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Grape Juice Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 7905 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
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A/N: Lovey_Reader – I guess he is sort of ‘seeing’ her in drag. I’ll make sure there is a cock in every chapter for you – that can be your where’s wally/waldo :) Hermione bringing colour to brighten his world – I like that. Painting or sketching scenes – you may be onto something :)

Bournespeed – I’m glad you are enjoying. I wonder when she will twig :)

Oracle – Congratulations on finding your Where’s Waldo. I almost forgot to put one in this chapter. Yes I did mean sterling (thanks for that). I like that you like my foreshadowing. Absolutely, I am all for men in women’s clothes, even if it is just to appreciate the torture of it. ‘I hear vaginal dryness is a complaint of the older woman’ – that has made me laugh more than anything. Death by fork – it’s a pretty desperate situation, agreed. I’m glad I’ve sucked you in again.

Chapter 3 – Grape Balls of Fire!

He would definitely not be going clothes shopping with her in Hogsmeade. Absolutely not. It was preposterous. He could never take the risk of being identified. They’d have to go shopping in London instead.

And so he found himself standing on the corner of a busy London Street, waiting impatiently for her. He’d managed to transfigure one of his white shirts into a blouse and wore a robe that he’d transfigured into a light jacket. The skirt was still a problem. He hoped she wouldn’t realise that he’d worn the same one every time. And the stockings? Well, he’d made the mistake of thinking that he could get away with wearing nothing underneath them and currently felt himself uncomfortably cocooned, like a slug in a web.

The thick veil of his hat turned everyone and everything into grey shadows, so he shouldn’t have been surprised that he didn’t notice her until she suddenly grabbed him by the hand.

“Mrs Grape!” She pulled his arm, trying to kiss his cheek, but he stiffened just in time and she caught him on the neck, just above the collar. He couldn’t afford to have her too close to his face, particularly in the bright light of day, in the middle of a London street.

But, as usual, she seemed unperturbed by his odd, stilted and mute antics, chatting away like they were old friends. As she took him by the arm and headed toward her ‘favourite shop’ she told him all about the new painting she had started, visiting her good friends Harry and Ginny and their new baby, an argument she’d had with her landlord, and a variety of other random thoughts that seemed to float through her mind, all by the time they had walked half a block.

“Here it is,” she announced, gazing into the shop window. “I have to tell you why we’re here Mrs Grape.” She turned to him. “I’ve been asked out on a date.”

Severus stiffened.

“It’s a guy from work,” she continued. “He’s asked me out dozens of times and I’ve always said no but,” she sighed, “I figured I wasn’t getting any younger and, you know, he has a good job and, well, I thought ‘What have I got to lose?’”

She shrugged and looked at him expectantly. He couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to.

Realising that he wasn’t going to respond, she turned toward the door. “So what I really hoped you would do for me, Mrs Grape, is to give me some female advice on a new dress.”

Good God! He thought he’d be waiting around and carrying bags. Not . . .

Yanking open the door, she dragged him inside so fast that he almost tripped over the step and had to clutch at his hat to stop it from toppling off.

A well-dressed woman instantly breezed over to them. “May I help you?” A practised smile alighted her features.

“Oh yes please,” Hermione nodded excitedly. “I’d like to try on some of your dresses. My friend here is going to help me choose.”

The woman’s smile only faltered slightly when she took in the tall, veiled woman that the pretty young girl was clutching like a security blanket.

The other advantage of the dark veil was that Severus could roll his eyes at will, which he did now, realizing just how much he had fucked up. He had been living in a bizarre delusion since his ungainly escape from the cinema—mooning over her, wanking over her, thinking that they had some sort of relationship. Merlin’s syphilitic scrotum! He’d even stopped drinking. What for? Because she made him want to be a better person? Oh fuck off! You stupid fucking wanker!

But they were already standing by the dresses. Row upon row of expensive material resting on hangers. The woman was holding up one after the other and Hermione was pointing at some and dismissing others. It was like he was standing outside of himself, watching some sort of disturbing child’s play, a beautiful young woman unknowingly clutching onto the Beast, the Big Bad Wolf—‘Why Mrs Grape, what a big nose you have’, ‘All the better to smell you with my dear’, ‘And Mrs Grape, what a deep voice you have’, ‘All the better to lie to you with my dear’, ‘And Mrs Grape what the fuck is that in your pants?’

“Mrs Grape!” Hermione cut into his thoughts. “Do you like this one?”

Severus, lost at sea, simply nodded.

“Okay, we’ll try that one on too.” Hermione smiled at the woman.

And so, with the armful of dresses, a shiny mountain of misery, they proceeded to the fitting rooms.

“Mrs Grape, I want you in here with me so I don’t have to keep coming out,” she said, pulling him toward one of the rooms.

“Can we have a chair in here for Mrs Grape, please?” she said to the woman who immediately nodded and bustled off to retrieve one.

You have to go! Run away now! But how could he explain it to her? He didn’t have to explain it. He just wouldn’t see her again. She didn’t know where he lived. She didn’t even know who he was. His hands started clenching nervously again and Hermione looked up at him, mistaking the gesture for excitement or reassurance.

“I knew you’d love this,” she said. “There’s nothing better than two girls getting together and trying on clothes.”

He only just stifled a groan as the woman returned with a seat and placed it in the corner of their mirrored cubicle.

“Let me know if you need any help,” she smiled, before pulling the curtain closed.

Severus perched on the small chair, glad that he’d brought his clutch purse which he now positioned, strategically, over his lap.

“I think I’ll try this one first. Can you hang on to it for me?” She placed a blue dress over his clutch and then started to undress.

He absolutely shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be watching. She probably wouldn’t know if his eyes were open or not through the thick veil, but it was completely wrong. If she knew that her former potions professor was currently sitting only a foot or two from her, watching her undress, she would have more than a conniption fit, she would likely hex his balls right off. And so she should.

But he couldn’t seem to look away or close his eyes, as she kicked her shoes into the corner before casually undoing her shirt buttons, top to bottom, revealing a dusky pink satin and lace bra. His lips fell apart and his chest started to heave. She was the most exquisite creature he had ever beheld. Her skin, smooth and creamy, covered a symphony of soft curves and lean muscle in the most glorious tribute to feminine beauty. Dropping her shirt to the ground, she flipped open the button and lowered the zip on her denim jeans before peeling them off. It was done so unselfconsciously, without a glance in the mirror, that it was even more tantalising than if she had been aware and deliberately looking to entice. Her matching satin knickers were partially dragged down by her jeans, revealing half of the soft pale globe of one cheek.

He was hyperventilating. He so wanted to reach out and touch her.

But she absently hitched her knickers back into place, before reaching out for the dress and taking it from his hands, apparently unaware of the tremble.

Slipping the dress on, she asked him to fasten the zip which he did, gently resting his fingers on her back as he slid the zip closed.

She pulled a face in the mirror. “It doesn’t look that good on,” she said, before turning for him to release the zip.

Doesn’t look that good on? How could anything not look good on that body?

But that was how the next half hour proceeded. Her trying on dress after dress, him holding, zipping, hooking, buttoning, cinching. At one stage she grasped him by the shoulders while he helped drag a form-fitting number down over her hips. Her breasts were, literally, in his face, jiggling like creamy bowls of panna cotta. His mouth watered as his cock surged and twitched. The whole process had been pure torture for his frantic member which jostled around like a netted animal, trying to escape. Perhaps in the future he might need to consider transfiguring some sort of cock corset?

And then, whilst trying to demonstrate a problem with the hemline on one dress she slipped her foot onto the chair, between his legs. Grazing her warm foot along the underside of his balls.

He gasped. “I agree.” She nodded. “It’s pretty badly made. I won’t be buying this one.”

Then she sighed. “I know which one I like most but, as is always the case, it’s way out of my price range. I think I’ll go with the black one instead. What do you think?”

He knew which one she was talking about, it was a slightly darker pink hue than her underwear and she looked stunning in it. The black one was also lovely. Everything was lovely. She could wear anything or nothing. Preferably nothing. But that was only the opinion of a grizzled old pervy professor and not the young man that she was looking to date. He shouldn’t even have an opinion.

He nodded.

“Thank you so much,” she gave a smile of such appreciation that he felt himself blush. Then she leaned forward, pulled the veil slightly to the side and kissed him. Her soft lips pressing against the corner of his mouth. And he leapt up.

“Are you alright Mrs Grape?” She fell backwards in alarm.

He nodded feverishly before lunging out of the curtained cubicle and rushing out to the clothing racks. Grabbing something that looked big, he rushed back in, ducked his head into the cubicle and pointed to it.

“Oh, you want to try something on too?” Hermione beamed.

He nodded emphatically.

“Excellent!” she cried.

He scanned around for the dressing room furthest from hers, rushed in, threw the top on the ground and grabbed the curtain, hauling it closed before balling it in his fist and holding it against the wall. He didn’t want her coming in. Or that bloody shop assistant. Then, one handed, he wrenched up his skirt to reveal the most dishevelled looking cock he had ever seen. It looked like a masked bandit, about to commit a break and enter. He knew exactly who he would prefer to be breaking and entering but would have to be satisfied with a quick ‘hijacking’.

Yanking his stockings down, he clutched his blotchy shaft and started to stroke it gently. Releasing a long breath, he allowed himself to relax into a rhythm. He was so close already, having been on the edge for so long. All he had to do was conjure those perfect breasts hanging in his face, the cleavage, dark and enticing—and imagine his tongue flicking out, delving between them.

“Uuuuuhhhhh.” He couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips as his head pitched forward. His grip tightened on his cock as he started pumping it in longer strokes, from the base to the tip. Pre-cum dribbled down from the red hole, it was clearly also desperate to come despite the difficult morning. The head had deepened to a healthier purple and, no doubt would have preferred to be butting against a creamy cervix than being on centre-stage in a gaudy mirror-box, but there weren’t any better options on offer at that moment.

He sped up his practised wrist and felt the tension building in his balls. He thought about that perfect arse, soft and round and . . .

“Unnhhh,” he grunted.

“Mrs Grape? Are you okay?”

She was just outside the cubicle.

“Mmmmm,” he groaned, as his cock strained.

“You don’t sound okay.” He felt her tugging on the curtain.

Then his hair-trigger balls squeezed and he started to come. He grunted as sprays of his seed squirted over the mirror in front of him. Surge after surge of pearlescent release splattered over the highly polished surface.

The curtain jiggled more insistently and then it suddenly jerked open. In one motion he turned, painfully trapped his pulsing cock in the elastic of his stockings and threw down his skirt.

“Mrs Grape,” Hermione’s mouth hung open. “Are you alright?”

He couldn’t speak or look at her.

“What’s that on the mirror? Is that glue?”

It probably wasn’t the right time to suggest ‘hand cream?’

“Oh, it’s sticky!”

She’d obviously touched it. Fuck.

“Mrs Grape,” her voice was low and serious. “Did you sneeze?”

He couldn’t answer. He could hardly breathe.

“Have you still got that bad cold and you didn’t tell me?” She sighed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve had terrible colds in the past and I know how bad they can be.”

“Look at me.” She turned him around. “I know you don’t like talking much but I wish you’d said something. See, I could have given you this.”

She reached into her handbag and pulled out a pack of tissues. “Here’s one for you.” She handed it to him. “And I’ll clean this up.”

He let it dangle from his fingers, guessing that he probably shouldn’t use it to wipe his cock. Then she proceeded to use another three tissues to clean up the mirror. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the sight of her carefully wiping up the sticky streams of his release. Her face was a picture of concentration, her pink tongue sticking slightly out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on buffing and polishing away the evidence.

“Now, after that, I insist that you come to my house for that cold potion.” She fixed him with a serious frown. “I won’t take no for an answer. And . . . I want to draw you. Those beautiful hands. Please say you’ll let me?”

She gave him that soft, pleading look again. If you do this I am fucking leaving. His rational self had clearly had enough. But she’d just handled his come so lovingly. Wasn’t that worth something? No, you fucking dickhead, she thought it was your snot!

Snot, come, whatever, he was going.
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Grape Juice *Complete*

Grape Juice Complete