The Ties That Bind - Snamione, Post War

The Ties That Bind - Chapter 5

[A/N: All right, my friends, the rating has officially gone up. We are VERY sorry that this is technically late. But I think you can tell by the length and the content that it was late for a reason... Warnings that aren't in the official tag list are listed at the bottom of this chapter for those who prefer to be surprised (nothing too out of the ordinary for this pairing). This is our longest chapter to date, by the way. But fear not, we will be back to your regularly scheduled unresolved sexual tension next week! Please let us know what you think??]

CHAPTER V: The Lust That Binds

"The cords of passion and desire weave a binding net around you. Wordly confrontation makes you stiff and inflexible. The trap of duality is tenacious. Bound, rigid, and trapped, you cannot experience liberation." – Laozi

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Severus Snape, 'the unrequited love-struck fool perpetually damned to pining for a ghost' to most of the public – even to some of those that knew him personally – had been in a very, very irascible mood ever since the ceremony. Indeed, on his walk home he'd nearly 'Avada-ed' a poor muggle who'd happened to bend over to tie their laces abruptly, and in so doing, had nearly caused the morose Wizard to stumble and fall.

Then, to make matters even more vexing, he had been forced to take a very arduous amount of time to debate whether or not he should throw himself in front of a double decker. This inner conflict had begun to brew after his beloved teaching cloak had been baptised with a hearty plopping of pigeon shite. And though Severus was no stranger to dramatics – Hades, even melodramatics, to be sure – the said act of suicide due to the inconvenience of having to mutter a cleansing charm, even to him, hardly seemed justified.

Shame, however, for what an inconsequential and frivolous way to go out.

But, the most galling thing about his entire plight was that all of it had been prompted by the fact that since the ceremony, since their kiss – thrice over, might he add – Severus Tobias Snape: Potion Master, Professor, Mentor, Headmaster, the "Greasy Git" – had gotten horny. And was still horny. Incredibly, incontrovertibly, esuriently horny. And it was only by the sheer bloody willpower of a man that had been used, abused, and forced into the realms of becoming a master of self-discipline, that he had triumphed in keeping his bloody erection subdued whilst in public.

And so, as soon as he set foot inside his door, he did what any self-loathing man would do and headed straight for the liquor cabinet in the hopes of quelling his lustful head by keeping Her, the bloody source of his inapposite concupiscence, very, very far away from that of his frontal lobe.

"What a fucking absurd excuse for a union, let alone how any of us wanted to spend our bloody evening..." Severus grumbled to himself as he threw his tainted robes off and pulled the cork out of the firewhiskey bottle with his teeth, spitting it to his left.