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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90308 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 45
- 46
- 47
"And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After"

Chapter Forty-Six
“Freely Given, But Not For Sale”

Disclaimer: Rowling owns all concepts and intellectual property affiliated with Harry Potter. No money is being made from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Warning: Do not read while drinking fluids, especially at work. Your co-workers and boss may wonder why you spewed liquids all over your screen and keyboard.

============

A ray of morning sunlight in Hermione's eye awoke her. Out of habit, she reached across the bed only to discover Ron was already up. By the time she was in the kitchen, she had surmised that her husband had already left for his Saturday game in Sweden. Ron's coach preferred to have the players use a Portkey to their game destination early in the day, to let them acclimatize to the local weather.

With the exception of Tuesday night, things had gone rather smoothly between Hermione and Ron that week. It helped that Hermione was gone Monday and Thursday nights, and Ron had been gone for the past couple of Wednesday nights for dance lessons with Rogina at the Listing Broom.

During Tuesday's session, James, their marriage counselor, had brought up the idea that maybe Hermione and Ron should take dancing lessons together, but both Ron and Hermione seemed to find the separation between them as a relief to the pressure of living with one another. Ron seemed to fumble for the words to express he did not want to start taking lessons with his wife. Hermione, equally adverse to the idea of losing her two nights a week with Severus, quickly came up with the excuse for both of them that their anniversary was almost here, and changing dance instructors at the last minute might be disruptive to the lesson plans for them. Mr. Hoover countered with the idea that maybe after their anniversary they might find some common hobby they could share. Neither Ron nor Hermione felt the desire to agree to such an idea. However, neither wanted to be the one to decline the suggestion either, for fear that it would make one of them appear that they were not willing to ‘try.’

Hermione meditated on thoughts of Severus as she sipped her tea and stared out the kitchen window. Since Thursday night, one thought had kept popping up in her mind.

'I have literally slept with Severus. Not slept in the sense of the euphemism, but slept in his bed with him next to me.' The thought made her blush.

But she had fallen asleep in his arms before. It was on the settee before, but the idea that she had lain in his bed made all the fantasies she had of Severus seem all the more vivid, for now she could imagine the feeling of his bedclothes cushioning her back and the scent of his pillow. She found herself wondering what Severus smelled like during sex.

Ron smelled like grass and the Quidditch locker room at Hogwarts. The couple of times she ventured into the changing room at school, egged on by Ron to find some interesting place to have sex during their seventh year instead of in her safe and secure Head Girl’s room, she found the scent to be... unique. Not quite offensive, but not exactly heady either.

After thinking about Severus once more, and avoiding thoughts of Ron, Hermione realized she had a prime chance to sample the sexual wares that the twins sent via Owl Post the week before. Digging around the pantry, she found the untouched box still under the cleaning supplies.

Opening the box to inspect the items, she wasn't sure to be embarrassed, shocked, or titillated. Attached to each one was a little card with the item’s name, description, and brief set of instructions.

Pulling out the smallest dildo, and holding it between her index finger and thumb like it was a piece of dead vermin, Hermione turned the card and read aloud, “The Junior Assistant: For those who need a little help through their day. To activate the Vibration Charm, say, 'Cauldron bottom thickness.' To end the vibration charm, say Demotion.'”

Hermione laughed realizing that the twins had named a simulated prick after their older brother, whom they had called an officious, bureaucratic little prick on many occasions.

Lifting out the biggest and most frightening of the assorted ‘toys’ — perplexed as to how a two-headed vibrator was all supposed to fit into one orifice — Hermione read the card: “The Decadent Doppelganger: For those who want to double their fun. To activate the Thrusting Charm, say 'Seconds, please.' To end the charm, say, 'I'm full.'” Her face turned scarlet when she suddenly realized where the vibrator’s second head went.

Hermione was quite astounded that the twins could create magical items that did not require the use of a wand to activate or end the spell, realizing that customers would not want to bother wielding their wand – the wooden one – while in the middle of sex.

There was one that looked very different from the rest, not like an erect penis at all. Glancing at the card, she almost dropped it out of shock. “The Lone Rump Ranger: The ultimate butt plug. Heigh Ho, Ranger, AWAY!” She put that one back in the box, unwilling to read any further. There was a moment where she wondered if Ginny's western-themed party for Harry had inspired that one, but pushed the thought aside.

There was “The Mighty Mountin' Man: Guaranteed to explore your uncharted territory,” the “The Stratospheric Stud: Bringing your orgasm to new heights by sweeping you off your feet and onto your back,” and “Wobbly Wiley Willy: Looks like an ordinary Muggle torch until you turn it on, and it turns you on.”

By the time she had looked over each one while wondering how the twins had come up with those names and corny descriptions — and avoiding thoughts of how the twins created the prototypes — Hermione had no extra time to experiment with any of them. She looked over the selection and picked The Junior Assistant to take with her to the spa. Ginny usually took a couple hours for her massage and body scrub, so there would be a few hours where Hermione could have some private time in her cubicle. Besides, she had so much practice being quiet during masturbation (not that she was ever that vocal with Ron anyway), she was sure she could be discreet enough so that no one would ever know what she was up to behind the partition.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus and Draco reached the Madam Hope's Eternal Springs and Day Spa on the men's side. Once settled into their cubicles, this time picking a couple of cubicles decorated in Russian Baroque, they started off with a nice sweat in the sauna.

Since it had been warm recently, the dark-haired wizard excused himself after five minutes for a dip in the cold plunge pool. Once Severus shut the door to the sauna, he summoned a house-elf.

“Mrs. Hermione Weasley is booked to come here today. I want you to take care of a couple of things for me. First of all, I want you to adjust the schedule for Mrs. Weasley's massage so that she goes into massage room number seven. Then at the last minute, I want you to tell the masseuse or masseur that another masseur will take care of Mrs. Weasley. I need you to get me one of the uniforms and tell me what time her massage is, as well,” Severus instructed one of the day spa house-elves.

The house-elf looked at the wizard oddly with a vacant stare for a moment before Severus barked, “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No! No, sir!” the house-elf squeaked. “Will you be needing anything else, sir?”

“Yes. And I need this done discreetly. I need you to do a few more errands as well. Take care of the first task, and I will instruct you on what else I need done. And make sure that you do not approach me while Mr. Malfoy is around,” he added, not wanting to deal with the comments Draco would make if he learned of what Severus had planned later that day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The two witches stepped into the lobby of the spa, and Hermione paused to take a deep breath. With her eyes closed, Hermione exhaled and already felt the tension ebb away.

'I could have taken Severus up on that massage, but I will certainly appreciate it more today since I'm so tense. Besides, Severus is just plain tempting, so it was just better not to accept his offer,' Hermione convinced herself.

Hermione and Ginny were led to their cubicles and left to undress.

The cool white of the Corinthian columns contrasted starkly to the ornate tile mosaics on the wall and floor, and the wooden récamier piled so high with soft cushions and pillows for luxurious comfort.

Hermione hung her clothes and robe on the charmed valet set up in the corner that would present her with perfectly clean and pressed clothes at the end of her stay. From her cloak pocket, she removed an item wrapped up in a plain brown paper bag, hoping the house-elves would not go poking about her cubicle, and placed it on the table next to the enchanted valet.

'I really should get one of these valets for the flat someday.'

“I'm sorry that Ron didn't like your dress, Hermione,” Ginny called out over the partition.

“I told you not to worry about it, Ginny,” Hermione responded. “The only one who didn't like my dress was Ron. It's not your fault. Besides,” she added ruefully, “if it wasn't the dress, I think he would have found something else to complain about. He had already laid into me for trying to partake in the dinner conversation.”

“By your description, it sounds like the party was a bore,” the redhead said.

“It was. Remember how bad it was when dealing with Christie and Nicole that one time you and Harry came to the game?” Hermione asked.

The brunette witch grabbed the vial she had picked up at the Apothecary before meeting Ginny, and drank the elixir. Feeling a small, brief stab in her lower abdomen, she knew the potion was working. Now she could go and enjoy her day at the spa while menstruation was halted for the next twelve hours. Hermione wished that the potion would stop her from having her period entirely, but a fertile witch's body demanded that a lining would be produced and expelled monthly. The Menstruation Cessation Draught is only meant to provide a bit of convenience when menstruation would happen at an inconvenient time.

“Uh-huh,” Ginny replied.

“Imagine that all evening long.”

Ginny groaned in sympathetic pain for her friend.

Hermione emerged from her cubicle and finally noticed that the day spa seemed rather deserted. It was August, and like most of the Muggle world, many wizarding families went on holiday around that time of year. It also helped that the recent heat wave had driven people away from spending their leisure time in a sauna, steam room, and hot springs.

With fewer witches around, Hermione felt a little less self-conscious about herself and walked around with just a towel around her waist and another one thrown over her shoulder, like Ginny.

As they settled in for a good sweat in the sauna, Hermione was quietly pensive. She almost asked Ginny why she had finally decided to sleep with Malfoy, but remembered that Ginny said it happened so suddenly. The redheaded witch mentioned that one minute she was getting a neck rub from Malfoy, and the next minute they were naked and making love. Hermione’s belly tightened with desire from just thinking about how easily she would probably part her legs if Severus gave her that full body massage, and then allow him to take her.

Hermione threw a towel over her head for fear Ginny could read her mind by the look on her face as she thought of Severus giving her a massage.

“Is it too hot for you?” Ginny asked, noticing Hermione placing the towel over her head.

“No.”

The older witch went on internally debating if she should even ask Ginny questions about what it was like falling in love with Malfoy; how she dealt with the fact that he sleeps with other witches for money, and did the guilt over cheating on her husband ever tear her apart? But since Hermione guessed that Ginny and Severus were friends – a thought still incomprehensible – she wondered if any of her questions would get back to Severus. Once again, she curbed her curiosity, not wanting the answers, partly out of fear for implicating herself for contemplating an affair with Severus.

Wishing for a little more privacy in which to let her mind meditate on matters, Hermione left the sauna and jumped into the cold plunge pool, enjoying the shock to her skin. The temperature change left her skin tingling and hyper-aware of the small eddies and currents within the pool.

Floating face-up in the natatorium, her hair splayed about her like some star burst halo, Hermione let herself drift about as her mind tried not to focus on Severus, and on the significance of her upcoming anniversary dinner.

Though Ron had said he wanted a chance to properly romance her, Hermione noticed that her husband had made no move to do anything other than tell her to go buy some nice dresses, which he complained about anyway, and making reservations for dinner. All those other weekends he could have been taking her for a nice picnic or little Sunday jaunts to the coast, but hadn’t. If anything, it seemed Ron was just going through the motions.

Hermione could not entirely blame her husband. She could have suggested those ideas herself, but did not feel inspired to be thrown into a potentially romantic situation only to have it soured by more bickering and arguments. Somehow the idea of a nice day out only to be eventually ruined would only heighten Hermione's disappointment, thus being reminded just how ill-suited they were for one another.

It was depressing. The more Hermione thought about how her marriage was disintegrating faster than the tattered curtains in the kitchen, she just wanted to expel her breath and sink to the bottom of the pool.

'I wonder if Ron would mourn for me if I drowned.'

The morose part of Hermione envisioned a relieved Ron, free of the burden of having to face another argument with her as he stood by her grave.

Blindly staring up at the dome above her, featuring stained glass water nymphs gamboling about in a cascading stream, she wished to be free of such mortal burdens, like a conscience. It would be so much easier if she did not take certain aspects of her life so seriously, like her marriage vows; her friendship with Ron, which seemed like it was almost irreparable after suffering the battering of four years of marriage; and attitudes towards sex and love.

'Wouldn't life have been simpler if I could just have sex and not attach some great emotional substance to it,' she mused.

Hermione knew she was not the sort of person who could go about sleeping with a random wizard for a one-night stand. There had to be some sort of connection for her to allow any physical intimacy. Thoughts of Severus came right back to the forefront of her mind with that bit of introspection.

There was a stronger and more visceral connection to Severus than she had ever felt for Ron, or even Viktor. If Hermione wasn't married, especially to Ron, she would have slept with Severus weeks ago, even before the emotional connection became so cogent.

Memories of Severus making her skin ablaze from his covetous hands, and his far from chaste breath along her neck, overwhelmed her. Hermione shut her eyes, trying to fight the desire within her that threatened to break her normally calm exterior with the hysteria of a woman gone mad from sexual unfulfillment after being swallowed and repressed one too many times.

Hermione swam to the edge of the pool, and decided it was time to go sit in the steam room for a while.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Are you sure this won't permanently color my hair?” Draco asked wearily.

“Miss Brown and I spent all this week perfecting it. All tests on hair collected from the salon here at the spa seemed to indicate that it would wash out completely,” the Potions master assured him. “Besides, if it doesn't, we can just chop it off and cast a Hair-Thickening Charm.”

Draco shuddered at the thought of having his precious platinum locks shorn off due to a miscalculation in the development of a potion.

Severus was adding a bottle of “Autumn Wheat” to his own locks, praying his calculations were correct.

As both wizards stepped out of their shower cubicles with the dye applied, rinsed, and temporarily set, they regarded each other.

“You look rather nondescript with medium brown hair, Draco. You could blend easily into a crowd with that hair color.”

“And you look... different.” The younger wizard was trying to be very diplomatic. “I think it's the black eyebrows that make the whole look not quite right, Severus.” Draco scrutinized Severus one last time and shook his head, obviously keeping his comments to himself.

“I'll be back in a few hours to rinse this out, Severus. If it doesn't come out completely, you'll have to answer to Ginny. She rather likes my hair the way it is... er... was,” Draco remarked before wrapping a towel about his waist and heading off to the secret grotto.

Severus waited until Draco was gone before going to his own cubicle and getting dressed in one of the day spa uniforms that the staff wore. After looking at himself in the mirror, he did agree that his eyebrows were a rather strikingly different from his now dark ash blond hair. Grabbing the bottle, he carefully colored his brows while dreading the thought of having to grow new ones.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tying the dressing robe about her, Hermione announced to Ginny that she was ready to go with her. When no answer came back, Hermione checked Ginny's cubicle next to hers and discovered she was already gone.

'Funny, I didn't hear her leave.'

Shrugging it off, Hermione headed out to massage room number seven located at the end of the hallway in the central section of the spa.

Once inside the massage room, she found a note waiting for her on the table.

“Please disrobe and lie on the table.
Place these cucumber and tea essence infused pads on your eyes.
When you are ready, call for me and I will come in.”

The last time Hermione was at the spa, they didn't offer her this little amenity. Lying down on the table, face down, she placed the eye pads in place and felt them cling to her face with a Charm that felt very similar to the one Severus had used on her blindfold that first time.

“I'm ready,” Hermione announced in a clear voice.

With her face down on the table and her eyes closed, the prone witch heard the door open and shut.

“Ah, good, I see you found the eye pads,” a gentleman with a vaguely familiar Scottish accent said.

“Yes, thank you. That is a rather nice touch. Is that new perk that goes with the massage?” Hermione asked.

“Some of the other masseuses and masseurs use them,” he remarked, unsure if it was actually true.

Severus moved closer to Hermione and felt his heart quicken.

'This is foolish,' he thought to himself. 'Why am I doing this?'

He drew the sheet down off her shoulder to rest it across her hips, and stared at the expanse of her bare back. He studied the sight before him: the way her back tapered to her waist only to flare out of her hips in a smooth and gentle curve. Now he remembered why he was doing this.

“Can you tell me if there are any areas that are bothering you that you want me to concentrate on, or do you just want a general full body massage?” Severus asked, his voice an imitation of Minerva's brogue as he remembered it.

“Well, I spend most of my day on my feet hunched over a cauldron, so upper back and lower back mostly,” she informed him.

Severus poured some almond oil into his hands and warmed it before placing his hands on her back.

Hermione could smell the scent of almonds in the air, and was brought back to the night she gave Severus a massage while blindfolded. The feeling of large warm hands on her felt good. Especially when the masseur applied pressure and her muscles began to relax from the application of a well-placed thumb and heel of the hand along the knotted up ropes of muscles along her back.

“Oooooohhh,” Hermione groaned in appreciation.

There were Charms that could give the same end result as a massage, but there was something about the human touch that could not be replaced or faithfully duplicated.

Severus began to think that this was not such a good idea after all. It was after he had sent the house-elf on his set of errands that the wizard began to question what insanity was driving him to do the things he was doing. Granted, wizards had fallen in love for centuries before he came along, but Severus wondered if all of them were setting themselves up to be Fate's fool, as he suspected he was becoming. He wished love was a simple transaction to be bought at one's leisure, but he had been thrust into a marriage before knowing that love cannot be forced upon those who do not choose it willingly. Love happens to those who least expect it, and Severus loved Hermione, no matter how hard he had tried to stop himself from reaching that glorious destination.

Working on Hermione's Trapezius, he dug his thumbs into a particularly tense trigger point that elicited a sharp intake of breath.

“Too deep?” he asked.

“No, just tight. Sometimes you have to really work on a muscle to get it loosened up.”

There was a sense of déjà vu for both witch and wizard.

As the masseur massaged the various parts of her back, Hermione mentally listed off the muscles in that region of her body, then went on to list the bones, ligaments, and tendons. Normally, whenever she got a massage, the masseuse or masseur chatted about various things, trying to get Hermione to talk about herself. She was thankful that this masseur was quiet and allowed her to just enjoy the silence. The only sounds heard were her breathing, deep and even; and the masseur's hands rubbing the oil in his hands to warm it before applying it to her body.

'Hmmm, he's very good. He certainly knows all the spots where I ache.'

Severus exercised restraint and avoided touching Hermione is a sensuous manner. No matter how much he wanted to graze his hand lightly along her shoulder or up the back of her thigh in hopes of making her gasp with pleasure, he refrained. It seemed the more he touched her, the more he wanted her.

By the time the hour ended, Severus was ready to bolt from the room. However, it wouldn't be prudent to let his disguise be ruined by revealing himself. Severus' desire for her now bordered on obsession, and he was going to any length to satisfy it in any small way he could. He was losing sight of the objective of the whole exercise. He needed Hermione for his freedom, not fulfillment of his base physical needs.

“I recommend you go and rest for a bit before slipping into the hot springs. Give your muscles a chance to rest before applying heat,” he advised Hermione, and left the room quickly.

Stealthily entering a hidden passageway, Severus made his way unnoticed to the spot he had discovered one time while wandering around the secret passageways hidden behind the walls to and from the secret rendezvous spots of the spa. It was next to one of the many secret passage entrance points, and he hoped Ginny would not come upon him there.

Hermione felt a little disappointed, as she wanted to thank her masseur for one of the best massages she had ever had, and to ask his name. She rose and put her dressing gown back on, and headed back to her cubicle to rest as her masseur had advised her.

Reaching her cubicle, Hermione went inside and saw a flower sitting on the récamier.

Next to the single gardenia was a note. Hermione picked it up and read it.

“Lovely.”

Hermione smiled to herself. She wondered if Severus had sent the flower to her at the day spa, as she had mentioned to him that she was going. If she had her wand with her, she would have cast the spell to tell who was the author of the note was, just to be sure. As it was, she would have to wait until she got home and compare the handwriting to the letter he had sent her weeks ago under the alias of Calleo.

If Severus did send the gardenia, she wondered if maybe the flower’s second meaning also applied.

Severus had heard the movement of fabric telling him of Hermione's return. He removed the piece of mosaic tile and peered through the tiny hole. The view of Hermione's cubicle was not complete, but he did have a clear view of the couch and part of the mirror.

Watching Hermione see the gardenia and note filled Severus with anticipation. He was pleased at her reaction: the shy smile, and the way she clutched the small piece of paper to her bosom before heaving a sigh and rolling her eyes up to the heavens.

He hoped to get a glimpse of Hermione completely disrobed so that he could gaze upon her fully. What he expected least of all was for Hermione to reach for the plain brown bag and pull out a small dildo.

With her back towards the mosaic on the wall through which Severus spied her, he could catch glimpses of her face in the mirror's reflection. There was a heated bloom on her cheek that told of deep embarrassment. Hermione ducked her head out the cubicle, looking up and down the walkway to make sure no one was around, before walking over to the reclining couch.

Severus watched in awe as Hermione dropped her robe, and he was able to see her nude for the first time. The sight of Hermione's feminine form unfettered by clothes halted the breath in his chest.

Hermione was not the most beautiful, nor voluptuous, nor the most curvaceous witch he had ever seen (and he had seen many). It was the inner beauty in her that made her perfect in his eyes.

He watched, transfixed, as she reclined back and propped her feet up on the end of couch. In one hand, Hermione had the gardenia he had sent her, in the other a small red dildo. Hermione trailed the flower along her body and circled her areolas, brushing the petals along her skin before bringing it up to her nose to inhale its fragrance, and dragging it back down along her skin.

Severus swallowed hard as Hermione parted her legs and trailed the gardenia up the inside of her thigh. Since his view was restricted, he could only assume she brushed the flower along her labia, as she then stifled a sigh and arched her back.

His erection was pressing against his trousers begging for some attention after watching Hermione arouse herself. Unable to deny his own needs, Severus pulled out his cock and began to stroke himself, picking up the pace when he watched Hermione guide the dildo between her legs. All warning thoughts about Ginny possibly stumbling upon him fled from his mind. He could not see Hermione's hips or pubic region, as part of the couch blocked that area from view, but he could tell when she inserted the dildo into herself when she gasped harshly before quieting herself once more.

Hermione's body began to move in a rocking motion, and Severus missed the Charm she uttered with a whisper. There was a strangled sob that came from Hermione as the dildo began to hum quietly, and he could only guess that it was enchanted to either vibrate, slide in and out of her, or both.

His view of the mirror gave him a partial view of Hermione's face and the exquisite pleasure she felt. Her visage twisted and contorted with each arrested moan. Hermione let her head hang over the side of the couch so that Severus had a view of her face upside down in the throes of an impending orgasm.

Hermione quickened her movements, and Severus' hand matched the pace of her movements.

Severus fought with the limited view that the small hole in the wall afforded him, bobbing and weaving his head about in order to get a better look. From one particular angle he could view one breast and its puckered nipple, as she played with it with her free hand.

Watching Hermione come, her teeth biting down on her lip, eyes squinted shut, toes curled and gripping at the upholstery, and hand frantically guiding the dildo in and out of herself, Severus reached his own orgasm quickly.

Choking back a guttural grunt, he closed his eyes for only a moment as his own orgasm overtook him, and felt his essence spill down and slick his hand and pulsing cock. He continued to pump his hand up and down, wishing desperately that he could be buried within Hermione at that moment. As he opened his eyes and peered through the small hole again, he saw Hermione panting and gasping, face flushed, and eyes drowsy from her release.

Severus felt equally exhausted and suddenly disgusted with himself, but he could not tear his eyes away from the sight of a post-climatic Hermione stroking her skin with one hand and languidly rubbing her fingers between her legs with the other.

Flaccid and revolted at his own pathetic behavior, he slunk back to the men's side of the spa.

'What would Hermione think if she knew I was watching her like some peeping Tom?'

Severus took a scalding-hot shower in hopes of washing away his guilt.

'What am I doing to myself?'

He was pinning his heart's hope on a witch who was married. Hermione had not given him a straight answer yet if she would have an affair with him, but the likelihood was looking grim in his current state of mind. The witch was being noble and true to her husband when Weasley did not deserve it. Would she really be able to be unfaithful to her husband when her soul was guided by such moral character? The prospect seemed dim.

'Why am I holding out on sex?' he questioned himself. 'If Hermione's anniversary does go swimmingly, and Weasley pulls his head out of his arse and woos her back to his side, where does that leave me?'

Severus poured shampoo over his head and began washing out the temporary hair dye.

'Is love a euphoric madness that men suffer blindly, not knowing what depths they are sinking to?'

He scrubbed at his hair and scalp frantically while likening himself to the turtle that had been put into a cauldron full of cold water, and then slowly boiled to death.

'What if she mistook the flower to be from her husband and not me?'

Severus rinsed his hair and began to scrub his skin in an act of purification and self-flagellation.

'What if Hermione sees me without my mask and realizes she just could never want me like that?'

Feeling like he was stringing himself along with false promises of a pipe dream, Severus vowed not to hold himself back from satisfying his own needs until Hermione gave him a definitive answer.

After toweling his hair off, he noticed that the color washed out completely, but there was a heavy film left on his hair.

“Great,” he muttered to his own reflection in the mirror, “back to being a greasy-haired git.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pacing the length of his flat later that night, Severus felt tense beyond all reason. He glanced at the clock and noted that Miss Anne was late once more. Storming over to his wardrobe, he pulled out his cloak. An extemporaneous plan formed in his mind. He would go down to the Leaky Cauldron and travel via Floo over to the Three Broomsticks to go for an evening walk amid the familiar and tranquil Scottish countryside.

Severus needed to get out. He was willing to brave the Saturday evening crowds at the popular pubs just to escape from Diagon Alley and London.

'Why didn't I just tell Hermione who I was, get her to agree to get me the ingredients, and then wait to see if we could be attracted to one another?'

He knew why. Severus was afraid that if revealed himself too soon, Hermione would have fled, realizing all the private things she had told a former professor. And once she began showing her attraction towards him, he was willing to wait another week or so in order to enjoy her company. But now it had gotten completely out of hand. He felt like he was debasing himself entirely because of an obsession he had for Hermione.

Severus loved Hermione, but he wondered if his love was bordering on lunacy.

Just as Severus reached for the doorknob, he heard Miss Anne's knock.

“Accio mask.” Affixing it to his face, he opened the door and scowled behind his fabric-and-leather visor.

“Hello,” Miss Anne chirped. Sauntering into Severus' flat, she made no apology for her tardiness, as usual.

Just as he shut the door, Severus grabbed her upper arm in a vise-like grip. “You're late,” he growled dangerously.

There was a brief look of worry and disdain that crossed Miss Anne's face before Severus shoved her roughly onto the bed.

“Hey, easy,” she warned him.

Tossing his cloak aside, not caring if it wrinkled or not, he advanced on Miss Anne, who was lying haphazardly on the bed where he had pushed her.

Without preamble, Severus began unbuttoning his trousers and pulled himself free. He wasn't fully erect yet, but it was hard enough. Lying down on top of Miss Anne, he grabbed at her skirt, yanked it up, pulled her knickers aside, and thrust into her.

Unprepared, Miss Anne gave a small cry, partly out of surprise and partly out of the unexpected pleasure of being taken so forcefully.

Severus closed his eyes and thrust into the witch lying beneath him with the sole purpose of releasing the unbearable tension that had been building up inside of him for what seemed like weeks. He gritted his teeth, growled, and pumped his hips with a sort of savageness he didn't think himself capable of.

Miss Anne began to howl aloud, her euphoric cries ringing his Severus' ears, but he knew it was not Hermione's voice.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, the raging wizard continued pummeling himself into her. “Quiet!” he commanded her, still not pleased when she still wailed through his hand.

Not bothering to wait for Miss Anne, Severus allowed himself to come. His hips stilled, and he allowed himself the brief pleasure of emptying himself into Miss Anne.

Still dressed, with his trousers hanging half way down his thighs, he rolled off his client and onto his back, his chest rising and falling with each gasping breath. Staring at the ceiling, he felt his body relax fully for the first time in a while, but the enjoyment was only physical. Inside, Severus had never felt so hollow. The act of sex itself had provided him the release he had denied himself, but his heart still longed for Hermione.

Severus knew he was not promised to Hermione alone, and she had admitted that she could deal with the fact that he slept with other witches. Why had he been saving himself for Hermione when he could have been having sex all this time? Romantic love? It was silly, but maybe he had been caught up in the illusion of love, as well as the reality of it.

Besides, Hermione was still sleeping with her husband, so why should he not get some sort of gratification until Hermione could tell him yes or no? And if the Ministry came poking its head about and reviewing Miss Brown's books, how could he explain his ability to earn a living as a gigolo without shagging anyone?

Looking over at the witch who was lazily smiling at him like a Cheshire cat, he thought that maybe he should keep at least one shagging client on his roster until the time would come when he could decide if Hermione was the only witch he truly wanted to bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monday night sped by too fast for both Hermione and Severus. For Severus, holding a fully-dressed Hermione in his arms proved to be unbearable since he knew how her bare flesh would feel in his hands, and how her face would look like when she came. Temptation was driving him to even bolder actions.

Dipping Hermione, he would press his cloth-covered cheek against her throat, and when they tangoed, he danced as if he truly owned Hermione, evoking the sordidly passionate origins of the dance.

Hermione noticed the way Severus' hand roamed about her possessively as they moved. Had they been in public, the way they grasped and grabbed at each other could have been considered a bit too affectionate or forward.

Severus couldn't believe it, but for once he was jealous of the husband. Weasley, who obviously did not appreciate what was right before his eyes, could gaze upon her nude form, wake up to her in his bed, eat dinner with her most every night, and make love to her – which he certainly did not do very well – any time he wanted.

It was time to say goodnight, and both of them stretched out the ritual to an agonizingly slow pace. Severus offered Hermione one last cup of Turkish coffee before she left, which she gladly accepted. Hermione mentioned some articles she'd like to discuss the next time they met.

It suddenly stuck them both that Hermione would not be coming to his flat in three nights for dinner, conversation and more dancing. Next Thursday she would be at the Grand Royal Supper Club with her husband.

“Maybe I can come over next Monday...” Hermione left her sentence hanging unfinished, like some story without resolution.

“Yes, next Monday. Maybe you can come over a little earlier, and we can have dinner?” Severus asked, feeling his stomach twist with the uncertainty and anticipation.

He knew that the next time they saw each other, Hermione would give him her answer. Brushing his hand along her cheek, he saw the tears forming in her eyes. Just as they began to spill, she clutched at him desperately.

“I don't want to go,” she whispered, trying to make it not come out like a pleading sob.

That declaration alone gave Severus hope.

They stood there for the longest while, neither speaking. They knew that the next words were to be of farewells.

Hermione felt like she was being overly emotional and silly, but she didn't care. She had grown accustomed to Severus in this arrangement. She knew that giving him an answer, the next time they met, would be changing their relationship.

A melancholy mood stole over the witch, the same one that she would feel on Christmas Eve knowing that all the festivity and merriness that seemed to infuse into her soul from the season would soon be gone. After Christmas, all the decorations would be taken down, all the cheer that made everyone smile a little brighter would disappear, and the snow would seem less festive and a little colder. There would be no presents left to look forward to unwrapping.

She wondered if she would be disappointed if she said yes to Severus after unwrapping him. Hermione had wanted to be with Severus so badly, but felt duty-bound to Ron to try one last time.

Her tears continued to fall silently, and Severus could feel the warmth of them as they wet a patch on his shirt. He could have asked Hermione if she was looking forward to her anniversary, or what her dress looked like, or if Mr. Spawn had been tolerable that day, but the time for small talk had passed. It was time for her to go, but he could not release her.

This time, it was Hermione who made the first move to part. Gazing at Severus, she could almost imagine what he looked like without his mask. His personality seemed to create a mental picture of his face, replacing the ones she had of him the night before her wedding. Now she wondered how close her image of him would match reality.

“Until...”

“Next Monday.” Severus watched as her brow furrowed and the tears returned.

“I don't know why, but it seems like next Monday will take forever to get here. It's just a week,” she said, trying not to whimper from the way it felt like her heart was being torn from her. Hermione wiped at her wet eyes and cheeks.

Severus produced a handkerchief and presented it to Hermione.

She smiled and gave a little laugh. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

Hermione made a gesture to return his handkerchief, but he shook his head.

She could have mentioned that she would give Severus her answer the next time they met, but it was obvious they both knew it. There was no point in mentioning it again.

“I have to go,” Hermione said regretfully.

“I know.”

After one last embrace, Hermione turned and left, not looking back to see if Severus followed her to the door, or if his eyes watched her as she left him.

It was a few days before the moon's last quarter. And as Hermione stumbled along the narrow alleys, blinded by her tears, the moon watched from above, like some lazy silver eye unwilling to pass judgment. The moon had seen too many women leave their love unwillingly in the dark of night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It started Tuesday morning with a vial left on the kitchen counter.

“Ron? What's this?” Hermione queried, holding up a recently drained vial containing the dregs of some unknown substance.

“That? Oh, just a supplement the trainer gave me. I'm supposed to take it twice a day. Once during breakfast, the other during dinner,” Ron replied, digging into a heaping bowl of freshly cut-up fruit and a bowl of unsweetened porridge.

As Hermione cleaned up the pits and scraps Ron left on the counter, she asked, “What's in this 'supplement'?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, what is it supposed to do?” she inquired.

“It's supposed to help me gain muscle.”

“Gain muscle?”

“Yeah. Since I have a body type that tends to be on the leaner side, my trainer said I needed to take these supplements in order to help my body build more muscle,” he explained.

Hermione lifted up the vial and closely examined the couple remaining drops of fluid clinging to the side of the vial. Inhaling, she could not identify any particular ingredient. Tasting a dab from her finger, Hermione winced at the extremely bitter flavor.

“And just how is it supposed to help you gain muscle?”

“I don't know, but just look at these results so far,” he exclaimed enthusiastically. Standing up, he pulled off his shirt, and flexed his chest and arm muscles.

Hermione was stunned. Looking at her husband, he looked like he had gained half a stone of pure muscle.

“Ron...” Hermione had not noticed the transformation in her husband. She had rarely seen him undressed or shirtless during the past month, and the change in Ron's physique was startling. “Ron, how long have you been taking this potion?” she asked wearily.

“Past couple of weeks. Pretty effective, huh. Why do you want to know?”

She weighed voicing her concern over the dramatic change versus remaining silent. Ron's body certainly did look nicer and more defined, but she was alarmed at the rate in which this change was taking place. One thing Hermione knew was that for each Charm and Potion that altered the body significantly, there was usually a seldom talked about side-effect. For most growth charms, the after-effect was a body depleted of calcium and protein, resulting in weakened muscular strength and muscle cramps unless countered with a protein and calcium supplement.

Even the Polyjuice Potion had a side effect of extreme exhaustion after transforming back into one's original state. The Polyjuice Potion provided the magic for the transformation, but the body still had to undergo two metamorphisms. After Harry and Ron had returned back into their natural state after taking Polyjuice Potion on Christmas Day during their second year, the boys slept for a full thirty-six hours straight, not realizing they had missed Boxing Day entirely. Hermione decided to keep quiet and get a sample of the potion to test herself, to see if she could identify some of the ingredients.

“Just curious,” Hermione dismissed her own question easily.

Moving about the kitchen to make herself breakfast, she poked her head into cupboards and drawers looking for where Ron kept his supply of muscle-gaining supplement. When Hermione could find no vials in the kitchen, she waited until Ron had left for an early morning workout before delving into the bathroom cabinets and Ron's drawers.

“Eureka!” she pronounced upon finding Ron's stash of supplements.

It would take at least a few days to figure out what most of the components were, as reverse-engineering a Potion was much harder than brewing one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

During Hermione and Ron's Tuesday night counseling session, she noted Ron's behavior was changing like his physique. In a fit of exasperation, Ron picked up a chair and was about to throw it against the wall when he caught himself, and he put the chair back down with trembling agitation.

Her husband paced James' office with nervous energy, and the floor of their flat received the same treatment when they got home. Ron did not come to bed until long after Hermione went to sleep.

Wednesday night, Hermione found respite from Ron's presence. He was at The Listing Broom for one last dance lesson with Rogina. Hermione reflected on her own visit to The Listing Broom just a few nights prior.

After Hermione had parted from Severus in tears that Monday night, not wishing to go home until she had collected herself, she ducked into the old pub to thank Rogina for giving her husband lessons. There was one comment that Rogina had made that confused Hermione a little. The older witch had noted that she didn't think Ron needed lessons that badly; except for some guidance on how to lead, Rogina commented that he wasn't that bad of a dancer. That particular statement sat in Hermione's mind, and she worried at it like a threadbare blanket, picking at the loose threads and frayed corners.

Just as Hermione could no longer stand examining the mystery of Rogina's remark, Ron returned home.

“Hermione?” Ron called out as he walked through the door.

“Right here,” Hermione responded, as she had been sitting in the dark instead of reading a book like she normally did when Ron was at dance lessons.

“There you are,” he said huskily.

Hermione was surprised by Ron's sudden change in attitude. There was something different about him as he walked over to the couch where she sat.

Removing her legs from the couch so her husband could sit down next to her, Hermione gave a squeak of surprise when Ron hauled her up off the couch, and into his arms.

“I've been anxious to get home and see you,” he growled as he entwined his fingers into her hair.

“Ron, what's going on?” she asked nervously, stunned by his very forthright behavior.

“Since I've been on this supplement, I've been feeling randier and randier. I left lessons with Rogina a bit early so I could come home and see you,” he told her. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he murmured, “It's been too long, Hermione. I need you.” Ron tilted his hips forward and pressed his erection against Hermione's belly.

She opened her mouth to discuss the fact that his behavior over the weeks could not be easily dismissed, and a few platitudes about lust was not going to suddenly “turn her on” when he finally had the urge to have sex. But before she could speak, Ron kissed her, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

Hermione started to give a grunt of protest, but being held by strong arms and feeling Ron's desire for her straining against his trousers, she relented for the moment.

'Oh God, if I'm willing to give up the chance to tell Ron that he just can't have me at his beck and call like this, and let him do this to me, I must be in desperate need of a good shag,' she thought before she started to lose herself in the moment.

Ron moved his mouth along her cheek and down to her throat where he began nipping with his teeth.

“Ow! Too hard!” Hermione complained, feeling her skin pinched between his teeth and wondering if he had left a good set of teeth marks on her neck.

Ron growled as he gave a chuckle.

Hermione should have had the sense to know that Ron never was this sexually assertive, but at the moment she didn't care, as she had been feeling recently that if she didn't get laid soon, she would cry.

A strong hand grabbed at the fabric of Hermione's blouse and there was a slight tearing noise. “Easy! Just wait and I'll unbutton it,” Hermione said shortly, trying to enjoy the feel of Ron's mouth moving along her collarbone.

Her hands moved quickly to remove the blouse and discard it onto the floor. Before she could finish shaking the sleeves from her hands, Ron's own hands were greedily kneading and massaging her breasts, and tugging at her brassiere.

“Don't worry, love. I'll buy you a new blouse if I've torn that one,” Ron spoke against her skin. “Anyway, after what you spent on those two dresses, you owe me a good shag.”

Hermione was already kissing Ron's shoulder in hungry haste when his words finally sank into her brain. Lifting her mouth from his skin, Hermione asked, “What exactly do you mean, I ‘owe you a good shag’?”

Ron was already trying to unbutton her trousers when he said, “It was nothing.”

Removing her hands from his body, she pried herself out of his grasp, stood back, and with her hands on her hips, confronted him. “No. It was something. Just what do you mean by: ‘After what I spent on those two dresses that I owe you a good shag’?”

There was a hungry look in Ron's eyes as he regarded Hermione in her half-dressed state. “All I meant was that you spent a lot of my money on two dresses; one of which I didn't particularly care for. I think I deserve a little compensation,” he explained, becoming impatient.

He moved forward to embrace Hermione, but she backed away. “Oh, no. You think that because I spent some money... our money on a couple of dresses, the second one you commanded me to get, that I owe you a fuck? I don't think so.”

“Oh, c’mon, 'Mione. Don't be like this.” Ron moved forward quicker than Hermione anticipated, and she was snared into his embrace. “I know you need this as much as I do.” He jerked his hips forward, pressing his erection along her still-clothed mons.

Hermione began pushing Ron away, placing one hand at his shoulder and the other at his chest, trying to keep him at bay. “Don't be like what? Thinking that you're treating me like a piece of property, like... like... CHATTEL?” she yelled in disgust.

Ron grumbled and let go of Hermione. Pacing the floor in front of the couch, he yelled, “You just can't let us have just one good shag, can you!”

“A shag where you make me feel like a prostitute? Letting you extract payment for a dress that I would have gladly saved up the money myself to pay for if I knew you were going to be like this?” Hermione snorted and turned her back on Ron. “I'm sorry, but I'm not for sale.” She silently wondered if Severus ever felt this cheap and degraded.

“I should have known better. Once a lousy shag, always a lousy shag,” Ron muttered derisively with narrowed eyes. He turned and walked to the door.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked with alarm, noting that it was late.

“Out!” His response was punctuated by the slamming of the front door.

“'Lousy shag!'” she huffed. “I'll show him!”

Suddenly thoughts of sleeping with Severus just to prove that she was not a “lousy shag” came to mind. Sex for vengeance seemed very attractive at the moment.

Hermione could not wait until her anniversary dinner was over with so she could go to Severus and shag him with a good, clean conscience. Proving to not just Ron, but to herself, that she could be a fabulous fuck.

============

Thanks to robinknutsen2 for helping me come up with a few of the sexual toy names.
If you would like to see a picture of a récamier and the person who that piece of furniture was named after, please visit: http://www.artchive.com/artchive/D/david/recamier.jpg.html
A récamier is a daybed styled like a Roman reclining couch.
One last item, I did write about the stained glass water nymphs before I saw GoF in the theater.
Gardenia has two symbolic meanings: “You are lovely” and “secret love.”
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After