WARNING: This is a slash story, which means it contains male/male erotic content involving consenting adults. If you're not of legal age or are offended by such material, please go find something else to read.

Title: Chew Toy
Series: Number Three in what might be the Sex Toys series.
By: Darklady
Email: kkreinke@earthlink.net
Rated: PG
Category: Humor
Disclaimer: JKR owns the characters. I own a stuffed toy wolf. (It ain't Remus - but it's cute.)
Note: Another bit for Kae's `plot bunny' challenge. Blame this one on Liz. Her bunny. Her fault.

It was the night of the full moon and a werewolf prowled the halls of Hogwarts.

It was a eleven and a half inch nylon shag plush werewolf. With plastic foam teeth. And a bright red Beanie Weasly tag stitched to it's ear.

Still. The moon-lust was on it - and it had the scent of its prey.

Racing though the stone corridors it followed the mix of marks and memory. Closer and closer it came, long strides narrowing as the wind-whispers grew more certain. Raising his black- vinyl snout higher, the wolf sniffed the still air of the dungeon corridors, desperate to follow the faintest trail.

There.

The wolf slid like shadow though an open door.

There.

Wolf eyes peered into the candle-lit chamber.

There.

There was the one the wolf sought.

Seated comfortably on the emerald brocade of a high-backed library chair, the large book on his lap an assurance that he would not easily run. Legs stretched out, back propped on the tufted velvet pillow.

The soft underbelly vulnerable.

Unaware.

The wolf crouched low, pointed ears raised sharply as it listened for the thumps and clatters that would mark the unhostile but still dangerous giants that patrolled these parts. They were there, but they would not stop him. The beast was cunning.

When the path was clear, it slipped past the oak and iron door, skirted around the carved footing of a walnut armoire, and came to rest in the concealing shadows under a tea cart.

It would be safe here, but... the hunger called.

Gold eyes looked up, reading their prey in the firelight's pageant of dancing light.

Dark hair.

Dark features. Dark not by natural tone, but dark from the shadows etched by the lines of the strong face.

Dark robes. Long, heavy robes that would hinder flight almost as much as the oversized pages.

But! There at the hem where the selvages fell apart?

An edge of pale flesh.

Distant now, but soon it would be his.

His to lick. His to claim.

Only a small edge of paleness now, but once the robes had yielded to teeth and claws? Once wool and linen were alike bypassed? More flesh would be found below. Long legs. Flat hips. And near...? If the plush toy's designers had made it possible the wolf would have drooled. Near was the salt-sweet richness of the part that it truly craved.

A red velvet tongue flicked over the silver tinted muzzle.

With human cunning the werewolf plotted his path. First to the sofa, keeping to the shadows cast by a potted DragonsBane. Stay low to avoid the stingers of the Buzzing Honneywort. Up the lattice of the Huli-Blood Bamboo and from there to the carved top of a crowded bookshelf. Five steps more brought it above its target.

Perfect.

The wolf pounced.

Severus Snape screamed. "Galahad Alembric Snape! What did I tell you about putting back your toys?"

He batted the stuffed wolf away from the now hissing `Serpent of Slytherin' Action Figure it was attempting to molest.

"Enough!" Dark eyes lit briefly on the twelve inch 'action' figure, which was currently proving that description by aiming its miniature wand from a duelists stance on the stack of hardcover books left with it on the chair cushion.

"Down, you silly beast." That was aimed at the wolf.

With careful fingers Snape lifted a glowering vinyl figure that had a remarkable - yet under the circumstances unsurprising - resemblance to himself. Moving aside a stray copy of Early Saxon Potions he set the poppet gently onto the shelf. "There. You should be safe until morning."

After a moments thought, he picked up a copy of Modern Alchemist and set it on the shelf as well. No need to deprive the one who was *clearly* the innocent party in this contremps.

The miniature Snape shook out its meticulous ebony robes, cast its own death-glare down at the still-leaping stuffed wolf , and settled back to its reading.

Snape - the real Snape - permitted himself a thin smile. Such an *admirable* doll. If only all his son's toys would approach their duties so reasonably parenting would be an infinitely easier task.

After all, that was one of the reasons he permitted his son to play with the line of figures the Weasleys had presented for Christmas. They were - at least supposedly - educational. Inspirational. Not to mention that any attempt to banish even one of them would have lead instantly to a battle royale. Slytherins did not start fights without at least *some* prospect of victory.

"As for you!" Snape turned his attention to the shaggy toy wolf.

Held back by the scruff of its neck, the lupine toy risked a low growl. Foolish courage.

A swat with a rolled up Potions Quarterly sent the stuffed wolf whimpering into the corner. "Bad doll!"

Snape strode over to the now-cowering beast. Two long fingers picked the plush toy up by its plumed tail and dropped it into the nearby toy chest. "One more snap - and I'll give you to the real Remus as a chew toy."