Crossposting from Ao3. Adult SSHG. Fat kink / weight gain elements. Glorification of gluttony. Adult themes including suicidal ideation (no attempts), alcoholism, and super-size Fat with a capital F characters. Striving to be more realistic and nuanced than other fics of its ilk, but still intended to be a Kink Fic. You have been warned. Not intended for readers under age 18.
Hermione came to the hospital on Valentine's day to discover that her man was waiting at the nursing station, and there was a small smile on his face.
"All fixed up?" Hermione asked, feeling a little shy.
He lifted his arm in response, and pulled her into a deep, sweet-smelling embrace.
"As much as I'll ever be," Severus responded, and he kissed the top of her head. It was a comfort to feel him, warm and tender in his woolen winter robes.
"I didn't think you'd be out today," Hermione said, and added, "I had brought you something."
"Of course you did," Severus said, and he reluctantly let go of her to pick up his bag. "I suppose this is an incentive for me to stay out of the hospital - I won't have to accept any more of your infernal gifts."
This made the nearest nurse frown as she overheard him, but Hermione stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the side of the mouth.
"You'll take my infernal gifts and be grateful for them, you scallywag," Hermione chastised, and she grasped his hand. "But I suppose this can wait til after breakfast. Are you hungry?"
"You know me well enough by now that such a question ought to be rhetorical," grumbled Severus, but he was clearly in a good mood. He squeezed her hand and they left the ward together. His fingers played across the inside of her palm as they entered the floo, and she felt her insides melting into a mushy oatmeal.
"To Hogsmeade," Hermione announced, and in a flash they emerged from the public access fireplace at Aberforth's establishment. As usual for the morning, the bar was fairly empty, and their arrival went relatively unnoticed by the few folks hiding shame-facedly in the shadows.
Snape didn't say anything, but pulled Hermione firmly along until they were outside. And even then, he didn't say anything - he just held her hand and tugged her, and she struggled to keep up with his long strides.
They wound through the village, and ended up on a little street that Hermione had never seen before. There were a few simple shops here, and one red-bricked restaurant with chintz lace curtains and a bright red door. Smoke emerged from the chimney, and the warm sweet smells in the air made Hermione's mouth water.
"Ah, yes," Severus said, and then walked slowly towards the door. It jangled open ahead of them, and suddenly they were face-to-face with a distinguished-looking man with an auburn beard and a trim figure, and a flashing smile reminiscent of Gilderoy Lockheart's.
"Why, Severus Snape, as I live and breathe," said Graham Plopp aloud, and he chuckled lowly. "How are you, my good sir?"
"Cold," Snape answered, "Do you mind letting us in?"
"Oh of course," said Plopp, "I was just leaving but I'd love to chat with you a bit if you wouldn't mind."
He squinted a bit performatively, adding, "And who is this lovely young creature you've got on your arm?"
"You know perfectly well," drawled Severus, and he added to Hermione, "While you, darling, need no introduction to any wizarding man with a subscription to the Daily Prophet, this mediocre creature's name is Graham Plopp."
"The first and last heir to the Plopp estate," Graham added sweetly. "Now, would you be so kind as to come in?"
"That was our agenda," Severus responded with an eyeroll.
The man opened the door wider and held it open for them both to enter.
The cafe was small, with only a handful of tables, and a bored-looking redheaded waitress sat reading a magazine at the was a bare establishment, without any form of art or ornamentation other than some fresh flowers and potted plants. One table had the remenants of what must have been Graham's breakfast, but Graham grandly gestured at an accommodating clean table in the darkest corner of the cafe.
As the trio sat, three coffee cups came shooting from the direction of the counter, and an accompanying decanter of coffee poured itself into the cups without any ceremony.
"Your boyfriend certainly has good taste to bring you here, darling," Graham said, and he seated himself on one of the chairs. His position was nearly that of a contortionist, where he posed with one leg folded next to him, and he wrapped his arm around it. "This may look like a dive, but it's one of the finest dining establishments in wizarding Britain."
"I see," Hermione said carefully.
Severus clearly was grumpy about the whole affair, but Hermione also could tell there was something else keen and alight within him - something tense, on alert.
It didn't take much more than that to give her the warning that this man was dangerous. But in her mind she heard Severus clearly enunciate through legilimency: "Stay where I can see you."
She felt her heartbeat quicken, and she looked at him involuntarily. He was stony-faced, a surly frown on his lips, but otherwise he did not seem to be paying attention to her.
"Clearly you have something you want from me," Severus went on, as Graham sipped his coffee. "So out with it, and get on your way."
"Oh come now, you need not be so abrupt with me," Graham said cozily, "I'm an old friend of yours, Severus."
"And today is Valentine's Day," Severus responded shortly. Hermione was surprised to hear him say that - she was so used to Ron forgetting special days, that the day was scarcely remarked upon even in her own mind.
She felt a flutter of desire grow in her as Severus went on, "I have been away from my woman for over a week, and I'm eager to monopolize her time. So: Keep. It. Brief."
"Oh," said Graham, and he seemed put-out. "Fine," he pouted, "But only out of respect to your date, Snape. Clearly you need all the help you can get within the romance department - especially these days."
Hermione felt a knife-stab of anger course through her veins, hot on the heels of her hunger, but she also felt Severus firmly squeeze her hand. And she recognized this as a signal to not say anything in his defense.
"So, my dear, perhaps you need to... ahem... powder your nose or somesuch?" Graham asked, and the slight condescension in his voice was palpable. Clearly the implication was, *so the men can talk.*
"I don't think I need to, actually," Hermione said, bearing in mind Severus' warning. "I'm rather curious about what you're asking, anyhow."
"It... it really doesn't concern you," Graham went on, looking a bit like he'd accidentally found a bit of anchovy in his coffee. "If you wouldn't mind giving us a bit of privacy, my dear..."
"Anything you want to say to me, you can also trust with her," Severus said, and he glanced meaningfully at Hermione for the slightest of moments. "We keep no secrets from each other."
Graham, in exasperation, rolled his eyes and put his casually-poised leg back under the table. "Fine," he said, just short of a spat. "Snape: you didn't respond to the invitation I sent you in December."
"Of course not," Severus responded evenly. "As I told you, I used it for kindling."
"Damn expensive kindling, too," griped Graham, "Now, don't you burn this one."
Then, out of nowhere, Graham manifested an invitation on cream-colored paper, and thrust it at the oblique potions-master.
"You are hereby invited to the Grovner Square Ball to celebrate the first day of spring," Graham said, "And here is the reason why. I have an indelicate proposal for you, and there's a lot of money in it for you if you listen."
Severus sat back and steepled his fingers together.
"I have no need of money," he said slowly. "Why would you come to me?"
Graham laughed. "Oh Severus, you think I didn't do my research before I came to you? Laughable. I know the exact balance of your Gringott's account and the exact nature of your Hogwarts contract. You are basically giving your labor in exchange for room and board. Don't make me have to spell out the sorry state of your financial status in front of your lady friend."
"You obtained that information illegally," Severus said, but there was no bite to the observation. Instead, he was intensely staring at Graham, and Hermione was fascinated by her boyfriend's close attention to the other man.
"And you think that matters to me one whit?" Graham said with a bitter laugh. "Oh please, Severus. I'm a desperate man. Why would I come to you otherwise? I need you."
"For what?" Severus asked, his tone cold.
"For your skills! Your talents!" Graham exclaimed, and he waved his fingers as if he were on stage. "You're the greatest spy in the world, Severus Snape - you outfoxed the greatest foxes in the whole of wizarding history."
"Oh gods," Snape sighed, and he shook his head. "Listen, Graham. That chapter of my life is completely over. Completely. I have no desire for my life to possess anything more dangerous than my cholesterol."
"We both know that's not true," Graham said, and he gazed meaningfully into Snape's eyes. "Come on. You're clearly stagnating without anything to do."
"I think I'm in the best position to assess my own needs," Severus responded with a sinister tone. His eyes were shining and sharp, and Hermione began to wonder exactly how accurate this declaration was.
She knew how much he had pushed himself to prepare for the conference, and that had been such a miserable failure. She wondered if he might need some other kind of distraction to keep himself from perserverating on it. She certainly knew he'd talked endlessly about it while he was in the hospital - his plans for how he would reintroduce himself to the wizarding world through writing a novel, how he'd finally start accepting the interview requests... heck, in one of his odder flights of fancy, while in the hospital, he'd even considered the idea of someone making a movie about his life!
And, well, the more she thought about it, the less these plans sounded right for him. He was a shrinking violet, in truth, though to see him at a podium you wouldn't know it. He achieved this confidence only when he exhaustively prepared, as she had witnessed him do for months prior to the conference. Severus Snape, for all his wit and bon-mots, was not charismatic. He was too bookish and reclusive, and he was more apt to scorn the bright lights of fame and glory than to embrace them. They didn't bring him pleasure the way that giving a comprehensive lecture on an exhaustively prepared topic did. And he was too vulnerable to the fickleness of the public.
No, Severus Snape was not a man to attain the forgiveness of the public that loathed him, Hermione realized. She wished to the deepest depths of her heart that she could believe otherwise... but Severus Snape had too much darkness in him for the general public to love him, or even really respect him at this point. It would take time for him to be accepted, slowly and cautiously - and he would have to win over key figures in the social milieu of wizarding society, one by one.
"Well, let's give Severus a chance to think about it," Hermione said cheerfully. "But you've obviously got to give us more details. Probably in private, I imagine."
Graham shrugged. "This place is one of the most secure places in wizarding Britain, my dear - if you didn't notice the absence of portraits on the walls, and the incredible laxness of the waitress. This is an establishment run by a small collective of pureblood families, pardon the expression, and discretion is highly valued by this collective."
Snape just rolled his eyes. "So give us your details and be off with you," he grumbled.
Graham looked as pleased as a kneazle given a bucket of cream. "So here's your contract," he said cheerfully, and whipped out a parchment and handed it to Severus. "Read it over with your solicitor and then deliver it back, signed."
"And if I have proposed edits, not signed," Severus shot back, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
"Look, I'll even sign a copy that you completely redraft if you so please," Graham said easily. "The fact of the matter is, Snape, I am indeed desperate. So whatever it please you to stipulate, I'll gladly comply."
"So glad to know that I have the imperative, so long as I do this labor that I never wanted," Severus said, and he pocketed the contract smoothly. "But now, Graham, will you leave my lady and I alone for our breakfast?"
"It's getting rather closer to brunch at this point, I'm afraid," Graham said, and he grinned sympathetically. "My most sincere apologies for interrupting your lovely romantic morning, my friends. Ta ta, I'll be off on my way now."
So saying, he rose and sauntered out of the restaurant, leaving nothing behind but the scent of lavender pomade and an uncomfortable chill from outside.
"Good fucking god," Snape grumbled, but then he shook his head to cleanse his emotional palate. "So, vixen - you said you had a present?"
"Oh, erm, yes," Hermione said, and put aside her coffee cup and her complicated thoughts at once. Both could be considered again later. "Here."
From her bag, she withdrew two packages of roughly the same shape.
"It's actually a gift for both of us," Hermione said, and laughed a little to herself. "Somewhat by accident. But it worked out in the end."
Furrowing his brow, Severus simply undid the simple red ribbon, and let it coil neatly on the table. Then he gently unpeeled the contents of the brown paper package.
He chuckled when he saw the contents.
"Oh, Hermione," he said softly, and held up the woolen knitted jumper. "You made me a Weasley sweater."
"It's green," protested Hermione with a giggle. "And sorry, I don't know any other patterns other than the one Molly taught me. But I did figure out how to make it have a high neck," she added, "I thought you might prefer that, generally."
"Generally," agreed Severus, and he ran his elegant long fingers across the fabric. He seemed to contemplate it, and his fingers began to dig into the feel of it, which made Hermione very satisfied.
"It is actually very... pretty," he said at last, "and the texture is... deceptively soft."
"Yeah, that's one improvement I've made on Molly's work," Hermione said sweetly. "I can afford better yarn since I'm not making sweaters for my entire brood."
"How fortunate," Severus said, and he gestured to the other package on the table. "So now, what is this?"
"It's for me," she said, and she undid the bow and paper far less ceremoniously than he had. She revealed a maroon sweater of the same pattern, high neck included, though it looked a little more distressed in terms of its lines. "I tried out my adjustments on this one first, to get the wrinkles out," Hermione said, and grinned, tracing her fingers across the limping patterns. "It isn't too noticeable I think, but I wanted you to have one that wasn't an initial trial."
"Your generosity overwhelms me," Severus murmured, and while the words themselves had a hint of sarcasm about them, the sincerity of his tone completely obliterated this sense. "You are a talented young witch, and I don't deserve you," he said in a low voice, and there was clearly sadness in his words.
"I am, and you do," Hermione said flatly, and she leaned towards him and embraced him round his soft shoulders.
He kissed her cheek, which seemed like his attempt to accept what she was offering him. And to reinforce this, she pressed closer into him, and she relished the sense of calmness they shared. She listened to his breathing, so careful and deliberate, and she exhilarated in the depth of his embrace. He was so warm, and soft, and delicious-smelling, and she loved him so very much.
"I do have something for you," he said softly, as she listened to the resonance of his pulse. "It's at the castle, though."
"Oh," Hermione said, and sighed. "That's nice. You thought ahead.:
"I've been advised never to forget Valentine's day," he responded with a crooked smile. "Lest the wrath of a thousand gorgons come upon me."
To accentuate this, he burrowed his nose deep into her hair, and she giggled as he held her tighter.
"I'm impressed," Hermione added, "I only started on these sweaters this week."
"That's a lot of knitting for a single week, even magically," Severus observed, his voice somewhat muffled by her hair.
"Well, I didn't exactly have a convenient sexual outlet handy," Hermione said with a teasing lilt in her voice. "I had to do *something* to distract myself."
"Ah," Severus said, and left the question unasked - *what about Longbottom* - because the answer would obviously be too painful to discuss at the moment.
"And now, crepes," Severus added quickly, before the pause could get too dark. "I've taken the liberty of ordering ahead, I know you'll enjoy what we receive."
At that moment, he waved his hand, and the waitress (still at the counter, still engrossed in her magazine) simply waved her wand at the shutters that led to the kitchen. Plates of hot, buttery crepes, dazzling with sugar and syrup and fruit and creme fraiche... oh, Hermione nearly swooned at the sight of so many delectable flavors that arrived before them.
"I've been so hungry," Severus growled, diving into the nearest one fiercely. "I swear I've lost nearly a stone since going to that ruddy hospital."
"They do feed you, don't they?" asked Hermione with a giggle, and she began to join his efforts in attacking the sweet pancake.
"Yes, but so little!" grumbled Severus. "They supposedly gave me double rations, but I swear they gave me less than most of the other patients."
"That's upsetting," agreed Hermione, and she laid a hand on Severus' shoulder. "You haven't wasted away that much, though, my dear."
"Only through sheer force of will," Severus remarked, and there was a hint of humor in his voice. "I knew if I wasted away, you would take great delight in throwing me to the curb."
"Oh, shush," Hermione said, feeling like that comment was a little too raw. "I would instead take great delight in feeding you up again, my love. If that's what you wanted."
He cast a sly look at her, and she saw that to some extent, he was testing her. Not in a whimsical, silly way - no, it was the dark, psychologically damaged test of a man who had been betrayed and abandoned a thousand times, and was firmly convinced she was just waiting for an opportunity to be the thousand and first.
She sighed. "Oh, Severus."
And she let her hand drop onto his thigh, and she squeezed it gently, reassuringly.
"You are enough," she said, and she leaned towards him and pressed a kiss against his cheek, which was pregnant with the food he was wolfing down. "You are enough, and you are adequate, and you are a good partner to me, and I love you. Someday I hope you believe it, in your heart of hearts, that I'm not going to pick up and leave on a whim. I want you, with all your flaws and your imperfections and your perfections and strengths. And until the day you believe it, I'm going to just keep telling you this."
Severus was quiet, and stared at his plate as he chewed, not meeting her unshaking gaze. Then, after an effortful swallow, he said, carefully, "I am under the very grave superstition that the moment that I believe it, you'll tell me it was all a great joke at my expense."
Hermione nodded, and she offered her hand to him. He took it, and their fingers twined together.
"You'll just have to learn to trust me when I say, that's not going to happen," she whispered, and with a swift and powerful motion, she leaned forward and pressed a deep kiss into his lips.
He responded softly, tenderly, earnestly, needingly. Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest, and she could tell that he was letting himself be distracted by the physical sensations of their joining. He tasted like chocolate - rich creamy remnants of his last bite of crepe lingered around the base of his gums, and she licked it up eagerly.
Their kisses were profound, and at some point both realized that they were hot and bothered, and Severus' urgent need was making itself known through his trousers, so they quickly made their exit with some take-out boxes and returned back to the castle.