Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 131978 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N: Sorry for the week long wait. But this chapter is a little extra long to make up for it. We get a little backside exploration so if that's not your ticket, you can skip the end of this chapter. Onward we go with new things to test and crazy new situations to find ourselves in! Thanks again for the support and continued reviews!

Side-along apparation was no better than regular apparation. The feeling of being forced through a tight rubber tube still lingered with her as she steadied herself on the street’s pavement of Spinner’s End. Hermione had been apparating successfully for what felt like ages though for as disoriented as she felt she wasn’t entirely convinced that she hadn’t splinched herself. Severus was already striding toward the door of his home, and she was quick to follow, not wishing to be left out in the street in her current condition.

                The excessive fur had made it nearly impossible to properly wear her knickers so she’d foregone them entirely. And refusing to struggle with her jeans she’d transfigured them into a denim skirt. But she felt exposed; Hermione had never dared wear a skirt in her life without panties underneath. Once inside his home she followed him into the kitchen; the counter seeming to tease her simply by its existence. Glaring at her, as if a counter were capable of such a thing; the inanimate mockery of knowing that she’d been pleasured to within an inch of release up on its surface. She averted her eyes and watched as he swept into what she presumed was the pantry, surprised to see that it was not in fact a pantry but a descending staircase that led to some sort of cellar.

                Again she was quick to follow, though she was careful on the stairs, as they were particularly steep. What she saw amazed her. A laboratory, though she should have expected as much given his past; pristinely sterile and meticulously organized. Shelves lined one wall from floor to ceiling and every potions ingredient imaginable was bottled, jarred, pickled, or stored in its proper place. The long wooden work benches were similar to those she had seen in the Potions’ Classroom at Hogwarts and in one corner there was a strange sort of rack that held various types of cauldrons. It was an impressive sight; his own personal laboratory.

                “Do you intend to stand at the foot of the staircase simply gaping, Miss Granger?” His voice, as smooth and annoyed as ever, startled her and she nodded her head moving with haste over to where he now stood in front of the shelves filled with ingredients. Fred had given her a copy of what was scribbled in the ledger, refusing to let the precious book out of his sight, which she now pulled out of the awkwardly shaped pocket of her transfigured skirt. Handing it to him she tried not to look nervous. It would be simple enough, she imagined, he was a master at brewing, and to be quite honest if Fred had concocted it with the results they’d already experienced, then she knew she’d be fine. But what on earth was she meant to do while he brewed? Standing in awestruck silence seemed even more awkward than the situation she currently found herself in, and she doubted very much that anything could be more awkward than having one’s genitals and backside covered in fur.

                Hermione was determined not to be timid, though after a long mental debate she decided that silence and cowardice did not equate. And in this instance remaining quiet was most likely best. She would watch him work, unless he instructed her to do otherwise and that was that. He would brew the magical depilatory concoction that Fred had crafted for his novelty line of adult products, she would do her very best to not enlist his help in the use of said concoction, and then she would take her leave. Though this too plagued her mind, it had been quite late when they’d left Diagon Alley, and although the apparation to Spinner’s End hadn’t taken long, she had no idea how long the potion would take to brew. This set her mind burning with panic. Surely he wouldn’t have insisted she follow him back to his home if he knew the potion would take half the night?

                She tried to calm her frantic mind, though the question of where she would sleep that night still nagged her. It would be unseemly to arrive at The Burrow even if she apparated then and there, knowing that it was well past midnight. And she didn’t want to disturb Harry and Ginny, though in all likelihood they were up with one of their children anyhow. But showing up at the Potter residence completely sober halfway through the night would lead to a lot of questions she knew she wasn’t prepared to answer. She had been at Percy’s flat the two nights previous and didn’t want to trouble him for a third night in a row, and realized that she was otherwise out of options. Settling in her mind that at that hour she would simply have to apparate to a beach in a time zone with daylight so she could rest in public without being chased off by beach patrol, she had not heard him calling her name.

                “Miss Granger,” he said for the third time, his voice pinched and bordering on annoyed. “I do understand that it is late but surely you cannot be so exhausted that you’ve drifted off to sleep with your eyes open while standing up.”

                Hermione’s cheeks flushed a bright red. “Sorry,” she murmured and then gazed up at him, trying not to look as embarrassed as she felt.

                “The potion needs to simmer for an hour,” he stated, again his voice sounding pinched as if he’d already spoken as much. And given the fact that she’d drifted deeply into her own mind, there was a good chance that he had.

                “Oh,” she said. She had known that naturally it would need time to simmer, though she hadn’t counted on it being a full hour. Hermione was grateful, however, in that moment that it was only an hour. It could have been a lot worse. But judging by the continued glare and his reticent silence she was going to be expected to occupy herself for said hour. “Erm, should I…” she trailed off. There was no good ending to that posed question.

                Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Do what you like, Miss Granger, I’m not about to play babysitter for the next hour, Merlin knows seven years of that was enough.”

                “Technically it was only six,” she said, unable to help herself before it came out. Hermione waited for the verbal lashing but it didn’t come. Relieved and a bit surprised she stood there, nervously chewing on the bottom of her lip. Surely he didn’t expect her to go wander about at this hour. And she had mentioned previously that she was not currently in possession of a residence of her own. Perhaps he meant for her to go back upstairs, though she was not overly fond of the idea. Wandering up through his house alone did not bode well with her, though given the alternative of remaining in awkward silence in the laboratory as he stood watching the potion, she wasn’t sure which was worse.

                Hermione tried not to look anxious. But he had not taken his eyes off her. “Did you want something?” she asked.

                “Do you intend to stand there staring for the hour this needs to simmer?”

                She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not really sure what else you expect me to do, Severus.” Using his given name gave her a spark of confidence, though she wasn’t sure to what end. For all the good it did her she could have just as well called him professor.

                “I don’t personally care what you do, Miss Granger, but surely you can find something better with which to occupy the next hour other than standing here staring.”

                “You should call me Hermione,” she said, still chewing on her lower lip, her words muffling a bit. “It just sounds peculiar…makes me feel rather…” she shrugged her shoulders, trying not to blush. She didn’t dare say childish aloud, not wishing to agitate him further or earn herself a verbal berating.

                Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is a professional courtesy, Miss Granger,” he said, holding up his other hand to silence any protests that she might start in with. “It would be impolite to be so familiar, we are colleagues,” he added. “You may address me in the manner that best suits you but I shall continue addressing you as I have been.”

                She certainly hadn’t expected his explanation, plain and almost polite as it was. Colleagues. That was one way of looking at it; though she supposed it was no different for witches and wizards that worked in the pornographic industry. She wondered if they went around addressing each other by their surnames as well for the sake of professional courtesy. The notion was laughable at best, but she wasn’t about to challenge him again. She’d mentioned it when they’d been in George’s flat and he’d remained stoically silent on the matter, at least this time he’d given her a reason, though it sounded a bit more like an excuse. Perhaps he had trouble seeing her as something other than a student; it was certainly how she felt whenever he addressed her as Miss Granger, as the only people who still referred to her as such were former professors.

                Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other, still standing a few feet away from where he was intently watching the cauldron simmer. She tried not to think about the fur that was covering her lower half. But trying not to think about it only made her think about it more. “Do you think he’ll try to adjust the formula of that product? I’m not particularly keen to try it again,” she said, a hesitancy present in her voice.

                At first she was certain he was ignoring her as he said nothing. But after a few moments of silence, he spoke. “We were hired as test subjects, Miss Granger. Not but a few nights ago you were petrified that refusing to test a product due to your lack of experience was going to earn you the sack.”

                “I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I suppose now that you mention it, I don’t have much of a choice,” she muttered.

                “Indeed.”

                Hermione’s lips were poised to speak but she swallowed back the comment that was on her lips and posed him a second question. “Do you reckon you would try it?”

                Again there was silence, but after a moment his voice found its way to her ear. “If it is requested of me, but I don’t see any particular reason to volunteer. He is attempting to market them as a novelty fashion line for the female customer, and I am not a female.”

                “The clouds seemed to suit you well enough.” She watched his figure carefully, looking for any signs of bristling or indignation. It had seemed a sore point during their testing when she’d covered him with the chilly spray clouds, watching the way he’d tensed and had begun to lose control. She tried not to dwell on it in her mind, not wishing to become aroused while in her current furry state. His lack of retort continued to surprise her though she supposed it was best to be grateful for small favors.

                But the silence unnerved her. It wasn’t because she couldn’t stand silence in general, it was because he was there, at least now he was gazing down at the cauldron instead of directly at her. Hermione imagined that only a few moments had passed and if it had taken that long for just a few minutes surely the remainder of the hour would be brutal agony. Taking a cautious step toward where was brewing she gazed over the edge of the cauldron, noting that the liquid seemed to sparkle just slightly. “I didn’t think to ask George for the applicator brush, do you think it will be safe to apply as is?”

                His eyes did not lift from the cauldron. “There is a refining comb on the supply shelf that I use for preening unicorn tails and things of the like, it should do in this case.”

                Hermione turned her head and gazed at the shelf before walking over toward it. The comb, not unlike the little plastic comb from George’s workshop, was made of a simple plastic and didn’t look out of the ordinary. She brought it back over to the table and placed it down on the edge. Her face was already flushing at the prospect of having to ask for his assistance and she hadn’t even vocalized the thought.

                “What is it now, Miss Granger?” he asked sighing with that blatant tone of annoyance present in his voice.

                How did he keep doing that? Was she really that readable? Hermione bit her lower lip and tried not to sigh. “It’s just that…given the location of this mishap I don’t know if I’ll be able to…” her voice trailed off, the sting of her blush more than furious in her cheeks. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to reach everything sufficiently.”

                “Pity,” he said and then lifted his gaze from the cauldron and met her eyes.

                If she hadn’t been blushing before she was certainly scarlet now. She hadn’t wanted to have to ask him straight out, but it appeared she was going to be left with little choice in the matter. “I’m asking for assistance,” she muttered.

                Severus rolled his eyes. “As if I have any other choice in the matter.”

                A long silence ensured, Hermione constantly fidgeting while he continued to watch the potion as if watching it would make the time pass faster. It was driving her mad and after what she was sure was a lifetime, she posed him another question. “Did the chill from the clouds bother you?”

                His quick response caught her off guard. “If it had been bothersome, I would have reported as much to Mr. Weasley.”

                She quirked her lips to the side, pondering his response before formulating her own in the form of another question. “It was pleasurable then?”

                This time the silence she had expected met her ear. He had certainly responded to the clouds, both when he’d been asked to fuck her through them and again when she’d sprayed him with them. It had been fascinating; watching the cracks in his resolve spread across him in miniscule ripples of what she had hoped was pleasure. And the fact that he had denied being discomforted only confirmed her suspicions. His voice was lower than before, though not harsh as she had expected. “I suppose one might call it that.”

                It blew her mind just to hear him say it, even if it was a half-hearted admission. Hermione’s mind was working overtime, cranking and processing his exact inflection and intonation before allowing herself to make any further statements or ask any more questions. It was rare that he divulged information and she had been lucky enough to catch him in an obliging mood. She had learned, from her experience in the flat while waiting for George to return, that if he so chose he could be dismally uncooperative and stoically silent. And she was learning to be careful about how she phrased her questions; specifying exactly what she wanted to know and exactly what she was asking of him so as not to end herself in the predicament she found herself in a few nights prior. He was a tricky man but she was slowly learning the rules to the game of interacting with him.

                “I noticed you…” she trailed off, searching for the right word. “That you tensed when I covered your backside with the cloud spray.” Hermione was certain that she was pushing it too far and that her last statement would result in a berating or utter silence. So she was shocked once more when after a brief pause he spoke.

                “I imagine, Miss Granger, that you would have done the same if a rather unexpected intrusion of breezy chilled air were assaulting your…backside.” He was deliberate in his reiteration of her word, but kept his eyes from hers. “A natural response,” he added.

                Hermione frowned at this. She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say but what he had said wasn’t it. Her frown creased her forehead, brow furrowed deep in perplexed thought, so much so that it caused him to sigh. She looked up at him with curiosity in her eyes, his own eyes meeting hers for a moment, an unspoken if not completely understood thing passing between them.

                “If you were expecting me to lament about trauma received to my person in that area of my body thanks to time spent in the Dark Lord’s service, or expected me to quip about with some homophobic rant, then I suspect you have momentarily forgotten to whom you are speaking, Miss Granger,” he said. His words were pointed but not sharp, exact but not biting. And then his eyes returned to the cauldron as if what he had said was the end of the matter and that was that.

                “No, I don’t expect that I was expecting you to go on about all that,” she said with a slight shrug. Though to be honest she didn’t have the slightest clue as to what she was expecting other than more silence. It had merely been an observation, one that she had reveled in for the moment she’d witnessed it. Him having that momentary lapse in control; the crack in his stone demeanor that revealed a fallible human with bodily urges inside. “I just, it was really just an observation.”

                “Thank Merlin,” he muttered.

                “For my observation?”

                “That this is done,” he said and with a wave of his hand doused the flame from beneath the cauldron.

                Had it really been an hour? She supposed that with all of the long awkward pauses in their pseudo conversation that 60 minutes could have passed. A wave of relief swept through her when she realized that the potion was finished and in just a few moments she would once again be her normal self, no longer covered with fur. And then a wave of dread swept through her as she quickly realized she would once more be naked, at least from the waist down, in front of him as he assisted her in her task of applying the potion. Hermione shuddered and then bowed her head slightly, closing her eyes to try and keep her face looking neutral.

                She hadn’t seen him draw out the stool from beneath the laboratory table nor had she seen him pull forth a small step ladder and place it just in front of the stool. “Stand up here and take your— whatever that is…” he said his lips twisting into a slight sneer. He knew it full well to be a skirt even if her transfiguration had been a little sloppy. “Take it off so we can get this over with.”

                Hermione felt the blood thrumming hard against her temples. From the sound of it he intended to just administer the potion himself, which was only slightly more mortifying than the prospect of him watching her attempt to do it and then have to step in and assist where she couldn’t reach properly. She exhaled her hands trembling as she fiddled with the makeshift skirt and then stepped out of it. The patch of pale creamy skin that had been de-furred stood out in bold contrast against the rest of her, which was still covered in thick black fur. She knew that the fur covered her ass fully and everything between her legs, bits of her thighs and a bit above her mound nearly halfway up to her naval. Biting her lower lip, Hermione stepped up on the little ladder, realizing as she stood that it brought her crotch level with his shoulders as he perched atop the stool.

                Reaching one slender arm over the table, Severus picked up the comb and dipped it into the cauldron, making sure to coat the surface thoroughly before drawing it near her midriff. “Be sure to note any stinging, more so than when you first used this product, extreme tingling, numbness or other discomfort.” He said his voice once again instructional and clinical. Broad strokes brought the potion-coated comb down through the fur on her lower abdomen, right down to the patch of clear smooth skin.

                Already she could feel the tingling and little heated sensations as she had felt during the first time she’d had the depilatory applied to her. Gazing down the length of her torso she noted the swath of freshly smoothed skin in the comb’s wake and tried not to smile too much. After he cleared the front of her stomach and began to work on her thighs, Hermione kept her gaze up toward the ceiling, finding it easier to concentrate if she wasn’t looking at his delicate fingers working so close to her womanhood. She tried to think unsavory things, like the way exploding stink bombs always left a goopy green trail on the surface where they exploded.

                But thinking such thoughts only helped so much before she felt his hands firmly gripping her furless hips. “Turn around,” he said, guiding her as she turned to face away from him, presenting her backside to his face. It didn’t take nearly as long as she had expected, his methodical pattern for clearing the comb through her fur making short work of the project. When she heard him place the comb down on the table she breathed a sigh of relief, but gasped loudly when she felt both of his palms squeezing the supple cheeks of her bum. “Smooth,” he said and trailed his fingers down the globes of her arse and then down between her legs, fingers parting her folds as he moved his hands upward, brushing teasingly for the briefest of moments over her clit. His fingers continued their ascent upward over her mound before he pulled his hands back entirely from her. “It would seem you are as you were before, Miss Granger.”

                Her heart was racing. Such an intimate touch; the way his hands just glided along her sex, the way his fingers so easily parted her folds; her whole body felt as if it had been set on fire. She was quick to step down and shimmy the skirt back up around her waist, not wanting to spend another second being exposed in his presence. “Thank you,” she mumbled, fastening the garment in place and then stepping back a bit further from him. She noted that he’d banished the cauldron and the plastic comb from sight, and he was currently tucking both the stool and the step ladder back under the work table. When Severus moved toward the staircase she was quick to follow but kept her distance a few steps back as they made their way up into his small kitchen.

                “See yourself out, Miss Granger,” he said pushing the door to the laboratory closed after she had crossed over the threshold.

                Hermione stole a glance at the timepiece near the window and felt her heart sink. It was nearly three in the morning and she was dreadfully tired. She didn’t fancy having a lie on a beach regardless of where she would have to apparate to in order to find daylight. And her body was so weary that she was convinced in her attempt to apparate she would splinch herself. It was far too late to call upon anyone for a bed and she loathed the notion of sleeping in the darkened forest at the far end of Spinner’s End. Her inner turmoil must have spread clearly upon her face, if the annoyed sigh that Severus gave was any indication.

                “Miss Granger—”

                “I just—”

                His raised hand silenced her and she swallowed hard. “I know exactly what you intend to say, if you were going to make it easier on either of us you would have just said so when you got here this evening, but I’ll save us both the trouble,” he grumbled. “I have neither spare room nor bed for you at this present time, though you seem to be leaving me little choice in the matter.” With an irritated glance he stalked passed her and into the barely furnished sitting room. A flick of his wrist produced his wand and after a moment he transfigured the lone chair that faced the empty fireplace into a passable couch. Without another word he nodded at her, pointed to the newly transfigured furniture, and then stalked toward the little hallway on the side, disappearing down it. The resounding slam of what she presumed to be his bedroom door made her jump.

                With a heavy sigh, Hermione plucked her miniscule purse from the pocket of her jumper and then restored it to its proper size. Heavily enchanted to carry just about anything she could imagine, she peaked inside and after a few moments pulled out a pillow, a sheet, and a blanket. Not bothering to put on knickers or take off her bra, she settled down into the lumpy couch with her blanket and sheet atop her and her pillow beneath her head. A flick of her wand lit a low fire in the hearth and she cast a containment spell over it to keep it from burning his house down while she slept. Exhaustion kept her from feeling awkward and slightly frightened, and before she knew it her eyes were closed and she was asleep on Severus Snape’s couch.

~*~

                It was the slight pulsating urge in her bladder that woke her. At first when she opened her eyes she was groggy, and slightly disoriented. The throbbing pain in her neck drew her attention to the fact that she was squished awkwardly on a very lumpy couch. Hermione frowned and yawned, trying to stretch her arms up over her head as the details of the previous night trickled into her mind. One hand slid up beneath her skirt, patting her skin with a soft sigh of relief as she felt only flesh against her fingertips. He had been successful in the removal of all that fur. Her eyes widened slightly as the full gravity of having stayed at Severus Snape’s house set in. Bolting up from the sofa she made herself dizzy and had to hold her head for a moment to keep from toppling back down.

                The fire had long since snuffed itself out and Hermione glanced around the room half expecting Severus to be standing somewhere along the line of empty bookshelves with his arms crossed over his chest glaring at her. But he was nowhere to be seen. And the more pressing matter of her full bladder came back into focus. Creeping on her tiptoes across the old wooden floorboards of his sitting room Hermione ventured down the tiny hallway. Two doors; side by side, the first one being shut tight and the second one ajar just a sliver. As she passed the first door she paused, ever so carefully pressing her ear against the wood. Much to her surprise the soft sound of snoring echoed from within and she had to press her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.

                Severus Snape was snoring. A very human thing indeed, which made the situation that much stranger. It was a delicate sound; a bit like an overgrown cat purring or perhaps grumbling. She dared not to think on it any longer without fear of bursting into full fits of guffaws and loud laughter. Tiptoeing past his door she pushed the second door inward and sighed in relief. The bathroom, which was flooded with a dim yellow light the moment she flipped up the light switch, seemed equally as bare as the rest of the house. The loo was in the far corner, a sink just beside it. A tiny square mirror rested just above the sink, flat against the wall. And off to the left side was a large shower curtain drawn around what she presumed was the shower.

                After relieving herself, Hermione washed her hands and gazed into the mirror. She looked like hell and her neck was stiff. The couch had been less than comfortable even with her pillow but there wasn’t much room for complaint as he had been gracious enough to allow her to stay. Her mind wandered for a moment, having rightly no idea what time it was. She closed her eyes, concentrating hard on the image of her purse back on the makeshift couch; drawing up the picture of the time piece she kept inside it. Wordless magic had never been her forte but she had managed with it from time to time. Basic spells, like the one she was attempting now, was as far as she really gotten when it came to staying silent. But with just a bit more focus the time piece was soon hovering in front of her eyes and she smiled. Her smile quickly shifted to a frown as she noted that it was nearly a quarter till one in the afternoon.

                Banishing the time piece back to her bag she sighed and then glanced nervously around the little bathroom. Not one single towel in sight other than the small hand cloth which she’d used to dry her hands. A drying charm would have to do. Hermione crept over to the bathroom door and pushed it shut, only to discover that the latch was broken and the door drifted inward a sliver. She paid it no mind as she turned back to the enormous shower curtain and slowly drew it back, surprised to see a large bathtub resting behind it. She had expected a shower, but this was heaven. An actual bathtub, though she noted there was a showerhead affixed to the wall just above it, with deep sloping walls and a drain plug and everything.

                Her excitement got the better of her and she didn’t even care that there wouldn’t be bubbles. To soak in an actual bathtub sounded brilliant. When she’d had her flat there had only been a shower, far too small for a proper bath even if she had transfigured the walls a bit and plugged up the drain. She had never dared to take a bath at The Burrow; for fear that Molly would find out that she had lost her flat. Hermione closed her eyes and grinned, the last time she’d had the pleasure of taking an actual bath had probably been sixth year when she’d taken one in the Prefect’s Bathroom. In retrospect she wished she had used that bathroom a lot more.

                A little notched shelf was carved into the wall on which the bathtub rested and she noted the lone bar of soap that rested there. She supposed if she’d ever thought on Severus Snape’s bathing habits she shouldn’t have been surprised. But it didn’t matter, bubbles or no, she was having a bath. Her hands trembled as she fiddled with the tap, getting the temperature pleasantly hot with little tendrils of steam rising up from the faucet. For a moment she was afraid that the sound of the gushing water now filling the deep tub would wake him, and perhaps even spark him to berate her for doing more in his house than she had been bid welcome to do, but the temptation of a bath was overwhelming and she decided she’d deal with that if it woke him.

                It only took a moment to shed her skirt, jumper, and bar. She folded them neatly into a tiny pile and tucked them up under the tub near the backside away from the door. Slipping into the heated water she eased her weary body down the sloping wall until she was submerged completely up to her neck. She didn’t even care that she didn’t have a bath pillow, the water felt so good. Hermione was startled when the shower curtain slowly began to close around the bathtub, but quickly realized it was some sort of privacy enchantment. The heat of the water felt delicious against her skin; seeping into her bones and easing all of the aches, particularly the one in her neck. For a moment she was in heaven. All her thoughts of being a vagrant with no proper home drifted away from her, even the ridiculous job she’d taken as a sex-toy tester seemed to slip away from her as she closed her eyes and relaxed into the bath.

                She didn’t keep her eyes closed for long; too afraid she would fall asleep in the bath. Hermione gazed at the back of the shower curtain, which was rather plain. With her eyes half lidded she let her thoughts wander. Despite being black listed by the Ministry and its subsidiaries, which basically included every available legitimate position anywhere within wizarding London, she was convinced she would find something. Had she not stumbled across George’s advertisement she may have been working in muggle London in a café. Which she wasn’t sure would have done her any good, a café girl wouldn’t be able to rent a muggle flat even with a good confundus charm. There were things that even magic couldn’t fix, her current predicament being one of them.

                If she’d been told six months ago, after she’d been given the sack from her job that she would be scrounging about for places to stay and taking up a job testing sexual products with one Severus Snape she would have most likely laughed her head off. Only the reality of it wasn’t as funny now as it would have seemed then. She tried not to let her mind dwell on him. Severus Snape; such a strange man, certainly the last person anyone would think to choose for sexual experimentation, and yet in his own way he was the perfect candidate. He didn’t seem to have a problem with his arousal or pleasurable feelings getting in the way of providing accurate and useful feedback on the products. It unnerved her thinking about how he’d been able to fuck her without so much as a grunt, up until the cloud incident. At first she’d thought it was some sort of mind game, a mockery at her expense, and then she’d thought perhaps he suffered nerve damage and sensation loss from enduring the Cruciatus curse. But when it came down to it she realized that it was most likely just his very reserved nature that kept him in such strict control.

                Hermione thought about the way he had handled her the night she’d come to him practically begging him to provide her first experience with oral sex. It had been humiliating, but a part of her couldn’t deny that she had wanted it. There was something deeply naughty and terribly wanton about having the man between her legs, his sharp acerbic tongue softened and heated as it had licked at her most sensitive place, the heat of his breath having sent shivers up her spine. Thinking about it made her body warm beneath the surface of the heated water and she smiled dreamily. It had been an intense experience even if he hadn’t allowed her to finish. He’d been playing a game with her that night, though she hadn’t realized it until it was too late. Teasing her knowing that she would get worked up in a frenzy, after all who wouldn’t have given the skill he utilized?

                She found her thoughts wandering between that incident and the roguish way he’d grabbed her and kissed her. It had been a shock; the way his tongue had invaded her mouth, rough and passionate like some knave from those trashy bodice-ripping historical romance books Ginny was always reading. There had been heat in his kiss and when he’d pulled back she could have sworn his black eyes were smoldering with lust and desire. Or perhaps she had just wanted to see lust and desire burning in the blackness of his eyes; he had practically mocked her telling her he’d only kissed her because he thought she was so pathetic as to have never been kissed previously. Of course she didn’t dare correct him when he’d made that accusation, she had been kissed. Just never like that. While she wasn’t completely inexperienced, as most of her fumbling had been with Ron, and a few clumsy and sloppy kisses with Viktor Krum; she had never felt something so raw and passionate as she had when he’d kissed her.

                Thoughts asunder and eyes lazily dazing off into the back of the shower curtain she shrieked as it was pulled back. His naked body greeted her eyes for a brief moment; a growl of surprise echoing from his lips meeting her ears. Hermione was frantically trying to cover her body in the bath as he yanked the curtain closed, two of the rings holding it in place tearing in the process.

                “What in the hell are you doing in there?” He sounded flabbergasted and more startled than angry.

                Her heart was racing a mile a minute. She could feel it thundering hard against her ribcage, threatening to tear out of her chest. “Having a bath,” she squeaked, her voice small and frightened.

                There was a long pause from the other side of the drawn curtain and she swore that she thought she heard him sigh. “Anyone with eyes can see that, Miss Granger,” he muttered, his voice once more clipped and laced with sarcasm. “Would you care to enlighten me as to why you have taken up in my bath? Or shall I stand here guessing as I wait ever so patiently for you to vacate the tub so that I can go about my morning ablutions?”

                She couldn’t shake the image of his naked body standing just over her from her mind. It was absurd as she’d seen him naked and been more than intimate with his body in the workshop, but there was something mortifyingly embarrassing about seeing him then. And worse, knowing that he had seen her, lazing about in the clear water of the bath, equally as naked. Hermione blinked several times trying to formulate an answer. “You were sleeping,” she whispered quietly. “I didn’t want to wake you to ask…I had thought I’d be gone before you woke.” She wasn’t sure how passable of an answer it would prove to be, but it was the truth.

                Again another almost inaudible sigh and then she heard him speak. “Do you intend to finish up sometime this afternoon, Miss Granger?” It was said with annoyance and also a sound that indicated fatigue; as if he’d been too worn down to berate her properly. Which made little sense as he’d slept a good while. But she wasn’t about to question it, after all she was in the wrong.

                “Erm, yes, I’m just about finished,” she said, feeling the blush fill her cheeks. She didn’t understand why she was blushing. She was now well hidden by the shower curtain and although she presumed that he was standing just on the other side she knew that he couldn’t see through it. Hermione stood up, water sloshing and dripping down her body as she did. She bent over and pulled the plug from the drain; water beginning to swirl down it as the tub emptied. And then she froze. She hadn’t found a towel in his bathroom and had initially just intended to use a drying charm. Her clean clothes would be in her bag which were still out on the makeshift couch and it would completely defeat the purpose of having bathed only to slip back into dirty clothes. “You wouldn’t happen to have a towel, would you?” her voice was timid, and she could hear it trembling when she spoke.

                A long silence followed her question and then his hand appeared around the side of the shower curtain, a thick white towel clutched in his fingers. She reached for it, being careful not to brush his fingers as she took the towel and quickly wrapped it around her body. It was just enough to cover her modestly from the middle of her thigh up over her breasts and all the way around her body. That was a relief as she tucked it tightly under her arm and then pulled the shower curtain back. She noted he was standing with his back to the tub, a brown towel wrapped around his waist.

                Hermione stepped up over the tub, nearly slipping with her wet foot on the tiled floor. She muttered a drying charm for her feet and legs to keep from falling and making an already awkward situation worse. She picked up her clothes and clutched them close to her chest. She would have to move around him to get to the door, and she could feel her body heating in embarrassment as she did. “Sorry,” she muttered and then moved around him toward the door. She could feel his eyes on her; whether he was staring intentionally or not it was driving her crazy.

                Turning her head back over her shoulder she met his eyes, feeling the blush in her cheeks. “I hadn’t meant too—”

                “Just go about your business, Miss Granger,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m certain this won’t be the last I see of your body today.” Without another word he stepped up into the now empty bath, dropping his towel as he pulled the shower curtain shut, leaving Hermione blushing sheepishly in the doorway of his bathroom.

                By the time she had properly dressed herself and quickly disapparated away from Spinner’s End she realized it was only a few hours before she would need to be back in Diagon Alley headed for George’s workshop. She tried not to worry over what insane products would be tested that evening, and hoped that it would not result in another late night. Though she didn’t mind the late night working, it was worrying about finding a place to stay that kept her from wanting to do it. Her stomach was turning somersaults by the time she’d finally decided to pop into the Burrow and pay Molly a visit. It was mostly for lunch, the Weasley Matriarch did make the most delicious sandwiches and always had some sort of filling dessert lying about.

                Their idle chitchat never wandered farther than how everyone was doing. It was conversations like that which made Hermione thankful that Molly had seven children, thus giving her an endless supply of people to inquire about. They didn’t talk about Ron, other than for Molly to say that he was doing well, and she’d even given up on telling Hermione that he missed her. It was nearly six o’clock when she realized that time had escaped her once again and that she’d be keeping George and Severus waiting if she stayed and chatted much longer. Leaving The Burrow was always much more difficult than arriving, Molly constantly pestering her to drop around more often, to stay a night or two, reminding her she was always welcome. It turned Hermione’s stomach to think on it.

                She arrived in Diagon Alley just a few moments before six and was startled to see that she’d apparated just near Severus, who appeared to have also just apparated. She didn’t dare smile at him as he caught sight of her. But she noted with curiosity that he did nod in her general direction; an acknowledgment of sorts as he headed toward the joke shop. Her immediate instinct was to walk quickly and catch up with him, but she thought better of it. How on earth would it look to see the two of them entering the Weasley joke shop after hours together? Though she supposed no one in the alley would rightly care or even take notice, it bothered her just the same. It wasn’t as if they were somehow involved, though it made her blush to think about what they would be getting up to once they got upstairs.

                Once he was inside the shop she made her way to the door and slipped in as well, following him up the staircase to the second floor and then another staircase halfway up to the workshop door. She saw George busy at work on the other side of the workshop, hands elbow deep in a sticky purple mass that she silently prayed had nothing to do with whatever they were testing that evening.

                “I’ll be there just a sec,” he called, a rather rude noise emitting from the purple goop as he pulled his hands back. “Just tinkering with a new whoopee cushion idea, go ahead and get into your robes and we’ll get started,” he called and then turned his head to look over at them. “Hermione, did you— are you all set to work tonight?”

                She blushed. He was referencing the incident with the spray on fur. “Oh, yes, I’m fine George, all cleared up,” she added and then moved over to the hooks that had been designated for their clothes. Severus was already undoing the row of buttons on his frock coat, slipping out of it and hanging it on the hook. She never understood why he kept himself done up in so many layers, just knowing that he would have to come and undo them all every evening. She had been making the conscious effort to wear more simple clothing, bra and panties and just a jumper and a skirt. Within moments they had both undressed and were wrapped in the terrycloth fabric of the robes.

                Hermione took her usual place, sitting up on the edge of the work table, with Severus standing just beside her, waiting for George to join them. When he did he looked tired as if it had taken all of his energy to grapple with the purple goop at the far side of the workshop. But he gave them a smile and pulled up his stool, flipping open the ledger. “Glad to hear you’re back in commission,” George smiled. “And while I must say I’m sure it was unpleasant, because you didn’t know it was coming and all, the marketability of that furry spray-can is going to make us very rich,” he said.

                Her brow furrowed. “Us?”

                George looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh, I suppose I didn’t really have a chance to discuss that with you since we spent so long arguing about whether or not you were the right girl for the job.” This only made Hermione frown but she listened as George continued to speak, completely oblivious to her reaction. “I had discussed with Severus when he responded to the ad that in addition to the thirty galleons for every night of testing that you’re each entitled to 10% of the residual profits once I launch the line…wouldn’t be able to launch it without you so it only seemed fair…plus the shop still gets an 80% profit and with any luck they’ll be selling really well…I’ll be the only market for this particular type of product that doesn’t involve going outside of the wizarding community.”

                This was a startling factor that she had not considered. Being entitled to residual profits might in fact turn out to be lucrative, and just hearing it made a great deal of burden ease up from her shoulders. “Well, thank you, George,” she said trying not to seem too excited, lest she let on to how tragically destitute her situation truly had become.

                “Right,” George turned his attention to Severus after a moment. “I think, however, that in order to properly market that spray fur it’s going to need to be sold with a spray bottle of the depilatory…of course having someone who is proficient at brewing it…”

                Severus stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “For a price it can be done, brewing takes times and ingredients, Mr. Weasley.”

                George shrugged with a lopsided grin on his lips. “We’ll discuss a rate when it’s closer to being launched, but I think we can make it work.” He stood and retrieved the enormous hat box from atop the chest of drawers. Seeing it made Hermione’s stomach flutter, she prayed silently that there were no more awkward spray cans to contend with. When he set it down on the work table beside her and opened the lid she breathed a tiny sigh of relieve not seeing a single can inside. “I tried to sort through more of this last night. There are two that I am really keen to try for sure, and providing they don’t give us any trouble we can work through the rest of what’s in here, most of it is just lingerie, though some of it has a trick or two charmed in.”

                Hermione nodded at the two intricately patterned boxes inside the bigger box. “I take it those are the two?” She picked up one that was covered in various flowers all etched into the box.

                “Oh, yeah, that’s a good one to start with,” he said and carefully took the box from her. Plucking back the lid he pulled a little folded slip of instructions from inside. “De-Flower Me,” he read with a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

                Hermione’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Oh, George, you can’t be serious.” She could feel her body heating with embarrassment. “And besides…” she trailed off. Even if she had been a virgin coming into the project, she certainly wasn’t after testing the series of condoms.

                George chuckled. “That’s the genius of my brother, may his soul be haunting someplace splendid,” he said and made a mocking cross-like gesture over his body. “This particular kit is good for actual virgins and those who wish to…relive their deflowering.”

                As George read over the instructions Hermione carefully reached into the smaller box and pulled out what looked like a flower attached to elastic bands. She frowned, as the center of the flower appeared to be a hollow ring, petals outlining the edge. It looked like a Daisy with ten white silky petals all around the center. Accompanying the peculiar flower was a slender rod that looked a little like a flower stem sans leaves, and a little bottle of pink fluid. The tip of the wand was slightly bulbous but not very large, just enough to be dipped into the little bottle. She shook her head. “This doesn’t make any sense, George.”

                “For virgins,” he began. “Available in Daisy, Zinnia, Rose, and Carnation,” he glanced down from the instructions and into the box, seeing that it was empty. “Looks like we just have the Daisy,” he nodded at the flower that Hermione held in her hand. “Lay your lover on her back and carefully affix the elastic bands around her thighs, bringing the center of the flower just over her clitoris. The enchantment will adhere the central ring around her clit—” George’s red eyebrows shot high up onto his forehead and then he snorted. “Oh wow,” he said and then grinned. “Pluck away until you’re ready to deflower…”

                Severus, who had remained very quite as George had read the instructions aloud, unfolded his arms from his chest and gazed at George. “And if our budding flower has already been tainted by nature?” he asked. The way he phrased the question made Hermione shudder. It made her sound dirty.

                “For virgins who aren’t virgins,” George read from the paper. “Simply dip the stem in this convenient pot of revirginizing solution, gently insert the wand into your lover’s vagina, swivel a full three rotations clockwise and pull the wand back. Apply the flower head of your choice and begin plucking until you’re ready to deflower.”

                Hermione’s eyes were wide but she found herself completely speechless. Would the little pink bottle create a new hymen inside of her? Or simulate the sensation of one? And she could not imagine how having flower petals plucked from around her clit would affect losing one’s virginity let alone assist with it. If there was some divine novel effect to the process she wasn’t seeing it. But already she was sliding down from the table hearing George’s command to get her robe off and get started. It only took her a moment to shed the robe before she was laying on her back, the robe under her head like a pillow, her eyes gazing down her body as both George and Severus stood between her legs, which had been spread with her knees tented up.

                “I think,” George said, handing the Daisy to Severus, “See the diagram shows it sliding up her legs like this,” he said pointing to the picture. Severus nodded and then carefully lifted her left foot, sliding the elastic loop around it, and then repeating the gesture with her right foot. “Right, and then you pull it up until the flower is just there,” said George, not watching as Severus slowly tugged the elastic up her legs until the bands were nestled around the joints of her thighs.

                “The flower center should be just over her clitoris?” he asked, not taking his eyes from Hermione’s silky smooth sex as George reread the instructions. His hands were delicate as they gently pushed her labia apart, exposing the little hooded nerve bundle. One hand adjusted the flower until the large center ring was hovering just over her clit, and then Hermione whimpered, her whole body jerking as it felt like something had clamped down around her clit for a brief moment.

                “What the hell was that?” she cried, feeling a jolt of sudden pleasure shooting up through her, making her heart race.

                “Oh, that’s brilliant!” George cried looking at the way the flower was now situated over her womanhood, petals falling upward on her mound and downward over her lips. The center of the flower was now the delicate bud of Hermione’s clit. “That’s bloody brilliant!” George reached across Hermione’s body and picked up the wand and little pink jar. “Here,” he said handing it to Severus.

                Hermione tried to watch as best she could, propping herself up on her elbows as Severus dipped the bulbous end of the wand into the little jar. It felt like a glob of warm lubricant being pushed between her folds and then inside of her, a bit awkward almost like a gynecologic examination and she tried to relax as she felt him begin to rotate the rod. After a moment he pulled it out and she frowned. “Am I supposed to feel any different?” she asked.

                George shrugged. “I’ve no idea, but I suppose we’ll find out,” he said. “Severus, have a play with the petals, this looks like the standard edition according to his notes in the ledger, it would have been nice if he’d included the other flower heads, though I suppose maybe he didn’t get them finished…” he rambled on for a moment. “Anyway, just…I don’t know the first thing about deflowering women…of course I’m not saying you do,” he added hastily. “But have a play with the petals and then well…we’ll see if it holds up to its name and you can take her renewed virginity.”

                She swallowed hard; his words making her shudder just the slightest. The thought that Severus Snape, of all people, would suddenly be taking her virginity was difficult to wrap her mind around. Even more so was the fact that she’d lost her virginity some time ago to Ronald Weasley. The two were hardly comparable; the fumbling in the tent that night in the woods after they’d welcomed Ron back and Harry had gone out to think. Versus the way she had felt Severus touch her, everything about him screaming skill and grace and power and passion. The notion of him plowing into her womanhood, simulated like it was the first time made every nerve in her body tense. And then she groaned, unable to help herself.

                Severus had tugged on one of the petals of the little flower ring. As he pulled, the center of the flower contracted around her clit causing a jolt of pleasure to shoot up through her. Hermione’s hips bucked upward, her toes curling slightly as the pulsing pleasure radiated through her clit. “Indeed,” he said, idly tugging at the petal, short gentle pulls and then a slower longer pull, each motion of the petal seeming to affect her clitoris directly. It was maddening and Hermione was barely in control feeling such sudden and unpredictable jolts of pleasure spiraling upward through her. And then she shrieked, completely in the throes of an intense sensation as her clit was hit with something much more powerful than a little thrumming and squeezing.

                “It would seem,” Severus began, his voice low and even as he let a single white daisy petal fall from between his fingers. “That you can tease the petals, sending less intense sensations of pleasure directly to the clitoris, but plucking a petal sends a much more intense sensation.” His fingers took up a second petal and tugged it roughly, snapping it off. Another surge of pleasure burst upward through her clit and into her body; the shrill cry of uncontrollable pleasure leaving her lips before she could stop it.

                Already she could feel her body warming to the pleasurable teasing going on between her thighs; the slick dampness beginning to seep from inside of her just against her netherlips. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to calm her body, trying to fight the sensations as she’d so often witnessed him do. But it was no use; fighting off the little waves and sparks of pleasure was practically impossible. She’d even given up leaning up on her elbows, the strain it stretched through her body too much on top of all the little zings and zaps of pleasure. She was flat on the table once more, legs falling to either side with his long intricate fingers now tugging and teasing at a third petal. As he snapped it off she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. The mumbled moan that escaped her lips sounded even more lewd than her shrill shriek of ecstasy from moments before.

                If he was enjoying himself it was impossible to tell. If he were intent on driving her mad, she couldn’t say. When she did open her eyes to gaze at him he seemed determinately focused, staring at the petals of the flower, what was left of them. She gasped as he pulled another petal near its snapping point before letting it go. And then without warning he snapped off three more petals in rapid succession. Each snap of the petal left her clit aching for more; the quick flicks of intense pleasure they provided bringing her dangerously close to the edge of an orgasm, but not quite enough to push her over. She was certain he could feel her arousal leaking down between her lips, as slick as she was it was tempting to rub her thighs together to try and provide that friction she craved.

                Another snap and another, each one now punctuated with a shuddering moan from Hermione. She was indeed close; worked up and thoroughly drenched by her arousal, hips begging up off the table in need of contact, something to grind against. It didn’t matter that she’d become a complete harlot possessed by need in that moment, or that George Weasley was sitting nearby recording her every reaction in his damnable ledger. It didn’t even matter that Severus Snape, by way of a novelty product, was the one bringing her this intense ecstasy, only that she needed more of it. Faintly in the background, as if they were both so far away, she heard them speaking. George saying something about fingers.

                And then she felt them; long, slender fingers. His fingers, those fingers that had touched her, that had gripped at her hips; two of them prodding inside of her, filling her. She hadn’t recalled his fingers being so filling but then again in the moment she was having trouble remembering if he’d ever properly fingered her. Hermione whimpered feeling a pressure inside of her, his fingers meeting some sort of resistance as they pressed up into her, slowly pulling back and then out of her all together. Her eyes were out of focus for a moment before she drew her attention to him, slipping out of his robe. He was hard; she hadn’t really thought about how or when that would have happened.

                It seemed to happen so quickly, one moment she was splayed back on the table, the next she was drawn forward to the edge of it, her legs wrapping around his hips and the throbbing tip of his cock at her slick entrance. She could feel him slowly pushing into her; filling her more tightly than she’d remembered, no doubt a side-effect of the revirginizing solution. It was almost painful, feeling him so fully. And then she felt him stop; the pressure that had been building when he’d pressed a bit further into her ceasing for a moment. “Do I really…” she drew in a steadying breath, trying to compose herself. “I can feel it…”

                Severus nodded, and she noted for the first time that he looked just the slightest bit uncomfortable. There was a microscopic bead of sweat on his brow that trickled down and back along his temple before disappearing into his hairline. And she couldn’t help but wonder if he were struggling to maintain his composure of if the notion of taking her virginity, however simulated, was truly making him uneasy. She could feel him buried inside of her, not fully; but pressing against the newly existing hymen inside of her. Hermione reached her hand up as best she could, pulling herself up and back, careful not to force him into her further as sat up and wrapped her arms around his back.

                He narrowed his eyes at her but she pressed the palms of her hands against his bare shoulder blades. “If you do it like this…and have me up against something, the wall, the back of the door…” she was panting just slightly, still intensely aroused. She wasn’t about to admit that Ginny had told her that breaking your hymen in the upright position hurt less. She couldn’t say that it had been painless when Ron had been fumbling and bumbling in the darkness of the tent, but that was the farthest thing from her mind as she leaned her naked body in against his chest. The heat of his body sent little tendrils of pleasure pulsing through her skin and she shivered in anticipation.

                She couldn’t register her surprise as he obliged her, moving over to the wall and pressing her back against it. Positioning his cock again he pushed upward, meeting that barrier of resistance and she moaned; pleasure bordering on pain as he stretched her. Hermione buried her face against his neck, fingers gripping his shoulders as she felt him pulling back. And then he was thrusting upward, pushing past her rejuvenated virginal barrier. She sobbed, the sound muffled against his skin as she felt the tear inside of her, mingling with the deep pleasure of being filled so fully. It made her head spin; pain and pleasure mingling together, the burst of heat inside of her making her shudder and quake against him.

                He began to thrust himself in and out of her, the friction of his cock invading the sodden folds of her womanhood, in and out, the firmness of his mound grinding against her clit; it made her peak and she bit her lip to stifle her cry. Hermione’s body was quaking uncontrollably, her back pressed against the wall, her breasts pressed into his chest. She felt the wave of pleasure course through her making her toes curl as she panted for breath. And then she felt her legs falling slack from around his hips, her trembling knees nearly buckling as her feet felt solid ground. But he held her up; the weight of his body keeping her upright as he pulled her head up from his neck.

                She was met with an intense gaze and was still trying to catch her breath when he tilted her chin up as if staring deep down into her soul. “Are you alright, Miss Granger?” he asked, his voice low.

                Hermione blinked, feeling for the first time the little pricks of tears in the corners of her eyes. Despite the peculiar sensations of pleasurable pain her body had responded with little tears. “I’m fine,” she panted and then bowed her head trying to blink away the rest of them. “Yes, I’m alright,” she added and then raised her head to look at him once more. She hadn’t seen him summon her robe and his own, and was startled when he took a step back from her, leaving her leaning against the wall, to hand her the garment. “Thank you,” she muttered and took it with a trembling hand, quickly hiding her naked body within its folds.

                He slipped back into his robe, hiding his erection from sight, though the bulge at the front of his robe was still noticeable. He turned to George, who had been scribbling frantically in the ledger. “That seems like it was a real success,” he said and then lifted his head to look at both of them. “Hermione how did it feel?”

                “Strange,” she said, not knowing how else to describe it. “There was pleasure and pain, nothing excruciating, but it felt like…well like being torn into for the first time,” she said and squeezed her thighs together, trying to chase away all of the amazing and unfamiliar sensations she’d just been exposed to. “Though the stimulation with the flower petals beforehand, that helped.” She paused thoughtfully and then added. “I think for any actual virgin it will help…something to ease the pain, getting her all worked up before, or even for a recently renewed virgin,” she felt the slightest hint of a blush when she said this. “It keeps it from being awkward and miserable.”

                “Right!” George said, beaming a smile that left him looking pleased as punch. “Severus, did it feel…” he trailed off. “I guess I should have asked if you’d ever popped a cherry before…” he shrugged his shoulders. “Assuming you have, was it the same?”

                Severus took a minute to respond. He didn’t look lost in thought but his dark eyes seemed to be swirling with a plethora of unreadable emotions. Hermione found this curious but was not about to ask. “It felt as if she were a virgin, Mr. Weasley.” And it was all he said on the matter. She tried not to dwell on his lack of commentary, again wondering if it had made him uncomfortable for other reasons. Though given his comment the previous night about how he wouldn’t be going on about his time in the service of the Dark Lord or other such things, she doubted very much if she would ever find out.

                “You didn’t finish with her, did you? I mean, no matter I’ve still got the Lustipops, but if you didn’t we can have a go with the D2.”

                “D2?” Hermione asked with a slight frown.

                George stood from his stool and moved over to the hatbox, pulling out a bright red square box. “The D2,” he said as he took off the lid and pulled out what looked like a rather strange thong made of silky black material. “Double penetration assistance thong, or as I like to call it, the D2…” he handed the garment to Severus. “It’s brilliant, with a shifting extra sleeve,” he tugged on the thong as Severus held it to show the hole through which Severus’s cock would sit, beneath it a latex like sleeve not dissimilar to a condom. “But watch,” he said and then tugged the sleeve upward, sliding it to trade positions with the hole. “So you can have your choice of where you stick it and what goes where.”

                Hermione felt extremely nervous watching as Severus examined the garment. She had never experienced double penetration before, of any variety. She had never had any sort of sexual encounter that involved her backdoor. She could feel her body tensing just at the thought of it. But she tried to appear calm, despite feeling her spine go rigid as she watched George reach into the box and pull out a malleable phallus. “Slip it in the sleeve,” he said, sliding the phallus into the condom-like portion of the thong. “And turning it like this,” he pulled on its base in a clockwise motion, “Longer or shorter if you turn in reverse.”

                Severus did not seem impressed. Nor did he seem fazed, or eager. Her wide brown eyes were on him as he placed his hand where George’s had been, lengthening the phallus now concealed inside the sleeve to be roughly the same length as his own cock. He glanced at Hermione briefly and then back down at the thong, but his eyes landed back on her, as if sensing her extreme apprehension. He shook his head slowly. “This will have to wait,” he said and handed the thong back to George, who looked perplexed.

                “I mean if you need a minute—”

                The wave of Severus’s hand silenced George. “Given Miss Granger’s current condition…it would be wise to wait and make sure there are no residual effects of revirginizing solution that may cause discomfort or malfunction with this particular product, and as it would be wise to test this product in both positions, you would not want to destroy the sleeve nor the phallus in the process.”

                Hermione was flabbergasted. Floored and shocked into utter speechlessness. Had he just used logic to cover for her? Inconceivable. But she kept her mouth shut and quickly gazed down at the floor trying to make herself look neutral. “He’s right, George, I wouldn’t want to destroy your erm…well, it, in the event that— well, what he said.”

                George looked stunned for a moment and then nodded his head. “Right. Good thinking, of course, naturally, that’s why I have you two around,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Then I guess we’ll have to settle for the Tricky Handy Panties,” he said and carefully took the black thong and placed it back in the bright red D2 box. Pulling a rich purple colored heart shaped box out of the hatbox he set it on the table. “Two parts, one for him and one for her,” he said and pulled out an ordinary pair of purple panties, handing them to Hermione.

                She stared at them quizzically for a moment, holding them up to the light and stretching them in her hands. She could see nothing unusual about them, a standard pair of low rise, full cheek and mound coverage panties in a rather lovely shade of deep purple. There was a cautionary moment where she tugged on the crotch half expecting something wild to come jumping out at her, but after revealing nothing strange about them she shrugged her shoulders and slipped into them, shedding her robe back off her shoulders.

                Hermione felt them snugly on her body; not tight but form fitting. They were rather soft, jersey worn cotton or faded and well washed cotton, comfortable. She wriggled her backside with a bit of a blush, realizing how silly it must have looked but noting how very comfy she felt wearing them. But they were incredibly comfortable and she found it hard to believe that anything quite so comfortable could have come from inside the box of peculiar oddities that George had thus far subjected her to. She turned a circle and leaned into a lunge just to see if they would stretch with her body and she was surprised to feel that they did. These were the sort of panties that one could easily wear around the house on a day when only panties were necessary. She smiled just the tiniest bit at the notion that someday she might again have a place of her own which would warrant walking around in panties just like them.

                She turned around in a circle and then just stood for a moment, pleased as punch at how well they seemed to fit her. There was a sudden shift and Hermione shrieked, nearly doubling over as a rather intrusive sensation caught her off guard. It felt as if fingers had been suddenly stroked through her womanhood. Panic was wide in her eyes as she glanced down between her legs, half expecting the panties to be vanished and a creepy purple hand to have been waiting in their wake. But nothing was out of the ordinary and the panties were as they had been, comfortably in place against her body. Her heart was still racing from the sudden sensation when she felt it again only this time two fingers were prodding at her entrance, practically penetrating her and she screamed, wriggling and clenching her thighs, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Turning around she looked at George who was leaning back against the work table watching Severus.

                Severus, who was wearing a lone purple glove, crafted of similar material, on his right hand was standing and simply flexing two fingers up and down. Hermione moaned, feeling as if the two fingers that she had just felt prodding up into her were now curling up inside against her g-spot. The glove on his hand was skin tight, almost like a layer of purple flesh. She watched as he began to move his thumb in slow deliberate circles and then she cried out, feeling a slow moving pressure circling around her clit. “What— what is he doing?” she asked, jumping as she felt two fingers push more fully up into her, the invisible thumb now flicking at her clit. She noted that Severus was idly flicking his thumb back and forth, quickening the pace of his curling fingers.

                “Oh— oh!” she cried suddenly feeling a slight pressure between her cheeks. Her eyes were glued on Severus’ gloved hand as he bent his ring finger down and then slowly began to press his pinky upward while continuing to curl his other two fingers. The motions of his hands matched the sensations she was feeling in her panties, despite the fact that they remained clinging firmly to her body. “Oooh…” she moaned, the sound curling off into a whimper as she felt the taut ring of muscles in her anus being penetrated by a slender digit. At first she clenched, her body rigid; and the finger stopped, pressed just a fraction of the way into her back entrance. Her eyes did not leave his hand, which was as still as that of a statue. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to relax and once more the finger began to move, pushing further into her virginal opening.

                Hermione winced, feeling the slight pain of having such an intrusion. But it was coupled with the now near frantic curling of two fingers deep inside her womanhood. Alternating flicks of pressure hit her clit and she was keening, rocking back and forth alone, her hips desperately seeking to draw the invisible fingers into her further. She could feel her body quickly building up the sexual tension that was mounting to an orgasm. The slim finger in her anus moved more slowly than the two inside her quivering quim but it still felt strange, though not entirely unpleasant.

                “Hermione, how do you feel?” It was George’s voice.

                “I don’t know how he’s— but I can feel everything. His fingers everywhere, in me, touching me, on my— my everything,” she panted, feeling his fingers hit that deliciously sensitive spot within her right as he flicked at her clit with his thumb. The orgasm was miniscule compared to the one she’d felt when he’d torn through her hymen, but it was there. Just enough to make her body shudder and her muscles, both in her vagina and her anus, clench tightly. The motion stilled as she rode out the all too short lived and gentle rush of a minor climax.

                She watched as Severus touched the base of his wrist right where the glove met his flesh and suddenly the fingers vanished, leaving a peculiar feeling in their wake. “What the hell was that?” she asked incredulously.

                “Motion capture in a charm, sort of,” he said. “The glove acts like a transient receptor of sorts, Severus wears it and the movement of his hand and fingers is translated directly into your knickers.” George was beaming, looking particular proud of what he’d managed. “Brilliant, right?” he asked.

                If the wet spot that now stained the panties was any indication, she supposed he was right in assessing the novelty as brilliant. Her mind was working overtime trying to process it all. “Would it work with men?”

                “I suppose so,” said George. “Though I doubt very much those panties will fit Severus properly,” he said with a bit of a blush in his cheeks. As a gay man it was hard not to appreciate the way Severus was endowed, even if he didn’t find the man particularly attractive. “Though I suppose I could develop a pair of briefs that could work in a similar fashion, I’ll put it on my list,” he said and then stretched his arms up over his head. “I know it’s rather early, but would you two be put out if I called it and knocked off a bit early tonight?” he asked.

                Hermione raised a brow, “Tired?” she asked.

                George shrugged his shoulders. “A bit, stayed up all night tinkering about with that whoopee cushion and a few other things for the regular novelty lines,” he admitted. “It’s only half eight, still early enough for you two to actually have an evening doing whatever it is you two do outside of work,” he said and then tried to stifle a yawn.

                “I suppose I don’t mind,” she said and looked at Severus.

                “Makes no difference to me, so long as I receive payment,” he said. “And tomorrow we can test whatever all else it was you intended to have us test tonight if you wish.”

                “Sounds good, sounds good,” George said, waving over two small satchels, each containing the 30 crowns. “If you two are right, I’m going to pop off upstairs, order some dinner and call it a night.” He waited for them both to nod before retreating to the staircase and disappearing up into his flat.

                Hermione sighed. “Thanks,” she said as she took off the panties and moved over toward the hook where her clothes were hung. “For earlier, I don’t know how it’s so obvious that I’d never done that before, but thanks,” she murmured.

                Severus, who had joined her at the hook and was now into boxers and trousers, paused and looked at her. “I wouldn’t be thanking me just yet, Miss Granger. I am going to suggest that given our extra free time this evening that you accompany me to Spinner’s End,” he frowned and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not fancy the idea of inviting you back to my home; however, it is the lesser of two evils when the alternative is ramming a phallus into your rear when you’ve clearly never had any sort of penetration there before.”

                Hermione’s face glowed a furious shade of red. “I— surely you don’t mean to—”

                Severus’s intense stare seemed to kill her words in her throat. “If you were not willing to seek out another method for oral pleasures, I highly doubt you’re going to go about trying to find someone to assist you with the taboo subject of anal penetration, Miss Granger. And while you may think me a monster, I’m no sadist. There’s no pleasure in having that particular orifice, virginal or not, played with if you haven’t been thoroughly prepared. And in your case, a bit of practice couldn’t hurt.”

                Her mind was racing trying to process all he’d said. So much so that she’d stopped dressing halfway through her routine leaving her in a skirt and bra. She couldn’t take her eyes off him though he’d finished his dressing, buttons and all. He had bent to fasten the buckle of his boots and she swallowed hard. “I…” she nodded her head. “Alright, I suppose you’re right. Spinner’s End, then.” She said and then quickly finished dressing, following him down out of the workshop and onto the street. She had the sinking feeling she was in for another very long night.



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