under the fence in the yard, laid the little bird inside, and covered its beak and wings with earth, gently, carefully. Lovingly. With love.