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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: Anon1 – I appreciate you putting so much effort into your review. Your comments, as do everyone else’s, really shape the story as it evolves. I like your prognostications about how things could evolve and it helped me to decide. You sound like an artist – maybe you can give me some thoughts that I could include. I’d like to think I’d recognise him too. Perhaps this chapter might shed a little light?

Anon2 – Hahah, I like how the dressing room scene shocked you into silence. There’s a good reason the rational mind features so prominently – I have the same problem :)

Lovey_Reader – I’m glad you found the dressing room funny and sad – it was definitely meant to be both. Hermione might be clueless . . . hopefully this chapter might answer a few questions. P.S. There are plenty of Waldos for you to enjoy.

Oracle – thanks for those effing commas. I’ll probably have more in this one – remember 24 times doth a habit break. Slug in a web is definitely disgusting. I’ve tried a slight variation on your where’s Waldo as I think it was getting too easy. You had some cracking lines this time – ‘Grape Snape needs a date’, ‘Snape Spanx’ – bahahahahahahahh, ‘snot-jaculate’ – I vote for that to be the next entry into the Oxford English Dictionary. ‘Did you sneeze, or are you just happy to see me?’ – best pick-up line ever.

Bournespeed – Please don’t hold back with your English. As you can see, I don’t :) Hopefully you will keep it up in this chapter!

Anon for now – I am very happy with myself, and you, for finally reviewing. It is a huge buzz to drag this out of you. Now will you continue? I’d love to hear more. I love that you know your fanfic and you think this is suitably insane. I haven’t been here for long so I’m not a great judge but I thought it might be a bit ‘out there’. Here’s your chapter as requested.

Chapter 4 – In the Grip of the Grape

“I can’t believe you did that.” Hermione stared at him. “You went to all that effort, hiding and sneaking around, just to . . . surprise me?”

He shrugged.

Hermione looked dumbfounded as she lifted the pink dress from its soft tissue wrapping. And he smiled under the veil. While she had been occupied with returning the pile of unwanted dresses and disposing of a large handful of dirty tissues, he had bought her the pink dress. It wasn’t just because he felt bad about her cleaning up after him, he wanted to get it for her because it was her favourite. I hope you don’t think this is going to make you her favourite?

His smile disappeared. Couldn’t he just enjoy one moment of warm fuzzy delusion without his mind needing to snap-kick him in the balls?

“I don’t know what to say.” Hermione looked genuinely overcome, there were unshed tears shimmering in her eyes.

Now look what you’ve done.

“I wish there was something I could do to repay you. Is there anything I can do? Anything?”

He wished she’d stop with that pleading voice. And repeating ‘anything’ over and over. There was a certain cock within earshot that might take that as an invitation to jump into any one of her orifices and shake itself up until it exploded.

Even as his cock nodded its head, Severus shook his.

“Mrs Grape, this is probably the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me.”

She stood from the small table in her tiny flat and shuffled around the corner of it to hug him, her bushy hair rasping against his veil as her warm body pressed into his. He closed his eyes briefly, savouring her closeness and realising that coming here had been yet another mistake.

He didn’t have the physical fortitude to cope with being near her. His cock, popping up like a whac-a-mole every time she looked at him, attested to that. But worse, he no longer had the emotional resilience or, rather, deadening that the bottle had always provided. He was raw and vulnerable and dressed like a fucking old woman. He couldn’t stoop any lower if he had had his nuts stapled to his nipples. Which is pretty much how he felt right now as she crouched before him, her hand resting on his thigh.

“I have something to show you.”

Oh fuck, what now? He wasn’t sure he could take any more of her. If she revealed a wart on her elbow he would probably spray his stockings.

Taking him by the hand, she led him toward a narrow staircase that ended in, what he imagined, was a loft bedroom.

Fuuuuuucccckkkk! His inner voice was in ‘I don’t trust this shit’ mode, and he had to will his hands to stop their nervous clenching before they started up.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he frowned, not quite sure of what he was seeing. It was clearly her bedroom, the unmade bed in the middle confirmed that, but the walls were haphazardly hung with dozens of pictures on different sized scraps of paper. All drawings—sketches. Of hands. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, and his sinking stomach told him he wasn’t, they appeared to be his hands.

She sighed. “I’ve been trying to get your hands right from memory but I knew I hadn’t quite captured them. That’s why I wanted you here. Otherwise it was going to drive me nuts.”

Drive her nuts? He was pretty sure that had already happened. Although in no position, himself, to comment on creepiness, he suddenly had an urgent need to check the stove to see whether she happened to have any bunnies on the boil.

“You probably think I’m a bit strange.” She turned to him with a weary smile. “I get these unhealthy obsessions.”

Another admission he probably couldn’t afford to comment on, mutely or otherwise.

“In fact, my best friend Ginny, I told you about her earlier remember? Anyway, she took me aside yesterday to basically tell me that my obsessions were the reason they didn’t invite me around much anymore. I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve lived on my own for the past four years with only Crooks for company, or if my art is somehow warping my mind, but Ginny says I seem to have become totally self-obsessed. Which is probably right—I do talk about myself a lot.” She flopped down onto her bed. “She also says I focus on abstract details.” She gestured to the images around her. “Avoiding reality. And that’s why everything seems to be falling apart, including my relationships.”

Severus stared at her, seeing too many painful similarities. Her art was her escape from reality, his was the whisky. They were both punishing themselves with their obsessions, struggling to maintain relationships and clinging to delusions to, ironically, keep sane.

Her face was pinched with raw pain, deep and visceral. “It feels like if I can get your hands right, if I can get anything right—perfect. Then, I will discover the truth. That it is there, somewhere, in the detail. The finest of detail. And if I can only look hard enough. Be open enough. I will be gifted the secrets. I will see them. And capture them.”

Fuck.

“But maybe that’s the problem.” She grabbed one of the paintbrushes scattered on the bed and tapped it against her knee as the tears fell. “Maybe the truth can’t be deconstructed like that. Maybe I should be looking for the big picture. Connecting the parts to understand the whole. Something I’m not very good at.”

No! Don’t do it you stupid fucking cunt! You’ll destroy her!

The hand that had been rising toward his hat, ready to remove it, deviated to her shoulder and squeezed it gently.

She placed her hand on top of his.

“I also told Ginny about you.” She wiped her nose on her other wrist. “She said you sounded weird. And creepy. I tried to explain to her that you are the only one who seems to accept me for who I am. You don’t ask anything of me. You don’t expect me to be different. And are still willing to keep my company even when I do talk about myself. You’re kind. And helpful. And generous.” She gestured to the dress that she’d placed on the bed. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Severus’ eyes stung as he tried to swallow down the quaffle-sized lump in his throat.

“I’m really afraid that I’ll eventually drive you away too.”

Her expression was so forlorn that he wanted to grab her and hold her to his chest.

“And when you kissed my hand so gently I . . . I . . . wanted to . . . kiss you too. I’m so sorry. I know it’s wrong. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Maybe I’m just so lonely.”

The steady stream of tears turned into quiet sobs.

He took the tissue she had given him from his pocket and handed it to her, clean. She reached out, but instead of taking the tissue she grabbed him by the wrist.

He rolled his eyes. Not the fucking hands again.

Shit!

Suddenly she yanked him forward onto the bed and rolled him onto his back. He only just managed to grab his hat with both hands, cramming it onto his head.

Straddling his waist, she quickly wiped her damp face with her hands.

“Mrs Grape.” She looked down at him somewhat apologetically. “I’m not normally like this. But there’s something about you. Something irresistible.”

He pulled the veil down tighter, as she tried to pry his hands away.

“I wish I could see your face.”

He shook his head vigorously.

“I’m sure that you’re beautiful.”

He shook his head even more vigorously.

She gave a watery smile. “There must be parts of you that are beautiful.” Her fingers trailed down to the top button of his shirt and started to undo it.

He clamped his hand there first. She tried to move to the next but he wrenched that out of her grasp.

“Mrs Grape, I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to . . . understand you. And I want you to understand me.”

She’ll fucking understand you soon enough. Severus’ mind was in ‘I fucking told you so’ mode.

She put her hands against his chest and slid them down his blouse toward his abdomen.

“Your body is so . . . hard. Do you work out?”

Oh my fucking god!

“It actually feels so good on my . . . “

She started to grind herself against his lower abdomen.

“Mrs Grape, I don’t even know if you have a husband.” She closed her eyes as she leaned back against his knees, continuing to rub herself against him. “I’m so sorry that I’m using you for this. I really hope you can forgive me.”

Her chest was rising and falling as she pushed rhythmically into him, abrading her mound with the rough denim. Faster and deeper.

Suddenly she stopped. Her eyes sprang open.

“Mrs Grape,” she said slowly as her hand slid behind her bottom. “Is that what I think it is?”

Surprise!

“Oh thank Merlin.” The look of relief that flooded her face startled him. “That explains so much.” She let out a sigh. “May I?”

May she? What was it? A teacake? A scone?

Still clutching the veil, he gave a small nod.

“You won’t regret this,” she said.

Oh . . . God . . .

“You see.” She swung her leg over like she was dismounting a horse, and twisted until she was kneeling beside him. “The thing about the last four years is that I haven’t had many partners.” She proceeded to roll him so she could access the buttons on the back of his skirt, flicking them open with one hand. “But I’ve being doing a lot of reading.” She rolled him back and grasped the skirt in both hands. “And watching. And practising.” She suddenly yanked it down in one pull. And there it was. The masked bandit.

“Shit.” She winced empathetically. “That looks painful.”

Gently, she grabbed the elastic of his stockings and gradually worked them down, careful not to cause any more damage to his heavily restrained, almost bloodless, cock. He gave an audible sigh when it was free and she proceeded to flip off his shoes and pull the stockings off his feet.

He was now naked from the waist down, wearing a white blouse, with a veiled hat clamped against his head.

No wonder she finds you fucking irresistible.

And then, cradling him in her warm, soft hands, she knelt between his knees, lowering her mouth, tongue first, over his weeping tip.

Shows how much you fucking know, he retaliated, before groaning inwardly as his back arched off the bed.

Slowly, methodically, she began by bobbing her head up and down on the end of his cock, dipping her tongue into the slit and licking up the salty promise of more come to come. As she prodded insistently and wiggled around inside it, his abdominal muscles locked and spasmed, pushing out a grunt of intense satisfaction. Closing her lips in an airtight seal around his cock she dipped down further, hooking his frenulum with her tongue on every upward stroke.

Fuck. She must have been studying sex like it was her N.E.W.T.s.

Meanwhile her hand grasped his shaft, cranking the blood back into it with each stroke until it was fully engorged and her lips were stretched wide, trying to accommodate his new pulsating girth. Her other hand slipped down to his balls, rolling them around expertly between her fingers, stroking the stretchy, pliable skin and squeezing them gently, preparing the contents for ejection.

“Fuck!” He ground out and clutched at her hair, trying to slow her down.

She released him with a pop. “Don’t worry Mrs Grape, I’ve got this.”

Oh Fuck. That was so wrong.

Quickly, efficiently, she stood and kicked off her shoes before pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it to the floor. Seconds later her jeans were off and she was back in that beautiful matching satin and lace underwear.

“Just to make it even, I’ll leave this on.” She nodded down at her breasts before hooking her fingers in her knickers and dragging them down.

He could see the moist hairs clinging to her sex and started to salivate, wishing he could lick the arousal right out of her. Admittedly, that would be difficult through a veil.

She climbed on and immediately straddled him, a hungry look in her eyes as she stared down at his obscured face. “I’d love to watch you come. But I’m just going to have to settle for listening to you.”

And with that she impaled herself, slowly, exquisitely, rocking against his fullness to ease it inch by inch into her tight sheath. She heard him alright!

“Oh . . . Oh Gods!” he moaned, his chest heaving and his one free hand clawing at her thigh.

When she had fully accommodated him, she stilled for a moment before squeezing him as tight as she could with her pelvic floor.

“Merlin!” His pelvis jolted upward again.

“Keep talking to me,” she breathed as she started her unhurried, highly focused, cunt on cock massage, working her muscles (finely honed after years of Pilates) in a grinding upward wave that squeezed and sucked at him like a toothpaste tube.

Not only was her channel impossibly hot and tight, its wet squelches of arousal forced even more blood into his rigidly engorged cock. He gripped her hip with his hand and started, on each of her downward strokes, to thrust up into her.

And her face changed. Each time he rammed into her, a deep moan jolted from her chest. Her breathing turned ragged and her eyes closed. She gripped the hand that gripped her and began moving with greater abandon.

She was so beautiful. Sighs ghosted from her soft engorged lips as her panting increased. He knew that look. She was getting close. And he felt it, deep in her core, the tension clenching at his shaft. Gripping her hip even more tightly he started pulling her down as his cock heaved into her, breaking another sound barrier.

Her moans increased in pitch and she keened in time with her pumping shoulders as his low grunts joined hers in discordant harmony. Reaching down, he slid his thumb between her lips and urgently rubbed at her swollen pink clitoris.

“Unnnhhh,” she called to the ceiling. “That’s so good!”

She rode him, thumping down heavily on his cock so that it jolted her insides. Soon the cascading reverberations had built to breaking point.

“I’m gonna come,” she cried.

But he already knew, he felt her muscles tighten and then explode around his cock, squeezing and milking him in powerful rippling waves as she gasped and rasped over him. As he continued to work her clitoris, a stream of her juices gushed down his pumping cock and he was gone.

“Uuuhhhhhhh,” he groaned as his balls finally ejected their full load through his violently pulsating shaft. Squirting up inside her shuddering channel, he coated her insides before ramming it home with each frenzied thrust. He continued his heavily lubricated pistoning, their juices melting together around him, until he was drained.

She leaned over him, arms on either side of his torso as she tried to catch her breath, her sheath continuing to spasm and drink at his cock, insatiable.

“Mrs Grape,” she murmured between breaths. “You really are full of surprises.”

If only she knew just how fucking many. Shut the fuck up! He shoved his rational mind to the side, revelling in her sweet juices and desperately clinging on to unreality.
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Grape Juice *Complete*

Grape Juice Complete