Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 131978 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
A/N: I know I promised many of you in the email update (not on the email list, you say? Add your email in your review and you’ll get an email about the next chapter— occasionally with teasers from the next installment!) that you would be introduced to a new character in this chapter, but I believe the way it’s played out, we will not see that character until Chapter 14. But there is a great deal more product testing in this chapter for those of you that have been waiting! This chapter actually derailed a bit from the plan toward the end, so our new character may not even make his way into Chapter 14 (I’m hoping…we shall see…) but I think those of you that are looking for more of the domesticity— you will be pleased with the inadvertent detour it’s taken. To Anon— after having my grammatical ass thoroughly handed to me, I’m not sure whether to be more frustrated with your asinine meticulous approach or my lack thereof. That said, I hope this chapter is more to your (and my) grammatical standards. 26,300 words enough for you guys?
                They did not talk about the shower sex. She had numbly went through the motions of cleaning herself off in the shower. When she’d wrapped up in towels and padded into the hallway his bedroom door was shut. She thought to knock on it once or twice, even perhaps to just enter his room. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. Not for a lack of wanting to do so, but rather a fear of what awaited her if he would see her. She might have knocked on the door half the night, him locked inside refusing to answer it. But that was a scenario she hadn’t faced. Instead she’d tossed and she’d turned on her mattress trying to make sense of what had happened.
                She could justify the spanking. Even though he’d laid her over his lap she could write that off as experimental. He had said something about changing the position, or perhaps she’d imagined him saying it. Either way it mattered very little by comparison to what had followed. She’d straddled herself over him, curiosity claiming the better of her senses and insisting she learn whether or not the spanking had aroused him. And she’d felt his arousal all too plainly; his thick cock had been hard at attention when she’d sank down into his lap. She knew she’d stained his trousers with her blood but for all the world he seemed not to notice let alone care.
                That was when she lost hold of how to justify her actions. He played her mind game better than she did and what had started out as intrigue and bold daring quickly slid down a slippery slope, well past a point of no return in the pit of carnal urges and desires that had consumed them both. There had been a kiss, the slightest hint of one before he’d pulled her into the shower. That was where she was stuck. The ephemeral whisper of lips against her own so subtle that she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t imagined it. And then the rebuke and rejection, which she’d misinterpreted, and then the shower.
                The sex in the shower. The exquisite rough and unrestrained sex that was filled with reckless abandon just like one of Ginny’s bodice ripping novels. Only it had been in the shower and it had been real. He’d kissed her then and made sure she was certain of his kiss, the rough tongue in her mouth, his fingers in her hair. The bruises had filled in as she’d predicted, staining the side of her thigh where he’d hoisted her leg up around his hip to fuck her. She imagined that his back was covered in little nail marks just between his shoulder blades. They’d clung to each other for a time afterward and it wasn’t until her words found their flight to his ear that he’d dismissed her.
                She tried not to think about how easily he stopped those words. How he seemed to sense exactly what she was going to say and kept her silent. Hermione tried not to think about how easily she had almost uttered them and how truly mad she must have gone to think that she believed it. Sleep had not found her at all that night so by midday she was beyond knackered. She hadn’t crossed paths with him in the kitchen or the bathroom or anywhere. She wasn’t even certain he had remained in the house, but she wasn’t about to go banging about just to check. If he wanted to speak with her, he would find her.
                Somewhere between late morning and early afternoon an owl arrived with a letter from George stating that they’d start a bit later that evening, closer to half six. The emergency at The Burrow had been less of an emergency and more of a peevish prank from the family poltergeist, but in Molly’s panic she had overreacted. Hermione was grateful that nothing was seriously wrong with Molly, The Burrow, or any member of the Weasley clan, but it did not settle her stomach in the least to think that in a few hours time she would be confronted with Severus for the first time since he’d parted the shower. She knew full well that he would not utter a word regarding their encounter in front of George Weasley, but that did little quell her nerves.
                The bleeding of her menses was trickling to an end and for that she was grateful. There were many downsides to a witch’s fully awakened menses, but the upside was that the overall time of bleeding was significantly shorter even if the symptoms and flow were much more severe. Another night and she’d be back to her normal self in regards to her womanhood. She could hardly wait.
                Hermione waited until quarter past six before getting herself ready and leaving Spinner’s End. Severus was still nowhere to be found. She didn’t let it concern her, though she had the sinking suspicion that she would not do as well concealing their involvement from the night before as he would. Though she wouldn’t bring it up, she knew working with him that night in the workshop would be very, very difficult. Drawing a deep breath, she pulled the door to Spinner’s End shut, took two steps down off the front stoop, and apparated to Diagon Alley.
                The shop was dim inside upon her arrival, but she knew that George was up in the workshop as she could see the door at the top of the stairs slightly ajar. She steeled her nerves and took the steps slowly. The unsettled discomfort of her stomach had nothing to do with the end of her cycle, but if it became apparent that she was ill at ease, she was fully prepared to blame it on such. When Hermione slipped into the workshop, she was surprised to see that the makeshift bed was still assembled. But she was even more surprised to see Severus seated upon it, already wearing his workshop robe.
                “Sorry I’m late,” she said and moved over to the hook where they hung their clothes.
                “Nah, you’re not late, Hermione. Right on time!” George seemed in good spirits and greeted her with his signature lopsided grin. He gestured to Severus. “I think we’re going to finish up that Week of Whips, as you called them. Five more to go, though Severus said he might need a pause or so after the first two.” George had pulled his little stool and ledger stand quite close to the bed. “I think they’re brilliant so far,” he said without really addressing that comment to anyone.
                Hermione watched as George moved around to the box that had held the various products meant to be geared toward oral sex and snogging. He removed the red silk from it and handed it to her. “We can use this again, I reckon. Get him tied back up proper so you can test the whips,” he nodded to Severus, who had already shrugged out of his robe and was lying back on the makeshift bed. “And he’s got the last two Jizz Juicers from that original packet should he achieve or need to achieve completion.” George sounded quite pleased with himself. “Between whips I’ve got a few things in that box there that we can work with if you’re still— well— you know,” he said sheepishly.
                She nodded her head. Nobody wanted to discuss her menstrual cycle, and that was fine with her. Though she couldn’t help but in that moment think about how Severus Snape hadn’t given a rat’s arse about it when he’d fingered her while he spanked her. Or when he fucked her senseless in the shower shortly thereafter. The memory sent a shiver up her spine, which she shrugged off as adjusting to the chill of the room as she donned her robe. She couldn’t fathom why she didn’t just stay in her day clothes, after all she was only going to be paddling and spanking him with the whips. But his words about leveling the playing field echoed in her mind and she realized that she did it, however subconsciously, to put herself at ease with him.
                Hermione tugged the ends of the red silk and watched in fascination as they once again split into three lengths and worked quickly to bind his legs up as they had the day before. They pulled the lower half of his body up off the bed, exposing his backside to her view. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to remember the things she had felt and what he had said about the different types of whips and crops. She was certain she would forget things, but the most important thing she had taken away from that lesson had been to alternate cheeks. If nothing else, he would be equally sore while she tested the remaining five whips.
                “Which one, George?” she asked.
                The red-head shrugged his shoulders. “Just pick one, I guess? We’ve already done Spades of Sunday and Friday’s Fantasy Flogger. Whichever one you fancy.”
                Hermione looked at the roll of whips on the table. She plucked the handle of a paddle from the third slot. It looked like a hybrid between a paddle and a two-tongued whip, where the paddle was split into two firm strips that looked a bit like rabbit ears. “Um— this one. The third slot.” she said, holding the handle firmly in her palm. It was wooden, covered in the same leather as the paddled end.
                “Third…third…ah. The Highland Tuesday Tawse,” he said, tracing his finger over the entry in the ledger. George read the entry. “The Highland Tuesday Tawse is old-school, modeled after school crops, perfect for role playing with your favorite naughty professor. The split-two tail design enhances the games with a delayed response and is firm enough to be used all over, from knuckles to the rear and back.”
                Hermione tried not to laugh at the product’s description, which was easy enough considering just how embarrassed she felt holding such a thing. An instrument of bondage and dominance was one thing; thinking about roleplaying as a student and a professor was something else entirely. She bit her lower lip and tried to chase the blush from her cheeks. “Er— delayed response?” she asked.
                George shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out in a minute. Have a go, then.” He said and turned his eyes to Severus, anticipating the wizard’s reaction.
                She nodded and took up her place standing just at the foot of the bed. Remember, alternate. This is like a paddle, so full firm strokes wide across, her mind instructed her. She tried not to moan thinking about the way the paddle had landed against her own arse as she had bent over the sink. She had begged him to spank her lower, wanting to feel the full weight of it at the dead center of her arse. Hermione closed her eyes to chase the memories from her mind lest she moan aloud and cause a scene. With the paddle’s end gripped firmly in her hand she lined up her arm and gave his arse a firm smack clear across the center, hitting both cheeks evenly.
                The split strips of leather landed against his flesh with a heavy smacking sound. She hadn’t pulled the paddle back but a second later the two tails flexed back of their own accord and landed taps against his skin. They were not nearly as full and as weighted as when she had swung the paddle, but they made just as loud a sound. Hermione was wide-eyed at this phenomenon. A paddle that could reverberate its own actions? This was mildly intriguing. She was careful as she pulled the paddle back, lowering it somewhat so that it would not land directly where it had before. Again she flipped her wrist firmly, the paddle landing a smooth blow across him. And just as it had before a split second later there were two firm thwaps from the split tailed leather.
                “How does it feel, Severus?”
                “Like a paddle that she’s managed to double and split,” he said through clenched teeth.
                “It’s spanking you on its own,” she said. “After I do, I mean. The split leather tails wait a moment after the paddle has connected and then they snap back like auto-launched rubber bands.”
                “Bloody brilliant,” George grinned. “And it feels alright? The secondary sting not too much?” he asked.
                Severus shook his head. She tried not to notice the way he was restraining himself; already his cock was rigid. Such a simple thing, restraint and spanking him. Hermione found it curious that he was aroused not only by being spanked but by spanking her. Perhaps he was versatile when it came to whether he liked to dominate or be dominated, or perhaps much like it was with her, he was only aroused by such things because she was the one involved. Hermione tried not to put too much thought into the latter thought.
                “That one seems simple enough. Handles alright in your hand, Hermione?” he asked, once again scribbling in the ledger.
                For good measure, Hermione hauled back her arm and gave him three more good wallops, each one shifted slightly up or down from the previous spank so as to not hurt him too much in the same area. Each paddle was accompanied by the delayed double smack and she couldn’t help but smirk, noting the way his body jerked. “Handles just fine, the handle actually feels like it’s made to be gripped the way I’m holding it.”
                “Right.” George scribbled some more and then looked up at Severus. “Another one, and then we’ll see how you are?” Severus only nodded in his direction. He signaled Hermione to return the Highland Tuesday Tawse to its sleeve and select another whip.
                With three used and four to go, Hermione took a moment to carefully glance over each one. Though she knew they’d get to them all, she figured the next one would be the last before he would need a break. Between the strain of the silk binding, and whatever enchantment the next toy would contain, it might be enough to send him over the edge. She ran her hands over the clear plastic sleeves as if touching their casing might help her decide which one to choose. She settled on the last in the roll, pulling it carefully from its plastic. “It’s the last one,” she said to George, turning the slender handle over in her palm.
                Somewhat of a paddle, the length that protruded from the handle was tier-stacked. Three sets of very distinctly defined and brightly colored lips sat atop one another, the widest at the base, a smaller one in the middle and a much tinier one at the top. Hermione’s brow furrowed in confusion. The largest set of lips were closed, as if puckered for a kiss. The middle set of lips were parted slightly, showing the hint of a tongue, and the top set of lips bared tiny little pointed fangs from the upper lip. She flipped the paddle over, the backside a rich black leather that was smooth to the touch.
                “Saturday’s Sassy Smacker,” he read from the ledger. “A stacked paddle designed for triple your pleasure…lips, tongue, and teeth, a surefire way to shake up your Saturday night.” George looked up from the ledger and shrugged. “With Fred? Who knows,” he chuckled a bit and then nodded at Hermione.
                What on earth it was meant to do other than have a novel appearance, she couldn’t say, but she knew in just a moment she would find out. This was far more of a paddle than the strange split whip had been, though it held the same rigidity. She gripped the handle firmly and moved to stand at the foot of the bed once more. She concentrated on how she had felt the paddle on her own backside, once again lining it up for a strike that would cross the center of his arse. She took a half step closer and flung her arm forward. The paddle’s face connected with his skin and stuck.
                Severus cried out; it was a broken, surprised cry. Hermione was so startled by the sound that she released the handle, shocked when it remained firmly affixed to his backside. She watched in awe as the paddle seemed to shift about. After a moment it fell from his skin and clattered to the floor. The most notable thing on his flesh were the two tiny teeth marks, angry and red, though not enough to have drawn blood. She brought her trembling hand up and touched his ass, noting the way he flinched and hissed when she dragged her finger over the little puncture wounds. She bent and retrieved the paddle, gazing at the intricate work of the lips.
                “It bit you?” she asked, peering around the side of the bed. His face was screwed up tight, his cock rigid and weeping. His chest was heaving, up and down, though not as heavily as he had panted with her in the shower the night before. “Severus— did the paddle bite you?” she rephrased her question, stepping closer to him. He did not open his eyes, clearly straining to control his response to the enchanted paddle. When she placed her hand on his chest his eyes shot open. She gazed into his eyes, lips pursed to repeat her question for the third time but he stopped her.
                “Yes,” he growled. “Among other things.”
                Hermione’s brows lifted on her forehead. “Other things?”
                “Suffice it to say, Miss Granger, you’ll have to use it again for me to be certain as to what.” These words were ground out between clenched teeth; it was a great effort on his part to restrain whatever it was that he was holding back.
                She nodded, feeling slightly shaken. A paddle that could bite was certainly unsettling, and she tried to imagine him using it upon her. Even if it was him, she wasn’t overly fond of sentient objects, and would much rather prefer his lips to bite the supple flesh of her arse than a paddle wielded by his hand. Returning to her post at the foot of the bed, Hermione thwacked the paddle against his backside once more, a bit lower and closer to the bottom swell of his cheeks. Again the paddle’s face stuck to his flesh, though she held onto the handle more firmly until she felt it give way. A third strike had him all but sobbing, and she noticed when she pulled it back that his flesh was wet, just off to the right of the puncture wounds, which now dotted his flesh in three places.
                “Biting…licking…and?” she asked, more to herself than to Severus.
                Severus groaned as she paddled him a fourth time, watching as his limbs trembled violently. “Come here, Miss Granger…” he hissed. She had all but forgotten that they were meant to be testing the remaining Jizz Juicers if he found himself nearing orgasm. The tone of his voice quickly reminded her and without ceremony, she dropped the paddle and scooted around to the side of the bed. The angle at which he was strung was still awkward, but she managed to kneel over him and brought her lips to his weeping tip. It only took a few caresses of her tongue and he was squirting his release into her mouth.
                The taste was tart. A sour almost lemon-like flavor, terribly unpleasant and not at all sweet. She swallowed his seed, preferring the taste of his own essence to whatever foul concoction had tinted that particular pearl. Hermione was quick to wipe her mouth, her face pinched as she did so. “George, that was terrible,” she said, coming round to stand beside him and the ledger. “Lemon, I think. Or something like it, but dreadfully tart and far too sour.” She omitted that she preferred Severus’ natural taste.
                “Untie…me…” he panted.
                “Oh! Sorry!” she cried, scurrying back over to the bed to undo the bindings that held his legs upright. She let her fingers linger just a moment on his legs, but he paid her no mind and was quick to his feet, drawing his robe around him. “Are you—”
                “Fine, Miss Granger,” he waved her off. He glared pointedly at George. “A break,” he said. “At least from that.”
                “Sure, fine. But what on earth was happening with that paddle?”
                Hermione watched Severus carefully, listening to his every word. “There was a piercing puncture, mimicking no doubt some sort of vampiric bite…” as he said this she noted the way his eyes narrowed in distaste. “I can still feel the dull residual of said marking and no doubt have the physical evidence to prove it.” He paused only for a moment and then continued on in his succinct fashion. “A licking tongue and some sort of mouthing gesture, perhaps it was meant to be a suckling motion, though it was far too weak to be properly called so. All in all a clever, if poorly executed idea. A lover’s bite would be more suitable over those fangs.”
                She was astounded at his ability to so clinically assess the experience. She would have been a wreck trying to explain what such a thing had felt like. He was correct in thinking that the little teeth of the upper set of lips had left marks on his backside. She knew they would fade, most likely before they even set back to working with the final three whips, but that hadn’t stopped her from appreciating them when she’d noted their appearance.
                “What else did you have in mind, George?” she asked.
                George Weasley finished frantically flinging red ink about the ledger before he leaped up from the stool and all but bounded over to the box of products. He pulled out a can and held it up. “Oops, not this one.” He grinned with a blush.
                “What is it?” Hermione asked, moving over to look at the strange purple can. Though the minute she’d laid eyes on the product she wished she had not. “Oh…dear…”
                George chuckled. “That’s why I said not this one, we’ll wait a few days until you’re— well— in the clear,” he said and set the can down beside the box. He continued to rummage around the box; Hermione picked up the can and gave it a closer look.
                Grow-A-Dick. The image on the can showed a crude animation; a woman placing the can over her sex and when she pulled it away a hard erection appeared to have sprouted out from her core. Hermione shuddered. No doubt the product was intended for anal penetration, but it terrified her just the same. She was grateful that for the moment George wanted to wait on that particular product, but she realized with some degree of horror that she wouldn’t be on her cycle forever. Eventually she was going to have to test it. But those thoughts were put out of her mind as George pulled from the box of products a smaller box that looked like it was covered in black storm clouds.
                “Bloody love Fred. His marketing was almost as good as the products themselves,” he grinned. She could not recall a time that she had seen him in such great spirits since the passing of his twin, and in that moment all thoughts of frightening products were put out of her mind.
                “What is it?” she asked, taking the box as he handed it to her.
                “The Thunder Down Under” he said and raced back to the ledger. She should have been nervous about his eagerness over it. Hermione dared a glance in Severus’ direction. As usual he seemed nonplused by whatever fantastical horror awaited them. The really brilliant ideas that had been some of the twins’ most successful products during the days of their skiving snackboxes had been truly terrifying. The enthusiasm that George was radiating over the cloudy box reminded her of those days. She sighed and moved to stand near the bed.
                “Open it, Hermione,” he said and thumbed a page over in the ledger. “I want to see if it looks like this.” George pointed to a peculiar drawing in the ledger. The picture looked like little more than black scribbled blobs stacked one on top of another, larger at the bottom and smaller at the top. She frowned, but pried back the lid of the box. A long and slender rod that was curved a bit like the letter ‘C’ was laid against puffy white satin. It was dark, a rich shade of charcoal and would have looked ordinary had it not been for the bulbous puffs spaced evenly all along the length. At the base there was a gold-tinted handle, wide and shiny giving it the look of polished plastic.
                “They look like clouds,” she said, carefully lifting the toy from its casing. The rod held its curved shape as she gripped the handle. Hermione poked a finger at the smallest rounded nub at the tip. “They feel like clouds that might also be made of rubber.”
                “Says here…” George traced his fingers over the lines in the ledger that were squiggled all around the rudimentary drawing. “Thunder Down Under…anal training beads…bursting thunder storms…lighting zaps of pleasure…” He turned his eyes up to Hermione. “Let me see the handle of that thing.”
                Hermione could feel the nerves in her stomach starting to tighten. Anal anything made her feel uneasy. Even though the experience with Severus at Spinner’s End had prepared her, and the testing of both the D2 and the Wonder Water had given her more practice, there was something off-putting about the practice. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it, but figured it was because of how taboo the subject was.
                She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Severus approach them, lifting the product from her hand. Their fingers brushed and her eyes drew to his, but he was intent on gazing at the toy. “And what does it say by way of lubrication, Mr. Weasley?”
                George shrugged. “It doesn’t. But I’ve got lube around here somewhere, I figured there would come a time when it might be needed— and honest it’s not a product, it’s something I picked up at the chemist,” he added. Hermione watched Severus appraise the situation. If he was wary over the lubrication, he didn’t say so. If he was intrigued or disenchanted with the product it was impossible to tell. She wished for all the world that he was easier to read, easier to understand, or at the very least that he would speak his mind so that she could better comprehend just where he stood and how he felt. Wasn’t he nervous? Or was he so practiced that such a novelty not only seemed common place to him but bored him? She suspected that the latter might be the case. But she was given no more time to dwell on it.
                “Hermione why don’t you lay on the bed there and we’ll—”
                “Mr. Weasley, might I suggest given the product’s description that it would be better tested on myself. Miss Granger, though prepared for such penetration, lacks the anatomical necessity to thoroughly benefit from these…” he trailed off for a moment, gazing down over George’s shoulder into the ledger. “…lightning zaps of pleasure…” His voice was flat as he read the words, but Hermione was too caught up in the fact that he’d just volunteered to be penetrated.
                “Oh yeah…” George grinned a bit sheepishly. “Hadn’t thought about that— s’pose that makes sense, though.” He shrugged his shoulders once more and took up his quill pen. “You need a few minutes to— er, I’ve got to— bollocks. It’s up in my flat.” George stood from the stool. “I’ll only be a minute. Going to get the lube.” He departed from the workshop.
                Hermione stood staring at Severus. “Read this description over,” he said and pointed at the ledger. She nodded her head, and tried not to let her gaze linger on him too long. Her eyes skimmed over the words. And his voice made her jump as it appeared just behind her ear. “Aloud, Miss Granger. I wish to see that you understand it.”
                There was something about the way his lips hovered just at the back of her ear. Why had he felt the need to get so close to her just then? She chased the thought from her mind; he often got close to her in the workshop and now her mind was tormenting her over it because they’d had sex in the shower at Spinner’s End. Glorious, passionate, carnal sex that had nothing to do with education or work or anything other than two people’s bodies desperately needing each other. She realized why he had been so guarded and so cautious around her. Her mind was running amuck with interpretations over every little word and gesture now that the line of personal entanglement had been crossed. Perhaps he had been right to push her away.
                “Miss Granger?” he asked, his voice edged with annoyance. “Before Mr. Weasley returns…” His hand rested firmly on her shoulder, as if he was pushing her forward to make the wording in the ledger clearer.
                “Sorry,” she muttered and then squinted at Fred’s atrocious handwriting. Hermione placed her finger under the squiggle to keep her place amid the splatters of ink and other things that covered the page. “Thunder Down Under… a one-time use set of anal training beads designed to brew a storm of pleasure for you. Guide the Thunder Rod into your back door and with each penetrated bead you’ll experience bursting thunder storms. Press the button at the bottom of the wand base for additional lightning zaps of pleasure.”
                Hermione turned her head to the side and gazed at him. His face was hovering just over her shoulder and turning brought their lips quite close together. She blushed. Despite the way he’d ravished her in the shower, and all of the ways he’d become intimate with her— whether they were work-related or pressing the envelope of personal boundaries— she knew that she would never stop blushing at finding him so close to her person. It was foolish, but she couldn’t help herself. “I haven’t—”
                “I can’t imagine that you would have,” he filled in her sentence before she could finish. He pulled his head back and took up her hand without warning. “It’s a delicate process, but I am not so fragile that you should be nervous,” he said. His voice was firm, dictating instruction with a leveled calm. “You’ll want to ease them in, one at a time, and give a good pause between moving forward especially as these are enchanted.” His fingers were laced over hers and he placed the handle into her palm. “Grip it firm but there’s no need to break your knuckles.”
                “What if I push too hard? Or not hard enough?” she asked. Already she could feel her fingers trembling but she couldn’t be sure if it was because she was nervous or because he was holding her hand.
                “It will take a moment to figure that out, but after the first one you’ll get the feel for it. It’s not a battering ram, but you’ll need a bit more effort than you would with your finger.”
                Hermione nodded. She curled her fingers around the toy’s handle, noting the way his fingers curled with her. It was a moment, like so many of the moments that he attempted to avoid and then deny once they’d happened. She bit her lower lip and then felt his hand slip away from hers. Severus slipped out of his robe and moved over to the bed. She watched him climb onto it gracefully, easing himself down onto his stomach and then pushing himself up onto his knees. It presented her with a delightful view of his ass, which she noted was no longer sporting the red markings from the whips they’d tested.
                She was timid and slow as she approached him. “The lube?” she asked. “How much will I—”
                He turned his head over his shoulders, and she felt herself blush. He wasn’t angry, perhaps annoyed, but again that unreadable maelstrom of emotions had surfaced in his eyes. When he spoke his voice surprised her. “Use your judgement,” he said. “Too much and the toy might slip too easily. But you will want to be liberal.” There was a pause. “Double coat, the toy and my person,” he added before letting his head fall forward.
                The workshop door banged open and George raced back in. “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t find it, but I found it.” Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. Everything he did seemed to be with heightened bursts of frenetic urgency. She closed her eyes for a moment and refocused on everything Severus had just told her. “Here, Hermione,” he said and handed her the tube of lubricant.
                “Right,” she said and then laid the toy on the makeshift mattress beside Severus’ thigh. She noted that he’d spread his legs somewhat, giving her much easier access to the tiny pucker of his entrance. She inhaled slowly and then unscrewed the cap on the tube. It was thin and slippery. It reminded her of oil and she tried to reconcile that sensation with what he’d used on her the night at Spinner’s End. This was different, but she supposed as far as the current situation was concerned it would do. She coated her finger liberally and then drew her hand between his cheeks. She’d slipped her finger into him before, without the aid of lubrication, but she still felt nervous as she began to massage his entrance with slickness.
                Hermione noted the way his legs tensed. The tautness of his muscles, the sharp though almost silent intake of his breath, all indicators of his arousal. She pressed her finger in against the rim of tightened muscles, letting the lubrication slip inside of him before she pulled her hand back and picked up the toy. A liberal amount was dribbled over the tip of the rod and she smoothed it all over the first nub. Biting her lower lip with uncertainty, she leaned forward and put one steadying hand on the side of his ass. In her other hand she gripped the handle and lined the tip against his entrance.
                “Give it a go, then, and Severus, tell me how it— well— you know the drill. Hermione, after the first one is in, or maybe the second, see if that button does what it says it’s supposed to.” George’s voice was coarse, heavier than she’d heard it just moments ago. She tried not to think about just how aroused he was getting from watching her with an anal toy in her hand about to penetrate Severus Snape.
                Hermione closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and then opened them. He did have a lovely arse. She pushed the rod forward, meeting a bit of resistance at first, but with a bit more force she felt the rod slide forward and she heard him gasp. She kept her other hand firm on the side of his cheek, knowing better than to overreact and ask if he was alright. The gasp hadn’t been pained, and although she hadn’t completely grown used to his restrained mannerisms, she was beginning to recognize his expressions. If she had hurt him or it was uncomfortable, he would make it known. She gripped the handle a bit more firmly and eased the rod in further. The second of the cloud-like beads eased into his taut ring of muscles.
                “Merlin,” he hissed.
                “Severus?” George asked, clearing his throat several times. She glanced at George. His face was so red she could hardly tell where his hair stopped and his skin began. This made her grin just a tiny bit; she wasn’t the only one who found his reaction to be quite arousing.
                Hermione twisted the rod a bit in trying to maneuver her fingers to press the button at the base of the handle. The motion elicited a groan from Severus and she watched in fascination as his legs trembled and his back began to heave his labored breaths. More deliberately she twisted the rod again, making a full rotation with her hand before pushing the button in with her thumb. He cried out then; his body rocked back before pitching forward. She let go of the handle not wanting to jerk the toy back, but she couldn’t deny just how pleasing it was to watch him in the early throes of ecstasy.
                He rocked on his knees, grunting and panting labored breaths. Hermione couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. But whatever it was, she was loving the result. “Should I keep going?” she asked, her voice quaking. After a moment of no response from him, save for the grunting and panting, she moved to kneel on the mattress. His body was no longer at the edge of the makeshift bed and as she climbed behind him, the springy transfigured table giving beneath her weight, she heard him groan. One hand again held his flesh while the other gripped the rod.
As she pushed the third and then the fourth bead into him, his body trembled more violently. She was determined to crack his resolve with the delicious torture of anal pleasure. She’d heard him at full voice in the shower; she’d felt him at full desire. Hermione knew that he enjoyed it a great deal more than the horrendous restraint he was imposing upon himself. She was knelt between his legs, which were spread wide as he rested on his knees, arse upward near her chest. She shifted over just enough to obscure the view of his backside from George.
                As she pressed the base of the handle again and the rod began to vibrate, Hermione slipped the hand that had held the side of his cheek down beneath his legs and cupped his balls. It earned her a hiss from his lips. Squeezing them she pressed the rod in further, and she felt his whole body seize. With only five of the seven clouded-beads inside of him, she pressed the little button a third time, massaging his balls as she did. She was rewarded with the most pleasing sound she’d yet to hear.
                “Gods,” he cried. It was a strangled sound that broke across his lips followed by a shallow and trembling moan as his body quaked. He came and Hermione closed her eyes, trying to imagine that surge of his seed squirting over her, or gushing into her. It was enough to melt her core and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning outright. She eased her hand back from between his legs, and carefully began to pull the rod back as well. His body shuddered as each bead was pulled from him until the rod was no longer penetrating him. Severus collapsed forward on the makeshift mattress, panting and twitching as he rolled onto his side.
                “Fuck me,” George whispered, so flushed that he looked like an overripe apple.
                Hermione glanced at the rod, noting that where the cloud-like beads had once been full and bulbous they were now little more than rounded plastic nubs. She summoned a cloth and the cleansing spray that they’d taken to using in the workshop and wiped down the toy before handing it to George. “It did say one-time use…” she shrugged.
                “Right…erm— Severus, how— how was it?” he asked, his voice still choked with what Hermione could only assume was embarrassment, or possibly arousal.
                Hermione turned and looked back at Severus who was still lying on the bed, his chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm. She moved over to him and drew up his robe, draping it over his body. Such a simple gesture seemed to pull him from his recovery and in a moment he had pulled himself upright, slid the robe around his figure, and was perched on the edge of the bed, gazing hard at George Weasley. There was a long silence between the three of them.
                “It is difficult to describe,” he began. “But for any wizard I can imagine that such pleasure would be profound.” He stood from the bed and moved over to the ledger. “They burst, only it isn’t an eruption but rather a dispersement, which as they glide up against the prostate upon entry is a stimulating sensation. When Miss Granger pressed that button it was like being electrified only with the jolt charged against the delicate nerve endings and focused at the prostate. And I believe as the beads burst they released a sort of lubricant to further stimulate both the prostate and the anal cavity to further assist in the ease of penetration.”
                Only Severus Snape could make something so erotic and ecstatic sound so clinical and formal. She tried not to snort at the way he’d described the experience. She tried to imagine how she might have described such an experience. Of course she didn’t have a prostate and wondered if the sensations would have been pleasurable or just awkward given that they were designed to stimulate the male genitalia. She drew her robe around her tighter, noting that it had come loose, presumably when she’d climbed up onto the bed. “The handle feels nice,” she added, wishing to contribute.
                George was scribbling so fast and so frantically that he’d managed to upend his pot of red ink again. But he didn’t stop to right it until the ledger was covered in his scarlet notes. When he looked up at Severus, he was still blushing. “So you’ll need a break then?” he asked.
                She’d expected him to quip with sarcasm, but Severus only nodded his affirmation. He looked no worse for the wear. Hermione knew that it had taken a toll on him, and while they did have the Lustipops it was more than just his physical body that needed a break. She did not vocalize her opinion, but hoped that George would move onto something else in his menagerie of products rather than leaving them alone to order in dinner. She’d managed to keep most of her thoughts about their shower encounter at bay up to that point. But if she were left alone with him, she knew herself well enough to know that all bets were off. A sigh of relief crossed her lips when she watched George rise from his stool and move toward the box of products.
                “Hermione, there’s loads of stuff in here, let’s have a look, shall we?” he said, motioning for her to join him.
                Grateful for the distraction, she came over and peered down into the box. It wasn’t as frightening as some of the things she’d seen inside the box that was no doubt still upstairs in George’s bathroom. Cans and boxes and things of the like, but what caught her eye was the shiny green foil package. “Edible Funderwear?” she asked. Her brow creased in confusion as she turned the package over in her hands. It wasn’t very big. Hermione could not imagine how anything meant to serve as under garments could fit inside, let alone serve as anything that would properly cover the area underthings were meant to cover. “Do you have notes on these?”
                She began to fiddle with the packing, which was a bit like foil, as George began to search through the ledger. By the time she’d managed a tiny tear, he’d found the page he was looking for. Her eyes grew wide when a handful of little undergarments tumbled from the torn packaging into her palm. “These are microscopic,” she exclaimed. Hermione laid them down on the table. Their texture was gummy, not unlike wine gums, only they were shaped very distinctively like brassieres, knickers, boxers, and two that looked very much like G-strings.
                “What exactly are you looking at, Hermione? Fred has a good dozen or so different notes here…” George turned a page in the ledger. “I can’t tell what’s product, what’s hypothetical, and whether or not these are completed ideas or ideas he meant to complete.”
                Hermione separated the miniscule gummy bits out as best she could. “Um, well…it looks like a brown bra and sharp cut knickers, then there’s what I’m guessing are boxer shorts in a blueish color, something that could be granny-panties or briefs in orange, and two separate…” she cleared her throat, feeling the blush in her cheeks. “Two diferent, erm— well, they look like G-strings…one is red and the other is white.”
                “Okay…” George glanced through the ledger, flipping the pages back and forth. “Okay— um, the brown ones— I think this goes with those…” he shook his head and started scribbling with his quill pen. “Hermione, those two are a set. I think. Take your robe off, and swallow them. We’ll go from there.”
                He never sounded fully certain when reading notes from Fred’s ledger, but when George issued those instructions she felt her stomach do a flip. It wasn’t as unnerving as what she’d just done with the anal wand, but given the potential for uncharted disaster, she hesitated. Her eyes shifted over to Severus, who was still seated on the bed. He did not return her gaze, but leaned forward slightly, eyes cast down in what she labeled his pensive look. She wondered what was plaguing his mind. When she could find no reason to prolong her hesitation, Hermione plucked up first the knickers and then the brassiere. She pinched them between her thumb and finger and swallowed them together. There was a faint taste of chocolate in her mouth.
                “Are they meant to— oh!” she cried. A tingling shot through her body and it felt as if something was pressing through her insides. “This feels very odd.” There was more tingling and Hermione felt a most indescribable thing. The sensation of clothing growing outward from inside her skin prickled through her body. Her breasts were lifted and her legs parted. She gasped. “Oh my…” Hermione looked at her chest and down her torso. Much like the gummy had intimated, she was now sporting a lovely brown brassiere and pair of low-cut sassy knickers. “They’re— well— I’m not really sure.”
                George waved at Severus. “Fred’s notes say chocolate, so if you’ll go have a taste…see how hard they are to remove with your tongue.” Hermione stood stone still, watching as Severus approached her. She had thought she’d tasted the faintest whiff of chocolate when ingesting them. “Oh, wait. Hermione, give us a wiggle and a walk, make sure they don’t slip off or fall apart.”
                Doing as she was told, she took a tentative step forward. It was a strange sensation, the newly formed knickers cupping her body as she moved. They weren’t uncomfortable; the sensation of something a bit like latex rubbed against her skin. She moved her arms up over her head and then out to the sides. The bra stayed in place and she was impressed with just how fully the brown substance had lifted her breasts. She was not going to wiggle or shake her chest or her backside. “They seem okay, George.”
                As she turned around she came face to face with Severus. Hermione felt her cheeks fill with heat. Even when she knew he was coming he somehow managed to sneak up on her. Exhaling with a shaky breath, she stepped back and nodded to him. Much like their first night in the workshop, he gently lowered his head and pressed his lips against the center of her right nipple. She didn’t gasp, she didn’t tremble; those sensations were becoming common practice for her. She’d learned to control herself somewhat, at least as far as the more basic responses were concerned.
                His lips closed around her nipple and then she felt his tongue. Slow, deliberate swirls of his tongue moved outward from her nipple, over her areola, and fully around the under swell of her breast. The scent of chocolate grew stronger. She couldn’t help but groan as she exhaled. There was something about chocolate that always titillated her senses, even if she wasn’t’ the one eating it. She felt his hand cupping her other breast, his fingers trailing over and under the swell and around the side of her body. Her eyes were hooded with a hint of lust as she watched him lick his lips upon pulling back from her chest.
                “It makes a mess,” he said, turning to George. “This appears to be like layering chocolate over her body in the shape of a bra and knickers. I imagine the knickers will be the same.”
                “But does it taste good?” George glanced up from the ledger.
                “It is palatable, Mr. Weasley, very much like chocolate.”
                Hermione watched as he lowered himself onto his knees. She could feel the chill of the room against her skin where he had licked at the chocolate undergarments. A quick glance confirmed that it had smeared away a clearing, much like licking chocolate sauce from a lover’s body might do. His tongue at the top of her mound caught her off guard and she braced a hand on his shoulder to keep herself balanced. “Sorry,” she muttered.
                Severus repeated his actions against her mound, trailing his tongue down between her legs until he was licking her folds. It was warm and sticky and Hermione’s legs trembled. She felt both of his hands on her hips. His fingers were gripping her flesh and tugging at her like he was trying to remove the chocolate panties. And had they been normal panties she imagined such a gesture might have worked. But all he succeeded in doing was creating little streaks in the chocolate that let her skin peak through its rich brown surface.
                “Looks the same,” George said, turning his head back down into his ledger. “Wipe off, Hermione, and we’ll have you try the um— the…” he flipped a few pages in the ledger. “The red one. Fred’s written that the red G is for females and the white one for males. If we do that one before moving onto the other three— which he’s also noted are meant for males, does that give you enough of a rest, Severus?” A silent nod was his only response.
                There was a moment of getting the remainder of the chocolate cleaned from her body. It wasn’t a complex task so much as it was a tedious one. When it became apparent that she could not reach her back to clear off the band of chocolate that had mimicked the bra’s band, she grunted her frustrations. Whether he was responding to her grunt or had intended to assist her regardless, Severus was quick to take the cloth from her hand and wipe away the remainder of the edible chocolate brassiere. She squeaked a bit as he moved the rag down between her cheeks, gliding outward with his palm to clean up the remainder of the matching knickers. Her mind was tricking her; he hadn’t lingered there the way she thought he had. Or had he? But she was presented with the little red gummy G-string, held up between his finger and thumb, before she could start to think about it.
                She locked eyes with him. Hermione tried very hard for her mind not to be an open book. It was unnerving how readily he could read her, even if it was only half her fault for being so transparent. She parted her lips and allowed him to press the little red gummy into her mouth. It was bitter and her lips puckered as it touched her tongue. She swallowed it quickly. “That was— ugh, George. That tasted foul.”
                “Foul how?”
                Her nose scrunched, the after taste refusing to be so easily chased from her mouth. “Sour— but not in a good way. Like plastic fruit that has somehow gone sour.” Her words clunked over her tongue as she tried to force the taste out of her mouth. “I need water or something,” she said, coughing after a moment. There was a glass held to her lips only a moment after she’d asked for it; Severus’ hand held it just in front of her face. Sipping the water helped to ease the bitterness but did not chase the taste away completely. She sighed and gulped the remainder of the glass until only a hint of the sourness remained on her tongue.
                Hermione glanced down her body expecting some repeat of what had happened with the brown chocolate gummies. Nothing happened. Her brow furrowed and she frowned. “I don’t feel anything,” she said. “I don’t see anything either, unless they’re invisible.”
                Severus reached his hand forward and cupped her sex. He trailed his fingers up the crease where her thigh met her core and then fanned his palm out along the side of her thigh. “If they’re invisible they also lack texture of any sort.” He eyed her warily before bending down and pressing his lips just at the center of her mound. She closed her eyes and felt his tongue swipe down to her lips. Before she could even register the gesture he was once again standing. “And there is no discernable taste,” he added. “For all intents and purposes, Mr. Weasley, I’d say that particularly novelty is a dud.”
                “Delayed reaction maybe?” she asked, fidgeting nervously from one foot to the other. She didn’t much favor the idea of moving on until they were certain she wouldn’t suddenly sprout a G-string made of overripe fruit. “Does it say what it’s meant to do, George? Or only that it was meant for women?”
                “The red one says ‘Female G-String’ and that’s really all it says, I’m afraid.” He traced through the notes in the ledger again. “I think Severus is right. I think it’s a dud. Or unfinished. Or—” his eyes were suddenly wide.
                “What? Or what, George?” Hermione’s voice rose half an octave when he paused. Whatever he’d discovered in the ledger was causing her stomach to twist in knots, and he hadn’t even read it aloud. “George? George!”
                “Calm yourself, Ms. Granger. I do not think you are in direct peril,” said Severus. He nodded at George. “Mr. Weasley?”
                “Sorry, sorry!” George was grinning ear to ear as he glanced up from the ledger. “They’re not all meant to work.”
                “What?” Hermione was baffled.
                “That’s why they’re called Funderwear. I think. I mean, I’m not certain, but this reminds me of that one product we scrapped back when we were tinkering around at Hogwarts. Gassy Grape-O’s. Some of them would give you massive puffs, while others were meant to be duds. The fun was in not knowing, so you could play a hopeful prank or take a few bets with your mates.” George paused, lost in a memory. “Only I think they never worked out because Fred kept trying to shape them like rings. He wasn’t very good at getting the formula to stay solid and they ended up all running together in their container. Not so fun if you have to chug a vial of runny grape liquid.”
                Hermione stared at him. “Gassy Grape O’s?” she shook her head. “My goodness it’s no wonder you two were always in trouble.” She sighed and then wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling a bit self-conscious standing there naked with no product to show for it. No matter how much time she spent without her clothes on, she was certain she would never be comfortable being nude in front of an audience. She’d never had much confidence in her body nor had she ever considered herself to be attractive She knew she was passible, but not gorgeous by any stretch of the imagination. “You said the other three were meant for Severus, right?” she asked. But she didn’t wait for George to answer before she retrieved her robe and slipped into it.
                “Yeah, Severus, take your pick. Fred’s notes are in no order whatsoever.”
                Hermione watched Severus. There was very little involved as far as picking up one of the three remaining gummy undergarments. He’d selected the blue one that had been shaped like a pair of boxer shorts. Without preamble or hesitation it was in his mouth and gone from sight. She stood back, watching as he shrugged out of his robe, letting it drape back across the table. She hadn’t watched the chocolate undergarments appear on her person so much as she had felt them. It was intriguing to watch his skin tint a wild shade of blue and appear to bubble before sprouting a pair of boxer shorts that appeared to be covered in fine blue hairs.
                “That looks…well…curious, I suppose,” she said and approached him. “Did it have a taste?”
                “Sugary.”
                “Right.” Hermione was careful as she bent down on her knees and rested in front of his thighs. Upon closer inspection she noted that the fine blue hairs were more like little strings and they smelled strongly like fairy floss. Closing her eyes, she leaned her lips forward and pressed them against the juncture of where his left leg creased his torso just on the outside of his thigh. There was a cloying sweetness that assailed her tongue when she licked the strings, her tongue dissolving through them straight to his skin. “Oh I think it’s meant to be strings of fairy floss.”
                “Nifty.” George scribbled in the ledger without lifting his head to look at them. “Is it sticky once it’s dissolved?”
                Hermione moved her lips along the crease of his leg in toward his cock. Her tongue licked a path through the blue strings and she frowned. “It does leave a sugary residue…” She licked the skin that had been exposed by devouring the strings, laving her tongue on his flesh until it was clear of the blueish sugary syrup that had trailed in her tongue’s wake. “Thankfully it doesn’t seem to tangle or stick much in his hair.” She added. Tilting her head up, she caught his eye. “I want to see if its gritty against your…” she blushed.
                He gave the slightest shrug accompanied by a nod and Hermione set her focus on bringing her lips down the length of his cock. It was a valid reason for slipping his flaccid member into her mouth, even if she was motivated by a need that was anything but professional. Much as she had suspected, it was merely sticky and not at all grainy. There was a twitch of his cock as she rolled her tongue around him. And then she felt his hand on her shoulder. With as innocent a glance as she could muster, she gazed up at him, squeezing her lips ever so gently to keep his member in her mouth as she met his eyes.
                “Do you reckon it’s too sticky for a proper blow? You don’t have to finish him, just give it a once or twice.” She heard George’s voice and her lips curled into a grin as she nodded her head. Directions to do what she’d already started doing only bolstered her confidence and she slid her lips down the length of his shaft with gusto, feeling his fingers grip her shoulder more firmly as she did.
                Hermione swirled her tongue under and over his length. She knew that although he was tired from the whips that he was a virile wizard. He’d gone three or four rounds in the workshop before, even if it had been with the aid of the Lustipops. She was not surprised when she felt his length begin to harden, filling her mouth with his erection. Bobbing her head as she swirled her tongue around his tip, she tried not to get lost in pleasing him with her mouth. She was simply meant to be seeing if the fairy floss boxers were sticky, a notion of which Severus reminded her as he squeezed her shoulder again.
                If he was going to stop her, she was going to make him use his words. With her lips pulled in tightly over her teeth, she began to suck him into her mouth with a steady bobbing motion accompanying her roving tongue. One hand braced his hip, feeling the fairy floss melt into sugary sap from the heat of her palm. She felt his body tremble as she slid her other hand between his legs, gently coating the melting fairy floss over his balls. Hermione felt bold in that moment and let his cock slide from her lips. It was something she had been curious about after playing with the Fluffer Nutter toy and the present moment was presenting her with the opportunity to test out her notion.
                Severus cried out, a torn cry blissful and beautiful to her ear. Her lips were ensconced around his balls, managing to suckle them individually before drawing them into her mouth. Not really knowing what else to do, and not wanting to hurt him by moving her jaw too much, she eased his sac back and began to lick him in earnest. Again she drew her lips over her teeth and mouthed suckling his balls as she would his cock and it earned her the most delectable sound in response. If she thought he’d been holding her shoulders firmly before, she was certain he was going to dislocate them now.
                “Severus, here,” she heard George’s voice through the strained cries and heavy panting of the man above her. She couldn’t see what George had given him or offered him, but she thought perhaps it was the last Jizz Juicer from the original compact of five. Knowing that it could take a while before he reached climax, Hermione allowed a wicked notion cross her mind.
                Ever so slowly she drew her lips back from his balls, up over his shaft, and then back from his person entirely. She smiled at her handiwork; his cock was turgid, jutting up against his stomach. His flesh was all but cleared of the fairy floss strings in the places where she’d licked him, though she did note with a mostly disguised snicker that his cock was stained with hints of blue.
                “If we wipe him off, we can try the orange one before he goes…” she said, glancing around for anything to slide under her knees. They were beginning to ache from the solid concrete of the workshop floor. “There’s still orange left, right?”
                “And white.” The voice that spoke sounded as foreign from Severus Snape as she had ever heard it. Riddled with cracking restraint, peppered with brutally repressed lust.
                “Oh! I forgot about that one, let’s do that one next since you’re…” she gestured.
                “Severus, whichever, and then let her finish, I want to know what fifth flavor was in that compact.” George was once again on his stool, eyes turned down into the ledger.
                The white G-string gummy was plucked from the table and held up in his fingers as she grabbed the cloth and the cleansing spray. Hermione pushed her hand hard in circles around his flesh. She was particularly thorough sliding her hand between his cheeks, grinning to his backside as he clenched and his legs trembled when she prodded just the slightest at his pucker. She knew it was risky, toying with him in such a way, but it thrilled her to do so.
                When he was completely cleaned of the fairy floss, though a few little hints of blue still stained his skin, she moved around to the front of him and knelt down. His cock was still fully erect, hard and glistening with her saliva. She bit her lower lip, half from habit, half to draw his attention, and then waited for him to ingest the gummy. Like the blue one, it was gone before her eyes and almost immediately she noticed a stiff white peak encasing his erection. Little white puffs threaded around his waist. She moved to stand behind him, noting the way the puffs joined into one line and split his arse like a true G-string.
                “It looks like whipped cream,” she said and then drew her finger forward, swiping up a bit of the puff on the side of his hip. “It smells like whipped cream,” she added. Hermione drew her finger to her lips. “Oh dear God. Blech!” she cried. “It does not taste like whipped cream.”
                “What does it taste like, Hermione?”
                She was hesitant to taste it again, but drew her finger through the whipped white puff nearest the front of his mound where it widened down into the G-string that covered his erection. Bringing it to her lips, she tasted the stuff again. Hermione puckered her lips. “Like egg custard. Or custard cream,” she said and then scrunched up her nose. “I was never a fan of either.”
                “Does it taste alright, though? I mean— it’s not sour or what not?”
                She shook her head. “No, it’s just a bit jarring when you’re expecting whipped cream and then you get a taste of something you’re not overly fond of.” Hermione eyed the large puffy peaks that covered his cock. She swallowed hard and then drew her lips to his tip. “Though I imagine the texture will do wonders for a blow job.”
                Both of his hands were suddenly on her shoulders, causing her to look up at him. He spoke not a word but she could read it in his eyes, a warning. He was on the brink, of that she was certain, but he would have to wait because she was not about to blow him to completion with the egg custard cream foam of the G-string coating him. Hermione drew his cock into her mouth. The foamy egg custard cream taste intensified while the foam itself melted away. She swallowed and recoiled just a bit; it tasted as bad as she had remembered. She tried not to let the taste bother her as she sucked his cock slowly in and out of her mouth. It did provide a fluffy lubricant of sorts as she continued to pull his length in and out.
                “How does that feel, Severus?”
                He squeezed her shoulders. Hermione looked up as she continued her deliberate bobbing motion. His eyes were screwed shut as she’d so often seen them when he tried to keep his desires and ecstasies in check during their work. She paused for a moment, letting her tongue rest against the tip of his erection. “Severus?” she asked, her voice pierced with mocking innocence, her words vibrating against his pulsing flesh.
                “Exquisite,” he hissed. That was not a word she had heard him use in any capacity, let alone to describe the sensations of their product testing. Hermione pulled him in hard once more and then drew him back.
                “Oh good,” George said. He sounded as enthused as if Severus had just brought in a copy of The Daily Prophet. “Can you hold out for the last one?”
                “Not if Miss Granger keeps— aah,” he panted. She had slid her hand up between his legs once more. Fondling his balls with delicate pinches of her fingers, she continued to glide her lips up and down his length until two firm hands cupped her cheeks and effectively stilled her motions. “Stop,” he panted. “Or I won’t last through the last one.” He had reprimanded her. Though his voice was only stern and not angry, it was still enough to make her feel naughty. Hermione realized in that moment that she rather liked feeling naughty.
                While she was completely prepared to pout, Hermione kept her eyes lowered and her face neutral as she gave his cock one final lick before resting back on her heels. She wasn’t given the chance to wipe him clean as Severus drew up the rag before she could get up off her knees. She watched the way he was tender with his motions; it spurred devious thoughts into her head. If he was so readily close then perhaps she wouldn’t have to truly work at it once he tested the orange briefs-shaped gummy. She liked working at it, but liked the prospect of tasting his release more, even if it would be tinted with what she hoped was a more pleasant flavor than the lemon had been.
                Hermione’s mind was turning over the possibilities as Severus ingested the final gummy undergarment from inside the green foil pouch. Its effect was immediate and she found herself confronted with a garish pair of orange briefs. To say they were bright was the understatement of the century. She squinted and crinkled her nose looking at the way the texture appeared to wrap around his body. “It looks like an orange peel.” Pulling herself upright, she made a slow circle around his person. It looked like someone had gutted half of an oversized orange and slotted leg holes into the rind before sliding it up his body.
                “Is it comfortable, Severus?” George had risen from his stool to take a closer look.
                “It is snug, Mr. Weasley.”
                Hermione noted that his erection was straining against the strange material, causing it to protrude in the front. She wondered if it tore the way an orange peel did and without thinking she brought her hands forward and began to tug at it. She was surprised that the material, if it could be called that, felt soft, though dimpled across the surface, almost like leather. It did not shred under her fingers even though she tried tugging on it a few more times. “This doesn’t seem to want to give,” she said. Placing both hands on his hips, Hermione tugged the briefs downward but they did not budge.
                “Maybe you’ve got to lick them off? Or nibble them off?” George suggested, having returned once more to the ledger. His head was buried in the scribbles and squiggles that filled the green pages.
                “Right,” she said and then returned to stand in front of Severus. Down on her knees, Hermione brought her lips to the edge of the orange material and licked her tongue over the outline of his erection. It felt odd; it felt like licking the surface of a golf ball. She frowned. “This doesn’t have a taste. Or at least not one that I can determine.”
                There was a hesitancy about her as she parted her lips and brought her teeth over the edge of the garment. Closing her eyes and inhaling his masculine scent, which thankfully no longer contained the residuals of the egg custard cream or the fairy floss, Hermione nibbled ever so gently at the material. It came away in her mouth and began to melt against her tongue. “Ooh…” she whispered, a blush filling her cheeks. “That’s…oh my…”
                “What? It’s what, Hermione?”
                “George it’s…well I’m not really sure how to explain it. Almost like marzipan but also sherbet. It sort of melts against my tongue but only once I’ve bitten it off…” Hermione pressed her lips more firmly against the orange briefs and bite a section of it away. Severus hissed. For a moment she was worried that her teeth had scraped his cock, but realized that his hissing was a sign of pleasure as the room’s cool air rushed over his now partially exposed erection. “Oh this is lovely,” she murmured.
                “So it’s really a novelty wrapping. A fun bout of foreplay if she’s got to chew threw his briefs before she can play with him.” George’s hand was a blur of white freckled flesh and splattered ink as he whizzed notes into the ledger faster than he could speak them. “Now that you’ve bitten a bit off, can you pull it the rest of the way?”
                Hermione paused from savoring the delightful orange treat in front of her and placed both hands over the area she’d bitten free. Tug as she might, the briefs did not slide down from his body. “Oh that’s rubbish,” she muttered. “I’m afraid you have to it eat all…” she tried to hide her excitement at the prospect of having to nip and bite her way around Severus’ body by bowing her head, her eyes downcast.
                Severus hands pushed hers away. “Surely, Miss Granger, you just need a bit of strength in your effort,” he said. His voiced was pinched, but not with the restraint of sexual frustration. He sounded annoyed. Hermione raked her eyes over his cock, he was still fully at attention. Perhaps he was fed up with raging at his peak without release. She watched as he tugged and pulled and pushed at the orange garment. And after another moment of watching him struggle she placed both her hands over his. He stilled his gestures and gazed down at her.
                Her eyes were wide and very sincere in that moment. There was a silent exchange. There was a flicker in his eyes, and then he let his hands fall to his sides. He looked away from her. She chose to interpret it as his acceptance whether he intended it that way or not. Leaning her head forward she began to nip at the orange briefs once more. Little nuggets of vanilla crème blended with orange melted in her mouth as she nibbled away the garment. She was careful as she swept her lips over the little bit that still covered his erection, even more so as she bent her head between his legs. Hermione had to angle her neck and twist her entire body around as she began to tug the material with her teeth, freeing his balls. She heard him hiss and she smiled to herself, one hand gently caressing them as she continued her feast upon the orange crème delight.
                Hermione nudged his thigh and he spread his legs further. This allowed her to crawl beneath him and work her way around the backside of the garment. She was tempted to nip his arse directly, but settled for trailing her tongue up the length of his crack. He groaned and when he did, she gave his balls another gentle squeeze. Although her mouth was preoccupied with devouring the orange briefs, one hand kept fondling him, the other kept a hold of his hip to keep her from falling over as she twisted her body about in every direction she could manage.
                She’d worked her way around the right side of him, the garment almost nibbled out of existence, when she felt his hand tugging hard on her shoulder. His legs were shaking and she knew he was close. She slipped her hand around from between him and brought her body around in front of him. The tip of his cock was weeping and there was still a bit of orange clinging to the joint of his left thigh, but she would worry about that after he came. Slipping her lips over his tip, she teased his swollen head with a swirl of her tongue. The hand that had been cupping his balls stroked them and squeezed them in earnest. He groaned and she felt his hips push forward, bucking against her mouth as she drew him in.
                It was sudden, but she managed not to inhale. Hermione’s mouth was flooded with his seed, and the heady tropical taste of coconut. His cock pulsed and she felt as if he were aiming to fill her entire body with his release. The hand that braced him against her shoulder was so heavy it was crushing her downward and Hermione struggled to stay upright as the last spurt of his cum dribbled into her mouth. Drawing back slowly, she licked her lips, and then nipped the last little segment of the orange briefs away from his skin.
                Rocking on her knees for just a moment, she closed her eyes. Every time he came it lit a fire in her belly that blazed through her core and taunted her with carnal need. Tasting his cum, even if it was coconut flavored thanks to the Jizz Juicer, sent her head spinning. She took a moment to compose her thoughts, no longer caring how plainly they read upon her face or in her eyes. “Coconut,” she said after another moment in silence. “Definitely a delicious flavoring of coconut.”
                “Coconut,” George repeated. “And you got all the orange off him?”
                “Yes, George.” She said. Hermione slowly eased up off her knees and stood beside Severus, who had already donned his robe. She wasted no time, not wanting to give the man the chance to admonish her or blast her with one of his pointed stares. “So— more whips?”
                “Yeah, we’ve still got two more? No. Three more? Yeah, three. Severus, grab a Lustipop and we’ll get going. I think I want to shoot for dinner after the last three if you can manage through those.”
                There was the hint of a protest forming on Severus’ lips, she could see it in the way he twitched, but he said nothing. Perhaps his virility was stronger than she gave him credit for. Four times in such a short period of time, even with the assistance of the Lustipops was going to be pushing it, of that she was certain. In the tome he had given her there had been a brief section on sexual limitations. Though it was mostly geared toward witches and their fully awakened magical menses, there had been a few sentences about wizards and their sexual maturity. Even the most virile of wizards could seldom achieve more than four ejaculate orgasms in such a short period of time.
                Hermione’s legs were stiff from kneeling, even though she hadn’t been down on them all that long. She was grateful for the opportunity to be standing once again. Severus stood by the bed, slowly shedding his robe and she moved to stand beside him, picking up the red silk. “Are you ready?” she asked.
                “Do I have a choice?” he asked. His voice was level, he sounded like himself. He climbed onto the makeshift mattress and laid back, spreading his legs slightly. She tugged the ends of the ribbon and watched as they flew apart and worked their magic to hoist him up into the perfect paddling position. She wasn’t sure she would ever grow tired of watching that particular novelty trick, especially not considering the lovely view it provided her.
                “Which ones are left, George?”
                “Um…let’s see…” he flipped through the pages of the ledger pausing only when he’d found the descriptions of the Week of Whips. “There’s still Monday…and Wednesday and Thursday. Take your pick I don’t rightly care which one you use next, they all appear to have some sort of enchantment, and I’m not reading anything about release being a part of them, so we should be good.”
                The whips were where she had left them, on the far side of the table opposite the bed. Hermione glanced over them, noting the ones she’d already used, trying to compare them to the ones that remained. The one in the fourth slot caught her eye over the other two. There was something about its bawdy orange-striped handle that screamed to be chosen. Sliding it from the plastic, she curled her fingers around the handle. Smooth fur tickled her palm. “This one is furry, at least the handle is…” The tails that protruded from the handle looked like slender strips of tiger’s fur. With a tentative stroke of her fingers, she traced the length of the tails. “The tails are furry too.”
                “Which slot was it in, Hermione?”
                “Oh! Um, one, two, three— four. The fourth slot. That’s Thursday, yes?”
                George nodded his head. “Tigress Tails,” he read aloud. “Thursday will set your cat on the prowl with two dozen tiger tails to make you growl in delight. Simply flick and swish and it’s a night in the jungle for you and your lover.”
                There was something about the description that made the little hairs at the back of Hermione’s neck stand on end. Perhaps it was the prowling and growling bit, but she suspected it was the very end part that had referenced having a night in the jungle. A Weasley idea was always a dangerous thing; introducing wild animals augmented the danger factor exponentially. With the handle gripped firmly in her fingers she took several steps toward the foot of the bed but stopped further back than she had with the previous whips. The tails of Tigress Tails were much longer than anything she’d yet wielded and she intended to give them ample space in which to work their enchantment.
                It was different from the flogger she’d used, and the one he’d used on hers. She tried to think back to the unpleasant sting of the single whip. It had bit into her backside and actually hurt. She rationalized that the thing she held in her hand was different. The tails were many and made of a soft fur. Hermione twisted her wrist back and forth for a moment before pulling her arm back and lashing the whip tails forward with a sharp flick and swish motion. There was no crack that tore through the air as there had been when he had whipped her at Spinner’s End. But the room was suddenly filled with a growl. A growl that did not belong to Severus, or to anything sounding remotely human.
                Hermione gaped at the lash marks that appeared across his arse. They weren’t bleeding but they looked deep and angry. She gasped as they began to darken, hastening in color from red to black. They looked like tiger stripes. “Oh dear…” she said. She chewed her bottom lip and turned to George. “Keep going?” The redhead nodded. Again she drew back her arm, and when the tails connected with his backside the room was once more filled with a growl. It was the distinctive growl of a jungle cat. It wasn’t until she whipped him a third time that she realized the tails were enchanted to growl.
                She’d managed to crisscross his backside with tiger stripes, the black jagged patterns creating a strange look on her arse. When she worried his cheeks could withstand no more, she let the whip rest at her side. “Does it feel different?” she asked. Hermione took a timid step toward him, half expecting the stripes on his bum to lunge up from his skin and transform into an actual tiger. She laid her palm flat across his left cheek, noting the way he shuddered and hissed as she did. The stripes were not raised nor did they bare the texture of fur. It was merely an illusion or an inky enchantment designed to spice up the aesthetic of the process.
                “That particular whip was like furry claws grating across my arse,” he spat. “If you’re through with it, I’d be much obliged to get on with the next one.”
                The contradiction in his description befuddled her, but she didn’t say a word. Hermione returned the Tigress Tails to their slot in the roll of whips and plucked up the one that rested atop it. A crop, simple in design and almost identical to the one he had used on her during her lesson. The tip was an ordinary square of leather, nothing remarkable to note on it, not even so much as a unique color. “This one is Wednesday, I think, it was just above Thursday.”
                “Wednesday…Wednesday…Wed— ah…Wednesday…” George scanned the ledger. “Wednesday’s Wonky Whacker. Seven slaps or seven whacks, this crop delivers true, with each new slap and each new whack, a surprise is waiting for you.”
                Hermione tried not to giggle at the rhyme. She knew that it meant trouble because as Weasley surprise was twice as dangerous as a Weasley idea. Presumably she would need to use the crop seven times, if whatever enchantment was ordered to cycle through the seven different surprises. She turned the slender handle over and over in her palm. “Should I just start right out then?” she asked. The fact that Severus’ face remained obscured from her sight by his drawn up legs caused her a rush of relief. She was certain that he would be glowering at her uncertainty or at the very least frowning at the product’s description. A crop, however mysteriously enchanted, needed a firm but delicate hand with staunch wrist motion and above all she had to remember to alternate cheeks.
                Without waiting for George, who had turned his attentions to fiddling with the position of his stool, she stepped up and placed her hand against the underside of his thighs. For a moment he tensed, but when she let her hand linger he seemed to calm. The rich black stripes from the previous whip had already begun to fade, though in places he still looked a bit like he was wearing skin-tight flesh-tone tiger striped briefs. Hermione traced her fingers down his thigh and tapped the pads of her digits against his arse.
                “Get on with it, Miss Granger.” His voice called to her. With a sheepish look she leaned around his legs and peaked at him. His eyes were closed, his head tilted to the side. She allowed herself a glance down the length of his body and noted that his cock was only half hard. She wondered if the crop would arouse him more fully, or if he’d been at attention and the time between stopping with the Tigress Tails and now had been long enough of a period to allow him some slack. But she didn’t wish to keep him or George waiting any longer.
                Standing much closer to his backside than she had been with the whip of tiger tails, she held the crop firmly and slapped it hard against his left cheek. An enormous wet tongue sprung forth from the leather square as it made contact with his skin; the squelching sound of a tongue slapped against his arse now reverberated through the workshop. She was stunned watching the oversized tongue give his backside a thorough lick before it vanished in a puff of pink smoke, leaving the crop as it had started. “Good grief,” she muttered.
                “Was that a— a tongue?” George asked, his eyes wide with incredulity.
                “It felt like a tongue,” Severus growled.
                Hermione tried not to snicker. She was relieved that it was not her arse being paddled with a giant slurping tongue, but that relief was not enough to keep her from finding the situation very amusing. With a steadying breath she drew back her hand but hesitated before flinging it forward. The description had said seven different slaps would result in seven different surprises. “That was one,” she said.
                “One what?” asked George. Then he blushed. “Oh, right. Yeah. One. And six more, right?”
                She nodded and drew back her arm once more. A quick snap of her wrist had the crop slamming forward, this time against his right cheek. Just as it had with the tongue, as the leather square neared his flesh, it suddenly transformed. Dozens of little hands surged forward from the crop’s face and began to drum a rapid rhythm across his backside. As quickly as they had appeared was as quickly as they vanished with a puff of green smoke. “Oh my goodness,” she couldn’t keep the giggle from her throat. “I wonder if each— erm…each thingy has a different color of smoke too?” She felt foolish for not being able to find a better word than thingy.
                “That’s a nifty addition I guess. The smoke isn’t scented or anything is it?” George flipped back a page in the ledger. “I didn’t read anything about smoke.”
                “Not in so far as I can tell.” Again she found herself peeking around the side of his legs, gazing at him. She bit her lower lip. He was still only half erect and she wondered if his body was spent or if this strange prankish sort of spanking simply wasn’t doing it for him. She wasn’t entirely certain that she would have found it pleasurable had she been the one roped up into the red silk. Again she placed a hand on the back of his thigh; it was a bold gesture but she felt sure of herself in that moment. “Are you feeling alright?” she asked.
                “Fine, Miss Granger,” he waved his hand at her, but she noted with just the tiniest grin that he kept his eyes closed. It must have unnerved him greatly to be trussed up as he was and have to look her in the eye. Or perhaps it disgusted him. She tried not to dwell on the latter of those two thoughts. Realizing that once again her mind was getting the better of her, she stepped back and focused on crop in her hand. There were still five more mystery enchantments that required five more slaps to his arse. She discovered that wielding the mysterious crop was not as heady a task as the ones that had demanded release or were of a simpler variety. Perhaps this one was too novel, at least for her tastes.
                A third solid whack sent a flurry of feathers sweeping over his backside and she watched in awe the way he twitched and twisted, despite the restraints, trying to escape their airy touches. Hermione pursed her lips. “Severus, are you ticklish?”
                He said nothing, but released a groan of sorts when a long slender feather slipped between his cheeks, wriggling about causing him to tremble. Hermione could not believe her eyes. She made to snatch up one of the feathers but it dissipated into a puff of smoke the moment she touched it. A ticklish Severus Snape was not a notion she could readily reconcile in her mind with the man she had come to know. She tucked that pearl of wisdom away for later and thoroughly intended to readdress it once they’d returned to Spinner’s End. There were a great many things she intended to address when the evening was finished. Her mental checklist was nearly a foot long.
                When Hermione drew back the crop the fourth time she yelped when a small wave of icy blue liquid tumbled out over the head of it and rushed down his body. He cried out and she raced to his side. “Sorry, are you alright?”
                “Fine.” His teeth were clenched, his eyes screwed tightly shut and she noted that he was now at full attention.
                “What was that, Hermione? Water? Ice? Ink? I couldn’t really see…”
                “I don’t really—”
                “It felt like ice water,” Severus growled. “Please get on with the final three, Miss Granger, my legs are growing tired.”
                “Sorry, Severus,” she muttered. Though it was most likely true, given the way his legs were restrained by the silk, she doubted very much that it was the only reason he wanted her to get on with it. Knowing what he was capable of in regards to expression it dawned on her in that moment how intense of an effort he put forth to keep himself restrained from howling and growling and thrashing about as pleasure shook through his body. If being spanked and restrained or tickled and teased was in fact a turn on, she almost pitied him for the way he refused to enjoy himself. “Right…three more…” she said after a moment’s thought.
                The fifth smack had Hermione all but jumping out of her skin as two enormous hands emerged from the crop’s head. They seized his cheeks, one in each hand, and began to massage him with a tremendous force. It lasted only for a moment and just as the hands vanished in a puff of black smoke she watched them drag their oversized nails down over his arse. Not wishing to linger on such an image she quickly applied the crop again, disappointed when it appeared to remain an ordinary crop. “Maybe he only got five? Or whatever the sixth enchantment is meant to be…it’s a dud…”
                “Well see if there is a seventh and then I can figure it out from there. I wonder if it’s a one-time use sort of deal?”
                Hermione tapped the crop against his left cheek, ending where she started, and squeaked as it transformed into a several long coils of beads which rapped themselves hard against his backside. A puff of glittery gold smoke erupted as the coils disappeared and she began to cough. Waving her hand frantically to clear the smoke, she was surprised that the head of the crop had disappeared entirely. In its place was a small wire clip, attached to which was a single square of parchment.
                Thank you for purchasing Wednesday’s Wonky Whacker. We do hope you enjoyed your whacking! Happy fucking! Messrs. F & G Weasley.
                She couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculous note. “George you need to read this,” she laughed. Walking over to where he sat, she pointed the head of the crop to him. But it was Severus’ irritated cry that drew her attention.
                “Would you get me down?” he snarled.
                Hermione dropped the crop over the ledger and rushed back to the side of the makeshift bed. “Oh goodness! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
                “Less prattling and more untying,” he narrowed his eyes at her.
                Hermione huffed. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.” When his pointed glare did not abate, she rolled her eyes and retrieved her wand. Untangling the silks, she eased his legs onto the bed and then rested one hand firmly on his left hip. “You’re awfully testy.” Her eyes searched his and for a moment she saw a world of things floating there. But like so many of their moments it was gone in a flash. He waved her off, pushing her hand from his figure as he sat up. His cock was still hard, but not weeping and begging for release. Severus slid his arms into his robe.
                “You try being bound up in that absurd position without release for nearly an hour,” he added and then stood from the bed. “Mr. Weasley, what else have you deigned to torture us with this evening?”
                George snorted. “Ease up, Severus. That’s all the whips and paddles for now, honest. There were a set of printed ones that I remember seeing when I first started sorting things but for the life of me I can’t seem to find them.”
                “Thank Merlin for your organizational skills,” Severus muttered.
                Hermione moved to stand beside him, deliberately letting their bodies touch, and she was surprised when he did not jerk and recoil. “Maybe a break? For everyone? Dinner or just a breather?”
                George nodded. “Suppose I can’t starve my employees,” he smiled, trying to lighten the dour mood that seemed to have settle over the workshop. “Head up to my flat and I’ll pop down and get some food.”
                Hermione nodded and walked with George to the door. “Take your time, yeah? I think he’s having his monthly,” she smirked. It was a quiet exchange whispered against the redhead’s ear and George snickered.
                “Alright, Hermione, just don’t let him get to you. As much as he’s changed and all…he’s still Snape. Watch out, I’ll bet he bites,” he teased and then slipped out the workshop into the shop.
                She was not surprised that Severus was already up the stairs and halfway into George’s flat when she turned around. She drew her robe tightly around her, took the stairs two at a time, and chased after him. “You were right rude just now,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
                “Miss Granger, I do not wish to hear your incessant—”
                Hermione marched over to where he stood just beside the empty hearth, squared her jaw, stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a firm finger against his lips, which confusingly but effectively silenced him. “And I don’t wish to be dismissed. You can be callous and sarcastic and bitter and all of those things, I’ve dealt with those traits for years. You can even be cheeky and mysterious and broody. But I won’t tolerate you being rude.”
                She narrowed her eyes at him when he continued to glare back at her. If it was a staring contest he wanted, she’d give her best effort, though she doubted she’d last long against his blazing smolder filled with unreadably dark emotions. She was surprised when after a moment he took the finger that she’d left pressed on his lips and gently moved it down from his face. Severus sighed. “You’ve put me on edge, but you are right, that is no reason to be rude.”
                This confession startled her. “I’ve put you— how do you mean?”
                It was a disquieted snort; the sound that left his lips was coupled by another heavy sigh. He stepped back from her and turned his back to the hearth. She watched his eyes travel from the lone chair to the sofa. When he settled into the sofa she had to bite her tongue to keep from exclaiming her surprise. Hermione was cautious as she approached him, eyeing him like a wild creature as she moved to sink down into the sofa beside him. He didn’t flinch as her leg brushed his, and he didn’t pull back when she leaned toward him. “Can you elaborate? I don’t mean to put anyone on anything and if it’s something that I’m doing—”
                “Aside from being yourself?”
                Hermione frowned. “Severus…I know that last night—”
                This time it was his finger on her lips. “This is not the time or place for that.” He said. His voice was stern but it lacked the cautionary warning that such reprimands often carried.
                “But you do intend to discuss it?” she asked, her lips moving despite his finger being pressed against them.
                “Do I have a choice as far as you’re concerned?” he asked. He sounded exasperated.
                She sighed. “No, you don’t. But let me save us both the trouble. It was a moment, you were caught up, I was caught up, and I shouldn’t dwell on such moments. From such moments come other moment and you shan’t have that. Am I close?” she huffed.
                Severus rolled his eyes. “There’s no need to be melodramatic, Miss Granger.”
                “I’m not being melodramatic! I’m being serious! Severus, last night— you— we— I mean you were there!”
                She huffed again with indignation when he snorted. “That I was, Miss Granger. As were you.” He paused for a moment, gazing hard into her eyes. “I should know better than to think there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that you’ll simply let it go.”
                “Not on your life,” she snapped. Severus sighed. His fingers formed a steeple in front of his face and then he pinched the bridge of his nose. There was something strangely familiar about that gesture. It was one she’d seen several dozen times throughout her days at Hogwarts. A secretive, gesture of internal comfort that he provided himself with whenever the situation became to trying for polite words. Hermione frowned. Was he struggling as much as she was with finding words to explain their involvement in the shower? She doubted it. But then a much worse thought struck her mind.
                “Why do I even need to speak on the matter if you’ve already drawn up every possible scenario in your mind?”
                His words startled her. “You shouldn’t read my mind,” she crossed her arms defensively over her chest.
                “You shouldn’t presume that I’m reading anything more than what’s plainly written across your face.” He paused and then brought his hand to cup the side of her jaw. She inhaled sharply feeling the heat of his palm make contact with her skin. “Your features are expressive…more so when you’re overthinking, Miss Granger.”
                It took every ounce of strength Hermione possessed not to tilt her head into his hand. She longed to feel his caress. He touched her and he touched her often, and even the previous night in the shower their bodies had been pressed together and intimately intertwined. But the way he held her cheek was tender, a lover’s touch that was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Snippets of their foregone conversations flashed through her mind. She closed her eyes and slowly reached her own hand forward, letting it rest atop his thigh. “You once told me I mistook you in thinking that you did not crave touch.”
                “Your memory is a regular pensieve.”
                “Did you not say that?” she asked, slowly opening her eyes. She was met with his gaze. There was silence between them. No crackling flames in the hearth to distract them, no running shower, or George appearing unannounced, simply silence. She tilted her head slightly, nudging against his palm. If she remained silent they could easily stay in that position until George returned. But she needed answers; she craved them beyond all logical necessity. “I think you do want me, Severus.” She whispered.
                She’d expected his hand to retract. She’d expected him to speak and contest her emotional sentiment. She’d expected a great number of things. But when he bowed his head slightly forward, and closed his eyes, she found herself dumbstruck. How was she meant to interpret such a gesture? Her fingers crept up his thigh until her hand hovered over the bulge in his robes. She’d felt him harder, but there was no denying he was still somewhat aroused from their experiments in the workshop. She let her palm rest over his cock but the moment she did his hand was atop hers, pulling it away.
                “No.”
                It was a simple enough word. Hermione was crestfallen. She felt a heavy weight drop dead in the center of her chest. She could feel the pricks of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Rejection was one thing, but hearing it so plainly from Severus Snape after everything that had happened was quite another. Her mind raced; how would she continue to live there knowing that he’d rebuked her? How would it effect their work with George?
                “Merlin, you’re going to drive me mad.” Severus reached forward and tilted her chin up until she was forced to look at him.
                “But— me? I’m going to drive you mad?” she all but cried. “You just said—”His finger landed hard on her lips. They shared a look and Hermione wasn’t sure if she was more hurt or more confused. His lips twitched just the slightest, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a—”
                “Watch your tongue, Miss Granger. I’m liable to wash it with soap if you keep slinging insults.”
                “But you just said—”
                Again he brought his finger to her lips. “I’m going to get duct tape if you don’t stop talking.” His voice was heavy and for a moment she believed he was serious. When she swallowed hard and held her lips firmly together, he continued. “I said no, Miss Granger, because I am not having you work me up here in Mr. Weasley’s flat. Aside from the obvious things wrong with that scenario, I’ve gone quite enough in these last few hours and given your current condition, the remainder of tonight’s product testing will require me to go a few times more, a task which I shall find nigh impossible if I let you have your way here and now.”
                It was the longest series of sentences she’d ever heard him utter in one breath. But she couldn’t take it all in before her mouth was leaping ahead of her mind. “So you weren’t rejecting me?”
                Severus rolled his eyes. “Miss Granger…” he shook his head and then sighed. “You will be the death of me.”
                “That doesn’t sound like no…” Her words brought on a glare from him. She blushed but did not look away. They sat in silence for a few moments more before her inquisitive mouth got the better of her. “Can I ask you something?”
                “If I say no will it stop you from asking?”
                It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes. “Please, Severus, I’m asking an honest question.” When he didn’t protest further she took it as her cue to continue. “Why did you change your mind?”
                “Don’t be so sure that I have…” his eyes raked over her figure before settling on her face. “When two individuals copulate, if there is physical attraction and the sex is enjoyable they are bound to do it again. Resisting temptation only serves to exacerbate sexual tension. You are not unattractive and seem to have found yourself attracted enough to me.” He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I was bound to slip up, Merlin knows you’re tempting enough.”
                She wasn’t sure she liked his explanation. She wasn’t sure she understood his explanation. But at least he had spoken, and although they hadn’t really discussed what had happened in the shower at Spinner’s End, she felt she had a sense of clarity with him for the briefest of moments, even if it was still mostly muddied. She would chew it over, analyze it, and ruminate upon it until she could do so no more, but that wouldn’t happen until later. There was no sense in wasting time on it in George’s flat as he was likely to pop through the door at any moment with their dinner.
                Hermione leaned her head forward and it rested against Severus’ shoulder. He didn’t push her off but he didn’t make to shrug out from beneath her either. There was a slight shift of his hand and she felt him rest his fingers just atop her thigh. A gesture, albeit miniscule, that spoke volumes in his voice’s absence. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes. “I wish he would hurry up,” she whispered.
                “Are you hungry?” he asked.
                “A bit, I guess. But really I just want to get back down into the workshop. The sooner we finish up, the sooner we can leave.”
                Severus snorted. “Do not think that because I’ve mistakenly opened Pandora’s Box that you’re going to be chatting with me through all hours of the day and night or snuggling up in my bed, Miss Granger.”
                Hermione scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Severus. Your bed is much too small for snuggling.” She sighed. There was truth in his statement. He’d admitted to being physically drawn to her and little else, but for the moment she could accept that for what it was and she would test the waters as they came. She was certain that things would get rockier before they got smoother, but at the very least she had a sense of direction in which to be headed regarding her housemate. “Do you like snuggling?”
                “It depends.”
                “On?”
                “Okay! Got chips! And grilled chicken and salads and things!” George burst into his flat with all the errant grace of a giraffe at the ballet. “Let’s see— and shakes, always shakes,” he added, setting three enormous milkshakes down onto the coffee table. Three steaming bags of chips accompanied several containers of chilled salads and boxes of savory grilled chicken. “Hope you both had a chance to rest, Severus, are you feeling any better?” he asked cautiously.
                “Fine, Mr. Weasley.”
                George’s sudden entrance had put a stop to their physical closeness. While she hadn’t leaped apart from him like a guilty lover trying to hide her affections when her husband entered the room, she had lifted her head and noticed that he’d pulled back his hand from her. Their meal was enjoyed mostly in silence. Occasionally George would make a comment about other products he knew they had yet to test or new ideas that he was formulating based on other things he’d read in the ledger. She tried not to make it obvious when she stole glances at Severus. It was disheartening that she failed to catch his eye. Her mind was asunder with everything that had happened in such a short period of time.
                Was he inviting casual intimacy between them? He had not denied craving touch or finding her attractive. But he’d also cautioned her against snuggling and chatting. If he meant to use her for sexual recreation he wouldn’t have held off as long as he had. And there were certainly other options as far as that was concerned. She couldn’t wrap her head around it and she longed to discuss it further. What few words they had exchanged had only served to add fuel to her curious fire. But her racing mind would have to wait. All too quickly their dinner had finished and George was cleaning up, ushering them back down to the workshop.
                The three of them approached the box of miscellaneous products. George sighed. “One night I think we’ll take a break from testing…and set to organizing all of this stuff. There’s still the box up in my bathroom with all the water stuff, or at least all the stuff I’d found that I thought was water related. This box here, the two big hat boxes, and a few other boxes that I’ve come across…it might be ideal to try and have some sort of working order…” he trailed off.
                “Might I suggest, Mister Weasley, given Miss Granger’s current state and the sheer exhaustion factor of this evening’s earlier activities that we set about doing that for the remainder of tonight?”
                “He’s got a point, George.” Hermione added.
                “I don’t see why not, but Severus, I’d like you to give one more thing a go…I’ve got a new flavor of LustiPop you can test too.” George moved to the far side of the workshop and returned with one of the Lustipops in his hand. It was a garish shade of orange, not unlike the orange edible briefs, and it still resembled a cock. “Orange and choc,” he said with a grin and handed it to Severus.
                Severus rolled his eyes and Hermione turned around so that he wouldn’t see her smirk. The Lustipops were a point of contention every time they had come into play. She wasn’t sure if it was more irritating to Severus that they were cloyingly sweet and often in the most heinous of flavors, or that he loathed sucking on a phallic lollypop to get him hard. Hermione didn’t envy him either way.
                “What are you going to have him test?” she asked.
                “Well…” George looked sheepish and uncertain. “I’m going to have you test it. Thoroughly, actually,” he said. Those words made Hermione’s stomach crawl. She watched George as he popped open what appeared to be an ordinary tube; the lone contents of which appeared to be a shriveled raisin. He gestured to Severus. “Are you…” he rolled his hand and nodded at his waist. Severus only nodded. Hermione couldn’t tell from the way he stood and how his robe was situated, but she doubted very much he would say he was ready to go again if he wasn’t. “Okay, great. Take your robe off and get comfy, either over on the bed, up on the table, or on the stool, whatever you like.”
                “Comfy for what, Mister Weasley?” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.
                “Hermione needs access to you…as she’s going to test this out.”
                “George, what exactly is that?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “It looks like a raisin.”
                The blush that filled George’s cheeks did nothing to quell the nerves that were already tangling in her stomach. “This is an anti-boner sweet. Truly peevish and utterly prankish, but if it works, well…the name should make it pretty obvious.”
                “George!” Hermione cried.
                Severus narrowed his eyes at the redhead. “That is a foul product you’re tinkering with, Mister Weasley.”
                George sighed. “Come off it, Severus. You know as well as I that it’ll sell like mad. It’s only temporary, a few hours at most. But it’ll be worlds of fun for anyone who’s out to ruin a perfectly good night of fun. Think about someone who’s having an affair or something of the like. Or if you’re competing with a mate over a girl…or a bloke…”
                Severus pursed his lips. “Cruel…” he shook his head. “But you are correct when you say it will sell. That sort of tawdry market always has customers.”
                “I don’t think I understand,” Hermione frowned.
                “Miss Granger, the simplicity of this product should be clear to even your overworked mind—”
                “Hush, Severus. I know what it’s designed to do. What I don’t understand is why you need me— or even how you need me to test it.” She refused to look at him in that moment, fussed that once again he’d managed to insult her with his words.
                “I want to make sure it works, Hermione.” George handed the dark colored tablet to Severus.
                “I would think it would be pretty obvious if it worked, he’s quite hard at the moment, if he takes it and suddenly he’s not hard, it should prove itself.”
                “Well, yes…” George’s lips quirked to the side. “But I want to see how long it lasts. I mean I won’t have you trying to get him aroused for hours…but at least give it a good effort to make sure it’s not just a deflating charm or short-lived.”
                His words clarified the situation, but did not put her mind at ease. She looked with questioning eyes at Severus, who was still scrutinizing the product with narrowed eyes and a firm scowl on his lips. “So you’ll want me to…try my best then?” George nodded. “Alright.” Hermione looked once again at Severus. “Do you want to be on the bed?”
                He shrugged his shoulders. “It makes no difference to me. If this thing works as intended, then your efforts should be for naught regardless of where I situate myself.”
                “Right. Well, the bed, then. I can maneuver on it if I need to try a few different things.”
                “Fred’s original notes said it should provide three to four hours of dysfunction. So if after a good thorough testing it does as intended, we’ll settle into organizing. By the time we finish separating and categorizing the effects should have worn off, and we can test it with something simple, and then call it a night. I know it’ll be late than usual, but I don’t’ mind it if you two don’t.”
                “I suppose that’s alright,” said Hermione. Severus remained quiet. She knew that if he were going to mind it he would speak up. And when he didn’t, she nodded over to the bed. “Let’s get you— on second thought…George how long before it’s supposed to take effect?”
                “Immediately, I think.”
                She looked at Severus. “Are you going to take it?”
                Without further commentary, Severus swallowed the raisin-like pill, pulling his robes back just enough to bare his erection. As George had predicted, his cock was already beginning to soften, taking just another moment to settle into a completely flaccid state. “Well that’s a good start,” George said. “Do you feel any different? Numbness? Tingling?”
                “No, Mister Weasley.”
                Hermione drew her robe around her figure a bit more tightly as she watched him walk over to the bed. There was something pitiable about his naked figure exposed and limp, but she pushed that thought from her mind. The last thing she needed was to drag emotions into the work; things were complicated enough with all that had already been brought up that evening. She took a moment to compose herself, and then moved over to her clothes and fetched her wand. “Give him that Lustipop again, George. Let’s be thorough. That first and then I know there are a few spells that are meant to— well I suppose I don’t know that they’re actually going to work, I’ve only read about them, but it’s worth a try even if they are rubbish spells, right?”
                “Good thinking, Hermione. I figured you’d just work with your hands and your mouth, or whatever. But that’s actually really clever. Go for it.”
                She swallowed hard. She had seldom heard girls tittering in the dormitories back at Hogwarts about such spells, but she knew they existed. There had never been a reason to research such things. Though her sexual involvement with Ron had always been dissatisfying for her, he had never had a problem with being erect and ready to go when he wanted sex. Hermione closed her eyes trying to think if she had ever read about such spells. Once during a medical malpractice case that had been brought against St. Mungos and she had been doing interoffice research for, but her brain was fuzzy on the details. “George do you have a copy of— oh nevermind,” she muttered. Asking George Weasley if he had a copy of any textbook was like asking her housemate to open up about his emotions, hell would sooner freeze over before either became a reality.
                “Hmm?” She noted that he had taken his place at the stool with the ledger book. “Everything alright?”
                “Yes, fine,” she sighed and turned to look at Severus. He was seated on the edge of the bed, eyeing her. “You don’t know any of those spells, do you?”
                “Do I look as if I’d have a reason to know them, Miss Granger?” he asked.
                “Do I?’ she countered. It brought a smile to her lips to see him smirk just the slightest.
                “Regardless,” he said after a moment. “If this isn’t going to thwart his little concoction,” he said shaking the orange Lustipop, “I very much doubt that any of those spells will. They’re mostly rubbish. Half-baked ideas and attempts at spells created by desperate young wizards who are too embarrassed to seek out proper treatment for their inability to perform sexually.”
                There was an answer for everything when it came to Severus, though she couldn’t deny that as usual, he was probably right. She recalled having great difficulty finding origins in print for those spells during that particular trial and if what he had just said was true, she could now understand why it had been such a task. “The Lustipop then?” she said and waited. Hermione watched as he sucked the phalli lolly into his mouth. Her eyes shifted down his torso, watching the way his cock rested limp just in his lap. But after several moments, nothing happened.
                “Well, George, so far so good. The Lustipop did nothing. And we’re passing on the spells since Severus nor I can seem to remember how they go.” She smirked when Severus glowered at her, knowing full well that he would not correct her despite the fact that she had purposefully misspoken. “I’m going to try a few other things…time me?”
                “Yeah, sure, Hermione. Be thorough. If this works…” he was scribbling in the ledger, half distracted as always.
                Hermione stood in front of him for a moment, thoroughly prepared to drop to her knees and take him into her mouth, but then an idea struck her. “Stand up, would you?” she asked. He didn’t hesitate and within a moment was standing just in front of her, their bodies pressed closely together. “Turn around,” she added. As Severus moved to turn, she slipped out of her robe. “And close your eyes,” she whispered. With his back now facing hers, she took a step forward and pressed her naked chest against his back. Arms encircled his figure and she let her hands come to rest just below his navel. She pressed her lips gingerly at the center of his back, just below his shoulder blades, slowly letting her fingers tease the curls of his pubic mound.
                While hers had still not regrown, he had never been completely shorn of his and the wiry thatch of hair served as a good starting point for teasing him into an aroused state. The closeness of their bodies and the heat of her skin pressing into his made her own core tremble and she only hoped that it was doing the same for him. Seldom had the occasion called for them to be pressed so closely together, and never yet had she been the one behind him. Hermione closed her eyes, concentrating on letting her fingers glide downward until she had one hand cupping his balls and gently rolling them in her palm while the other idly stroked his length. It was strange feeling his cock without a response.
                Her lips trailed down between his shoulder blades, circling over to the side of his body as she slid beneath his arm and turned him around so that she was now facing the front of him and his backside was to the makeshift bed. Hermione kept one hand stroking slowly and evenly against his cock; the other hand still fondling his balls as she leaned her lips against his torso. She felt his body tense when she traced her tongue over his left nipple and she paused only a moment to glance up at him. His eyes were closed, his head bowed forward, and she noted that he was breathing just the slightest bit heavier than he had been before.
                She slid her hand further under him, letting her fingers slide away from his sac, one finger stroking deliberate circles around the taut ring of muscles that she knew brought him a great deal of stimulation. There was a gasp, soft and sudden, but it did nothing for his flaccid member still warm in her other hand. Her lips suckled at his nipple, grazing it slightly with her teeth and it earned her another gasp. She’d never been so bold and daring with a lover before. Their interactions in the workshop had not allowed for such exploratory gestures, and what had happened in the shower had been mostly driven by him. She tried not to think of Ron while letting her lips roam over his chest.
                Nudging her finger up, she pressed into him, feeling the tight heat of him envelop her digit. His body stiffened against her and she felt him brace himself against her hip. “Anything?” she whispered against his skin but she knew the answer. She could feel that he was still limp in her hand. His breathing was heavier then, her finger curling inside of him to tickle at his prostate. She trailed her lips down his torso, nipping and licking his skin as she went. With only a slight wobble, she dropped onto her knees and wrapped her other hand around his backside giving him a firm slap on his cheek.
                She closed her eyes and pressed a delicate kiss against the tip of his cock. Pulling his length into her mouth she began to bob her head back and forth as she worked him over with her tongue. She slapped him again, this time a bit harder, her finger still penetrating him, while she swirled her tongue around his shaft. Severus grunted, his hips rocking forward, and she paused her ministrations, long enough to let his cock slip from her mouth. “Can you still feel—”
                “Everything,” he groaned, rolling his hips forward, as if the sudden loss of her mouth was excruciating torture. Hermione bit her lower lip for only a moment before she brought her lips once more around his cock. Careful swirls of her tongue under his shaft and at the joint of his head where she recalled him saying he was sensitive, had him once again arching his hips at her face. But there was nothing for it; his cock remained flaccid, not a hint of erection to be seen.
                “Can I try something else?” she offered, her own voice laced with a tremor that she hadn’t expected. He only nodded, but she saw his response just the same. She was careful as she eased her finger out of him, slapping his backside once more for good measure, before she pulled herself to her feet and pushed him backward onto the bed. He fell, though somehow managed to do so gracefully, and before he could sit upright or situate himself, Hermione crawled atop him and began to rock her sex over his center. It was a forceful grinding motion, a bit like the way she’d once given Viktor Krum a lap dance. Only she’d felt the exact affect her body had had on the Bulgarian.
                Hermione could feel her own body’s frustrations working against her and she reprimanded herself. She was meant to be arousing him, not working toward her own release. Both hands gripped his shoulders and with some effort she pulled him up toward her. He complied, wrapping both arms around her until she was astride his lap, still grinding and rocking against him. She cupped his cheeks and pulled their faces together. Lips met lips and she kissed him. A hard, passionate kiss that had her tongue snaking into his mouth, all the while her body writhing in his lap. He was panting and she was too, their chests rising and falling against each other as they sat huddled in a tight embrace.
                “Nothing?” she panted, breaking their kiss her fingers winding into his hair. She raked her nails gently back over his scalp and earned a grunt of pleasured frustration from him. Hermione loathed George Weasley and his anti-boner prank candy in that moment. She brought her lips to the side of his neck, suckling and nipping at his flesh and she felt his fingers thread into her wild messy hair. Severus bucked his hips upward against hers, and for the world it felt as if there were sparks of sex between them. Only he wasn’t erect and penetrating her with his gloriously thick rod. She whimpered, suckling on his earlobe before stilling her hips completely.
                “George, I think you’ve got your bloody product,” she pouted. Then she blushed, realizing how truly childish she sounded. It was not meant to be a reflection on her ability to arouse her partner, nor was it about her inability to find release; though working him over had certainly worked her up in a fashion that was now most taunting.
                “I’ll say,” he was blushing again. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Severus— did that, was it— I mean you look like— could you feel anything?”
                “Yes,” he growled. He had not pushed Hermione from off his lap, but sat holding her as if keeping her atop him might somehow provide him the release he desperately needed. “Your enchanted sweet only prevents erection, which is not the same as preventing arousal, Mister Weasley. You can still feel stimulated and aroused…and with enough effort achieve a release even without an erection.” His words were spat through clenched teeth and Hermione suddenly felt very sorry for him. If she’d rubbed herself harder or had continued to penetrate him with her finger perhaps he wouldn’t be so irritated. She hadn’t thought such a thing was possible.
                “So I should try to tinker with the formula then? I worry about things being all numb, though…” George turned a page in the ledger.
                “There is no need, Mr. Weasley. Most wizards would be too embarrassed to try once they discover they can’t get it up…and very few witches or wizards are likely to try and assist their partner in such an endeavor as it takes a great deal of effort to find release without an erection.” His voice was slowly returning to normal.
                “I didn’t know that,” she murmured.
                “Most people do not,” he said and then nodded at her. “Get up,” he said, gently pushing her back.
                Hermione did as she was told and stood from his lap. She retrieved her robe and slipped into it, before handing him his. “You said it lasts three or four hours?” she questioned George.
                “Yeah. The notes say three to four…so if you two want to get dressed we can have a gander at what all’s here, and sort through it. No sense in keeping you chilled in your robes if we aren’t going to test anything,” he shrugged.
                Severus stood and walked over to the hook by the door where they kept their clothing. “A walk first,” he said and nodded at George. “Miss Granger,” he motioned for her to follow him.
                Her face went pale. He was not one for company or for idle chatter. Had she pushed him too far in attempting to draw forth from him an erection? Was he going to reprimand her? She dreaded being reprimanded. She had only been following George’s instructions, to test the product thoroughly. And he had told her that it was best to use what she knew of her partner to arouse him; that nugget of information had been shared during her blowjob lesson. She cast a glance at George, somewhat seeking permission and somehow hoping that he would insist she stay behind in the workshop. But her redheaded employer shrugged his shoulders and waved her off.
                She was purposefully slow in dressing, though she realized there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Once she’d dressed, he held open the door for her and they descended the stairs down into the shop and out into the darkness of the evening. It was nearly 11pm, as the clock in the square indicated and the cool night’s breeze caused her to shiver. The pubs were open and there was a great deal of commotion coming from the alley that turned off toward Knockturne, but otherwise the streets were empty. She hadn’t thought about the fact that they’d be out in public together, even if it was incredibly late.
                Severus took to walking with his graceful stride, a stride that Hermione struggled to keep pace with owing to the fact that her legs were a good deal shorter than his. He was silent and that unnerved her. They moved through the quieted night air with purpose, as if he were intent on getting them somewhere. It wasn’t until he rounded a corner to a street in Diagon Alley with which she was less than familiar that she paused and grabbed him by the arm.
                “I’m sorry, alright?” she said, holding her ground.
                Though he’d flinched at her sudden motion, he held perfectly still in that moment, appraising her. “For what, Miss Granger?”
                Her eyes bugged out of her head. “For what? For what? Don’t tell me that you didn’t bring me out here to reprimand me for being too familiar with you in there just now…” she bowed her head and blushed furiously. “Didn’t you?”
                Severus snorted. “You will be the death of us both,” he said with a bit of a sneer on his lips. “A walk, like many things I do, is simply that. I wished to clear my head after that particular experience and thought it best you did as well.”
                Hermione balled her fists tightly at her sides. There were moments where the things he said and the way he said them really made her want to take a good solid swing at him. But she checked her temper and sighed heavily instead. “You’re taxing.”
                Again he snorted. “And you’re annoying. Over analytical, familiar, obsessive, obnoxious, and worrisome,” he added. “But you don’t hear me complaining.” She squeaked in indignation but he had turned on his heel and was facing in the direction that they had come. “Save your words, Miss Granger, the walk back is never as long as the walk to…and I wish to have some semblance of sanity intact if we are to be working these next three or four hours to organize the shambles that Mr. Weasley has amassed in his workshop.”
                She had to dash to keep up with him as he’d started back toward the shop without waiting for her response. Hermione was bristling. Her nerves were on edge and she found that she was ready to snap his head off, only her mouth thought better of it, lest she incense him entirely. When he held open the door to the joke shop, she only nodded at him and passed through into the darkness. She paused at the base of the stairs, turning so that she faced him as he approached. “I’ll be finished tonight,” she said.
                He nodded, seeming to know exactly what she meant. “Indeed.” When he brushed past her to make his way up the steps, she frowned. While she hadn’t been expecting much by way of acknowledgement to her statement, she had hoped that they might linger a bit longer outside of the workshop before returning to what promised to be a tedious and laborious task. Resigning herself to a good four hours of organization, she trudged up the stairs after him.
                “All set then?” George asked as they entered the workshop. “I’ve pulled everything I can find, including the box from the flat with all the shower and bath stuff. I’ve gone through it once before, but it will be helpful to have on hand in case we find other products of the like.” He gestured to the makeshift bed, which was no longer a bed, but once again a long marble table in all its ordinary glory. The large hat box, along with the box of shower and bath products, sat next to the box they had been working from as well as a few other boxes she had never seen.
                “I figured,” George continued as he moved over toward the table, holding five tiny rubber dots in his palm. “We could try to separate them out…things that require penetration of one sort or another, things that require—”
                Severus cut him off. “Products for him, products for her, products for both, products for the bath and shower, and a miscellaneous category for products of an indeterminate use.” He stated.
                Hermione smirked just the slightest at the astute fashion in which he overtook the organization process. Images of his immaculate potions stores drifted around in her memory and she smiled fondly on them. Severus had always been an organized man, meticulously so. His work in the workshop would be no different and it seemed perfectly logical. “I think he has a point, George. Since there are a great deal of toys and things that could be used for penetration for man or a woman and in a month’s time when my cycle starts again— if we’re still testing in a month’s time…” She hadn’t thought about how long they might remain employed with George. How long could it possibly take to go through everything that Fred had concocted? She glanced back at the table. They’d already done a great deal of testing and the boxes looked quite full. “Is this everything? Or just what still needs to be tested?”
                “Ah. It’s everything I could put my hands on that we haven’t yet explored. There’s a separate box for everything we’ve worked with so far. Actually it’s more of a shelf that’s been split in two— things that are ready and things that need adjusting— but you get the idea,” he said and nodded at the boxes. “I don’t want to say this is everything because I swear every time I turn around I’ve found something tucked away in some obscure place here in the workshop…but this is the majority of it.”
                Severus had taken the tiny rubber dots from George’s hand. “Enchanted?” he asked.
                “Ah, yeah. Modeled after Hermione’s never-ending bag, actually. Ron said it was a big help during the war.” Nobody spoke after the mention of Ron. But after a moment had passed, George drew his wand and nodded for Severus to put the rubber dots down on the floor. With a flick and a wave, the dots blossomed into five large rubber tubs. “They’ll hold everything. So…products for him in the blue container and products for her in the red one…products for both in the purple one? And the bath products can go in the yellow tub. Whatever is left we can put in the green one.”
                It seemed to make sense enough she supposed. Hermione moved over to the table. “You said everything in this box is bath and shower stuff?” she picked up the box. “The whole box can go in the yellow one then?”
                “Yeah. It’s all bath and shower stuff…so far as I can tell. I’m sure there might be more mixed into those other boxes, but all of that can go into the yellow bin.” Hermione nodded and set the box down into the yellow bin.
                Time seemed to move quickly as they began to sort through the boxes. Some of the products were easily assigned to a bin, and some were not. There were quite a few products that had no notes or description in either the ledger or on the container, and a great deal of these discoveries ended up in the green bin. It was almost alarming how many things ended up in the green bin, and Hermione hoped that they would somehow vanish and find a new home elsewhere before it was time to test them. There were several products that piqued her interest and a few that seemed down right laughable.
                “A broomstick?” she asked, pulling what appeared to be an ordinary racing broom out of one of the boxes. “Is this supposed to be in there?”
                George, who was mostly flipping through the ledger as Hermione and Severus sorted, glanced up. “I don’t rightly know,” he said. “Is it an actual broom?”
                Severus had taken the handle from Hermione and turned it once over in his head. “I do believe this to be a novelty product,” He said.
                “How do you figure?” George asked, once again flipping pages in hopes of finding some notes on it.
                “The handle is perfectly smooth, polished and sealed. No riding broom, racing or otherwise, has this sort of finish.” His words turned George’s skin a bright shade of red.
                “What does that have to do with anything?” Hermione asked.
                “A regular broomstick handle is coarse, Miss Granger. Ask any Quidditch player.”
                “He’s right,” George said, still flushed. “You try not to tamper with the wood too much or else it doesn’t fly right.”
                Hermione still looked perplexed. “Is it meant to…” as a potential use for such a thing dawned on her, scarlet filled her face. “Do you mean to say that you’re meant to—”
                “I don’t know, Hermione…I mean maybe it was just meant to fly on?”
                Severus snorted. “Another absurd notion concocted by the hormonal youth of Hogwarts,” he muttered. “How anyone could manage any sort of penetrating intercourse while atop a broom midair is both beyond my comprehension and the laws of physics. Levitation is impossible enough with proper concentration. Throw fuckery into the mix and you’re asking for an accident.”
                George moved over to more closely examine the broom. “I wonder though…maybe Fred was working on that illogical notion…if it’s a hover broom…with a stabilizing agent…” He twisted the handle over in his hands and jumped back when it began to vibrate. “Or maybe it’s meant for what I thought it was meant for,” he grimaced.
                “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to shove a broom up their—”
                “You would be shockingly surprised, Miss Granger. The number of dunderhead students…” he shook his head. “Particularly young closeted students who had…experimented…with such notions…only to find themselves in the Hospital Wing for splinters in the most unfortunate of places.” As Severus spoke, Hermione watched the shade of red in George’s cheeks deepen into a rich purple. She didn’t dare ask it, but had the sneaking suspicion that George Weasley was not only one of those aforementioned students, but one that Severus Snape had perhaps caught in a very unfortunate and compromising position.
                “Right, erm…green bin then,” George cleared his throat and scurried quickly back to his ledger.
                When the clock in the workshop rang out half two, Hermione yawned. They’d sorted nearly every product that had been found. Severus was putting the last two things— a pair of oversized underwear and a strange looking foam ball— into the purple bin. She turned to George. “That about does it for tonight then?”
                He too yawned. “Yeah. And you should be right to work normal tomorrow?” he asked. She nodded. “Great. Then we’ll tackle— well. There’s heaps. We can figure that out tomorrow.” Without further discussion, George summoned up two satchels of coins, paid them, bid them goodnight, and disappeared up into his flat.
                Severus did not wait for Hermione as he departed the shop and by the time she’d reached the street he was gone. She wondered if he were frustrated with her or merely tired. It was a shock when she entered Spinner’s End to see him seated on the garish patchwork couch, a warm blaze going in the hearth. “I figured you’d be in bed,” she said and came to stand behind the couch.
                “And have you beating down the door so you could ask your questions?” he scoffed.
                Hermione narrowed her eyes at the back of his head. When she’d finished glaring she moved around to the side of the couch and then slid over the arm, sinking down into the squishy depths of the cushion. The fire was blazing a delicious heat across the room and she felt contented for a moment. But her mind did not idle long. “Why did George look so embarrassed when you started talking about unfortunate students and their brooms?”
                The question she had asked had caught him off-guard as he raised his eyebrows at her. “It is not my story to tell, Miss Granger.”
                She bit her lower lip, pouting for a moment, and then slid the tiniest bit closer to him. “You can tell me anyway…or I can ask you about last night in the shower…”
                Severus rolled his eyes. “Merlin, you are tasking.”
                “So?”
                He sighed. “If you so much as think about breathing this tale in front of that tortured inventor that calls himself our employer, I shall deny having told you…and then turn you out onto the street.” He did not wait for her to affirm that she understood him before continuing on with the story. “Mr. Weasley found himself in an unfortunate circumstance for any wizard.”
                “And?” Hermione had leaned toward him, her elbows resting on her knees, her eyes wide as if taking him in fully would help her further absorb the tale. Severus stared at her. He was quiet for a long moment and she couldn’t tell if she’d annoyed him with her over-eager curiosity or if he were rethinking his choice in telling her George’s story. “I’m sorry, Severus, I just—”
                His finger stopped her words. She fell silent at his touch as if it were a routine they had been practicing for years. The flames from the hearth cast curious shadows across his face. She realized that as he’d leaned forward to silence her and as she’d leaned into his tale they were now quite close together, their bodies brushing and touching in several places. His thigh was pressed against hers and her hand rested close to his knee. She closed her eyes and waited, just taking in the closeness of his figure. She hadn’t noted the little sitting room to be particularly chilly, but in that moment she was grateful for the fire.
                It radiated a warmth, one that was amplified by being so close to him, and she experienced the overwhelming urge to shift her body into him and curl up against him. It was a temptation that was difficult to resist. He was sitting casually enough and had she been more impulsive she could have easily crawled into his lap and rested her head upon his shoulder. But Hermione checked her impulse and waited in the silence; the only sound that filled the room being the crackling from the hearth. His finger slipped down her lip, and she felt him trail his fingertip down her chin and then down further over the curve of her jaw. A sharp intake of breath was her response when he cupped the side of her face and tilted it forward.
                His lips hovered just at her ear. Hermione could feel her heart racing in her chest; the thundering echoing so loud she was certain he could hear it as well. The warmth of the fire was intensified, the heat of his body leaned in so closely to hers magnifying it tenfold. Every nerve stood on edge as she felt his lips move against her ear, his whisper a silent breath of words that stoked the fire between her legs.
                “You are far too eager for your own good.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he spoke. “And it would do you well to learn that information should not be bargained for unless you’re willing to pay the price.”
                His lips withdrew and Severus leaned back from her. Hermione’s eyes flew open and she stared at him. He was sitting on the couch as if he hadn’t leaned in and whispered intimately into her ear. Her body felt the shivers of his retreated presence. He met her gaze but his face was passive. After a moment, she shifted her body so that her legs were tucked up under her. This brought her much closer to him. She expected him to flinch or to quirk an eyebrow, but when he did not, she pressed her luck. “I’m willing to pay the price,” she offered. Though she hadn’t sounded as bold as she’d hoped, her voice had been level and even.
                His movement had caught her by surprise and so she shrieked when she was hauled suddenly up into his lap. Her legs were jumbled on either side of him and both of his hands were firmly gripped at her hips. It stole her breath and her wide eyes frantically searched his. Was she frightened by him or had the surprise merely taken over her response? She bit her lower lip but quickly stopped when he narrowed his eyes at her. The fire popped loudly behind her and she jumped, though his hands held her in place. “You want to know Mr. Weasley’s story?” he asked.
                Hermione swallowed hard, taking a moment to find her voice. “Yes. Or you can take my previous offer of discussing last night.”
                Severus scoffed. “Come now, Miss Granger. What is there to discuss? You were there as well as I, you know what happened. And all the discussion in the world is unlikely to give you what you seek, which is reasoning and logic for why it happened. I have already given you the closest thing to such notions that will appease that situation.” His hands slid up her body and she tensed as she felt him pause just at the side of her breasts. “Frightened now, are we?” he asked with a smirk.
                “N-no.” She cursed under her breath at her stammered response. This was madness. He was playing her like some child’s game and all she had wanted was answers. “Severus, what do you want?” she asked, her voice much more firm and assertive.
                This drew a dark and yet somehow delicious sound from him. He chuckled, but only for a moment and she felt the sound reverberate through her chest. His hands clutched at the side of her ribs, just below her breasts and she faltered as he pulled her body slowly forward. She had not been expecting the shift in balance and despite his controlled arm movements, Hermione found her face just in front of his, her body pressed downward against his chest. It was stirring the blood in her veins and she wished for all the world that she could put a handle on her hormones, if only for just a moment so that she could think clearly around him.
                “You didn’t answer my question…” her eyes closed and she whimpered as she felt his right hand slide around her back and slowly down until it landed on her arse. His fingers drummed against the swell of her right cheek, his palm resting casually against the small of her back.
                “Tell me about this…” his hand slipped down between the band of her joggers and beyond the band of her knickers until his fingers were touching her skin. She gasped, feeling his slender, spidery digits tracing intricate circles just over the well-hidden tattoo that she knew to be there. Her face flushed a deep scarlet and at once she tried to wriggle away from his lap. But he was strong and with only one hand he held her firmly in place. The dark chuckle had returned to his voice. “You see? Not so forthcoming with information, are you, Miss Granger?”
                Hermione could feel heat rising up through her. A warmth that was half driven by lust and half driven by embarrassment and revolt. She squirmed against his lap but was unable to extricate herself from atop his thighs. His eyes were piercing in the shadows of the firelight, even more so than they normally were and she found herself overwhelmed staring into them. He searched her eyes and after a moment he squeezed her arse. She yelped, though quickly covered her mouth, feeling foolish for having done so. There was a gush of pleasure from his touch, which mingled poorly with the frustration she was currently feeling. Her mind and her body were at odds. Her body wished nothing more than to push him back, grind her hips down into his lap and snog his face off. But her mind was whirling with the psychological and emotional implications of the situation.
                She felt his other hand sliding up the front of her chest until it tilted her chin downward, forcing her to look into his eyes. Hermione held his gaze though it drove her mad to do so, and when he raised an eyebrow at her she felt her resolve crumble. “You will be the death of me,” she mocked. This earned her a swat on the arse and she whimpered.
                “That did not hurt,” he eyed her suspiciously. Severus held her gaze, one hand still resting on her bare cheek, the other now placed against her collarbone. His fingers slid over her flesh, circling the precise spot of her tattoo. “If you’re not inclined to share, I’ve other things to do this evening.”
                He was a snake. A well-practiced serpent toying with its meal before devouring it in one single swallow, but Hermione was clever. She would play his game and win it. She bit her lower lip and tilted her head back just enough that reaching to pry her lip from her teeth as he had prone to doing would make an awkward reach for him. She drew in slow and steady breaths and then nodded her head. “After the war…those first few months back at Hogwarts— I had to finish…but I no longer belonged. I’d seen— there were things—”
                “You were changed.” He said.
                There was an understanding in that moment that shook her deeply. He too had been through a war; he had been through two wars. Serving two masters, trying desperately to protect Harry. How any one person could have survived what he did and carry on in an almost ordinary fashion was beyond her comprehension. It was not something she had ever given consideration before that moment. Hermione sighed and shook her head. Her eyes met his and she rocked her hips slightly, shifting her body in an attempt to stand up from his lap. “I don’t think I’m much for sharing anymore,” she muttered.
                “Pity,” he said after a moment. Though he did not make to move the hand that rested on her arse, she noted that he let his other hand rest at his side. Hermione shifted back against his lap, sliding her legs out on either side of him and with a slow and somewhat unsteady motion, she stood up. His hand fell away from her backside and she took a timid step back from him before sitting down on the couch beside him. They were no longer touching. He studied her; his eyes watching her every movement as she shifted back into the cushions.
                “I felt numb,” she said after a spell of sitting quietly, gazing into her lap. “Sometimes I still do, though not as much.” He was silent, simply watching her, waiting for her to speak. “I spent the Christmas hols alone…” Hermione could feel her chest shaking as she spoke. “I told the school I was going to The Burrow…told Molly I was staying at school.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I had to try and find them?” she sounded uncertain of herself as if telling the tale aloud was justifying it somehow. “I did, of course…but I couldn’t undo what I’d done.”
                It had been a harrowing experience; the search for her parents in Australia, and then realizing that even if she had been skilled enough to restore their memories— though she was quite certain she would have given it a valiant effort— that it was no life for them. To say her decision had been difficult was a kindness to her broken heart. She could feel the tears beginning to well up in her eyes, but she was determined not to cry in front of him. Hermione blinked her eyes hard, turning her face to the fire. “So on Christmas Eve I found myself in a beach town on the coast…alone…and I met a bloke. Just an ordinary muggle man…” She wrapped her arms around her chest.
                “He was rather fond of the bottle that day and I became his drinking partner.” She closed her eyes, a single tear leaking down over her cheek. “Next thing I knew we were in his mate’s flat…I was half naked on a table,” she cleared her throat. “He said a pretty girl needed all parts of her too look pretty, and I was too drunk and empty and numb to argue.” Hermione opened her eyes, though they were red and watering. “It hurt, but it was the first honest thing I’d felt since before the war. I bled too much, he told me later, or I would have let him and his mate run that needle until I was covered.”
                She fell silent. Flames licked the logs in the hearth, lazy slow crackles and pops as they burned. The room was quiet. She didn’t speak nor did he. They sat beside one another, and although she would not face him, she could see his eyes upon her. Hermione knew if she turned her head to look at him that she would burst into tears. Severus Snape was not the comforting sort, and although he tended to her when he was concerned, she doubted that he would pull her into his arms and let her cry it out. When the waves of turbulent emotions passed, she exhaled slowly and then leaned forward, ready to stand from the couch.
                His hand just at the side of her knee stopped her cold. Her eyes went first to his hand, which rested now half on her kneecap, and then she glanced at his face. His eyes were soft, a gentle pool of blackness that she had never seen before. The swirls of forbidden emotions were there, but they drifted along behind something else. It might have been compassion, perhaps empathy, or even pity. She couldn’t name it, but she felt comforted to see it. There were no words, only his touch. But there was no need for words. Hermione closed her eyes and nodded, letting trembling fingers rest atop his hand.
                It was a subtle embrace, her hand over his, but the warmth of his skin eased her pain. She sat that way for what felt like hours. His hand just against her leg and her hand just over his. She watched his eyes, she watched the fire, and she watched the way his chest rose and fell. Steady even breaths as they sat in each other’s silent company. When the flames had all but died, he gave her knee the gentlest of squeezes before pulling back his hand. Severus stood from the sofa and nodded at her.
                She stood as well, their bodies close but not touching. Her eyes searched his and he brushed two fingers against her cheek. She closed her eyes, leaning ever so slightly into his caress. “Go put the kettle on, Miss Granger. Clearly, no one is sleeping tonight.”
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