perverse-idyll (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
perverse-idyll.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2011-02-21 11:49 pm
perverse-idyll.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2011-02-21 11:49 pm
Entry tags:
Mutability by Kelly Chambliss (NC-17)
Fandom: HARRY POTTER
Pairing: Severus Snape/Minerva McGonagall
Length: ~9,900
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellychambliss
Author Website: Kelly's masterlist of fics
Why this must be read:
I adore character studies. Don't get me wrong, I love cleverly plotted fics, too, but a writer who can convey the texture, the taste, the habits, the quality of a character's mind, the beat of his heart, the subtext of his motives, thrills me like nothing else. In "Mutability"kellychambliss folds back the layers, stalks the shadowy truths and mental revisions, the wry, fatalistic undercurrents of Severus Snape's mind during his stint serving two masters at once. He's an isolated character, conscious of the impact of each word, each gesture, assessing the root and result of his least interaction, keeping score, forever performing his life before an audience of fools and charismatic monsters and his own uncharitable eye.
The fic is like an elegant dance conducted in response to Voldemort's demand that Snape seduce McGonagall for the cause—and to the cause (thereby demonstrating V's laughable ignorance of women in general and Minerva in particular). Snape's cerebral choreography and his astute internal rehearsal of factors for and against, the oblique and beautifully precise summary of his history with Minerva and what each past gesture symbolizes—for nothing in Snape's life is only what is, but always a negotiation or sign of something else—is absorbing and haunting. Kelly is astonishing at showing us the inside of Snape's head, which resembles an echoing hallway down which his alert, ravaged, hopeless thoughts pace like prisoners, stopping only briefly to look out at window to the larger world beyond.
This story follows the seduction, which is more mutual than one might at first suppose, a hot-cold, sensuous test of dominance, a brittle passion of burnt edges that could flare at any moment into something consuming. But Snape can't afford to be consumed, just as he can't afford to be softened. His sense of detachment throughout is disturbing, an indictment of the way he's treated as expendable. As the distance inside him grows, it implies that when the time comes for him to fight for his life he will already be too hollow to care. His liaison with sharp-witted, fiery Minerva briefly kindles heat and human need and fierce sexual consummation, but the story leaves us with the question of whether for Snape, in his solitude, this warm-blooded desire comes too little, too late.
~*~
He was starting to feel the fire himself. He took a few more swallows of whisky, yet he knew it wasn't just drink that was giving him visions of how Minerva's hair might look spread across his sheets, or better yet, twisted round his fist. Of how one of those still-nice tits might fit into in his hand, or how good it might feel to pin her beneath him. He could even feel her little cat paws patting his back, see her tail switching, hear her voice purring, "twenty points to Slytherin. . . . . ."
A splash of wetness in his lap pulled him back to wakefulness; he'd nodded off and tipped his whisky onto his crotch.
Severus swore roundly before charming himself dry, but at least the shock had put paid to his burgeoning erection. Far better than having to deal with it himself.
Unlike his ever-horny dorm-mates, Severus had never liked wanking, not even as a teenager; the stickiness and indignity put him off. He took care of his needs when driven to it, and he'd mastered the cleansing charms quickly, but if he was going to have sex, he preferred it to be with an actual person: it seemed cleaner, more the way things were supposed to be.
Which brought him back to Minerva, who was very definitely an actual person. And back to the Dark Lord's ludicrous plan for her. Madness. Even if Severus had wanted to bring her over to Voldemort's side, it was ridiculous to think that Minerva could be sexually and emotionally seduced into betraying a cause she'd worked for nearly all her adult life, a cause to which she had sacrificed friends and family. Far easier just to try to Imperius her.
But of course, Severus wasn't working for Voldemort, which made things easier in some ways. He could simply go to Minerva and explain what the Dark Lord wanted. It wouldn't be the world's easiest conversation, perhaps, but between the two of them, they could come up with ways to plant false sexual memories for Voldemort to read, or use the premise of romance as a ruse to funnel him misleading information.
It was a reasonable plan, but. . .god, what if Minerva, being the damned Gryffindor martyr that she was, insisted on sleeping with him as her contribution to the war effort? Severus could just imagine her stripping nobly off, her face aglow with the glory of being the Heroic Strumpet, or whatever-the-hell word she'd use, whoring herself for the Greater Good. She'd probably even get off on the idea.
The very thought of such a scenario made Severus's whisky-laden stomach roil. No. He was not going to tell Minerva a damned thing about the Dark Lord's orders. If she was going to come to his bed, she wasn't going to do it as part of some perverse grand sacrifice. She was going to do it because she wanted him. Wanted him: the Slytherin. The Greasy Git. The Death Eater.
Mutability
Pairing: Severus Snape/Minerva McGonagall
Length: ~9,900
Author on LJ:
kellychamblissAuthor Website: Kelly's masterlist of fics
Why this must be read:
I adore character studies. Don't get me wrong, I love cleverly plotted fics, too, but a writer who can convey the texture, the taste, the habits, the quality of a character's mind, the beat of his heart, the subtext of his motives, thrills me like nothing else. In "Mutability"
kellychambliss folds back the layers, stalks the shadowy truths and mental revisions, the wry, fatalistic undercurrents of Severus Snape's mind during his stint serving two masters at once. He's an isolated character, conscious of the impact of each word, each gesture, assessing the root and result of his least interaction, keeping score, forever performing his life before an audience of fools and charismatic monsters and his own uncharitable eye.The fic is like an elegant dance conducted in response to Voldemort's demand that Snape seduce McGonagall for the cause—and to the cause (thereby demonstrating V's laughable ignorance of women in general and Minerva in particular). Snape's cerebral choreography and his astute internal rehearsal of factors for and against, the oblique and beautifully precise summary of his history with Minerva and what each past gesture symbolizes—for nothing in Snape's life is only what is, but always a negotiation or sign of something else—is absorbing and haunting. Kelly is astonishing at showing us the inside of Snape's head, which resembles an echoing hallway down which his alert, ravaged, hopeless thoughts pace like prisoners, stopping only briefly to look out at window to the larger world beyond.
This story follows the seduction, which is more mutual than one might at first suppose, a hot-cold, sensuous test of dominance, a brittle passion of burnt edges that could flare at any moment into something consuming. But Snape can't afford to be consumed, just as he can't afford to be softened. His sense of detachment throughout is disturbing, an indictment of the way he's treated as expendable. As the distance inside him grows, it implies that when the time comes for him to fight for his life he will already be too hollow to care. His liaison with sharp-witted, fiery Minerva briefly kindles heat and human need and fierce sexual consummation, but the story leaves us with the question of whether for Snape, in his solitude, this warm-blooded desire comes too little, too late.
He was starting to feel the fire himself. He took a few more swallows of whisky, yet he knew it wasn't just drink that was giving him visions of how Minerva's hair might look spread across his sheets, or better yet, twisted round his fist. Of how one of those still-nice tits might fit into in his hand, or how good it might feel to pin her beneath him. He could even feel her little cat paws patting his back, see her tail switching, hear her voice purring, "twenty points to Slytherin. . . . . ."
A splash of wetness in his lap pulled him back to wakefulness; he'd nodded off and tipped his whisky onto his crotch.
Severus swore roundly before charming himself dry, but at least the shock had put paid to his burgeoning erection. Far better than having to deal with it himself.
Unlike his ever-horny dorm-mates, Severus had never liked wanking, not even as a teenager; the stickiness and indignity put him off. He took care of his needs when driven to it, and he'd mastered the cleansing charms quickly, but if he was going to have sex, he preferred it to be with an actual person: it seemed cleaner, more the way things were supposed to be.
Which brought him back to Minerva, who was very definitely an actual person. And back to the Dark Lord's ludicrous plan for her. Madness. Even if Severus had wanted to bring her over to Voldemort's side, it was ridiculous to think that Minerva could be sexually and emotionally seduced into betraying a cause she'd worked for nearly all her adult life, a cause to which she had sacrificed friends and family. Far easier just to try to Imperius her.
But of course, Severus wasn't working for Voldemort, which made things easier in some ways. He could simply go to Minerva and explain what the Dark Lord wanted. It wouldn't be the world's easiest conversation, perhaps, but between the two of them, they could come up with ways to plant false sexual memories for Voldemort to read, or use the premise of romance as a ruse to funnel him misleading information.
It was a reasonable plan, but. . .god, what if Minerva, being the damned Gryffindor martyr that she was, insisted on sleeping with him as her contribution to the war effort? Severus could just imagine her stripping nobly off, her face aglow with the glory of being the Heroic Strumpet, or whatever-the-hell word she'd use, whoring herself for the Greater Good. She'd probably even get off on the idea.
The very thought of such a scenario made Severus's whisky-laden stomach roil. No. He was not going to tell Minerva a damned thing about the Dark Lord's orders. If she was going to come to his bed, she wasn't going to do it as part of some perverse grand sacrifice. She was going to do it because she wanted him. Wanted him: the Slytherin. The Greasy Git. The Death Eater.
Mutability