Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, I'm just playing quietly in a corner of somebody else's sandpit…
There were two things that saved Snape in the aftermath of the final battle. First, that it was he who stumbled over an unconscious Harry Potter near the sticky remains of the Dark Lord, and second, that it was Remus Lupin who found him with his wand drawn, kneeling over the helpless boy, and not someone more inclined to think the worst of him.
Snape hadn't given the shocked werewolf any time to draw the wrong conclusion.
"Potter's badly hurt. I've done what I can but he needs to be taken to St Mungo's immediately." He got to his feet and stepped back. "I'll leave him to you."
Lupin knelt and gently scooped the Wizarding World's apparent saviour into his arms.
"You'd better go." He didn't look at Snape. "I'll take care of Harry."
"Goodbye, Lupin."
Remus flashed him a half-smile and the sadness in his tawny eyes sent a surge of unexpected pain through Snape's guts.
"We're always saying goodbye, aren't we, Severus?" He lifted his chin. "Go now." He whispered curtly. "Good luck."
Snape drew his blood-stained cloak closely about himself, then apparated...
That was four months ago. Four, drear, wintry months lying low amongst London's homeless. It was depressingly easy to disappear from both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds, if you were willing to forego little luxuries like a bed, hot water, regular food. He hadn't been idle, however; far from it. He wasn't completely helpless in the Muggle world – in the past he'd had cause to venture in every now and again - but even so there was incidental knowledge he needed, to lessen the chances of making a mistake that could single him out. A certain amount of eccentricity was expected amongst street people but if he was too overtly 'weird' he could find himself locked away in a Muggle institution for the insane. The experiences of his early childhood were of little use now; his father's world had moved on astonishingly since then. Fortunately Muggle public libraries were easy to access and had the added benefit of not stocking items that would try to eat your fingers if you bent their spines too far. Snape couldn't borrow anything – you needed proof of identity for that – but there was nothing to stop him finding a quiet corner and sitting down to read for several hours, especially as he took some care to keep himself and his limited stock of clothes clean. He wasn't going to be thrown out because he smelt.
It was odd at first, reading newspapers that only carried static pictures. Snape swung between mildly disgusted and mildly rueful that the standard of reporting in some titles equalled, or was considerably worse than, the inanity of the Prophet. As for the magazines, well… Muggles seemed to have a publication for everything: gardening, cookery, 'fashion', odd little hobbies, television – which was something he vaguely remembered - and sports. Gods above, Snape had no idea just how many games could be played without broomsticks. The more he read, the more information he acquired, the more he came to regard the Muggle world like a mad woman's knitting; haphazard, colourful, utterly without sense.
Snape's days fell into a pattern. He'd spend as many of the daylight hours as he could in libraries, or if the weather wasn't too bad, walking about the city, familiarising himself, finding the boltholes and escape routes. The habits of a lifetime of caution were hard to break.
He had precious little usable money but there were charitable institutions that doled out food to the homeless so he wasn't going to starve, and occasionally, if he sat long enough in one place, people passing would toss him coins. He'd been incensed at first – he wasn't reduced to begging – but, money was money and if some Muggles were willing to throw it away then that was their look out. There was ironic comfort in the thought that he looked derelict enough for people to pity him. No one from the Wizarding world would expect to see proud Severus Snape in such reduced circumstances.
The days passed; the nights however, were hard. That was when, regrettably, he had time to think. He could've drunk himself into a stupor to avoid it – many in his situation did – but the ingrained need for constant wariness scuppered even that potential escape. So, in the dark, huddled alone or with others of the anonymous congregation, there was little Snape could do to stop himself churning things over in his mind. He frequently thought about Lucius, but then the elder Malfoy was a safe subject for reminiscences. There was no pain in the memories as he'd some time ago relegated their relationship to 'the past'. Though that rather glossed over the coldly practical facts: Snape had – emotionally - put his friend and occasional sexual partner aside after Lucius had been captured and sent to Azkaban. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he'd set Lucius aside after he'd let Lupin in past his defences…
In moments of dark paranoia Snape berated himself for weakness. Lupin was a liability, the only person to have seen him alive after the battle. He'd know, or would guess, that the pile of ashes near Snape's discarded wand weren't the remains of the potions master. It was dangerous – foolish – to assume the wretched man would keep his mouth shut because of the few moments of pleasure they'd shared. No one could be that idealistic, that stupidly loyal, could they? If Snape had been half the ruthless Death Eater he was supposed to be he would have killed the werewolf without a qualm. But he hadn't killed him, and he didn't want to examine too closely his reasons for letting him live.
Anyway, Lupin was not a safe subject to dwell on. Thinking about him hurt and Snape couldn't risk losing what little edge he had to despair. Far more productive to turn his finely tuned intellect to the problem of what now? He'd assumed for years that his life was going to go arse up at some point and so he'd had escape plans in place – which was all very well but he'd never given much thought to what would happen once he'd left the Wizarding world. What was he supposed to do with himself? His original intention had been to lay low, disappear among the Muggles for a while then when it was safe, sneak back and retrieve the 'retirement fund' he'd stashed in the forest and then… what? Beyond vague notions of going abroad he'd never really managed to plan past that point. Perhaps subconsciously he'd never expected to live that long.
The weather slowly, consistently, began to improve and London dragged itself into a frail and watery Spring. Snape, like so many of the locals, took advantage of the moments of almost-warmth, soaking up the sunshine in the city's parks. Unlike the locals, though, Snape didn't have to dash off anywhere. He could bask at leisure, and he did, enjoying the change of seasons as he hadn't since he was a small boy. With the return of the sun his mood improved and he found he wasn't quite so prone to fits of moroseness. In fact there were times he surprised himself with how perilously close he was to being cheerful. Unheard of! Severus Snape was not cheerful! But still, it was a pleasant state. He could go somewhere warm to live, he mused, spend the rest of his life drowsing in a heat-sated daydream and never be unhappy again…
And then the sun would disappear, the temperature would drop and Snape would once again be brought back to the realities of his existence. In short, he had nowhere to go, no prospects, and no reason to live except out of habit. He didn't want to die, though, either, which left him in a bit of a quandary. No going forwards, no going back, just… hanging around waiting for something to happen while very carefully not thinking of the might-have-beens.
On a bench by the pond one afternoon, Snape sat idly watching the ducks paddling about. These urban fowl were well-fed and plump and he wondered if they'd taste as good as farm-reared. He'd have to devise a way to cook one, naturally, if he could catch one at all. It would be a simple matter with a wand, even with the unregistered spare he carried secretly - though it wasn't attuned to him – but trapping and eating even verminous wild life in the city was something he thought might upset the Muggles.
As focused as he seemed to be on the ducks, Snape was nevertheless routinely keeping an eye on his surroundings. Along with the usual idle youths and lunch time baskers snatching a moment's escape from their jobs, there was a man with a purpose. Snape instinctively froze, then forced himself to assume the appearance of relaxation. The man was hunting, subtly, but the ex-spy could recognise the clues in his posture. Chances were slight that he was the target but Snape mentally readied himself as the man came closer. He was clearly a Muggle, bulky, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and he looked like he'd slept in his clothes. The presence of silvery beard stubble and heavy pouches under his eyes heightened the impression of fatigue, but he moved easily and was alert and watchful.
Snape ostensibly continued to watch the ducks as the Muggle approached and for a moment it looked like he was going to walk right past.
"Sorry to bother you," the voice was deep with a slight rasp. "I was wondering if you'd seen this boy?"
Prepared to dismiss the enquiry Snape deigned to glance down at the glossy – static – photograph.
"I have, yes." He heard himself say.
"Where?" The Muggle was doing a poor job of concealing his eagerness.
"Here. Two days ago; late afternoon."
"Was he alone?"
"No. He was with two boys around his age, and an older man."
"I see. How did he look?"
Snape shrugged.
"Not happy, but not ill at ease, either. He seemed to be as self-centred and moody as any other teenager."
"Did he stay with the group?"
"Yes. The boys threw stones at the ducks for a little while then the man herded them off."
"Which direction?"
"Through the West gate - and none of the ducks were harmed, thank you for your concern."
The Muggle grinned.
"Nature lover, eh?"
"Dumb animals have certain advantages over humans."
A coarse grey eyebrow quirked in amusement.
"Anyway, thanks for your help, mate."
Snape accepted the proffered five-pound note in silence then unaccountably found himself speaking again when the man began to move away.
"I'm not here all the time but I can keep an eye out for him, if you wish."
The Muggle regarded him for a moment then nodded.
"Thanks. I'd appreciate that." He dug out a small rectangle of white card. "Here's my number – if you can find a phone that works." He added ruefully.
He lifted his hand in farewell and had taken two steps away before he turned back again.
"What's your name?"
"Tobias. Tobias Smith."
The Muggle nodded.
"Thank you, Mr Smith. I hope to hear from you soon."
Snape went back to his contemplation of the ducks until the man was well out of sight. Only then did he look at the card:
In his extensive reading over the past few months he'd happened across the term several times but hadn't seen the need for any follow-through research. Snape stood abruptly, feeling more purposeful than he had for days. The closest library would be open for a couple of hours yet…
He was still smugly pleased with himself for figuring out how to work the com-puter catalogues utilized by most of the libraries. It made searching for specific information relatively easy, even if he did take issue with the required spelling of some words before the infernal machine would deign to recognise them. Whoever oversaw the running of these things needed a sharp whack over the head with a copy of 'Dawe's Guide to Goode English'.
After skimming through what little non-fiction was available, and indulging in some rather prurient fiction – of which there was a great deal more - Snape came to the conclusion that someone had likely engaged Mr Trusker's services in tracking down the boy. Fiction notwithstanding 'Private Investigator' seemed to be a tedious sort of job involving lots of observation and trailing around following 'leads'. Having satisfied his curiosity Snape left the library shortly before it closed. It was late but if he hurried he should be able to catch a hot meal and a cup of tea from the do-gooders. If not, well, he had a little money now.
Snape didn't really expect to have anything more to do with Trusker or his quarry but he was drawn back to the park anyway. At any rate the ducks were good company, being especially attentive when he brought food scraps with him. There was no pretence with ducks – if you had something they wanted they came to you, if not, they didn't bother. He liked that about them.
On the afternoon of the second day Snape's half-acknowledged vigilance was rewarded. The boy – in the company of the same man – returned to the park. There was noticeable tension between the two, the man speaking quietly but with apparent force to the sulky child. They walked twice around the pond then made again for the West gate. After a moment's hesitation, Snape followed. He trailed the pair for perhaps a quarter of an a hour through an obviously poor area, ambling close enough to hear the words 'apathetic' and 'ungrateful' rallied against the increasingly sullen boy. They stopped at the gate of a dilapidated council house and as Snape shuffled past he heard the man growl 'don't piss me about, get inside'. The boy huffed irritably but did as he was told. Snape made note of the house number and continued on his way. He fingered the small card in his pocket – he needed to find one of those phone things. A little further on was a row of mean-looking shops and on the pavement in front of them was a phone box. Snape had observed the things being used but had never made the attempt himself. It couldn't be that difficult, surely? He carefully scrutinised instructions that were simplified to the point of idiocy, then withdrew the small handful of coins he'd kept specifically for this task. He lifted the 'handset' to his ear and dropped the requisite coins into the indicated slot. Snape refused to admit his nervousness as he stabbed at the numbers – which were intolerably sticky, did no one clean these things? – and waited to see what would happen. The contraption beeped in his ear then he heard:
"Phillip Trusker."
Snape almost dropped the phone, but gathered himself and spoke in as close to a normal tone as he could manage under the circumstances.
"Tobias Smith. I have an address for you."
There was a pause.
"How did you find it?"
"The man and the boy were in the park again. I followed them when they left."
"Right. Is the boy there now?"
"He was a few minutes ago – but I can't see the house from where I am so I can't be sure he's still there. Do you want this address or not?"
"Please."
Snape relayed the information and was prepared for that to be an end of it.
"Brilliant, thanks, mate. Where are you?" Trusker asked.
"Outside the shops, Northwards down the road. Why?"
"I'm right over the other side of town. Would you mind keeping an eye on the place until I get there, Mr Smith?"
"If you wish."
"'preciate it, thank you. I'll be there in about half an hour…"
Snape was well versed in the art of discreet observation. From his post across the road he could discern movement in the downstairs rooms of the target house but he wasn't close enough to pinpoint activity. Several minutes later a car pulled up in front of the house and a man – not Trusker – got out. He strode up to the door and was greeted briefly by the man who'd accompanied the boy earlier. Something exchanged hands then the second man left. As the car took off down the road Snape made a mental note of the colour and size of the vehicle, plus the general appearance of the driver and the series of numbers and letters on a plate at the rear. Trusker might find the detail useful, he might not, either way Snape was obscurely pleased to have the additional information to offer.
All was quiet and remained so until Trusker arrived. Snape recognised the man's big frame inside the moderately sized car before he got a good look at the face. Trusker didn't stop but cruised along the road like he had every right to be there. He caught Snape's eye as he passed and gave him a small nod. The wizard stayed where he was, watching as the investigator pulled into the kerb several houses along, only moving when he was beckoned with a subtle gesture.
"Anything much happen?" Trusker was adjusting the car's interior mirror – to watch the house, Snape assumed, as he somewhat tentatively slid into the seat beside him.
"Not much. They had a visitor..."
"You kept all that in your head?" Trusker asked when Snape finished relating his observations.
"It was hardly complicated."
Trusker grinned.
"Even so, most people wouldn't have been able to remember that amount of detail without writing it down."
Snape shrugged but didn't answer. He had very definite views on the likely intelligence of 'most people' but it was imprudent to share your prejudices with a stranger.
"Drink?"
Snape took the proffered slim, metal flask and unscrewed the cap. He sniffed at the contents and half-smiled in appreciation as the fumes of a good quality whiskey curled into nostrils. It'd been a while… He took a sip, just a sip, savouring the thick liquid rolling over his tongue before recapping the flask and handing it back.
"Thank you."
"Welcome." Trusker reached into his pocket. "And thank you for your help, Mr Smith." He passed over a handful of notes. "I really do appreciate it."
"Obviously." Snape was wry. Trusker had given him thirty pounds. "If you won't be needing my services any more today I'll move along." It would be a mistake to linger. The desire to be doing something was rising up clear and sharp, as was the insidious, traitorous need for companionship. Snape couldn't afford to let himself be tempted.
"Thank you, Mr Smith, have a good night." Trusker flashed him another grin as he exited the car before returning to his scrutiny of the street via the mirror. Snape thrust his hands in his pockets and slouched away, head down, not bothering to look back, not bothering to deny his loneliness.
It rained heavily for the next few days, the dismal weather a perfect match for Snape's dismal mood. For once there was no solace to be had in the library, either; the material was too petty, too insubstantial to afford any real pleasure and even the best of the newspapers carried nothing but facile trivia concerning things Snape couldn't give a damn about. He was bored, purposeless, and bored with being purposeless. It was almost tempting to go back and take his chances in the Wizarding world. If he was lucky someone would overreact on sighting him and all his problems would be over with a flurry of deadly hexes. But then, knowing how the Fates loved him so, he was more likely to be afflicted with something painful and embarrassing, and then carted off to Azkaban. Snape gritted his teeth and mentally hunkered down to wait out the bad mood…
Pockets full of sandwich scraps he'd carefully scavenged from bins, Snape strode through the park to the pond. The sun had finally returned, and with a touch more strength than previously. Spring was charging forward with gleeful abandon and indications of an early Summer. It might be worthwhile considering leaving the city before the heat struck.
The handful of ducks that'd been idling on the pond were already making straight for him before he took his seat.
"Opportunistic buggers." Snape couldn't help the wry quirk of his lips. "Worse than cats."
It was surprisingly easy to sink into the now of the moment, exchanging food for company – just him and the ducks. A simple undertaking with no undercurrents…
"Nice day, isn't it?"
Snape didn't bother glancing up. He'd noticed the man out of the corner of his eye some minutes ago.
"Trusker." He acknowledged.
"Smith. Mind if I sit?"
Snape shrugged and the private investigator lowered himself to the bench. He leant back, face to the sun with a happy sigh.
"How've you been?"
"Keeping dry."
Trusker chuckled.
"Yes, not the best weather recently." The investigator spoke into the silence a short while later. "The job I was working on has concluded satisfactorily. In case you were wondering."
Snape had wondered but he'd be damned if he'd admit it.
"I'd like to thank you again for your help -"
"No need."
"Are you generally unsociable or is it just me?"
Snape almost smiled at his companion's poorly concealed irritation.
"Don't flatter yourself."
Trusker huffed another laugh.
"Look. Can I do something for you? Do you need anything?"
"Why?" the wizard looked directly at Trusker, not hiding his scepticism.
"I have a sideline in philanthropy?" Trusker offered. The men held each other's gaze for several long challenging moments.
"I'd kill for a decent cup of tea." Snape said at last, turning back to the ducks.
"I know just the place."
The café was unprepossessing on the outside, and not much better at first glance on the inside, but Trusker was greeted like an old friend by the staff and there was nothing unsavoury about the aromas permeating the establishment.
I'm buying." Trusker pushed a menu across the scuffed table to Snape. "Have something to eat if you like."
The choice wasn't extensive but after living on charity food Snape wasn't after something exotic. He ordered bacon and eggs, sausages, fried mushrooms, tomatoes, toast with real butter, and a pot of Earl Grey tea.
Oh…
Real food, real texture, not soggy lumps of suspicious matter floating in watery broth. He opened his eyes to find Trusker grinning at him.
"Good, isn't it?"
"I'm in your debt."
Something subtle shifted in the investigator's posture, putting Snape immediately on his guard.
"Actually, I'd like to offer you a job."
"What? You know nothing about me."
"On the contrary, Smith. For starters I know you don't have a criminal record."
"How, pray?" Snape snapped, feeling at a disadvantage.
"I lifted your fingerprints from the flask and asked a friend to run them through the system. You came up clean. No record."
Snape rifled his memory; he recognised the jargon from his reading into Muggle investigative procedures. Well, of course he wouldn't have a record here.
"Doesn't mean I'm safe to know."
"True," Trusker conceded, "I'm taking the rest on faith," he smiled, though his grey eyes were flinty. "And intuition."
"Intuition!" Snape scoffed.
"Logical deductions, then, if you like, based on observations."
"And what have you observed, Mr Trusker?"
"You're intelligent, educated, motivated and resourceful. You're not an alcoholic, or a junkie and I'd wager that though you're a miserable sod you're probably as sane as I am."
"I'm calling your sanity into question at this point. You're entirely too trusting."
"So you're refusing my offer?"
Snape ground his teeth together. It was absurd, preposterous, far too risky, but…
"What would it entail?"
"More of the same. Observation, tailing, taking details. I can also offer you accommodation. There's a small, separate flat above my office. I stay there sometimes if it's too late to go home."
Snape rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Work, wages, a place to stay… Very tempting, but the fact remained that there were certain aspects of this world he wasn't comfortable confronting.
"I don't know how much help I can be. Will there be much… technology?"
"Technology?"
"Things with buttons." Snape growled. Having to admit to potential short-comings was humiliating. "I come from a… backwards society. I'm not overly familiar with… technology."
Trusker's rough eyebrows rose but he kept control of his obvious curiosity, much to Snape's relief. He expected questions at a later date though, if this insane arrangement went ahead. If he was willing to trust Trusker. His hand strayed almost of its own accord to the pocket of his ragged jacket where his wand was hidden. There was always Legilimency if he wanted to be sure of the man's motivations…
"You're capable of learning, though, aren't you?" the investigator's tone was just short of mocking.
"I suppose I could try." Snape's droll reply was carefully calculated to disguise his growing – undoubtedly stupid – interest in the challenge.
"Excellent." Trusker saluted him with his mug of tea. "I'll show you the flat when we've finished eating…"
The flat was indeed small. Accessed by metal stairs from the rear courtyard of Trusker's office, the dwelling was an afterthought, squashed in between the second storeys of an estate agent and an off-license.
Trusker pushed open the door.
"It's basic, but – "
A waft of cold air washed past Snape's face. He detected a hint of mould but nothing truly malodorous.
"Better than I've been accustomed to lately."
He stepped from the stairs straight into a cramped kitchenette, which incidentally seemed to hold the only window in the place. From the door he could see into a dull, barely furnished room that extended a little way past the kitchen. Snape surmised the presence of a bathroom occupying the hidden corner; it surely wasn't big enough to hold a bedroom.
The flat was shallow, being no more than half a dozen of his long-legged paces in length, a little less in breadth. It obviously didn't take up the length of the building and Snape wondered what was behind the blank end wall.
He prowled around after his host, making his own mental inventory as Trusker pointed out the domicile's 'features'.
"Kitchen. The stove works; 'fridge could probably do with a clean." Two burners; a grill; small oven. Two serviceable saucepans and a frying pan. Coldstore – 'fridge? – definitely needs cleaning.
"Main living room. The sofa folds out into a bed. Spare linen in the chest of drawers there. I wouldn't trust too much weight on the table…" Not much on the bookshelves.
"And through here is the bathroom. Just a shower and a loo."
"How reliable is the hot water?"
Trusker grinned.
"Not bad as long as you don't stay in too long. No washing machine, I'm afraid, you'll need to go to the laundrette further down the street for that. Oh, and there's a couple of towels in the same place as the bed linen." The investigator tilted his head. "So?"
"It'll do." Snape nodded. "Though I must stress again I don't know how much use I'll be."
"I need help. You're suitable. We'll sort something out."
Again there was that slight shift in Trusker's posture. An… embarrassment? Snape suspected he was beginning to get an inkling of the man's true motivations. Too early to judge, though. He didn't believe he was in any danger but neither was he going to let his guard down just yet.
"Well," Trusker consulted his watch. "Day's almost over and I've still got things to do. I'll leave you to get settled in, Smith – if you're willing, that is?"
"I'm willing, for the moment, to accept your hospitality. We shall see about the job situation later."
Trusker chuckled.
"Fair enough. Oh – " he pulled out his wallet and extracted some notes. "Consider this an advance on your wages. There's a supermarket down the road as well."
"Thank you." Snape slid the bills into the back pocket of his tatty black jeans, noting the way Trusker's eyes involuntarily followed the movement. Interesting.
"And here's the key. Right, then. I'll see you tomorrow morning. 8.30 a.m. Goodnight, Smith."
"Goodnight, Trusker."
Snape closed the door behind him, watching from the kitchen window as the man clattered down the stairs.
On further investigation Snape discovered the flat contained only the barest necessities. Along with the saucepans and frying pan there were a handful of mismatched plates and bowls, a couple of cheap glasses and one mug. Cutlery was rudimentary at best and there was nothing edible in the cupboards. There was a tin of baked beans but at three years out of date Snape didn't think that counted as 'edible'. Trusker may sleep here occasionally but it was unlikely he cooked. There wasn't even any tea. The bathroom, likewise, was sparsely equipped; an old bar of soap, a half-used tube of toothpaste and a ratty-headed toothbrush. There were dregs of shampoo in a bottle in the shower, and a dusty roll of loo-paper next to the toilet - and that was all.
Aside from a pokey – empty – cupboard under the hand basin in the bathroom, and the equally pokey cupboards in the kitchen, the only other place for storage was the chest of drawers next to the sofa. The bottom and middle drawers held bed linen and towels, as promised, but the top drawer was empty save for an unopened packet of condoms that looked like they might have outlived their usefulness some time ago. Snape smirked; oh yes, he knew what condoms were for. These had never been breached; did that mean Trusker had never had need of them, or just that he'd never brought anyone here for sex?
Snape locked the door behind him and headed down the stairs. No matter how carefully he moved the metal pinged and groaned with every step. Well, there'd be no sneaking up on him at least.
He found his way through the back lane onto the high street, emerging into the bustle of late-afternoon shoppers. Snape noted the location of the laundrette, a newsagents and bakery. The supermarket was easy to find, being the biggest premises in the row.
He'd never liked electric lights, they made his eyes hurt and – he would swear – caused an irritating buzz at the back of his skull. Snape shopped carefully; his funds were limited and he wasn't counting on Trusker's continued goodwill. A loaf of sliced bread, a bag of apples and some cheese would last him a couple of days and be easy to carry if he had to leave. Moving quickly, because he really didn't want to spend more time under these lights than he could help, Snape also picked up some basic toiletries, his own toothbrush, a new pair of socks, and a packet of teabags that smelt especially nice. There was an array of confectionary displayed next to the checkouts in an attempt to coax last minute purchases. Snape idly picked up a bar of something that purported to have a 'creamy peppermint centre', but the rich scent reminded him too sharply of something Lupin would like so he put it back. There must be no thoughts of his old life intruding if he was seriously going to make an attempt at a new one.
Dinner was cheese sandwiches and fresh apples, and tea brewed from water boiled in a saucepan. The stove's controls had him flummoxed, but only momentarily, and Snape looked forward to toast in the morning. The most rewarding part of the day however, was being able to clean himself in peace and privacy. The room's tiny window was set high in the wall; the residences of the flats and houses on the other side of the alley could not peer in, even if they could distinguish anything much through the murky panes.
Hot water, such a luxury, but so readily taken for granted. Mindful of Trusker's warning not to stay in too long, Snape washed himself and his hair quickly, then simply stood under the flow, luxuriating in the heat until the water began to cool. It felt good to be clean, truly clean, once again. Standing naked in the bathroom, he washed the clothes he'd worn that day in cold water with plain soap then hung them out over the shower-curtain rail. It didn't matter if they hadn't dried by morning, the other set of clothes in his bag were clean enough to be presentable.
The daylight had gone by the time he'd finished his ablutions but Snape resisted switching on any lights just yet. He hadn't bothered getting dressed after his shower - there was also a kind of luxury in being safely naked - but it was a little chilly for comfort. He found and deduced how to use the small heater in the living room, then moving around by the surprisingly soothing light of pseudo-flame, Snape brewed himself another cup of tea while he waited for the room to warm up.
It wasn't late but he was tired... he frowned at the sofa. Trusker had said that it 'folded out into a bed', but how? After some cautious investigations he was pleased to find the transformation was in actuality quite simple. Remove the cushions, tug out the metal frame beneath… instant bed. Snape finished his tea then located all the linen he'd need, including a thin but surprisingly warm blanket. Once all was to his satisfaction he switched off the heater and went to bed.
The mattress was thin, the sheets were cheap and rough, and the cross bars of the frame dug into his hips if he wasn't careful, but this was the first time in months he'd been able to lie down fully. Snape stretched out beneath the blanket and almost smiled.
He was already dressed and had breakfasted long before Trusker knocked on the door.
"All right, Smith? Sleep well?"
"Well enough, thank you."
"Good good. Come downstairs and we'll get started."
Trusker unlocked the rear door of his offices then sprinted down the long, narrow corridor to a small box set half-way up the wall.
"Close the door, Smith; I need to shut off the alarm."
Snape did as requested then sauntered along to join his new employer, noting in passing the three doors in the right hand wall. The first, the closest to the rear entrance, bore small plaques declaring a kitchen and toilet. The middle one was unmarked while the final door carried Trusker's full name. The investigator's private office, apparently.
"Like something to drink before we start?"
"No, thank you." Snape replied. No point dithering; if he was going to be shown to be spectacularly unsuitable for the job better to get it over with early.
Trusker indicated the two chairs at the L-shaped desk in the open reception area. The front window of the business was large but covered with slim, slatted blinds angled against casual glances.
The chair creaked as it took Trusker's weight.
"When you say you're not familiar with technology, what precisely do you mean? Have you used a computer?"
Snape took the other seat, a little perturbed to find it tilted when he shifted his weight.
"I've used the computer catalogue at a library."
"That's it?" Trusker sounded vaguely disbelieving.
"Will that be a problem?"
"Depends on how quickly you can learn." The investigator half-smiled. "But we'll give it a go, eh?" He leant across and pressed a button on a large grey box. The screen in front of Snape snapped into life. "The 'on' button." Trusker informed his pupil with self-deprecating gravitas.
The office computer was, really, just an extension - an expansion - of the library computer. The… functions were more varied but there was a common logic behind all the applications. It was just a matter of knowing how the machines thought, so you could anticipate their actions. With a little time to explore, Snape believed he could come to grips with this particular tool before long. What he found most interesting, however, was the ability of the computer to communicate with other computers in separate locations, even in other countries. He didn't follow a word of Trusker's explanation and imagined that this could be how a Muggle might view magic.
At 9.30 a.m the main door opened and a young woman bustled in. Trusker glanced up.
"That's Jennifer." He said to Snape. "Watch her, she's a cheeky cow."
"Yeah, cheers, Dad." The pointed sarcasm couldn't compete with the woman's smile. She extended her hand to Snape. "Jennifer Trusker. I'm the part-time dog's-body."
"Tobias Smith." Snape shook her hand, lightly.
"Tobias, that's not a name you hear very often. Can I call you Toby?" She laughed at his expression. "Apparently not. That's fine. Mr Smith, then?"
"That would be preferable." She didn't appear to be much older than his seventh year students.
"Get us a coffee, Jen?"
"Let me get my coat off!" she protested, moving to her father's side so she could bend down and kiss his cheek. "Bloody slave-driver."
"Language!"
The smirk she gave Trusker was the image of his own. That alone would have alerted Snape to their relationship to each other.
"Coffee, Mr Smith?" she asked sweetly, her grey eyes wide and ingenuous – the perfect imitation of a well-mannered young woman.
"Yes, thank you. Black, no sugar."
"Coming right up," she swung off down the corridor. "Dad, don't bollocks up the word-processing settings again."
"A little respect, thank you!" Trusker bellowed – but he was grinning.
"Only in front of the clients!" Jen shot back from the kitchen.
Snape half-smirked: cheeky, indeed.
By the time they stopped for lunch it felt as if his brain had been twisted and racked, but, he was also cautiously optimistic. Trusker'd been impressed with how quickly he'd grasped the basics of the office work, going so far to joke about his new employee perhaps not being completely truthful about his lack of experience with computers. Snape had merely lifted an eyebrow and reiterated the investigator's observations about himself: intelligent and motivated.
Trusker shrugged into his coat.
"We're going to the bakery, Jen, want anything?"
"No, thanks, I've brought my lunch." She looked up from her computer. "And only a ham salad roll for you, dad, remember."
"Yeah, yeah." He sighed exaggeratedly and his daughter grinned.
"Enjoy your lunch."
The bakery was warm and very busy. Snape sniffed the humid, fragrant air and fingered the cash in his pocket. Buying your own food, rather than relying on handouts, was empowering.
Customer turnover was quick and they didn't have to wait long to be served.
"We'll eat here, if that's all right." Trusker nodded towards a spindly metal table and chairs in a corner by the window. Snape nodded, glancing down at his companion's purchases – a pie and a creamy confection – and deduced the reason for Trusker not wanting to return to the office just yet.
"Jennifer wouldn't approve?"
The investigator set his food down on the table before perching gingerly on one of the inadequate chairs.
"She's already made me give up smoking. Doesn't want me dropping dead of a heart attack before I see my grandkids." Trusker grumbled. "I liked smoking."
Snape smirked and tucked into his own rich meat pie.
"I don't suppose you've got a license?" Trusker asked, a few mouthfuls later.
"A license for what?"
"Driver's license."
Snape shook his head.
"I haven't, no. And before you ask, I can't drive, either. Will that be a problem?"
Trusker shrugged.
"A small one, perhaps, but that's what taxis are for."
"Do let me know if I'm more trouble than I'm worth." Snape drawled and Trusker laughed.
"Don't worry, I'll let you down easy." He screwed up the paper wrappings of his lunch and sat back with a satisfied grunt. "God, that's so much better than salad."
"A small amount is needful for health, true," Snape agreed, "But in the main I feel it's overrated."
"Spoken like a true Englishman!" Trusker exclaimed with expansive jocularity. "Meat and potatoes is all we need. And beer, of course. Food of the gods. It's what made the Empire great!"
"Don't forget tea." Snape deadpanned.
"And tea, yes, of course." Trusker was grinning. "Speaking of which, I could do with a cuppa." He stood up. "Finished?"
Snape nodded, neatly folding and pocketing his rubbish.
"You've got cream on your face." He tapped his upper lip to demonstrate. "Best not let your daughter see that."
Trusker scrubbed his hand over his mouth.
"Gone?"
Snape eyed him critically.
"All evidence removed."
"Cheers, mate. I love Jen but, damn, she can't 'alf go on sometimes…"
The early part of the afternoon was spent going back over the lessons learnt in the morning, and Snape was given his first mobile phone. Trusker explained its use and that it needed to be kept charged. He handed over a palm-sized but thick book of instructions and told Snape to familiarise himself with the contraption over night. Homework, of a sort – the ex-teacher almost smiled at the irony.
Later in the afternoon Trusker took him out to one of the big shopping centres in the region, the idea being that he had to follow his employer, without being seen himself, and make notes on his behaviour. Snape planned to acquit himself well on this little test. He'd been a spy for two decades, after all, and keeping track of an individual wasn't something new. The sheer number of Muggles ambling around the shops like dim-witted cattle made the task both more of a challenge and yet easier, in that they provided more cover than otherwise. Snape managed to keep Trusker in sight for almost an hour before he lost him in a large department store. Annoyed with himself, Snape debated his options while pretending to examine a shelf of children's shoes. An odd, high-pitched trill sounded from his pocket. After a moment he realised it was his phone.
"Hello?"
"Hah, you're looking a bit lost, mate."
"All right, you win, where are you?"
"Perfume counter, by the entrance. You did well though, didn't think I was going to shake you."
"Natural talent, obviously."
Trusker chuckled.
"That's enough for today, I think. Meet me at the front and we'll get a drink."
The investigator took a leisurely sip of his coffee. His fingers looked too thick to comfortably manage the cup's tiny handle.
"What did you get on me?"
Snape opened his notebook and flicked through the abbreviated notes.
"You visited six different shops – " he listed them, " - before going into the department store, spending the most time in a newsagents. You didn't buy anything, nor did I see you steal. Though that's hardly conclusive. You spoke specifically to one passer-by; it looked like you were asking the time."
Trusker nodded.
"Good. Conclusions? If you didn't know me?"
"As you're wearing a watch I'd be inclined to wonder about asking someone for the time."
"Maybe my watch is broken?"
"Possibly." Snape conceded. "But it's an interesting detail."
Trusker glanced at his watch and smirked.
"Need to change the battery. Anything else?"
Snape frowned.
"This can't be an impartial observation, but, I could see you knew you were being followed."
"Damn," Trusker muttered without rancour, "I thought I was a better actor than that. Perhaps I should send you out after someone who doesn't know they're targeted?"
"That could give a better indication of my skills."
"And you are skilled, Smith." Trusker's half-smile carried a hint of calculation.
"Natural talent, as I said." Snape shrugged.
"Whatever," the investigator grinned. "Definitely useful. Join me for dinner? There's a halfway decent Chinese here."
Snape hesitated; he didn't have a lot of money left. Trusker, though, could apparently discern his thoughts.
"I'll cover it." He winked broadly. "You can shout me a meal when you get your first pay."
"That's acceptable." Snape drained the dregs of his coffee. He stood up, deliberately close, to look down at the shorter man. "I dislike being in anyone's debt."
"Don't we all." Trusker's grin was heartily gruff but spots of colour had appeared on his cheeks and he wouldn't quite meet Snape's eye. The wizard stepped back, noting the tension ebb from Trusker's posture. Keeping his expression neutral he fell into step beside the investigator. He preferred to believe that Trusker was keeping him around purely because he was genuinely useful, but he wasn't naïve, and sex was one way to repay generosity.
The food was acceptable, the company better and Snape felt something close to regret when Trusker signalled the end of the evening by offering him a lift back to the flat. How long had it been since he'd simply been sociable? Well, perhaps not sociable, as such – he hadn't contributed much to the flow of conversation - but content at least to spend time with someone intelligent who didn't grate and wasn't angling for an advantage. There'd always been that undercurrent with Lucius, while with Lupin… Keeping secrets, grabbing what time they could - they hadn't had the leisure to just be with one another.
Trusker pulled the car up in the alley behind his offices.
"Home sweet home. See you tomorrow, Smith."
"Thank you for dinner."
"Pleasure."
Snape couldn't discern the man's expression in the indeterminate glow from the car's controls but there was a sense of something – expectation? – permeating his body language.
"Would you like some tea, Trusker? I don't have any milk."
There was a moment of complete silence, then the investigator shifted in his seat, conspicuously refocusing his attention on the car.
"No milk? I'll pass, then, but thanks. Maybe next time?"
"Certainly. Though you'll have to bring your own milk anyway."
Trusker chuckled.
"I'll remember that. G'night, Smith."
Snape unlatched the gate and let himself into the courtyard where he was dazzled by the bright lights of the automatic security system. Swearing under his breath and shielding his eyes as best he could, he made his way quickly across the small space and up the metal stairs. Trusker had explained the security to him earlier: the lights clicked on when they detected movement while the camera monitoring the rear of the offices continuously recorded what they saw. Snape's lips quirked: there'd be no frolicking naked in the courtyard. Not unless he wanted to give whoever viewed the recording a shock. Or a laugh.
He showered again, luxuriating anew in the hedonistic delights of hot water, then, with nothing much else to do, retrieved the instruction manual and by the light of the heater, set about getting to know his mobile phone.
The next morning he was waiting downstairs, lounging on the bottom step of the stairs when he heard the car pull into the allocated parking in the alley.
"Morning, Smith."
"Morning, Trusker."
"Right, let's get to work…"
The investigator had to be somewhere else that morning so he left Jennifer to show Snape how to work the very new, very expensive digital camera.
"I shouldn't be too long." He said on his way out. "Don't burn the place down."
"Not unless I get a share of the insurance." Jennifer grinned as she waved goodbye. Once Trusker was out of the building, however, she levelled a look at Snape.
"My dad's a big hearted bloke. I'd hate to see him taken advantage of."
Snape quirked an eyebrow. Was the child threatening him?
"Is that a warning?"
"If needs be." Jennifer coloured a little but her gaze didn't waver.
"I have the utmost respect for your father." Snape said softly, meaning every word.
"As long as we understand each other." The girl replied, just as softly. Snape nodded, though to be honest he wasn't quite sure what she was getting at. Was she warning him to keep his distance from Trusker? Or was it something more plebeian – not to rob him blind then disappear?
Jennifer nodded, apparently satisfied, and carried on with her allotted task.
Trusker's daughter liked to chat and she was a mine of information – if you read between the lines, so to speak. Snape wasn't convinced she wasn't deliberately feeding him crumbs about her father and his life but even so it was subtly done and he wondered if Trusker appreciated how perceptive his daughter was, or how much she knew about him.
Jennifer was studying psychology; her older brother was in the military, posted somewhere foreign. The siblings lived with their mother; Trusker and his wife having separated some years ago. Trusker had been in the Police – the Muggle equivalent of Aurors – but had left to start his own investigation agency. Snape knew that much already from his conversations with his employer, but the reason given for the switch in jobs was that he'd needed a change. Jennifer was implying, however, that Trusker had abandoned a job he'd enjoyed and was good at because his wife had complained that his family rarely saw him. Trusker had made the effort to salvage his rocky marriage by changing jobs - except that he stepped sideways into an equally stressful stream of employment with worse hours. The relationship had completely disintegrated soon after, not just because of the conflict of work and home but - and Snape was reading deeply into Jennifer's vague allusions at this point – because Trusker had unresolved issues regarding his attraction to men.
Snape had guessed as much from his own observations. Trusker behaved with the mix of caution and clumsiness that categorised someone worried about making a mistake because they weren't secure within themselves. Snape, however, had had no illusions about himself for many, many years. It would be no wonder, then, if Trusker had unconsciously picked up on that confidence - which was all well and good but it put the quaffle firmly in Snape's hands. Did he want the responsibility? Trusker was no Malfoy but he wasn't unattractive and, if Snape was honest with himself, he was sufficiently lonely that almost any body would do at the moment.
The situation hung for a couple of days more. In reality Snape was too busy absorbing the information and skills being pressed on him to give much thought to anything else, but he would look up from whatever it was he was doing to find Jennifer watching him shrewdly. Particularly if he was talking to her father.
His first bit of real work was every bit as tedious as the impression he'd formed from his research. Trusker set him to watch a house for an entire afternoon, making notes and getting photos of any visitors. By the time the investigator arrived to pick him up Snape was both cranky and tired, and desperate for a piss.
"This is where sitting in a car has its advantages," Trusker noted sagely as Snape pushed past him in the corridor to get to the toilet. "Couple of empty bottles… You're set."
"That's disgusting!" Jennifer wrinkled her nose.
"But expedient." Snape observed as he emerged from the cubicle. "Maybe I should learn to drive?"
"That could be arranged." Trusker smiled, then patted his coat pockets. "Oh, almost forgot. Pay day." He handed Snape an envelope. "You're not officially on the payroll yet so it's cash for the moment."
"Thank you. Cash is convenient. I believe I owe you a meal, Smith. Are you free this evening?"
"I… yes."
"What would you like?" Snape suspected his expression was edging towards predatory. Trusker cleared his throat.
"Curry'd be good."
Snape smirked. Jennifer was watching the exchange with an odd look on her face. She was decidedly uncomfortable, but then how many children would feel at ease while watching a parent, their parent, practically being propositioned in front of them?
"Good. If we're finished for the day…?" Trusker nodded. "I need to shower. Meet you upstairs in an hour?"
"Sure…"
Snape inclined his head to Jennifer.
"Miss Trusker."
"Mr Smith." The girl was sombre. She turned to her father. "I've got an early study period tomorrow."
"No problem, love, come in when you can." Trusker brushed a kiss over her cheek.
"Enjoy your meal." Jennifer grinned though it looked forced.
Precisely one hour later Snape opened the door to a man who'd obviously put a little more effort into his wardrobe than was customary.
"Nice shirt." The pewter grey cloth had a slight sheen, saving it from being drab. It also deepened the colour of Trusker's eyes.
"Thanks." The investigator held out a small carton of milk. "For later. If that offer of tea still stands."
"Likely it will." Snape took the offering. "Unless you piss me off entirely."
A small smile tugged at Trusker's mouth.
"How will I know if I've pissed you off?"
"I'm hardly subtle in my displeasure but here are a couple of clues. First, I won't pay for your meal. Second, you won't get an invitation afterwards."
Trusker placed a broad hand over his heart and affected a sincere expression.
"In that case I promise to be on my best behaviour."
Snape smirked as he plucked his coat from the hook behind the door.
"Shall we go?"
There was an edge of anticipation to the evening that served to sharpen more than just Snape's appetite for food. Trusker was aware of it as well though he didn't really seem to know how to conduct himself. He wavered between outright flirting and a slight coolness of manner when he thought he might have overstepped the mark. Snape found this amusing but was careful not to let it show. He wondered how much of a novice Trusker was to male sex; he was certainly giving a good impression of an artless virgin.
There was a charged silence between them when they made the trip back to the flat. Trusker edged the car into the parking space in the alley then switched off the engine.
"Right, then…" He studied his fingers gripping the steering wheel.
"Tea?"
Trusker was quiet for a moment, then he flashed an apologetic smile at his passenger.
"Perhaps not. It's been a long day."
Snape sighed aloud and shifted to face the investigator.
"I know you're… interested." He spoke frankly. "And I'm guessing you don't have a lot of experience." Trusker scowled and went to speak but Snape overrode him. "I'm not going to ridicule you for that, neither am I going to betray a confidence. What happens between us outside of work hours is private."
Trusker nodded though he continued to stare straight ahead.
"Can we, ah, skip the tea?"
"We can." Snape could hear the rough arousal in his voice and noted with pleasure Trusker's involuntary shiver. "Come with me."
"And you'll make it worth my while?" There was more bravado than sarcasm in the tone. Snape leant forwards fractionally and Trusker tensed.
"Oh yes." He murmured. "I'll make it worth your while."
Trusker followed him up the stairs, close but not touching, waiting a couple of steps behind while Snape opened the door and flicked on the light.
"Sure you don't want that tea?"
"I'm fine."
Trusker was standing awkwardly just inside the kitchen.
"I won't be long. Make yourself at home." Snape ducked into the bathroom, as much to give his guest a moment alone as empty his bladder.
He finished, flushed the loo, washed his hands then stared at his reflection in the poor quality mirror above the basin. What was the attraction? He'd never understood – though he wasn't going to complain.
Snape half expected to find himself alone in the flat but Trusker was still there, waiting with ill-concealed nerves. The investigator cleared his throat.
"I just want you to know, Smith, that I didn't hire you because of… this."
"Good; that would have been insulting." He began transfiguring the sofa into a bed and arched an eyebrow at Trusker's discomfiture. "It will save time later, and anyway I'm too old to be shagging on couches anymore." He ruthlessly suppressed a memory of he and Lupin doing just that. "And take your coat off, for god's sake. At least look like you want to stay for more than a minute."
Trusker snorted a laugh even as he blushed.
"You don't mince words, do you?" His coat was off and laid neatly across the table.
"Never have, never will." Snape smirked, heeling out of his shoes. "Would you be more comfortable with the lights off?" Trusker was fiddling with his tie but hadn't yet removed it.
"Do you mind?" relief flooded the investigator's face.
"No." Snape retrieved a packet of condoms from the bedside cabinet and tossed it on the bed.
"Ah, are those - ?"
"New." As little faith as Snape had in Muggle protective devices he wasn't going to trust any that were past their recommended date of usefulness.
He brushed past Trusker, deliberately close, on his way into the kitchen.
"Good. 'cause the ones that were there – " the light clicked off and Trusker faltered into the abrupt darkness.
Snape had excellent night vision, Trusker did not and he started violently when his host came up quickly and quietly behind him.
"Relax." Snape murmured into his ear.
"Jesus, Smith, you wanna kill me?" He sounded breathless. "A little warning – "
The firm pressure of an unfamiliar hand over his groin brought him up short.
"Stop talking, Trusker." Snape nuzzled his neck. "And trust me." He heard the investigator swallow.
"Permission to be inarticulate?"
"That's acceptable." He squeezed the man's genitals, gently, and was rewarded with an indrawn breath. Snape pressed forwards into the warm, broad body, letting Trusker feel his stirring erection. "What do you want?"
"I want… I want to touch you." Trusker was barely audible.
"Very well then." Snape slid around to stand in front of the investigator. He rested his hands lightly on the man's hips. "Touch me." He ordered in a whisper.
Trusker started at his shoulders, running hands over the lean muscle there before smoothing down his chest, his flanks, his stomach. Snape breathed out, almost a sigh, as the hesitant hands touched his groin. He pushed his hips forward, encouraging a firmer handling.
"I'm not a woman, you don't have to be gentle." Snape could just make out Trusker's face in the small amount of ambient light. There was avidness in his expression, as if finally receiving a treat long denied. "As a guide… You know how you prefer to be touched; I'll probably like it, too."
He sighed again, almost purred, as Trusker accepted his guidance. The press and rub was surer, now, more confident. Delicious. Snape reached up and fumbled with Trusker's tie…
"Oh, blast!" He'd inadvertently tightened it. The investigator chuckled and pulled his hands away.
"Let me."
"I've never been able to get the hang of those things…"
Trusker stripped off the offending band of material and dropped it on the floor.
"Ah, better." Snape made directly for the top button of the pewter shirt. The fastenings parted like water beneath his dextrous fingers and then Trusker was helping, tugging his shirt free of his trousers. The garment joined the tie on the floor and Snape bent down to nuzzle Trusker's neck and shoulder. He took a deep, appreciative snuff of intensifying male scent just barely overlaid with a spicy cologne.
"Are you sniffing me?" Trusker's tone wavered between incredulous and unsure.
"You smell good. Edible." Snape demonstrated with a long lick up the man's neck to his ear, grinning at the stifled moan. He nibbled across Trusker's throat and the investigator dropped his head back, clutching at Snape's shoulders.
"That's…" the incredulity was gone, replaced by lust.
"I know."
"You haven't even got to my prick yet!"
"Stop talking, Trusker." Snape was working on his companion's trousers. The button was a little tight but the zip slid down easily enough. Trusker's fingers clenched spasmodically on his shoulders as Snape dipped in to fondle his balls.
"Good?" he curved his palm around a satisfyingly thick shaft.
"Oh, god…"
"On the bed before you fall down."
"I'm not going to – " Trusker's knees quivered as Snape stroked his penis. "All right, fine, smartarse…" The investigator grumbled but shuffled over to sit heavily on the bed. Snape knelt between his knees, quickly divesting the man of his shoes, socks, trousers and underwear. He slid his hands along Trusker's solid thighs, savouring - anticipating – the strength of the man. He looked up: Trusker was breathing heavily, his eyes wide. Snape smirked.
"Pass me the condoms."
He didn't like using the things - prophylactic spells were more effective and less intrusive - but it was only sensible; he couldn't use magic here and he didn't know Trusker's sexual history. It would be careless and ignominious to contract a sexually transmitted disease.
Trusker tangled his fingers in Snape's hair, vocalising his appreciation with garbled profanities and breathless moans. The wizard was concentrating, breathing through his nose: Trusker wasn't especially long but he was challengingly thick. Snape expected an aching jaw come morning but he was enjoying himself too much at the moment to care.
Trusker's climax was presaged by a particularly rough expletive. Snape held the man's cock in his mouth, feeling the pulse of fluid into the tip of the condom and regretted not being able to taste him.
"Smith… god…" He sounded hoarse.
"Satisfactory?"
Trusker mustered a chuckle.
"Satisfactory."
Snape trailed a brief caress along the investigator's limp penis as he got to his feet. He was uncomfortably hard within the confines of his trousers but he'd always been taught that a guest's needs came before his own. Sometimes, as now, he was even inclined to heed the lesson.
Trusker accepted the glass of water with a small nod and downed it in one go. His eyes had adjusted to the dark and he observed Snape's groin, unsubtly positioned in his line of sight.
"All right there?" He dragged his fingertips down the prominent bulge.
"If you think you're going to leave without returning the favour you're sadly mistaken."
"Wouldn't dream of it, mate."
Trusker's breathing had returned to normal and his hands were steady enough to manage the fastenings on Snape's trousers without help. Snape, in the meantime, had unbuttoned his own shirt far enough to pull it easily over his head. He dropped the garment to one side.
"Nice…" Trusker breathed, reverently stroking the length of Snape's cock. Ego-boosting as it was to have someone admire his penis, Snape was
becoming impatient; he nudged his hips forward. Trusker cleared his throat.
"The thing is, Smith, I've only ever used my hands on another bloke."
The wizard refrained from rolling his eyes.
"Keep your teeth to yourself, stay in rhythm, and suck don't blow. We can move on to more advanced techniques once you've mastered the basics."
"Jesus, you sound like one of my high school teachers." Trusker was hunting for the condoms at that point so he didn't see the look on his companion's face.
"Perhaps I should give lessons?"
The investigator barked a laugh.
"You'd make a fortune; there's loads of people who don't have a clue." That last part was gruff; likely Trusker was thinking of a particular incident. However, he unwrapped and applied a condom expertly enough.
Snape cupped the back of Trusker's skull, stroking his short, silvery hair.
"Shall I lie down?"
"Might be easier."
Snape climbed on to the bed, sliding around behind Trusker to nibble his shoulders before stretching out on his back. He lazily stroked himself while the investigator shifted into position, kneeling at his side. Trusker paused with his face just inches above his target.
"Right. I'm apologising beforehand for any mistakes – "
Snape growled.
"Anybody would think you were stalling."
"Well…" Trusker gave an embarrassed, chuckling cough.
"Just get a move on!"
It may have started clumsily but it wasn't long before Trusker got over his hesitation and began effectively coordinating tongue and teeth. Snape groaned his encouragement: the thin membrane of the condom deadened some of the sensation but there was still the heat of Trusker's mouth to enjoy, especially once decent suction was brought into play. As Snape edged closer to climax he spread his thighs, angling his pelvis upwards.
"Touch me," he gasped, "Behind my scrotum."
Trusker's broad fingers firmly caressed the centre line of his perineum and Snape convulsed with a muffled oath, coming harder than he had for a long time. If there was the slightest hint of anguish that it wasn't Lupin crouched beside him it was swamped by the sheer visceral pleasure of orgasm.
"All right there, Smith?" Trusker's voice swam up out of the pounding in his ears. Snape nodded, forcing a crooked smile.
"Good."
He must've dropped off; the next thing he knew Trusker was peeling the sticky condom away from him.
"Did I wake you? Sorry." A warm cloth washed over his groin.
"Thank you."
"No problem." Trusker threw the cloth haphazardly through the open bathroom door.
"Stay." Snape patted the nearest part of the investigator's body.
"Think I'm going to have to," Trusker said cheerfully through a yawn. "I'm knackered. Not as young as I used to be."
Snape closed his eyes. He felt the blanket settle lightly over his body, felt Trusker shift around beside him, and then there was nothing else but the deep blank of sleep.
He woke first, momentarily surprised to find himself with company. Trusker was sprawled on his back, mouth open and gently snoring. Snape eased out of bed then padded naked into the kitchen to heat water.
The deliberate clattering had done the job and Trusker was awake – though rumpled and bleary – when Snape brought him a mug of tea.
"Cheers…"
"I'm in the shower first."
Trusker snorted.
"I'm hardly going to wrestle you for it."
Snape smirked back over his shoulder as he coaxed the spray to the correct temperature. He'd left the bathroom door open and was fully aware of Trusker's gaze as he thoroughly washed himself, taking extra time and care soaping and rinsing his genitals.
"It's a shame the shower's so small." He commented when he stepped out of the cubicle.
"The one at my place is bigger." Trusker sounded overly casual.
"I suppose your water supply is more reliable, as well?"
"That too."
"Bigger bed? Thicker mattress?"
"Oh yes, positively decadent. In comparison."
"Your place, next time?" Snape could match casual for casual.
"Yeah, if you like." Trusker glanced at his watch and swore. "Shit! It's later than I thought. I'm meeting a client in fifteen minutes!" He scrambled out of bed and began hunting for his clothes. He scowled at his crumpled shirt. "Luckily I keep a change of clothes in the office."
Snape watched, amused, as the investigator practically flung himself into his clothes.
"Gotta go." Trusker swiftly patted himself down, making sure he had everything. He grinned at Snape. "See you downstairs."
Trusker let himself out and hurtled down the stairs. Snape listened to him cursing his keys and the lock, then the rumbling was cut off as the door slammed shut. The wizard remembered the ever-present security cameras and smirked; if Jennifer chanced to review the recordings, seeing her father emerge from the flat early in the morning would give her something to think about…
© 2006 Nov 26th Lutra
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