Title: Fly on the Wall
Disclaimer: I own nothing, JKR everything else
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre/s: Parody, Humour, Romance
Warning/s: bit morbid, C/D, voyeurism
Summary: Snape and Lupin have a little voyeur.
Answers the 216th Challenge of the Master and the Wolf Fuh-Q Festival
A/N: OC's POV, 2nd Person
Please, don't get confused. This is only for humorous reasons, makes no sense whatsoever. The OC is the spy and he doesn't have any meaning.
And there you are again. Tiny, black and so obviously no student at Hogwarts. Everything you know you have been taught by your parents, and now you are the perfect little spy. Like the proverbial fly on the wall, you remain unthreatening and unnoticed, leaving you ample opportunity to shamelessly eavesdrop and gather information that might prove useful in the future. You are clever, a creature of the night, adapting to the customs of your newest victim.
Greasy-haired, hook-nosed and foul-mannered (not to forget foul-breathed), Severus Snape was definitely one of the least desirable creatures on this planet – yes, even you are more attractive than Hogwarts' Potions master -, and yet he, Mr. Neither Water nor Shampoo will Touch my Hair, has finally found a partner, a mate, and you? You are still alone, on your own, forced to spy for a bit of voyeuristic pleasure. You feel bereft, insulted and, indeed, even a tiny bit envious.
This werewolf bloke *did* look rather good, after all, and his scent! Oh my. You are enraptured by his earthy smell, telling of physical activity and dirt – your favourite combination.
There is sweat glistering on his neck, and you wish you were the one licking it away.
You wish it were you kissing the werewolf – though the mental image almost makes you laugh out loud -, and making him moan in pleasure.
You wish it were your name the werewolf gasps, finding his release.
You wish it were your body the werewolf sags against.
You wish it were your achievement, bringing that blessed smile to the werewolf's face.
You wish it were you.
But it isn't.
You are bitter, slightly. Nothing will deter you from returning the next day, though.
"Trevor," you hear the untalented, havoc-wreaking dunderhead call as you move into the hallway. For a moment you wonder when you picked up Snape's vocabulary, but as the boy comes nearer, you realise that this isn't important.
"Trevor! Where are you?"
Your eyes grow wide as they stare into a pair of beady orbs, fixing you with an unyielding, hypnotizing gaze.
'I hope he's at least chewed some mint,' you think irrationally as the wide-stretched mouth opens. A sticky tongue shoots out and wraps around your middle. And then your world goes black.
Well, maybe there will be something deterring you from returning the next day, after all.