Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, they belong to J.K. Rowling.

Bent

Remus idly watched Snape as the Potions Master strode from the Great Hall. Well, strictly speaking he watched Snape's back, what he could see of it beneath the billowing robes... so annoying, that voluminous black fabric....
     Snape was so... so... upright. Even when imitating a bat, as some of the more forward of his students had been known to mutter. That back never seemed to bend. Straight, stiff, unbending...
     It was symbolic of the man himself, of course. Snape wasn't exactly the most... flexible of individuals, either emotionally or physically. Remus had never seen him slouch, certainly not once he'd reached adulthood. Even seated he held himself rigidly upright, straight-backed and taut. It was almost as if he was afraid to relax... aHA! Of course. As a spy, he'd never been able to properly relax. Never fully let his guard down. And that was still echoed in his body language.
     Remus knew all about body language – it was, after all, the most intimate method of communication for all warm-blooded creatures, even if humans did try so hard to disguise their instinctive reactions to life. Of everyone he'd ever met, Snape was the most tightly self-controlled, most guarded, although even he wasn't able to deny the most primal response to stimuli. Fear made him flinch. Anger tightened his lips. Attraction? Well, his eyes were so dark you couldn't really see his pupils...
     Remus chuckled to himself. Trying to analyse Snape was pretty much futile. And probably self-defeating anyway. But the man really should try to unbend a little. Being that tense all the time couldn't be good for his health.

Remus paused outside the door, frowning. There were voices. Two voices. Snape had someone in his rooms with him?
     Remus shook his head. It was none of his business who Snape entertained. Admittedly it was most unusual for the Potions Master to invite anyone to his rooms. As far as anyone knew, at any rate... Remus leaned a little further towards the solid wooden door, ears pricked, his curiosity aroused – his sense of hearing heightened with the onset of the full moon.
     "Harder..."
     Remus' eyebrows rose. That had been Snape, and he sounded both annoyed and a little breathless. All pretence abandoned, Remus shamelessly pressed his ear to the door.
     There was an odd sort of scrabbling sound, then a grunt. Followed by another grunt, then several more in succession.
     "Harder, idiot!"
     A noise that sounded vaguely like something solid banging against a wall. Remus' eyebrows had climbed nearly to the top of his head.
     "Pull HARDER!"
     'Pull'? 'Pull?!' What the devil was Snape up to in there?
     "I tries, Master!"
     Remus jerked away from the door, startled. That was... no, surely it couldn't be... a house-elf... Could it?
     "Tighter!" Snape's voice sounded strained, and Remus hesitated, wondering whether he should knock. Or ask if Snape needed help. Or something. But Snape didn’t sound as though he was under duress...
     There was a loud gasp, followed by a sigh.
     "That will do." Snape's voice sounded relieved, and the house-elf – Remus was sure it was a house-elf – scuttled away from whatever it had been doing.
     Which summoned up some thoroughly unpleasant images to Remus' mind.
     Surely not. Snape was probably the most asexual creature Remus had ever met. It was almost impossible to imagine him... Remus shook his head to clear it. No, not Snape. Ye gods, that was as bad as imagining Dumbledore tumbling Minerva...
     Oh god, now he really had to scrub out his mind or he'd not be able to face breakfast!
     Swallowing convulsively, he strode swiftly away from Snape's door and onwards to the Great Hall.

The following morning found Remus outside Snape's rooms again. He hadn't meant to end up there, he'd been distracted, planning elaborations of today's Defence Against the Dark Arts sessions, and somehow managed to drop his notes right outside the door. Bending down to gather them up, he heard voices again. Snape's – and a different house-elf.
     This one sounded male.
     Remus stood slowly and pressed his forehead against the wood, feeling a little peculiar. Slightly nauseous, perhaps.
     "Harder... no, harder..."
     A loud grunt, then the sound of something heavy scraping across the floor.
     "Harder, I said! Tie them tighter!"
     "'es aster..."
     Remus blinked. That sounded like a house-elf trying to speak with its mouth full...
     "Arrgghh!"
     "orry aster..."
     Remus could feel sweat prickling his forehead. This was... no, that sounded like Snape was in pain. He could, legitimately, now mount a rescue mission...
     Because the curiosity was killing him.

He tapped – perhaps a little too quietly but then, his hearing was enhanced at the moment, it sounded loud to him - at the door, and without waiting for an answer unlocked it and shoved it open.
     "Severus! Are you all... ri..."
     For several horrified seconds the two men stared at each other. Then Remus, his face flushing a deep red with sheer embarrassment, gabbled something that could have been 'sorry!' and stepped back out, closing the door just in time to prevent his being hit on the head by the heavy jar Snape had thrown in his direction. He hastened back to his own rooms, one hand over his mouth, dropping the papers on a table and leaning against the wall, finally giving vent to the hysterical laughter that had been forcing its way up from his chest.
     That image had been burned onto his mind. He'd never get rid of it. Snape, almost naked, gripping the upright of his four-poster bed while the house-elf – both feet firmly planted on the Potions Master's backside and leaning backwards almost horizontally – struggled with the laces...
     ... of a tight black leather corset...
     ... that covered Snape from nipples to navel...
     ... and lower at the... back...
     ... oh god...
     Remus slid down the wall and buried his face in his hands, trying desperately to draw breath between guffaws.

Half an hour later, when he'd recovered a little, splashed his face with cold water, and managed to get his breath back, he made his way down to breakfast. Managing not to break into laughter again when he saw Snape. The Potions Master fixed him with an icy glare that threatened dire retribution should he so much as breathe a word of what he'd seen, and Remus nodded almost imperceptibly. He had been in the wrong, after all.
     So. That explained Snape's upright posture and rigid back. Quite why he wore the thing Remus wasn't sure he wanted to know... no, actually, he did. Want to know, that is. Because now he came to think of it...
     Mm. It was really quite fetching. And the house-elf had been making a bit of a hash of the lacing.
     He wondered idly if Severus might welcome a human hand helping him to dress of a morning...

noesumeragi was inspired to create a gift-pic for me to go with the story! (I love it...)