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.
~connectedness~
Once professor Granger had recuperated, the pair quietly returned to a similar pattern of existence to that which had been rudely interrupted.
She no longer could drink, however - and the stay in the hospital wing did at least give her a fresh start in that department. Watching her go through medical detox was intense and painful, and he was grateful to see that she was gravely shaken by the whole experience. He wanted her to take it seriously, and fortunately she seemed to take the message to heart.
But she wasted no time fixing to fight someone that she could blame for her misadventures. Typical Gryffindor.
"Damnable sons of bitches," Hermione swore as she gingerly walked down the hall with Severus' arm to lean upon. She was on one of her tirades about the politicians at the ministry who had done her wrong. "Driving me to drink, leading me down a thrice-damned path towards the abyss of insensitivity. They would see me dead if they could, I'm sure."
She looked a little more pale, a little more thin, and a little more tense than usual. But he would see that fixed right up, given a day or so of recuperation outside of Pomfrey's view.
The sunshine of the eleven-o'clock hour made her hair glow despite the fact that it hadn't been washed in a week. Severus did his best to suppress his gaze of admiration.
"They didn't erase you from this world yet," Snape said, tutting sympathetically, trying not to sound like the love-begotten ninny that he was. "Despite their best efforts."
"Indeed," Hermione agreed, "and I suppose I should take this as an opportunity to exact my revenge upon them."
Severus cocked an eyebrow but otherwise remained neutral.
"By living well," Hermione explained, and she growled as his elbow angled a little too forcefully into her side. "Ow. Bloody hell."
"Apologies." He tried to keep his tone breezy and light.
"It's easier said than done, though," Hermione went on with a grimace. "I'm going to have a devil of a time making sense of this mess in my mind. There's a lot of things I would rather not think about. Instead of doing that thankless work, I would prefer to find some other avenue of getting my fix."
"What do you mean?" Severus inquired, his mind wandering to think of one extremely obvious alternative to drinking - but too shy to bring it up directly.
Hermione cast a bitter, gently condescending grin at him. "The function of my depravity, my dear Severus - it was to ease my psychological distress related to my horrible sins of the past." She raised a hand and requested in a silent gesture that they sit. She looked a bit pale and trembly, and Severus was also in urgent need of a sit-down, so he brought them to a convenient stone railing. They leaned against it, Hermione drooping forward like a dehydrated fern and Severus scarcely resting, as tense and rodlike as a pine tree.
"Your supposed sins are not as bad as you imagine them to be," Severus murmured, catching his breath between words. He felt so large and ungainly - especially compared to her. Three of her could fit in his skin should the opportunity arise…
"Well? Does it matter?" Hermione asked, and sighed dramatically. "As I was saying: I * should * simply find satisfaction by living well to spite them. But as it happens, I have not been strong enough to even * imagine * doing so. At least, not until recently."
He was at least a little bit imagining she meant him, and his presence in her life - but he couldn't be sure without clarifying.
"What has changed?" he asked, his tone level and not portraying his swell of deeper emotions.
She looked him in the eye and gave him a crooked smile. That's all the answer she was prepared to give, however - she just made a motion and had them resume their slow path down the hall to her flat.
"I took the liberty of asking the elves to look in on Crooks," Severus acknowledged as Hermione looked at her door with some trepidation - as if she expected her kneazle to launch itself out the door at her like a projectile.
She nodded, and looked thoughtful, though she was not enthusiastic in her thanks. "I appreciate that," she said, as if this was a foregone conclusion that he might do such a thing.
She opened the door with more confidence then, and gasped.
Severus couldn't help but wonder if the elves had failed in their duties - and he peered in the door after her, trying to assess the scene.
She was frowning but all he saw was her space, and Crookshanks sitting by the fireplace licking himself in an impolite fashion. He stole a glance at the interlopers and reluctantly pawed towards his mama.
"It's * clean ,*" Hermione observed, a grimace on her face. She seemed dejected and disappointed, but ushered them both into the flat. She picked Crooks up from where he rubbed against her legs, and then trundled into the sitting area.
She collapsed onto a sofa and seemed grumpy.
"I suppose they took my request as permission to tend to the space as well as the kneazle," Severus observed, and followed her to sit in a squashy armchair.
"Sit with me," Hermione asked, patting the empty cushions next to her. "I want to know what you feel like next to me on my furniture."
Severus snorted, but braved the rise up anyhow and settled where he was told. It was a tight fit, particularly as Hermione didn't budge over or anything to make room for him. Instead, she pressed closer to his body as they sat together.
"You are * luscious ,*" Hermione murmured, and her hand snaked around him to rest on an ample love-handle. "Absolutely delectable. A delicacy of the First order."
"That's a lot of pretty words to describe a fat lump," Severus parried, not used to this ray of sunshine turned in his direction. It warmed him, and he felt that melty-cheese feeling in his upper gut again, and he tried to hide his smile.
"You're right," Hermione answered and chuckled. "You're an incredibly * attractive * fat lump."
The crimson touch to his cheeks was poorly hidden in the mid morning light, and instead he tried to look away. A little bit of joy in his belly inflated and settled in his lower gut, and he felt his stomach muscles relax. Walking sometimes resulted in tending up, in a completely unconscious effort to help him propel more effectively through space and gravity.
"That's an oxymoron," he responded, but her desire was apparent in the way that she fondled his large soft stomach, tucking her hand beneath the fold of his stomach where it touched his thigh.
"What'd you call me?" Hermione bantered, her mood clearly on the upswing. "Why, I never… I ought to punish you for that, Snape. Thirty points from Slytherin for such cheek."
This was absolute paradise. For some reason, it was easier and more pleasurable to take harsh words said in a silly tone than kind words with sincerity. Severus squirmed, feeling as soft and wanting as a doe in heat, and he leaned into her with an assertive shoulder.
"I hope you do punish me," Severus answered, and added with a low bleat, "I fear I've been rather naughty, Professor."
"Naughty? Dear, dear, my dumpling. This will never do." Hermione was licking and nibbling his earlobe, and it sent shivers up and down his spine. "Confess all to your lovely lady, and I shall see what accommodations we can make."
"Ah," Severus responded. He was keenly aware of the sensation of his stomach rising and falling with every breath. "Let me think."
He tried to quiet his overactive imagination and organize his thoughts to his best advantage. It was getting to feel more than a little bit wicked, the fact that he kept dipping into this reserve of sweet nothings and enjoying the golden honey that he drew out. He couldn't help but think of himself as a delightfully round bear supping from a beehive, submitting to temptation over and over again, despite the wise voice in his mind that reminded him of future suffering.
"Take your time," Hermione went on, chuckling below her breath, "though know I cannot in good conscience marry a man who keeps secrets from his mistress."
Mistress . She had her hand well buried beneath his belly, resting atop that particular place in his trousers, and he was unable to hide the shot of electricity that coursed through his body and straight to his member when she said that word.
Oh, Circe above, this woman knew how to tease. His throat was hoarse and dry as he responded, "I aim to do nothing more than please you, my lady."
She grinned at him, and pressed a kiss upon his round cheek.
"That's a good lad," she pronounced, and added with a bit of a sad laugh, "Let's hope I keep myself alive until then, and stay far away from the bottle."
"You have no choice on that last bit," Severus responded, trying not to convey the depth of his concern.
As Crooks walked on the back edge of the sofa, Severus gave the kneazle some well deserved scritches behind the ears. Truth be told - he had been to visit the magical creature more than a few times since Hermione's hospitalization, and now he felt like he and Crooks were contentedly square.
"And why is this?" Hermione asked, her tone sharp and grating - as if she didn't want to live at all.
Bugger it all.
"You must survive," Severus went on, feeling as though he was tempting fate, "if only because I need so much help." He was desperately trying to balance that fine line between sexually provocative conversation and deadly serious communication.
It was just like him, to dance on the edge of the razor blade when he had no reason to do so.
Hermione looked at him with a quizzical single eye.
Severus swallowed, feeling his face heat up further. At once, he felt drawn to tell her one of his most perverted, twisted desires. It was unclear if it was something she'd appreciate - though he was willing to gamble that it was. All evidence seemed to point towards it…
"For instance," Severus drawled, with affected casualness, "with the passing of every year, my gluttony gets the best of me in new and previously unforeseen ways. I need someone who can… assist."
Hermione, dear girl, was at least quick on the uptake. He couldn't read her expression as she filled in the blanks he was unwilling to articulate explicitly. "You need someone to tie up your boots, for example?" she asked, her face neutral at first.
He nodded, and under her scrutiny he felt his face color bright maroon.
Sweet Myrddin Wyllt . Severus finally detected a reaction in her face, and at first he was worried it was a trick of the light. But no, certainty blossomed clearly as her cheeks turned an extremely becoming shade of pink.
Heavens help him - was she * aroused * at the idea of Severus getting larger? Was it possible that his cruel and unusual predilection was compatible with her desires?
Surely he was misinterpreting something. But this shift did embolden him, and as a result, he concentrated on answering the question directly.
"For example," Severus purred lowly. He couldn't help but find himself enormously, pathetically turned on at the idea that he might get even bigger than his current pantagruelian size. "I find a certain satisfaction as I see the evidence of my growth. It… fills me with…" (here he struggled to think of a word) " …delight ."
"Oh, yes, " Hermione gushed, her eyes taking a distant, glazed appearance. "I've been hoping you'd say that."
She quirked a smile at him, and he returned in kind, though only for a moment - he quickly ducked below the cover of his hair.
"Did Weasley enjoy it?" Severus asked, feeling strangely vulnerable and buzzy in the head. "In the same way?"
"No, sadly," Hermione admitted, and sighed. "He loved to indulge my favor. But it was only for that, and the love of eating in general, that he permitted himself to get so round. He hates being larger, hates when the measuring-spell numbers climb, hates how it limits him professionally and otherwise."
"I won't say that I am completely and utterly enamored of it," Severus acknowledged, a rush in his chest as he allowed himself the small admission. "There are moments that I loathe myself beyond words. But when all other things are equal… there's a perverse pleasure I find in it."
"I can tell." Hermione's voice was sweet and comforting, and her eyes were alluring in their come-hither air. "I am so glad you are willing to see that. I know it isn't easy to come to terms with non-normative desires like this."
"Indeed." He reflected for a moment and realized that Hermione was still gazing at him, and he leaned forward to kiss her.
The way she pushed her whole body into his… it knocked any doubts of her truthfulness out of his mind.
She liked him fat… and getting unrepentantly fatter.
What miracle was this, that he'd chanced into this divine connection?