Pairing: SS/PMG of the OPS

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Severus Snape and other Potter-characters mentioned belong to J. K. Rowling; the others are mine, but I don't think that anyone will want to use them.

Summary: Snape accidentally interrupts an inspection.

Notes: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest: Second Wave {Pairing # 63: Any or all of the owls in the owlery.}

Warning: Read the scenario carefully.

Archiving: The Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest; others after Fest concludes but please ask first; I just want to know where this is going. Not that I think anyone is going to want this one. (Snicker)

Beta: with thanks to Rhys.

As Postmaster General of the Owl Postal Service, it is my duty to make an annual inspection.

Boring procedure on the whole.

Has to be done because once we discovered a relay station had been invaded by ferrets and weasels and stoats. Mail went in, nothing came out.

Bit messy to deal with, that was.

So now I show up, unexpected, to see what is what.

I try to pick a night when the non-feathered ones are sure to be busy. That way I can swoop in and out without being seen, and my owls can present any grievances they have without having to worry about repercussions.

Hogwarts Owlery is a pretty easy inspection. Oh, there are a few complaints, usually about the food. The beasts of the Forbidden Forest are not exactly co-operative in allowing themselves to be fodder for my owls, but that Rumbleberry fellow has negotiated an understanding with those beings we don't service and my people can harvest the fields in their area.

I was very pleased that he was willing to deal with them. Personally, I don't understand them. They prefer using a service that is not personalized, rarely on time, and is forever damaging – or what is worse, losing!– things. Grumblederry says it's because they are "mechanized", whatever that means. I think they think they're too good for us.

Well, their loss. My owls clean up their fields and don't have to work in return. Makes things easier for the Service.

Now then, I was on my way into Hogwarts. Bit of a tight squeeze that, but I managed to make it through the window by taking a good dive, holding my wings close to my body and, though I always lose a feather or two, I usually have no more trouble than that.

Getting out is a good deal trickier. I lose more than a couple of feathers then, but that's the cost associated with being Postmaster General.

Now this inspection was coming along quite well.

Not many complaints.

Well, there were the usual Weasley ones. Sigh. I suppose as long as those keep on reproducing, there will be Weasley complaints.

Not that they're mean or anything. But the things my owls have to carry with this generation are sometimes a little startling, to say the least.

Seems this time something called "happy balls" exploded and the owl carrying them lost control and hit a tree. Not hurt and not really complaining, but still, something I shall have to mention in my report to the Wizardry Committee. Dangerous items are supposed to be properly labelled and the owl is to be notified so that it can refuse to serve.

Athena knows, there are enough of the young ones who love a bit of danger that service would still be provided.

Hmmm, note to myself. See to it that all Weasley deliveries are automatically assigned to the Hazardous Squad.

And, apart from that, things were going rather well when suddenly the door opened and this male came charging in, muttering.

Now then, there is an understanding that was negotiated between the WC and the OPS that no one interferes when I am inspecting.

No one.

And here was one of them, not even noticing that I was in the owlery as he went up to one of my people and started tying some message to her leg.

The poor thing kept trying to hop away from him, looking at me all embarrassed and, at the same time, using her wing in her attempts to get the male to notice he was interrupting a private meeting.

The male had to be more stupid than most. He growled impolitely at my owl and kept insisting that she hold still so that he could get his message tied.

She finally had to nip him hard, almost breaking the skin, for him to realize that something required his attention.

Now those who use the OPS know that there is a Postmaster General. But the nature of the Postmaster General, my specific existence, is not generally known. I've met face to face with only a few of these creatures and they are sworn to secrecy. Security and all that.

So when the male turned to see what was going on, he put me in a very delicate position.

In the old days, it would not have been a problem. I would just have eaten him.

But with the Contractual Agreement of Wizard Time 1413, it had been determined that I would no longer do this.

Still, something had to be done. Security had been breached and, though I didn't have the ability to wipe his memory, I was permitted to do something to assure his silence on my existence.

"Merlin's beard! You really do exist!"

Well, of course I did. I suppose the obvious can be hard for them to fathom at times.

The male turned to leave, but at a small signal from me, my owls saw to it that any way of escape was blocked off.

He quickly assessed the situation. He turned back to me, held himself straight, folded his hands into his sleeves and gave me a little nod of his head. "My name is Severus Snape. I am Potions Master here at Hogwarts."

Sigh. One of those. Good thing I don't eat these any more. I'm not as young as I used to be. Now I don't digest this type easily. Tough and stringy. Not much flesh on him.

"I really must insist that you allow me to leave."

Oh!

Really.

Did he now?

I hated being spoken to in that superior tone. No one spoke to me that way. Well, Athena did, but she alone was above me. And she didn't do it often. Only when she was really irritated by something her family had done.

I took my time looking the male over very carefully.

My people realized that they were in for some rare entertainment. I could hear them snickering to themselves. Moving in closer. Some were flying up to the rafters of the owlery, to get a better view of the proceedings.

Now then, it had been some time since I had had some fun with these creatures. And since Hogwarts had so few problems to deal with, I could take the time and still remain on schedule.

According to the Contractual Agreement of 1413, subclause LXXXV, 41, iii; if I was interrupted, I was permitted to decide what form of "silencing", apart from the obvious, I could utilize to assure myself of continued security.

The male was not quite as tall as I was. The face was harsh, the eyes interesting. Black like those of my favourite of the moment. Intelligent...for a wizard. And meeting mine as though he considered himself my equal.

I found myself humming.

Now that I looked at him in a different light, he could prove to be a tasty morsel.

He must have sensed that I had come to a decision because, still facing me, he stepped back as though making for the door.

‘No, my pretty. You won't be leaving, not now, not until I'm through with you.'

Not that he understood owlese.

At a signal, the larger owls took wing and corralled him against a wall.

As they kept him occupied, smaller ones gleefully swooped down and, with some difficulty – he was not really co-operating – managed to divest him of what passes for feathers among his kind.

There were lots of titters from those who were only watching, tossing out encouragement to those who were having, I believe, the time of their lives, stripping the feathers from the male.

Of course, he didn't find it funny. He kept trying to keep these featherish things on, swatting at my people as he did so, cursing away at them.

But in less time than I would have thought, my people had de-feathered the male.

He stood against the wall, breathing hard, glaring angrily at all and sundry.

My people perched well back, allowing me to approach him.

He had the audacity not only to glare at me, but also to mutter things that I knew were spells. Fortunately for me – unfortunately for him – they have no effect on me. I am immune to their wizardry. Athena had chosen me as her favourite eons ago and I am protected by her.

I looked the male over. Yes, tough and stringy...but not badly put together.

I raised a wing and let my feather-tips gently stroke the length of his body.

He wriggled, not liking that.

I did it again.

Well, maybe he didn't like it, but a certain part of his body obviously did.

I am not unfamiliar with male anatomy. Apollo and I had cavorted now and then until Athena had caught us at it. She had automatically assumed that it had all been Apollo's idea. Well, it had been, but I had certainly never protested when he'd initiated those little games he so liked.

And this one wouldn't be the first male whose silence I had guaranteed in this manner.

"No! I refuse to participate in this...this...oh, Merlin! Damn it all to hell!"

A wing is a very sensitive tool to use and I had been using mine to my advantage for more time than I wished to consider. By concentrating the tips of my feathers on his groin, on his chest, between his legs...well, all I can say is that I think he must have been very thankful that the floor had fairly recently been swept.

I used one wing to keep him from moving about too much, the other to elicit those squeaks, squawks, moans and groans out of him.

Once he got going, he was very noisy, not so arrogant any more.

I waited until his cock was at full mast before I gestured to the tinier of my people to go set it up properly for me. The male's member had to be held in an upright position for me to make use of it. The little one named Pig, associated with the Weasleys, was brave enough – also foolhardy enough, must be that Weasley influence!– to do so.

I was careful before I settled myself on the male's member, but Pig barely had time to remove himself when the male buckled under me, raising his hips so that his cock slid into the proper orifice.

I made certain that my attendant owl had not been harmed before I sought my pleasure. I am a good leader; my people come before my comfort.

Holding the male firmly between my wings, I raised and lowered myself, meeting his thrusts, using my feather-tips to further elicit more of those incredible sounds out of him.

These creatures are far more vocal than we are. And loud. I wondered if we might not attract attention but then remembered the reason I had chosen this night to inspect. A feast of some kind.

The male suddenly froze in an arched position, his breathing stopped, his eyes rolling back into his head. His cock exploded within me and I thought it was a good time to follow suit.

Not bad as orgasms went. Well, for one of those with these creatures.

Nothing, of course, compared to what my favourite could make me feel.

I stepped back from the male and wondered that he didn't seem to be moving. Athena! I hadn't killed him, had I?

Pig quickly hopped up and checked.

‘No, PMG, sir. He's still breathing. Looks like he's fallen asleep.'

Asleep? These creatures have no staying power. Probably why they have never attained the ability to fly.

At my order, all his non-feathers were carried over and used to cover him. I finished my inspection, promised to deal with the Weasley problem, gave Pig a decade of extra life in thanks for his help this night and, with the loss of merely a few feathers, took off for the next relay station I had to inspect.

Oh, I knew the male would prefer to re-feather himself in privacy so, before leaving, I called all my people to me and had them escort me until I sensed the male wake and leave the owlery.

My people are Discretion itself. No one would ever hear of this night's security break from them. I would be very surprised if the male ever spoke of it.

They never do.

I suppose the honour of being taken by the goddess Athena's favourite is too much for them and they don't care to share the experience.

The End

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