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.
~perverse~
They stayed up all night, just kissing and talking and laughing. After a comfortable hour of snogging in the parlor, Hermione suggested they reconvene in the bedroom. It made Severus blush, just the idea of snuggling her where he wanked, but before he knew it that's where they were. The duvet lay discarded at the foot of the bed, since there was enough heat between the two of them for them.
This was a night that Severus desperately hoped would never end. Every time he caught himself drifting, he would volunteer some refreshment in the form of caffeine - chocolate, coffee, tea. Hermione didn't take those, instead preferring splashes from his whiskey decanter. It surprised and rather alarmed him how much she tended to drink, though he kept that opinion to himself. It was probably just nerves.
Either way, their consumption fueled their conversation and carried them to greater confidence with each other.
Severus talked about Lily Evans. Hermione talked about Ron Weasley, with whom she'd only broken up relatively recently once his mother got too naggy about the question of grandchildren. Severus talked about his dream of having a massive private herb and potions ingredient garden, cultivated with his own two hands. Hermione discussed her heartbreak over losing her pet canary in elementary school, before attending Hogwarts. Severus talked about how when he was first teaching, he was scared by how some of his students were just a few years younger than him, and how many times he rehearsed his lessons and lectures aloud in his head before giving them, so that he could refine his speech and not make a mistake that would make him sound like an idiot. Hermione enumerated her fears that she would die alone with only a kneazle for company.
As the morning light began to fade into sunshine, Severus felt his eyelids growing weary with a dismal finality. The woman in his arms... her mumblings were growing fainter and fainter every time he addressed her. Finally, he heard her begin to snore quietly, almost like a kitten purring. It was so sweet, and he could scarcely believe how adorable she was.
He couldn't stop helping himself to the soft, fruitlike flesh that settled around her middle. He touched it, and played with it, and marveled at how lovely it felt and looked on her plump body. She was beautiful in a way he'd never have guessed another human being could be, what with his own sense of self-hatred for his excessive adipose.
The touches he granted himself were energizing and calming in the same instance, and he found himself gently grasping and relaxing both his hands around soft love-handles that encircled her hips. He truly did adore her, and he wondered what he might be getting into if he stayed and just fell asleep here, forfeiting total control over himself and his environment.
It was clear, this girl was actually attracted to him in a way he never could have anticipated. But at the same time, he wondered if it was just some function of her broken self-image. Was the only reason she liked him and his body because she had endured so much heartbreak that she was willing to settle for whatever dastardly ugly motherfucker came into her life? Severus always had imagined himself to not be anything better than the antihero in the story of his life, and the idea that he might actually be *wanted* by someone took a great deal of courage to accept. Courage that he desperately lacked at the present time, but was beginning to want.
He lay there with his eyes closed, breathing in deeply as he tried to stave away sleep. The idea of falling into slumber right then and there, next to this enchantress, was a beguiling thought, but he worried that once she awoke, something would change in her if he was still there. But since these were his rooms, he couldn't very easily leave her as he felt respect demanded. So instead of doing anything, he just tried to memorize every passing second with the painful grief of a faithful priest conscious of every lost soul.
The darkness was heavy and cool, but soon enough there would be full sunshine across them both. Severus generally didn't mind it, since the sunshine was the perfect way to harness his motivation and get out of bed every morning. But he did feel so very tired right now, he wanted to keep the light to a minimum until absolutely necessary.
So, he pulled the curtains closed with his wand, and tried to suck up every ounce of kindly touch he could get from this girl. He couldn't bear to imagine what would happen once the clock struck the time they needed to be up and about.
...
But finally and predictably the day was required to start. Severus shook himself out of bed with painful reluctance, looking at the sleeping woman with extreme fondness as he did so. The girl had a downturned lip that would have made Severus' mother envious, and she had dropped her glasses on the nightstand without even folding them. She was still wearing a thin jersey cotton dress that was grey in color, but it had no sleeves and the hem had crept up her thigh during their cuddles. The way she spilled out of her garment so prettily made him wish he were artistically inclined at all - she seemed a perfect pose for a renaissance painter.
Not wanting to disturb her, he crept into the bathroom and disrobed. He was eager for a shower and freshen up, as he'd felt his breath going sour over the course of the night, and he also felt like he might have something to prove. Under the dim lights of evening, he might have looked acceptable last night despite the unannounced nature of her visit. But morning sunlight would not be so kind to his aging temples and weak, anemic constitution. So he did his best to scrub off the silt of the previous day and make himself at least somewhat presentable.
He still kept his hair long, so he tied it back for once with a velvet ribbon from his black-tie getup. He didn't have nice-looking clothes that were not formal attire, which fact he rarely regretted except for this moment. But the subtle hint of elegance wouldn't go amiss.
The rest of his ensemble was simple dark charcoal linen of his preferred type: suspenders to keep his trousers up his saggy arse, and the same old long tunics he'd always preferred that went almost to his fingertips. He didn't do so many buttons anymore, though; it would have been too embarrassing and time-consuming to put on his clothes with such pudgy fingers. It was the traditional potioneer's garb, though few modern brewers cared to maintain such a strict and constrictive aesthetic these days. Granger certainly didn't, and he knew that she brewed of occasion. He couldn't help but smile at that knowledge: it was one of many private revelations she'd made to him over the course of the evening.
And what an electric evening! Severus felt his heart tingle with excitement and trepidation as he reviewed fragments of their conversation.
I've always fancied men of substance , was one of the things she'd said, running her finger across his lower jaw. Even the memory rushed through his body like a fast-traveling toxin, racing from his spine to the end of every shaking limb. They provide such a… tangible comfort.
I like your hair, she'd also said, playing with loose strands with delicate fingers. I've always been bloody envious of it. I figure you could go straight from sex to teaching without much more than a pass of a comb. He'd blushed at this, wondering how long that particular image had been sitting in her brain.
I really want to take things fast , she'd mentioned later, and it's absolutely murderous that you're making me wait. Keeping that sexy body of yours out of reach.
This was surely impossible. It must be the haze of lust making her conceive of his body as being, in any way, sexy. He didn't even blush at this - to be frank, it confused and enraged him. But he bit his tongue and did his best to pretend he was flattered.
If he was honest, a large part of his hesitation to leap into proto-intercourse and intercourse behaviors with her? It came from these strange feelings. The faster and hotter she wanted him, the more he smelled the scent of a trap. He knew he wasn't attractive. He knew there was something addling her mind, whether its nature was biological or magical. He knew there was some catch, and he'd be damned if he was willing to foolishly throw his good sense away. He'd seen far too many sexually-precocious students hurtle into the unknown, only to end up hurt, washed up, and broken.
He was already broken enough without suffering whatever fate the likes of Hermione Granger had in store for him.
...
Hermione awoke when Severus brought in a tea-tray, clattering and smelling of strong coffee.
"You're up early," she grumbled, her hand smashing around for her glasses on the nightstand.
"You're going to be late if you don't hurry," he responded, sweet but firm. He poured her mug full and stirred in sugar and cream according to her nods. "Now, eat up, and make haste."
"Thanks for being so kind," she said, taking a bracing sip and pressing her hand against her temple. "Are you sure you wouldn't be up for a bit of exercise before greeting our students for the year?"
His smile was immovable but pleasant. "You really don't look up for it, Granger."
" Fine ," she acknowledged with a sulky pout. "I know I look like shit. I feel like shit too. I was hoping for a distraction in the form of some lovely mashing ."
"What a treat," Severus drawled, but he seated himself carefully on the edge of the bed. "in how you describe lovemaking with such poetry."
He nudged a small purple bottle towards her as well. "Also, you'd be wise to try some of that hangover cure."
She laughed at first, but then she winced at the maelstrom in her head. "Fine," she said lowly. "Thanks. That's awfully decent of you. I know they're a pretty penny, for good ones."
"Not if you make them yourself," he assured her, with some pride in his work. "You'll see this brew in Diagon Alley selling for two hundred galleons apiece."
"Good gravy," Hermione chirped, almost spitting it out, "I hope it's mostly markup."
"Almost entirely markup," he agreed, watching her carefully. He still wasn't sure about how or why this girl was even here in his bed, but there was a certain vulnerability she was showing at this moment. Perhaps it was a result of their irresponsible self-disclosures over the previous night. "The materials cost less than seven sickles."
Severus himself felt a need to button himself back up again after spilling his guts for her. Whereas she seemed practically comfortable in front of him, despite her physical dysregulation.
How strange. He continued to wait for the trick.
Hermione seemed unbeguiling, though - she shoved down her beans on toast and coffee, then rustled herself out of bed and padded to the bathroom.
"Oh now this is heavenly," she announced as she looked around at his marble tile and the sturdy Prefect's Bathroom sized bathtub that he'd had to get installed specifically to accommodate his large body.
He was rather glad that, in his optimism, he'd got it so big. Even if this thing with Hermione was some kind of ghastly game, he was hopeful that he would be able to make good use of it before the jig was up.
"One of the very few perks of having thirty years of tenure," he explained, though honestly he'd spent mostly out of pocket for the renovation. Minerva, while willing to make allowances for him, was not sympathetic to his need to replace the old fixture - an old-fashioned high-sided tub that he'd had trouble entering and exiting even for showers.
"I thought my setup was nice," Hermione acknowledged, stripping bare before he could look away. Her breasts were so heavy and sumptuous, it was painful to divert his gaze. He also caught a glimpse of her plump belly, and the way that her wobbly middle shook as she stepped into the tub. "Oh. Aren't you joining me?" She was staring up at him, and she realized that he was already dressed.
"Maybe next time," he assured her, and he settled down on the velvet stool by the unused vanity. "I confess it isn't pleasant to watch me wash my extensive..." He paused, embarrassed. "...surfaces."
"I'd enjoy it, I swear," Hermione said with a smile, and then she ducked her head underneath the fizzing water.
He tried to hold that image in his mind, of this beautiful witch naked underneath the bubbles in his bath. He chastized himself for having let her sleep so long - he would have loved to be in there with her.
Severus glanced up at the clock, willing the time to go in reverse. It wasn't as if he had any significant duties to prepare for, exactly, but then again he wasn't sure that Hermione was as prepared as him.
"Are you sure ?" he heard her echo his thoughts, and he saw her slightly emerging from the bath with a brilliant smile. Her hair dripped down her back, much longer now that it wasn't in tight curls, and splotches of suds clung to her curves. "I could use some assistance with my hair."
He found it incredibly hard to turn down such an invitation, but he also was entirely too uncomfortable with the idea of her seeing his gross body completely bare before her. So he shook his head in the answer of no, and crestfallen ( crestfallen?!) she slipped back into the depths like a mermaid.
As he saw her come up to take a breath again, then dive back underneath the water, he made a split-second decision. With great speed and determination, he ripped off his clothing and slipped into the water before she could come up again for breath.
The water level adjusted according to his mass, of course, which she felt - but not before his most embarrassing parts were thoroughly covered in a thick layer of bubbles.
She leapt out of the water at the motion, and giggled with delight at the sight of him there.
"Don't you dare keep yourself hidden under all those suds," she insisted, approaching with light in her eyes, but he just grinned and sat back, resting his arms on the side of the bath in a bold expression of self-indulgence and self-possessiveness that he really didn't feel.
"I do dare, " he parried, "but only out of a diligent desire to protect your sweet innocence."
She cackled. "Only Severus Snape would think I had innocence. " She kept approaching him, and soon was running two tantalizing fingers up his soft shoulder.
He shied away from her, a disapproving look in his eyes. "I told you," he said firmly, "I'm not something you want to see. I recommend you look at me by reflection only - with a silver shield, like a gorgon."
"Please," she ached, pulling herself close to him. Under the soapy water, her skin felt like silk. He loved and hated the sensation at once. "Let me at least touch ."
"Hmph." While to some extent he hated the very idea, there was a non-zero part of him that was waiting with bated breath for this moment to arrive.
He didn't say anything else, so she looked at him with wide and almost hurt eyes, until he added, "Well, get on with it, then. Feel what you want to feel."
" Everything?" The words curled out of her mouth with tender affection that made him certain this was a trap.
"Damn it all ," he cursed, not meeting her gaze. "If I don't like it, I'll say so."
She looked like a first-year on their first visit to Honeyduke's. "Hooray," she whispered, almost like she was uttering an incantation, and then he began to feel her hands roaming across his fatty pecs. She hoisted them in her hands experimentally, like she was weighing them for science, and she squeezed and twiddled his nipples with her thumbs. A jolt of erotic energy shot through his body at the touch, and Hermione giggled at the sight of his strained face and aching eyes.
Then with one hand continuing to appreciate his upper torso, her other hand began to meander lower. She felt the curvature of each little roll above his stupendous stomach, and then removed both hands to touch that large, extensive bodily structure.
She had one hand on either side of his tum, and she wobbled it with unrepentant enjoyment. Severus felt so aroused he was almost nauseous, and he closed his eyes and began to whimper.
What a strange turn of events, that she should even pretend to appreciate his body in this manner.
With a strike of emotional pain, he raised a hand. His breathing was labored, and his head felt heavy with exhaustion.
"Enough," he pleaded, trying to get a hold of himself. "This is over."
And without another word, he sank beneath the water, trying to regulate his breaths.
When he came up for air, after a good thirty seconds, he realized she was no longer in the bath. She was standing at the linen closet, dripping water and soap across the floor. She looked, for lack of a better word, sad .
"I'm sorry," he said, feeling his throat tighten. "I didn't mean that… that…"
"Whatever," she spat, not looking at him. "I don't care for your excuses. Try not to lead a girl on, would you?"
"It… it's not that?" he sputtered, and he grabbed his own towel from the side of the bath. He waded out of the water carefully, wrapping it around him as he went. "I… just…"
His breathing hitched, and he sank onto the vanity stool, wheezing helplessly.
While this wasn't an altogether frequent occurrence, it was a symptom that the stress of this whole interaction was getting to him on a biological level. He doubled over and tried to count the tiles on the floor to regulate his panic.
This obvious emergency did seem to halt Hermione's mood, and she was at his side in an instant.
"Breathe deeply," she commanded, her voice like honey and cinnamon on toast. "In, two, three. Out, two, three."
The repetition did help mediate his distress, and with a few minutes of concentrated effort, he was feeling better.
"I'm sorry for assuming the worst," Hermione said once Severus was able to look at her again. "It's clear that this is something very… painful for you."
Unable to speak for the moment, Severus nodded, feeling grateful to be understood.
"And scary , too, it seems."
He frowned at the interpretation, casting a withering glance at her, and she laughed aloud.
It took him some moments to be able to eek out, "I just don't know what your game is, Granger."
She appeared stricken and enraged. "What game? "
"Whatever it is you're doing with me," Severus answered, trying to keep his voice neutral and even. "I don't understand what you're on about. Pretending to be attracted to my… form."
"It isn't pretending ," Hermione gasped, sitting down in front of him on the floor. Her towel - which was Severus sized - engulfed her like a cloak, but he saw dark curls peeking from where she didn't quite cover her waist. "Is that what you've been thinking this whole time?"
"I don't have any evidence to the contrary," Severus said tersely, his whole face glaring directly at her.
"But what evidence do you have to the un- contrary?" Hermione responded, her eyes wide and angry. "I've been incredibly clear that I appreciate your body."
" Appreciate , perhaps," Severus growled, "but like ? Enjoy ? Admire? Come now. I am not so naive to fall for this flattery. There must be some reason you're acting demonstrative towards me."
Recognition dawned upon her face at this revelation. "So that's why you didn't come back after the night we spent together before," she registered, and her eyes welled up with wetness not caused by the humidity of the bathroom. " That's why you have been so reluctant with me. I knew you couldn't be telling me the whole truth. You haven't believed me for a second ."
"No, I will give you enough credit," Severus stated coldly. "I did believe you for a second. But I'm not so great a fool as to timidly fall in line with your little expectations so that I can be drawn like a pig to slaughter."
"That's not what's happening , though," Hermione protested, throwing her hands up in the air. This caused her towel's edges to drop and the towel slipped off her body, revealing her podgy midsection. "I… Snape, I don't know how you haven't picked up on this yet, because I thought I was pretty fucking clear… I dig fat men ."
He just quirked an eyebrow at her, trying not to let his eye wander down her voluptuosity. "Explain."
"I… I just always have," Hermione whimpered, sounding very small and vulnerable. She gazed at the ground, not willing to meet his eye. "I like my men large, in every way possible."
Severus refrained from commenting about pricks, despite the obvious hint. It didn't help that, from their groping session last night, Hermione already knew his package was… for lack of a better word, substantial .
"And thanks to me, Ronald Weasley gained a hundred pounds during our relationship," Hermione went on, her mood lightening. "He's frantically at the gym every day trying to work it off. As if that famous Weasley flab is going anywhere." This last pronouncement came with a smirk. "He definitely likes to eat."
The low, dry chuckle Severus gave was genuine.
"And, well, I will confess I had an affair with a very well-endowed coworker of mine, for a short while," Hermione continued, her gaze turning towards the stained-glass bathroom window. "It wasn't long, but suffice it to say, it affirmed what I've always been attracted to: men who are unafraid of being big, and bold, and dangerous."
Dangerous wasn't a word that Severus thought to apply to himself any more. Neither was bold , for that matter. It was odd to join those two adjectives with big , for in his mind big meant liability .
"I think you overestimate how unafraid I am," he said, thoughtful. "I'm notoriously a coward. Always have been, always will be."
"Piss off," Hermione said with a laugh. "You know as well as I do, that's just false self-criticism. You're one of the fucking bravest men in wizarding Britain, and even Harry says so."
This made Severus laugh with conviction. Harry Potter thought him brave ? What on earth had this world come to?
"And he's one of the fucking dumbest men in wizarding Britain," Severus announced, "and you can fucking tell him so."
"I will, and he won't care," Hermione answered with a toothy grin. "Though I'd prefer not to tell him the context of our conversation."
"Whatever," Severus groaned, "if you're as brazen about your preferences as you seem to be today, I'm sure he'll be unsurprised."
The next moment she turned very serious. "No one knows about my preferences in so many words. I'd prefer to keep things that way, if you don't mind."
"Hm," Severus drawled, feeling vicious in a petty way. "So, Granger. You like big men. You like fat men. What do you think of a man like Horace Slughorn, hm?"
Whatever he expected, he did not expect her to duck her head and appear almost bashful .
"If I didn't know his strong preference for boys," she answered, looking cagey as hell . She left the rest of her sentence unfinished, leaving Severus with a strange, hopeful taste in his mouth.
Whatever this girl seemed to claim, she at least was internally consistent. He admired that commitment to the role, and wondered if, perhaps, it wasn't a role at all… but an actual representation of her real self.
Nah, that was unlikely. Who would be interested in a piece of shit like him?
"Fine," Severus answered, and decided it was high time to rise up and get on with his day. "I hear you, Granger. I won't pretend to understand you, but I will take whatever perverse pleasure I can get in this miserable world. But I also maintain my limit: if you want to see more of this… "
(He gestured mournfully at his overstuffed body.)
"...you are going to have to wait until I'm comfortable. No one on this earth yet has witnessed the extent of my gluttony , and if you intend to be the first, you're going to have to be fucking patient. "
This seemed to brighten Hermione's mood substantially. "Fair enough," she purred, and she added with a wink, "also, I thought, last night, you said it was all due to your thyroid."
"That was a large part of the cause," Severus admitted with measure, and added with a sigh, "but another large part was a simple abandonment of self-control."
"And the appetite of a gourmand ," Hermione teased, and he couldn't help but fucking feel like she appreciated that part of him. This judgment was bolstered when she said, "I like a man who has a palate for quality. It's not something I had with Ron."
"Quite frankly," Severus groaned, standing up with careful effort, not meeting her gaze, "There are times I am discriminative, and times where I don't give a shit what I eat. And most of the time, I eat absolute garbage."
"That's just because there's so much of you to fill up," she responded sweetly, her lip curling with apparent affection. "Your poor belly would starve if you didn't use some fillers."
"Now, that's enough," Severus warned sternly, not willing to indulge her silver tongue. "Go and dress, and leave me be. I've got to think about all of this carefully."
"Fine." She pouted, but only slightly - and instead she draped her wet towel on a rack and traipsed off to the bedroom again. Severus remained there, standing very still and contemplating the whole affair with careful scrutiny. Then, with frustration, he dressed for his day once more.