Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 131968 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
A/N: Thank you all for keeping up with this! 13,500 new words and they took me ages, largely because I wrote myself into a corner and the only two possible outcomes were impossible. One path had Hermione walking out on me as a muse and the other had Severus doing exactly the same. So had I to backtrack, re-write, revisit, and reassess. I think I’ve found another way out, only I’m not terribly sure that that has done that any better. More sex— proper, smutty, filthy sex in this chapter, I promise. Also as a trigger warning, there is a segment that might read as dubious consent where sex is involved. Pray that I haven’t written myself into another corner-wall. Thank you all again, so much, for not giving up on this tale!
FrancineHibiscus— I think there is a notification setting somewhere? I think. But far be it from me to know how to activate it! Bonus chocolate for you because you used one of my favorite words— gormless! And yes, I too have a keen feeling that things are not going to go well for Hermione when that letter finally gets addressed.
NoJustice— Patience! There are of course answers, but you certainly don’t think Nigel would be divulging them to Hermione, even if she had been a gracious hostess. And certainly Severus isn’t one to just open up and heart pour. But there are answers! Of course, you can’t get answers about a specific someone if the specific someone isn’t really around in that chapter! So there are answers, and you will get them! But you’ll have to be patient!! And this goes for everyone asking and wondering about Nigel and Severus, there will be more information. When the time is right.
OracleObscured— Why is nobody concerned that his penis might actually just burn off?!? HA. At any rate, your reviews are delightful, and it’s uncanny how very much insight you bring to what you’re reading, almost like you’re spying on me as I work. *double checks windows* At any rate, you just might be onto something about magical build-up…and yes, I too yelled at Hermione, urging her to put the letter back (if she wasn’t going to read it and purposefully destroy it because of what it said then what in Zeus’ butthole was she thinking?!? Clearly, she listens to me about as well as she listens to you!) but to no avail…I’m almost certain it’s going to be unpleasant. Legillimencing! Love it!
Okay, okay, okay, now that I’ve prattled on long enough to wind everybody….and I promise, I added an extra 2,500 words to make up for it…onward!

                A fountain of bright red and orange flames was consuming his erection and Hermione was aghast. It was as if she were frozen in some nightmare, half-expecting to be shook awake only to realize his flaming cock was all a dream. Only it wasn’t a dream. She could hear George exclaiming mightily from beside her, or behind her, it was difficult to discern because the only thing that held her attention in that moment was Severus’ flaming cock. She was apparently panicking enough for the both of them, which was good as he seemed completely un-phased by the fact that flames were engulfing his manhood.
                “Severus!” she screeched.
                He remained seated on the edge of the bed, one hand quickly, but calmly, grabbing up a fistful of his robe and squashing it against his manhood. After a moment he pulled the robe back; the flames remained. He stared intently down at his cock, as if contemplating something. Severus put his robe back beside him on the bed and then ever so slowly ran his hand up the length of his shaft. His hand passed through the flames as if they were nothing, mere bits of smoke and reflection.
                “Bloody hell,” George breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “You’re not actually— I mean— are you ok?”
                “It would appear so,” said Severus, his voice smooth and nonchalant. “A visual effect, albeit a startling one, and there is a tingling heat, though nothing like what the visual stimuli might infer.”
                Hermione swallowed hard. Her heart was racing, blood pounding hard against her temples and in her ears. “Are you— are you— you’re not actually on fire?” she gasped.
                “Hardly, Miss Granger,” said Severus. He frowned. “You appear disappointed. Perhaps you were hoping it was actual fire?”
                She swore she saw the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips, but as in all things related to emotional expressivity with Severus Snape, it was gone before she could properly identify it. However, she felt her face flush redder than any flame— visually simulated or not— consuming him, a sullied hybrid of embarrassment and fury sweeping through her face. “No,” she muttered tersely and then pulled herself up from the floor. She felt stupid for having reacted as such but it had looked as if his cock had spontaneously burst into flames. Though she supposed, upon further consideration of the matter, that had such a thing actually happened he would have immediately reacted in excruciating pain.
                “Wow” said George and then moved to kneel just in front of Severus. “Can I?” he nodded at him.
                “Go ahead, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said, again his voice neutral and nonplussed.
                Hermione watched as George ran his fingers over the turgid length of Severus’ flaming erection. The fire seemed to have no adverse effect on his ability to stand at attention. She flushed and looked away when George gave Severus’ member another firm jerk. It was bad enough to have thought about that whelp of a boy doing unspeakable things with him, she did not need to visualize George Weasley jacking him off. But the moment passed as moments did and George was standing beside her, nodding at Severus. “Go on, Hermione,” he said. “It feels— well it’s heated, but I need you to do a four-way test, as it were. Hand, mouth, va-jay-jay, back door…” he nodded again. “Go on.”
                She snorted, but did not linger on it. George calling it a va-jay-jay was ridiculous, and referring to her rear as a back door was somehow even more ridiculous; it made her insides jiggle with humor. But there was no time to enjoy that ridiculous moment because she was now faced with a flaming hot Severus, quite literally. Hermione’s brow creased and she frowned. “Are you sure it’s…completely safe? I don’t wish to be burned— well, anywhere, but especially not in my…va-jay-jay,” she said and as she did she could have sworn she also heard Severus snort. But his face betrayed nothing.
                George chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Unless your va-jay-jay has some spontaneous igniting combustability thing going on...” he said half questioning. Hermione did not dignify his absurdity with a response. Instead she turned around and stared once more at Severus.
                “Wherever you’d care to start, Miss Granger,” he said with a shrug. “I’d suggest hand, then mouth, and so on…but it’s your call.”
                She nodded and then gestured for him to spread his legs. Lowering herself onto the floor once more, she knelt beside him and carefully curled her fingers around the base of his flaming shaft. Though she had been hesitant, once she had him gripped in her hand she grew more confident in the fact that it was not going to singe her skin. Severus was right, it was heated, and not unpleasantly. She was slow and deliberate, working her hand up and down his shaft, though it felt no different than how he felt ordinarily, aside from the slight tingling with the heat.
                “Good, good,” she heard George say. But she was too focused on the task at hand. Releasing Severus’ flaming cock from her palm, Hermione cautiously lowered her head and ever so delicately slithered her tongue out between her lips, giving the tip of his circumcised shaft the shallowest, lightest lick she could manage. When her tongue did not burst into flames, she slowly drew his tip into her mouth. The heat intensified but was still manageable and she noted that her cheeks began to tingle just the tiniest bit. Hermione drew him further into her mouth, sucking her lips around him as he had instructed. She enjoyed pleasing him, this much she knew, but she hadn’t been given much of an opportunity outside of what they’d done in the workshop to truly hone this skill, and feared that she was still somewhat sloppy.
                “How’s it feel?” George asked.
                “Hot…” hissed Severus.
                Hermione tilted her head up slightly, shifting his cock in her mouth so that his tip was pressing against the back of her throat. She felt her muscles closing off, and there was a slight gagging sensation, but she pulled back quickly to keep from actually choking herself. In that brief second which she had gazed upon him from between his legs with his cock buried in her mouth, he looked divine. There was something crudely pleasurable about the way the pleasure was streaking across his face, all of his self-control unable to contain it. She grinned just a little before a tremble of pleasure rippled through her and she had to cough into her shoulder to hide her moan.
                Severus did not ask if she were alright. Whatever added heat her mouth had provided to the flaming chocolate enchantment was nearly more than he could bare. “Get…up…” he hissed, fingers grasping blindly at her. Before Hermione could respond properly, his fingers had found purchase on her flesh and his hands were pulling her roughly up from her knees, all but hoisting her up into his lap. She cried out in surprise as he pressed their chests together. She could feel his heart thumping through his chest and his flaming cock pressing hard against her stomach. “Now…” he hissed. Little beads of sweat had formed at his temple and she was sorely tempted to lick at them; the whole situation was beyond erotic.
                “Okay…okay…” she panted, once again her face flushing. She could feel her own natural slickness between her legs, desperate and needy and ready. With just a bit of shifting and lifting, she arched her hips up and settled her entrance over the tip of his flaming cock. Hermione had intended to slide slowly down onto his length, but the heat of the enchantment had a full hold on him and Severus had other plans. “Oooh!” she cried suddenly having his full length thrust up into her. It was like being impaled; there was a full, throbbing sensation of his cock filling her in the upright position, and a new added heat which tingled all through her. It was maddening and pushing toward the borders of painful.
                But she wasn’t given time to think on it further. Strong, masculine hands gripped her hips and began to yank her up and down, bouncing her hard and fast in his lap. “Fuck,” she heard him hiss, and felt his forehead press against hers.
                Hermione was dizzy with pleasure and pain and strange sensations. She’d been fucked in his lap before but he was thrusting up into her rather than her riding him. She could feel her walls clenching hard against the tingling heat of his shaft, her own breath coming in ragged gasps so hard that she almost did not recognize them as her own. Their bodies were all but fused together and with another hard upward thrust she felt his body shudder and he groaned. It was a guttural sound, filling her ears, sending shivers down her spine. Hermione whimpered, her own walls clenching against his cock as it twitched inside of her. It felt like an orgasm, at least almost like one, but with more heat and tingling and she felt very dizzy.
                She thanked her lucky stars he’d been seated on the bed because not a moment later he’d collapsed back into the mattress and she nearly fell from his lap. “Oh!” she cried, and ground her knees down into the mattress on either side of his thighs to keep herself from pitching completely off of him.
                “Sorry,” he rasped, his voice a breathy shambles.
                “Well…um…erm…alright then. That was hot,” George snickered. “Literally. Severus, could you—”
                “I need…a moment…Mr. Weasley…” he panted.
                “Right,” said George and hastily rose to his feet. “I’ll just um…yeah…I’ll give you a moment,” he said, and shuffled quickly off toward the stairs, heading up to his flat.
                Hermione rolled her eyes. But she didn’t want to think about whether or not he was dashing off up the stairs to wank off to what he’d just seen. Even if it was absolutely what he was doing, she didn’t need to know. Her own breathing was coming down to something that resembled normal. Drawing in deep breaths of cool air, she gazed down at Severus who was still panting hard on the bed. “Would you like me to get you some water?” she offered.
                Surprisingly, he nodded his head yes. It only took her a moment to carefully dismount him, draw her robe around her, and fetch a glass of water. When she’d returned to the bed, he was seated upright, leaning back halfway on his forearms, still panting though slower, and still completely naked. Her eyes roamed down his figure, lingering on his crotch. His cock was now flaccid and no longer flaming. She handed him the glass of water, which he took with a grateful nod. She waited a moment and then sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress. “Are you alright?”
                “I’m fine, Miss Granger,” he said. “Thank you.”
                She sighed. “That was hot,” she admitted. “Not just…I mean actually hot, physically and sexually.”
                “I believe that was the point,” he said. His voice had almost returned to normal.
                Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. “And you’re sure you’re—” the warmed palm of his hand against the side of her face stopped her words. It wasn’t the harsh, calloused pad of his finger pressed against her lips or his own brutal lips seizing hers, but it was him. His touch was once again silencing her. She tilted her head over and looked at him. “Sorry, it just seemed to take a lot out of you.”
                Much again to her surprise, Severus nodded. “It was more intense than most things we’ve tested, and I’d no preparation as such, given that its effect were a complete mystery from the onset.”
                “Right,” she said, poised to add something but then thinking better of it.
                “Are we— is everyone good?” George called down, opening the door from his flat into the workshop.
                “All good, George,” Hermione called up. “Though if every one of those sweets is going to require as thorough a testing you’re going to need a full box of Lustipops for us both,” she admitted.
                “Mysterious Marvels, I think they’re called,” said George as he reappeared beside the bed.
                “Chocolate Madness is what they ought to be called,” she huffed.
                “That’s sort of clever, actually,” George grinned. He picked up the quill and began to scratch things down in the ledger. “Chocolate…madness…Hermione’s…idea…” He looked up at her and smiled. “Okay, are you ready for another? Oh! Goodness, you said Lustipops, right!” he all but sprang up from his spot, bounded across the workshop and appeared a moment later with the phallic shaped wonder candies. “Here we are!” he plucked up a bright pink one and a dark brown one. “Strawberry banana for Hermione,” he said handing her the bright pink one. “And fudge for Severus,” he said, handing the darker one to Severus.
                Hermione looked at Severus. They shared a glance, one of revulsion and annoyance, but then both opened the crinkly plastic cellophane that contained the wonder sweet, before sucking them into their mouths. “Eugh,” she muttered and pulled the pop out. “This is very artificial tasting,” she groaned.
                “Yeah, sorry, still working out the formula for flavors and such,” George said with a shrug.
                They waited several minutes for the Lustipops to do their magic, readying themselves for Merlin only knew what as George once again held up the little golden box containing the eight remaining pieces of chocolate. She didn’t dare comment on how they’d only successfully managed to test three of the four orifices which George had been hoping to test. She couldn’t imagine what that would have felt like inside her rear end. The thought gave her a momentary shiver, so she forced herself to look into the box of chocolates.
Hermione was very hesitant as she eyed each one of them. There had been no indication that the truffle which they had ingested would cause Severus’ cock to burst into spontaneous flames. So she wasn’t sure what she was looking for or wasn’t looking for as she perused the rest of them. “Erm…” she sighed. “I don’t know…this one, I guess.” She plucked up a square one that, much like the first chocolate, looked ordinary. She frowned. “It looks like a square of chocolate. It doesn’t even have the flecks of red or blue like the first one did. No pattern…no…it’s just…ordinary.” Hermione knew the moment she said the word she would later regret it.
                “Hang on a minute, blue?” asked George, looking up from the ledger.
                “Yes, well, not this one, of course. But the first one had tiny flecks of red and blue in those little swivels carved into the top.” Hermione said, with Severus nodding to confirm her observation.
                “Huh,” said George with a shrug.
                “What of it, Mr. Weasley?” Severus asked, his voice was dry.
                George shrugged his shoulders again, scratching his head with the tip of his quill. Little splatters of green ink flecked about in his hair as he did. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Nothing I suppose, I just…usually two colors or two patterns means two things. Suppose nothing of it if it didn’t.” He glanced down into the ledger once more. “Hermione nothing unusual? Your— you didn’t also burst into flames did you?”
                She considered this for a moment. She hadn’t properly thought to look, so stunned had she been by Severus’ flaming cock, but surely if she had somehow experienced internal flames, she would have felt the heat immediately instead of when he’d entered her. After another moment of mulling it over in her mind she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. At least, not that was noticeable. I didn’t feel the extremity of the heat until…” she rolled her hand, still unable to speak about their fuckery with as clinical a tongue as Severus.
                “Right,” said George, making a quick note. “Well, nevermind that then. Go one with this one.”
                Hermione was hesitant, half expecting Severus to be snide once more with his comment insisting she go first. She was surprised when he took the chocolate from her hand and held it just beneath his nose. He sniffed the chocolate. She watched his brow crease ever so slightly. He held it out to her, and somehow she knew that he meant for her smell it and not bite it. Hermione inhaled, taken aback at once by the surprisingly robust aroma. How could such a tiny thing have such a potent perfume? It was difficult to place, something like wet grass or morning dew and not quite floral but earthy. But it was strong, hardly any hint of chocolate. This sent Hermione’s mind into a frantic tailspin but before she had a chance to act on her panic, Severus had pressed the chocolate against her lips.
                But it wasn’t the smooth square truffle pressing against her lips that had caught her off guard, it was the warmth of his large, albeit callused, palm pressing against the side of her hip. This strangely comforting gesture transfixed her; Hermione parted her lips and pulled the chocolate between them taking a bite. It was dirt; the center of the chocolate had the texture of dirt, the chunky, sodden sort of soil that existed just after a fresh rain. It was punctuated with the peculiar perfume and an after-note of chocolate. She swallowed it surprisingly well despite the texture.
                “Well?” George asked.
                Hermione glanced over her shoulder to look at him. He was impatient, yet quite eager, gazing at them both with big, expectant eyes. “I don’t know, George, it’s rather difficult to describe because it’s almost like a mouthful of—”
                “Dirt,” Severus said flatly. “It tastes like petrichor with a soil-like texture and hints of chocolate threaded throughout. It is not the most pleasant thing on the palette, though far better than Bubultourous pus.”
                “Well that isn’t saying much,” muttered George.
                Severus sat still for a moment, his eyes sweeping slowly over Hermione and she wondered why he was gazing at her with such intensity. Her eyes scanned down her own body, paranoid and half expecting her skin to have turned to dirt. But no such thing had happened. It occurred to her that his glances were merely precautionary; the effects of the chocolate might take place at any moment, or be quite subtle, and he was looking to see what if any of them could be discerned. When he placed his hand at the swell of her womanhood, she gasped. But his fingers were gentle as they stroked her mound, deftly sweeping between her lips which were still slick with their copulation from moments before.
                Hermione stiffened, feeling his index finger prodding at her entrance and she bit her lip to keep from whimpering. She could not look at him. Severus pressed his finger slowly up into her, stroking her walls once, twice, a third time, gently swirling his finger around before withdrawing his hand from her sex. She all but moaned when he brought his hand beneath his nose, inhaled first, and then pulled the digit slowly between his lips, tasting her essence.
                “No discernable difference as of yet, Mr. Weasley,” he said.
                Hermione could feel her core tingle and spasm just listening to his voice. It had been a mere touch; in hindsight she supposed he had done it with the most clinical of intentions, to see if her vagina had somehow been transformed into a garden or some such. But feeling the way he casually touched her, the way he easily slipped his finger into her; it was almost too much to bare.
                “Hermione? Do you feel anything? Or see anything on Severus that he maybe doesn’t see?” George was flipping the ledger pages and turning them every which way, searching for some detail that would indicate what the mystery chocolate would do. “Stand up, Severus, you too, Hermione, take a look fully around one another just to be sure.”
                Severus was first to his feet and Hermione quickly followed. But upon standing she lost her footing, though she was not sure how, and found herself collapsing to her knees. She braced herself for the cold, hard contact with the wooden floorboards of the workshop, wincing as she made contact. Only she did not bang her shins against wood. Beneath her had suddenly appeared a patch of soft, damp, soil. The scent rose up to greet her nostrils, sweeping through her as if it were a hypnotic melody that assailed the nose rather than the ear.
                “Hermione! Are you okay?” George asked.
                Severus, who had managed to remain upright, was now staring at the patch of soil in which Hermione was kneeling. He bent down and hovered his face just above the dirt. He inhaled several times before finally deigning to touch the soil. Hermione watched as little clumps of it slipped through his fingers when he squeezed a handful of it in his palm. “This is practically mud,” he said. “Though the smell is again that of petrichor.”
                Hermione, who had already made contact with her knees and shins, now placed her palms flat against the soil, only to be jerked back by an unseen force. She yelped, finding herself lying on her back with her shins still in full contact with the soil. “I can’t—” she struggled, grunting somewhat as she attempted to pull herself up to a seated position. “I can’t seem to get up,” she growled. “Oh, what fresh hell is this?” she muttered, half under her breath.
                Severus, who had been cautious to only touch the muddied soil with his hands, now stood just over her. “Mr. Weasley, are there any discernable formulaic notes for any of these so-called chocolates?” he asked, moving to peruse the ledger.
                “I’m afraid not, Severus. There isn’t even a proper description for what’s included with the box of chocolates or what each one does. And the original description said there were 12 and obviously we’ve only got nine…” he handed the ledger to Severus, who began to skim the notes therein.
                “Why didn’t it stick to your hand when you touched it?” Hermione demanded, still struggling to free herself from the trapping of the muddy soil. The more she struggled, the wetter the dirt seemed to become, until Hermione was tossing about in a pit of pure mud. It was splashing up over her skin, little flecks of blackish brown mud covering her smooth, alabaster flesh.
                “I am not certain, Miss Granger,” said Severus, sounding years away as he continued to skim through the ledger. “Can you not move at all?” he asked, allowing his eyes to roam over her figure.
                “I can, I just can’t seem to get up,” she struggled again to prove her point, all the while making it muddier.
                George looked at Hermione. “Obviously this is the gimmick though to what end is beyond me,” he said with a shrug.
                “It has been known, Mr. Weasley, for some to find the soothing earthen texture of mud to be somewhat of an aphrodisiac, at the very least a sexual stimulant.” Severus said quite plainly.
                “You think this is sexy?” Hermione cried.
                “I said some, Miss Granger. The combined scents of dew and natural musk amid soil can be intoxicating to the right person. Coupled with the texture that I’m currently seeing on your person, I imagine to some this would be quite erotic.” Severus glanced once more back down at the notes.
                “That still doesn’t explain how she got stuck and you didn’t.”
                For that Severus had no answer. Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of it. She was aroused but that could have been her natural desire for him or the Lustipop hard at work. She found it very difficult to believe that she would crave such a thing sexually. Then again she had been surprised at her own bodily responses when he had been teaching her about whips and flagellation. Her mind reeled; was that the same thing? Hadn’t she only been aroused because it had been him who had administered her spanking? She had no standard for comparison. Certainly she had never fooled around in any way, shape, or form in the mud, at least not in any regard since she’d become a mature woman, and certainly never with any sexual intent or desire behind it.
                “Should we…well…I mean, it stands to reason that we ought to test it anyhow?” she heard George say.
                “Test what?” she asked.
                “I think Severus ought to fuck you,” he said, scribbling something in the ledger. “See if the mud does anything else? I mean I don’t much expect it will? You never know? But I want to know if it has some hidden magical effect or some other arousing properties that we’ve yet to see before we relegate it to the ‘weird fetishes’ category.”
                “Right,” she muttered. Hermione could not wrap her mind around being fucked in the mud. It was filthy; it was dirty; she felt her core warming just thinking about it. Was that her own response to the idea? Or was it merely because she knew Severus would be doing the fucking? Her body had warmed to Charlie well enough, though the entire time her mind had been stuck on Severus. And whenever she was with Severus her mind imploded and all she could think about was the sexual fire that consumed her from within because of how it felt when he touched her or when he fucked her. Was she drawn to the prospect of rooting around in the mud with him? Or merely the rooting around part? It was impossible to tell.
                While her mind raced, Severus carefully moved to the side of the mud pile she had spilling out from beneath where she lay on the floor. It was clearly etched into his facial features that he had no desire to become stuck in the mud with her. She bucked her hips up at him and flushed ruby red when he chuckled softly. It was much too softly for George to have heard, but she had heard him. And she heard him lean over her and whisper just at her earlobe. “My you’re eager…”
                Hermione’s mind was dizzy. Was she imagining things? Perhaps the mud was hallucinogenic. She blinked her eyes several times, trying to clear her line of sight, but he remained, hovering just over her. She watched with nervous anticipation as he cautiously brought his body over hers, letting his knees sink into the mud on either side of her hips. Once more she felt his pulsating cock tip at the entrance to her core and she moaned, forcing her lips shut hard to keep from sounding wanton.
                She felt his hands, wet with mud, suddenly bracing upon her shoulders, pushing her down further into the mud. “Ooh…” she heard herself moan. It was still such a strange sound, hearing the way she sounded when vocally expressive of her pleasure. Her eyes fell, her lids half hooded as she stared up at him. There was something silky and inviting about the way the mud was pressing into her skin beneath the pressure of his palms. “That…ooh…my…” she whimpered.
                Long, silky strands of Severus’ ebony locks fell around her face as she felt him lean over her body. His lips were brushing against the lobe of her ear, teasing her with their breath, tickling her with their presence. “You are filthy…” he murmured, nipping at her earlobe. She gasped, the nip a delicious sting that shot through her body and directly to her core.
                “Severus…” she moaned, bucking her hips up as much as the mud would allow, desperate to feel his cock filling her. “Fill my filthy hole…” she whimpered. The words were almost foreign to her lips and she was shamed and shocked to hear herself utter them. But at the same time, saying them set something searing inside of her. Her core was pulsing, crying out for him. “Fuck my dirty pussy…” she begged.
                “Dirty little trollop,” he growled and nipped her earlobe once more.
                Hermione cried out as he thrust himself hard and quick inside of her. “Oh fuck!” she cried, her voice no longer a whisper. Her hands gripped hard into the mud before she grabbed at his back, streaking her dirt-stained hands up and down his back. She bucked her hips up under him, feeling the immediate release of the mud’s hold on her body. But the weight of his hips crushed her down into the mud once more, though it no longer felt as if she were being trapped there by sentient dirt. “Yes…yessss…” she hissed, the word seeping from lips in delight as she felt him thrusting hard inside of her. “Fuck me, fuck me, harder, you filthy animal.”
                “Fuck,” he hissed, growling directly into her ear. “You’re so fucking tight, your cunt is like a vice,” he rasped, panting out as his words, nipping and now more fully biting at her earlobe as he pummeled his hips downward into hers.
                “Oh. My. God.” George said, though if either of them heard him, they gave no indication.
                Writhing and wriggling and bucking against him, with her arms gripped around him, his cock thrusting inside of her, Hermione pitched their bodies onto their sides. “Fuck, yes! Screw me into this mud, Severus!” she cried, continuing to rake her fingers and nails, still covered in the mud, up and down every inch of him that she could touch. Her body was writhing in pleasure and she let her hands fall slack into the mud, before reaching up and tugging her fingers through his hair.
                Mud was everywhere; in her hair and in his, there was hardly any clear specks of their pale flesh left to be seen. Hermione was panting, gasping, begging and pleading. Severus was grunting, growling, and murmuring against her ear. It was a string of filthy obscenities that shocked her core with little tingles at every word. She clutched at him, squeezing his slender and bony hips with the cushion of her thighs, mud slipping all over them as she did. “I’m your dirty girl,” she panted, half desperate, arching her hips up hard to meet his thrusts, which were now reckless.
                “Filthy little slut,” he growled, nipping at her ear. “My filthy little slut…” Severus too was panting. She could feel the weight of his body, the pressure of his hips, and the heat of his breath all over her. It was dizzying and she could feel herself all but exploding as he came inside of her, grunting and growling. Hermione’s body convulsed; her toes were curling and she could feel twitches of pleasure ricocheting up and down her spine. She was sticky and slick everywhere, not just between her legs where he had spilled himself but every touchable surface of her skin that had either been touched by his muddied hands or been directly in contact with it.
                Severus collapsed down atop her; the weight of his full body suddenly was unexpected. He was strong, and despite a svelte physique, it caused her to gasp quite harshly, her own lungs feeling squeezed. They were both panting, and Hermione was desperately trying to pull her conscious thought-thinking mind out of the sexually climactic fog in which she’d been plunged. Then the weight of his body was gone, as if he’d disappeared. Hermione felt the sudden chill in the lack of his body heat and she shivered, whimpering in displeasure at the cold.
                “Wow.” George exclaimed.
                “Yes…” Hermione exhaled, struggling to pull herself upright, though she found it was only because her body was still wiggling like jelly and not because she was stuck in the mud. Though she supposed she hadn’t been stuck in the mud for some time as she’d been able to throw her arms all around Severus whilst they’d fucked. “That was—”
                “Dirty.” Said Severus.
                “Well, I mean let’s call a spade a spade, and all—” George started but Severus shook his head. He was calm, almost entirely composed, though his chest still rose and fell somewhat heavily compared to how still his breathing generally was.
                “It was physically and erotically dirty,” said Severus. “You saw the dirt, which rather turned into some sort of lubricated mud, and rather more impressively seems to have disappeared entirely since orgasm,” he paused for a moment, his eyes scrutinizing his own body and then meticulously sweeping overs. “And it was sexually dirty, evoking dirty talk to heighten the experience, as you witnessed.”
                George, who was getting better at controlling the way he blushed, nodded in great enthusiasm. “That’s bloody brilliant, Severus!” he grinned. “A chocolate truffle that can make you talk dirty is just mind-blowing,” he began to frantically write into the ledger.
                “Short of an Imperious Curse, which I trust the late Mr. Weasley had far better sense than to actually use, there is no such enchantment that can make you talk dirty, Mr. Weasley.” He paused for a moment and then explained, eyes focused on Hermione as he spoke. “An augmentation of a natural desire or perhaps a loosening of inhibitions, some potent combination thereof in the formula and the enchantment, not dissimilar to that of Felix Felicious or Veritaserum with minor alterations…evoking the freedom of that desire to talk dirty is what you have on your hands. If it does not sexually excite the person, I very much doubt it would have quite the same effect as it has had on Miss Granger.” He said and then very quietly, but deliberately, added, “and on myself.”
                This stunned Hermione. But she was still too wrapped up in her thoughts trying to discern what exactly had happened for her face to belay such feelings. Those words coming out of her mouth; the filthy, tawdry, pleading words, begging him to be naughty with her in a most wanton way, those had been a secret desire that the chocolate and its magic had helped to unearth? That made her go all but scarlet. This did not go unnoticed by Severus, who nodded slowly at her, and then handed her robe to her. She slipped her arms into it, albeit unsteadily, and drew it closed her around her body.
                “A break,” Severus said. “Or we shall never last the remaining seven chocolates, even with Lustipops.”
                George nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, of course,” he said. “I need to make a few notes, you two can…well, if you want to have a sit on the couch up in the flat or just relax there on the bed a while,” he gestured to the workshop bed.
                “We’re fine, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said, his voice slightly pinched.
“Okay, take 15 or so then,” he said and shuffled off.
                Hermione watched George walk to the far side of the workshop, pouring over his ledger as he did. She at once turned questioning eyes to Severus, who immediately rolled his eyes in return. His voice was a low whisper, and he took a carefully calculated step closer to her. “Don’t start asking your 20 questions now,” he muttered. “Because I do not know the answer to the three I suspect you are likely to ask first, I am in no mood to share answers about the two that you’ll desperately want to ask but caper all around until I suggest answering them, and no, I am not behaving this way entirely for your benefit, though do not mistake that it is largely aimed in that direction at present.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
                It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes. “Don’t assume you know everything that was going to come out of my mouth, Severus.”
                He snorted softly. “Why did you stick to the mud and I did not? Does this mean that you secretly desire dirty talk in the bedroom? Why have you never felt that desire before?” he snapped. “I do not know.” Hermione opened her lips to protest but he kept going. “Is my desire for dirty talk something I’ve always enjoyed doing and for how long? Do I prefer being dirty talked to or do I prefer to do the talking? I’ve no desire to disclose that.” Hermione didn’t even get a chance to open her mouth when he started up again. “Why am I being quite so attentive to you this evening? As I said, we need to get through this without your having another meltdown, and no it is not solely a professional courtesy, as you’ve already condemned me to developing a hint of a fondness for you, but I will not conduct any sort of inveiglement or act upon any unrestrained pathos whilst working in this workshop more than is professionally necessary.”
                “Are you finished?” she asked, half sharply, have sincerely.
                “Are you going to ask any questions?” Severus narrowed his eyes at her.
                “Do you think the mud made the sex easier?” she crossed her arms over her chest. She would not allow him to disarm her quite so readily, even if he had, as he had said, known exactly what was going to come out of her mouth, almost down to the phrasing of it.
                Severus scoffed and then turned his head over his shoulder to stare at George, who seemed to be lost once more in the scribbling of the ledger. “A slick body is a pliable one, a well-lubricated body is an easily manipulated one. Not that I have ever encountered your body to be in any state but well-lubricated when it comes to vaginal sex, but yes, this particular type of slickness all over the body would generally make sex between two individuals easier.” Hermione gazed into his eyes, trying very hard not to blink. “What?” he snapped.
                “Will you have a bath with me when we venture home this evening?”
                This question caught Severus entirely off-guard. His eyebrows quirked up high on his forehead and his eyes were opened wider than they had been a moment before. Where such a bold and utterly ridiculous question had come from she couldn’t fathom. She was playing their game again; the never ending and unyielding head game that constantly seemed to have them struggling for control of whatever this thing was that they were sharing. There was about to be an answer, no doubt some snide remark, or a chastising, but with impeccable as ever timing, George strolled up behind them, his lopsided grin radiating from his face as always.
                “Are we ready to get back to it? Or should we pause from the chocolates and work on something else perhaps?” he asked.
                Hermione, who often deflected to Severus when George raised these types of questions, was surprised to see him shrug, almost with complete indifference. His eyes rested on her as if he expected her to make the decision. She wasn’t sore, not quite yet, though she wasn’t certain her body would tolerate another intense round of fucking. First the heat and then the mud, there was no telling what was coming next with those chocolates. But as much as she wanted to switch to something else, though Merlin only knew what that would be, was as much as she wanted to feel him again. Being filled by Severus, with or without flames and mud, was an exquisite sensation that she was certain she could never enjoy enough. There was nothing quite so wholly satisfying, and if it wasn’t for the fact she was certain she would suffer permanent damage from a friction burn, or rupture a muscle inside her pelvic floor somehow, she would have been content to do nothing but fuck him and be fucked by him for the rest of her days.
                That thought was frightening and for a moment she wondered if she was still experiencing some side effect from the chocolate. Hermione Granger had higher ambitions than permanently succumbing to Severus Snape’s sexual prowess. That was another traumatizing issue in and of itself. She was tangled up, certain that she loved him. She was sexually infatuated with him and was desperately in need of him more often than any independent woman should have ever been proud to admit. But she had lost herself somewhere along the way. After losing Ron or losing her position at the ministry, perhaps it had been after losing her flat, or maybe it had been long before that— when she’d lost her faith in life itself, losing her parents and nearly losing her life in the great war; somewhere in that tangled mess of life she had lost her very being. And he had somehow, without meaning to, become a grounding point in her lost ocean of a life. These thoughts, and a dozen others, consumed her mind, eating away at her suddenly from the inside out.
                “Yoohoo, Hermione,” George called. He waved his hand in front of her face. “Anybody home in there? Lights appear to be on…” he said and giggled just a bit.
                “I— oh I— sorry. What did you say?” she asked, refusing to look at Severus. He had invaded her mind earlier that evening, out of necessity, or so it had seemed. But she did not want him to read her like a book as he so often did. “Just a little giddy still from those chocolates, I suppose,” she said with a weak smile, which she knew was more than enough to fool George but would not come close to passing with Severus.
                “Right,” said George. “Just thought maybe, if you’re feeling fit, we could do one more chocolate? Then we can give the box a rest for the night? Or at least for a while tonight? Three should be more than enough for one evening, at least as far as work I can do with them.”
                Hermione nodded, hearing about every third word he said. But her lips and her eyes overrode her brain and her ears. “As long as Severus is alright to keep going, that should be fine.”
                “Great,” said George. “Somebody go ahead and pick one, and we’ll do one more.”
                She examined the little box of chocolates, in which only seven now remained. Hermione tapped her finger atop the very round, blue one. It was a shiny, glossy blue, almost like a sapphire but brighter and with less sparkle. “I suppose that one,” she said and plucked it up. There was no hesitation or chivalrous gestures as there had been with the first two. Hermione pressed the blue truffle to her lips, bit into it, and squealed as a gush of juice crashed against her tongue and ran down her lips.
                Severus had quickly taken hold of her hand, bringing the truffle to his own lips whilst she held it. Dribbles of the juice lingered on her index finger and Hermione gasped when he licked them from her skin. The taste of the juice was sweet yet tart; there was a distinct hint of blueberry present, though she couldn’t quite say it was that. She wondered if he could taste it too, but her brain was truly more interested in the way his tongue had so readily swiped up the slender length of her finger, catching the surprising liquid from inside the truffle.
                At first she felt nothing, but Severus felt it immediately, glancing down at his cock with somewhat of a frown. Hermione followed his gaze and gasped. His length, which was surprisingly firm and full in that moment, though she supposed he’d once more ingested a bit of a Lustipop, was turning a rich blueish shade of violet. From base to tip, she watched in amazement as his cock seemed to swell as though growing in arousal was somehow naturally accompanied by a flush of blue coloring that filled the skin. And then she glanced down at her own body, transfixed to see that her own skin just at her pubic mound was turning the same bruised shade of blue. She felt her netherlips swell ever so slightly, and without pausing to think how ridiculous she looked, half-craned over her own body with her legs squatted apart, she bent down, twisting her head about, attempting to examine her sex more closely.
                Strong fingers tugged at her shoulder, pulling her fully upright. Hermione blushed ever so slightly when her eyes met Severus’, though she really shouldn’t have felt foolish. His hand pressed firmly against her, cupping her sex, and she sucked in a breath rather suddenly. She was certain there was something wrong with her; by now she should have been accustomed to such intimate touches from him. But perhaps it was the way he was always going about them without warning. She felt his fingers slide between her folds, prodding and stroking in a subtly teasing manner, though she knew that to anyone observing it would most likely look quite clinical.
                “Nothing out of the ordinary besides the obvious,” he said. Severus hissed quite suddenly and unexpectedly as Hermione curled her fingers around his length, giving his shift a slow, firm tug. “I trust,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You find the same.”
                Hermione nodded. Thinking much like a scientist in that moment, she bent down and pressed her cheek against his thigh. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, sniffing at the base of his cock. “Ooh…well…that’s curious,” she mused, fluttering her eyes open to stare up at him.
                “What is it, Hermione?” asked George.
                “The faintest hint…it’s really just a whiff and it almost goes away after a moment…but I can smell blueberries,” she said.
                George looked at them both. “Hmm. Severus, see if you can smell the blueberries on her as well.”
                Hermione stood up, careful to stand with her legs spread slightly as she did, allowing Severus space to kneel between them. She was surprised when he did not sink to his knees as she had done, but rather pushed her back onto the bed. “If the effect of this product is as I suspect, there’s an entire position for this,” he muttered before gently sinking his own body onto the bed. Bewildered, she stared at him. There was something in his eyes, a knowing sneer that could speak more words than his actual lips ever would. But all he said was, “Come here, Miss Granger.”
                She was hesitant, uncertain as to what exactly he meant. While she was no prude, especially as of late when it came to sexual entanglement, she was still not well versed in all of the sexual positions and finer nuances of sexual activity. Hermione moved with caution, gingerly rocking back onto her calves, desperately waiting for instruction. But Severus did not speak, he sat up and in one strong, sweeping motion, grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her up onto his stomach. There was some shifting in the process and she found herself sitting astride his stomach facing his feet. Hermione was about to turn around and ask him what good that would do when his hands firmly gripped her hips and yanked her backwards up his torso. She lost her balance, falling somewhat forward, with her arms catching her on either side of his knees. Suddenly Hermione’s face was hovering just over his cock, with her body stretched out across his chest, her sex resting just over his collar bone.
                “Severus, you suspect that this might be a flavored enchantment? Ideal for 69?” George asked.
                “I suspect that given the coloration, it is designed for oral pleasure, and this would be the simplest way to test both at once,” he said plainly.
                Though Hermione did not know what a 69 was or that the position in which she was currently displayed was exactly that, she understood clearly that she was meant to taste him. A blow job once more. Only from the sound of it, he would be performing on her at the same time and that was both delicious and frightening. But she didn’t trust herself to speak.
                George spoke for her, “Hermione, if you’re good, you two can go ahead and start. Test Severus’ theory, I think he’s on the right track. Very odd shade of blue, though,” he added as an afterthought.
                She loved the idea of taking his turgid length in her mouth; she loved the sounds he made when she swiveled her tongue under his balls, which she noticed in that moment that they were also the same full blue as his length. She wanted to please him, show how good of a teacher he’d been and even more how good of a student she was; there was something inescapable about that desperate need of approval from a source of authority that fueled her desire to please. And he had instructed her through her first blow job, taught her how to take him into her mouth and how to please him. She recalled well how she’d pressed her finger up into his tight back entrance to give him a full and satisfying release. And now she was faced with his pulsating length once more. This was another chance to feel gratification from having learned how to please him.
                Hermione groaned; she was ripped from her reverie by the feeling of his hot, wet, tongue. It stroked between her legs, laving up against her slit. There had been no precursory fingers, no warning, just his tongue, accompanied by the steamy heat of his breathing against her skin. Her eyes swam with pleasure and she could almost not focus on his cock in front of her, or the fact that she was meant to be sucking him into her mouth to test if he tasted of blueberries. She wondered if she tasted of blueberries. Shivers danced along her spine, his tongue rolling lazy circles up and around her swollen lips, tickling her entrance as she twitched atop him.
                “Oh damn…” she moaned, feeling his lips curling firmly against the tiny bundle of nerves that could set her screaming. Severus tickled the tip of his tongue against her clit and she wriggled and all but screamed. His hand pressed firmly down on the small of her back, holding her steadily atop him. It was enough to help ground her, enough to make her remember that she was meant to be tasting him. Trying to steady her breaths, which were once again erratic and heaving, she brought the tip of his cock to her mouth, cautious to guard over her teeth with her lips.
                Hermione drew him into her mouth. The taste was there; it was a strong bittersweet fruity flavor, very much like blueberries mingled among his natural masculine musk. Blueberries were not her favourite fruit, but they were far from unpleasant in that moment. She licked her tongue in a swirl around his tip, carefully drawing him into the cavern of her mouth as she did. His tongue traced circles against her clit, every second or third swipe resulting in a quick flicker against the sensitive nub. She was bucking her hips back, noting with each thrust in her own movements how the pressure on the small of her back increased.
                “Oooh” she moaned, his cock still in her mouth. She heard him hiss. Remembering then that she had hands, Hermione brought both of them in front of her and lifted his balls into her palm. Rolling and squeezing them with one hand, she used her other to gently prod at the space between the base of his shaft and the tightly squeezed pucker of his rear. This earned her another sharp hiss, and several quick flicks of his tongue tip against her clit. Moaning and hissing, Hermione bobbed her head up and down his length as she’d been taught, working his balls in one hand, the other seeking to press against that ring of taut muscle that pleased him so.
                There was a pressure building in her core; every flick of his tongue, every time he closed his lips around her clit and suckled, she squealed, her fingers jerking against his balls when she did. Faster and more frenzied, she licked at his cock, drawing him in and out, in and out, and faster and more frantic came the flicks against her clit. And then she was coming. Inexplicably sudden and quite intensely, Hermione was shuddering, all but wailing out in orgasm as she trembled atop him. She felt his cock seize stiff, the hot jolt of fluid that burst forth from his tip filling her mouth. It was thick and sticky, that bittersweet blueberry she’d tasted when she’d first taken him into her mouth. She swallowed, though it took every ounce of strength for her to do so, and then she collapsed, her head falling to the top of his thigh.
                “Blueberry?” she heard George ask. “And did it— Merlin, so it did!” he clapped. “That’s brilliant. The blue goes away with orgasm, much like the mud did. No lingering residuals on you, Hermione, what about Severus? Is he normal colored? Did he taste like blueberry?”
                It took her a moment to realize she was still collapsed atop him with her legs having fallen wantonly open on either side of his chest, her knees now pressing down into the mattress. She lifted her head slowly, careful not to nudge his gently deflating cock. “Yes,” she murmured. “He tasted of blueberry both during and his— er— when he came,” she blushed. “And no, er yes—” she sighed as she tripped over her words. “He’s not blue anymore.”
                If Severus was straining for breath, she couldn’t tell. He hadn’t made to push her off of his body and she couldn’t feel his chest struggling to rise and fall beneath her. Hermione slid her body to the side, flinching as the air brushed her skin, now slick with sweat, and eased herself off of him. She chanced a glance over at him, letting her eyes linger for just a moment on the pale skin of his torso before searching his face. His eyes were closed, his face neutral. She was about to ask if he was alright, but as if sensing her pending question, he opened his eyes and stared at her a moment before tilting his head to the side and shifting his gaze toward George.
                “A break Mister Weasley, if you intend any more of those chocolates to be tested tonight, a break.”
                George, who hadn’t seemed to notice in the least that Severus was addressing him, was scribbling frantically in the ledger, ink flitting about between the parchment and his face. “…and if blueberry…” his voice trailing off as he wrote. “…possibly raspberry or blackberry…lemon…no,” he paused. “Not. Lemon.” He punctuated each of those words with a heavy scratch of his quill. It was only when Severus cleared his throat loudly that George looked up from the ledger. “What? Oh! Um, right. Another— wait, no…you said a break? Yes. A break, that’ll give me a moment to sort out the notes for that particular one…if I can recapture that formula…imagine the flavour possibilities!” he all but squealed. “Candy is dandy,” he grinned. “You two can stay here if you like, I’m going to pop up to the flat, I think I’ve actually got a set of notes somewhere on something very much like this from the Skiving Snackbox days…”
                And before either Hermione or Severus could comment further, George was off like a shot up to the flat, ledger and all. She sighed, relieved that George had not insisted they go straight into the fourth chocolate in the box of nine. And for a very brief moment she thanked Merlin that the supposed twelve were not wholly accounted for; Hermione wasn’t sure how many mystery chocolates she could handle in total, let alone in one evening. Her body was shifting, more so because he was moving to sit up and very quickly she found herself sitting up as well, reaching for her robe.
                “Well that was—”
                “Please,” he muttered. “Always with the talking, the commentary, the questions,” he sighed. “Can’t you ever just be silent?”
                Hermione flushed but dismissed it quickly and rolled her eyes. “No, I cannot, Severus.” She stood up for a moment to slide fully into her robe before sitting down beside him on the bed. “My mind is always churning, my thoughts always firing, I cannot be silent because the din inside my mind roars at such a thunder that if I don’t let it escape through my mouth I shall go deaf.” She surprised even herself with such words, but held her own in having said them, refusing to blush or to look embarrassed.
                She could not control the slight tremble that shivered up her spine when he placed his hand atop her thigh. It was a simple gesture; Severus placed his palm over her exposed skin, just above her kneecap below the hem of her robe. But it was a gesture that spoke volumes. Whether he meant to comfort her for the sake of quelling her nerves in that moment or because he could relate to what she’d shared, Hermione hadn’t a clue. But she found in that moment that she didn’t care what the reason. There was comfort in his touch, always; even when it frightened her, she found something comforting in the contact.
                “Do you think he’ll push us to get through the other six tonight?” she asked after only a few seconds of silence. It was all she could tolerate in that moment, too many other things still shifting through her mind, not the least of which was the after-hum of pleasure from the first three chocolates that they had tested.
                Severus gave a small shrug. “I suspect not, Lustipops or not the body can only take so much before being burnt out. If each of those remaining are as intense or as potent as the first three, I daresay just one more— two at most— before we shall both find ourselves spent for the evening.”
                Hermione nodded. “I don’t suppose you’ve a preference?”
                He snorted. “You speak as if these novelty products would cross my path of interest in some capacity.” There was a brief pause before he turned his head to the side and caught her gaze. “Short of this job, I assure you, such novelties hold no interest for me.”
                She would have loved to have ventured down that rabbit hole further, but even if George hadn’t shouted on his way down the stairs, she very much doubted that Severus would have gone into any great length or detail regarding the matter, even if they had been alone together at Spinner’s End. She sighed quietly, feeling his hand withdraw from her skin, noting the cooler air of the room that replaced the warmth of his palm. It was a miniscule loss but a loss just the same, though she would grieve it with nothing more than her sigh.
                “Right, so…if you’re up for another go—”
                George’s words were halted abruptly as Severus stood up. “I will caution, Mister Weasley, there may be six of those chocolate concoctions remaining but you’ll have one more…possibly two…for the evening, unless you wish the both of us to be completely decommissioned for the next several days.” His tone was cautionary. It was not unlike the warning tone she had recalled hearing so many years ago in Potions class. Only it was nothing like that tone from Potions class, as Severus never gave such calm warnings to a classroom full of dunderheads.
                “Oh! Right, right! Of course,” said George, blushing slightly. “Erm, maybe just one more then. Hermione, is that alright? One more and we’ll—” he paused. “Actually, we can do one more and then probably call it a night. I’ve got loads of prep work to do before the convention and if you’re both feeling worn down…so one more?”
                Hermione nodded. “One more should do us fine,” she said, immediately wishing she hadn’t spoken for him. But he did not show disproval nor did he protest. George held up the box once more and Hermione peered carefully into it. Already they’d devoured a chocolate that had set Severus’ manhood aflame, followed by an enchantment that got them dirty both figuratively and literally. And the last one had been a warped version of something from a childhood story she’d recalled reading, only the chocolate had resulted in naughty pleasure rather than the vile illustration of one of the seven deadly sins. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’ve no idea, just pick one,” she said, half to George, but mostly to Severus.
                If he was caught off guard by anything, her tone or sudden suggestion that he take charge, Severus didn’t show it. Hermione watched his slender, spidery digits hover for but a moment over the remaining six chocolates before plucking one up from the box. It was ordinary, save for the fact that it was tinted entirely lavender. She could only imagine what horrors awaited them. Despite its innocuous coloration, Hermione was certain something disastrous would happen when they bit into the chocolate. Lavender was meant to be calming, but at present all she felt was anxious. Choosing not to hesitate when the chocolate was offered to her, Hermione bit into it, failing to notice that he had already taken the first bite.
                A strange flavor flooded her mouth. It wouldn’t have been so strange if anything about the chocolates they were testing had been ordinary, because the lavender tinted chocolate tasted like lavender and chocolate. It took a moment for Hermione’s brain to process this concept. It was silken, smooth almost like a ganache that had liquefied slowly, dripping gently down her tongue and back into her throat. It was not altogether unpleasant, but rather a curious taste. Floral fragrances were not Hermione’s pleasure, though lavender was one of the ones that she tolerated. Mixing it with chocolate, however, was an entirely different matter.
                “Anything?” asked George. His voice sounded far away.
                Hermione glanced up and down her body, half expecting to be tinted a shade of pale purple, and she slowly shook her head. This caused a slight dizzying sensation and for a moment her eyes swam around, blurring her vision. She locked eyes with Severus and then the moment passed, though she still held his gaze. Whatever dizzying notion the chocolate had brought forth seemed to vanish. Or perhaps it was still with her; it was difficult to tell. She could feel the room moving around her; it was a bizarre and difficult sensation to describe. The voices, Severus’ and George’s, sounded far away though she could see them plainly before her, albeit fuzzy in their outline.
                She blinked her eyes. Open, closed, open again and then she was back on the bed, his body atop her. The heat of him bore down into her skin and she could feel his heart thudding in his chest as if it were echoing inside her ears. There was a pressure; it was his cock pushing into her, but the sensation was muted somehow. She blinked her eyes once more. Open, closed, open again and she could feel little beads of sweat dripping down the back of his neck, just beneath his hair, where her hand was now tangled. More pressure, he was thrusting into her with more speed, though still it all felt muted. She could feel a haze settling over her own body; she could smell the musk that was them when their bodies were entwined but everything was fuzzy. Open, closed, open, another blink. He had collapsed atop her; there was heat and sticky wetness between them, her chest heaving against his and Severus gently panting for breath near her ear. And then there was a sweep of darkness, for but a moment or maybe a life time, she couldn’t tell.
                “Hermione,” it was George’s voice, just beside her ear, sharp and clear as a bell. “Oi, Hermione!”
                She scrunched her nose, twitched, and opened her eyes. She was laying back on the bed in the workshop and could just see Severus’ slender figure, once more concealed in his robe, perched at the foot of it. She sprang up, albeit too quickly, and nearly had to lie back once more. “What in Merlin’s name was that?” she cried.
                “I was hoping you could tell us. I don’t really know what I was seeing— he was out of it, you were out of it— and yet…” George shook his head. “I think that one’s a formulaic complication…or something gone wrong,” he muttered.
                “An astute observation, Mr. Weasley, though I believe its effect was as intended,” said Severus, though he had not moved to face her or stand from the edge of the bed.
                Hermione hardly noticed that she was still completely naked until the chill of the room swept across her skin and she shivered. She clutched around for her robe, and slipped into it before pulling herself fully upright and into a seated position just beside him. She noted how he flinched when their thighs brushed, and more alarmingly how he shifted away from her. Her lower lip was pressed between her teeth at once; her mind racing as she chewed at it, trying to scrounge together less foggy details of what had just happened.
                “It’s all rather blurry,” she confessed. “I— there was this haziness…and I kept blinking…almost in slow motion but time was lapsing between my blinking…and he— and we—” she scoffed. “I don’t quite know what to say,” she shook her head, having given up on trying to catch Severus’ eye.
                “A relaxant,” said Severus rather flatly. “Too potent, but meant to create a hazy experience for both partners…perhaps two lovers who need to relax to enjoy one another’s company,” he posited but then abruptly rose from the bed. “An unwise concoction, Mr. Weasley. Far too many nefarious undertakings…” he cast a stern glance at the red-head before stalking across the workshop. “You said we were finished for the evening?”
                George frowned. “What do you mean?” he scrunched up his nose, not following Severus’ statement. “Was it the same for you, Severus? The haziness? The blurriness? If you’re both experiencing the same—”
                Severus whipped around, cold, calculating eyes all but drilling into George. “Yes and what if one person were not to partake of the chocolate, Mr. Weasley? What then?” he restrained a groan when it appeared that George’s only response was to stare at him, a gormless look of misunderstanding painted on his face. “Use your brain, Weasley,” he snapped. “How readily this could be treated like a date-rape aid if only one person is made to ingest it. A seemingly innocent offer of floral chocolate…rendering its imbiber in a semi-conscious half-aware state? Disastrous.”
                “Merlin’s beard!” George cried. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he snatched at the ledger. “I suppose this one will have to go…” he began to scribble once more into the ledger book. “Yes, I see what you mean,” he was muttering aloud more to himself than to Severus. George began to stalk toward the staircase that led up to his flat, ledger in his arms, quill still flitting about the parchment as he walked. “You can go, I’ll send an owl around for tomorrow,” he called and with haste, he disappeared up the stairs.
                Hermione was stunned. Severus had lashed out and it didn’t take the third eye to see that he was shaken by the experience. Her instinct was to rush to him, attempt to comfort him in the only way she knew how. But this was Severus Snape, and despite the familiarity which she had developed with him, coddling him with hugs and sensual nuzzling touches was simply not going to be the answer; if anything it would make the situation worse. But her feet moved more quickly than the good sense in her brain and she was standing behind him, a trembling hand reaching up to touch his shoulder.
                “Don’t,” Severus commanded, his words severe. He whipped around, taking a step back from her. It placed a space between them. His eyes were clouded, shrouded in unreadable darkness. But this was different. This was defensive. Hermione, possibly insane from all that had happened to that point, and possibly having finally cracked in what was left of her faculties, braced herself, grounding her bare feet into the hardwood floor of the workshop. She reached her hands out to touch him, grasping quite suddenly at his forearms. “I said don’t!” he snarled, jerking his arms back.
                “Legilimens!” she cried for all she was worth.
                It was enough, and only just so. The chink in his armor, the fault in his guard, she crashed through his impervious mind in that moment, if only briefly. Severus was so stunned, so unprepared for such a brazen move that he had not been able to ward off her intrusion into his mind. Her touch against his skin burned, distracting him all the more in that moment and she lingered for but a moment more. Hermione could see flashes of images darting past her eyes; there was mostly darkness and horrid sounds, but what she could see was gruesome. Witches, splayed beneath him, quaking, crying, bleeding; only it wasn’t him but a cloaked figure in that silver mask. She couldn’t take it all in, she couldn’t focus on some of the images and memories as they raced by her. And then she was being squeezed; she was being dragged, by the hair, and pulled from his mind.
                Hermione fell back onto the floor of the workshop, panting and gasping. She gazed up at Severus, surprised to find that he too had fallen to the floor. He looked ghostly; the whitest shade of pale that she had ever seen in human skin now painted his face. He was sweating, something she had rarely witnessed in him. And his eyes burned black with an unforgivable fury. The bottom of her stomach dropped for just a moment and for the first time since the war, she found herself well and truly frightened. She was terrified. Words failed her. Movement failed her. She was paralyzed, frozen with fear, and perhaps a bit more than shocked. She couldn’t fathom what had come over her, why she had thought that forcing her way into his mind in that instant of vulnerability would solve anything. It had surprised her all the more that she’d actually broken through, though no amount of confidence in her ability to push her way into his mind could have prepared her for what she had encountered there.
                Severus Snape had been a Death Eater. She had known that; she had accepted that, at least she thought she had. She had not known that such nightmarish memories would surface from what they were playing with in the workshop. She had not expected it to impact him so deeply. It turned her stomach on multiple levels, but perhaps the worst of all being that she was helpless in the situation and her desperate need to help him made her feel selfish. It seemed some time before she could find even the slightest bit of air to draw in, hoping that words would soon follow breath.
                “If you ever do that again I shall obliterate your memory to within an inch of your life, consequences be damned,” he hissed. Severus was at once on his feet, storming with great haste over to where his robes were hung.
                Hermione felt a ripple of terror strike through her. Only it was not his threat that had done so. Steeped deep in the madness that had compelled her to such outrageous actions, Hermione feared that she had undone everything in one stupid attempt to understand him further. She couldn’t fully explain it, but mustered some semblance of strength and courage, forcing herself to her feet. She tore after him. “No,” she demanded. “You’ve stormed my mind before, Severus Snape—”
                He whirled around, careful to loom over her without touching her. “You’ve no right. You’ve no idea what you’re doing. You’ve no idea what you’re—”
                “You’ve no right!” she shrieked. At once Hermione grabbed his forearms, and though he was quick to jerk back, he was not quick enough to entirely evade her grasp. “You’ve no right,” she spat, tears all but streaming down her cheeks now. “You think you are the only one that has things best left unseen by others? You think it’s pleasant having you invade my mind in what you say is an attempt to help me through?”
                Severus flinched, yanking his arm back from her, but she held fast, keeping her fingers gripped tightly around him like claws. “You are a child,” he snapped. “A child, Hermione— you may be grown in body and far beyond your school years but you are a child. You are still innocent and naïve and stupid—”
                Hermione made to slap him with her free hand, no longer in control of her surge of emotions. But his hand caught hers. She struggled. She squeezed her other hand tight against his forearm, but he squeezed her harder. They’d gotten turned about somehow; Hermione’s back was now pressed against the wall near where their clothes hung and he was now pressing the fullness of his body and all of his weight against her into it. “Stop it,” he snapped. “Stop it. Stop it! STOP.” The command was harsh, and so loud that she was certain George would come barreling down the stairs at any moment to break up their quarrel.
                But there was silence. No George running down the steps into the workshop, no Severus shouting at her, no words of her own flying out at him. Just silence and their bodies pressed tightly together. Hermione winced; his grip was biting into the flesh of her wrists so firmly she was certain he might break them. Her voice cried out in pain but the words wouldn’t form. He was panting and she was sobbing. She could not bring herself to meet his gaze, her heart racing with surefire fear in that moment. She trembled, her head falling forward. “You are a monster,” she whispered through broken tears. The voice she heard hardly sounded like her own. It was a scared and trembling Hermione that she herself did not recognize. And that scared her more than anything else that was happening in that moment.
                “I have said that from the beginning, you insufferable, insipid witch.” His voice was a low hiss, barely breath over words. His grip did not relinquish on her wrists, the weight of his body did not relent from pressing her further into the wall. She half expected to be crushed by him in that moment. It was unbearable.
                “No,” she spat, struggling to push against him, though he held her firmly in place, his grip tightening the more she twisted her arms. “You are a monster, no one can deny that, but you’ve no right to act monstrous to me. You’ve no right to— to— you’ve no right to—”
                The slender, firm weight of his index finger pressed hard against her lips. He had released one wrist completely, loosening the hold on her other one, and the weight of his body eased somewhat though he did not step back from her. Hermione all but collapsed. She would have sunk to the floor had he not physically been pinning her to the wall. Hermione could not understand the inexplicable surge of torrential emotional typhoon that had just spewed forth from them both. The last fifteen minutes needed a time-turner and then some. But instead she stood perfectly still, smashed between him and the wall, his finger on her lips. A silence passed between them; the night seemed structured around these unending silences. The surprise that came to them both was that he spoke first.
                “This ends here and now,” he said, slowly, deliberately. “You will return to Spinner’s End, gather your things, and leave in the morning. I shall find other accommodations for the night,” he did not pause for more than a breath. “I shall inform Mister Weasley in the morning that I am discontinuing my contract with him for this line of work and that he should do his best to find my replacement for the convention.” Severus slowly let his finger slide down her lips before falling away from her face. He stepped but a half step back from her, their bodies no longer touching. “This ends now.” He repeated.
                Hermione’s lips were trembling. “Coward,” she whimpered.
                “You will not goad me into anything that way, Miss Granger,” he said sharply. “Do not—”
                “You are a coward, Severus,” she whispered, her voice growing stronger in that moment. “You run from your past, you cower from your memories, you push away everyone that shows you love and compassion, you hide from your darkness, you shut out everything and everyone that would force you to reconcile with it— you are a coward.”
                In another world, in that exact moment of time, Severus Snape hauled back his arm and slapped her with such a sting that it nearly broke his hand. Or he shook her violently before crushing his lips to hers. Or he spun elegantly on his heel without a word or backwards glance, stalked out of the workshop, and disappeared without a trace. Three such possibilities and a half dozen more seemed to blur before Hermione’s eyes as if she could see every possible outcome to her current situation all at once. But none of what she briefly envisioned or imagined prepared her for what actually happened. Severus began to cry.
                It was not a heavy, ugly, sob the way she had bawled at times when her emotions overtook her. It was not a stream of silent tears nor a mere trickle of a few errant salt drops on his cheek. He was crying, a quiet and oddly dignified cry with the slightest sniffling as the tears streamed steadily down his face. The sound was small, so small she was almost unsure if she heard it, but Severus Snape stood before her crying, eyes quivering and red. She watched frozen to the spot, her back still pressed against the wall as if he were still pinning her there, as he sank almost in slow motion to his knees. His frame shook, her shoulders hunching in over himself as he raked trembling fingers into his hair before collapsing completely to the floor, burying his face against his knees.
                To say that Hermione was stunned was an understatement. She could still feel the sting of his vice-like grip on her wrists. In a bizarre moment of petrified clarity, she managed to summon her wand, but could do little else than cast the simplest of spells— a Muffliato Charm— around the two of them before she felt her own body sliding to the floor. Bereft of words and sense, Hermione stared at him, wondering how her face had become so wet. It took her a moment to realize that she too was crying, though rather more silently than she had ever recalled crying. She longed for a great many things and for nothing at all in that moment. She needed to touch him; not to comfort him but because she herself desperately needed the skin to skin comfort of contact. And yet she needed to be as far from him as humanly possible in that moment. But she could do neither.
                Hours passed; minutes passed. Hermione couldn’t tell how time had moved or if it was even moving at all. Her eyes stung; they were swollen and dry. She felt as if she had no more tears left to cry. With breaths too shaky to formulate words, she tried to calm herself, rubbing furiously at her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to force the remnant of tears from them. She could see him there, just inches in front of her, still hunched over himself, still trembling with tears, still crying ever so quietly. More hours and minutes passed, or perhaps they didn’t, but it was sometime before she was finally able to pull herself to her feet.
                Hermione didn’t reach for her clothes. She didn’t dress herself, she didn’t even really draw her robe tightly around her figure. For a moment she stood stone still staring at his still-trembling figure, though somewhere in the back of her mind she noted that the sound of his crying had stilled. With a slow sigh, Hermione took one step toward the workshop door. “I’m going home,” she whispered, her voice a broken croak. “You come home when you’re ready.”

To all of my readers here at AFF.org, I did not abandon this story, I just did not realize that I had not mentioned it was rehomed to Archive Of Our Own sometime ago. I am in the process of rehoming other stories (and newer content) there as well. There will be no new updates of any story or content here with AFF. And given the passive-aggressive nature of the ToS Moderator who approached me about my update, I wouldn't be surprised if they just delete all of my content anyhow. (So if it vanishes- you can blame them 100%! I won't be removing things from here until everything is fully shifted over to A03!)
For this story, there are 5 new chapters and a 6th on the way at Archive of Our Own- And I keep an active commentary section for readers to leave feedback and ask questions there. I'm sorry for the inconvenience this may have caused for anyone wondering where in Zeus' butthole the updates had gone!
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Weasley's Wizard Wheezes