PAIRING: SS/OC

RATING: It's really pushing it to say NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Severus Snape and other Potter-characters mentioned belong to J K Rowling; the others are mine, but she could use them if she wanted to.

SUMMARY: SS goes to a Conference, in his usual good humour <g>

NOTES: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest: Second Wave {Pairing # 53: An original character}

ARCHIVING: The Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest; others after Fest concludes but please ask first; I just want to know where this is going.

BETA: with thanks to Rhys.

Severus Snape was pissed off.

Not an uncommon feeling for him, but more so now because he had no object on which to vent this anger.

Usually he could make some lowly student's life miserable, yell at Longbottom, hand out detention to Weasley or Potter. He could even make some snide, snippy comment to Dumbledore. That usually helped him feel better.

But none of those was available to him here and now.

He sighed and dropped into the chair facing the large window that looked out onto a view that most of his colleagues were probably revelling in. He was not one of his colleagues. He hated this place.

Who the bloody hell had thought of holding a Wizardry's Conference on an island in the South Pacific ocean?

Yes, it was easy to apparate here. The resort was exclusive enough, and private enough, that the inhabitants just assumed the planes which sat on the small tarmac had indeed brought all these robed, peaked-hatted people here. Besides, they were use to not seeing anything strange, not asking any questions.

Snape wondered how much all this was costing the Finance Committee.

Damn Dumbledore for insisting that he take the time away from Hogwarts to attend! For pressuring him to come for the whole week on the grounds that someone needed to evaluate the innovations coming up in the world of wizardry. As if he didn't know it was only some idiotic excuse for the man to get his hands on Snape's classes. Merlin knew what state his classroom would be in when he returned!

From his window, he could already see that some of his colleagues had tossed off their robes and were cavorting in the waves.

Silly buggers, he thought.

He wasn't any happier with their comportment that night at dinner. Not a real sit-down affair, but one of those idiotic serve-yourself buffets which allowed you to make a pig of yourself with the full approval of those preparing the dishes.

Yes, he'd been right. There was Extremeous Vorillius, going back for what was it? His third helping of seafood?

Not that Vorillius's behaviour seemed out of sorts. Was he the only one who didn't intend to resort to Bromley's Bicarbonate? And seeing some of the clothing his usually serious colleagues were wearing, he had no intention of whipping up some Sunburn Relief Potion as was sure to be requested before the night was over by those who had already over-indulged in the sun.

He stayed long enough to make his position clear to the Organizers and then went off to bed. If anyone knocked on his door seeking relief, he slept through the whole thing.

The next morning was only a little better. There were presentations to attend and the ones he had chosen were well done. He didn't bother to hide his smirk of satisfaction when Professor Kahn wriggled uncomfortably under his robe.

He lost some of that satisfaction when, at luncheon, robes were once more discarded and conversation centred, not on presentations, but on the excursions the Organizers had planned for the afternoon.

Due to the mid-day heat, there would be morning and evening presentations at this Conference; afternoons were for sleeping, sun-bathing, water activities and other such time-wasters.

Snape spent the afternoon in his room, looking over the presentation he was to make on the last day of the week-long Conference. It dealt with the wolfsbane potion and the Organizers had convinced him that he himself needed to deliver it to emphasize the importance of the discovery. "Think of all the help that potion can bring to werewolves everywhere, if only the Potions Masters of their countries know about it!"

And he had agreed to take questions from a Critical Panel.

So he was committed to remaining until the end.

There was a new swatch of redder faces at the evening presentation and then more idiocy as witches and wizards who should have known better conga-ed their way between the tables after late supper.

It was, growled Snape to himself as he avoided being pulled into the line, downright embarrassing. No one seemed to want to act their age!

The second day, to spare himself, Snape asked for a table off to a side by himself. At least he didn't have to see what fools his colleagues were. He sat, his back to the plants the staff had dragged over to give him a further sense of privacy, and read the newest Journal of Novel Potions while he ate whatever the waiter brought for him to eat.

That evening at supper, he was amazed and, quite frankly irritated, when a voice interrupted his reading of an article on whether Nicolas Culpeper's "Complete Herbal" was indeed complete, or even written by Culpeper.

"I was wondering if I might join you?" The voice had a slightly foreign, non-Isles accent to it.

Snape glared and then caught the glare in mid-stream. The wizard standing by his table was robed in a moss green robe which, Snape was certain, had been chosen to match the green of his eyes. He was tall, slim even with the robe on and had to be of an age with Snape. His skin had the same un-sunned pallor as Snape's and his hair more salt than peppered.

"I promise not to force conversation on you." He held up a Journal of his own. "But the staff has informed me that you really have the only private spot in the dining area."

With a less than welcoming gesture, Snape indicated that the man could join him. One of the staff rushed up with a second chair, another with the place setting and a third with a bottle of very excellent white wine.

"Please, may I share this with you as you have been so kind to share your haven with me?"

Snape nodded, again not in a encouraging manner, and a wine glass appeared at his elbow. The wine was as delicious as its label and year had predicted.

"Petronius Yashin," said the green-robed man.

"Severus Snape."

And that was the limit of their conversation. Yashin settled with his journal and ate whatever was brought to him by the waiter, who saw to it that their glasses remained filled until the bottle had been emptied. When done, Yashin rose, nodded to Snape and went off to do whatever it was he was going to go.

The same for the next day, except that Snape noticed that Yashin's complexion was no longer pale but honey-coloured, which only made the green of his eyes more noticeable.

The fourth day, Yashin was waiting at the entrance of the dining hall when Snape showed up for breakfast. "I don't think you're going to want to go in," he said, in a casual manner.

Snape peeked into the hall and moaned. All the tables had been moved so that they made a large circle. Even theirs.

"For some luncheon activity," explained Yashin.

"Merlin's breath!" Snape's scowl would have deterred even Dumbledore.

"Yes, I agree. If I may..." Yashin hesitated. Snape turned to glare at him, as though he were responsible for all this. Yashin bravely withstood the glare.

"Yes?" Snape sighed. It wasn't this man's fault that this Conference was such a fiasco.

"May I suggest that you join me for luncheon? I found a spot where there is shade and, more importantly, quiet. I've already ordered a picnic meal and it won't be any problem for the order to be doubled."

"Quiet?" Snape tried to wipe the scowl off his face.

"By Merlin's beard. We won't hear any of the goings-on."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "The ultimate offering. Yes, I should be very pleased to join you."

"Then shall we meet at the side doors after the last morning presentation?"

Yashin's "spot" was a good ten minute walk from the resort itself. In a small, truly secluded, grassy cove where the staff had arranged a canvas lean-to for shade, a table and some low chairs. There were several containers which Snape assumed were for food and drink.

As Yashin checked what had been prepared for them, contentedly nodding his satisfaction, Snape looked around. The sky was that clear blue one so rarely experienced back in the Isles. The water reflected the same colour back, which made it seem as though there was no real horizon, as though sky and sea flowed one into the other. There was a surf rolling in which added a calming, regular sound to the cove.

"This is..." and the rest of the words disappeared as Snape's tongue stuck to the top of his mouth.

Yashin had removed his robe and tossed it onto one of the chairs. Naked except for a pair of very brief green swimming trunks, he was stretching.

Snape's brain went on hold.

Yashin's body was long and lean, with a dark dusting of hair which began widely at the pecs and narrowed thickly into what had to be the lowest pair of trunks Snape had ever seen. Very little was left to the imagination and suddenly Snape found that his imagination was, in spite of his rarely using it, in quite good working order.

Yashin smiled at Snape, his eyes dancing with a sort of naughtiness. "Care to join me?"

Snape swallowed dryly and only shook his head.

"Is it that you are not able to swim?"

"I can swim," snapped Snape. "I just don't care to."

Yashin smiled more openly and Snape felt a hunger rise in him that had long been dormant.

"Not a problem," said Yashin, turning to hunt for something in his robe. He came up with his wand and, "Imperio!"

Snape went rigid.

"I'm sorry," said Yashin, "but this is for your own good." With another wave of his wand, Snape's robe and clothing appeared on the chair that already contained Yashin's, and Severus Snape stood clad only in a pair of black swimming trunks. Not as small or tight a pair as Yashin's, but something far more modern that anything Snape would own, should he have owned a pair!

Another wave and "There, we are both safe from the harmful rays of the sun. It would be a pity for you to suffer negative consequences of this time, Severus. I hope you don't mind my calling you that. I hope, when the time comes, that you will call me Peter."

He didn't need to see the rage in Snape's eyes to know that possibility might also inhabit the world of imagination.

"Come."

And Snape had no choice but to follow Yashin into the water.

"Show me that you can indeed swim."

Eyes livid, Snape dove into the surf and struck out for open water. Yashin swam at his side, calling a halt when they were about 150 feet off shore.

"You swim very well, Severus. I'm surprised that you haven't been in before this."

Snape said nothing, just continued treading water. Unless asked a direct question, he was unable to speak. And when he did, he would be unable to do more than answer the question asked of him. The only thing he retained control of was the expression in his eyes and with that, he was vocal enough. Yashin had no trouble deciphering Snape's message.

"Yes, I know. You hate me. But this was the only way I knew you might take pleasure out of the beauty of the area and enjoy some of its offerings. Tell me, Severus," the man had the audacity to grin, "have you ever body-surfed?"

"No." Said through clenched teeth as though Snape had tried, to the best of his ability, to deny Yashin the power that he held over him.

"I think you will enjoy this. You have the build for it. Watch me, then follow."

Yashin waited for a wave, manoeuvred his body to the top of it and went riding it in to shore.

He stood in the hip-deep water and watched as Snape tried to copy him with some little success on his first attempt. Once Snape had caught his breath, Yashin took them both out again.

And again, until he stood smiling at the man who rode the top of a wave with elegance and dare he hope? a lightness of spirit.

"Lunch, I think."

Yashin strode out of the water and headed for the lean-to. There, from one of the containers, he pulled out a couple of thick towels and tossed one to Snape who had followed him out of the water.

"So", asked Yashin, rubbing the water out of his hair and off his body, "might I assume that body-surfing is a success?"

Snape was rubbing his hair dry when he realized that Yashin had not ordered him to. Holding the towel in his hands, he looked at the man who was calmly setting containers of food on the table.

"When did you remove the Imperius Curse?"

Yashin looked up and smiled, "While you were battling that big wave. Didn't seem to be necessary any further. Do you prefer beer or wine? There are also some of those delicious fruit drinks."

Snape tried hard to glare at the man who was not at all wary of his reaction. It was hard to drum up any anger considering the fact that he was deliciously tired and hungrier than he could remember being for some time. With a rueful shake of his head, he dropped into one of the free chairs and then watched as Yashin prepared a plate for himself. "Why?"

Yashin swallowed his mouthful and cocked his head to one side. "Because I like you, Severus Snape. And though I understand why you have no desire to join in with the others, I do think your sitting in your room by yourself to be a waste of opportunity. Can you deny that you have enjoyed yourself?"

Snape's eyebrow rose high. He opened his mouth and then, with a sigh, shut it. "No," he finally admitted, reaching for the plate that Yashin had prepared for him. "No, I can't."

"And can you admit that, if not for my use of the Unforgivable Curse, you would never have tried what we have spent such a pleasurable hour doing?"

Snape finished his plate before he answered. "Yes, I suppose I can."

"And would you be so generous as to accept my apology for using the Curse on you? I did not do so lightly, though it may have seemed that way. I did consider many alternatives before coming to the conclusion that it was the only way possible for me to get you into the water."

Snape looked at the glass of iced wine he held in his hand. It was fruity and delicious, something else he would have missed out on if he hadn't come here.

"Yes, I suppose so. Mind you, if it ever happens again, I will kill you."

Yashin's glass stopped half-way to his mouth. He looked over to realize that Snape was perfectly serious. "Severus. I swear. Never again."

Snape stared at the man whose voice and mien understood the sincerity of Snape's promise. Then he nodded, accepting Yashin at his word.

"Besides," Yashin's voice dipped into deeper, huskier tones, "there is something else I wish to do with you and for that, you have to be totally co-operative."

"Really?" Snape's voice was dry.

"Really."

Yashin came to stand next to Snape's chair. Snape looked up, wondering just what the man had in mind. With a hesitant smile, Yashin dropped to his knees, so that his head was about even with Snape's. He reached over, held Snape's face so that it was facing his, and then brought it over to his.

As if in slow motion, Yashin's mouth slid over Snape's, stroked back and forth. Yashin's tongue traced the outline, nudged his lips apart, requesting entrance into his mouth.

Which Snape granted.

Yashin finally pulled back far enough to watch as Snape found the wherewithal to open his eyes. While he waited, his hand caressed the determined jaw, the sensitive skin under an ear, carded its way through still damp hair to the back of Snape's head.

The second kiss was less exploratory, more determined. The third was harder, harsher as there was a play for dominance.

Snape never could remember exactly how they had moved from chair to the grassy carpet under the lean-to, nor what had happened to their swimming trunks. Only knew that a hunger which he had so long denied was being met with an equal hunger.

"I think," gasped Yashin, as Snape's hands were discovering the sensitive spots on his body, as his own explored a long back, "I would like it if you could find it in yourself to fuck me."

"Would you indeed?" Snape's voice was rough and rubbed over Yashin's skin like an abrasive. "And what if the staff decides to check up on us?"

Yashin shook his head. "Privacy ward."

Snape raised himself up to examine the man under him. "You were very sure of yourself."

Yashin's hand stroked the length of Snape's neck, across, and back down. "No. Just hopeful." He wriggled so that he could reach the pocket of his robe. From it, he pulled out a small vial and handed it to Snape. "And prepared for the eventuality should hope bear out."

Snape took the vial in his hand, smiled a bit coolly. "Like the proverbial boy scout."

"Except," Yashin's tones dropped into toe-curling promise, "I was never a boy scout. I like it hard, Severus. And I would like you to do me hard."

Snape was certain that even if the cove had not been spelled against passers-by, had any come near, the sounds they made, as of two animals rutting, would have deterred any from lingering.

They dozed, Yashin's head on Snape's shoulder.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?" Snape was too sated to do more than indicate he was capable of listening.

"May I invite you to sup in my room tonight?"

Snape found the energy to nod. "Thank you. I do believe I would like that."

The last day of the conference arrived far too quickly for Snape. Not only did it mean that his time with Yashin was coming to an end, but he was presenting his paper on his wolfsbane potion in front of a less than appreciative audience.

Werewolves were not popular creatures. Most wizards and witches felt sorry for their plight, but they still didn't want them around. Even if the potion did work as Snape had indicated in his article published in the Journal of Novel Potions, there were, in their eyes, too many variables that were still in the hands of the werewolves themselves.

Snape entered the hall to find it filled, not a spare seat in the place. As he made his way up to the stage, as he settled his papers on the podium set up for his talk, he surreptitiously looked for a green robe and could not find it.

The Critical Panel began entering and Snape nodded at each of them in turn. There were four so far, all of them known to him, all of them experts in their respective fields. He knew he was in for some hard questioning but he was confident in his work.

His resolution wavered when the fifth member took his place. Petronius Yashin met Snape's first stunned then progressively angrier glare.

The presentation ran over-time. The audience was divided as to the benefits of the potion, its effectiveness.

Snape, in very un-Snape-like behaviour which would have astonished the staff and students of Hogwarts, took all their questions patiently, even those which had some in the audience moaning aloud at their stupidity.

Too many wizards and witches believed that werewolves actually enjoyed what happened to them, enjoyed having an excuse to go on killing sprees. Several of them left in protest over the strength of his convictions, over his refusal to allow that, in werewolf hands, his potion could be used against wizardry. Werewolves, he reiterated time after time would rather retain their humanity.

He had prepared well and defended his potion, its ingredients, its application, its potential side effects to the Panel with a determination that would not have surprised Hogwarts. When Snape believed in something, he did not do so in half-measures. His answers were presented in a cool, dry tone, even when the questions and challenges came from the man whose body had become so familiar to him these last days.

As he gathered his papers together, Snape knew that he had convinced only a few, but the rest had been given something to think about; who knew where that might lead to? The werewolves needed Potion Masters to create the potion for them and, as long as there were some Potion Masters willing to test his potion, there was hope.

He would have to be satisfied with that.

Several members of the Panel came to speak to him; the Organizers, to applaud his work and to thank him for ending the week on such a excellently controversial note. They were certain that this Conference and his presentation would be the subject of discussion for some time coming.

Yashin was not among them.

Snape was in his room, his bag packed, ready to leave for the disapparating point when there was a knock on his door.

He couldn't say that it was totally unexpected.

Yashin stood at the door, waiting for an invitation. Snape seriously considered not extending one.

"Please, at least allow me to explain."

After making Yashin wait long enough for Snape to see discouragement in his eyes, Snape moved back, allowing the man to come in.

"I need to apologize to you, Severus. And I need you to understand."

Snape's mouth had tightened at Yashin's use of his first name. His face set in the expression all too well known by students, Snape growled, "Then do so quickly, Yashin. I was about to leave."

Yashin took a turn about the room. Finally, he stood by the window, looking out.

"I am, like yourself, a Potions Master. My specialty is the care and treatment of werewolves. In your part of the world, Snape, werewolves are at best ignored, ostracized. At worse, shot. In my part of the world, they are tortured merely for being what they cannot help to be."

Yashin turned to face Snape, his voice growing colder, angrier, his accent stronger as he spoke. "Have you ever seen a man or woman nailed to a board so that those around can see the werewolf rip itself to pieces as it transforms? Have you ever had to treat a werewolf who has bitten off one of its own legs after it has been caught in a trap of incredible barbarity? How many have you had die in your arms, Snape?

These people have not asked to be werewolves. Some are born as such. Others have had the misfortune of being bitten by one and so join them in their sad excuse for a life.

They live and die hunted, some only surviving due to the help that even fewer are willing to extend to them.

How was I to know which one you were?"

Snape passed his hands through his hair, frustrated with his anger and his feeling of betrayal, and yet understanding far too well why Yashin had behaved as he had.

"You could have gotten to know which one I was without the sex."

Yashin nodded, his face and voice softening. "I knew that you were a man of honour that first day, Snape. That your potion was real, not just another ploy for the enjoyment of watching someone else's pain. That it had been created out of your own concern for the plight of werewolves. The fact that you might lead me to a way of helping the werewolves of my world find a way to survive, to escape the traps that fellow humans have set up; that they, retaining their human intelligence, would be able to see, would be able to avoid became secondary.

There are two of you, Snape. The Potions Master and the man. I needed to make a decision about the first for my patients. The second was for me."

Yashin went to door and stopped facing it, his back to Snape. "I enjoyed our time together, Severus. Once you allow someone beyond that dour facade you present to the world, there is a man well worth knowing. I'm sorry if I hurt you. You may gain satisfaction in knowing that, in hurting you, I hurt myself as well."

Yashin's hand was on the doorknob when Snape came up behind him. "Peter."

Dumbledore looked up from the message that the owl had delivered to him. "It's from Severus," he announced to the staff at their morning break in the teachers' lounge.

The expression on Dumbledore's face caused everyone to worry and wonder.

"Is he all right?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Would be ironic," said Professor Flitwick to Professor Binns, "considering how much he protested about his having to attend."

"No, he assures me that he is fine," said Dumbledore as he dropped the message to the table. "It's just to inform me that he will be absent for another week."

Gasps of disbelief went around the table. Snape was never one to take time off and then, only in certain circumstances such as this presentation at the Conference. The fact that he had attended this one had only been due to the pressure Dumbledore had inflicted on him. To stay away longer ... well, the reason had to be extremely serious.

"Seems," here Dumbledore picked the note, shook his head as though not believing what he was reading, "something...I think," Dumbledore squinted at the words, "he's written 'the surf'...is up."

The End

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