A/N: I'm sorry these late chapters are being so short uu' I thought the Malfoy's sub-plot would inspire me a little but my mind is not helping, I can only think about a future sub-plot I can't say anything about (only the word baby), and I don't know what to make happen in the story NOW. So we'll keep advancing slowly, if you don't mind, because I know that if I stopped writing I would leave this aside, and I don't want to, because you are all so nice and I have so many good, brilliant, ideas for future chapters that I know you'll love (or not). So, just be patient, please... and not very fussy ;) - you'll get it.

ENJOY ^_^

PS. To Gelsey (guest). Thank you for reviewing again ^^ I really appreciate it, and you even go through the other comments on the chapters, which I get means you're really into the story and I love it :D You (and Spirish16) are very right in noticing Minerva is "losing control" of herself not only willingly now, but she's, as you well said, falling too far into the lifestyle, which doesn't necessary be a bad thing, but at the end it will put her in a place where... well, let's not give away spoilers :P About the "young boy" thing from the previous chapter, I agree, I should have made her say something, I'll try to go back to that again in the story.

Anyway, thank you to all the reviewers, and the followers who don't leave comments too ^-^ I finally got a job (not just for the summer, so I'm not just happy, I'm joyful), which means that I'll try to post as many updates as I can before I start the next week, because after that I don't know how much free time I'll have for FanFiction.


MY MASTER

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54

Courgette

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by Saeshmea


Minerva doesn't stop pacing around the room while I'm preparing dinner for tonight: roast beef and ratatouille. She's been calmed for the entire week ever since we spoke on Monday. I knew she wasn't fine after everything that happened in the Malfoy's party, because I still can remember how I felt after the first time I attended.

At first you feel shocked by what is happening around you, then you feel scared that those people might be dangerous, then you feel strange because you begin to feel comfortable around them and then… then there's the enthusiasm about being in a place where you fit, the rush of adrenaline to participate, the arousal, the orgasm… and later, the void, the questions, the regrets.

Minerva didn't seem to regret anything from Sunday night, but she did admit of having felt anger towards me when I'd let Crabbe and Goyle carry her away from me, and I left her alone for a moment, so I apologized, I apologized sincerely for having caused her that harm, for having worried her and having made her feel afraid.

"Please, tell me what I can do to repay you, my love," I told her.

"You don't need to…" she began, but then she thought of something, "well, I did tell Rolanda that you would cook on Friday," she said.

"I'll do it," I replied, "I'll make a great dinner for you; I'll make the perfect dinner for you, my love."

"It won't work," she says while she transfigures the tea table into another chair for the dinner table she has lengthened to have more space for our guests, "one thing is going to Pomona's house and pretending to be a normal couple, and another is... there's just no space," she keeps rambling as I am slicing the veggetables to add to the tomato sauce, with the beef already in the oven, "why did you say it was ok? We can't have people over! We are not a normal couple; this is not even a house..."
"Enough," I say resoundingly, leaving the knife on the counter with a sharp noise that makes Minerva stop and look at me, "I can't cook with you going around the room like this, come here," I command.
"Severus, it's late, it's..."
"Come - here," I repeat slowlier, with a strong but calmed voice, and this time she obeys without hesitation.
She stands in front of me very still, with her hands behind her back and a stern expression, although I can see confusion in her eyes.
"Spread your legs and bend over, hands on the counter," I instruct, and when she's in position, I slowly roll her skirt up and slide her knickers down to her knees.
As I stand up again, I caress her thights with the tips of my fingers and she shivers. When I rest my hands on the cheeks of her perfectly shaped bottom and stroke her muscles, she takes a deep breathe, anticipating what's going to happen.
From the second drawer of the counter, I take the iron spatula, letting her see my election. After the cold square strikes her skin, a sweet moan escapes from her lips. Soon, the shape of the spatula is perfectly bruised in her ass.
"Thank you, Sir," Minerva says when I'm done, and I leave the tool of her punishment back in the drawer, take her by the waist, and raise her up to make her sit on the kitchen counter; her sore ass feeling now the cold marble under her skin.
I grab her knickers, still by her knees, and pull them all the way down so that her legs can be spread completely for her sweet, wet pussy to be exposed to me.
"This dinner will be perfect, my love," I whisper in her ear, as I reach for one of the courgettes I'd cleaned for the ratatouille and tease her with it, "this might not be a house," I say, pushing the large and thick vegetable into her as she lets go a moan, her eyes fixed on mine, "but this is where we live together," I let her own inner muscles push the courgette out and then I press it back in, hearing another delicious moan from her lips, "and we might not be 'normal', but we are a couple and I love you."
"I love you too," she says, panting as I increase the pace of the in and out movements, "Sir," she adds after a long moan, and I kiss her, and she gasps on my mouth, and her legs shake, and her eyes go blind, and she comes all over the counter.
"You're a messy submissive," I joke as I help her down, the courgette all wet and bathed in a pool of her juices.
"Oh, am I? Then you're a sick Master," she replies, as she fixes her skirt down, and I use my right hand to slap her half-cover ass two times for the comment.
"Put your knickers on and finish setting the table," I say, and before following my instructions, she leaves a sweet kiss at the corner of my lips.
As Minerva returns to her work, I return to mine. The roast beef in the oven is almost done, so I continue slicing the veggetables for the ratatouille, leaving some asside for a separate baking sheet where I'll add the large and thick courgette I've fucked Minerva with, as a special dish for my lovely submissive.

The first guest to arrive is Hooch, but before they start any conversation, Sprout and her husband come in, and then Pomfrey, followed by Dumbledore, who almost closes the door on the face of his brother, who arrives with a tall bony witch, carrying a giant handbag and wearing a lime green dress and a hat with some kind of stuffed bird on it.

"Augusta!" Minerva calls her as they hug each other, "I thought you said you wouldn't be coming."

"I could find a babysitter for Neville at the last minute," the woman explains.

"If that was the problem you could have brought him with you," Minerva scolds her, "it would have been no problem, right Albus?"

"Of course not," the headmaster replies as we all walk out from the small office and into the studio, "very soon instead of a school we'll be holding a nursery," he jokes.

"Anyway, Severus, this is Augusta Longbottom, my dearest and oldest friend," Minerva says.

"So good for the rest of us," Hooch lets go, loud enough for Minerva to hear, but she ignored her.

"Augusta, this is Severus," she introduces me, and her friend studies me from head to toes and then fixes her eyes in mine.

"He's a kid," she snaps, and half the room swallows a laugh, only Hooch dares to loudly express how funny she finds the comment, although Mrs. Longbottom didn't intended it to be, "from what you'd told me about him, I expected... I don't know, a man."

"He is a man, Augusta, a fully grown man who I love very much," Minerva makes clear, taking my hand with hers as if to make her words stronger.

"I know that," she replies, "by the way you talked me about him, it was clear that you'd fallen in love with the mysterious man but... he can't be much older than my Frank."

"Two years younger, actually," Minerva points out, and Hooch giggles again.

"Do you love her, young man?" Mrs. Longbottom asks me, and all of a sudden I feel watched by all the eyes in the room, which makes me more nervous than the question itself.

"I do, ma'am, I love Minerva with all my heart," I say, raisin our hands to my lips to leave a kiss on the rear of her palm.

"Very good," she says apparently satisfied with my answer, "but don't call me ma'am again. My name's Augusta."

"Yes, ma'am, I mean, Augusta," and I sight, glad that this conversation is over.

"Shall we all seat at the table already?" Minerva suggests.

"What about Moody?" the younger Dumbledore asks, "shouldn't we wait for him?"

"I don't think he'll come," Minerva says with a sad tone as our guests take their seats, leaving the table ends empty for us.

"He will," I say, knowing I'm the only one who understands her sadness right now, "just give him some time," and we go to the kitchen counter to start serving the plates; first to the ladies, then to the gentlemen, one plate for Auror Moody in case he comes, me, and the first oven sheet of ratatouille is finished.

"What about me?" Minerva complains with a sweet childish tone, and I smirk.

"For you, my love, I have baked a different recipe," I say as I take the second sheet from the oven, "using your courgette," I add, whispering in her ear so only she hears me, and it takes a moment for her to understand, after which she glances at me, probably supressing a bunch of nasty and loud words she'd like to yell at me.

Ignoring that, I serve her plate and walk to the table without waiting for her. Minerva stays in front of the counter for a moment, staring at the plate in her hands, as if trying to spot some difference between that one and the ones of our guests; after being disappointed, she joins us.


"It smells really good," Hans breaks the silent before anyone starts to eat.

"It certainly does," Sprout agrees.

"That's because Minerva hasn't been cooking," Hooch points out with a smirk, "she barely knows how to make a propper breakfast without burning something," she adds, and everybody but my beautiful submissive laugh at the joke, but before she can reply to her firend, there's a knocking at the door.

"That must be Alastor," Augusta says.

Minerva stands up and walks to the office to open the door for Moody. It takes them a couple long minutes to come into the studio, but when they do, he seem calmed and friendly.

"Hello everyone," he says.

"Oh, so I am just anyone, now..."

"No, of course not, Augusta," Moody says, taking the empty chair at her right and next to Minerva, "you know that the two of you will never just be anyone for me," and he kisses his friend's cheek as Minerva brings him his plate, "is that better?"

"Much better, dear," Mrs. Longbottom smiles.

"Shall we eat now, I'm famished," Hooch says at my left.

"Only if Minerva isn't the cook," our later guest jokes.

"Don't worry, I didn't let Mineva's hands go anywhere near the food, right my love?" I say with some irony so everybody gets it as a joke except for her, who blushes and tries to hide by looking down at her plate but that doesn't help much.


Everybody starts eating and complimenting the food, everybody except for Minerva, who I observe from the other end, with a forkfull of vegettebles on her hand she doesn't seem to be able to stop looking at and a sweet pink colour on her cheeks.

"Min, don't you eat?" Moody asks her, having noticed her hesitation, "it really is delicious, come on," and probably pushed by his words and her desire that Alastor enjoys a nice normal dinner with us, Minerva takes the fork to her mouth.

She hesitates for a few seconds before start chewing, the sweet pink of her cheek becoming flushing red in an instant when she does, but once she realizes the taste of her juices is unnoticeable, she relaxes and looks at me. I smile at her and she keeps eating normally, apart from the slight blush that appears in her beautiful cheeks from now and then, the sweet taste of the courgette probably remembering her of our previous games, or maybe the thought of our guests finding out where the courgette she's eating with the rest of her veggetables was only a few minutes ago.
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TO BE CONTINUED...