Talk Dirt to MeAuthor: kelly_chamblissPairing:
Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank/Pomona SproutRating:
dirty talk (of sorts)Other Warnings:
When Pomona comes home to her lover Wilhelmina, they read some dirt before dinner. Set during Chamber of Secrets
My thanks to my partner for the quick beta and to Wilhelmina and Pomona for being so cooperative.
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"And then he tried to tell me it was unicorn dung that had been harvested in the wild!" Pomona's voice rose to an indignant squawk as she paced about the kitchen, a frown creasing her rosy, dirt-streaked face. "When anyone could see that it had come from grain-fed animals. Look at it!" Unmindful of the stew simmering on the stove, she thrust a small container of manure under Wilhelmina's nose.
Charming a lid to cover the stewpot, Wilhelmina stepped away from the range and looked. Sure enough, the dung was more uniform in colour than it would have been had it come from animals living in the wild. "Grain-fed, definitely," Wilhelmina agreed. "Barnstable's UniCorn Chow, if I'm not mistaken."
Pomona's customary smile momentarily broke through her scowl, and she gave Wilhelmina a quick peck on the cheek, leaving a smear of potting soil behind. "When are you ever mistaken about anything to do with magical creatures?" she asked. "And that's just what I said to that pesky salesman. I said, 'It's totally the wrong colour for wild dung, and it's essential that I have the real thing. Those children's lives depend on the mandrakes having proper magical fertiliser, so if you think for one minute that you're going to pawn off domesticated manure on me, Ogbert Nolan, you have another think coming!'"
As she spoke, she energetically brushed at the dirt that she'd left on Wilhelmina's face. "Oh, dear, I'm afraid I've made it worse," she said finally, screwing up her own face comically. "That Super-Gro soil is as tenacious as Devil's Snare."
Wilhelmina laughed. "Well, unless you have to burn it off like Devil's Snare, it's not a problem. A little dirt never hurt anything."
"I'm glad you think so," Pomona replied, glancing ruefully at the loam-encrusted front of her robes. "Because otherwise, our relationship would have been doomed before it started."
"'Nonsense, 'twas dirt that attracted me to you in the first place," Wilhelmina said; she turned back to the stove and uncovered the kettle again. "Saw you come into the Ministry Christmas gala with Screechsnap seeds on your sleeve and a smudge of dragon dung on the tip of your nose, and I thought, there's a girl I want to meet."
"Ohhhh...." Pomona turned a fetching shade of rose under the layer of dirt and squeezed Wilhelmina's arm. "I remember that night so clearly. I'd been in such a rush because I stayed at Hogwarts until the last minute to look after the Fanged Geraniums -- you know how temperamental they are when they've first bloomed -- and I hadn't but five minutes to get ready. I thought I'd cleaned up well enough, but I've never been at my best with Scourgify
charms. I could tell by the way people were looking at me that I must smell like a dungheap, and. . .well, you were very sweet when we were introduced, Will, to act like you didn't notice."
"Nothing sweet about it," Wilhelmina said as she stirred the lentils, filling the air with the scents of cumin and onion and basil. "You smelled like the outdoors; I like that."
"So it was love at first sniff?" asked Pomona, sliding her arms around Wilhelmina and resting her chin on the broad shoulder.
"Something like that," Wilhelmina said gruffly, embarrassed, as always, when the talk turned mushy. "So what happened with Ogbert?"
"Oh, eventually he apologised and claimed his elf must have packed the domestic fertilizer by mistake. He swore he'll owl me the proper package by tomorrow. Honestly, that man! I'd stop trading with him in an instant if he didn't have such a reliable supply of rare materials. Of course, I'd do business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself if it meant helping those poor, petrified children any sooner."
"And Mrs Norris."
"And Mrs Norris, certainly. Never fear, my dear, I shan't forget the moggy." Pomona planted a kiss behind Wilhelmina's ear. "And how was your day? How is the thestral foal? You've been looking after her, I gather?"
It was a reasonable deduction, Will thought. Just as Pomona always wore the fresh dirt of her greenhouse, Wilhelmina knew her own clothes and skin were marked by the sharp, clean scent of the animals she tended.
"The foal is improving," she said. "Yes, I was in the stable with her most of the day, as you can probably smell."
Pomona breathed deeply. "You smell like your animals and your stable and you. Which is a good thing." She raised herself on her toes to kiss her way further down Wilhelmina's neck, and Will felt a flare of heat that had nothing to do with the stove.
"But that isn't how I knew you'd been in the stable," Pomona went on. "See here."
She lifted a stray bit of straw off Will's robe and matched it to a leaf on her own. "One wouldn't have to be an Auror to figure out where you and I spend our time."
Will replaced the lid on her pot, cut the flame on the stove, and covered the stew with a stasis charm; if she had her way, dinner was going to be a while.
"So our dirt is like a book, is it?" she asked, pulling Pomona close and burying her nose in the soft, flyaway grey hair. "Shall we put that idea to the test?"
"What do you mean?" Pomona tilted her head back to look up into Will's face, and Will couldn't resist dropping a kiss onto her soil-smudged nose.
"I mean that I'm going to read your dirt. Starting with your face. See here," she said, echoing Pomona's earlier words as she traced a line of soil on her right cheekbone. "Dark and gritty, which tells me that you probably were repotting the umbrella flowers. And here -- " she kissed the sparkling reddish dust that marked the other cheek -- "is the flower pollen to prove it."
Pomona's eyes twinkled. "You're right, Detective Grubbly-Plank. What else?"
Wilhelmina stepped back to look at her critically. "This," she said, drawing her fingers lightly through the loamy patch on Pomona's bosom, "suggests a bit of a tussle with some Devil's Snare. Those vines know good tits when they see them."
"Right again, Auror G-P," Pomona said, chuckling. "Well, about the tussle, anyway."
"And about the tits," said Will firmly. "Let me demonstrate."
With a quick twist of her wand, she opened Pomona's robes and lowered them to her elbows, exposing large, soft breasts that she cupped gently. Pomona gave a little mew of pleasure and closed her eyes. "Is this part of the interrogation, detective?" she murmured.
"Not an interrogation. A reading. It's a reading. Of dirt. And yes, that's the rule: once a soil has been identified, it has to come off. Now, let's see what's next."
Still stroking the lovely breasts, Wilhelmina knelt down and made a show of inspecting the fabric that covered Pomona's waist. "Aha!" she said, pulling off a red-and-green leaf. "Been into the flora felix
, have you?"
"Mmmmm, yes." Pomona moaned as Will pushed her robes down further and kissed her bare stomach. "These are. . .stressful days at Hogwarts," she continued, her breathing growing laboured, "what with the Heir of Slytherin loose in the school, and the poor children in danger despite the staff's best efforts. So I try to keep a flora felix
in every classroom, their spores are so. . .ahhhhhh. . .soothing, you know."
She started to entwine her fingers into the short tufts of Will's salt-and-pepper hair, but Wilhelmina forestalled her. "No, no. You must stay totally still while the reading is going on. Don't move a muscle."
Still moving her lips and tongue slowly across Pomona's skin, Wilhelmina slid her hands around to caress the robe-covered backside. "What's this? Do I feel dried mud?"
"Ooohh, probably. I watered the snargaluff pods today, and -- "
"And then you sat on the wet trays?"
Pomona gave a rather breathless giggle. "Of course not, but those greenhouse aisles are a bit of a tight squeeze; I must have brushed against. . ." She trailed off with an "mmmmmmm" as Wilhelmina took the hint from her words and squeezed Pomona's arse before charming her robes to drop to the floor completely.
"Remember, don't move," Will commanded, running her hands down the sturdy legs and noting with approval that Pomona's booted feet were stationed at just the perfect width apart. She found the sight quite arousing -- Pomona with all her curves and generous flesh, curls of grey hair brushing both her shoulders and thighs, naked except for her magically-suspended black stockings and her thick-soled workboots.
Will cast a quick cushioning charm for her knees and Levitated Pomona to a proper angle, still stroking her legs and blowing gently on the grey curls. Pomona shuddered but otherwise, as instructed, did not move.
"Did you know that you even have gardening soil on your knees?" Wilhelmina asked, feathering the lightest possible touches along Pomona's calves and the creases behind her knees. "It looks sandy to me. . .from bubotuber plantings, I take it?"
Pomona's response was an incoherent mumble, so Wilhelmina lightly nipped her soft inner thigh. "Sorry -- didn't catch that."
"Eek! Yes, yes, it is. They grow better in soil that has been in contact with human skin, It's an old-fashioned technique, and I know a lot of modern herbologists scoff, but I swear by it. I'd never dream of planting bubotubers without kneeling down right in the muck."
Will growled deep in her throat. "I love when you talk dirt to me."
"Haha! All right, then, what else? Well, er. . .oooh, yes. . .over the years, the dirt just gets embedded in one's skin, and I . . .oh, my, Willa, that's lovely. . ."
Wilhelmina had eased the side of her hand between Pomona's legs; she could feel her lover's thighs begin to tremble as she put her thumb to work, massaging the wet, warmth depths.
"So you get naked on your knees in the soft dirt, hmmmm?" Will pressed, using her other hand to draw lazy circles on Pomona's kneecap. She was rewarded with another moan before Pomona gasped, "Not naked, silly. I just roll down my stockings and -- "
"Get down and dirty?" finished Wilhelmina as she replaced her thumb with her tongue and held tight to Pomona's hips. A long, keening cry was her only answer, for Pomona was by then beyond speech, her legs shaking, her knees finally buckling as she came.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
They sat together in a comfortable heap on the kitchen floor, Pomona's dusty robes soft underneath them. Eventually Pomona stirred and kissed Wilhelmina gently.
"I wish you'd let me -- " she began, but Will shook her head. Her pleasure came from watching Pomona's; she didn't mind a few caresses, but she wanted nothing more.
"Now, now, none of that," she said with mock-sternness, returning Pomona's kiss quickly. "It's getting late, and not even a stasis charm will preserve that stew forever.
"So why don't you go and wash up? Don't look now, but you've got snargaluff dirt on your nose."