bethbethbeth: (HP Beholder (femmequixotic))
[personal profile] bethbethbeth posting in [community profile] hp_beholder
Recipient: synn
Author: [personal profile] psyfic
Title: Rebuilding
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Hagrid/Aberforth, Snape/Hooch (Hagerforth & Snooch? Doesn't that sound like a Wizarding Law Firm?)
Word Count: ~10,300
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *Size queens, rather a lot of spunk, frottage, wall sex, first time. There is no bestiality but it is alluded to in re: the expected canon character.*
Summary: Two couples are brought together during the time of Hogwarts' rebuilding...
Author's Notes: You wrote: 'I like the idea of Snape/anybody, and Harry/Hagrid is a favorite.' Well, Hagrid already had a partner for the story, but I decided to include his and Harry's friendship here. I took your Snape/anybody at face value and hope you enjoy that pairing. You also wrote: 'I like details about little everyday magic more than large rituals, I love Hogwarts itself as a location: the history imbued in it, the thought of rebuilding after the war, etc.' So I used a bit of all that and I hope it suits. Happy Beholding!

'Hey, Hagrid!'

Rubeus Hagrid paused briefly as he approached his cabin, before smiling at his young friend a bit uncertainly.

'Hey, there, yourself, Harry. Thought you said you'd be here at nine? It's not even eight yet.'

Harry smiled back, and then made a face. 'Xenophilius woke us all with the smell of his latest breakfast creation.'

Hagrid knew Harry was currently sharing Grimmauld Place with Andromeda Tonks and his godson, baby Teddy. Andromeda was glad of a place to stay for a while that did not remind her of her slain husband and dead daughter and son-in-law. Harry was glad of a chance to get to know his young godson. He suspected the knowledge acquired would also be helpful in getting a glimpse of what being a father one day would be like.

That would have been enough, but he had heard that Xenophilius Lovegood was camped out on the rubble of what remained of his property, waiting for when the builders got around to him off the long list of people needing assistance from the Ministry to help repair or replace their homes.

From what Hagrid heard, Xenophilius had ratted out Harry, Hermione and Ron when they were on the run from the ministry, but Harry was being right good to the man by offering his own home for him to stay in until the Lovegood place could be repaired. The young lass, he knew, had been a bit cool toward her father and was sleeping with a bunch of her friends in Ravenclaw Tower, which had seen no damage. He wondered now if the smart young witch felt the same way he did; unhappy with her father's treatment of Harry; and if her keeping to Hogwarts was a form of protest.

Xenophilius had taken Harry Potter's magnanimous offer of a place to stay and the use of the entire second floor as a temporary publishing press on the condition that he be allowed to fix all their meals. Harry, knowing Kreacher would be upset with anyone usurping his rightful position, suggested that breakfast would be plenty, letting the old elf content himself with lunch and supper. He sometimes wished he had not acquiesced to any meals at all; the man ate things Harry had never heard of, and in some cases, was not sure he believed. Andromeda had taken to professing she only wished for toast, coffee and an apple in the morning, plus some porridge and milk for young Teddy, which left Harry manfully forking down helpings of such breakfast fare as Goodlesplatter cakes with grundlenut sauce and stewed hornspotted lizardstools.

'What was it this time?'

Harry winced. 'Stuffed summerwing cocoons wrapped in bacon.'

'What kind o' bacon?'

'The regular kind, which I usually like with just about anything, but this...'

'What were them summerwing cocoons stuffed with? I never thought o' eating a cocoon before.'

'Pickled Pricklewillow Puffs.'

'Those are right nasty if one of the spines catches you. How could yeh eat 'em?'

'Mr Lovegood said the pickling neutralises the poisonous sap and baking makes them wilt as they cook and the bacon fat kind of melts the spiny ends. He said it was them melting that caused the smell that filled the whole house. Smelt like a burnt broom that was soaked with basilisk poo.'

'Sorry I asked.'

Harry fell into step with his friend as they got nearer the cabin. He liked dropping by Hagrid's hut before heading to the castle to help with the rebuilding.

'So, where were you? Up with lark I take it?'

Hagrid nearly stumbled and Harry could have sworn he was getting a bit pink in the face, but the man merely said, 'Oh, the Owlery. Had a letter to send off.'

Harry grinned knowingly. 'So. How is Madam Maxime?'

'Oh, go on. Aren't I allowed a private life then?'

Harry's grin widened. 'All right. But say hi to her from me.'

Hagrid's blush increased and Harry just laughed, adding, 'I'd love some tea if you've got any. Xenophilius made some that had been steeped in gnome urine. Said it was good for the digestion, which he figured we needed since hardly anybody's been eating his breakfasts.'

Hagrid grimaced. 'Say no more.'


Whilst Sprout and Grubbledy-Plank giggled, McGonagall smirked, Flitwick made a rude remark and Binns did his best to ignore his living colleagues' preoccupation with the flesh, Hooch merely arched a brow at the advert that the rest had pointed out.

8', unshaven & uncut wants to play pole in the hole tonight. Will be at HH.

She pursed her lips as rather pleasant scenarios began to play through her head. Xiomara Rolanda (aka - XiRo or 'Zero') Hooch, it was said, loved nothing better than a good long hard piece of wood between her legs... to fly her to the goal. It was said with great laughter and was an old joke from her time as a student whose records in Quidditch as both beater and seeker were still unbroken. Her exploits on the field and in the girl's changing rooms were equally legendary and it was true -- she enjoyed the company of women.

What most did not know was that she also enjoyed the occasional hard and fast broom. This advert had recalled to her how long it had been since she'd enjoyed playing 'pole in the hole' with some needy, preferably virginal bloke. They were best. Quick, grateful and usually good for a dirty weekend of solid fucking that left her content for a good long stretch and not apt to hang or moon about, hoping for commitment.

Good, long stretch is just what you need, old girl.

She made a face, knowing she was in danger of deluding herself if she didn't acknowledge the fact it had been rather lonely in her bed for longer than she cared to admit.

'What say you, Zero?'

Hooch blinked at the Headmistress and handed the paper over to a sleepy Slughorn who had just wandered into the staff lounge in his dressing gown and was fumbling with his cuppa.

'What say I in regards to what, Minnie?'

'Oh, go on. You know what we're discussing.'

'You mean how some bent bloke with a bludger bat above his bollocks is going to play pole in the hole?' She waited whilst the rest laughed and Horace choked on his tea. She added sarcastically, 'Why would I be interested?'

'Fair point,' Flitwick chortled. The two tittering witches agreed and the Headmistress sighed.

'Well, that's enough dawdling,' Minerva suddenly decided as the rest groaned. 'You have ten minutes and then I expect to see all of you at your posts before the children arrive.'

It was not term, nowhere near at the height of summer, but the children the Headmistress referred to were the older students who had taken it upon themselves to appear at the school in the days after the battle to help with the clear up and rebuilding.

The staff had not the heart to turn them away, and after a brief discussion and some rules set up for safety's sake, it was decided that it was an unprecedented learning experience and permitted all who were of age, or who were in their OWL year and had their parent or guardian's permission, to help.

There were a few parents who also helped, but mostly, like Molly Weasley and Andromeda, they were still grieving, having suffered losses of their own. Not always death, but many, in some cases, had still not heard from family members who had run rather than face the Ministry.

The staff had their own grief to deal with, both regarding family as well as students lost to them, either due to war or the prior Ministry's draconian laws.

Some had bigger problems, Hooch thought now as a tall, bespectacled figure with short salt and pepper hair and swaddled in a plain robe the colour of charcoal and too large for his thin frame limped into the room, pausing only briefly as he noted the rest of the staff present. Severus Snape had clearly not expected them and he made his way as quickly as he could to the far end of the table where he cradled the cup of tea that appeared as if he expected someone to take it away.

'Good morning, Severus dear,' Minerva called out to him cheerily. She was one of the few who did not shy from the unexpected survivor of the Battle of Hogwarts.

'Minerva,' he replied, barely audible, despite the quiet in the room. His once resonant voice was a harsh rasp and he blinked a bit myopically at her.

Mistakenly assumed dead, Snape had lain for half a day before retrieval, with mouth and eyes open. His throat and eyes had suffered severe desiccation. He had also suffered extreme blood loss and a temporary paralysis which was a side effect of the anti-venom he had been taking with his afternoon tea since supposedly re-joining Voldemort's ranks. The new demeanour he presented seemed to be related to the two afflictions which were still slowly healing; neither Poppy nor the healer Minerva had sent for had been able to tell if they would ever heal completely.

The other immediately visible effect his ordeal had upon him was the fact his long hair, horribly matted with blood and stuck fast to the floorboards where he'd lain, had been shorn in order to free him, and he had woken with short hair that now held nearly as many silver strands as black ones. Oddly, combined with his spectacles, it gave him a rather endearing appearance to Hooch.

She had harboured an interest in the lanky young man he had been and had enjoyed a teasingly sarcastic friendship with him when he first joined the staff. She had conveyed her interest a few times over the years, usually after a few too many firewhiskys at the staff's holiday party, but he had ever demurred. Severus had always been taciturn, dour and sarcastic, traits she appreciated, and she found his reserve intriguing and bemusing. Now his reserve seemed marked by what Hooch suspected were guilt and an unwillingness to be drawn out. Oddly, it made her interest grow and she wondered if giving in to the physical side of things might not help him realise he had a lot more to be grateful for than to brood about.

Opinion was mixed among the rest of the staff on whether it truly was his voice, his eyes or having so much of his private history glamourized by Rita Skeeter for the eager consumption of the wizarding public as he recovered, that had made him so reticent and retiring. Whatever it was, Hooch now decided her next project, aside from the on-going school repairs, was going to be helping Snape and, only coincidentally, herself, also.


In any given week, Aberforth saw a lot. It was the reason he was never interested in taking a long vacation anywhere. Why should he spend galleons on travel when a representative section of the wizarding world came to him, to his bar, and told him the state of the world without his needing to enquire?

The same people that went to Old Rosie's--yes, Ab knew a thing or three about the Rosie widow--might not frequent his establishment, but he heard about them nonetheless. Didn't they seek out the unsavoury, the precarious, and the downright risky from time to time?

Didn't Harry Potter himself step foot into the Hog's Head his 5th year and didn't Voldemort ~nee Tom Riddle write 'Muggles suck!' in his men's room wall in his third year at Hogwarts? Yes, everyone who was anyone in the wizarding world had stepped slightly off the beaten path to his establishment.

The last four pages of The Hogsmeade Haggler were practically dedicated to the Hog's Head. Any newfound vice, any treacherous virtue, could be found or assuaged in the Hog's Head, or so read the advertisements. Aberforth never corrected any assumptions. He knew where to procure most things from illicit potions to Muggle devices of debauchery. He knew which witches or wizards were willing. He listened well, said little, and kept his own counsel. Due to this, the Hog's Head had quite the reputation and the advertisements only made it grow.

Aberforth ignored them all, save one. When it appeared, it was always in the same lower left hand corner of the last page, as paid for, and it was directed solely at him.

8', unshaven & uncut wants to play pole in the hole tonight. Will be at HH.

Aberforth whistled as he wiped down the bar top with a none-too-clean rag. His goats were marvellous companions, but some things a man just needed and couldn't get from a four-footed creature.


Hooch waited until the rest filed out before sidling over to Snape's side. Still recovering and not able to walk very far without tiring, Pomfrey had not given her permission for him to do anything until he was fully fit, at which point Slughorn had already requested his assistance with restocking the potions for the Infirmary... once the Potion's storeroom was inventoried and destroyed ingredients had been procured.

'Was there something you required?'

She smiled sympathetically. 'Your voice sounds painful. Does it hurt to talk?'

Snape sighed. 'Not much. Poppy gave me pastilles that help. They also keep me from coughing and tearing the tissue.'

'Well, that's something.' She perched on the table by his tea. 'Listen. I've seen nothing but rubble and the inside of my quarters since the rebuilding began and I know you've been stuck here, as well. Care for a nightcap tonight? My treat. I'd appreciate the company.'

He stared at her for a long moment, and then carefully cleared his throat before wincing and pulling out a small lozenge wrapped in wax paper which he made vanish after popping the pastille in his mouth.

'I'm not good company lately, Zee,' he admitted, using the nickname only few were permitted.

'So who is? A different person to look at as I sip my firewhisky's all I'm asking for, Ess,' she countered, smiling so the skin about her eyes crinkled, giving her a roguish look. 'Go on. Wouldn't you like to see something besides dusty old stacks and those depictions of curse victims in the DADA office?'

'I'm not allowed spirits,' he responded dourly. 'Might damage the healing, Poppy says.'

'Oh, poo. Well, fine, you can drink tea then. I've got some wonderful gingerbread my aunt owled me. I'm willing to share.' She took on a wheedling tone as he considered this. 'Truly, Ess, you'd be doing us both a favour. You need to get out more. You may not be down in that drafty old dungeon anymore, but the DADA room's not much better. Do you good. Do us both good.'

He eyed her, thinking over her proposition, then finally shrugging and wincing as the action pulled the tender pink new scar over his throat.

'Fine. Make it Darjeeling and you have yourself a deal.'

She smiled. 'Terrific! Just give me an extra 15 minutes from the start of dinner to bathe the days dust off and I'll be expecting you at my door at a quarter to seven.'


It was the luck of the day's draw that Harry should work beside Hagrid in helping clear the rubble from near the Greenhouses all day, Harry using magic and Hagrid fetching Grawp who helped him lift the heavier stones and carry them to the Headmistress's crew.

Minerva and a few of her more promising NEWT-level students gifted in Transfigurations were transfiguring the jagged, cracked stone into once again pristine and even edged blocks suitable for the constructors to mortar, emplace and allow to set. The smaller pieces of rubble they turned into scale, petit appareil, lintels, ashlar, balusters, coping and corbels, dressing, finials and flagstones which would be used as the rebuilding proceeded.

As they sat for lunch at a table outdoors, both it and their chairs configured from the rubble, Harry invited Hagrid to Grimmauld for dinner.

'It'd be great having another guy at the table,' Harry enthused. 'And Kreacher makes supper, so nothing weird from Mr Lovegood.'

Hagrid seemed to have trouble with his mouthful, taking time to swallow great gulps of water from his tankard before shaking his head regretfully.

'Sorry, Harry. Got to deal with the animals and do the chores that aren't being done as we're workin' on the castle, don't I?'

His young friend looked stricken. 'I hadn't thought of that. I get to go home to a hot dinner and relax, but you still have work to do.'

'S'all right. I'm used to it,' Hagrid assured him.

'It's not right. I'll stay tonight and help you,' Harry asserted. The set of his jaw indicated he had made up his mind and nothing would change it. In fact, he called out, 'Kreacher!'

The old house elf appeared with a popping sound. 'How may I serve Mr Harry Potter?'

'I'm going to stay later tonight to help Hagrid out. Don't change dinner time, but tell the rest I'll be late and keep two plates warm for me, please. I might be bringing a guest.'

'Yes, sir. Very good, sir.' Kreacher disappeared with another popping sound.

Harry beamed, digging into his food now with renewed gusto. 'There! Now there's no excuse for me not helping and you not having dinner with us.'

Hagrid gave him a weak smile, and then nodded. 'All righ', Harry. Right good o' you, that.'

'Think nothing of it.'

Hagrid nodded, and then sighed, pushing his nearly empty plate away. 'Excuse me. I've got something to take care of before we get back to work.'


'I've always wondered what your quarters look like, I must admit.'

'I'm sure they don't differ in great detail from any other teacher's quarters.'

'Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that. You should see my broom room.'

'Broom room?'

His voice had risen at the word and the image that had accompanied it had flooded his mind of the woman he spoke to gracefully balanced atop a hovering broom... and wearing very little.

Snape cursed his wizard's libido. Muggles only suffered the indignity of intense sexual desire during the height of puberty, but wizards, thanks to living twice as long as or even longer than Muggles, suffered an extended period of what Muggles called 'the sexual peak' and he was only 24, still facing at least two more decades of heightened libido. It was the main reason so many wizards married so young, he knew, but it made life miserable for those who opted to remain unmarried.

Or celibate, his rebellious mind accused him silently.

Xiomara Rolanda, or as most called her, Zero, moved closer, a knowing smile on her face. He could feel the heat of her and cursed silently as his cock took a sudden intense interest in her presence.

Before she could open her mouth and explain the term, a house elf had woken the napping Severus with the popping sound of it Apparating.

'Tibby is sorry to be waking Professor Snape sir, but Tibby's to bring the Professor his roast beefs and vegetables Missus White Hood Pomfrey says to bring him along with good hot tea for his good health.'

Snape nodded tiredly, still reclined, and gesturing at the table before him. Tibby set the platter he carried on it. There was far more than a plate of food and a teapot upon it and he glared at the elf who merely smiled back and popped out of sight. There was the promised roast beef and a selection of carrots and marrows and mushrooms, but there was also a bowl of steaming hot rolls, a pot of butter and at least three different jars of jams.

He sighed, then sat up and cursed as the move pulled the fabric of his robe over his rather tented lap. He sighed again, shaking his head. It looked like a visit to the loo would be necessary before he could eat.

Some might think it might be worth it to suffer the indignities of a wizard's sex drive in order to enjoy an extra hundred or hundred and fifty years of life, but at that moment the beleaguered Severus nearly wished himself to Muggledom. He was sure 38 year old virginal Muggles did not suffer the indignity of needing to wank on a regular basis.



Aberforth's young assistant turned his rosy-cheeked face to his employer and looked at him expectantly.

'I've got something to do tonight. You'll have the bar after supper--'

Before he could finish his sentence, an owl flew in through the front door, open to let in some fresh and cooler air into the summer-heated room. It perched at the bar in front of Aberforth who scowled.

'You're digging holes in my bar, blasted bird.'

It protested with a loud, piercing screech that made Stacy wince and cover his ears.

The older man did not flinch and his voice was gruff. 'Fine.'

Aberforth took the parchment off the bird's leg and it immediately flew off, but not without digging its talons into the bar's surface and lifting up chunks of splintered wood.

His scowl deepened and he took the parchment and gestured to Stacy, 'Fix that.'

As the young man drew his wand and began making repairs to the bar top, Aberforth read the message. It was as succinct as the man who wrote it.

Gonna be late. Sorry.

He sighed, then drew his own wand and burnt the parchment to cinders, which he dusted off his palm to the floor before turning to the hapless Stacy who was putting his wand away and rubbing already work-calloused fingers over his handiwork.

'Like I was saying, you'll have the bar tonight. I'll be out if anyone asks and not to be disturbed unless my brother himself walks through the door and asks for a butterbeer. Understood?'


Snape made his slow way along the occasionally still rubble-strewn corridors to the other side of the castle on the same floor his current quarters were on, to Hooch's room. He still tired easily and his feet, which had suffered the worst of the blood deprivation, had nerves, bone and tissues still healing and ached so much when he walked that he limped. He ignored it, however, knowing they would heal, which was all he cared about.

In his pocket he carried a bottle of elf-made wine, a gift from Minerva to him as he recovered in the Infirmary, and which he planned to give to his host. Whilst he could not drink it, Severus Snape knew what was expected of a dinner guest.

Hooch was right, he thought. It was good to be having somewhere else to go. It would keep him from a night of brooding and avoiding the discussion of the day's labours (and reminder of his current uselessness) in the entrance hall off the Great Hall where the elves served the staff and those workers who wished to dine after a hard day's labours. The Hufflepuff table had been dragged out for use until the Great Hall was completely repaired and the flagstones, wood and wall hangings were replaced and the entire room polished. Few wanted to eat in there, he had heard, since it had been a makeshift surgery and mortuary during and after the battle.

Severus was glad to have missed all that. He only remembered the pain of Nagini's fangs, the ignominy of feeling himself fade away before the eyes of three troublemakers who had caused him no end of nuisance and concern for years and then waking to the scent of an herbal poultice which covered his eyes.

The Potter boy, no, young man, he corrected himself, had been there, somehow divining he was awake. He had told him how they had found him and to his surprise, he had apologised for assuming he was dead. He had done what was needed so far as Snape was concerned.

Potter had informed him of developments whilst he'd been unconscious and then told him the most amazing thing of all. He had thanked him for providing him the information he needed to destroy Tom Riddle and then asked if he wanted his memories back.

It was Snape's turn to astonish the boy by admitting that he had Dispelled the memories from his mind, not extracted them as was the norm, and therefore he could no longer reintegrate them back in his mind, only view them in a Pensieve. Dispelling memories, he had informed Potter, was a method used only in dire circumstances due to this.

'So you thought you were dying, too,' the far too perspicacious young man had noted.

Snape had said nothing, merely breathed deeper and slower and eventually the boy thought he was asleep and had left his side. Snape had been grateful. He truly did not wish to suffer his presence any longer than he had to. He had no desire to discuss those memories and what they contained.

He had found, though, that being freed of those memories, of the immediacy of the feelings surrounding them, he had also been freed of what he thought of as his sense of purpose. He had felt anger, anxiety, sorrow, and an unremitting sense of remorse for so long that being without them left him feeling incomplete. It also left him feeling more than vaguely ashamed, as if he had not deserved to live, and after learning who had died in the battle, the feeling only intensified.

It returned now as he stood before Hooch's door and rapped the door with the intricate knocker it bore in the shape of a sheela na gig, small wrought-iron hands seemingly slapping the iron thighs. He scarcely noted the device in his sudden, intense conviction that he had no business being here.

Before he could turn around though, the door opened and a smiling Hooch led him inside.


'Merlin, Hagrid. They act like you're trying to poison them or something. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be,' Harry admitted, trying to encourage a small mooncalf to eat at least a bit of the clover he had put down inside her shed for her. The endearing little creature nickered at him and butted his fingers with her large head, delicate dark eyes gazing at him with affection in the twilight. It would be a full moon, Hagrid had assured him, and she would come out of the shed to dance in the moonlight and hopefully attract a mate.

'Yeah, well, they'll all eat when they're hungry, Harry. No need to push it down their throats,' Hagrid remonstrated him. He could not explain that he'd already fed them that morning, otherwise he'd have to explain why and right now all he wanted was one nosy, young Chosen One to get his bespectacled self out of his hair. 'Just annoys 'em, you see.'

Harry looked unconvinced, finally sprinkling more clover into the small bowl in the mooncalf's pen and stroking her delicate ears in silent farewell. He headed back toward the cabin now, taking time to sluice his hands clean with the water pump over the watering trough, rinsing off dirt, clover and snail slime, the snails having been given to a caged fwooper. Fortunately, it had a bad case of laryngitis, per Hagrid, who was nursing it, although when the mice he had in cage near the bird began to clutch at their heads and writhe, he would know it was time to bring Sprout with some of her earmuffs to place a silencing spell upon it. Harry did not ask what would happen to the mice, eyeing the glass case holding a grumpy-looking Runespoor, each little head bearing a conical device like a funnel wrapped around their small necks which extended a few fingers beyond their range of vision.

If he hadn't been raised in a Muggle household and spent time with Arabella Figg and her many cats, he would not have realised what the devices were. Muggle veterinarians used them on cats with injuries or who had surgery to keep them from licking at sutured wounds, she had informed him. In this case, the small snake heads could not bite or otherwise fight with one another with the little devices on.

'Can I get you sssomething?' he enquired now.

One head looked up at him with interest, the other two ignored him.

'How isss it you ssspeak our tongue?'

'That'sss a long ssstory. I jussst want to know if you need anything.'

'Theesssse horrible collarsss to come off!'

'Sssorry, mate,' Harry said apologetically, smiling at the snake before turning to Hagrid, who seemed to look nervous for some reason. Then he realised what was probably the problem.

'I'm sorry, Hagrid. I was just speaking to the Runespoor. I didn't mean to make you nervous.'

Hagrid blinked, and then finally nodded. 'Oh, that. Yeah, well, I've not heard you do tha' before, though I know you could, o'course. Does sound strange, but kinda nice, too, if you know what I mean.'

Harry shook his head. 'I can't hear myself when I do that. It sounds like English to me with a lot of hissing of 's' sounds.'

'Oh, I didn't know tha'.'

Harry shrugged. 'Anyway, your snake was telling me it wants those collars taken off, but I told it I couldn't.'

'Good job. 'thout the collars, by morning two of them'd gang up and bite the head clean off one o' the others. Bloodthirsty little beasts.'

Harry nodded. 'I remember from class. Well, I guess I should be going. I want to clean up and I know you want to, too.'

Hagrid brightened.

'So we can expect you in half an hour then?' Harry asked. 'I'll wait to start eating.'

His friend shook his head. 'Nah, that's all right, Harry. You go on an' eat. I just want a bath and some sleep, Harry. Was hard work today it was. I'm knackered.'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah, I used magic and I'm a bit tired, but you and Grawp were hauling stone so I can imagine. But you should eat something.'

'Don't you worry 'bout me. I'll just have some tea and a bit o' pudding. Made some rock cookies the other day. Those would go down a treat. In fact, if you wan' some--'

'No, wouldn't think of taking any of your cookies, Hagrid, not when I've got a full larder back home,' Harry said quickly. Then he moved to hug his huge friend. 'Okay then. See you tomorrow!'

Hagrid hesitated. 'Abou' that -- I talked to the Headmistress and I'm gonna sleep in tomorrow. Need to rest, you know, after a day like this.'

'Good idea. It's not like we'll run out of work to do, is it? Enjoy your sleep in. I'll see what I get to do tomorrow.'

'S'right good o' you to help, Harry. You didn't have to.'

'Nonsense! Hogwarts is the closest thing I've ever had to a home. I have to do this, get it restored back to what it used to be,' Harry insisted.

Hagrid smiled. 'Still right good o' you.'

Harry scoffed, but smiled back as he walked out of the cabin and after the door closed behind him, Hagrid issued a huge gusty sigh and rolled his eyes. Then he reached into a cabinet and pulled out an enormous towel and an equally large flannel before heading to his washroom.


'So nice to have company for a change,' Hooch sighed with satisfaction as she pushed her empty plate back and sipped at the truly excellent wine her guest had brought with him. She eyed his still half-full plate and frowned. 'Is there something wrong with the veal? I did ask the house elves to tenderise it a bit longer for you. I know your throat is still healing.'

Snape shook his head. 'No, it's fine. It's excellent, in fact. I don't think I've ever tried it this way.'

'It's my favourite recipe. The veal is pounded, yours was pounded a bit more so, and cheese, asparagus and prosciutto are wrapped in each cutlet which is then baked covered in streaky bacon. Traditional recipes bread and fry it, but I like the baked version. Red wine and mushrooms are cooked with broth in the pan juices and drizzled over the cutlets. Divinity!'

'It's very good,' he agreed, and forked a bit more into his mouth, but it seemed to disturb him even so. Hooch sighed.

'Listen, Ess, we're old friends so don't lie to me. If your throat hurts, say so and I'll have the elves bring us some blancmange instead of the gingerbread. Be good for you. Soft and easy to swallow.'

He set his fork down and sighed, too.

'It's not my throat, Zee, and I'm sure the gingerbread is just fine.'

'Then what is it, dear?' she sat straighter, a bit concerned now.

His black eyes met her amber ones and she noted the unexpressed feeling, more openly displayed than she had ever known this man to do, and swallowed.

Without thinking, she set her wine glass down and went to him. She took his hand and led him, limping, but uncomplaining, to her sitting room, to the couch by the cosy fire and sat facing him, hand still on his arm. It was very thin, she noted.

Snape had always been on the lean side, but the last year he'd grown more so. She noted the other changes now; his once solidly black hair stippled with silver, lines of age around his eyes, the lines around his mouth grown deeper and giving it a pinched look, and the expression in his normally impassive face.

Speaking in a soft, caring voice few would credit her of being capable of, Hooch caressed his arm as she asked, 'What is it, Ess?'

'It's wrong,' he said in his own raspy whisper, voice tight with emotion. 'It's all wrong. I feel like I don't belong here. I feel like I should have died there, in that shed, and someone else given their life back. I expected to. I didn't expect to wake up. I thought I had died and I welcomed the blackness, the nothingness.'

Hooch nodded, still stroking his arm and drawing him out. 'Sounds like you, Ess.'

He swallowed rather painfully. 'I can't tell you how... disappointed I was when I woke. I wanted that nothingness, Zee.'

'Does sound peaceful,' she said wistfully. 'Although everything I've ever heard about death from those who seemed to die, including our intrepid young Chosen One, speaks of a different place, being with those we loved and who loved us, moving on to other adventures.'

His arm stiffened under hers and his head dropped down, gaze fixing on his lap and she could hear the anguish in his raspy whisper.

'That's just it. There's no one waiting for me, Zee. Nothingness is the best I can hope for. The only one I ever...' his voice trailed off and she stroked his arm comfortingly, saying nothing. Then she saw the bright, shining drops dripping onto his robe front and before she could do anything, he made a harsh sound and said, gruffly, 'Excuse me.'

He pulled his arm from her startled grasp and stood, looking pointedly away. Once standing, he made as if to move toward the exit, but after a few clearly painful limping steps, he moved before the fire and gazed into it, instead. After a long moment he sighed, clearing his throat.

'I should go. I'm piss-poor company tonight, it seems.'

She bit back a laugh, responding as of old, 'Merlin's boils, Ess! If I wanted entertaining company I'd have asked the Holyhead Harpies to dinner. No. I wanted you. You with your sweet shorn head and dear dour face and unremittingly suspicious and short-tempered company. The old sourpuss of Slytherin house. You, Severus Snape with all your faults and foibles and fancies about death. Now come back here and sit beside me or else I'll have to go over there and you won't want me to do that.'

He turned then, slightly toward her, and her expression softened as she noted the tear tracks on his face. He said nothing. She lifted a hand to him, as if asking for his help in standing up.

Severus limped to her and extended his hand and she stood, looking up and facing him. She unhesitatingly lifted both hands and, gently removing his spectacles, she wiped his cheeks with her thumbs, then carefully replaced his specs and took his hands in hers and smiled at him. He swallowed, blinking.

'You really are my friend.' This was not quite a statement, more like a belated realisation and her smile widened.

'Of course, you silly man. I don't proposition men I dislike.'

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. 'I, uh, always thought you were taking the Mickey.'

She lifted a brow in astonishment. 'Morgana's tits, Ess! What kind of witch do you take me for? When have you ever known me to do that? Verbal sparring, yes, but when I want something I'm fairly direct about it, or I thought I was. Maybe I've lost my touch.'

He shook his head. 'No. It's me. There's been something missing in me. I didn't realise it until I gave up a good deal of my memories to a boy that... a young man who is a far better man than I've ever given him credit for.'

She nodded. 'It's often like that, I hear. A man who loses his eyesight gains sharper hearing, a sharper sense of smell.'

'In my case, I think I've gained something of which I'm afraid I know nothing about,' he admitted. Then he blushed, privately delighting and touching her, but she did not remark on it.

'In that case, it's overdue, dear.' She stepped closer and then tugged on his hands, pulling him toward her and before he knew what had happened, she had taken his specs off again and was kissing him.


When Hagrid stepped into the tavern, Stacy waved at him.

'Hey, there, Hagrid! Come for your usual?'

To his surprise, the huge man turned crimson, but he merely shook his shaggy head and gestured to the stairs. 'Nah. Got a meeting. Maybe later.'

Stacy nodded, frowning, but finally shrugging. It wasn't any of his business what his customers were up to, especially good solid regular ones like Hagrid. The man easily drank a quarter of their stock in any given week.

He turned and fetched another pint for a customer that waved an empty glass at him.


Severus gasped and shuddered as he climaxed helplessly beneath her, feeling the rough fabric of his robe absorb his indiscretion, before feeling a hot burning sense of humiliation.

Hooch did not laugh, but laid her head down and sighed contentedly on his chest where she lay against him on the couch upon which they had been heatedly snogging.

'Thank you, Ess, that's such a lovely tribute.'

He blinked, uncertain if he had heard her correctly.


She lifted her head to look up into his wary gaze and frowned. 'You don't hold to Hannigan's Principle then? I thought most Purebloods did.'

'I'm a half-blood.'

'I know that, Ess, as am I, but we both grew up in Slytherin House, surrounded by Purebloods. Then again, maybe it's fallen out of use since I attended school,' she mused. 'That was quite some time ago.'

'I always wondered what possible interest someone my age could be,' he admitted. 'It was another reason I always thought you were taking the Mickey.'

'What possible interest? Goodness, Ess, you'll be raring to go again in a few moments. What's not to like when you're a randy, ready and willing witch?'

He blushed and she laughed lightly, not mockingly, and he slowly relaxed. After a moment he asked, 'So who is Hannigan and what is his principle?'

'Harriet Hannigan and it's her principle, you sexist sexy lout,' Hooch teased. 'Harriet Hannigan was the first modern day witch who noted young or inexperienced wizards tend to spunk rather quickly or at unexpected times and grew weary of hearing what I daresay were too many tales of woe or even disappointment. She took it upon herself to write a primer for young witches explaining that for a wizard to be unable to control his desire for a witch is the greatest of tributes, not a disappointment and certainly nothing to be upset about. It means nothing more than that he very badly desires her and his spunking should be considered an honour. That's Hannigan's Principle.'

He nodded after a moment, and then whispered, 'Speaking in this particular case, it has the virtue of being true.'

She smiled as he fought another blush, and then kissed him. 'Truly, Ess. I'm honoured.'

She shifted slightly as she felt his cock twitch beneath her and her smile grew.


Hagrid roared as he shuddered against the door to Aberforth's room, huge cock shooting spunk all over Aberforth's willing and upturned face.

Aberforth had accosted him as soon as he'd entered the room, pushing him against the door and spelling off his clothes. That was all the time he bothered to spend on niceties before bending to suck and nibble on the head of the gorgeous, heavy, hugely swollen prick that jutted out as long as his forearm, the prick he'd been thinking about all day since the advertisement in the morning Prophet. Aberforth Dumbledore adored big cocks, the bigger the better.

His goats were wonderful companions, but there were times he needed nothing more than a huge fucking cock to suck on. He loved the feeling of the thick, ropy veins, the rolling foreskin, and the taste of the red bulbous head as it glistened with pre-come. He especially loved when Hagrid spunked all over him and the thought of the huge man shooting spunk deep within him made him dizzy with need. His own prick pressed hard and heavy against his kilt, his sporran the only thing providing any sort of friction.

Now he looked up, one-eyed at his long-time occasional lover, and smiled through a face covered with semen.

'Took you long enough.'


He had waited long enough, she had proclaimed once they both stood by her bed, before asking if he wished to undress her or if there were any fantasies he might like to fulfil.

Severus shook his head, already aching with need again despite having spunked earlier.

'In that case,' she waved her short ash wood wand and they were both unclothed. She noted he began to tremble slightly, but was distracted when she looked down. 'Mighty Merlin, Ess, you have a bludger bat!'

He swallowed painfully as she knelt before him to have a better look at his lengthy, rigid cock.

'Morgana's womb just twitched, you know,' she insisted, looking up at his rather sheepish expression. 'You have a beautiful cock, Severus, I swear on my honour. I've never seen a bigger or more beautifully shaped cock.'

He shrugged, looking at it. 'It always seemed a bit... ridiculous. Hard to hide, as well.'

'Some wizards would kill for this, Ess. Seriously. You have at least two dozen centimetres, maybe more. Puts the fool in the Haggler advertising a measly eight inches to shame.'

To her bemusement, Severus blushed, clearing his throat. 'Are you referring to an advert that reads: 8', unshaven & uncut wants to play pole in the hole tonight. Will be at HH.'

'The very one. Why? Do you know who that is?'

His blush increased. 'That advert is very old and it's not eight inches as you and most people probably assume, but eight feet, referring to body height not penile length. The person who wrote it was not particularly learned nor did he have a great deal of money to pay for extra words in the advert. The person who answered it was simply hoping for a man with a large prick and ended up with the proverbial mother lode.'

'So Hagrid is having it off then?'

'He'd be mortified if anyone else knew,' Snape insisted now.

'Relax, Ess. I'm not going to confront him. But... I thought he was with Madam Maxime?'

Snape nodded. 'He has dreams of marrying her, but he sees her once a year at best and she holds him at arm's length and is unwilling to do anything unless they're married, and he has the same needs as any man. He discovered during his younger days that the gender of the person didn't matter to him, so much as their willingness to take on a man of his size. Not many will.'

'There are plenty of women who would love the challenge,' she noted. 'Still, good for old Rubeus. I hope he finds what he needs until Ms Too French To Fart comes off her high perch and sees how lucky she is to have someone as loyal and kind-hearted as Rubeus Hagrid.'

'He already has. Found what he needs, I mean. The advert's become something of a love note between him and his partner. They've seen one another for a good twenty-odd years.'

'That's longer than some marriages these days. Well, well, well. Will wonders never cease?' She smiled, and then looked at Snape with renewed interest. 'How is it that you know about this, Ess? You didn't try to answer the advert?'

Snape flushed scarlet, but shook his head. 'Merlin's bollocks, Zee! You know I'm a... inexperienced.'

'Not a thing wrong with it, either,' she agreed. 'But you must admit a witch might wonder.'

'I didn't answer the advert,' he replied primly now. 'He'd been taken to the Infirmary one morning after a binge the night before, sicking up and badly scratched from having fallen into briars, and as belligerent as a bear with a sore head. I was called in by Poppy to titrate a Sobering Solution for him -- a standard dose won't work on him.'

'I'd imagine not.'

'Whilst I worked out the arithmantic equations, we spoke. Drink loosens any man's tongue, more so Hagrid's. He told me how he'd wound up minced and morngy.'

'I see. Well, good for him.' She looked back down at the now half-hard cock before her and smiled as he gasped when she took it in hand. 'But enough about eight foot tall, unshaven and uncut. I'd like to concentrate on ten inches, uncut and no longer to be untouched.'



'D-don' wan'--' sweat ran from Hagrid as he fought his natural urges.

'Harder, dammit! Put your back into it!'

Rubeus forgot about worrying and put his back into it, moaning as the sensation of his huge prick sliding into warm, welcoming flesh took over.

'Merlin's tits! Yes!'

Aberforth was tugging madly at himself as Hagrid pumped away. Every single encounter they'd ever had, he had to encourage or even force Rubeus to let go. It was part of what he loved about the man, but also part of what drove him crazy.

The half-giant was gentle enough to nurse a butterfly to health, but also strong as a hippogriff on Pepper-Up Potion. Aberforth could appreciate the value of both. Right now, however, he and his spell-protected backside wanted the strength and length.

One particularly strong thrust caused the heavily reinforced bed to squeak alarmingly, but it held as Aberforth felt the seemingly endless pressure press along his prostrate and began to rub himself harder, feeling his bollocks tighten and draw close.

'Yes! Yes! Rube! Rube! Fuck!'

Rubeus held him as Aberforth convulsed, shaking in his arms, dribbling spunk all over the bedspread and only incidentally providing him incredible sensations as his body continued to thrust. He could not have stopped if he'd been able to.

His hips drove into the yielding flesh like pistons. Sweat streamed from him as he neared completion. The only thing his mind encompassed was the incredible sensations stemming from his too long neglected cock and bollocks.


Tendons strained and muscles clenched and Hagrid held perfectly still as he spunked, even as he felt it overflow and bathe his bollocks. The sensation was too good and he chased every last bit of it down until he stood gasping and shaking, still holding on to Aberforth's heavy-boned hips.

'Dear me...'

'Don't dear me, you,' Aberforth remonstrated. 'Get out of me and let me clean us both up so we can have a kip.'

Rubeus blinked, then carefully withdrew and swallowed at the appreciative groan Aberforth made as he did.

'Merlin, man. I swear you get longer every year.'

Hagrid blushed and Aberforth merely smiled as he waved his wand and cleaned them both up. Then he slid back onto the bed and waved a hand to his lover. 'Well? Night's not getting any younger.'

'Right.' Hagrid nodded and lay back and tried not to feel miserably guilty or think of Maxime and was asleep before either could occur.


'Oh, fuck!'

Hooch smiled, unoffended, as she slowly bounced atop her lover, revelling in the sensation of his length filling her. Her work-roughened hands were warm as she pressed her palms to his chest, finger tips continually flicking at his nipples.

She clutched at him, tightening inside and grinning as he cried out, hands clenched and gripping fistfuls of her bed spread. He writhed beneath her, moaning, and Xiomara Hooch revelled in the sight of an unfettered Severus Snape. He was as beautiful as she had imagined.

He began to breathe harder now, pushing his heels for leverage as he began to push up rhythmically, working for his climax even as she reached over to take one of his hands and press his fingers to her clit.

Wild-eyed, he saw what she was doing, but seemed unable to do concentrate on doing anything more than mimic her action, which was all she wanted. She nodded at him, smiling, then let go of his hand to place her own back on his chest and begin to lightly pinch his nipples.

He arched beneath her, then closed his eyes and pushed harder at her aching centre and after a straining moment they both suddenly gasped, beginning to climax jointly.

Their voices mingled into one lingering outcry and then she collapsed atop him, striving to catch her breath even as she could feel his ribcage expanding and contracting with his own great gulps of air. His voice was a trembling whisper of sound.



He panted still, breath gusting along her sweated face and she kissed his neck, his jawline, and then forced herself to lift up slightly and kiss his lips. He obliged her, and then let his head drop back, exhausted. She laid her cheek against his shoulder and smiled, feeling his still partly-hard length inside her and murmuring her satisfaction.

'I had wondered,' he whispered now and her smile grew as she heard the deep rumble of his voice through his chest.


'I wondered about the expression used about sex. The old saw about how it feels like flying.'


'There's some truth to it.'

She considered this, and then recalled what some of the staff had declared when discussing the battle.

'You can fly.'


'Without a broom, I mean.'

'I knew what you meant, Zee.'

'Have you ever tried anything, um, sexual whilst doing that, Ess?'

'Not unless you count the fact it usually gives me an erection.'

She uttered a short laugh, and then admitted, 'I always get wet riding a broom, so I can certainly understand the feeling.'

'Perhaps we should experiment some day.'

Hooch lifted her head to look at him, but he was being serious, she saw.

She kissed him again and this time he clutched at her, holding her closer and then turning, pausing only to gasp as he slid from her and then kissing her again, slowly and with deep feeling. After a few moments of slow, gentle snogging, he pulled back to gaze at her. The expression in his eyes made her feel an unaccustomed tenderness and she lifted a hand to stroke his face, causing him to close his eyes in unabashed appreciation.

He leaned into her touch before opening his eyes and smiling gently.

'I can't express what this means to me, Xiomara.'

'I know, Severus. But let's not make a meal of it. Let's just enjoy it,' she suggested.

He nodded and began to kiss her again.


Aberforth's voice was gruff and sleepy. 'Rube, 'zat you?'

'Yeah. It's me. Woke wi' cock's crow. Sorry. Didn' mean ter wake you.'

'How many years will I have to tell you it's all right, man? Took a dozen before you'd stay the bloody night,' he groused.

Hagrid hung his head, feeling shame. Things were as they were, he knew. Maxime might never see reason. He was lucky Aberforth never asked more than he felt able to give.

'Oh, go on with you,' Aberforth waved a hand. 'Don't be troubling yourself. Just pointing out you don't have to apologise to me. Not for being you.'

Rubeus looked at him for long moments before nodding, clearly touched, but also not wanting to disturb his gruff lover with sentiment.

'Well, then. I'll be back again before too long, Ab.'

'I'll keep an eye out for our advert.'

A world of unexpressed words passed between them and then Hagrid stepped out, softly shutting the door.


The shaft of early morning sunlight drifted across the room and then fell over the two lovers as they slept peacefully on the comfortable bed.

'Mm?' A sleepy Severus lifted his head and squinted myopically at the bright light before recalling just where he was. He blinked over at Xiomara who smiled up at him.

'Well, hello there, tall, pale and sexy.'

To her delight, he had not lost his ability to blush. He cleared his throat before whispering, 'Hello yourself, wild, wanton and delightful.'

'Mm. Hand me my wand, dear,' she requested. 'We both could do with a mouth freshening charm.'

He nodded and squinted until he spied what looked like a small length of wood on her nightstand. He grabbed it and it began to vibrate in his hand. He nearly dropped it in surprise and felt her begin to laugh.

'Merlin's crotch hairs! Oh, that's priceless!'

He frowned, letting go of whatever he'd picked up and fumbled for his spectacles, which he slid onto his face to look at her. The object continued to buzz and he realised it was some kind of sexual device. His face flushed, but he merely lifted an eyebrow at her and this made her laugh harder.

'Ten p-points for effort, but f-five taken for incorrect conclusion -- ha ha ha!'

'Dare I enquire?'

She wheezed with laughter and fought to catch her breath. 'Oh, sweet Morgana, it's been too long since I had such a good laugh. Thank you, dear.'

She kissed him then and, despite the fact both of them had rather rough breath, he deepened it until he found himself atop her, pressed between her legs, morning erection snuggled against her pubic hair. The suddenness of it startled and delighted him. Was it like this for all couples?

'Mm... It's been far too long since I've had a morning lie in,' she murmured.

'Has it?'

She considered this, studying him, and then reached over to deactivate the buzzing device and held it up between them.

'This has been my morning treat, and my only companion, Ess, in many long years.'

He frowned at this. 'I thought--'

'You hear long-repeated and much ballyhooed tales of my prowess on and off the Quidditch pitch which have built to extraordinary, nigh unbelievable lengths over the years and you think Zero Hooch is regularly enjoying the company of willing witches and fast-flying Quidditch jocks?' She smiled to take the sting out of her words, her voice growing gentler. 'Ess... my last relationship's been well over two dozen years ago. Oh, I've had a couple willing young jocks hither and thither, but those were one-nighters. Nothing else.'

He stilled, stricken, and she cupped his face with her hand. Then she slid his specs off and set them gently on the nightstand. This close, she knew he would not need them.

'I didn't know,' he admitted.

'And I didn't know my absolutely favourite person on staff was a virgin until last night.'

He cleared his throat, uncomfortable and she added, 'And whilst you wizards have your sturdy hands and favourite knotholes, we witches need a bit more sometimes, than our fingers can accomplish.'

He was silent for a long moment before finally speaking. 'I know last night was your gift to me, one I'll always treasure, Zee, but... I should like to learn. I'd like to learn how to pleasure you properly. If you could show me?'

She studied his dear craggy face and her eyes filled with unaccustomed tears. How very much she loved him, she realised, swallowing hard.

'That might take some time,' she said lightly now, a teasing tone in her voice as she tamped down her feelings, as was her wont. 'Might take... years.'

He lifted a brow at this and responded in a like manner. 'I see. Witches are that complicated?'

'Some are. And some know a good thing when they find one and don't want to let it get away.' She smiled at him and delighted when he responded in kind.

'I don't think there's anywhere I'd be flying off to anytime soon,' he whispered.

'Good,' she replied as she pulled his head down for another kiss before noting, 'I've got at least a hundred good years left in me. I'd hate to think I'd spend all that time with only my Witches' Wand for company.'


Hagrid sighed in contentment as he drew near his cabin and the sun rose higher in the sky, revealing a beautiful new day, marred only by the site of the still badly damaged castle.

He spotted the approach of the work crews -- the willing students who showed up every day they were able, to help reconstruct it. It filled his heart with pride.

'Hey, there, Hagrid! Fancy seeing you up and about.'

He turned to face a smiling, if curious Harry who had been surveying the work still needing to be done.

'Yeah, well... couldn't sleep in, after all," Hagrid murmured. "Old habit. Years o' gettin' up early'll do that. You'll learn that soon enough once you're an Auror. Early to bed and early to rise they are, at least when they're trainin' you.'

'Yeah, well, I don't even know if they'll accept me, do I?'

'Course they will! You're Harry Potter!'

'I don't want anything just because I was the Chosen One, Hagrid. It wouldn't be fair on the other candidates.'

'A lot o' folks wouldn't see it that way. They'd see it as you getting yer fair dues.'

'It's hardly fair if I bypass someone else who's willing and able to do the same thing and has the same qualifications, but whose only flaw is not being the bloody Chosen One,' Harry grated out, frustrated. He wasn't mad at him, Hagrid knew, but mad at the injustice of it all.

Suddenly, he saw and recognised the flaw in his own life in this regard.

Maxime's face, graceful and beautiful but unapproachable and reluctant, flashed through his mind, followed by Aberforth's, which was careworn but beloved nonetheless, gruff, but caring. The man would be willing, he knew, to see to him if he turned right around and headed back to the Hog's Head and no questions asked. He'd stood by him, a willing ear and a more than willing lover for years.

'What a right, bloody fool,' he said now.

Harry bristled. 'What?'

Hagrid blinked, and then noticed Harry. 'Oh, sorry, Harry. Not talking to you. S'about something else.'

Harry relaxed, but studied his friend and asked, 'Is there anything I can help you with, Hagrid?'

Rubeus shook his head. 'Nah, well, maybe one thing. Could you see ter the animals later? There's something I have to see to. Been long overdue, in fact.'

Harry nodded. 'All right. I can do that. You take care of yourself, okay, Hagrid?'

The first person he'd ever met from the wizarding world, and his most stalwart friend, smiled down at him. 'Oh, aye, Harry! That I will. That I will.'

Then, whistling a jaunty tune, the large man turned around and headed down the road to Hogsmeade.

post a/n: about
- sheela na gigs
- mooncalves
- fwoopers
- runespoors
- blancmange
- minced and morngy

The concoctions Mr Lovegood cooked up and Harriet Hannigan and her principle were my own creations.

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