Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

BY : CryingCinderella
Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione
Dragon prints: 94326
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.


A/N: And so my muses of tragedy and fantasy have fled me in favor of the muses of whimsy and whatnot. So The Fantasy Book and The Last 24 Hours of Severus Snape are taking a brief pause, but I'm working through them. In the meantime, I do hope you're enjoy this series of amusing dilemmas.  And forgive me for not being able to work without my muses. 


          She wasn’t sure which was tighter; the fist that held the crumpled flier or the terse scowl upon her lips. “But you’ve already said that—”

            “No, no, I’m sorry— I know what I said, Hermione, but no.” George Weasley, who was looking slightly more than flabbergasted stood in the back office of the shop that he and his brother had made into a booming success. It was ten ‘til six and he’d just closed the shop twenty minutes prior. His gaze was hardly as stern as it needed to be and when Hermione Granger did not move from the doorway of the back office he sighed. “Hermione…”

            “You’ve already said that no one else responded to the advertisement except Ginny! How could I possibly be more awkward than your sister?” she accused him, her voice hot and bothered as she tugged slightly at the collar of her robes. The tiny back office was quite warm; a side-effect of one of the newer products that a customer had been testing just before the shop had closed for the day. “I’m not related!”

            “I know that!” George cried. “But you almost were— and mum still thinks of you as—”

            “There is no reason why your mother has to know that I’m the girl you hired to test out this new line, George.” Her firm tone seemed to floor him into silence, at least momentarily. She slowly unclenched her fist from around the crumpled piece of paper she’d ripped from the back of The Daily Prophet. “Seeking— one mature witch willing to be a test sample for a line of adult novelty products. Must be at least twenty-one, comfortable working naked, and being seen by two males. Must not object to working with hired male partner,” she read it over. “Pay will be discussed upon inquiry of the proprietor of the—”

            “I know what the bloody ad says, Hermione. I put it in there,” he said. George shook his head. “Look, I just— it can’t be you, alright?”

            “Well why the hell not, George?” Hermione crossed her arms in indignation, looking even more furious than she had the moment before. She met the qualifications; she was old enough, far more mature than most witches her age, and while she wasn’t particularly comfortable naked, it was George and after all, he had turned out to be gay. She couldn’t fathom a single reason why she wouldn’t suit exactly what the advertisement had asked for.

            “You’re just— Hermione, you were almost my sister. So it’s like having Ginny respond to the ad, only— it’s you.” George shook his head. He was shocked and had nearly choked on the toffee he had been testing when his sister had shown up in response to the ad. And when she’d discovered that he had placed it and not one of his clients she quickly decided against it. “And besides, you and Ron—”

            “Are over, George.” Her voice leveled off into a more serious flat sound. “We’re not getting back together, at this point we’ll be lucky if we can salvage a friendship out of the mess.” They’d been split for nearly a year and despite his many attempts to rekindle a romantic flame with her, Ronald Weasley had only managed to push her further and further away. “There’s no chance that I’m going to become your sister unless Ginny ditches Harry and becomes a lesbian or you go straight and take me on,” she said with a bit of a teasing grin playing at the corners of her lips. “And I’m not likely to become a lesbian just because my best friend’s girlfriend wants me to…and you’re not likely to go straight,” she added.

            George rolled his eyes. “There’s still Charlie, you know.”

            Hermione rolled her eyes. “Charlie’s too old. And besides when is he ever around to be picking up anyone let alone me?”

            George frowned at this. “You think Charlie’s too old?” he asked.

            Hermione paused for a moment and tilted her head to the side. “I don’t rightly know how old he is, come to think of it,” she said, pondering her vast knowledge of all facts that were Weasley related. “I imagine he’s nine or ten years older than me,” she said with a slight shrug.

            “He’s actually only about seven,” George corrected her. “Does age matter all that much to you?” he asked seeming oddly curious.

            Again she found herself pausing, pondering this notion over in her mind. “Well, I suppose it would depend on the bloke, I certainly wouldn’t go mucking around with someone Dumbledore’s age,” she said and smiled a bit. “But I suppose seven isn’t so bad…it’s not even a full decade.”

            “How about nineteen years?”

            This brought a slight frown to her lips. “Which one of your brothers is nineteen years my senior— surely not Bill…he’s only two years older than Charlie, I thought…or maybe I’m wrong,” she said, letting a puzzled look sweep across her face, her brow furrowed in concentration as she again dug back in her file of notes on Weasley facts.

            “No, not Bill,” he shook his head and then sighed. “The bloke who responded to the male side of the ad. The one you’ll be working with alongside me in testing out this line of products.”

            “I didn’t know there was a male advertisement, but I suppose that makes sense considering—” Hermione’s words screeched to a halt and her eyes widened considerably. “You mean you’ll hire me?” she asked, practically gushing with giddiness. “Oh, George!” she surged forward, throwing her arms around his larger frame, squeezing him tightly as she did. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! You’ve no idea! Honest!” she grinned.

            George ran a hand through his hair. It needed trimming but his mind was focused on other things. “You say that now, but you haven’t met your…co-worker, for lack of better words,” he muttered. “You can start tonight if you like; he’s already upstairs in the workshop.”

            “Oh!” Hermione seemed a bit surprised to hear this. She hadn’t realized it would be a hire on the spot job but she had no plans outstanding for the evening. “That’s fine, should we discuss salary?” she asked.

            “Right, sure,” he said and then nodded for her to move out of the doorway of the back office. “Thirty galleons for every evening you spend testing products, Fred had a load of them all lined up- he had a complete line everything you could think of…for women, for men, for couples…it’s incredible…and if they work, I’m not sure what phase some of them are in, some of them may still need work, others are just ideas that I’m going to have to put together and having you two to model them around will help,” he rambled slightly as he lead her across the shop to the large spiraling staircase that led up to the second level. “But thirty galleons every night we test, and if you’re able I’d like to do it more weekends than not…probably not Saturdays as the shop is open from nine 'til nine and after being here twelve hours all I want to do is hit the sac when I’ve finished.”

            Hermione nodded her head, listening to him, drinking in every word he said. She would worry about not being so embarrassed later. Her mind was working double time, thinking about how her body might respond to these products and what her partner, whom she had yet to meet, would think of her or how his body would respond. All of this plus listening to George caused her to plow right into his backside when he stopped abruptly at the top of the steps. “Sorry,” she muttered.

            He waved it off and then nodded to the little alcove just across the floor from the landing. “I’ve been remodeling that space there. It was a storage closet…but now it’s going to be the home of the adult line…with glowing beaded curtains and an age charm similar to what Dumbledore used for keeping us out of the Goblet of Fire.”

            “Brilliant,” she said with a grin. She followed him across the top floor of the store where some of the larger novelty items were kept, moving all the way across and over to a much tinier straighter and far more narrow staircase that led up. “Isn’t that where your flat is?” she asked.

            “Yes, but you’ll notice halfway up,” he gestured. “That door that shouldn’t rightly be there. That’s the workshop. All of our products that we’re developing and testing and tinkering with are kept in there. It’s really quite spacious, if a bit cluttered at the moment. But I’ve gotten all of the adult products organized into boxes and categories, or at least as many as I’ve found so far,” he said.

            She nodded. “And he’s there?” she asked, curiosity punctuating her voice.


            “My…co-worker, as you called him. He’s up there? In the workshop?”

            “Oh, right. Yes, he is. He got here about an hour before closing…and as he was the only one to respond to the male ad…I’ve had it out nearly a month now…well, like you, what other choice did I have?” he shrugged.

            This made her frown slightly. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she’d been picked because she had been the only applicant to the position aside from his sister. A job was a job however she had ended up qualifying for it. “I still don’t understand why you aren’t testing these products yourself, George.”

            As he reached the half landing that led into the door to the workshop he paused and turned to face her with the first grin he’d worn since she initially entered the shop just as he was closing up. “Most of these products are designed for women and couples, and I know fuck all about what looks good on women, and I’m hard pressed to find a date as it is…let alone bring him up to the workshop to nut around with toys and novelty stuff,” he shrugged with his lopsided grin fading just slightly. “And whatever I try on me I might think is great…or garish when in reality it might be horrid or brilliant. Second and third set of eyes never hurts.”

            His reasoning made sense and she simply nodded her head, following him into the workshop. It was much larger than the placement of the door made seem possible. But she grinned as she stepped through the doorway and into the vastly cavernous space. “This is incredible,” she murmured, eyes darting to and fro not sure what to focus on first. There were shelves stacked high with all sorts of prototypes and models, jars of ingredients, boxes of things, several large work tables, design charts and a large drafting desk. Her eyes were glancing about so quickly, moving from one thing to the next with eager fascination that she did not notice the tall man approach them until he’d addressed them.

            “Mr. Weasley,” he said his voice a low flat sound that nearly made Hermione jump out of her skin.

            “Professor?” she cried in sheer surprise, unable to hide her startled response as her eyes grew even wider. “What on earth are you doing up here?” she asked, realizing the stupidity of the question the moment after it had left her lips.

            For a moment silence hung in the air. And George was about to intercede but Severus Snape raised his hand slightly, a subtle dismissal to the redhead and then he nodded to Hermione. His voice lacked its usual acerbic bite and when he spoke it was rather plainly. “I imagine, Miss Granger, the same thing that you are, responding to Mr. Weasley’s advertisement,” he nodded to George. “And the title hardly applies any longer,” he added.

            “Erm,” she blushed furiously, turning to glance pleadingly at George. “Right,” she said. “Sorry.”

            George couldn’t help but grin a bit as he looked at Hermione. “Hermione Granger, I’m sure you already know, Severus Snape,” he said making semi-formal introductions. Nobody extended hands to be shaken. George took a careful step around Hermione and then walked over to a clearing near one of the mostly empty work tables. “This is going to be our primary working station,” he said. “I’ve got a few products all ready and lined up for testing tonight, actually if you two want to get started,” he said, and then moved over to what looked like a makeshift chest of drawers that had been drawn out of chalk and somehow erected into the third dimension of existence.

            Hermione was frozen to her spot, unable to take her eyes off of the tall and surly man who stood before her. Though she noted absently in the recesses of her mind that he didn’t seem so surly, if anything he looked slightly nervous. He was donned in the only thing she had ever seen the man wear; many high collared, long-sleeved layers of black. From the tight cuffs that covered his wrists right up to the base of his hand all the way down to the tightly laced black boots he was cloaked in the ebony color; leaving only his hands and his face exposed to the room’s light.

            “Come on then,” George said and pulled open the first drawer on the chest, rummaging around in it for a moment. He paused and walked across the workshop to the drafting table, picking up a large leather-bound tome that had loose pages tucked into it everywhere. He summoned a quill and a pot of no-tip ink and set them both on the edge of the table, flipping the book open to a blank chart. “This is so I can record product description, take notes, make notes about modifications and such…get your reaction, and yours,” he nodded to Severus and then set the quill in the pot of ink before returning to the drawer.

            Hermione watched as her former Potions professor glided across the room, stopping just at the edge of the work table. That was the first things she noticed to be slightly off about the man; there was no billowing black cloak in his wake as he had walked. In fact she noticed that his outermost layer of clothing appeared to be the long black frock coat which he wore under his teaching robes on days when they were brewing potions. She tried to think back to the last time she had seen him in the potions classroom and she found her mind to be slightly fuzzy.

            After a moment she realized that as she had been lost in her thoughts they were now both staring at her, waiting for her to join them. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I was thinking about something,” she said, not bothering to explain what. Quick steps that were not the long elegant sweeping gait of her former professor brought her over to stand just beside the man, expectant eyes looking at George.

            “I don’t really have a method to my order,” he shrugged. “I’ve sorted products into three categories…completed needs testing…mostly completed…and needs work,” he said gesturing to the chest behind him. “This chest has completed and mostly completed— or that’s the assumption I’m making based on Fred’s notes,” he said and pulled a large green book from a nearby shelf. “This was the log he was keeping for product development of the adult line,” he said and placed it down on the tabletop beside the large charting ledger. “So it should make things a bit easier.”

            “Indeed,” said Severus. It was the first thing he had said since addressing her a few moments prior. “And I presume payment will be made upon completion of tonight’s testing?” he asked.

            “Of course,” said George and then he drew his wand from his back pocket, summoning over three wooden stools. He took one and slid it under his backside before sitting down on it. “Severus, you can have a seat, this first product is a lady’s product,” he said nodding to Hermione.

            She did her best not to blush. Of course it is, she thought. “Right…so…how do I…” Hermione trailed off, her voice far more level than she’d imagined it would be.

            George reached up into the drawer and pulled out three jars of what looked like finger paint. “Er…mostly a lady’s product,” he said and looked at Severus. The dour man simply nodded his head, an understanding passing between the two men that Hermione found she did not like in the least. It made her uneasy, more so than the notion of having to potentially be naked in front of her former professor.

            George flipped through the pages of the green book and landed in an intricate two page entry about the three little pots of colored paint that now sat before him in the middle of the table. “Novelty Nipple Mousse,” he said, reading the title from where Fred had scrawled it into the pages of the book. “Designed to titillate and tease turning your lovers nipples crazy colors and funky flavors,” he said and frowned. “Perhaps that she be reworded to fantastic flavors…I don’t know that people want to think about tasting anything funky in the bedroom,” he made a quick note of this in the green book before nodding to the three jars.

            Hermione could already feel her heart racing. But she needed the money and so drawing in a deep breath she reached forward and picked up the jar of sprightly green colored paint. “How does this work?” she asked, turning over the little pot in her hand several times. It was sealed with a silver screw lid and otherwise unmarked.

            George flipped the page in the green book and skimmed the information. “Rub a small amount into the area of nipple and areola and it should effectively turn the nipple and areola the color that you see…with a corresponding flavor,” he traced his finger over the page. “This says lime. And then lime is crossed out with a single line and it says mint. And then mint is scratched through with several marks and it says lime/mint with a question mark behind it.” George frowned. “Leave it to Fred not to be able to make up his mind.”

            Severus had taken a seat on the stool and was facing George with Hermione standing between them. “Right then,” she said trying not to look over to her co-worker as she set the little pot back on the table. “And the other two?” she asked nodding to the bright gold and fluorescent pink pots.

            “Well let’s test the one first and we’ll see what they’re meant to be, this could be total rubbish and not work at all,” he said with a shrug.

            “Right,” Hermione repeated herself and then drew in another deep trembling breath. Closing her eyes she slowly pulled the jumper up over her body and handed the blue garment to George. He tossed it behind him, an extendable arm of a hook that had been mounted to the wall reached out and caught it. She was nervous but tried not to let her nerves show as she slowly peeled her white shirt up over her frame, revealing her torso to both men. While it would have been a little odd being topless in front of George it was terribly embarrassing to think that she was about to be so in front of Severus Snape.

            The room was silent save for her rapid breathing, which she tried to calm so that her chest was not heaving quite so hard. Trembling fingers moved to hand him her shirt, which George tossed behind him to join her jumper. Hermione closed her eyes, reaching up behind her to deftly unhook the three metal clasps of her bra. She was not by any means a large-breasted woman; 34-B at best, though her breasts were perky. As she carefully slid out of the bra and watched it join her other clothing she couldn’t help but glance over to her former professor.

            Much to her surprise he was not staring at her now naked torso. Severus Snape was sitting with his hands folded neatly in his lap, his head tilted slightly downward, eyes gazing at his fingers. This allowed her a little relief as she turned and unscrewed the green pot lid. The contents inside looked like thick whipped cream only in a rich shade of emerald green. Dipping one finger into the stuff she scooped a glop of it up and brought it beneath her nose, inhaling gently. “There’s no scent,” she frowned.

            George shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe there isn’t a scent because he couldn’t decide between mint or lime,” he said and then gazed at Hermione expectantly.

            She rubbed her finger in slow deliberate circles around her areola, crossing over her nipple a few times until the mousse had absorbed into her skin. Immediately her nipple was stiffened from the contact, a taut pebble standing perky forward; and it was indeed a rich emerald shade of green.

            “That’s a good start,” he said. “We’ll use that nipple for the single effects, and then we can test layering on your right nipple,” he said as if it were the most common thing to say to someone who was half naked and painting herself with novelty sex cream. “Severus?” he asked.

            He lifted his head to gaze at her breast and in that moment Hermione felt her whole body heat under his simple scrutiny. She tilted her head upward slightly so that she didn’t have to watch him examining her. The stool scraped lightly against the hardwood floor as he stood and took the four steps to stand directly in front of her. Hermione gasped slightly but quickly forced her lips shut as his large rough palm slid under her breast and lifted it as if it were a piece of fruit he were examining at the grocer.

            Her whole body tingled from his touch; the rough calluses of his palm stimulating the underside of her breast as his fingers curled against the side. She held her breath as he continued to gaze at her now shiny emerald nipple and areola. “Its coloration is even, not splotchy and it doesn’t smear outside the line of the areola,” he said. Her lungs burned as she continued to hold her breath, but her whole body stiffened as he placed the pad of his slender index finger at the top of her areola and slowly traced it around the circumference. Pulling his finger back, Severus gazed at it momentarily. “It it does appear to stay in place, no smearing or transfer.”

            “Right,” George said, furiously scribbling every word spoken into the large charting ledger. “Appealing color?”

            “For her coloration, yes, it offsets the darkness of her hair and eyes,” he said flatly.

            Hermione was nearly dizzy and beside herself. Had he just complimented her? It was then she realized she’d still been holding her breath and not wanting to blackout she slowly exhaled through the corner of her mouth, her lungs tingling as she then inhaled once more. His hand slid back from her and her breast rested once more in its natural position against her chest.

            “What does it taste like?” George asked, looking up from the ledger.

            Hermione flushed. She hadn’t thought to stick her finger against her tongue before smearing it over her nipple. She shifted slightly to reach for the pot but froze entirely as she watched Severus Snape slowly lean forward, and then press one hand to the side of her breast, half cupping it upward. It happened in slow motion right before her very eyes and she still did not believe it. The brush of the tip of his nose against the soft malleable flesh of her breast, the slight exhale of his warm breath shooting across her skin and then his lips, thin but firm, slowly closing around her areola, tugging it slightly forward into his mouth. She inhaled sharply, shocked as the flat of his tongue slipped a slow circle around her nipple, once and then again in the opposite direction.

            Slowly he pulled back, catching her eyes for a fleeting second before turning to face George. “Nothing,” he said. “No hint of mint or lime, not even a chemical or product residue,” he said.

            More scratching of the quill to the paper filled her ear but she could hardly hear it for the blood thrumming through her ears. Her nipple was slightly moist, glistening not only from the emerald coloring but from the slight pass of his tongue. Hermione couldn’t help herself as she shivered. George’s voice broke her reverie. “I’ll have to work on that one,” he said. “I think mint would be more satisfying…but that’s just me,” he shrugged.

            “Lime would have to be sweetened in order to not leave a bitter taste in one’s mouth…and sugary lime flavor tends to taste fake, in my opinion,” Severus said. George nodded his thanks and made a note of this as well.

            “Here,” he said, waving his wand and summoning a little clear plastic spray bottle with a white kerchief. “This is an all-purpose solvent of sorts, one spritz, wipe with the cloth and the green should go away,” he said and then handed the bottle and the cloth to Hermione.

            Her fingers trembled as she took them, but her body seemed to be on autopilot as she sprayed the nozzle against her nipple and then wiped away the green coloring completely in just one pass of the kerchief. “Right,” she said, voice as shaky as her hands. “Should I do the— the gold or the pink?” she asked. She was certain her cheeks were flushing and even more certain that at any moment her former professor was going to mock her.

            But he said nothing and the next words to break the silence of the room were George’s, telling her to try the gold one next. Unscrewing the gold lid she repeated the process of rubbing it into her nipple watching as the pigmentation of her areola and the taut little bud changed to a shimmering gold hue.

            “This one is not as strong a color, it’s more like gold glitter than gold color,” Severus said as he once again slid his hand under her breast, his shoulder— clad in all its dark layers— brushing against her naked one. He traced his finger across her nipple, noting with a nod that the color did not stain him. “It is not unattractive but would be better suited if it were more solid and less…shimmery…or glittery, what have you,” he said and then gazed over her shoulder at George. “Does it have a listed flavor?”


            Again Hermione found herself holding her breath as he slowly lowered his head to her breast. It was an inhale of his lips that stole the heat from across the top of her breast, causing her to shiver and then jolt slightly when he pressed his lips once again over her sensitive nipple. His tongue was slow and deliberate as it crossed over her nipple, pausing to gently lap at the bud before he pulled back entirely.

            “Honey?” George asked hopefully.

            “Not so much,” Severus frowned. “It is sweet, a definite flavor…but it tastes more like sugar with a faint cake like quality to it…perhaps baking sugar mixed with flour or eggs,” he said. “But not honey.”

            “Hrm…” George was nibbling thoughtfully on the tip of his quill. “Can you make that description less vague?” he asked. “Instead of trying to reformulate…maybe I can just remarket,” he said. “Sugary cake?” he asked. “Though that sounds dreadful.”

            Severus paused a moment, again catching Hermione’s eye for the briefest of glimpses, not lingering in her gaze long enough for her to read anything in his own eyes. And then he lowered his head once more. The sudden assault of his tongue sweeping circles over her nipple caught her off-guard and she squeaked slightly. He pulled back almost instantly and frowned gazing up at her. “Sorry,” he said. “I did not mean for that to cause discomfort.”

            Discomfort my arse, she thought trying desperately not to blush. “It’s— it’s fine, just wasn’t prepared,” she said sheepishly, and then quickly turned her head to gaze at George, eyes closed, lips forced solidly together. But her lips parted into the subtlest of o-rings as she felt his tongue once more, this time slow wide licks over the area of her areola, ignoring her nipple entirely. Stop thinking about why he’s ignoring your nipple this is product testing not pleasure Hermione 101. Her mind was indeed being cruel but thankfully a moment later his deliciously velvet tongue had been removed from her breast and she was all too eager to grab the spray bottle and cloth, wiping away the golden glitter color.

            “I think with a bit more substance, a hint of vanilla and a touch less sugar you might be able to get away with calling it something like Cake Batter or Golden Cake,” Severus’s voice was low but even as he addressed George.

            “Right,” said George, who was completely un-phased by the extremely sexual display he’d just witnessed. As if that sort of thing occurred regularly in his shop’s workshop; he continued to make notes in both the ledger and the green book. “Pink now, please,” he said and then nodded to Hermione. “You’re doing great, are you feeling alright? Both of you?” he asked.

            “Yes, I’m fine,” she lied, hoping that her slight smile was convincing. She wasn’t sure which disturbed her more; the fact that Severus Snape, her former professor, had just been laving his tongue over her pebbled nipple or the fact that her body seemed to very much enjoy the attention she had received. “Actually, do you have water, my throat’s a bit dry,” she said.

            “Of course,” George waved his wand and summoned her a glass of water, which she drank all too greedily. “And you’re alright?” he asked looking at Severus. The man only nodded his head and then stood back a step to allow Hermione room to apply the pink mousse.

            This mousse was particularly garish in her opinion; who in their right mind wanted hot pink nipples? But she kept her mouth shut and simply gazed at Severus who thankfully seemed to be of the same opinion. “I personally do not find the appeal to fluorescent pink nipples, but to each their own,” he shrugged his shoulders and gently ran his finger around the perimeter of her areola. And then he frowned. “This one smears a bit,” he said. “Not as solid as the first two.” 

            George continued to scribble in the ledger and then glanced over into the green book. “Watermelon— watermelon?” he asked, gazing at her brothers notes as if he half expected Fred to pop up from the book and explain the bizarre pairing of color and flavor. “Well, watermelon, then,” he said.

            Hermione had closed her eyes, not trusting herself to watch him as he slowly lowered his head to her breast, this time pausing a moment, his nose brushing slightly against her areola as he inhaled. “It has a slight plastic fruit scent to it, whereas the others did not,” he said and then ever so slowly he tilted his head to the side and carefully drew his tongue across her nipple without bringing his lips around her areola as he had done before. He pulled back nearly immediately, frowning. “It has a chemical residue to it; plastic fruit and paint,” he said with a slight hint of disgust in his voice.

            “Bullocks,” George hissed and then shook his head. “Bloody Fred and bloody watermelon,” he muttered. “It’s one of the hardest flavors to capture naturally in any sort of confection or product,” he muttered more to himself than to the two of them.

            Hermione blushed a bit as Severus straightened up. “You’ve got a spot of pink just there,” he said gesturing toward the side of his nose.

            “It figures,” he muttered and then took the kerchief that she had been using to clear the mousse with and sprayed it lightly with the clear plastic spray bottle. He dabbed it gently against his nose and the pink vanished from his skin. “Here,” he said and then handed her the cloth, their fingers brushing together for a moment.

            Tingles shot up her spine as she felt his fingers; that almost nonexistent touch and then his hand was gone as if it had never been there. She wiped her nipple clear of the pink mousse and then turned to look at George. “You said something about layering on my right nipple?” she asked hesitantly.

            “No no, we’ll have to save that for when I’ve gotten these three more solidified. It won’t do me any good to see if they layer properly when the first one doesn’t have a flavor the second one’s coloring and flavor is off and the third one is basically bunk,” he said with a bit of a shrug. “You can slip your shirt back on if you want while I make a few notes,” he said.

            Hermione had darted almost immediately over to the hook that held her clothes. Foregoing the bra she slipped back into the simple white blouse and then crossed her arms over her chest, feeling better with the layer covering her body.

            “Suggestion?” Severus said idly, having completely ignored her abrupt departure.

            “Hmm?” George asked, not looking up from his quill.

            “The emerald one was very lovely on its own I’m not entirely sure it needs a fragrance or flavor…especially given the disappointment of the flavors of the other two,” he said.

            George sighed. “I’ll note that…maybe just basic colors at first, though it’ll be good to have them tested like this— there’s nothing worse than something like this that ends up tasting like the pink one did,” he said and then carefully pulled the three pots toward him, resealing them and then marking them on the top with the quill. “Alright…um, another one for you, Hermione, but more assistance from Severus,” he said and turned around and began to dig in the drawer.

            Hermione walked back over to the table. She paused a moment and looked at George. “I need to take my shirt back off, don’t I?” she asked.

            “Actually, no you can leave it on, this is a product intended for downstairs,” he paused after a moment and then gave her a slightly worried glance. “Hermione, how do you wear yourself downstairs?”

            She flushed furiously at this question, turning her head to the side so that she no longer had to look at him. Drawing in a steadying breath despite the burning heat in her cheeks she tilted her head slowly back toward George. “Erm, natural, I suppose?” she whispered, her voice squeaking slightly.

            “Good,” he said and made a note in the ledger. “This will certainly spice that up then,” he said with a bit of a smile on his lips as he reached into the same open drawer and pulled out a long slender black box. Lifting the lid he revealed the contents to them both. Four little plastic vials; three of them with various things inside, and a specialized nozzle on the top, the fourth bottle having a clear fluid in it. A long slender fine toothed brush that curve slightly with a connector nozzle on the handle rested atop them in the box.

            “Oh my,” she said. “Styling products for— for downstairs?” she asked a bit incredulously, her question doing little to quell the already furious blush in her cheeks.

            “Not exactly, well, sort of, novelty styling— well, here,” he said and began to read the description Fred had logged in the green book. “Fantasy Feathers Comb and Color…don’t ask why it’s called Fantasy Feathers I honestly think Fred just liked the letter ‘F’,” he paused a moment, cleared his throat and continued to read. “A delightful way to spice it up for your lover, simply attach one of the unique design vials to the comb, work through your lady locks and voila!” George chuckled. “And it says men’s line coming soon…and now that I think about it, I recall seeing a box like that— hang on,” he hopped up from the stool and moved across the workshop to the far side, rummaging through a large trunk on the floor.

            “Well…this will be…erm, interesting,” Hermione said still unable to look Severus in the eye.

            “Indeed,” he said without so much of a hint of emotion in his voice.

            George returned a moment later with an identical box only this one had a large golden male symbol etched into the box lid. “Right, we can test them together, two for one and that way I’ll know what needs work without having to come back to it later,” he said. Severus simply nodded. “You do have hair downstairs as well then?” he asked.

            He didn’t spoke, only nodded his head again and then slowly brought his fingers to the black belt and silver clasp that held it in place. Each meticulous movement brought him one step closer to having his trousers undone. Hermione turned around, blushing more then, certain that her face was bright pink, perhaps even the same color as the failed watermelon mousse. George’s voice stopped them both.

            “We’ll do Hermione first since this product line was developed first…there’s no sense in getting you both mucked up if the ones he created initially for women don’t work out,” he said and then nodded to the table. “Take your jeans and knickers off and hop up on the table when you’re ready, Hermione.”

            She swallowed hard. It had been one thing for them to see her breasts; Severus having to touch and lick at her nipples, but to expose herself in her most private area; that made her squirm uncomfortably for a moment. You need the money, you need the money, you need the money, her mind chided her and slowly she popped the button on her jeans and shimmied out of them. Her white blouse was a bit longer and with a simple charm she hiked it up and held it in place above her naval. This left her standing in a pair of plain white knickers. Drawing her lower lip between her teeth she sunk her canine down into the plump petal and slowly pulled her knickers down, stepping out of them and hopping immediately up onto the table.

            “Great,” said George, as if he was a doctor in a gynecologist’s office. “Now, Severus, take the stool, and, Hermione, spread your thighs a bit so he can sit between them,” he said. She tipped her head back trying to make the flush flee her cheeks as she slowly parted her thighs, praying silently that he wouldn’t comment on the fact that she was slightly damp. But if he noticed or cared he didn’t make mention of it as he dragged the stool over to the table and sat on it with her thighs spread widely on either side of his body.

            “Is there a particular order in which this should be done?” he asked, plucking the plastic brush from the box. He picked up the first vial, a bottle of sky blue glossy fluid and carefully snapped it into place on the brush. “First one first?” he asked.

            “Sure,” said George with a shrug, watching as Severus slowly brought the brush up to the top of Hermione’s pubic curls. Indeed she was natural, long thick curls covering her mound entirely but not wild and unruly. A long languid stroke of the brush from the top of her mound down to her lips had her shifting a bit. “What’s the matter?” George asked.

            “It tickles a bit,” she blushed, trying to sit still as Severus began to stroke the brush once more through her pubic locks.

            “It’s not tugging or catching?” George asked, once more his face buried in the ledger.

            “No…it just…ooh!” she cried as she glanced down at her mound. Severus had placed the plastic brush beside her on the table. “Oh Merlin,” she muttered, flushing again. Her pubic curls were no longer the dark brown color of the hair upon her head but a bright whimsical blue, the same shade as faerie floss. “Now that’s just silly,” she muttered.

            Hermione was shocked when she noted the slight smile tugging at the corners of Severus’s lips. He turned his head to George. “This one should be aptly called Cotton Candy Cunt,” he said with a bit of a smirk. Hermione gasped and George snorted.

            “Bit crass, but I’ll give it a think,” he said and then continued scribbling in his ledger. “Does it change the texture any?” he asked.

            Severus glanced up at her, catching her eyes and holding her gaze for a moment as if asking for permission, despite having licked at her breasts and brushed hair dye through her sex without so much as batting an eye. But after a moment of his intense gaze she nodded her head and he slowly brought his hand up to rest against her mound. Severus raked his fingers gently through her curls and then closed his eyes. “It’s very wispy…soft, rather like down, actually,” he said. “I’m not sure whether that is accurate though, I didn’t think to feel her before we started,” he said.

            Brushing his hand aside Hermione touched her brightly colored pubic hair and blushed a bit, a soft giggle escaping her lips. “It is rather…erm…like you said, like down,” she could feel her cheeks staining crimson. “So yes, changes the texture immensely,” she added and then looked away.

            “Does the spray solvent work for this as well?” Severus asked, picking up the spray bottle and kerchief, handing them to Hermione.

            “It should,” George said not looking up from his frantic scribbling.

            Hermione carefully applied three spritzes of the solvent to her pubic hair and after a few passes with the cloth her hair was once again the normal dark brown coarse curls they had been before he’d applied the first tube. “It’s empty,” said Severus as he snapped the tube from the brush. “So these are one use then,” he added and George nodded, continuing to flash his quill between the inkpot and the parchment in the ledger.

            Severus plucked the next little plastic vial up from the box and snapped it into place. It appeared to be a swirl of colors. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and then turned back to Hermione, this time not bothering to wait for silent permission as he began to slowly brush her curls.

            “Ooh!” she cried again. “It tingles just a bit— like a little zap— oh!” her voice was sharp as she gazed down between her legs, Severus having finished the application. She slapped her hand over her eyes and dragged it slowly down over her nose until her palm covered her mouth. “It’s a bloody rainbow,” she murmured into her hand, the sound muffled against her fingers.

            “Indeed,” said Severus staring casually at the arch shape that had been carved into her pubic hair. It still covered a large amount of her mound, but there was a clear bare distinction around the edges of the shape as if someone had taken the time to intricately shave the shape into her thatch of hair. The hair itself was streaked in the colors of a banded rainbow. “Smooth,” he said gently pressing his finger to the bare patch under the arch.

            “The hair?” George asked looking up.

            “No, it, you should see for yourself, Mr. Weasley,” he said.

            Hermione blushed but could not stop gaping at her own mound, the detailed shape standing perfect as if someone had stenciled it into place. The colors were vibrant to say the least. “Genius,” George said and slowly reached his hand forward, touching the same spot that Severus had touched. “We’ll be able to mark this up…one use or not, a product that gets her that smooth without shaving or stenciling…Merlin, my brother was an actual genius,” he beamed and then scurried quickly back to the ledger.  

            Severus slowly ran his fingers over the rainbow of her pubic hair and Hermione shivered, unable to help herself, this touch feeling somehow more intimate now that she was more exposed. “Softens the hair, but not to the extent that the first one did,” he said simply and then again handed her the kerchief and spray bottle.

            The third vial was blood red with glints of silvery glitter sparkling inside. Snapping it into place he’d barely waited for her to place the kerchief down before he began to stroke the brush through the rainbow colored curls. “Um…more tingling,” she said, her voice slightly breathy. She cleared her throat harshly. “But otherwise fine.”

            Severus pulled his hand back and placed the brush on the table once more. In the place where the large arching rainbow had been there was now a much smaller vibrant red heart. Again it was intricately carved and nearly one half of her pubic hair had been removed as if by a smooth waxing process. “I think that if these were used in reverse order the heart would be larger,” he said with a shrug and then idly ran his fingers through the heart. “It does sparkle which is a bit odd, but it could be good for Valentine’s Day or some other romantic occasion, anniversary wedding night, what have you.”

            “Right,” he said. “Still soft?” George asked.

            “Yes, though again, not as soft as the first one, but about the same as the rainbow,” he said and then repeated the process of undoing the now empty vial, handing her the kerchief and bottle and then snapping the last vial into place. He frowned. “This one looks like water,” he said.

            George began paging through the green book. “There’s no note about the fourth bottle,” he said. “Give it a try anyhow,” he suggested much to Hermione’s chagrin.

            With a slight shrug of his shoulders Severus began to brush through the heart, watching in awe as swipe after swipe seemed to denude her entirely of any remaining vestige of her pubic curls. “It’s tingling!” she said urgently. “A good deal more than the first— ooh!” she cried, gazing down at her naked mound. Both hands came to quickly cover her now denuded sex and her face was as red as George’s hair.

            Severus kept his face neutral but this did not stop the round of guffaws that echoed from George. “Sorry,” he said grinning ear to ear as he walked over to her. “Come on, let us see…if a little tingling is all you felt and it’s wax-smooth I’m going to be rich,” he said and then gently tapped her hand. “Come on,” he said.

            Narrowing her gaze at him she slowly pulled her hands away from her crotch, revealing her completely naked and smooth sex to both their eyes. George was first, placing his hand gently over her mound, trailing his fingers across it before pulling his hand back. He nodded to Severus, who repeated the gesture, but instead of pulling his hand back as he approached the curve of her lips, he slowly dragged his hand down, his palm cupping her labia. Hermione whimpered slightly, though his hand remained and after a moment he pulled back.

            Pleading eyes gazed at him and she was certain her whole body was blood red, but all he did was nod to George. “Completely smooth,” he said. There was no way he hadn’t felt the slick moisture that was all but dripping from her netherlips but he thankfully chose to say nothing, sparing her what little dignity she had left.

            “Right,” said George and then he hastily lifted the lid from the box intended for males. “Only two in this one, how boring,” he said nodding to the brush which was identical to the one Severus had just used on Hermione. George looked up at the time piece on the wall. “I think we can test this and then maybe just one more before calling it a night?” he said looking to his two test subjects.

            They both nodded silently. Hermione slid down from the table and quickly pulled her knickers up, not bothering with her jeans for the moment. She watched in awe as Severus carefully undid his trousers, and slid them down to his ankles, his boots preventing him from taking them all the way off. He wore a pair of black cotton boxer shorts and while she supposed this surprised her she said nothing. Of course she hadn’t given much thought to what Severus Snape wore in regards to undergarments. But before she could think on it further, said undergarment had joined his trousers and he had hopped up into the edge of the table, spreading his thighs wide, his flaccid member hanging on one side.

            She bit her lip as she slowly picked up the brush, avoiding looking at him. The last thing she wanted was for him to pop a hard-on, at least she’d been able to mostly hide her unintentional arousal, but his would be far more obvious. It made her swallow nervously when she snapped the first vial in place, a bright golden glittery liquid now atop the brush. Her eyes were unable to avoid his cock, limp as it was, but her breath hitched in her throat just the same.

            There was something forbidden about seeing him this way; his pants down around his ankles, his thick ebony pubic curls surrounding the base of his shaft, trailing up toward his naval and thinning into a line as they did. She was biting into her lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He was thick; even flaccid she could tell he was thicker around than what Ron had been. Thicker around than Harry as well; and slightly long, though she knew there was no judging size in a flaccid man’s cock.

            She placed the brush at the top of the thick mound of curls and slowly brushed downward, careful to maneuver around his cock as she did, until she’d managed to stroke through it entirely.

            “Tingling,” he muttered and then waited for her appraisal.

            Her combing had transformed him entirely. The thick black thatch of wiry curls were shaped, an intricate zigzag pattern that flowed in a bright golden hue diagonally down toward his cock, widening into an arrow tip at the sides. And like the arch of the rainbow and the shape of the heart had on her body, the remaining hair that was not part of the golden lightning bolt had been stripped smooth. “Wow,” she muttered. “You are going to make a fortune with this one,” she said, blushing a bit, trying not to linger too long on his crotch, her eyes daring only a fraction of a glance at his balls in the process.

            “Is it soft, Hermione?” George asked.

            She swallowed hard. Closing her eyes with trembling fingers she reached forward and gently brushed the pads of her fingers through the lightning bolt design. The back of her knuckles lightly grazed his cock and she felt him twitch slightly. That was enough for her to pull her hand back. “Y-yes,” her voice held the slightest of tremors. The golden curls were more than soft they were nearly like silk. “D-different from how you normally feel?” she asked, gazing up at him, his glittering black eyes boring into her eyes.

            “Yes,” he said, not having even touched the new design. Severus picked up the spray bottle and within moments the golden coloring had fled his pubic hair leaving it once again the wiry jet black. He nodded to her and Hermione hesitantly touched her fingers to the top of his pubic mound, the coarse texture of his curls even harsher than hers had been before she’d been stripped.

            She pulled her hand back quickly and began to fumble with the box. “There’s no clear vial, only this green one,” she said and then snapped the vial into the brush. As she worked it through the lightning bolt design she watched, again in awe, as his curls fell away from his body, vanishing into thin air before they ever hit the floor. “Oh wow,” she said blushing once more. “It’s erm…well…” Like the heart had been much smaller over her mound this design was a fraction of the size of the lightning bolt, and a bright green.

            “Shamrock,” he muttered. “For luck I suppose,” he said, touching the shamrock that had been carved into his pubic hair. “Indeed it does feel softer, though,” he said and then nodded to Hermione who touched the tiny four-leafed design of green curls just above the base of his shaft.

            “It does,” she whispered, letting her hand linger there for a moment longer than was reasonable for a test. Yanking her hand back she stood from the stool, giving him plenty of room to stand and adjust his clothes. She kept her back to him so whether or not he’d cleaned the green from what remained of his pubic hair she didn’t know.

            “This is actually bloody brilliant,” George said with a grin. “Now, just one more, I think, Hermione this one is for you,” he said and nodded to the table. “If you’ll hop up and take your knickers off,” he said.

            Slowly Hermione pulled her knickers down, stepping out of them again and she hopped up on the table, keeping her thighs pressed together until he told her otherwise. She noted that he had dressed his trousers once again firmly in place as if the odd little experimentation hadn’t happened. “Right,” she said turning back to George. “One more then?”

            George was grinning from ear to ear as he rummaged in the trunk. “This was one of my suggestions I just never thought he could actually do it,” he said pulling out a small box that looked like an oversized ring case. Upon popping it open it revealed a plump pair of lips. “Lip-n-Tongue Liberator,” he said his grin widening until it was nearly off his face.

            Hermione gazed at it wide-eyed. “Does it— oh, lord,” she said.

            “You bet,” he smirked. “But the point of testing it is to see how it compares to the real McCoy,” he said. Plucking the lips from the box he flipped them over in his hand, showing her the little switch and hand hold. “It has a mind of its own, says the notes, but essentially it should mimic a very skilled set of lips and one very talented tongue,” he said.

            Hermione turned her head away, blushing furiously, gazing down at the marble table upon which she sat. “I— I can’t,” she muttered.

            George frowned. “Why not?” he asked. “I mean, you don’t have to do it to— you know, finish or anything, just enough to see if it feels like the real thing,” he said. “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

            “If I may,” Severus said stepping over toward George. “I don’t believe Miss Granger is afraid, her embarrassment is flowing from her woeful lack of experience,” he said. But this only left George staring dumbfounded at his former professor. Severus rolled his eyes. “Miss Granger has never had the pleasures of having a lover lick between her lips,” he said flatly.

            “Merlin!” George cried. This only seemed to make Hermione blush harder. She crossed her legs tightly over one another and refused to look at George. “Is this true, Hermione? All those years with Ron and he never—”

            “No, George, he didn’t,” she spat bitterly. “So I’m afraid I won’t be much good in telling you whether or not it feels like the real deal,” she said.

            “Oh,” George frowned. “Erm, right,” he said with a shrug. “I guess that’s enough for tonight anyhow,” he said. “Why don’t you get dressed and come downstairs, we’ll get you both paid and I’ll see you tomorrow night?” he said. With another quick note in the ledger he nodded and then vanished out to the staircase.

            Hermione sighed, shuddering slightly. Hopping down from the table she dressed quickly, not bothering to re-hook her bra, stuffing it into the back pocket of her jeans. Severus, who was already dressed, remained silent and said nothing, following her down the stairs. They were both greeted by George at the door near the main entrance to the shop. “Right, 30 galleons each,” he said, handing them each a small purple satchel laden heavy with coins. “And I’ll see you both tomorrow evening when shop closes? Around six?” he said.

            Severus nodded and Hermione nodded as well. “Yes, that sound fine,” she said, trying not to notice how disappointed he looked. “Around six,” she repeated and then backed out into the street of Diagon Alley, disapparating before anything could be said to her otherwise. 



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