Chicago Blues I
Challenge Eight: An Evening With Severus Snape
Title: Chicago Blues I
Author: redvelvetcanopy
Main wizard: Severus Snape
Characters: Narcissa Malfoy
Rating/Warnings: P-13/R
Genre: Romance/Despair
Word count: Exactly 500
Prompt: I need a shot of Firewhisky.
It wouldn’t have been so dreadful being around Muggles day in and day out, but these were American Muggles. On the south side of Chicago, young men trolled the streets on sultry summer nights, horrendous, bass-heavy music blaring out of their low-slung automobiles.
It made Severus Snape’s head pound.
Severus stopped himself from thinking for the trillionth time, Why here? Why me? because really, he knew those answers. After fleeing Hogwarts, Severus had sought refuge for himself, as well as Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. An inner city in middle America was about as far away from bloody Aurors, or civilization, for that matter, as an international wizard fugitive could get.
Hiding in a crumbling Victorian that Severus had procured and fortified with protective charms, they’d spent five weeks living amid the filth. Cooling charms made the rental bearable, but tonight Severus braved the heat, bidding Narcissa and Draco a good night. He needed an escape from confinement. An escape from her.
Narcissa.
Slowly, she was unhinging him, breaking down the protective walls Severus had placed around himself. She distracted him like nothing else-not potion making, not charm development, not even those damned Marauders. Prior to making the Unbreakable Vow, Narcissa was untouchable-Lucius Malfoy’s alabaster trophy. For the past year, however, Severus Snape had been her unlikely patron, and his mind betrayed him, seizing the role with provocative ardor. Following each meeting with Narcissa, her lips, thighs, and breasts would taunt Severus mercilessly at night.
Now, however, he was forced to confront her-and those dreams-daily.
Her perfume clung to his clothing, the scent fueling his arousal. Her robes, summer light, slid over her body as she moved, making him twitch with desire. Her low voice penetrated his thoughts even when he was elsewhere in that wretched house.
It was unthinkable, wasn’t it? He was her benefactor and she was married. Those justifications did little to quell the need that coursed through him, no matter how often he recited them to himself.
Stomping down the sidewalk, Severus petrified an alley cat sniffing about a rubbish bin. The cat’s eyes, pupils dilated, stared up at him as it flopped to its side.
Narcissa watched him, studied him, of late. Those eye…icy blue…wide and searching, inches from his face, coming ever closer, until…. Severus would inevitably wake up in a pool of sweat, cock rock-hard.
Bullocks! I’m a sodding Weasley during rutting season! As yet another hip hop-emitting car crept by him, he thought, I need a shot of Firewhisky! Spotting a neon sign that throbbed “Blue Chicago,” he made a beeline for the nightclub, no larger than his Potions classroom.
Severus chose a tiny table near the stage, requesting, “One whisky, a double, with plenty of ice,” before the waitress even spoke. It wasn’t Firewhisky, but it was the best he could do given the dismal circumstances. Once served, he raised his glass and thought, To you, Narcissa. May the devil be damned and the whisky free my soul.
Author's Notes: More is to come.
Title: Chicago Blues I
Author: redvelvetcanopy
Main wizard: Severus Snape
Characters: Narcissa Malfoy
Rating/Warnings: P-13/R
Genre: Romance/Despair
Word count: Exactly 500
Prompt: I need a shot of Firewhisky.
It wouldn’t have been so dreadful being around Muggles day in and day out, but these were American Muggles. On the south side of Chicago, young men trolled the streets on sultry summer nights, horrendous, bass-heavy music blaring out of their low-slung automobiles.
It made Severus Snape’s head pound.
Severus stopped himself from thinking for the trillionth time, Why here? Why me? because really, he knew those answers. After fleeing Hogwarts, Severus had sought refuge for himself, as well as Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. An inner city in middle America was about as far away from bloody Aurors, or civilization, for that matter, as an international wizard fugitive could get.
Hiding in a crumbling Victorian that Severus had procured and fortified with protective charms, they’d spent five weeks living amid the filth. Cooling charms made the rental bearable, but tonight Severus braved the heat, bidding Narcissa and Draco a good night. He needed an escape from confinement. An escape from her.
Narcissa.
Slowly, she was unhinging him, breaking down the protective walls Severus had placed around himself. She distracted him like nothing else-not potion making, not charm development, not even those damned Marauders. Prior to making the Unbreakable Vow, Narcissa was untouchable-Lucius Malfoy’s alabaster trophy. For the past year, however, Severus Snape had been her unlikely patron, and his mind betrayed him, seizing the role with provocative ardor. Following each meeting with Narcissa, her lips, thighs, and breasts would taunt Severus mercilessly at night.
Now, however, he was forced to confront her-and those dreams-daily.
Her perfume clung to his clothing, the scent fueling his arousal. Her robes, summer light, slid over her body as she moved, making him twitch with desire. Her low voice penetrated his thoughts even when he was elsewhere in that wretched house.
It was unthinkable, wasn’t it? He was her benefactor and she was married. Those justifications did little to quell the need that coursed through him, no matter how often he recited them to himself.
Stomping down the sidewalk, Severus petrified an alley cat sniffing about a rubbish bin. The cat’s eyes, pupils dilated, stared up at him as it flopped to its side.
Narcissa watched him, studied him, of late. Those eye…icy blue…wide and searching, inches from his face, coming ever closer, until…. Severus would inevitably wake up in a pool of sweat, cock rock-hard.
Bullocks! I’m a sodding Weasley during rutting season! As yet another hip hop-emitting car crept by him, he thought, I need a shot of Firewhisky! Spotting a neon sign that throbbed “Blue Chicago,” he made a beeline for the nightclub, no larger than his Potions classroom.
Severus chose a tiny table near the stage, requesting, “One whisky, a double, with plenty of ice,” before the waitress even spoke. It wasn’t Firewhisky, but it was the best he could do given the dismal circumstances. Once served, he raised his glass and thought, To you, Narcissa. May the devil be damned and the whisky free my soul.
Author's Notes: More is to come.