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Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: DS: "fuzz’ – I don’t even know what to say to that . . . now I’m paranoid that I don’t do the towel fuzz check."
--Bahahahaha! It's not an issue for all towels. It's the fluffy bastards that can get you sometimes.
"I’m getting picky but I think Marvelous should be ‘Marvellous’ as it is a statement."
--I decided not to go with the British spelling this round (except on words that I do it without thinking . . . I know, so inconsistent).
"and now you’ve got me liking Crooks, what the??"
--Hahahahaha! I'm tricky like that. Crooks really isn't a big part of this one, so I've got to highlight him when I can.
And you'll get a taste of Snape and his black hole in this chapter. Stay tuned :P
8—Dinner Theatre
“Will you be my sugar rush, make me get high with just one touch?”—Jessie J
(Draco)
Draco almost plowed into Hermione’s back when she came to a screeching halt in the doorway. He guessed by her reaction that she hadn't been expecting Snape.
Draco was aware Severus and his father had been cooking up some kind of extravagant dinner in the kitchen, he just didn’t know it was being done in an effort to seduce Hermione.
And they were most definitely tying to seduce her. His father didn’t invite people over and make an effort unless there was something in it for him. Draco was furious with himself for not getting to her first. He’d been waiting until the weekend to see if she wanted to go out again; but now it seemed he’d missed his chance.
Draco rested his hand on her lower back, encouraging her to stand her ground. Go on. Don’t let them spook you.
Squaring her shoulders, Hermione crossed to the table, her heels clicking confidently on the hardwood floor. “Good evening, Professor Snape.”
Draco smiled to himself. So she could play the game after all.
But Severus was the Grandmaster of opponents. “Miss Granger,” he said cooly, sipping his wine as if he were bored by her arrival. His black eyes raked the length of her body, but his expression suggested he’d seen nothing noteworthy.
Draco knew that had to be an act, because she looked absolutely stunning. Her grey dress was simple, but it hugged her curves like dream, accentuating her assets in a way that seemed beyond the capabilities of wool. Her hair was smooth and sleek, which wasn’t a look he was used to seeing on her. There was a curl at the nape of her neck that kept catching his eye, and he had the urge to press his mouth to it . . . and work his way down.
Lucius pulled out the chair across from Snape and, with an unnecessary flourish of his fingers, gestured for her to take a seat.
Sliding up beside her, Draco gave her arse an reassuring pat, and she flashed him a secretive smile over her shoulder.
“Draco, take your mother’s seat,” Lucius said, dismissively waving toward the foot of the table.
Draco rolled his eyes. He hated sitting in his mother’s chair. It was unsettling and made him a bit ill. But there was no other place set. Grudgingly, he sat opposite his father, shooting a scowl down the table to proclaim his displeasure.
Lucius ignored his fury and went about selecting which dish to pass first.
Draco scanned the table to see what was for dinner. Blisteringly red strawberries topped with fluffy whipped cream. Hmmm. Perhaps later. Sliced figs drizzled in honey. What’s with all the fruit? Chocolate custard sprinkled with slivers of dark chocolate confetti. Okay . . . I’m beginning to sense a theme. And the large silver serving platter held an artfully arranged bed of raw oysters. Bloody hell, this was an aphrodisiac buffet. Very subtle, father. Why don’t you just whip out your cock and tell her you’ve got spotted dick on the menu?
“You simply must try the custard,” Lucius said as he set the dish before her. “Severus made that himself.”
“Did he?” Hermione asked, her eyes darting to the Potions master as if wondering what he might have laced it with. “I didn’t know you were handy in the kitchen, Professor.”
“He’s handy in most rooms,” Lucius quipped. “But the custard is his specialty.”
Hermione smiled and pushed the bowl back toward Lucius. “I couldn’t eat before the host.”
Draco ducked his head and grinned at his plate. Smart girl. Consuming any comestible prepared by Snape sounded like a high stakes dare.
Sensing her reticence, Lucius snickered and served himself. Draco took a sip of his wine and waited to see if his father would actually ingest what he’d put on his plate. Severus seemed oblivious to the custardy standoff and was piling several strawberries next to the oysters on his plate. Draco made a face. Bleh! Strawberries and raw bivalves—what a combination. Lucius hadn’t thought this through at all; she was going to be too nauseated to partake in whatever perversion he had planned. Hmm, perhaps that’ll work in my favor.
Lucius swiped his finger through his custard and, looking Hermione in the eye, licked it away with a suggestive curl of his tongue. “Mmmmm,” he murmured. “Scrumptious as always, Severus.”
Snape acknowledged the praise with a solitary nod.
Hermione glanced at Draco, her gaze searching his, asking if it was safe to eat. Draco shrugged. It seemed legit.
Scooping a hearty serving onto her plate, she passed the dish to him and then stared at the chocolately mound as if gathering her courage. With a final deep breath, she felt around the edges of her plate and tipped her head sideways, peering under the table as if she’d dropped something. “I don’t seem to have any silverware.”
Lucius’s gracious smile curled to a wicked grin. “I recalled your fondness for using your hands and planned the menu accordingly.”
Her ears went pink, but she didn’t appear upset by the comment. “I see. How considerate.”
Unfolding her napkin with a graceful whip of her wrist, she placed the linen over her lap like a proper lady. Then, as if to obliterate that image with stark contradiction, she swirled one finger through the custard, drawing small spirals over its rolling peaks with a sensual finesse that made his scrotum tighten with anticipation. In the blink of an eye, she’d become the badass dominatrix of desserts, and Draco’s cock stood on tiptoe to see what she would do next.
Lifting her finger, Hermione studied the glistening chocolate with detached interest. Draco longed to lick her clean, but using their guest as a utensil might be considered bad manners. Instead, he watched with bated breath as she lapped the custard from her finger like a lascivious lioness, the dark dessert disappearing on her tongue in erotic increments. She gave Lucius a triumphant smirk and stuck her whole finger in her mouth, pulling the remains from the digit with a prurient pop of suction. Draco’s knob attempted to batter its way past his zip, heedless of the grating metal teeth barring the way. How was he supposed to function, let alone eat, with her fellating her food like that?
Hermione’s expression shifted from coquettish pride to pure surprise. “Oh! This really is amazing.” She scooped up another dollop and began her ritual anew. “I think this might be the best chocolate I’ve ever had,” she muttered between licks. “Where on earth did you learn to make this, Professor?”
The hint of a smile tugged at Snape’s mouth. “It was my mother’s recipe.”
“Bloody hell,” she said, her eyes rolling back as she swallowed another bite. “You should retire and start your own custard shop.”
“That’s just what I keep telling him,” Lucius chirped. “Snape’s Secret Recipe. We’ll give Fortescue’s a run for their money.”
Severus ignored them, tipping back an oyster and chewing slowly as if the conversation wasn’t taking place.
“I could eat a whole tub of this,” Hermione said with a groan of arousal. “What’s your secret?”
Severus cocked one eyebrow. “Love,” he replied dryly.
Lucius snickered and studied his chocolate-coated finger. “I always thought it was sugar.”
Snape shrugged as if to say same difference.
“Try it with the strawberries,” Lucius told her. “The taste combination is sublime.”
Snape pushed the bowl toward him, and Lucius dished out several red berries, arranging them on his plate like an artist’s palette. Swiping one through the custard, he held it out to her in offering.
“Thank you.” Hermione pinched the leafy, green top between two fingers so she could bite off the end . . . but not before her pink tongue tapped the tip for another quick taste. Then her plump lips wrapped around the circumference as if latching onto an enormous nipple, and when she took a bite, those lips followed the curve of the red dimpled skin, dragging over its flesh like a hungry lover.
Draco was getting worried he wouldn’t have any usable cock left by the time dinner was over; his trousers had worn off the first layer of skin, and he was almost down to the quick.
Her tongue reappeared to gather a speck of chocolate from the corner of her mouth, and Draco had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming all over himself. He refused to humiliate himself two weeks in a row.
“These are so ripe,” she said as she lapped up a stream of juice that had run down her thumb. “Where did you find fresh strawberries at this time of year?”
Snape answered even though the question had been directed at Lucius, “There’s a produce patch in greenhouse three.”
“Did Neville grow these?”
He nodded.
“This is so good—especially compared to the ham sandwiches I’ve been eating all week.”
Lucius passed her the bowl. “Please, indulge. We need to keep up your strength.”
Hermione shook her head but smiled faintly. “I’m not likely to last long on custard and strawberries.”
“We have oysters as well,” Lucius said, motioning to Snape for the dish.
Severus passed it over, and Lucius set three on his plate before handing her the rest. While they were distracted with the next course, Draco took the opportunity to try the custard for himself; in the chaos of carnal consumption he kept forgetting to eat. When the first dark finger full touched his tongue, he did a double take, convinced his taste buds had deceived him. The custard was sweet and smooth, sinfully rich and creamy to a fault. Outstanding didn’t do the dish justice. He tried it with the strawberries next and almost had an oral orgasm. Bloody hell, he was going to collapse in a sugar coma—but what a way to go.
“Do you have any lemon for the oysters?” Hermione asked Lucius.
Lucius scanned the table. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “I left them in the kitchen. Please excuse me.” He headed to the hall, calling out, “Accio lemons,” in a annoyed tone.
Hermione placed three oysters on her plate and passed Draco the platter. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the taste sensation of oysters and custard.” Her squeamish grimace suggested she was as revolted by the idea as he’d been.
“You need a palate cleanser,” Snape said quietly as he sipped his wine, the glass distorting his voice. “Something to . . . occupy your tongue.”
Playing along, she nodded earnestly. “What do you suggest? Sorbet? Bread?”
“We do have pickles,” Lucius said, returning with the lemon wedges and setting the bowl next to her.
“I’m sure this lemon will work just fine,” she replied, her smile betraying her amusement. “But if you and Severus have the urge to lick pickles between courses, I have no objection.”
Draco snorted into his custard, impressed she’d volleyed the serve.
“Or is that just a library snack?” she asked with a sweet smile.
“Not at all,” Snape shot back. “Pickles are a palate cleanser in any room of the house. That would be like saying you could only shuck your oyster when hiding behind a bookcase.”
Hermione blushed brightly, but a chagrined smile lit her face. “Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do when faced with impromptu dinner theatre.” She tipped back an oyster and gave Snape a daring smile.
“Go head and swallow, Miss Granger. We all know how much you enjoy that part.”
A flood of red suffused her cheeks, and it took her a few seconds to chew and gulp down the mollusk. “Mmmm,” she purred, fighting tooth and nail to appear unaffected. She had to take a sip of wine to gather her wits, but then she came out swinging.
Swiping her finger through the whipped cream that clung to her strawberries, she brought it to her lips and began to clean it away with delicate touches of her tongue. “Can I assume, from the showcase of talents you displayed last weekend, that you creamed these berries by hand?”
“That I did, but since the berries never screamed my name like a banshee, I can only surmise that they weren’t as satisfied by the experience as some.”
Draco and Lucius both turned to Hermione to see if she had a comeback for that.
Choosing another lemon from the bowl, she suggestively wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed. Draco’s cock throbbed at the memory of her gripping him in a similar fashion.
In a blatant simulation, her hand slid down, following an imaginary shaft, and she ejected the lemon’s juice all over her oyster without breaking eye contact with the pale Potions master. “I’m sure if you had just used the proper tool, you would have had those berries singing your praises.”
“Some berries can’t handle professional equipment,” he said, enunciating the last word, which added a fresh coat of blush to her cheeks. Severus slurped back his oyster and chewed it slowly, never looking away.
“You just need a heartier variety,” she assured him. “Some berries appreciate a good hulling.”
Snape’s left eyebrow quirked. “Is that what had the juices running down your leg last week, dire need of a decent hulling?”
Smiling broadly, she shook her head, but Lucius interrupted before she could reply.
“I thought it was the meat tenderizing that set off your marination.”
Hermione smirked. “As I recall I wasn’t the only one with marinated meat.”
“That wasn’t marinade,” he said haughtily.
“No? What was it?”
“A vintage I keep in reserve for special guests.”
Hermione returned his sly smile. “Is that on the menu tonight as well?”
“It’s dessert. But only if you clean your plate.”
Draco made a face and sat back. “I’ll skip dessert, thanks.”
Unable to maintain her cool facade, Hermione threw back her head and laughed riotously. “Oh gods,” she gasped, wiping her eyes. “I’m sure we can find you a suitable substitution.”
“In that case, you’d better pass me those lemons. I don’t want chocolate oysters on my tongue if I’m going to have Granger pie later.”
Grinning, she pushed the bowl toward him. Their hands touched, and she traced the backs of his fingers, lingering far longer than necessary and drawing everyone’s attention.
“You should try the figs,” Lucius said through clenched teeth, obviously furious that Draco had stolen his spotlight. “Sweetens the tongue.”
“Don’t deprive him, Hermione,” Draco said in stage whisper. “His tongue needs them far more than yours.”
Lucius sneered and pointed a threatening finger in Draco’s direction. “If you’re going to act like a child, I think you should—”
“Here you are, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione interjected smoothly, placing a fig on his plate. “Excuse fingers.”
With a hint of confusion, Lucius’s anger melted to pleasure.
“How about you, Professor? Does your tongue need sweetening?”
Lucius glanced at Snape and smirked. “There aren’t enough figs or honey in the world to sweeten that tongue.”
Severus side-eyed him, but it scarcely dented Lucius’s arrogant armor.
“I think Miss Granger has proven herself to be a witch who prefers a bit of bite in her wizards,” Severus said darkly. “Perhaps you should pass me a lemon wedge instead.”
Draco pushed the bowl over to him, and Hermione gave the Potions master a thoughtful look as he selected a suitable specimen.
“I like a variety of flavors,” she said without a hint of irony.
“Indeed,” Snape muttered.
Severus’s obsidian eyes bore into hers, and Draco could almost feel the sexual tension radiating off them in waves. A worm of worry ate its way into his gut.
Lucius, whether oblivious or jealous, cut through the moment with a blithe, “I hope you’re able to stay and chat after dinner, Miss Granger.” He licked the excess honey from his fig and suggestively arched one blond brow in her direction.
Hermione looked down at her plate, gnawing her lower lip as if debating the possibilities. Draco sensed her hesitation and found some hope in her reticence. Maybe she wasn’t keen on his father after all. If she bailed, Draco was going to ask if he could go home with her.
“I didn’t know this was going to be such a . . . populous party when I came over.”
Lucius met Snape’s gaze, and they regarded one another carefully. Was she suggesting she wasn’t interested in shagging one of them, or was she just apprehensive about the prospect of a gang bang? If this was too much for her, Draco wanted to get her out of there quickly. His father wasn’t fond of being told no.
“I’d like to . . . sample the options,” she continued, “but . . . you’d have to make it worth my while.”
Lucius and Severus broke their silent conversation to study her, both sets of eyes searching for some kind of clue in her expression.
Lucius spoke, his voice transformed from cool amusement to soft reassurance, “I think we can satisfy your cravings. Shall we retire to the library?”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed, as if the right amount of focus would reveal any deceit. “If you mean spanking central, I think you'd better prepare to grovel. I might enjoy a good slap on the arse, but I don't make a habit of letting men pass me around like an after-dinner cigar."
Draco almost choked on his last oyster. Granger was better at playing hardball than he’d expected. And if Lucius was going to grovel, Draco wanted to go find the camera.
"Malfoys don't grovel," Lucius said flatly.
“Good to know," Hermione said with a easy smile. "I'll just see myself out then. Thank you for such an interesting dinner, Mr. Malfoy. I've had a lovely time." She took her napkin from her lap and patted the corners of her mouth. "Good evening, Professor. It was nice chatting with you. Perhaps I'll see you here again sometime."
She rose from her chair with a polite nod, and Draco popped out of his seat faster than a Snitch on speed. "Can I stay at your place? This Malfoy will grovel as much as you please."
She held out her hand to him. "I always have time for a man who appreciates my company."
Draco flashed the older wizards a wicked smile. "Don't wait up."
He put his arm around her and started for the door. "Hold on a second, love." Running back to the table, he picked up the bowl of custard and nodded at Severus. "This should come in handy. My compliments to the chef."
Hermione laughed, the bright sound ringing through the manor's empty corridors. "Come on, Draco. It's time for the next course."
He put his arm back around her shoulders and hustled her down the hall. When he knew his father was out of earshot, he kissed her head and murmured, "No dessert until you give me a proper hug."
She smiled up at him. "Did you want me to hug you with my dress on or off?"
His eyes widened. Holy fucking harpies! Where had this witch been hiding all these years? "How do you feel about custard corsets?"
She shrugged. "That should look nice with your custard g-string."
Not exactly what he had in mind, but Draco was up for anything. "In that case, let's go back to your Cupboard and play pantry perverts . . . I’ll bring the cream."
Dinner Theatre—I really hope I don’t have to explain this one, but for those who can’t figure this one out, it’s when you go see a show and, while you’re there, they feed you a meal. (This usually takes place in a large banquet room/hall of some sort.)
“Sexy Silk” by Jessie J. Written by Jessica Cornish (Jessie J), Jack Hammer, Justin Broad, Ashton Millard, and Paul Herman.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YVDE-LCL7L4
Fun tidbit: Jessie J is the first British female artist to have six top ten singles from the same album (on the UK Singles Chart).
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