WARNING: This is a slash story, which means it contains male/male erotic content involving consenting adults. If you're not of legal age or are offended by such material, please go find something else to read.

Title: A Hint of Lemon
By: JayKay
Email: eyre68@yahoo.com
Rated: NC17
Category: Humor
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters and concepts are copyrighted by JKR and Warner Brothers; this is for non-profit, entertainment purposes only.
Summary: Lupin comes to Snape to help scratch a potion-induced itch.
Notes: Response to Scenario # 58: A surreptitious substitution for an ingredient in Snape's Wolfsbane Potion has unexpected consequences.

It was just one small change. Inconsequential, really.

Snape had overheard Dumbledore ask Lupin if the Wolfsbane potion was working well, and Lupin had replied yes, it worked quite well, and while the taste was a little... strong, the results were more than worth it.

It was, Snape knew, the closest Mr Oh-So-Polite would ever come to voicing a complaint. Annoying man. Always so damned calm and accepting all the time. It wasn't just the lycanthropy that was unnatural about Remus Lupin; it was also his refusal to complain about anything like any normal person would do.

Still, if Lupin had come that close to actually complaining about the taste, then it must have been like drinking pigshit. Initially, Snape was torn between professional pride and petty glee, but in the end, pride won out. He would never have it said that one of his potions was nearly undrinkable.

Thus he had made one small change, adding a bit of lemon to cut the taste. Lupin took his tea with lemon, so he should like that better.

But pride, as they say, goeth before a fall, and in his determination to give Lupin no further cause for mild complaint, Snape neglected to consider how the added ingredient would react with the other ingredients, and the subtle balance that would be tipped.

The scratching began not long after moonrise. Snape was settled in his armchair in his quarters, devouring a new potions journal that had arrived in that morning's owl post. There was a fascinating article on the latest advances in shrinking solutions, and Snape was so absorbed that the scratching went on for nearly five minutes before it penetrated his awareness and brought him back to reality.

Scowling, he flung the journal aside and stomped to the door, yanking it open and glaring ferociously --

-- at nothing.

The scowl melted into a puzzled look as he peered out, and the puzzled look gave way to surprise when he felt something bump against his legs. Glancing down, he discovered a large, heavy wolf rubbing against him and moving into a position that looked suspiciously like it planned to --

"I think *not*!" he exclaimed, leaping backwards before it could actually begin humping. "Lupin!" For his nocturnal, lupine visitor could be no one else. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

In response, the wolf trotted into his parlor, turned and nudged the door shut with its nose, and then turned back to him, regarding him with a predatory look in its yellow eyes.

Snape stared at it, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what was going on. As far as he knew, Lupin never left his quarters when he was in wolf-form, even though he was, theoretically, still possessed of his human mind and therefore not a threat. However, faced with a wolf that was looking at him as if he were a delicious wolf treat, Snape was finding the "not a threat" part a little difficult to believe.

"Lupin, that *is* you in there, isn't it?" he asked hesitantly.

In response, the wolf dropped to the floor and began inching towards him, its eyes half-lidded, panting with... Oh, God, was that *lust* shining in those feral eyes? Snape backed away until he bumped into his chair, then scrambled up onto it, as if that would somehow keep him safe from a creature that could easily knock the chair over with its bulk and strength.

"Accio wand!" he cried. His wand flew to his hand, and he pointed it shakily at the advancing werewolf. "Lupin, I'm warning you..."

With a pitiful whine, the wolf rolled over, exposing its belly and --

"Oh, for God's sake, Lupin, I did *not* want to see *that*!"

Seeming undeterred by the threat of Snape's wand, the wolf began writhing on the floor in a strangely sensuous manner while Snape huddled on his chair, wondering how the hell he was going to get himself out of this scrape. Apparating was out of the question; the fireplace was too far away, and he'd never get any powder out of the jar before the wolf reached him. If he made a break for the door, the wolf would easily catch him. His only option was to hit it with a spell -- to bind it or paralyse it -- before running like hell.

While he was considering his options, the wolf eased itself closer to his chair, then, with lightning quick reflexes, leapt and landed right in front of him, burying its nose in his crotch.

"LUPIN!"

His outraged roar echoed throughout the room, but it didn't deter the amorous werewolf in the least. He scrabbled to escape, but the wolf plopped its heavy paws on his lap, pinning him as it snuffled happily at his most private and delicate area.

Dropping his wand, he grabbed the wolf's ears and yanked the huge, furry head up, forcing it to meet his eyes. "I am *not* going to play concubine to a werewolf, Lupin. I don't know what the bloody hell has got into you, but this has got to stop *now*."

But the sheer desperation in the wolf's eyes told Snape that this sudden surge in its libido wasn't under its control. Something was working on it, strengthening its sex drive, urging it to mate.

A fierce scowl creased Snape's features as he struggled to keep the wolf from burying its muzzle in his lap again and to think what might be causing this. As far as he knew, there weren't certain moons that affected werewolves more than any others, certainly not in this way. He'd never heard of rampant lust being a side-effect of lycanthropy. That left only one other option.

The potion.

"Snape, you incompetent fool," he muttered.

Of *course*! Why hadn't he thought of that before? The lemon was to blame. The acidic citrus caused a chemical reaction, turning the potion into an aphrodisiac as well. He'd inadvertently made Lupin horny as hell, and Lupin had -- perhaps instinctively, perhaps because he had nowhere else to turn -- come to him for relief.

"Look." Snape leaned down until he was almost nose-to-nose with the beast. "I am *not* letting you touch me while you're in this form, so you can forget any ideas you might have along those lines right now. However, since I'm responsible for putting you in this state, I'll see what I can do to help... alleviate the urgency."

The look in those inhuman eyes was clearly a grateful one, and Snape got a wide, wet tongue-swipe on his nose, presumably in thanks.

Ten minutes later, he had a werewolf snoring on his hearth rug, knocked out by the most potent sleeping draught in his personal inventory.

He doubted that was the solution Lupin would have preferred, but the thought of masturbating a wolf, or letting it hump itself to completion on any portion of his anatomy was distasteful, and with any luck, the effects of the aphrodisiac would wear off by the time Lupin woke up.

Pleased with himself for coming up with such an expedient solution, Snape changed into his nightshirt and went to bed, willing to let Lupin sleep on his floor for one night, especially since he didn't particularly want to explain why he'd been obliged to drug Lupin senseless if they were spotted in the corridors.

He was awakened the next morning by a warm, naked body molding itself against his from behind.

"Interesting turn of phrase you used last night, Severus," Lupin whispered in his ear, his voice rough and throaty. "You said you wouldn't let me touch you while I was in wolf-form, but you didn't say anything about not letting me touch you in my normal state."

'Can't really argue with that,' Snape thought muzzily as strong, slender fingers slipped beneath his nightshirt and wrapped around his penis, stroking it to full hardness. This was followed quickly by, 'I see he found a suitable lubricant,' as Lupin entered his sleep-relaxed, unresisting body with gentle thrusts. And then Snape stopped bothering to think at all as Lupin began to move, maddeningly slow pushes that brushed against his prostate and sent sparks skittering along his nerve endings and short-circuiting his brain.

He shifted his leg to give Lupin better access, gasping as Lupin increased his speed with both his hand and his hips, pounding with a relentless rhythm that Snape was fast losing himself in. His last coherent thought before letting himself be swept away was that maybe the lemon hadn't been such an awful mistake after all...