Ever wonder what happened the first Christmas Snape spent with Hermione with her adopted family the Weasleys? Happy Holidays all.
I believe Molly would poison me if she believed she had half a chance of success; sitting at her table next to the woman whom she dreamt of for her son since they were mere children. I the bastard, Hermione's choice to accompany her. Molly hated me for this through tight smiles, and near snarled offers of food.
Potter lowers his eyes and stifles a giggle, how childish is he still? I'm warmed as young Ginevra brings him to heel quickly, and silently with I believe an elbow to the kidneys. Pity there is a potion for kidney failure.
I, of course, do a much better job at hiding my amusement.
Arthur tries to drag me into conversation, this was not part of the deal! Hermione said I had to come and eat, nothing was said about participation in their banalities! Her hand travels up my thigh to squeeze, I near stutter my words rushing to reply to Arthur.
Ginevra cast a smile across the table; I look at Potter who gives me a knowing look, my God I'm being dragged through the Molly Prewett school of spousal education! A slow method of androcide.
I drink my wine deeply, and think of my favorite Yule gift, blue lingerie. Not for me! For Hermione; bought as the linchpin for my celebrating these felicitous days with Potter, and the family of the red head imbecile, though he is not here.
Hermione in blue lace, not the pale blue worn by children and the feeble, no, midnight blue trimmed with black. I smile this is all worth it to see Hermione in that blue lace, dusty nipples peeking. Potter chokes on his goose; the twin, the remaining one that is, sticks his hand out to the dragon keeper, gold is exchanged.
The half veela wife smiles at Hermione with a self satisfied look, I query should I thank her since I am sure she's taught Hermione some newly acquired skills, or curse her on principle.
Instead I look at her husband, giving him a slight bow, his face maybe scared but it makes him no less expressive. He looks from Hermione to me and turns an unbecoming shade red, before whispering to his wife. That's right, remember who I am curse breaker.
Molly for a woman with seven children wishes the world to believe her an asexual prude. With her constant nagging for grandchildren you think she would simply respect the fact that some of us wish to make the journey to commitment a gradual one, while still enjoying each other physically during the journey. Alas not!
She has Hermione rooming with the girlfriend of the twin, and has placed me with the dragon keeper, who smiles at me wickedly before saying in a conversational tone that he sleeps like the dead, and unless I sound like a Russian Red giving birth he will neither see nor hear anything.
He may have fooled his imbecilic brothers with that line, but not I. But I do not hex him, after all he has proven to be an excellent supplier of parts.
I sit at the end of "my" bed with its glaringly bright purple stared Pride of Portree blanket, fold my arms atop my pyjamas and dressing gown, and begin the process of mentally running through my potion stores.
It is atleast an hour later when Ginevra knocks, her voice carrying through the door that the bathroom was free; the dragon keeper is already sleeping and snoring like one of his blessed animals himself.
The water is lukewarm, the water pressure pitiful, the charm would have been faster but habits are hard to break.
I sigh as I step out of the horrible excuse for a shower, and start to dry off.
Then I feel it, her magic testing the wards of the bathroom, I am tempted to throw atleast a half a dozen more up, make her work to get in; instead I drop them all and cast a muffliato.
She smiles as she slips in, and places a finger to her lips, so Miss Granger is this how you seek to play?
With silent wand work I am dry, and she sinks gracefully to her knees before me, Gods woman! She knows what this does to me, this submissive posturing, I want to drag her up and tell her never lower herself before me! I want to perpetrate acts of debauched perversions until her tears mix with my cum.
I take a deep breath as she slips her dressing gown off displaying her naked body
I bite the inside of my cheek, watching as she runs her hands up my legs to fist me. My eyes lower to half mast at the first kiss to the head. She gives it small kisses and licks, before she takes me into her mouth. I sink my hands into her riotous curls, her gloriously hot mouth makes me fight a moan that glides almost effortlessly from my lips, as she takes me as deeply as she can into her mouth. The urge to force the last few inches in, to feel her throat tighten around my head, to hear her choke, is so strong and she knows it. She plays with my darkness with her own shades of grey.
She never takes me fully down but it does not matter, she is an enthusiastic cock sucker, I settle after a while with my hands behind my back clasped hand to forearm, and enjoy her lips on my cock. Directing her to touch herself, only moving to warn her when I am close to climax.
She offers her face, her breast and I paint them with my come. She closes her eyes and comes over her hand.
After a moment I offer my hand, then a cleansing spell, she accepts both careful not to offer me the hand dripping with her cream I note, and takes a kiss as well, before pulling her dressing gown on and slipping out of the bathroom, still having not spoken a single word.
I dress quickly, and leave the bathroom as the clock strikes 12.
Merry Christmas to me.