The Oldest Profession - Answers
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1. The Princess of Gryffindor by Aurette
2. For Your Pleasure by LariLee (Eternal WIP?)
3. The Unfortunates by grill aka missgrill
4. A Man for Hire by Valenque
5. A Change of Venue by ms_figg
6. If He Were a Better Man by ubiquirk
7. Scented by Verus Lumen (Eternal WIP?)
8. An Easy Job by FriendlyQuark aka barriequark
9. Libertine by southernwitch69
10. Nocturne by Dutchy
Red Herring titles:
Vengeance is Sweet! by southernwitch69
And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After by Betz (Eternal WIP?)
1. “What would please you to start?” I asked in my carefully modulated tone, my practiced smile firmly in place again.
“Whatever you like best,” he answered. The voice. That voice. Oh, gods. It was him. I fumbled the plate, and he reached out to take it from me and started to pile food on it. He placed the plate in my hands and softly said, “Eat.”
I clutched the plate but couldn’t focus on it. I couldn’t see anything but his legs from the knees down. Legs that had gotten longer. Robes that had turned from tan to black. I did not hear the whispered spell that removed the glamour. I could barely hear anything over the roaring in my ears. I could feel. It was a strange panic, like a relieved terror, but I could feel it with my whole being.
I turned my head to the left and saw his black robes. His long hair. Strange how I noticed it was clean and shining. I lifted my eyes to his face. It was a blank mask. His eyes were hooded. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Why are you here?” I blurted out. A hand came up and covered my lips. It was mine. I was disconnected from myself. Was I going mad again?
His expression didn’t change except for a tightening around his eyes.
“I had heard you were in hospital,” he answered.
“And? So? Why do you care?” I snapped back. Anger overwhelmed me. “I have been in to St. Mungo’s many times in the last five years why come ‘round now? Professor!” He flinched.
The Princess of Gryffindor by Aurette
2. There is a universal law that applies to both the Muggle and the Wizarding worlds. It quite simply states that for every action there is resulting reaction. It’s been attributed to Newton, Karma, Josevus, and many other figures or deities throughout history. However, when applied to one Severus Snape, it simply meant that a man who spent the vast majority of his time being an absolute and complete bastard had to have some recreational release to sustain the favorable aspects of his personality.
Now, his students, his colleagues, even the Death Eaters with whom he once willingly associated, would scoff at the thought that there were “favorable aspects” to his personality. Softness, tenderness, gentleness -- these were not attributes one would attach to the name of Severus Snape.
It was quite by accident that Equus was created. Snape had been following Doña Ana Despero, a young witch who was believed to be the link in the supply chain from the Spanish Death Eaters to their brothers-in-arms in Great Britain. The intelligence in this mission was lacking. She was merely sneaking away from her elderly husband to spend a few hours with Lucius Malfoy.
In cognito, Severus had spent several hours in a seedy Knockturn Alley pub, appropriately named The Spread Eagle, waiting for Señora Despero to emerge from the upstairs room in which her rendezvous with Malfoy was taking place. It quickly became apparent there were two types of people in this pub -- those who were buying and those who were selling. Even disguised, Severus found it odd that a fair number of witches (and a few wizards) offered to buy him a drink, dinner, or as one witch phrased it, “his cock for a bit”.
To a man who had always considered himself the personification of ugliness, it was quite a heady sensation.
For Your Pleasure by LariLee (Eternal WIP?)
3. It was rather a big risk to take, really.
The more he thought about it, the more sceptical he became. But now wasn’t the time to back out. He still needed the information - any information, really, that could be useful - and by now he was willing to take a risk.
There was nothing else for it.
He was just going to have to meet this prostitute and see if she was of any use at all.
For almost two decades now, he’d been feeling rather at unease whenever he was around a whore. Perhaps it was because of the thought of a woman selling her body was just too appalling, or perhaps it was because of his past, the time spent in bad company before those two decades...
It probably fell on the latter, but either way, he felt there was something unnerving about having to lure information out of this prostitute, this Mira Gideon.
He didn’t even know if she was trustworthy.
True, Tom at The Cauldron wouldn’t have told him about her if she had been working for the Dark Lord. The innkeeper was very reliable when it came to that sort of thing. But... Well, he knew practically nothing about this girl, other than that many of her clients were important Death Eaters. What if she was a weak, cowering soul, who’d go blabbering to Malfoy or whoever the second after he’d gotten what he wanted from her?
He really couldn’t risk that.
The Unfortunates by grill aka missgrill
4. A wry smile crossed his features as he saw that the basket was nearly full. A few nights of giving pleasure was all it had taken for the gossip mill to spread word of his abilities. Now his basket was nearly always full with requests for his services. The person no one would date if they knew his identity was suddenly very much in demand. Ironic. Even more ironic that though he now had his pick of women, he still would never have that one true love he most craved.
Still he would take what he could get. Picking up the first request, he quickly scanned it for a signature and threw it into the fire. His requirements were specific. No married women, no one ugly, no hags or crones, no one whose letter sounded moronic.
Digging out the next parchment, he was surprised to find it to be rather thick. Unrolling it, he saw that it measured at least three feet. A quick glance at the signature nearly sent his eyebrows soaring into his hairline. Miss Hermione Granger was requesting his services.
The know-it-all had driven him nearly to distraction when she was at Hogwarts. She was brilliant, flaunted the rules, was driven to perfection in everything she did, and had grown into a rather nice body by the time she had graduated.
It might be a rather interesting diversion to find himself in her bed. He wondered whether she would be as willing to learn in bed as she was in class. If some spot faced boy hadn't already spoiled her desire that is.
Taking the parchment over to a chair by the fireplace, he sat down and read it thoroughly. What she had written surprised him. She was bold, assertive, knew what she wanted from him. Yet, she was still a virgin. A tabula rasa. He could mold her to his will. The great Hermione Granger, heroine of the wizarding world, could be his. For a night, at any rate. She would never know she had bedded her dreaded Potions Master. It was an opportunity not to be missed.
A Man for Hire by Valenque
5. "Sexual services, Severus?" Albus said to the Potions Master, who sat in a plush armchair before his desk.
"Well, Headmaster…I believe I should go with my…strengths," the wizard said silkily, "I am as you say…a hot item. Women are constantly assailing me with letters and photos of themselves, basically wanting a tumble. None of them want relationships…they just want a piece of me. That makes my ability a commodity. I believe I should explore this further."
"You're going to work in a brothel? You, Severus?" Albus asked him, dumbfounded.
"Of course not. I'm going stag. I am going to open an office in Hogsmeade. Diagon Alley is too unsavory. I want the women to feel…comfortable," Severus replied, "I have already chosen the location. My services will be by appointment only, after a consultation."
"A consultation?" Albus repeated hollowly.
It was as if all Albus could do was ask questions. He couldn't believe his Potions Master was giving up his job after all these years to become a…a gigolo. A wizard paid for sex.
"Yes. The fee for a consultation will be fifty galleons. The price for engagement will be a flat fee of five hundred galleons," the wizard purred.
A Change of Venue by ms_figg
6. He’s created an entire cast of ‘regulars’ for her by separating and compartmentalizing his various sexual appetites and moods into disparate personas. Polyjuice allows him to house these creations in distinctly different bodies, and a vocal glamour alters his voice and accent accordingly. He smirks, wondering what the Muggle authorities made of the ‘Haircut Harasser’ - The Sun’s appellation for him when he stunned and shaved the heads of a series of men in Manchester a year ago.
Under each jar of hair rests a sheet of parchment with notes in his personal shorthand. They list the name of each particular john, the particular vocal glamour to use, how to dress, how much to tip. After such mundanities, comes the more interesting information: which sexual acts to request, how long to last, how tender/rough to be, how vocal. Lastly, each provides entries on her responses: how wet she becomes, if she ever truly orgasms instead of merely faking. On a separate sheet, he tracks the frequency of each character used because, except for the three who see her every week on the same days - Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays - he varies the visits enough to allay suspicion.
If He Were a Better Man by ubiquirk
7. Bella sighed at that. "Well then, it's you're choice. I've heard a few stories about the box. It's usually a different color, I've never heard of red before. If this is what I think it is, it's your choice..." She muttered, still consulting herself, "The stories I've heard were about a man who... well," she flustered.
"A man who..?"
"Comes to you at night." Bella declared dramatically.
"At night?" Hermione gawked at that.
"And it's in accepting his gifts." Bella lifted her pan and spread the potatoes over a cutting board to cool, "You've accepted one of them already. He's not known to visit just anybody, Hermione. A woman would be proud to have been called on, but you're little more than a girl..."
"This is...he's a...what?"
"The last I've heard of this secret man is that he'd...visited Narcissa Malfoy. That was four years ago. I've stopped hearing about him since then. He's well known in the wizarding world, but as a muggle born, you would have had little chance to hear of him. And...it's peculiar. The first gift is always from him, but it isn't usually...May I see the box?"
"Of course, I'll get it." Hermione left as Bella wiped her hands across her apron and folded her arms patiently.
She was utterly confused. Bella had tried to explain the situation to her, but had only managed in confusing Hermione even more.
Scented by Verus Lumen (Eternal WIP?)
8. She left her skin its usual peach and fixed her glamour more carefully in place. Dressed in little more than leather straps and very high-heeled boots, she went downstairs to find her next customer.
She used "The Walk' when she entered the lounge. Perfected in front of the full-length mirror upstairs after weeks of work with Madam Nell, it exuded sex and confidence.
She paused in the doorway, just as she had been instructed, letting the customers get an eyeful, hip jutted out to show off her luscious curves, her eyes sweeping the room with manufactured lust. Nell called it displaying the wares.
The room had peach satin wallpaper and Queen Anne furniture in rosewood with golden upholstery. It could have been any upper class woman's sitting room, if it weren't for the nervous and excited men sitting about and the half-naked women prowling among them, offering drinks or far more than that.
Her gaze faltered when it hit the far corner and she managed not to start noticeably when she saw him. He was as out of place here as a nun in a bar, even disguised in muggle slacks and black sweater. The shoulder-length black hair was bound back, but the nose would forever be unmistakable. It begged two questions: one, what was Severus Snape doing in the "Heaven's Portal" brothel and two, what was she going to do about it?
A demon of curiosity motivated her to approach him. Curiosity had always been her downfall; she could never resist the lure of the unknown.
An Easy Job by FriendlyQuark aka barriequark
9. “Don’t worry on it,” Luna said dreamily. “We’ve got all night. I’ve no man to be worrying about.”
“Oi! What happened to that bloke you were thinking about having a romp with?” Ginny asked, handing Hermione her drink.
“He turned me down,” Luna said with a laugh.
“The wanker!” Lavender exclaimed.
“What the bloody hell for?” Ginny asked, looking shocked.
“What bloke?” Hermione asked, not following the conversation. She hadn’t known that Luna was interested in anyone.
“No, don’t be upset. It’s quite romantic, actually.” Luna patted Lavender on the arm.
“Getting turned down by a hired man is romantic?” Lavender asked incredulously.
“In this case, it is. Here, let me explain.” She pulled out a rumpled piece of parchment from her bag. “You should know, Hermione, that my cousin has been seeing a hired man for the past month on occasion. She said that he is a master in the art of sex. Well, I wanted to have a taste of it. I first sent an owl to describe myself, but I gave him a fake name. He wrote back saying that wouldn’t do, so I gave him my real name. This is what he wrote to me.” She looked down to the letter in her hand and began to read.
“Oh, how sweet. Poor bloke lost a sister, and he won’t bed anyone who resembles her. I can understand that,” Lavender said. “He seems to be particular with his choice though.”
Ginny laughed. “You’re just mad because you’ve only recently cut your hair, and it’s not wavy in the least. Wouldn’t do for you to owl him for services.”
Luna hunched over the table near Hermione. “Mione! You fit this description. Why don’t you have a try with him?”
Libertine by southernwitch69
10. He continued to sip at his wine, watching her with interest. He knew that somewhere in the darker corners of the room, her bodyguard stood, ready to stop anything that got out of hand with either word, fist, or hex, but he was no threat to the girl, so the bodyguard remained out of sight.
The girl twisted around on the bench to look at him, nodding towards the instrument with a quizzical quirk of her eyebrow. He said nothing, merely inclined his head the barest amount, and she turned her back to him once more, her fingers beginning their soft dance across the keys.
He found the song entrancing, and that in itself was enough to astound him. In the years since his world had shattered completely, he had become inured to beauty in all its various forms. It was not a song that one would expect to hear in such an establishment. It was not the husky crooning of a seduction, nor the sweet promise of a lover. It was not the jovial laughter of a raucous good time, nor the soothing hush of uninhibited sleep. In fact, if he’d had to put a name to it, he might even have called it a requiem. There was something about it, something so infinitely sad, that caught at his heart, all but frozen beneath his self-castigation. There was a pace to it, a subtle rhythm that bespoke vaguely at life and light, but it was a song of mourning, a song of despair, something with which he was only too familiar.
Severus started when the requiem ended, his long fingers clutching convulsively at the stem of the glass. It shocked him how relaxed he’d become, that the sudden silence could unnerve him so. He wished for her to continue, to keep playing, but didn’t wish to break the spell so much more profound than any incantation or wand-waving could create.
Nocturne by Dutchy
1. The Princess of Gryffindor by Aurette
2. For Your Pleasure by LariLee (Eternal WIP?)
3. The Unfortunates by grill aka missgrill
4. A Man for Hire by Valenque
5. A Change of Venue by ms_figg
6. If He Were a Better Man by ubiquirk
7. Scented by Verus Lumen (Eternal WIP?)
8. An Easy Job by FriendlyQuark aka barriequark
9. Libertine by southernwitch69
10. Nocturne by Dutchy
Red Herring titles:
Vengeance is Sweet! by southernwitch69
And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After by Betz (Eternal WIP?)
1. “What would please you to start?” I asked in my carefully modulated tone, my practiced smile firmly in place again.
“Whatever you like best,” he answered. The voice. That voice. Oh, gods. It was him. I fumbled the plate, and he reached out to take it from me and started to pile food on it. He placed the plate in my hands and softly said, “Eat.”
I clutched the plate but couldn’t focus on it. I couldn’t see anything but his legs from the knees down. Legs that had gotten longer. Robes that had turned from tan to black. I did not hear the whispered spell that removed the glamour. I could barely hear anything over the roaring in my ears. I could feel. It was a strange panic, like a relieved terror, but I could feel it with my whole being.
I turned my head to the left and saw his black robes. His long hair. Strange how I noticed it was clean and shining. I lifted my eyes to his face. It was a blank mask. His eyes were hooded. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Why are you here?” I blurted out. A hand came up and covered my lips. It was mine. I was disconnected from myself. Was I going mad again?
His expression didn’t change except for a tightening around his eyes.
“I had heard you were in hospital,” he answered.
“And? So? Why do you care?” I snapped back. Anger overwhelmed me. “I have been in to St. Mungo’s many times in the last five years why come ‘round now? Professor!” He flinched.
The Princess of Gryffindor by Aurette
2. There is a universal law that applies to both the Muggle and the Wizarding worlds. It quite simply states that for every action there is resulting reaction. It’s been attributed to Newton, Karma, Josevus, and many other figures or deities throughout history. However, when applied to one Severus Snape, it simply meant that a man who spent the vast majority of his time being an absolute and complete bastard had to have some recreational release to sustain the favorable aspects of his personality.
Now, his students, his colleagues, even the Death Eaters with whom he once willingly associated, would scoff at the thought that there were “favorable aspects” to his personality. Softness, tenderness, gentleness -- these were not attributes one would attach to the name of Severus Snape.
It was quite by accident that Equus was created. Snape had been following Doña Ana Despero, a young witch who was believed to be the link in the supply chain from the Spanish Death Eaters to their brothers-in-arms in Great Britain. The intelligence in this mission was lacking. She was merely sneaking away from her elderly husband to spend a few hours with Lucius Malfoy.
In cognito, Severus had spent several hours in a seedy Knockturn Alley pub, appropriately named The Spread Eagle, waiting for Señora Despero to emerge from the upstairs room in which her rendezvous with Malfoy was taking place. It quickly became apparent there were two types of people in this pub -- those who were buying and those who were selling. Even disguised, Severus found it odd that a fair number of witches (and a few wizards) offered to buy him a drink, dinner, or as one witch phrased it, “his cock for a bit”.
To a man who had always considered himself the personification of ugliness, it was quite a heady sensation.
For Your Pleasure by LariLee (Eternal WIP?)
3. It was rather a big risk to take, really.
The more he thought about it, the more sceptical he became. But now wasn’t the time to back out. He still needed the information - any information, really, that could be useful - and by now he was willing to take a risk.
There was nothing else for it.
He was just going to have to meet this prostitute and see if she was of any use at all.
For almost two decades now, he’d been feeling rather at unease whenever he was around a whore. Perhaps it was because of the thought of a woman selling her body was just too appalling, or perhaps it was because of his past, the time spent in bad company before those two decades...
It probably fell on the latter, but either way, he felt there was something unnerving about having to lure information out of this prostitute, this Mira Gideon.
He didn’t even know if she was trustworthy.
True, Tom at The Cauldron wouldn’t have told him about her if she had been working for the Dark Lord. The innkeeper was very reliable when it came to that sort of thing. But... Well, he knew practically nothing about this girl, other than that many of her clients were important Death Eaters. What if she was a weak, cowering soul, who’d go blabbering to Malfoy or whoever the second after he’d gotten what he wanted from her?
He really couldn’t risk that.
The Unfortunates by grill aka missgrill
4. A wry smile crossed his features as he saw that the basket was nearly full. A few nights of giving pleasure was all it had taken for the gossip mill to spread word of his abilities. Now his basket was nearly always full with requests for his services. The person no one would date if they knew his identity was suddenly very much in demand. Ironic. Even more ironic that though he now had his pick of women, he still would never have that one true love he most craved.
Still he would take what he could get. Picking up the first request, he quickly scanned it for a signature and threw it into the fire. His requirements were specific. No married women, no one ugly, no hags or crones, no one whose letter sounded moronic.
Digging out the next parchment, he was surprised to find it to be rather thick. Unrolling it, he saw that it measured at least three feet. A quick glance at the signature nearly sent his eyebrows soaring into his hairline. Miss Hermione Granger was requesting his services.
The know-it-all had driven him nearly to distraction when she was at Hogwarts. She was brilliant, flaunted the rules, was driven to perfection in everything she did, and had grown into a rather nice body by the time she had graduated.
It might be a rather interesting diversion to find himself in her bed. He wondered whether she would be as willing to learn in bed as she was in class. If some spot faced boy hadn't already spoiled her desire that is.
Taking the parchment over to a chair by the fireplace, he sat down and read it thoroughly. What she had written surprised him. She was bold, assertive, knew what she wanted from him. Yet, she was still a virgin. A tabula rasa. He could mold her to his will. The great Hermione Granger, heroine of the wizarding world, could be his. For a night, at any rate. She would never know she had bedded her dreaded Potions Master. It was an opportunity not to be missed.
A Man for Hire by Valenque
5. "Sexual services, Severus?" Albus said to the Potions Master, who sat in a plush armchair before his desk.
"Well, Headmaster…I believe I should go with my…strengths," the wizard said silkily, "I am as you say…a hot item. Women are constantly assailing me with letters and photos of themselves, basically wanting a tumble. None of them want relationships…they just want a piece of me. That makes my ability a commodity. I believe I should explore this further."
"You're going to work in a brothel? You, Severus?" Albus asked him, dumbfounded.
"Of course not. I'm going stag. I am going to open an office in Hogsmeade. Diagon Alley is too unsavory. I want the women to feel…comfortable," Severus replied, "I have already chosen the location. My services will be by appointment only, after a consultation."
"A consultation?" Albus repeated hollowly.
It was as if all Albus could do was ask questions. He couldn't believe his Potions Master was giving up his job after all these years to become a…a gigolo. A wizard paid for sex.
"Yes. The fee for a consultation will be fifty galleons. The price for engagement will be a flat fee of five hundred galleons," the wizard purred.
A Change of Venue by ms_figg
6. He’s created an entire cast of ‘regulars’ for her by separating and compartmentalizing his various sexual appetites and moods into disparate personas. Polyjuice allows him to house these creations in distinctly different bodies, and a vocal glamour alters his voice and accent accordingly. He smirks, wondering what the Muggle authorities made of the ‘Haircut Harasser’ - The Sun’s appellation for him when he stunned and shaved the heads of a series of men in Manchester a year ago.
Under each jar of hair rests a sheet of parchment with notes in his personal shorthand. They list the name of each particular john, the particular vocal glamour to use, how to dress, how much to tip. After such mundanities, comes the more interesting information: which sexual acts to request, how long to last, how tender/rough to be, how vocal. Lastly, each provides entries on her responses: how wet she becomes, if she ever truly orgasms instead of merely faking. On a separate sheet, he tracks the frequency of each character used because, except for the three who see her every week on the same days - Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays - he varies the visits enough to allay suspicion.
If He Were a Better Man by ubiquirk
7. Bella sighed at that. "Well then, it's you're choice. I've heard a few stories about the box. It's usually a different color, I've never heard of red before. If this is what I think it is, it's your choice..." She muttered, still consulting herself, "The stories I've heard were about a man who... well," she flustered.
"A man who..?"
"Comes to you at night." Bella declared dramatically.
"At night?" Hermione gawked at that.
"And it's in accepting his gifts." Bella lifted her pan and spread the potatoes over a cutting board to cool, "You've accepted one of them already. He's not known to visit just anybody, Hermione. A woman would be proud to have been called on, but you're little more than a girl..."
"This is...he's a...what?"
"The last I've heard of this secret man is that he'd...visited Narcissa Malfoy. That was four years ago. I've stopped hearing about him since then. He's well known in the wizarding world, but as a muggle born, you would have had little chance to hear of him. And...it's peculiar. The first gift is always from him, but it isn't usually...May I see the box?"
"Of course, I'll get it." Hermione left as Bella wiped her hands across her apron and folded her arms patiently.
She was utterly confused. Bella had tried to explain the situation to her, but had only managed in confusing Hermione even more.
Scented by Verus Lumen (Eternal WIP?)
8. She left her skin its usual peach and fixed her glamour more carefully in place. Dressed in little more than leather straps and very high-heeled boots, she went downstairs to find her next customer.
She used "The Walk' when she entered the lounge. Perfected in front of the full-length mirror upstairs after weeks of work with Madam Nell, it exuded sex and confidence.
She paused in the doorway, just as she had been instructed, letting the customers get an eyeful, hip jutted out to show off her luscious curves, her eyes sweeping the room with manufactured lust. Nell called it displaying the wares.
The room had peach satin wallpaper and Queen Anne furniture in rosewood with golden upholstery. It could have been any upper class woman's sitting room, if it weren't for the nervous and excited men sitting about and the half-naked women prowling among them, offering drinks or far more than that.
Her gaze faltered when it hit the far corner and she managed not to start noticeably when she saw him. He was as out of place here as a nun in a bar, even disguised in muggle slacks and black sweater. The shoulder-length black hair was bound back, but the nose would forever be unmistakable. It begged two questions: one, what was Severus Snape doing in the "Heaven's Portal" brothel and two, what was she going to do about it?
A demon of curiosity motivated her to approach him. Curiosity had always been her downfall; she could never resist the lure of the unknown.
An Easy Job by FriendlyQuark aka barriequark
9. “Don’t worry on it,” Luna said dreamily. “We’ve got all night. I’ve no man to be worrying about.”
“Oi! What happened to that bloke you were thinking about having a romp with?” Ginny asked, handing Hermione her drink.
“He turned me down,” Luna said with a laugh.
“The wanker!” Lavender exclaimed.
“What the bloody hell for?” Ginny asked, looking shocked.
“What bloke?” Hermione asked, not following the conversation. She hadn’t known that Luna was interested in anyone.
“No, don’t be upset. It’s quite romantic, actually.” Luna patted Lavender on the arm.
“Getting turned down by a hired man is romantic?” Lavender asked incredulously.
“In this case, it is. Here, let me explain.” She pulled out a rumpled piece of parchment from her bag. “You should know, Hermione, that my cousin has been seeing a hired man for the past month on occasion. She said that he is a master in the art of sex. Well, I wanted to have a taste of it. I first sent an owl to describe myself, but I gave him a fake name. He wrote back saying that wouldn’t do, so I gave him my real name. This is what he wrote to me.” She looked down to the letter in her hand and began to read.
“Oh, how sweet. Poor bloke lost a sister, and he won’t bed anyone who resembles her. I can understand that,” Lavender said. “He seems to be particular with his choice though.”
Ginny laughed. “You’re just mad because you’ve only recently cut your hair, and it’s not wavy in the least. Wouldn’t do for you to owl him for services.”
Luna hunched over the table near Hermione. “Mione! You fit this description. Why don’t you have a try with him?”
Libertine by southernwitch69
10. He continued to sip at his wine, watching her with interest. He knew that somewhere in the darker corners of the room, her bodyguard stood, ready to stop anything that got out of hand with either word, fist, or hex, but he was no threat to the girl, so the bodyguard remained out of sight.
The girl twisted around on the bench to look at him, nodding towards the instrument with a quizzical quirk of her eyebrow. He said nothing, merely inclined his head the barest amount, and she turned her back to him once more, her fingers beginning their soft dance across the keys.
He found the song entrancing, and that in itself was enough to astound him. In the years since his world had shattered completely, he had become inured to beauty in all its various forms. It was not a song that one would expect to hear in such an establishment. It was not the husky crooning of a seduction, nor the sweet promise of a lover. It was not the jovial laughter of a raucous good time, nor the soothing hush of uninhibited sleep. In fact, if he’d had to put a name to it, he might even have called it a requiem. There was something about it, something so infinitely sad, that caught at his heart, all but frozen beneath his self-castigation. There was a pace to it, a subtle rhythm that bespoke vaguely at life and light, but it was a song of mourning, a song of despair, something with which he was only too familiar.
Severus started when the requiem ended, his long fingers clutching convulsively at the stem of the glass. It shocked him how relaxed he’d become, that the sudden silence could unnerve him so. He wished for her to continue, to keep playing, but didn’t wish to break the spell so much more profound than any incantation or wand-waving could create.
Nocturne by Dutchy