The Vibrator, the Witch and the Painting - Chapter 2 Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me. Just borrowed. Will be returned. Snape is welcome to stay, though.
A big Thank You goes to my beta-reader and brit-picker, Melusin, who transfers my babble into language, sorts my random punctuation and is a good friend. This story was written for an anti-doom-and-gloom challenge by Melusin.
Chapter 2
Severus Snape liked sex very much. He liked it so much that the lack of its regular occurrence turned out to be the only thing he really missed after his return to Britain. Of course there were occasional flings. He had been away long enough to be considered a catch by some women, but while he indulged on rare occasions, most often he turned the invitations down. He was still too well known to trust his casual acquaintances and never was quite certain if the women were interested in him or in the famous war hero.
Outside the UK, he'd had no problems finding interested women; on the contrary, he was usually considered a fascinating man and had been rather popular. But back in his own country, he suffered the fate of the proverbial prophet and had all the baggage of the past loaded upon him once again. Even more than twenty years after the end of the war, people remembered the unpleasant teacher, the ex-Death Eater. "Greasy Git" was still whispered behind his back.
This changed after he got his Order of Merlin, but the women chasing him now weren't exactly the kind who attracted his fancy. Most of them had heard about his youthful attachment to Harry Potter's mother––Potter had made certain that everybody and their dog knew about it––and these women now wanted to console the heartbroken man they imagined him to be and to teach him the meaning of true love––with themselves as the focus of attention, of course. Needless to say, they held no attraction for him whatsoever, and he avoided them like the plague.
Some wives of his 'old friends' showed a bit too much interest in him on occasion, but Severus loathed adultery.
Muggles were an option, and he wasn't opposed to having a bit of fun with an interesting Muggle woman from time to time, but these seldom went further than one-night stands. For a relationship, he would have had to keep his magical life a secret, and he was tired of keeping secrets. He'd had enough of those to last the rest of his life. What he wanted was someone steady, even if this meant emotion, drama and commitment. It also meant comfort, emotional stability and regular, reliable, satisfying sex.
Alas, a woman who met all his requirements was nowhere to be found and thus, more often than not, he had to resort to the good old do-it-yourself method.
This was the situation when Hermione Granger invaded his library and his life. It was out of a sense of bad conscience and guilt, he supposed. Potter, Weasley and Granger had demonstrated that typical expression of suppressed guilt when they had finally acknowledged his continuous existence at the commemoration ball. They had left him to die twenty years ago and had done nothing to help him. Now they were being painfully reminded of their lack of compassion–– even if it was only by their own guilty consciences.
Severus could have relieved them of their guilt if one of them had considered talking to him about it. As surprising as that might have been to others and even himself, he held no grudge against them. He knew how young and scared they had been at that time, burdened with tasks far too heavy for their years. Besides, they had taken him for the right-hand man of Voldemort, the man who had murdered their beloved Dumbledore, and they would rightfully have been relieved that he could pose no danger to them any longer. Severus understood all this and had forgiven them a long time ago.
However, instead of talking, and perhaps, apologizing, the dream team had forced themselves upon him with the firm resolve to help and make amends. Well, Potter and Granger had, in any case. Weasley had wriggled out of it with lame excuses. No surprises there.
And so Severus had spent the best part of two months watching out for Potter, who’d activated one trap after another in his over enthusiasm. At least the curse-finding and breaking had been a lot quicker that way than if he'd had to do it all by himself. Neither of them had been seriously injured; no lasting harm had been done.
Severus had offered his own apologies to those who deserved them, and to his surprise, they had been gracefully accepted. The children from his past had grown up, and just as he understood the trio's motives, those young people understood, after learning about his true role, why he had been forced to act the way he had, and that he’d actually done everything in his power to protect them during his fateful tenure as headmaster.
The forgiveness he was granted gave him the closure he needed, and when he had finished his rounds with a nervous, yet gracious, Neville Longbottom, Severus had felt that he was now ready to start a new life, perhaps even with friends and acquaintances who would treat him like a human being. A normal life was something he had always wanted; it just seemed to have been out of his reach all the time. Maybe now, in his later years, he could finally achieve it. And perhaps he could even find a woman to share this life with him.
The woman who had caught his fancy was now sitting at the desk in his library and sulking. She didn't know about his feelings, wouldn't for some time––and maybe never––but he was certain that she was exactly what he wanted.
Hermione Granger, the mature woman, was quite different from the girl he had known during the war years. She was still stubborn, bossy and a know-it-all, but those attributes were tempered and refined by experience, a solid knowledge and the ability to admit that she was wrong on occasion. Hermione had a fine, dry sense of humour, quick wit, and just the right amount of self-irony. It was exactly his kind of humour; it delighted him no end––and turned him on considerably.
She wasn't bad to look at, either. Her wild hair was still the same; that was an aspect of her he had always liked. Wild, unmanageable hair was invariably a sign of strong natural magic in magical folk. His nemesis, James Potter, had had it. Potter's son was cursed with the same untameable cowlick, and Severus himself had never managed to get his hair to behave and not hang about his face like a wet dishrag. Hermione also had the magical hair; it virtually crackled when she was excited and stood on end when she was angry. He was glad that she still wore it long; it suited her personality.
The rest of her was quite attractive, too. Her warmth and the scent of her, together with a good view of a very nice cleavage, were tantalizing and frequently offered when she bent towards him to show him something in a book. Her arse begged to be touched, stretching the fabric of her practical jeans in the most intriguing ways. He barely could keep his eyes away when she stooped to retrieve a book from a lower shelf.
The sight of her in that thin, silk nightgown the first night she had stayed at his house, though, did him in completely. She didn't seem aware of it, but her breasts had been clearly visible through the fabric. Very pretty breasts they were, too, with lovely, pert nipples. He’d had to fight the impulse to pounce on her right there and then––and scare her away. All he’d been able to do to get his wits back had been to offer her his own dressing gown in order to get those nipples covered up before he made a complete fool of himself. Thankfully, his own nightshirt was cut wide and comfortable—too wide to show off any traitorous tents or bulges. That same night, he had resolved to get her into his bed—preferably into his life and into his bed, but into his bed in any case.
Right now, that prospect didn't seem very likely. Hermione had come to his house in a right snit after having spent the weekend in her own home. It had become her habit to spend the week working with him on the library and to spend the weekend at home with her extended family and friends.
"Is something wrong?" he finally asked when her brooding had continued for an hour, and his curiosity got the better of him.
She looked up, surprise and annoyance written all over her features. Conflicting emotions were warring briefly in her face, and finally she shrugged and sighed. "I may as well tell you the whole story; you'll learn about it, anyway." She took a magazine out of her handbag and threw it on the table in front of him, glowering again.
Severus took the magazine and looked at it. It was Witch Weekly. "You don't expect me to read this…"
"Look at the title and the articles advertised there."
Severus scanned the title page with its coquettish picture of a recent debutante of wizarding high society and some more or less grammatically correct catchphrases.
"’Perenella Fudge spills the beans––how Cornelius liked the divorce settlement’," Severus read out loud and frowned. "’Celestina Warbeck live in London’." He looked up questioningly, but Hermione merely gestured impatiently.
"Go on."
"’War hero finds new love after divorce’." Another questioning look.
Hermione nodded and glared.
"’Why a true witch is better in bed––Lavender Brown tells all (p. 14)’."
Hermione was now almost foaming at the mouth. "Go on. Go to page fourteen. Read it."
His eyebrows rose up, and he opened the magazine at the required page. It was an interview with Lavender Brown waxing lyrical about her happiness as the new fiancée of war hero, Ronald Weasley.
"'I'm not laying any blame, but as a witch from an old family, I know what's right and proper and what a true wizard needs,' Lavender admitted with a becoming blush, and continued, 'We have our traditions, and Muggleborns, as well-adjusted and magically powerful as they may be, simply cannot know about this aspect of wizarding life. Ron has come back to life since he's been with me. I give him exactly what he needs and make him happy.' Special correspondent, Rita Skeeter, asked about Weasley's former wife, the infamous Hermione Granger, whose conquests among famous and infamous wizards alike have been legendary ever since she passed puberty, but Lavender refused to go into details. It is our understanding as experienced journalists, however, that certain witches don't need to fake it while others may confuse quantity for quality…" Severus put the magazine down and stared wide-eyed at Hermione. Her hair was standing on end.
"That… that… that insufferable old harridan… If she thinks she can get away with this… If HE thinks––if THEY think they can get away with this…" Her eyes narrowed as she stared into space. "Just you wait," she hissed at no one in particular. "Just you wait…"
Severus didn't envy Weasley and his new fiancée at all, nor did he feel sympathetic towards Rita Skeeter. Remembering Hermione's methods of dishing out justice, he knew that they were in for some surprises.
"Don't… don't do anything too harmful…” he tried to caution her.
Her head snapped towards him, and her eyes refocused. She let out a coarse cackle. "Don't worry. I have, ah, adjusted my methods over the years." She studied him, a sly smirk spreading over her features. "As you know only too well, the satisfaction of revenge is much greater if you play strictly by the rules. The moral high ground has great strategic value."
Now it was Severus' turn to guffaw. "Indeed. So what are you going to do?"
She was still staring at him with that smirk, but slowly her expression moved from angry to thoughtful and calculating.
"I won't have to do much at all. Molly will take care of most of it. She'll give Lavender a tongue-lashing that'll make her wish she'd never been born. Thank Merlin for small favours that this drivel wasn't published in the Daily Prophet."
Severus nodded. Witch Weekly was popular, but it didn't reach as great a readership as the Prophet by far.
"Any damage to my children should be averted, thanks to Minerva. Hugo is too young, thankfully, and Rose…" Hermione let out a short laugh. "Rose has learned about the realities of life from me and my parents. She’s laughing about the whole affair and has told me not to worry."
"How old is she?"
"She was fourteen in September; we share a birthday."
"There might be teasing, taunting…"
"She'll handle it. I talked to Minerva and asked her to keep an eye on Rosie, but I'm not too worried. But that doesn't mean I'm not angry about the thoughtlessness… You don't expose your children to ridicule. This is simply not acceptable." The last part was said in an angry hiss again.
Before Severus could reply, a noise from the fireplace, together with a whirl of green light, soot and ashes, interrupted them.
"Severus?" Molly Weasley's voice came from the Floo. "Is Hermione there?"
"I'm here. What do you want?" Hermione said, none too friendly.
"We have to talk…"
Hermione ignored the snort from the background and scowled. "If you mean to confront me with Ron and his… fiancée, you’d better think again."
"No, no, don't worry, dear. Lavender won't be there—only the other girls and I."
"All right."
"Can you come through right away?"
Hermione shrugged and looked questioningly at Severus, who murmured, "By all means."
"I won't be long." Hermione flashed him a smile and stepped into the fire, grabbing a handful of Floo powder. "The Burrow!" And with a green whirl, she was gone.
When Hermione came back an hour later, her mood had improved greatly. Severus noticed with amusement that she now wore a smug smile instead of her earlier scowl.
"It looks like you've been plotting your revenge, already," he said when he caught her chuckling to herself for the third time. "A bit surprising, given where you spent the last hour."
"Oh, Molly isn't so bad. A bit old-fashioned, but her seven children weren't brought by the stork, you know… And just as I predicted, she took care of Lavender, but we also had another idea… She came up with an idea for a bit of subtle revenge—a bit silly, maybe, but there won’t be any violence. No one will be harmed, really. Come to think of it…" She gave him a calculating look.
"What?"
"You know, we could help each other."
His puzzled look made her laugh. "I know and you know that your little… arrangement here with Harry and me is your little ploy for getting revenge. You’ve finally been able to get back at us for our past sins, isn't that it? No need to hide it any longer; I've seen right through it."
Severus eyebrows crawled up to his hairline. "Absolutely not. You are mistaken, I…"
She didn't let him finish. "Oh, piffle, it doesn't really matter, anyhow, does it? It's understandable, and we needed to make amends, too."
"I know that, but…" He shook his head, wondering if he would ever manage to finish a sentence again without having to pull his old teacher tricks up from their dusty grave.
"It's all right. I understand." That calculating look again. "But you didn't get any revenge on Ron, did you? He wriggled out of it, as usual… and that’s where we could help each other."
Severus tried a different tactic. "How so?" There––just enough time for a short sentence fragment while she drew breath.
Her smile was sweet, deceptively so. "There's the Ministry Christmas ball, next month. We'll have finished the work on your library by then. How about we go to that ball together and enjoy ourselves? All you’ll have to do is flirt with me a bit, and I’ll flirt back. It’ll only be for one evening."
"I should be delighted," Severus said in all honesty. "But how is that useful for your plan for revenge?"
"Lavender won't enjoy that evening very much; Molly will see to that. But I will enjoy myself. And if Lavender sees me dancing and flirting––and with you of all people––she'll be very, very envious."
"Envious?"
"Yes. You are, after all, one of the most sought-after bachelors of the season, in case you hadn't noticed…"
Hermione's sarcastic smirk made Severus' cheeks flush. He had noticed an increased interest among the witches of his acquaintance, but he hadn't known that things had progressed that far.
"I see," he ground out through clenched teeth. "And that helps you how, exactly?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Can’t you see? I'll be the envy of most of the women at the ball, and that'll be good for my ego." She grinned cheekily. "Lavender will eat her heart out."
"If you say so." Severus was not convinced.
"Trust me. And Ron will be fuming."
"Is that so?"
"Oh, definitely! He's still of the opinion that he saved me from a fate worse than death by marrying me. The bookworm. Old Hermione, who is conveniently around all the time. But that part of my life is thankfully over, although I can't regret it because it gave me my children. In any case, Ron'll never believe that I can enjoy the company of another man, and vice versa." She smiled. "But you and me at the ball together, flirting and having fun, will just give him a fit. He’s never been able to fully understand who you are and what you did for all of us."
All anger was gone from Hermione's face, and she looked at him earnestly, compassionately almost. But that was probably wishful thinking, Severus thought.
"Well, if that is what you wish, how can I refuse?" he said, and the deal was settled.
When Hermione came to pick Severus up on the night of the ball, his jaw dropped. He knew that she was good looking. She possessed a healthy, vital glow, together with a nice figure and pleasant features. Tonight, however, the handsome woman had disappeared, and an enchantress stood before him. He had to keep himself in check to not constantly stare; he didn't know how she had done it.
Hermione was wearing a long, black silk dress. It sheathed her figure perfectly: nothing was too tight, and nothing too loose. The dress was strapless, but the amount of skin exposed was moderate; Hermione didn't need to show excessive amounts of skin to be irresistible. Her curves formed the soft fabric, or maybe the fabric formed her curves; it really didn't matter. The dress was tantalizing but not too obvious, nor was it too revealing. It kept a man's interest up by keeping him constantly wondering about what lay underneath. Some of the fabric was gathered and draped on her left hip with a moderate slit at the front to give her room to move and walk, but it only offered glimpses of stocking when Hermione sat down and crossed her legs or pushed the fabric apart with a large step. In any case, Severus lacked the proper vocabulary to describe the dress properly. When she turned around to be admired, his breath hitched. Her hair wasn't twisted up but fell in soft, elegant waves onto her shoulders. He was certain, though, that she'd used vast amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion.
Her back looked soft and silky and was enough to make his fingers itch to touch and pull on that zip that held the whole thing together.
As if all that wasn't seductive enough, she was wearing long, black silk gloves. Even more skin was covered that was begging to be revealed. She looked ready to be eaten, to be devoured, pounced upon, ravished… Alas, all he could do was to nod his head briefly, stare at her coolly and murmur, "Acceptable... Quite... acceptable."
"Oh, don't go overboard with your enthusiasm." Hermione giggled, took his arm, and they walked to the Apparition point behind the fence.
Just as Severus had predicted, Hermione turned every man's head—and more than one woman's head, too. Pansy Zabini-Parkinson was the first to look her up and down with a hostile and envious glare. Pansy had made a huge effort, wearing a daring low-cut dress with high slits on both sides of the very tight skirt. Severus thought that she might as well have left the skirt off entirely so much leg was bared, but as so often, exposure of too much skin caused the opposite of what was intended. Not that Severus minded much; he liked to see naked female skin, like every other straight man, but Pansy's dress decidedly lacked class. Blaise guided his wife inside, but behind her back, he turned his head and gave Hermione an appreciative stare.
Inside the ballroom, Hermione looked around briefly and then led Severus over to a group of very elegant looking women. Severus did a double take. One of these women was Molly Weasley. Dressed in a flattering cream coloured dress and a lacy spencer jacket (or something of the kind, Severus thought) that covered her arms and shoulders. Arthur Weasley, in conservative black dress robes, stood beside his wife and looked completely bedazzled.
When she caught sight of them, Molly smiled and greeted them charmingly.
"Hermione! Look at you! And Severus, all elegant. You know Ginny, of course, but have you met my daughters-in-law?" she asked.
Severus merely nodded, slightly dazed. They were barely recognizable as the ordinary witches he knew them for, although Fleur Weasley always looked stunning. Before him stood beautiful, elegant, self-assured women who were determined to have a good time. Their husbands stood proudly at their sides, looking a bit overwhelmed.
One couple was missing, though. Severus looked around.
"If you’re wondering where Ron and Lavender are, they’re over there," Hermione said. "Molly told them to stay out of her sight tonight."
Ron was staring at the group with bulging eyes, and Lavender flushed beet-red. She was looking rather harmless, her low-cut, frilly dress making her look matronly instead of sexy.
"So what do you think?" Hermione asked.
"Being excluded from such an elegant group in the room, who also happen to be family, would smart, I suppose." Severus smirked, but before Hermione could reply, a bright flash blinded them.
"Oh, hello, Luna," Hermione greeted her friend. "You brought a camera?"
"Oh, yes," Luna said dreamily. "You look very beautiful tonight, Hermione. My article for the Quibbler's society section should have a picture, don't you think? You all look so elegant. And everyone will be safe now—the flash from the camera will ward off the Spucklemites."
"Spucklemites?"
"They cause irreversible apathy attacks. The Ministry is heavily infested with them," Luna said earnestly.
"I can believe that," Severus said, feeling patient for once. Although Luna Scamander, née Lovegood, hadn't changed one bit since he had known her in his classes, her enthusiastic acceptance of his apology and her honest welcome had warmed his heart more than he cared to admit and made his feelings towards her rather mellow.
"You look very beautiful, too, Mr. Snape," Luna said before she went away to talk to Ginny and Harry.
"Uh," Severus said to her back. Shaking his head slightly, he led Hermione to the dinner table where he was able to finally stare at her to his heart's content. She was his date, after all. He was entitled to a bit of staring.
As elegant as the Weasley women were tonight, Hermione outshone them all—at least, in Severus opinion. She moved with grace and elegance; her smile was enchanting, her conversation captivating. Severus had to remind himself constantly that he was there for a reason so not to fall completely under her spell.
After dinner and the speeches, the dancing started. Severus whirled Hermione around––she was a very good dancer––and warded the competition off with a vengeance.
"But you can't monopolize her," Dean Thomas whinged. "She'd want to dance with other blokes, too."
"I doubt it." Severus looked down his nose and led a smiling Hermione into the next dance.
"We're not living in the Victorian era any more where ladies had dance cards, for gods’sake," Hermione admonished Dean, who uttered some expletives behind Severus' back. She grinned up at Severus. "This is going splendidly."
Severus nodded and spiralled her into a Rumba move.
"Before I'm too pished…" Hermione giggled, raising her glass of champagne to him. "I sh… should thank you for this evening… Was lovely."
Severus felt rather mellow; he'd had his fair share of champagne, as well. "My pleasure," he purred, proud that he didn't mumble. They had moved from the dance floor to the bar, and he had successfully monopolized her some more.
"Skeeter was oddly quiet. I would have thought she'd approach you." He broached the subject of her revenge again.
"She always moved to the other side of the room when she saw Molly or me," Hermione said, laughing. Severus remembered fondly that both Molly and Hermione had something of a reputation for not being messed with.
"Did you see Ron's face when we danced the tango?" Hermione's smile was dreamy.
Severus shared her fondness for that particular memory; that had been some tango, indeed. They had moved together as if they'd evolved as a four-legged and four-armed creature revolving around a common centre of gravity. But now the evening was coming to an end, and Severus didn't quite know how to proceed. He didn't want to let her go, but he was afraid of making a move.
"We have to go soon," Hermione murmured and looked at him oddly.
"Can you Apparate? We wouldn't want to Splinch that lovely dress, now, would we?" Severus said and bit his tongue. That had slipped out involuntarily.
"Was that a compliment?" Hermione looked surprised and pursed her red-painted lips.
Severus would have liked to help her in removing that lipstick with slow, thorough kisses, but he had to remind himself forcefully that he was a means for revenge, nothing more.
"Why not," he shrugged. "Your appearance has certain, ah, aesthetic merit."
"Well, I'm glad you like it." That odd stare again. "And getting back to your question, no, I don't think I can Apparate." Her smile was provocative. Apparently, her revenge still wasn’t complete.
Severus frowned. "So, tell me, Hermione, is it true what Skeeter writes? Are you lacking what a... proper witch has?" That took the smirk from her face and gave Severus a slight feeling of satisfaction. Two could play at that game. He wasn't a man who allowed himself to be used—not anymore, he thought bitterly.
Hermione's glare could have ignited cinders. She took a deep breath, pursed those red lips again and leaned towards him, staring him in the eyes. Insolent wench.
"Care to find out?" she said in a low, husky voice.
He swallowed. "Why not?" he murmured, stood up and took her arm, mentally berating himself for making a big mistake. Outside, he Apparated both of them to her house, and she led him inside.
The door closed behind them, and he drew her into a hard, aggressive kiss, which was returned just as aggressively. Out of breath, they stared at each other before she took him by the hand and dragged him to her bedroom without a word. He didn't put up any resistance, even as his mind screamed, Run away! but he didn't listen to it. Once inside, he shrugged off his jacket and toed his shoes and socks off. She slipped out of her high heels, but when she started to take her long silk gloves off, he stilled her hand.
"Let me." Since this was bound to be a one-time occurrence, he might just as well enjoy it to the fullest.
She stared at him through long lashes. "If you wish."
He took great care to remove the glove from her left arm and hand, gently and gingerly rolling the fabric down and softly pulling at the fingers. He followed the trail of the glove with soft kisses on her shoulders and inner side of her arm. When the glove was finally off, he kissed the palm of her hand and repeated the procedure with the glove on her right arm, relishing the feel of the silky-soft skin. By the time he’d kissed the other palm as well, her eyes were glazed over, and she was looking slightly flushed.
His own breath wasn't as steady as it had been, either. He turned her around. "Now the dress." His lips followed his fingers and planted kisses on the skin as it was exposed by the zip. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She wasn’t wearing knickers. His trousers became tight. When the zip was opened as far as it could go, he turned her around again and slowly pushed the dress downwards until it formed a heap at her feet. She stepped out of it and stood before him clad only in her stockings and smiling invitingly.
“What about the stockings?” she asked seductively.
Severus was surprised to see that the stockings were not being held up by anything. That must have been some charm she’d used there. He ran his hand over the black silk.
“Leave these on,” he whispered huskily.
He swallowed and drew her towards him, enveloping her in his arms. His searing kiss was returned just as fiercely. His hands had found her breasts, and while he stroked them, she moaned and rubbed her hips against him.
"Get these clothes off," she hissed, starting to open the buttons of his shirt and softly stroking his chest. He pulled his shirt out of his trousers and helped her with the buttons, watching her, mesmerised. She had started to stroke herself with one hand. Seeing this excited him even more than undressing her had.
He cleared his throat. "You're doing my job," he croaked while he pushed his trousers and boxers down and stepped out of them. His cock stood out proudly, and she stared at it with an expression in her eyes that wasn't entirely greed or longing. Hunger was what he would have called it—if he could still have reasoned clearly.
"Don't you like to watch?" she asked huskily, rubbing herself faster and stroking her breasts with the other hand.
"I prefer to be involved," he whispered and walked behind her, lifting her hair off her shoulders and neck. He bent down and kissed the exposed skin, the neck, both shoulders, and then followed her spine downwards.
She leaned into him. "I need a while to… you know?" she explained, sounding a bit insecure.
He stopped kissing her and stroked her neck with one finger. "There has to be some advantage in inviting an older man into your bed, don't you think? I'll last…" he murmured and covered her hand with his own, adjusting the rhythm of his stroking fingers to hers. She sighed and leaned her head back onto his shoulder and closed her eyes.
"Good?" he asked when she stopped stroking herself and instead moved her hands up and down the side of his legs.
"Mmmmh," she murmured, obviously completely immersed in the sensations his fingers elicited.
"Allow me," he said when he felt her breath speeding up. He gently turned her around, his hand still stimulating her clit. Some gentle pushing while he kissed her again manoeuvred her towards the bed. With a soft "oomph", she sat down when her calves hit the frame. He sank onto his knees, spread her legs and dived in.
She squeaked, "Merlin's balls…" before her words became incoherent.
"Stop thinking," he mumbled and continued to kiss, nibble, lick and suck until she cried out and came with a shuddering moan.
He waited until she’d caught her breath again and stood up, leaning over her. "May I?"
She nodded, still looking dazed, and he lifted her hips up and entered slowly.
"Merlin, that feels good," she murmured when he was all the way in.
He watched her through half-closed lids. She was still breathing fast; her skin was flushed and her nipples hard. She wasn't completely down from her high yet, which was how he wanted it. He moved slowly, making certain that he kept stimulating her clit with his thrusts. When he felt her move together with him, felt her join his rhythm, he changed his angle slightly until she squeaked and her eyes flew open.
"Good?" he asked again, keeping a firm grip on his own emotions and expression––he hoped. There was no way that he'd show her how much being with her, being inside her, delighted him.
"Guh!" was all the answer he got, and after that, there were only moans and sighs.
"Close, so close," she whispered after a while, and he intensified his efforts until she keened. He felt the telltale spasms all around him and wanted nothing more than to speed up and join in. After debating briefly with himself, he called himself a fool and let go. He came a short while later with a low grunt.
As soon as Severus could think again, he withdrew, cleaned himself up and stepped into his trousers. "I take it that your revenge is complete now, Ms. Granger," he said coldly, about to open the door.
"Oh, don't be such an idiot, Severus, and come back," Ms. Granger grunted.
He blinked, his posture stiffened, and his hand rested unmoving on the doorknob.
"If you think I'd sleep with a man for revenge then… then… I thought you'd know better than that. When I choose someone for my bed, it's because I'm attracted to him. Now stop acting up and come back."
He turned around slowly and frowned.
She had covered herself with the sheets and was glaring at him, biting her lip. "Unless… ah… perhaps you didn't enjoy it?"
"I don't like being used."
"Well, neither do I," Hermione hissed. "If you think I just did this for revenge, why did you play along? Why act as if you had a good time? And what you did with me, here… I can't believe that was cold scheming." She looked at him innocently; a small smile on her lips, one hand patted the bed at her side.
He gave in, let go of the doorknob and went back to the bed. When he sat down, he sighed. "And now?"
She sniffed. "I was hoping that, perhaps, we could do it again?" That was a rather hopeful look she gave him there—and a small insolent smirk.
"Really?"
"Oh, for gods' sake, Severus! Yes, really. So why don’t you lie down with me here, get some rest and cuddle a bit? I do enjoy your company, too, not only your, ah… you know?"
"I don't cuddle." He had moved to her side and put an arm around her while she put her head on his shoulder.
"No, of course not. We’re just keeping each other warm." She laughed, and Severus felt something melt inside him. Maybe this evening hadn't been such a mistake, after all.
"So, did you achieve what you wanted to at the ball, then?" he asked after a while, absentmindedly stroking her hair.
"I think so, yes, but I don't care all that much. I had such a smashing time, thanks to you." She rolled around, now partly lying on his stomach, and stroked his face with her index finger.
"You weren't bad yourself," he admitted grudgingly. "But will you tell me finally what this was all about? What exactly did Ms Brown refer to in that article? You weren't exactly unresponsive here… ah… earlier."
Hermione took a deep breath and let it out with a hiss. "I… ah… I could kill Ron… It's… I take a while to really get going, and so I like to experiment." She stared at him suggestively.
"So?"
"In bed, I mean. You know, trying out different positions, playing a bit... All rather harmless, or so I thought. I do like to be on top on occasion or find positions to improve my, ah, response, but Ron… Apparently, that's not what he thinks a proper witch does… and he couldn't keep his gob shut…"
Severus grimaced. "What does Weasley know about what a proper witch does?"
"According to Molly, he didn't learn that crap from her. She thinks that he spent too much time with his aunt Muriel. And Muriel's idea of proper behaviour is that a witch is supposed to fall in love with her sweetheart when she's eleven, marry him after school and then have his babies. And it's how people still do it. Look at Ginny, at Fleur… Molly and Arthur met at school. So did Harry's…ah…I'm sorry."
Severus glared at her. "And I wouldn't have been an exception, as you well know."
"Yes," she whispered. "But you've grown out of it."
"Are you sure?"
"You wouldn't be so skilled and confident as a lover if you hadn't…"
He still glared. "I don't know if I would have grown out of it, but she didn't choose me, so…"
"So you found other women?"
"Yes."
"And enjoyed yourself?"
"Yes."
"And learned a thing or two on the way?"
"Obviously."
"There you have it. And did it ever occur to you that you didn't behave like a proper wizard ought to?"
"Once or twice. My Gran might have mentioned it."
"And it doesn't bother you?"
"Should it?"
Hermione laughed out loud. "Absolutely not. I'm rather glad…" She had moved her stroking finger from his face to his chest, and he felt himself get all interested again. He took her hand and kissed her fingers.
"And so the formidable Mr. Weasley and the, ah, proper Ms. Brown have found each other and enjoy the traditional ways. And you are having a hard time finding someone you trust enough to experiment with, is that it?" Severus felt very gratified by the way Hermione stared back at him, hypnotized, fascinated.
She cleared her throat. "That's exactly it. And so, for the most part, I have to rely on myself… uhm…you know that invention of mine…"
"Yes?"
"That charmed reader box… I invented it because it helps me get into the mood when I…"
"Remarkable…" He stared at her. She was the most amazing woman he'd ever met.
"You think so?" She smiled. "You know, it's not as if other witches aren't interested or repressed much, only no one ever speaks about it… You'd think in a girl's dorm... but no… They used to come and look at my teen magazines. Can you imagine? My parents always answered my questions openly, and so I knew all about the theory… Contraception, too, of course. I had my children when I wanted them, not when they surprised me… Hermione looked at him with narrowed eyes. "And later, uhm, you know, no one knows this, but I thought young witches and wizards could profit from a bit more non-technical education on the subject, so I wrote a book to help things along a bit, under a pseudonym of course, and it became an instant bestseller. Mind you, it's still a bit technical, but I thought… seeing as there is no Internet in the wizarding world where people can look things up easily… "
He just stared at her, unbelieving.
"Don't be so surprised. You should know that I can't let things rest when I find that improvement is needed." She grinned sheepishly.
"Indeed," he said. "So what is that pseudonym of yours?"
"It's Perdita Scharlach. And the book is 'The Lusty Witch'."
"Perdita Scharlach?" He stared and tried to remain cool and detached, but he could feel his lips twitching. After a while, he couldn't keep up the pretence any longer and laughed out loud. "This is brilliant," he wheezed between chuckles.
"You're the first person who understands the name," she said and gave him an odd look. "No one else did, and no one made the connection. Which is what you'd want from a pseudonym, I suppose."
He sighed and drew her closer. "You're amazing, you know that?" he murmured just before she moved further up on top of him and kissed him. And then they showed each other just how much they enjoyed a bit of experimentation.
Three weeks later, Severus sat opposite Hermione at the breakfast table in his house and wondered idly if they were now considered a couple or not. They never talked about feelings. They arranged a time and place, spent some time together with an activity they both enjoyed, talked, laughed, and had sex. Good, exciting sex, at that. It was what he had wanted, and he knew he should be content, but he wasn't. He had the reliable sex, but the emotion and the drama were still missing. He had fallen in love with Hermione quite some time ago, head over heels, but he still didn't know how she felt about him. And he feared that talking about feelings would ruin what they had.
They had shared their experiences as single war heroes and found that they were in rather similar dilemmas where their love lives were concerned. Being with each other didn't pose the same problems as being with other people did. They did get along well but weren't old friends, and so Hermione had no fear of ruining an old friendship. They were both single; they were both heroes; they were ideal partners from a strictly logical point of view. However, for once, Severus didn't want to be logical. He was in love and wanted to be loved back. And, eventually, he would have to bring the topic up because going on like this for too long would just shatter his already fragile heart completely.
"How about the day after tomorrow?" Hermione asked, looking up from the paper.
Severus sighed. "Fine with me. Your place or mine?"
"Mine, if you don't mind. I have something I'd like to show you in Diagon Alley, on Friday afternoon. I could do with some advice, and if you like, we can have dinner together afterwards. My house is closer."
"Certainly. What is it that you want to show me?"
"I'm writing a new book. And you'll get all the details on Friday." She grinned.
"Very well. I thought that perhaps you'd market the vibrator, now?"
Hermione had told Severus about her vibrator project, but she also told him that she hadn't really needed it since she’d been seeing him. He had convinced her that two could use it just as well as one person could, much to her delight.
"No, not until after the book is published. The 'decent' wizarding world isn't ready for vibrators yet, and I'm not interested in selling it only in Knockturn Alley."