deficiency
[1]
"I just…I don't understand," Harry said, his mouth tightening. "Why would you want to sleep with Snape?"
Hermione had expected some opposition to her plan, but this was getting ridiculous, and she was quickly becoming tired. "I'm curious," she answered, exasperated. "I want to know more about this, I never really thought about sex from this kind of research standpoint and he's an easy lab partner. Plus it's fun."
"Shut up," Ron said, looking faintly green. "Never tell me again what it's like to bugger Snape."
She was, in fact, very pleased with Ron's reaction. He had originally thought it was a joke, and then put his fist through a wall when she convinced him otherwise; now, he seemed content to sit back with Harry and try not to retch. Hermione thought he was overreacting—it wasn't as though she had picked Mad-Eye or Dumbledore for her to experiment with.
"I mean, why didn't you just come to one of us?" Harry asked. Of the two of them, Harry was taking it the best, although he looked almost disappointed. "I mean…it's Snape, Hermione. I know things are different now, than when we were kids, but he's still a git. Just for spite."
As Harry was talking, Hermione suddenly remembered a particularly eloquent insult that Snape had tossed at her this morning. She smiled. "Of course he's a git. If he was nice it would be awkward. That's why I didn't want to do this with either of you, don't you see? It would be so…"
"Weird," Ron finished.
"Exactly." Hermione sat back, relieved. "And I wanted us to stay friends, of course."
"So what's the point of all this? Are you two, er, a couple?" Harry asked. There was an odd muscle spasm by his eye.
She made a face. "Of course not. He's not my boyfriend. He's a research partner. Look, I promise it won't be weird if we just ignore it—I just wanted to give you two a heads up, in case something happened."
"Like what?" Ron asked, sounding numb.
"Well, in case you walked in on us," Hermione said brightly. "We'll put up wards of course, but just to be safe."
"Oh Merlin," Harry shuddered, sounding sick. "I'm never going to get that image out of my head."
"Next time, knock," Hermione told him cheerfully, and stood up. "It'll be fine. We'll go to Hogsmeade later and grab a butterbeer, all right? Don't worry about it."
Harry and Ron waited in silence, looking at the walls, trying not to think of their old professor in bed with their best friend. Hermione left with a swish of her skirt and left them alone with their thoughts, which were quite distracting to say the least.
"Why Snape?" Ron finally asked aloud.
"She could have picked someone who's less…" Harry faltered.
"Old?"
"I was thinking mean," Harry pointed out, "but yeah, he's really old, isn't he?"
"How old is he, come to think of it?" Ron shook his head.
"Same age as Remus, isn't he?" Harry said, thinking back to the Pensieve.
A long pause.
"Well, Remus isn't that old."
"Nah, he's thirty-six, I think. Thirty-seven, maybe. Late thirties."
Ron shuddered powerfully. "It's weird."
"Yeah. Yeah, it's definitely weird."
"Pass me the butter, Miss Granger," Snape ordered, not looking up from his book.
"You've got two functioning arms," Hermione murmured, slowly perusing the newspaper.
"In order to reach the plate in question I would have to burrow through the mountain of hair currently blocking my path," Snape said acidly, turning a page. "And seeing as the plate is right next to your elbow, I would also have to topple you aggressively out of your chair."
"You've got a wand," Hermione mentioned idly.
"Which I would prefer not to use."
"It's not my fault if you're too lazy to use your wand," she said, snapping the newspaper.
"If you do not pass me the butter I shall be forced to consume this toast without it, which shall result in a lackluster breakfast," Snape said, not looking up from his book.
"Use jam then, there's plenty of it."
"I despise jam."
"Then skip the toast."
"You could have milked a cow and churned me some butter by this time," Snape retorted.
"And you could have gotten up and walked around the chair," Hermione said sweetly.
The whole breakfast table was watching them, somewhat aghast. After a long moment, Hermione finally passed the butter, and Snape spread it over his toast without a word.
"This is so weird," Ron muttered to Harry.
Snape didn't like stopping and thinking how he got in this position. The position was currently sitting in his armchair, the one he liked best because it was close to the fire and within easy reach of the bookshelf, while Hermione Granger practiced her blowjob technique. It was not the strangest situation he had ever been in (no, he had seen much more bizarre things in his years) but it was definitely in the top five. And possibly the most enjoyable.
He put a steadying hand in her hair. "Slower," he instructed. "Smoother. You're not trying to vacuum for crumbs, Miss Granger."
Obediently, she slackened her breakneck pace and twirled her tongue experimentally. His fingers tightened in her curls and her eyes crinkled in a smirk.
"Loosen your grip, relax," Snape told her, managing not to sound desperate. Those dark chocolate eyes looked up at him, her pretty rosebud lips stretched beautifully around his length, and he held himself at bay while she found a steady rhythm. "Not everything is improved by speed, Miss Granger, remember that," Snape lectured while attempting not to roll his eyes back in his head.
That wickedly talented tongue flicked once, twice, and he lost his head for a moment. So to speak.
When he came back down to earth, he realized she was straddling his lap and nibbling his ear. "That was fun," she cooed, linking her arms around his neck. "And much less disgusting than I imagined."
"Oral sex is an art, Miss Granger," he managed. Merlin, but he was drowsy. "And often hideously inaccurately portrayed in literature."
"I know," she said, her brow furrowing, "I always read about women sucking off eleven or twelve inches no problem, but they must have throats like canyons because I can't swallow half of yours. And you're nowhere near eleven inches, more like eight."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"I find it ironic that a few days ago you were reprimanding me for writing 'cock', which was apparently vulgar to you."
She colored deeply. "This is different."
"How so?"
"It's all about the intention. I was relaying information, you were just being crude."
"Ah, I see. Well, perhaps this information shall be useful to you: I am rapidly losing all feeling in my legs, and since you are not a child and I am not Saint Nicholas, it would be best if you removed yourself from my lap."
Hermione got off and straightened her skirt, checking to see if her blouse buttons were done up correctly. "You would make a terrible Saint Nicholas," she noted. "You'd give all the children coal or potion sets."
"All children are worthless blubbering brats."
"You were a child once," Hermione laughed.
"No, I never was," Snape muttered somewhat bitterly.
Impulsively, Hermione kissed his cheek on the way out the door.
Harry stood outside the Three Broomsticks, blowing into his hands to keep them warm. Snow was beginning to come down, and his breath exploded out of him in big icy plumes. Even though Christmas had come and gone, people were still in the holiday spirit and were still wishing each other a good night and a happy new year.
It would be New Year's Day the day after tomorrow. Whenever a new year dawned it always gave Harry a queer feeling, as though time were rushing him along. Even with the War over and done with, nothing quite felt the same. He missed Hogwarts and even the Dursley's, whom he hadn't seen since two Christmas's ago.
Perhaps he just missed Ginny. They had dated steadily for three years, until Ginny set her sights on the Head Auror position in the Ministry. It was odd, seeing the blushing, squeaking girl he once knew, now apprehending criminals and performing complex magic. They wanted different things from life, and as they grew up, it didn't last.
Things were just different.
He saw Hermione come around the corner, her cheeks pink from the cold, wearing a dull green scarf that seemed familiar; he realized with a jolt that it was an old one of Snape's. The image of a grudging Professor Snape wrapping it around her neck popped into his head, and he frowned.
God, that thought was strange. Snape, as far as Harry was concerned, was an asexual being—the way all old teachers are. But he was intellectually Hermione's match, and he supposed they suited each other well. It was still weird to think of them together. Walking in on them had been a nasty shock, to say the least.
"Waiting for your date, Potter?"
Harry turned around and saw someone he never thought he would see again, standing in the snow: Draco Malfoy.
Emotions stirred in his chest and he was seized with the sudden urge to punch him. Malfoy had a very punchable face.
"What are you doing here," Harry growled.
"Enjoying the Christmas sights," Malfoy answered, looking up at the snow. "I'm surprised to see you around these parts, don't you have criminals to throw in Azkaban?"
"Criminals like your father, maybe," Harry shot back.
Malfoy sneered. "My father was acquitted."
"And disgraced."
"Well, we can't all be saviors of the universe, can we, Potter? Some of us have the play the villains." Malfoy said, his face tight.
"Harry! Where's—oh." Hermione stopped short and glared at Draco, her mouth tightening. "Malfoy. How nice to see you again."
"Thank you, Granger. I was just trying to wring a polite 'hello' out of Potter, but it's like trying to get blood from a stone. Or a Galleon from a Weasley, I suppose."
Hermione scowled at him, and exchanged a glance with Harry. Telepathically they beamed death threats at Malfoy's head.
"Don't you have better places to be?" Hermione asked brusquely. "Rather than mooning around an old school hangout?"
"I actually do—I'm meeting a journalist for an exclusive interview," Malfoy seemed delighted for the opportunity to boast. He straightened his lapels. "Potter, do be sure to stop by my office. I was just hired as an intern for the Minister, so you might be seeing me around the place."
Harry's jaw dropped. "What?" he thundered.
"Oh, didn't you know? Yes, I'm Kinglsey's errand boy. It's a stepping stone, but I'm in direct contact with all the Aurors. Which means I'll be working with Ginny Weasley, I heard she was back on the market?"
Harry's back molars ground together. "Stay away from Ginny, Malfoy, I'm warning you."
"The blood-traitor still a touchy subject? I wouldn't want to risk the wrath of the Great and Powerful Potter." Malfoy said, backing up with his hands in his pockets. That infuriating grin was still on his face. "See you around, Potter!"
"He's a bastard," Hermione mentioned
"Yeah," Harry grumbled, watching the sleek blonde head of Malfoy disappear in the crowd. "Yeah, he is."
Literally my skype chat last night with my friend went like this:
Friend: so how's your fic coming
Me: finished!
Friend: WOW that's awesome! congrats!
Me: thanks, I'm thinking of writing a sequel
Me: where snape and Hermione have loads of kinky sex
Me: harry and Malfoy hump each other in hallways like horny rabbits
Friend: and argue like old women
Me: and ron gets hit on by luna lovegood
Me: oh they all bicker like old married couples
Friend: we should have written Harry Potter
Me: there'd be gei wizard buttsecks everywhere
Friend: the world does not have enough gay wizard buttsecks
On that note, please enjoy! Also, if you haven't read Perfection yet I strongly suggest going back and reading it, otherwise the mystery of how Snape and Hemione banged will be left unsolved. -nylex