A Useful Tool (R; Perverus; 394 words)
Sneakoscopes were crude devices with all the sensitivity of a Centaur explaining the stars to a Squib: they painted pictures without illumination. Severus refused to rely upon such devices, no matter how fine the one with which Albus had gifted him; it was better for one to be aware of one's surroundings, better to know one's enemies through senses other than sight.
All the better to illaqueate them with skill rather than an appliance, Severus told himself, noting how the base of his warning device had been moved.
He hadn't moved the Sneakoscope, but there on his desk was an exposed line of dust-free wood showing him that someone had disturbed it. Severus moved the device back into place and turned slowly by degrees to examine his office. Nothing else appeared to be out of place. Nothing appeared to be missing. How had the device come to be moved?
It had most likely been moved by the elbow of someone carelessly fleeing from the filing cabinet by the entrance of his office to his study, and no doubt the fleer was still hiding within.
Trapped, thought Severus, training his wand on the inner door.
The Sneakoscope remained silent, but that didn't mean the intruder wasn't an enemy, did it?
Probably just a Fifth Year come to play a prank. Severus smiled cruelly and flicked his wand at the Sneakoscope, tweaking it to a more useful purpose. In moments, he found himself staring into his sitting room through the device. "Fuck," he murmured, when the scene resolved itself clearly.
Percy Weasley with prick in hand was attempting to auto-fellate himself on the carpet, which he'd apparently strewn with old test papers.
Severus was too shocked by the sight to do anything for a moment, but then he began to wonder if there was a proper term for sexual arousal by handwriting.
Or perhaps it's the parchment he's getting off on, he thought, reaching down to stroke his tumescent prick. Speaking of those, Percy's was lovely. With flexibility like that, it's a wonder he isn't more popular.
Severus sheathed his wand and approached the door. Spycraft called for voyeurism, but sex, at least for him, did not. He couldn't wait to see the look of fear on Percy's face when he was discovered—or to learn how the boy might otherwise inflame his already interested senses.