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They had been admonished to do up their hair nicely, Lily sulking all the while, and then gone out with her parents and all the neighbours trundled out wrapped up against the cold and went up and down the streets carolling under the cautious eye of Mrs Wallis. Under her leadership, they had even gone out and added two songs to their very tried-and-tested repertoire this year and Petunia could sense the group's elation at their achievement. They went to neighbours everyone liked, but also did the charitable thing and called on the old biddies who didn’t get out anymore, like Ms Taylor, Mrs Jenks, and the down-on-their-luck places, like the Smiths, or the Connors (with Mr Connor not long for this world if his drinking continued like that) and finally, the Snapes.
“Oh, bring us some figgy pudding
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding
Oh, bring us some figgy pudding
And bring it right here.”
As always, Mr Snape appeared in the doorway, toasting them with his beer and cheering them on and even dragging his sullen teenage son (he had grown!) out behind him. Petunia’s heart skipped.
“Good tidings we bring to you and your kin
We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year!”
Heart beating faster, Petunia made sure to lock eyes with the lanky teen as they invariably warbled along into the next stanza. She also made sure to drop her gaze meaningfully lower and lower while singing.
“We won't go until we get some
We won't go until we get some
We won't go until we get some
So bring it right here!”
She was gratified to see his cheeks take on a slightly less pale hue and look away.
Petunia had decided what she wanted for Christmas a while ago.
She was old enough, and she’d had enough of the gentle teasing of two of her classmates who had come back from half-term break with an air of arrogant self-assurance, but also an annoying gain in maturity. Now it was Petunia’s turn to– go all the way. Impatiently, she trilled her way through the song to the end (he was looking back at her!). Tried not to let the feeble cheer by Snape distract her, and gave Severus a meaningful look as she lingered. He vanished from sight, pretending not to see her.
Predictably, Snape got his coat and followed the carollers to the pub, other neighbours trailing home, as well as Lily and mother. Petunia pretended to join the pub-goers, especially Steven from her year, but then doubled back when she knew she was unobserved since Steven was too gormless to realise that she'd pretended to wait for him specifically.
Thus, the group vanishing around the corner and her heart in her throat, Petunia went round back and knocked.
It took a while, but then Severus opened and stepped out into the dilapidated backyard.
“Private encore?” he sneered.
Petunia ignored his sneer, her blood rushing in her temple. She took a step closer, and he first took a step back, but then stood his ground, a puzzled expression on his gaunt face.
Up close, he was not handsome, and he was still all angles, his skin spotty and unclean, but not as bad as those of other boys in her year.
The good thing about him was, too, that first of all, Lily considered him hers, that if anything happened, he would not be able to spread rumours that anyone would believe, and there was something about him that was strangely soft around the edges, and non-threatening. Also, who’d believe him if he told any tall tales?
They now stood out back in the cold, the clouds of their breaths mingling, and looked at each other. Finally, Petunia reached out, tentatively, and touched two fingertips along the line of his jaw. When her skin touched his, she could feel the almost electric thrum of magic, which sent a jolt all the way through her body right to her groin, where enough warmth pooled to make her sharply take in a breath.
His eyes were very black and huge, and softened when he understood her intentions. He even moved a little closer. Feeling almost pulled by forces beyond her control, Petunia leant upwards and touched her lips to his. They were surprisingly warm, and the speed with which they opened at her gentle probing was dizzying.
He tasted of what she recognised as beer and thought were cigarettes, and she was surprised at the fact that she was not disgusted, but that it somehow added to the appeal. He gave an odd little sound that sounded almost desperate as both his hands came up around her. They were not as clammy as she’d anticipated, but warm, and strangely reverent. They would not move on their own, she realised with annoyance.
When she felt as though she wanted to sink into him with every more kiss, she pulled away and dragged him back with her inside the house. The place was a tip, but she ignored it, walking right past the mess, and pulled him into his bedroom. He did not resist but had a puzzled expression all the while.
She pointedly did not look around but pushed him onto the (unmade! Very musky!) bed and, gathering all her courage, straddled him, this time tugging at his sweater, enjoying the way it ruffled up his long hair when she dragged it over his head. His skin gleamed in the moonlight, and she ran her hands possessively over it, the same current running through her fingertips.
“Magic,” she breathed.
He nodded, his eyes strangely hungry, and fixating an area closer to her collarbone than her eyes. She pulled her own sweater over her head, drunk on her own courage, and stared at him challengingly.
Now Severus was staring at her chest, lips slightly parted, and though she dimly realised that this was a very unappealing expression (gormless and vacant!), the awe he showed filled her with a fierce pride that made her take off her brassiere, too, and all but bare herself to him with a flourish.
He stared and she could feel something (him!) hardening against her thigh. She almost reached down -she had always wanted to know what one felt like. Still, she was too preoccupied to follow her curiosity. Everything was her heartbeat, and every part of his skin touching hers was- magic. Petunia vaguely wondered if it was really magic or if she was imagining it, but did it matter?
It did not matter.
This was hers and hers alone, and they needed to hurry, before anyone came back or people found out that she was missing, or before whatever this was that was pulling her along wore off.
Petunia kissed Severus and felt little uncontrollable jerky motions building in her hips as her body became heavier, everything drawn by a gravity of its own. A strange magic, she decided and was shocked when she heard Severus groan, which seemed to send a strange fever through her body and made her feel as though she was melting.
She became ever more aware of the hardness against her inner thigh and ineffectively tugged at his trousers to get the point across. She was also very curious - surely, people at school had been exaggerating about lengths and girths?
His rapid breathing and sudden erratic motions for her to stop did warn her to get up and get off him to give him some space. Looking down at him, she could feel her heartbeat hammering in every part of her body, and found herself breathing hard, too.
“Lumos”, she heard him say and then a white light almost blinded her. Reflexively, she crossed her arms over her bare chest tightly. She saw his hand fumble around in a bag on the floor, finding whatever it was, and withdrawing – Petunia realised it was a condom. The room was suddenly cast in darkness again and bright spots danced in front of her eyes as she cautiously undressed fully. Then, she lay down on the bed alongside Severus's angular body and ran a finger up his arm, then his wand, and felt the same strange thrum that she felt when she was touching his skin. He was breathing heavily all the while, his breath warm against her cheek.
It was electrifying. This was magic, and she could feel it. Petunia breathlessly wondered if she would be able to feel this sensation when he was inside her, too, or if the condom would prevent that. The thought alone drew her forward and she impatiently took his hand off his- him, where he was still clumsily pulling on the condom, and straddled him again. Both of them held their breaths as Petunia reached for his- member and guided him inside herself extremely gingerly. He felt a lot warmer than she had thought, and also she had not anticipated the heartbeat on which the strange current of his magic jumped with every beat.
She had anticipated pain, like the other girls had described, stretching, or even tearing, but instead, there was first only a vague sense of discomfort, then a feeling of a dull fullness, and, as she moved, and her body adjusted around him, an overwhelming sense of that same current returning, filling her with fire at every one of his heartbeats. Her breasts seemed heavier and when she touched a nipple carefully felt suddenly overwhelmed, pulsing with the same strange energy as the rest of her body. She heard a moan and realised with shock that it was hers.
Petunia was so thrilled at this discovery within herself that she felt her hips jut forward on their own and Severus give a gasp. She realised that his black eyes were staring up at her in amazement, almost invisible in the gloom, his hands still too worshipful to touch her properly. She reached down and ran her finger down the length of his wand again, which he was still holding loosely, and which made her finger thrum and her insides melt.
Her heartbeat, which had taken up residence in her groin and places she could not name, picked up and became a desperate drumbeat, frenzied, and tidal. She leant forward and felt herself rub up against his stomach more, each point of contact on fire, all the while feeling the background hum of his very own electricity on her and in her.
It was magic, and it was hers.
Suddenly, the pressure was too great, the sensation too overwhelming. She threw her head back and strangled a cry that threatened to escape her, her motions becoming erratic and then stopping as the magic tipped her over the edge and she could only clutch at Severus for dear life while spasms of pleasure tore through her body.
Somewhere on the edge of consciousness she realised that Severus’s own hips had started jerking spasmodically and she could now no longer feel him thrusting up against her, but only an odd rhythmic movement within her. She opened her eyes again and saw that he had squeezed his tight, a strange look almost of pain on his features, his lips drawn back to show grit teeth.
Petunia found herself kissing him ferociously before she knew entirely what she was doing, still clinging on for dear life, his magic coursing over and through her. It was clearly a spell he had put on her, she mused, still feeling the heartbeat course through her groin and an almost overwhelming sensation of her nipples crushed against his chest painfully. Must be. She had never felt like this before in her life. When her heartbeat had calmed a bit and their kiss had slowed, she felt herself regain control over herself and even the strange electrifying feeling eased off a little.
When her body had started behaving itself again, she gingerly got up, making a face at the absolutely disgusting sensation of his flaccid member flopping out of her body. She knew she could not look at Severus at all, but suddenly also did not know where else to look, so she closed her eyes and turned, hoping that nothing was going to- banish the thought- ooze. She also did not want to know what would happen to the condom, or if this musky scent on her would remain with her for long. It started being rather unappealing and she could not remember why she'd felt so drawn to it.
Thus, she hastily stepped into her garments and dressed as fast as she could, her face beet read, glad that the growing darkness would obscure her body and her mounting discomfort. Petunia was putting her hair back into a ponytail as she finally mustered up enough courage to turn and look at him. Severus, sitting on his bed with his arms around his knees, appeared strangely lost in his own room.
It was incongruous, for inside her, everything was still humming with this dark, illicit energy that made her feel almost drunk, had seemed so overwhelming, and had been created by the both of them doing- well. Suddenly the air was too close, her clothes too tight, the fire in her stomach almost anger, almost overwhelming, and everything was too wrong. Petunia felt that she had to run away, from this boy, this room, this feeling.
And yet, she stood looking and did not move. Severus's eyebrow twitched briefly.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, slightly out of breath, his tone cold and sardonic (the way they usually spoke to each other, really).
Petunia felt as though she'd been slapped, or hit in the face with icy water. She glared, standing over him, ignoring the pulse in parts she’d rather not think about right now.
“This never happened,” Petunia snapped.
The brief pain in his eyes satisfied her deeply. She turned on her heel and stalked down the stairs.