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What a horrid place he’d been sent to! The very air reeked of coal fires and unwashed bodies. A coat of grime and soot covered the buildings. People dumped rubbish and other, less savoury items into the streets. Muggle cities, Snape decided, reminded him of his dotty aunt’s parlour: crammed full of none-too-clean, and questionably useful … he paused to assess a shapeless and toothless Muggle picking through a dustbin … things.
The Order needed help, however, and he was willing to endure Muggle filth if that was the price required. Dumbledore, after a two-day marathon of research, had determined that their only hope lay in the mind of one man -- one Muggle man from the past. Evidently, he was some sort of rare Genius Muggle. Snape supposed that even some Muggles must be above average intelligence, just as some wizarding folk were squibs. The Muggle Queen put this fellow’s brain to use solving crimes for the country. Dumbledore put Snape’s brain to use seeking through the past to locate the man in London. Then, Snape had been sent into the past with a message.
He sniffed reflectively. Though the majority of people blundered about, oblivious to most of their surroundings, he saw no reason why an intelligent being could not, using logic and deductive reasoning, determine the correct solution to any difficulty. Why, before this, he had often assisted Dumbledore with some little problem the students had perpetrated. It hardly took a seer to find the guilty party … only the little gray cells of the brain, properly applied.
Snape checked his timetable again. One more southbound train, then he should be in Muggle London. He was tired of primitive travel. The trains of the past were dirty, smelly things that belched coal dust over passengers and landscape alike. He’d so much prefer Apparating … or even a broomstick by night. However, Dumbledore trusted him to operate within the past without altering either their own history or that of the Muggles. And that meant doing nothing that might make the Muggles suspicious.
He joined the queue on the railway platform, brushing hopelessly at the dust coating his Muggle clothing. One more train, then he could finally take a bath! He still found the unfamiliar trousers, waistcoat, shirt, and jacket chafing after the comfort of his robes. At least this era required suitably sombre garb -- he could easily have found himself in the Muggle Hippie era, where men and women cavorted about in horrid combinations of bright colours, instead of this Victorian era of black and grey.
A loud whistle sounded up the track, and the Muggles crowded towards the edge of the platform. Snape moved along with them, trying to maintain a discrete distance between their unwashed bodies and his own. After nearly two days in this era, he could feel his temper fraying. How could anyone, even Muggles, allow themselves to reach such a state? It wasn’t just the dirt -- obviously the machinery of the past was not capable of operating without producing soot and ash -- it was more the fact that the Muggles seemed to have no pride at all in either their physical appearance or that of their city. Great Merlin’s Beard, did none of them possess a sense of smell? He took two steps back from a particularly odious specimen.
The train roared into the station, steam and soot billowing out in great clouds that engulfed the waiting crowd like the breath of a dragon. Snape coughed, and tried vainly to shield his nose and mouth with the lapel of his coat. He could feel the ash settling onto his hair and skin. One more train, he told himself, just one more train.
Once settled into an empty compartment, Snape sighed heavily, shrugged out of his heavy coat, and opened the Muggle newspaper he’d purchased. That should last him until they left the station. He could only hope he’d bought enough magazines to see him through the rest of the trip. Muggle print was so dull. Why, the pictures just … sat there! And the things Muggles found interesting …!
Just as the train jerked into movement, the door to the compartment slid open and a slender man ducked inside. Snape sighed softly. Wonderful! Muggle companionship for the long ride ahead. Snape could only hope the man would not want to chat. He was slightly cheered to see the other pull out a newspaper of his own and begin reading with only a momentary glance in Snape’s direction. Perhaps here was a kindred spirit, or as much of one as he could expect to find in a Muggle.
Snape read through the paper, noting without much interest that there had been several unsolved robberies, even more fires, and that the Queen was due to appear at some function or other this coming weekend. He considered Muggle affairs unimportant in his own time; those of the far past were hardly worth the effort of reading about them. He’d hoped for a scientific article or two -- the “science” of the Victorian Era was always good for a laugh.
With a sniff of disgust, he refolded the newspaper. He nearly tossed the thing onto the floor of the compartment, only belatedly remembering his companion. A glance across the aisle showed that gentleman watching Snape with curiosity. Snape returned his look for a moment. The other could hardly be called handsome, but Snape found the sharp features interesting. The pale, thin face seemed unusually alert, and thick dark eyebrows canted over intelligent grey eyes. Snape noted the deep smirk lines accenting the wide mouth, and dared to imagine that the other might hold his own in the sort of conversation Snape found most stimulating. He dropped his gaze as the other leaned forward.
“I’ve The Evening Standard,” the man said, holding out his own newspaper. “I shall be happy to trade.”
Snape considered for a moment, then raised an eyebrow and nodded shortly. He passed his newspaper across and took the other in exchange. The two flipped their papers open nearly simultaneously, and for a few minutes the only sounds inside the compartment were the clackety-clack of wheels on rails.
Those few minutes were all it took for Snape to realize that the second newspaper differed only slightly from the first, and that neither contained anything of interest to him. With a sigh, he dropped the paper onto the seat beside him, folded his arms across his chest, and stared glumly out the window. The dingy grey landscape crept past, one grimy building replacing another just like it.
The rustle of the other man’s newspaper attracted Snape’s attention momentarily. It seemed that he, too, had finished reading what passed for news in this era, for he set his folded newspaper beside him, and glanced keenly across the compartment. Snape thought about meeting that gaze once more, but hesitated. What sort of unspoken messages might he be passing, all unknowing, to this Muggle from the past?
“You dabble in chemistry, I see,” the man remarked, raising one thick, dark eyebrow.
Snape raised one of his own in reply. “I beg your …” he began, then remembered that ‘chemistry’ was the term Muggles used for their attempts at potion-making. He glanced down, at his stained fingers.
“Ah … yes, you could say that I … dabble,” he replied, “as do you, evidently.” The long fingers now fishing a pipe from the other’s jacket were nearly as stained as Snape’s own.
The other man sniffed. He filled his pipe, then held out the tobacco pouch toward Snape.
“Thank you, but I fear I have lost my pipe,” Snape said in reply. This much was true; he’d lost the pipe after tossing it into the lake following his one experiment in smoking while he’d been a student at Hogwarts.
“How fortunate!” the other man exclaimed. “A friend of mine recently bought me a new one, in case, he said, mine should meet with mischance.”
He held out a pipe which had obviously never been used. Snape’s eyebrows rose with surprise. Were all Muggles this … open? Surely it would harm nothing for him to accept. He made a wry face, remembering the acrid smoke he‘d inhaled as a student. Then, he shrugged. Anything would be better than the harsh soot now assailing his nostrils.
“I agree,” the other man said as he passed the tobacco, “the pipe, at least, has some aromatic qualities, unlike the coal.”
Snape huffed in reply. Easy enough to see what thoughts passed through his mind when he’d made no effort to disguise his body language. He busied himself trying to light the pipe with the Muggle device proffered. He’d watched the other furtively to see how the thing was used, but striking the bulbous end in such a way as to produce flame was tricky. He wasted three of the “sulphurs” before he succeeded in lighting the tobacco. He drew in a breath and tried not to cough.
The other man leaned back in his seat, crossed his legs at the ankle, and puffed on his pipe. Snape could not help but watch the lithe body with appreciation, though he tried not to glance across the compartment more than could be explained by ordinary curiosity. He was happy to find that his companion was a man of few words, just as he was relieved to find that he’d not forgotten how to smoke. And this time, his lungs seemed happier with the tobacco smoke when faced with the stinging alternative blowing from the locomotive engine.
The door to their compartment suddenly flew open, revealing the portly figure of a Muggle carrying several packages. Snape’s brows drew together. Bad enough he’d had to share his space with one Muggle; now this fellow seemed intent upon joining them. To his surprise, his original companion straightened to face the newcomer.
“I should think it obvious,” the man stated in an icy voice, “that this compartment is occupied. There is no more room. Take yourself and your baggage elsewhere.”
“Well, I never!” The large Muggle huffed through his moustaches, but faced with not one, but two steely glares, he backed away in search of friendlier seating.
Snape glanced at his traveling companion. He was surprised to see a faint blush upon the other’s sharp cheekbones.
“I must apologise for my temper,” the man murmured, bending his head in a pretence of tamping his pipe. “I am afraid I am a bit of a hermit, and often lack many of the social niceties that …”
“As to that,” Snape interrupted, “had you not run the fellow off, then surely I would have done so. I, also, prefer solitude to dull and wearying attempts at conversation by …”
“… by ignorant Muggles?”
Snape stared in shock. The other man gave him a brief smile, then raised his pipe in salute. “I see I was not mistaken,” he said with some satisfaction. “I thought that particular bulge beneath your jacket seemed the size and shape of a wand, and when you had so much difficulty with the sulphurs …”
“You know of the wizarding world,” Snape remarked with some surprise.
“I have a sister who developed wizarding abilities,” the other replied. “While the rest of the family remain … ,“ here he raised a mocking eyebrow, “Muggles, my older brother and I learned about the wizarding world as children. The three of us were quite close then. We have drifted apart somewhat, but we do keep in touch.”
Snape could only stare at the astonishing man across from him. He raised one hand to touch the shape of his wand, which he could barely feel beneath the layers of cloth. The other drew deeply upon his pipe, lighting his hawk-like nose from beneath. The two men sat silently for some moments. Snape’s interest, and his appreciation, of the other grew even greater. To meet another with such wit, such powers of observation -- especially a Muggle, especially here in the past! It drew him as flame drew the moth.
At last, Snape nodded. “You have the advantage of me,” he admitted. “I’m afraid I know little of Muggle society, or I might be less obvious.”
The other man snorted. “I doubt that the average … Muggle … would notice more than the colour of your hair and the fact that you are male,” he replied. “I find most people to be surprisingly oblivious to their surroundings.”
“I had noticed somewhat the same myself,” Snape said, permitting himself a slight smile. He indicated the stack of magazines he’d brought from the last town. “Would you care for some slightly different reading material … or shall we exchange ideas instead?”
A smile crossed the other’s thin lips. “What, attempts at conversation with a Muggle?” he murmured. “Indeed, you must have tired of travel.”
Snape felt unaccustomed heat flare along his cheekbones. “That was not the term with which I would have ended my sentence,” he protested, “and you do seem more aware of your surroundings than most.”
The man leaned back once more, arranged himself comfortably, and pulled at his pipe. “I’d wager,” he said, “that I am more aware than any Muggle or wizard you’ve ever come across.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Come, let us occupy ourselves until the bloody train delivers us to our destination.”
Snape considered the offer, then nodded. This, the meeting of two like minds, was as food to him, and he had been hungry for too long. He, too, stretched out into a more (or less) comfortable position and puffed away at his pipe. “Aside from the … chemistry, then,” he murmured, scanning the figure across the aisle more closely, “I see that you have recently been to the western counties.”
“Obviously. The mud stains on my trousers are unmistakable. You have come from … Scotland, I do believe.”
Snape lifted his pipe in salute. “I can assure you,” he added, “I would rather have traveled by wizarding methods than Muggle.”
“Indeed. I enjoy the times when I’m allowed to use the floo powder.” The other man chuckled at some memory, then turned his gaze back to Snape. “You spend quite some time writing, I see.”
Snape didn’t need to look to see the calluses along his fingertips. “And you play the violin, I believe,” was his response.
“Tsk. That was a guess; my instrument could just as easily be the viola.”
Snape shrugged. “I am not quite as familiar with the Muggle world as you are with mine,” he retorted, “but it seems to me that the instruments are nearly identical.”
“Touché. I must allow for the difference in our cultures. Very well, I grant you the violin.”
He looked sharply at Snape, his grey eyes fairly sparkling with mischief. His thin lips stretched in a challenging smirk. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the train gave a huge lurch which tossed both men towards the window. As they slid along the benches, each reached instinctively for anything with which to brace themselves. Almost simultaneously, each realised that they’d grabbed the other’s arm.
Releasing each other quickly, both men turned to gather up the newspapers, magazines, and coats which had fallen to the floor. Snape set aside his pipe and cast about for something -- anything! -- to change the topic. He was unable to think of anything other than the feel of wiry muscles moving beneath his hand. The slender body was deceptively strong.
The other man handed Snape his newspaper. His pipe was clenched between his teeth. “Ah … Slytherin House?” he asked.
Snape froze, one arm still fishing underneath the bench for a magazine. He glanced down hurriedly. He had not accidentally worn his House tie pin, nor did he have on any green at all. He straightened, and found himself pinned next to the window by the other man. Snape could smell the acrid tang of recent sweat, but was oddly pleased to note that the man smelled mostly of sandalwood and tobacco.
“Er …” he murmured. His body suddenly let him know that it was all-too-aware of this amazing stranger. A slow tingle began in his groin. The uncomfortable Muggle trousers quickly became far more uncomfortable. He wanted to tug at the waistband. He wanted to unbutton the front. He wanted his robes back!
“Am I … correct?” the other said softly. He made no effort to move away from the window. Snape was unsure of Muggle protocol. Should he return to his seat? Make some sort of remark? Act as if nothing unusual was happening? If this man had spotted a wand beneath three layers of cloth, surely Snape’s current physical reaction was as obvious as a torch in a dark hallway. He compromised by remaining in place, but staring out the window.
“I … yes, Slytherin is correct,” he muttered. “What have I done to make that fact obvious to you?”
A wide grin showed a flash of tobacco-stained teeth. “I did mention that I have done some small research on the wizarding world,” the man replied. “You have come from Scotland, which is the location of Hogwarts, the school my sister attended. Knowing that, it was fairly simple for me to determine your house.”
Snape could think of nothing intelligent to say. He tried to surreptitiously move his magazine in front of his groin. He had the distinct feeling that he was as transparent as glass to the other man.
The other smiled, and handed Snape the magazine he’d retrieved from the corner of the compartment. He set his pipe on the bench behind him. “My research indicated that Hufflepuffs are fanatically loyal. In spite of the fact that we have just met, you do not seem the fanatic sort. Gryffindors are renowned for their chivalry. Again, I could be mistaken, but you do not much resemble a knight errant either.“
Snape gave a sarcastic smirk, and the other continued. “I did think you might be a Ravenclaw because of your studious nature, but eventually decided that your intellect and personality would make you Slytherin.”
“Ah … I can find no fault with your reasoning ….”
“I believe I can make a further deduction,” the other murmured, moving even closer. His gaze flickered downwards, where Snape pathetically clutched his magazines.
“That,” Snape managed to retort with something of his usual sarcasm, “is hardly a difficult deduction. The question is, what is Muggle protocol for such things?”
“It depends,” the man said softly, his hands reaching out to pull the magazines from Snape’s grasp. He glanced into Snape’s eyes. “How does the wizarding world feel about ‘the love that dare not speak its name’?”
“Hmmm … if I understand the allusion, in the wizarding world we are fairly open about it, though there are still many who feel that the only true sexual bond is between man and woman. You do realise … “
“That one’s physical reaction to a situation hardly indicates one’s normal sexual preference? Of course. However, the two of us have been trading inquiring glances for the better part of an hour ….” The other raised an eyebrow.
Snape sighed. “I had rather hoped you thought it was merely normal curiosity,” he admitted. “I told myself that was the reason for your … ah … interest.”
“Would you rather I return to my seat then?” the other murmured. A small line furrowed the skin between his brows. “We can resume our conversation as though this interruption never happened.”
Snape hesitated. “You have not yet told me your feelings on the matter,” he said.
This time the man’s grin stretched across his face. “Not only am I known in the Muggle world for my deductive skills,” he retorted, tossing the magazines aside, “I am also well-known as a woman-hater!”
Snape felt a smile tug at his own lips. “In that case, perhaps we should continue our most interesting discussion … in slightly different fashion.”
He leaned forward, watching the other man’s eyes intently for any sign of hesitation. The other met him halfway, his lips already parted. Their mouths came together as though each were starving for the flesh of the other. Snape felt their teeth grate together, and his groin thrust forward involuntarily, grinding against the bony hip of the other man. One of them moaned; Snape had no idea which one it was.
He slid one hand behind the other’s neck, clenching his fingers in the fine, dark hair. His blood thrummed in his head so loudly that he could barely hear the rumble of the train. He was halfway convinced that someone had cast a heat spell on the compartment. Sweat pooled at the base of his spine and dripped down his chest. The train jerked beneath them, rhythmically rocking, as if they were already joined, already making love.
Their bodies strained against each other, their hands grasped and tugged. Sweet pleasure, touching another like this, yet also Snape was quite aware that they were two male animals who had not yet determined which was to be the dominant partner. As they held one another close, each also tested their strength against the other; as they licked and sucked, they also nipped and twisted. Their hips shoved, neither of them giving one way or the other. This was not the delicate romance of man meeting woman -- this was need, raw and violent.
They broke, both gasping for air, yet each mouth quickly dove for whatever skin was exposed on the other. Their hands unbuttoned shirt fronts and then darted beneath, skimming across sweat-slick chest muscles, pinching crinkled nipples. Snape burrowed his face beneath the other‘s chin, pushing his head back against the window. He tasted salt and soot. He smelled the sharp sting of both their desires.
He slid one arm around the other’s waist, beneath the shirt, and pulled him even closer. His hand dropped to the taut buttock, and he dug his fingers into the hard muscle. The other man moaned softly, wrapping both his arms around Snape’s waist.
“We should … lock door,” the man grunted, his voice thick with desire.
Giving a growl at the interruption, Snape fumbled through his jacket until he located his wand. He flung a veritable barrage of spells at the bloody doorway, dropped the wand onto his crumpled coat, and dove back to fasten his teeth into the corded neck of the other man.
“Ah … was … did … wha?” the other muttered. His head was back, baring his throat to Snape’s teeth. He put one foot onto the bench beside them, spreading his legs for Snape’s fingers.
Snape pulled back just far enough to speak intelligibly. “Locked door … silence spell … nobody will bother us.”
“Yes … I want … want you in my mouth!”
“I also,” Snape grunted. The Muggle trousers were now so uncomfortable he feared that he might have to be cut out of them. “Who will be first?”
The other lowered his head, his sparkling eyes only inches from Snape’s own. He grinned like a Weasley with a Dung-bomb. “There is a certain position ….” he murmured.
Snape’s eyebrows rose. “I have wanted to try that,” he said.
“I believe you will enjoy it. Let me position myself.”
The other quickly slid onto his back on the bench, careful to avoid his smouldering pipe on the end. One leg dangled off the side of the bench, the large foot resting on the floor. The other leg, bent at the knee, braced against the rocking wall of the compartment. Snape paused for a moment to appreciate the sight as the other grinned up at him. The wide mouth was almost directly beneath Snape’s groin, and he needed little urging to unbutton his trousers. The other man’s fingers were already opening his own clothing -- not just the trousers, but the shirt as well, flinging the cloth aside to bare a long pale swath of skin that had Snape’s mouth watering and his hands fumbling.
He managed to free his aching cock at last. The other lunged upwards to capture the member with his mouth. Snape gasped, and his knees nearly gave way with the shock of that hot mouth covering his aroused cock. The other smiled around his mouthful. He helped Snape to position himself: one knee on the bench, on the other side of the man’s head, one foot on the floor, one hand braced against the wall and the other flat on the bench to take his weight.
Snape leaned forward until the gently bobbing cock of the other man was within reach of his mouth. He paused for another moment, inhaling deep gulps of the potent musk rising from the glistening head. The cock resembled its owner: long and thin, pale except for the purple head. He lowered his head to nuzzle the tight, dark curls at the base of the organ. The acrid scent brought a heart-felt groan from his chest.
The other spread his legs slightly, raising his hips to brush his groin against Snape’s nose and mouth. His own mouth continued to pleasure Snape’s cock, licking and sucking until Snape’s hips trembled and shoved in unconscious rhythm with his moves. Snape closed his lips over the other’s cock. He couldn’t get as much of it into his mouth as the other man was doing to his, but he gave it his best schoolboy try. He attempted to match his movements to what was going on at his other end, lowering his head as the other man pulled back, and pulling back as his cock was swallowed nearly to the hilt.
For quite some time, there was no noise in the compartment save the clacking of the rails and the soft sounds of appreciation made by two men truly enjoying one another’s cocks . It seemed only moments until Snape felt the buzzing rush of his climax, only moments later that his mouth filled with warm, peppery seed that he savoured before swallowing. They kissed and licked one another clean, though he could easily have reached for his wand and a cleaning spell.
At last, Snape’s trembling legs refused to hold him any longer, and, moving like a palsied old man, he gingerly shifted around to sit next to the other’s head. He nearly sat upon the pipe. He didn’t think he would have cared if he had. The other man sat up, his muscles as ill-coordinated as Snape’s.
“How rare, and how unexpected,” he murmured, giving Snape a wide grin.
Snape smiled in return, and leaned closer. “You’ve a bit of my seed on your cheek,” he said, licking his own juice from the man’s skin. They kissed more slowly than before, languid, savouring each other’s flavour.
Snape’s hand roamed over the other’s bare chest. He felt strong fingers tugging at his hair and wished he’d had a chance to wash it. He pulled back long enough to glance into the other’s eyes.
“I was traveling to London to give a message to a certain Muggle genius,” he remarked. “I suspect I will not need to go that far to find Sherlock Holmes.”
The other reached behind Snape and placed his pipe back between his teeth. He puffed for a moment without speaking, his grey eyes studying Snape’s features.
“But you will,” he replied in a soft voice, “need to continue into the city if you wish to spend the evening in Holmes’ bedroom, which I most certainly wish you to do.”
Snape smiled and bent to nuzzle the neck of the astonishing man. He only sighed fondly at the next statement.
“We can discuss what your headmaster wishes of me once we’ve dined.”