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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90306 -:- 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
- 52
- 53
- 54
“And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After”
Chapter Fifty-Two
“The Vapors”

Disclaimer: I saw the best fanfic writers of my generation disclaim by legalese (as do I),
```
     stating Rowling owned Harry Potter,
dragging themselves through Diagon Alley at dawn looking 
     for a lemony fix,
angelheaded fanfic!Dracos burning for the ancient heavenly
     connection to the scar-headed Harrys in the slash of night,
who Potterverse and OTPs and Deathly Hallows and Potions masters sat up casting spells 
     in the wizarding darkness with characters shagging in Prefect bathtubs floating 
     in towers of Hogwarts contemplating Wizard Wrock...
```
A/N: This disclaimer is a parody of Allen Ginsberg’s opening of Howl.

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

Hermione did all she could from audibly squealing with delight when she caught sight of the shipment of powdered bicorn horn. It was even the varietal from Russia, which Hermione thought was a superior product to the Turkish variety Severus originally recommended. There was a box of bicorn horn from China as well, which would have worked if there was a shortage like the fluxweed.

Setting the bicorn horn and some other random ingredients aside in a pile, Hermione told Trevor that they were ingredients she would test herself since they required a more practiced hand to be done correctly, but she would show him how to perform them, training him to better perform his job.

Madam Dushka had been reminding Hermione with greater frequency that her performance review was coming up, and that Mr. Spawn had better improve for her to earn a good review and possible raise. It took all of Hermione's fortitude to plaster on a believable visage of concern and fear of Madam Dushka, and not want to smugly smile knowing that better prospects were on her horizon and that her cunt boss would be no part of it. But Hermione continued on, pretending as if things were to remain status quo, and played her hand close to the vest.

She worked hard to help train Trevor to come up to snuff on the testing of ingredients, since it was in her best interest to not only try her best, satisfied by a job well done, but that once she was gone, someone competent would be in place to test ingredients. That way, The Lovely Lavender Company would not suddenly be besieged by a bout of faulty ingredients that had not been tested properly.

The testing of the bicorn horn usually took about half an hour, so knowing that Trevor always left at the chime of noon, Hermione began testing the Russian powdered bicorn horn at a quarter to twelve.

At the stroke of noon, Hermione looked out of the corner of her eye, expecting to see Trevor bolt for the door with his cloak, when she noticed him standing behind her observing how she stirred the bicorn simmering away.

“Oh, Trevor,” she said, trying to not sound guilty or surprised by his continued presence. “I thought you were heading to lunch. I didn't notice you standing there.”

It was true; she wasn't expecting him to be there.

“I'm just observing, since you said the powdered bicorn horn was a tricky ingredient to test,” he offered as an explanation for his presence.

'Bugger, now he takes his job seriously.'

“This is the Russian batch, and we still have the Chinese bicorn to test. So, how about you head off to lunch and I'll save the Chinese batch for you? That one is more tricky, as the bicorn is not as evenly ground and is more challenging,” Hermione explained, informing Trevor of the differences between the two.

“Oh! You'll let me handle the more difficult batch?”

“Well, I'll be supervising, but yes, I think you can handle it,” she added, trying to equally bolster his confidence, which had been shaky since the lab burning incident, and to coax his backside out the door. Then she could get around to creating a false report of a ruined experiment to cover the fact she was going to smuggle some regulated potions ingredients out of the Ministry.

“Thanks! I guess I'll see you after lunch then,” the young wizard shouted over his shoulder before grabbing his cloak and exiting the lab in a hurry.

Once he was gone, Hermione placed her face in her hands and gave a great sigh of relief.

Hermione noted earlier in the morning that Trevor had left a box of actual magical Mexican jumping beans, not the silly Muggle ones infested with larvae, atop a teetering pile of other ingredients that needed to be tested. The box was poorly taped and rather beaten, looking as if a troll had used it for a pillow. Normally she would have taken him to task that this would result in another batch of ingredients strewn to the four corners of the lab, similar to the walking irises incident, but now she saw it as an opportunity for her ruse.

After finishing her test of the Russian powdered bicorn horn, verifying it to be of acceptable Ministry standards, she set the cauldron aside.

Hermione then went to grab an empty box, after quickly locking the doors to the lab. Grabbing the box of Mexican jumping beans, she found a seam along the edge of the box that was close to splitting open. With just a little coaxing with the edge of her fingernail, the box split open and Hermione dumped the entire box's contents into a fresh box, placing the paperwork from the shipper inside. She then scooped up a small handful of the beans and knelt down to scatter them with force across the floor, making them skitter across the tiles to wind up under various cabinets, tables and desks. What few beans weren't under some piece of office furniture were kicked lightly with the side of Hermione's boot. To finish off the staged scene, Hermione tipped over the teetering pile of boxes the Mexican jumping beans sat atop (after making sure none of the boxes contained any glass jars), lightly crushed the beans’ original box a little to make the split seam a little larger, and placed the damaged box in proper alignment with the other fallen boxes.

Moving back to her bench, she withdrew a vial from the pocket of her robes. While securing the pilfered bicorn horn in her pocket, the witch gave a thankful sign that the amount required for the Polyjuice Potion was less than the amount she used for standard testing. It wasn't enough for two batches, but there would be a little left over in case some was accidentally spilled.

'One down, two to go,' she noted, hoping the other two “accidents” would be just as easy to stage. In order to hide the lifting of certain ingredients under the Ministry's radar, Hermione would have to botch a few other tests so that it would not be obvious that only regulated Polyjuice Potion ingredients needed retesting. As opportunities arose, the clever witch would have to ruin more experiments on purpose. Granted, she had an excellent record of not wasting ingredients with additional tests, but Trevor Spawn was providing a plethora of accidents to exploit. He had already caused a great many ingredients to be retested since beginning work at the Department of Standards and Regulations, so this would merely be a continuation of the current streak.

By the time Trevor returned from lunch, Hermione was filling out the paperwork to record her supposed botched test, as was required by the Ministry. Since Trevor began working there, she had become on expert on filling out form 42a/hgg, listing which ingredient required additional testing, how much was used, and why. The warming charm Hermione placed on the original batch added credibility to the perception that Hermione had just finished testing the Russian bicorn horn a second time.

Sounding peevish, Hermione told Trevor to pick up the boxes that he had left to fall over carelessly. She mentioned that there still might be a few more Mexican jumping beans on the floor, waving her hand off in the direction she had strewn them, without bothering to look at Trevor, as she finished filling out the form.

Knowing the less said was better, Hermione let Trevor imply on his own that the Mexican jumping beans spilling all over the floor had caused Hermione to be distracted and the batch ruined in the process. This was confirmed by Trevor, with no prompting from her, apologizing for making her test the bicorn horn a second time. Then he began setting up the testing of the Chinese batch under Hermione's supervision.

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

Pacing the room, Severus tried to stop the bile rising in his throat. His new Wednesday client was due any moment, causing the former spy to be agitated with good cause. He had used the latest reformulation of the hair coloring formula to temporarily dye his locks a rather nondescript medium golden brown, and he had picked his bauta mask to conceal his whole face.

He nearly jumped out of his skin with the knock on the door signaling his client's arrival.

Severus opened the door and welcomed Molly Weasley into his flat.

“Good evening, Madam. Please, enter,” Severus said with a Spanish Castilian accent, raising the pitch of his voice from his natural baritone to a passable tenor.

Severus hoped that by changing his hair color, the depth of his voice and affecting a slight foreign accent, Molly would never be able to place Severus as the gigolo she was seeing for a sympathetic ear.

The middle-aged witch nervously scanned her eyes about the place before walking through the threshold. With a quick glance back over her shoulder to make sure no one was spying, she entered the residence.

“Please, have a seat,” he urged, sweeping his arm towards the choice of a wingback chair or the settee.

Molly quickly shuffled over to the wingback with uncertainty and sat down, still wearing her cloak.

“Let me take your cloak.”

She rose and took off her own cloak, trying her best to avoid any physical contact with Severus when she handed it to him. He then handed the cloak off to Marf, who appeared only for an instant before disappearing again.

“Oh! You have a house-elf,” Molly remarked, her overly bright tones trying to mask her nervousness.

“Marf is under the employ of my employer. He is not mine,” Severus replied, remembering to use more hand gestures when talking, since that was a conversation mannerism of witches and wizards from Spain.

“Where are you from?” she asked, noting Severus’ accent.

“I come from Spain. Have you ever been?” he asked, hoping to keep the conversation as light and non-personal for as long as possible.

“No.” The single word reply hung in the air, adding to the awkwardness, until Molly added for further clarification, “No, but it always seemed like such an interesting place to visit. You speak very good English for a foreigner. I have a daughter-in-law who is a foreigner.”

There was additional silence that stretched. Severus was finding this to be a very difficult conversation to bear, as Molly's comments almost sounded as if she was in denial of her slight xenophobia and was over-compensating.

“Is your daughter-in-law from Spain?” he asked, knowing Fleur was French, but trying to spur Molly along.

“No, she's French, but she's still a good wife to my oldest son, Bill.”

It took considerable strength for Severus not to cringe at the way Molly thought her backhanded remark about Fleur's national origins was acceptable when qualifying it with her domestic skills.

Severus decided to interrupt this painful discourse with the offer of refreshments.

“Tea would be lovely,” Molly answered with relief.

Both members of the Order of the Phoenix needed the fortitude of a little tea to get through this night.

After tea and a little more small talk, Severus broached the subject at hand.

“I was informed you needed a sympathetic ear,” he prompted her.

That was the last thing Severus said for the next two hours, while Molly poured out every personal detail regarding how unappreciated she felt by her children, how much she wished her husband, Arthur, was more ambitious instead of wallowing away in a position that brought little chance for advancement or pay raises, and finally on to the subject of how her daughter and her youngest son's wife were denying her the happiness of grandchildren. However, she added for measure her hope that Ginny would soon be coming around to her way of thinking, since Hermione said she herself was going off potions to let nature take its course.

This last topic of the night tested Severus' ability to act as a sympathetic ear. He had heard from both Ginny and Hermione the arguments they had used – in counterpoint to Molly's nagging – about why they were not interested in getting pregnant. And Severus definitely knew, from first-hand experience, that Hermione was definitely not going off potions, and this was a ruse to stall Molly from harping on her any further regarding the subject.

Severus' only physical contact with Molly was a sympathetic pat on the top of her hand when he noted she had all run out of steam and was done railing on for the night.

“I feel so much better,” Molly sighed cheerfully as Severus called for Marf to bring Mrs. Weasley her cloak. “I can't wait until next week. Thank you.”

And before Severus could be the gentlemanly good host, Molly marched with renewed vigor over to the door and showed herself out, lightly slamming the door closed.

Gobsmacked, Severus collapsed into a wingback and asked Marf to bring a snifter of something strong to help muddle and dull some of the memories of the evening. The alcohol would never erase the memory of that torturous evening, but alcohol certainly seemed like a damn good excuse to help diminish the pain.

“She never even asked my name,” Severus noted dryly, before draining the last sip and rising to go to the bathroom. He hoped the hair coloring solution would come out with one wash, so he could finally declare this potion finished and no longer have to fiddle with it.

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

If it wasn't for the fact that Hermione was getting shagged good and proper twice a week now, she was sure she'd be in Azkaban for having performed an Unforgivable on Ron.

While Ron wasn't home, she was able to grab another sample of the potion he had been taking as part of his new exercise and fitness regime in order to build up muscle and tone, in preparation of his upcoming photo shoot spread for the 2004 Mercury Broom Company calendar. She was convinced steroids and hormones were key ingredients, since Ron had been showing increased agitation, aggression and a great deal of muscle piling on quickly.

Even the shirts he once wore that had hung loosely on his frame were now too tight. Ron had gone out to the tailor’s to get some fresh shirts made, ditching his usual t-shirts and casual wear for something a little more refined, picking up a couple pairs of tailored slacks to go with his new wardrobe. There were a few new T-shirts he’d bought to replace his old ones, but now he was dressing more like an adult instead of an overgrown adolescent.

Hermione welcomed Ron's interest in improving his grooming habits and appearance, but it also came with the side effect of a little more preening. Hermione noticed that some of her beauty lotions that she used sparingly were suddenly cleaned out.

When the exasperated witch asked Ron if he had used the last of her Lovely Lavender Maximum Moisturizer, her husband got rather short with her. He admitted he’d used it since it seemed she hadn't, and he needed it since he spent so much time out in the elements and needed to look his best for the upcoming photo shoot.

“Ron,” Hermione ground out with tried patience, trying not to set her husband off on another rage, which had become a more frequent occurrence, “it's called Maximum Moisturizer because you only have to use very little. A tiny dab goes a long way, which is why it is so effective. That jar would normally last me a whole year and you've used it up less than a week. 'Maximum Moisturizer' is not a direction to use the whole jar in one go.”

“I didn't use the whole jar, only half,” he bit back, as he plowed through the ice box looking for some quick protein to snarf down before leaving for practice.

She wanted to point out that he’d used six months of her lotion in a mere week, but decided to shut her mouth and avoid Ron busting up any more crockery. There were only so many times you can Reparo the same shattered platter or mug until the spell would no longer work. And considering how often Ron was now busting up the dishes in a sudden fit, she didn't want to add any most costs, considering she was going to have to buy a new jar of moisturizer and Ron's new tailored shirts weren't cheap.

If Ron was going to start using beauty potions, she was going to get him something cheap, and hide her good and expensive stuff from him.

“So, you still going to dance lessons Thursday nights?” Ron asked out of the blue.

“Uh, yeah.” Hermione replied, sounding a little stilted, surprised by the non sequitur. She might have mentioned she was taking “dancing lessons” on Monday night as well, but figured that the less said, the better.

“Good, you seem to like them and certainly seem like you're in a better mood the day after,” her husband noted nonchalantly.

Hermione bit the inside of her lip and turned to face out the kitchen window in order to prevent any tells from betraying her otherwise impassive face.

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

Standing over the cauldron, Hermione let her hair drape around her face, creating a curtain in which to trap the scent of Ron's potion as it slowly released volatile oils and light tendrils of fragrant steamy vapor, per Severus' instruction.

She was glad Severus had prepared that night a light meal of trout and salad, so her sense of smell would not be hindered or dulled by strong scents from dinner

“Slowly drag the spoon through the potion, and then inhale deeply once again,” her old Potions professor instructed her.

Hermione caught the scent of a new ingredient, something musky. “It's definitely something familiar,” she said to herself. “Goat. I think it's a scent gland from near the horns.”

Severus leaned his head over the cauldron to catch the vapor as Hermione moved her head aside so he could give her a second opinion.

“No, not the glands near the horn, that's just plain old goat penis,” Severus corrected her, scrunching up his nose as he recalled the scent.

On a piece of parchment, Mrs. Weasley wrote down “goat penis” at the bottom of an ever growing list of ingredients. Hermione had brought a small cauldron and various utensils from home with her so that Severus could truthfully answer, during future interrogations, that none of his kitchen items had been used for any Potions, even for the reverse engineering of one.

Glancing in the slowly simmering cauldron, Hermione noted that the potion had nearly evaporated and inhaled one last time. Severus breathed in and out one last time, and confirmed Hermione's opinion that the goat penis was the last ingredient.

As Hermione reviewed the list she’d compiled, Severus sidled up behind her and glanced at the parchment. They had put off making love until after the lesson was completed, as Severus had informed Hermione that sex can alter one's abilities to smell certain scents correctly.

“No wonder he has the temperament of a bull lately,” Hermione said more to herself than for Severus' benefit. She knew this potion was a temporary thing, until the photo shoot was over, but she didn't know how much longer Ron would be taking it, nor when in November the shoot was scheduled.

“The scent of this potion is having an effect on me,” Severus murmured into her hair, noting the potion through inhalation was affecting him as well.

With a small gasp of surprise, Hermione felt Severus position himself right behind her, pressing his erection firmly into her backside. She could feel a slight twitching of his cock, the pulsing matching the beat of Severus' heart, which she could feel through his chest on her back.

“Tell me what symptoms you feel,” she asked, feeling aroused by her lover's sudden amorous attentions, but also disconcerted as Severus merely inhaled the fumes of this potion, whereas her own husband has been taking two vials of this stuff daily.

Strong hands possessively grabbing her hips moved up to latch on to her breasts with much more force than Severus had ever shown before. “That if I don't fuck you until you split in two, I'll go mad and tear this room apart,” he growled into her ear, his voice thick with impatient tension.

Before Hermione could continue her line of questioning, Hermione felt Severus roughly grab the hem of her skirt and yank it up forcefully, followed by the shoving of her knickers barely down her thighs with one hand and his other hand undoing his trousers.

As she was about to suggest they move to the bedroom, Severus' arm swept across the table, clearing it of the cauldron and Potions equipment. He placed a firm hand on the back of Hermione's neck, guiding her face down onto the table. With one quick thrust, Severus entered Hermione without preamble and began to fuck her with bestial abandon.

Severus roared aloud as he sunk his nearly painful erection into Hermione’s core. Hermione gave a yelp, a mixture of pleasure and surprise. If she wasn't already somewhat aroused and slightly slick with anticipation, Severus’ rough penetration would have been painful. Grabbing her hips once more, his fingers digging into her flesh, Severus began to grunt with each fervent thrust.

Hermione clutched to the edges of the table to hold herself in place as Severus' movements were tossing her about as if a toy. She arched her back to allow deeper penetration, which spurred Severus to tuck his hips under and begin hammering her with jackrabbit-like speed. Before Hermione could climax, Severus screamed hoarsely, adding in the odd swear word as he orgasmed. The stunned witch felt Severus' body give a sudden shudder before his knees gave out and he collapsed on the floor, his trousers tangled about his knees and his shirt tails hitched up around his midsection as he lay on his back.

Gasping great gulps of air, Severus breathlessly croaked out, “I am so sorry.” He paused, panting a few more times before continuing, “I should have known the vapors would affect me in such a way.”

Hermione, who was finishing smoothing down her skirt and blouse, eyed Severus with astonishment.

“Wow,” she said.

Severus cracked an eye open and could not decipher the wide-eyed look on his lover, whom he’d taken so roughly. “Wow, as in...”

“Wow, as in if the vapors alone did this to you, no wonder Ron howled like a beast with Zabini. No wonder he flies into a rage at the slightest provocation,” she explained, continuing, “ And 'Wow,' as in that was incredibly wild and I never thought I'd ever see you lose control like that, and that was pretty incredible and yet almost a little scary had I not trusted you like I do, and 'Wow,' as in I'm glad I was a little ready for you to begin with or else dry penetration like that would have been extremely painful.”

Severus winced, shamed his own knowledge as a Potions master did not foresee such a quick and visceral response to the potion's vapors. “May I see the list?” the worn-out wizard asked as he slowly tried to raise himself from the floor and pull up his trousers.

Hermione fetched it from the corner of the kitchen, as it had been flung from the table in Severus' moment of blind lust.

Scanning over the list, he noted that some of the ingredients were the same as the male enhancement potion he was now testing with Hermione, but many of the other ingredients dealt strictly with muscle development, testosterone production, and reduction of fat.

Now sitting in a chair, Severus gave a pained sigh while hanging his head, forehead resting against his hand. “I should have had something to counter the effects on hand. Damn, I hate these restrictions. If only I had my Potions lab, I would have had something to negate the effects and not do what I did,” he lamented, waving his other hand at the mess caused by his momentary lapse of reason. “As a Potions master, you're supposed to have safety protocols in place so that you do not become a victim of your own Potions work.” He glanced at Hermione from between his fingers and a hank of hair that had fallen across his face, looking a bit ashamed of himself.

Hermione walked over to Severus and moved his arm to sit herself in his lap, lacing her hands around his neck, after tipping his chin up to meet her square in the eye. “One, I've learned something new today. And two, of all the Potions to fall victim to, this one was at least pleasurable.”

“I didn't even let you orgasm before I selfishly satisfied myself,” he retorted bitterly.

“Well, you can always make it up to me tonight,” the young Potions apprentice retorted. “Besides,” she added, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I wouldn't mind you under a less potent version of that potion's vapors.” Nuzzling her nose along Severus' neck, she whispered, making sure her warm breath grazed his ear, “I hope you aren't averse to fulfilling a little fantasy of mine.”

Severus' eyes rolled up in his head before he closed them, relishing in the way he was being seduced and the idea he would be part of Hermione's fantasy.

“Me, restrained. Tied down... or chained up... A dose of that lubrication potion coursing through me, making me so...” Hermione sighed, licking the curve of Severus' ear. “Very...” she continued, her hand raking across Severus scalp, noting his increased rapid breaths. “Wet... Unable to escape. Yours to do anything...” she paused for dramatic effect as she grazed her nose along his cheek. “Anything you want.”

Severus grasped Hermione's face and kissed her forcefully, but not so much as the same force he used earlier. He held back enough to signal that he was in control of his faculties, as opposed to earlier. He had tied down many a witch, but the fact he was being so deliciously enticed to fulfill this request made it all the more arousing.

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

Arriving home, feeling thoroughly relaxed after several orgasms, and smiling with the knowledge that Severus was going to fulfill her little fantasy sometime in the future, Hermione strode through the door of her flat, ready to take a quick shower and go to bed.

She didn't notice the tall figure in the kitchen who slipped from shadow and followed her into the bathroom.

Lost in recalling Severus' analysis of the potion Ron was taking, Hermione thought about how the inhalation of fumes resulted in a different reaction than imbibing. The Potions master gave some detailed analysis about how olfactory and digestive systems absorption differed, and discussed with her the properties of the solids that they scraped from the bottom of the cauldron during their post analysis.

'So Ron will have a raised libido, but the solids from some ingredients temper the sexual arousal part of the potion. Makes sense, not to have a bunch of hormonally uncontrollable wizards running about on this potion,' she surmised just as she noticed the sound of the shower door opening.

Her husband was naked, entering the shower with a similar glint in his eye that Severus had in his eye before his uncontrolled bout of urges overtook him.

“It's been too long, 'Mione,” Ron growled.

Hermione noticed then his voice had become a little lower in pitch over the past few weeks, a sign of increased testosterone levels.

'Between us, not long enough.' She turned her head back, keeping her back to him.

The air was thick with tension as Hermione waited for Ron's next move while she continued to pretend to ignore him. Ron slowly slid up next to his wife. He pressed his erection against her hip and slid a possessive hand across her belly before gliding it down lower until his hand was cupping her mons.

With a single finger, he started to slide his digit back and forth, stroking her clit.

Hermione silently damned the prolonged effects of the natural lubrication potion she was still under. She didn't want Ron touching her, but considering how long it had been and how normally she'd be crawling out of her skin by now without a fuck by her husband for weeks, she figured she better get around to shagging her husband or else arouse suspicion by turning him down.

“I can tell you want me,” he hissed, his fingers stroking her between her folds in a way he had never touched her before.

Hermione hated the fact that the way he was touching her right now felt pretty good. Coupled with the fact she had been fucking her brains out earlier in the night, her body was already aroused and took little to bring it back up to its heightened state once more.

'Aw, fuck it all, he is my husband. Maybe this time I can finish before him.'

Hermione didn't fight off Ron's hungry attentions and even arched her back in invitation to join with her, dissembling her own indifferent emotions.

“Not so fast,” Ron laughed throatily in reply to his wife's nonverbal signal. “You want to orgasm first, well then...”

He began stroking Hermione's clit with longer strokes, his other hand entering her and searching for that elusive spot, making her spread her legs wider. Ron's long finger eventually found it, making Hermione hitch her breath; she was surprised he actually knew what he was looking for, as the pressure and speed of his fingers on her clitoris increased.

Unbidden, Hermione began to whimper, lost in the feeling of an impending orgasm. She did her best to imagine it was Severus finger-fucking her in the shower. Pitching forward in the shower, Hermione braced her hands on the wall and rode out her orgasm, letting Ron hear her scream to verify completion. Before she could finish coming down off her orgasm, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up, while spinning her around, quickly hitching her leg up over his arm and then driving himself into Hermione.

She braced her back against the cool tiles, as Ron grunted and howled as he fucked his wife. Hermione was surreally reminded of the night's earlier events, distracted by the strong sense of déjà vu; the same animalistic loss of control, the brutish grunting, the feral look in the eye. Severus did warn her that her husband would have an enhanced libido, as a side effect of the potion, and Ron did show a bit more restraint than Severus did, though not by much. At least Ron's hands didn't leave bruises on her hips like Severus' did, which Hermione had made sure to spell away before dressing to come home that night.

Hermione allowed herself one more orgasm, as she just ignored her reservations and revulsion about her husband and let herself enjoy the moment. It was a pity, she thought, that it had taken this long for Ron to finally give her an orgasm that she would have been rapturously grateful for three months prior. Now she was glad at least Ron's efforts weren't a complete waste of her time, this time.

Plastering a believable smile upon her face, she beamed up at her husband while breathlessly exhaling, “That was fantastic.” If anything, a little praise may soothe the savage beast.

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

A/N: I know, Hermione fucking Ron. But she doesn't want to arouse suspicion, like Ginny did with Harry by changing her behavior patterns.
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After