Also, there are more lemons, naturally.
Day 12
Hermione stretched on her lawn chair and adjusted her floppy hat. The weather was absolutely glorious- warm and breezy, the sky filled with cotton white clouds. She'd had half a mind to knock on Snape's door that morning and invite him out, but decided against it at the last moment. Wasn't as though he would agree to it- she hadn't even seen the back of him since the night of 'the sex,' as she'd been referring to it in her head. Besides, when she approached his door, she'd heard him pacing and muttering to himself in what sounded like growls. It certainly didn't sound like he'd be much for company, anyway.
So it was quite the surprise when she head footsteps fall just behind her. "Ms. Granger."
"Oh!" she said, thanking the Gods she hadn't shed her suit top yet. "Good afternoon, Mr. Snape."
"Yes." His face was grim as he wrung his hands.
Hermione frowned. "Are you alright?"
"Yes. I just, I came by to… ah… apologize for my behavior the other night."
Snape apologizing? To her? She thought blibbering humdingers would fly first! She hid her shock with a smile, however. "Well, don't worry about it." She waved her hand. "I apologize, as well."
"Why?" His voice was raspy and he cleared it. "Why are you apologizing?"
Hermione smiled and shrugged. "I was terrible at 'the sex.' Obviously." She grinned at him, to keep it all lighthearted, but he just frowned deeper. Which sent her babbling. "I mean, Ron always told me I was the worst in bed, and I just thought he was being a jerk, but I guess he... Anyway, I should've spared you that night. So that's why I'm sorry."
His face still resembled one he'd make if he'd been forced to eat a rotted lemon. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Ms. Granger. Except, perhaps, for marrying the dunderhead in the first place."
Hermione laughed. "Ah, too true. But I did get Rose and Hugo out of him. So it certainly wasn't a bad deal at all, in the end."
"What's it like, to be a mother?" The question came out so fast and uncertain, Hermione blinked a few times to make sure she'd heard it right.
"Wow." She leaned back, pulling her hat off. "I feel I've been one for so long now, but…" She looked right into his black eyes. "It wasn't as though before motherhood, life had no meaning. But afterward, I realized I'd given up a piece of me, of my heart, you know? They each have my heart."
"It sounds as though you're now terribly vulnerable, Ms. Granger."
Hermione laughed again. "Oh, that's exactly it. I'm more vulnerable. Which means I get hurt more easily, but it also means I experience love more deeply. Not to say that doesn't happen to folks without children, but that's how the experience worked out for me."
When she glanced over, Snape was, once again, looking at her with an intense curiosity. "You really are… older… aren't you?"
Hermione snorted. "Well, according to you, I look nearly fifty."
"Thirty."
Hermione tilted her head.
"When you're not indisposed. You look approximately thirty."
Hermione grinned. "Mr. Snape! Was that an actual compliment?"
He snorted. "Hardly. You are thirty five. It's not as though I said you looked like a teenager."
She laughed. "Well, thank you, anyway."
He gave a curt nod and turned, disappearing through the yard and in the house before she could say anything more.
Day 14
Hermione sighed. Snape's leaving tomorrow, something inside of her said. "Don't remind me," she muttered, slipping down deeper into the covers.
She'd spent the last two days just talking with the man. They'd discussed wizarding philosophical theory. He'd gone over her potions notebook, giving her advice on some of her remedies. She'd updated him on wizarding gossip, and even though he'd said he had no use for such drivel, he'd sat down with the coffee she'd made him and listened with rapt interest. She told him about Rose and Hugo. He told her about considering a return to Hogwarts.
And, last night, when she'd left him to go upstairs, she placed a warm kiss on his cheek. A kiss that made his ears turn scarlet.
I'm just desperate, she thought. Lonely and desperate.
She was still chastising herself for said desperation when a small scroll, no wider than half the width of her pinky, floated in front of her and spun. She furrowed her brow and the parchment dove, landing in her hand.
"What in the-" She unrolled it and found the spidery scrawl of Snape's handwriting.
Ms. Granger,
I would be pleased to thank you for your hospitality by arranging dinner tonight.
If you accept, please let me know before mid-afternoon.
S.S.
Hermione smiled as the letters dissolved. She grabbed a quill.
Mr. Snape,
It would bring me no better pleasure than to accept your invitation.
-H
As she stood in front of her closet, deciding what to wear for the day, the scroll returned.
Ms. Granger,
Very well. Please allow me some privacy downstairs starting at 6:00 while I
prepare. Dinner will be served at 7:00 sharp.
S.S.
P.S. Certainly "no better pleasure" is a hyperbole. If not, I find it prudent that we amend your expectations with regards to "pleasure" tonight.
Hermione blinked. Was Snape… was he actually flirting with her? It was hard to tell on paper, but it almost seemed like… oh, hell. Stop being so desperate! She watched as the note dissolved into disappearing glitter, likely charmed to do so at the end of the correspondence.
In the afternoon, Hermione invited Snape to join her in the garden, but he'd declined, instead camping in her library with a pile of books.
"Are those cookbooks?" Hermione asked, looking right at his Adam's apple.
"Eyes up here, Ms. Granger."
Hermione nearly gasped as she jerked her face up to a smug-looking Snape. "What?" she asked, going for innocence. She was looking at his neck for God's sake. It wasn't like he'd caught her ogling his crotch.
"Is there anything else you need?" He sounded a bit impatient, but again, his eyes sparkled.
"No, just, ah. If you need anything, let me know."
He nodded and she made her way outside.
x
Hermione sighed as she stepped in the shower, her stomach doing strange things as she imagined what, exactly, Snape was up to downstairs.
"Don't be an idiot," she moaned to herself. But then she had a vivid flash of the man's cock, and, well, she had to turn the shower off quickly, lest she touch herself right then and there, cliched and undersexed housewife that she was turning out to be.
Hermione chose a lilac sundress for dinner. A hint of cleavage here, bare shoulders, a soft, flowy skirt. Nothing that indicated that Snape's cock had been on her mind for the last… oh, hell, last bloody two weeks. No use in lying to herself at this point.
She dabbed vanilla amber on her wrists and neck. May as well smell nice, especially if one is going to be eating dinner with a master potioneer, no?
She walked downstairs, her stomach fluttering with the wings of a hundred butterflies and… hmm. She stepped into the kitchen, then dining room. The man was nowhere to be found. It smelled incredible, though, but there was nothing on the stovetop, nor in the oven, nor-
A sharp tap sounded from the front of the house. Hermione ran over and saw Snape just outside, on the front porch. "What on earth…" She slipped on some sandals and walked out and… gasped.
Surrounded by floating tealight candles, she and Snape stood, a little table between them. There, roast chicken covered in lemon slices, parmesan-smashed brussels sprouts, roast honey garlic carrots, and a loaf of bread curiously in the exact shape of her bread maker. Snape pulled out a chair. "Good evening, Ms. Granger," he said, his voice reaching right into the depths of her knickers already.
"Thank you, Mr. Snape," Hermione said, hoping her blush wasn't too obvious.
He served her a plate as she sat in silence, willing her brain to think of something intelligent, smart, and, gods, just normal, to say…
"Wine?"
"Oh, God, yes." She downed nearly half the glass before he was finished pouring it. "Sorry. I'm just thirsty."
Snape simply raised an eyebrow as he re-filled her glass.
Thanks to the wine, Hermione felt a great deal more relaxed as she enjoyed her meal. Snape was an absolute phenomenal cook- she'd known that from eating his eggs benedict after her migraine, but this meal confirmed it.
"I can't believe how perfect these brussels sprouts are," Hermione said, moaning as she popped another in her mouth. "I don't even like brussels sprouts, but these may well be the best damn things I've ever eaten."
Snape's eyes smiled. "I am glad to hear it." There was a couple beats of silence, and then Snape cleared his throat. "I noticed you wore more appropriate clothing whilst gardening today."
Hermione nodded. Right, she'd decided to not go for the desperate look on his last day. Looking down, she shrugged. "I've been getting a bit too much sun lately is all, so, long sleeves and pants today."
"Pity," he responded.
Hermione glanced up quickly. He was slicing his carrots into itty bitty pieces, but… there! The slightest of half smiles, making him look so mischievous and handsome and… gods. Sexy.
Just because he may have flirted just now doesn't mean you can hop in his lap, she reminded herself. And she changed the subject rather quickly, and the rest of dinner conversation was quite pleasant (if a bit dull).
"Allow me," Snape said, when Hermione grabbed the empty plates. He waved off her protests and disappeared into the house, all dinnerware floating behind him.
She sighed and leaned against the wall of the front porch, now covered in thornless blackberry brambles. Picking a couple plump berries, she popped them in her mouth. Though the sun was setting, they were still warm, and incredibly sweet.
"Ms. Granger."
She gasped. His voice was just behind her ear, sending a trail of gooseflesh down her neck and spine. He pressed his body closer to her, and she couldn't stop the light shiver.
"You're going to drive me mad," she said, placing another blackberry in her mouth. Though she knew the wine was making her speak carelessly, she didn't stop her mouth from moving. "That bloody sexy voice of yours."
He pressed himself closer. "If that is the case, I am glad to repay you."
"I beg your pardon?"
His lips were now barely touching her ear. "Your little bits of fabric you call clothing? That you've been parading for nearly the whole of my stay?"
Hermione could hardly think straight, what with his hot breath on her ear and all. "You said you hated them. That no one wanted to see that."
"Ah. What I hated was my… response… to what I could see. How you made me want to see... more."
His hand was now on her hip, and she forced herself to not push her bum back and grind on him as his voice got even lower and more gravelly. "There are… problems… when a man is forced into a state for too long… and then, one fateful night, is given the pleasure of a woman."
"Oh?" Her voice was a whisper and he trailed his hand up, up her belly, his fingertips at the bottom of her breast.
"It's all he can do to not lost control the moment he's inside her."
"Huh." Snape's other hand trailed down her leg, slipping under her skirt.
"I apologize, Ms. Granger, but you were not the sexually inept one of our encounter. But I fully intend on making it up to you, if you wish."
Oh, gods, yes, she wished, she wished! "Someone might see us," she whispered instead. The sun hadn't quite set, and she did have neighbors on this side…
"Oh, but I thought that's how you liked it? Or am I mistaken with your… little… fetish?" His right hand was now kneading her breast, his left, the same to her cunt, his rock-hard dick now twitching on her lower back.
"Hermione!"
"For fuck's sake," Hermione whispered under her breath. Snape placed a kiss to her shoulder before lowering himself so that the porch fence hid him. "Thank you," Hermione said to him breathlessly, watching as Luna walked up into her yard.
"Hello, Hermione," Luna said, her bright face in a smile. "How are you this fine spring evening?"
"Oh," Hermione said, chuckling to cover a bit of a squeal as Snape reached up and pulled her knickers down. "Doing quite well."
"Neville and I were hoping to see Professor Snape here and there, but it appears he's hiding out inside?"
Snape had lifted one of her feet, and now he was working the other, getting her knickers officially off. "Oh, yes," Hermione said, her voice unnaturally high. "You know the rules of his stay. He's not allowed to leave the premises."
"Perhaps we could invite him to dinner sometime," Luna said. "Once he's all settled."
"Per-oh!" Snape wasted no time in introducing his tongue to her clit. He lapped her up in warm, slick licks, using the broad side of his tongue. It was all she could do to not scream.
"Are you alright, Hermione?"
"Yes, yes! Yes! I'm fine, Luna. Just a bug bite, is all." Hermione made a great show of slapping at her arm.
"Was it a miniature moon frog that got you? Neville has some homemade paste that would help with it."
"No, no. Just a mosquito, I think." Snape was now bloody worshipping her clit as though it were his last meal, flicking his tongue at all sides of her, then licking, hard. She thought she may pass out.
"Ah. Well, have a good evening, Hermione." Luna smiled. Glancing down, she added, "And you, too, Professor!" Then she flounced away.
Snape paused for about two seconds, but then wrapped his lips around her, sucking, and then it was very much all over for Hermione. She couldn't stop the moans as she fell on the porch with her forearms, her orgasm shattering her for what felt like ages.
When she was simply trembling, rather than thrashing, Snape stood and placed a hand at her waist. "Take me to your bedroom, Ms. Granger."
"Fucking hell," Hermione said, breathing heavily. "You've left me in no state to walk, sir."
"Well," he said, pulling her towards him. "I suppose it's good fortune that you're a witch."
Pop! Hermione barely registered that they were now in her bedroom before she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He tasted like wine and her, which was, she was surprised to find, an enormous turn-on.
She grabbed her wand and ran it down his chest, unbuttoning all those bloody buttons in one go. She broke the kiss to shove his coat off, then his top, bending to lap at his nipples, smiling as his breath caught in his throat. She lifted her mouth to his neck, which was just as delicious as she'd imagined, leaving little bruises from his ear to his collarbone as she worked his trousers down.
He'd nearly ripped her dress off, or perhaps he actually did rip it, Hermione couldn't find it in her to care very much either way. Gods knew where her bra ended up- she stopped thinking about it and all other things right around the time his mouth and fingers reached her nipples. After teasing her for the better part of five minutes, he lifted his head and pushed her, gently, back on the bed and climbed on top of her.
He held her thighs open and angled himself, pausing for a moment to look at her, his eyes questioning.
"Inside, now, Snape, or so help me-"
Smirking, he pushed in, and they both moaned. He pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back in, forcing her eyes to roll back. "Oh, my-" But her speech ceased as he slammed into her again, and again, somehow using more force each time, but keeping his thrusts maddening slow.
As she felt her orgasm building, her eyes fluttered open to see him watching her intently. "Are you close?" he rasped.
"I'm- I'm-" And she didn't have to say it, really, as she arched her back and tightened around him, the orgasm so strong, she felt it in her fingertips. And he shuddered just after, groaning her name. Her surname, but still. It meant something to her- she didn't know quite what yet, but it seemed significant somehow.
Afterwards, she curled herself around him, running her fingers along the muscles of his arm.
"Do you consider yourself justly compensated for your hospitality?" he asked after they both caught their breaths.
"Hmm. I don't know." Hermione pulled back a touch to give him a wry smile. "To be honest, you have eaten almost all my salmonberry jam."
"Have I?"
"Oh, yes. It was rather pricey, too. Imported." She kissed him lightly. "What I'm saying is, I think another two or three sessions might make up for it."
"Might make up for it?"
"Did you not hear me? The jam was imported!"
Snape rewarded her with a deep chuckle, and pulled her closer. "Imported from where?"
"Well, France, if you must know."
"Well, it's fortuitous, then, that I happen to have a cottage in France I am leaving for in the morning. Perhaps, if you accompany me for a number of days, together, we can find this… jam."
Hermione gave him a big smile. "Really? You want me to come?"
He simply raised an eyebrow.
"Well." She settled back on his shoulder. "I'll do it. For the jam, for course."
"Of course."
And Snape turned her over and spent the rest of the evening compensating her for the fancy, imported jam.
The end.
Much gratitude to all readers and reviews! You all are the best.
