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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90306 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 85
- 86
- 87
“And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After”

Chapter Eighty-Five
"Squonks, Sex, and a Sachamama"

Disclaimer:
This is Rowling that wrote Harry Potter,
That Betz read and loved,
That drove her to read fanfic,
That inspired her to write fanfic,
That borrowed the characters
That play in the fanfic that Betz wrote.

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

As Albert and Hermione filed into Lavender's office for their weekly meeting, they chatted back and forth in Latin. Hermione had picked up the ancient language as if she was born to speak it. Given the fact she was so familiar with the nomenclature of so many plants and animals, it helped greatly. So many spells were based in Latin which also was a boon in understanding the language, and the conjugation of verbs and sentence structure seemed to make more sense to Hermione than Greek.

Christine was already in Lavender's office, deep in discussion with the company president and founder. The arrival of the two Potions experts signaled it was time to begin the meeting.

“The launch for India – starting in October when the monsoons end – is right on track. And as I've been advised not to Portkey the last few months of my pregnancy, I've decided you, Hermione, will have to be there in my stead, since I am appointing you vice president. It makes sense, since you are taking on so many duties and will be running the company during my maternity leave,” Lavender announced. There was congratulations from Christine and Albert with Hermione's promotion.

“Of course there is a pay raise, given you are coming up to speed and have been taking on some aspects of the company. Christine will also be going to India, and I'd like you to be there as well, Albert. It will be a weekend event. Unfortunately, I can't get a Portkey for you, Christine, so you will have to fly out on an ae-reo-plane. That won't be a problem, will it?”

“Not at all, travel via airplane will be fine until end of November,” Christine assured her client.

Puzzled, Hermione looked at her aunt. “Why would travel by plane be a problem?”

“Because I'm pregnant,” Christine announced, beaming brightly.

Hermione hugged her aunt, joyful that she was able to conceive again and quickly after her miscarriage. “Congratulations. Uncle Tim must be over the moon.”

“He is,” Christine said, trying to not break into tears, feeling her emotions suddenly go all wonky and intense.

Albert congratulated Christine with some kind words and encouragement before they went back to discuss business.

“Christine will make the arrangements, you just have to show up, say some pre-scripted words Christine will come up with for public relations, look lovely for the photographs – I'll have a stylist on hand to take care of your hair and make-up, and Christine's too,” Lavender assured them both. “Also shake a few hands and do the same sort of thing I did at the Ministry ball. Talk shop, make a few business connections and such.”

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes. That is exactly the sort of stuff she hated. She didn't want to schmooze. She would rather have a nice lengthy discussion about Potions theory with some of the Indian Potions masters, not hobnob with the press and “the beautiful people.”

She guessed if there was a promotion and raise involved, there would be some unpleasant aspects of the job which would be compensated with pay.

“In addition, Christine has told me that in the Muggle world they have beauty products just for babies. So I've decided to have you both create a line of products just for infants. Shampoos, soaps, bubble bath, lotions, and so on. Christine and I are still working on a name for the line, but we'd like you to begin work right after you finish with that roll-on henna tattoo kit you've been working on.”

Hermione couldn't wait until they were done with the roll-on henna tattoo kit that didn't require users to sit still for several minutes to hours to apply like the traditional method still employed by witches in India, even with Charms to add an extra hand, literally. Her skin felt raw from having to scrub off the henna that was guaranteed to stay on for two weeks, no matter how many times you bathed, swam, or exfoliated. Albert gave her a solution that could remove it, but it really was wreaking havoc with the skin on her arms and legs where she tested the product. The henna tattoo stayed on for two weeks, but they didn't have the right color yet, since the ingredient used to make it last longer lightened the intensity of the color, which was undesirable.

Working on a line of products gentle enough for a baby's skin sounded preferable to scrubbing off henna tattoos.

The rest of the meeting went quickly, which Hermione was thankful for. She was glad Lavender kept meetings to the point, after hearing her Aunt Christine go on about how some meetings in the Muggle world could go on for over an hour with nothing much said at all, and people having no idea at the end of the meeting what they were supposed to do.

At the end of the day, Albert swung by Hermione's office.

“Ready to go squonk-hunting tonight?” Albert said, a chipper gleam in his eye.
“I understand that squonk tears are valuable in beauty potions, but the poor animal is just a pitiful creature,” Hermione complained, feeling more sympathy for the creature than Albert did.

“Despite their horrid appearance, they are rather prolific breeders, and if we don't capture them, their population will get out of control,” Albert lectured her, knowing her stance on killing animals for sport alone. “Besides, they are very destructive to some forests, gnawing away the bark of some old and ancient trees. Neville has a nest of them who have been destroying some fruit trees he has at his nursery, so we'll be doing him a favor by capturing them.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I am not so reluctant to participate.” There were other potions ingredients just as effective as squonk tears for use in beauty potions that improved skin tone, but if the animals were a nuisance and there was no threat to their population, Hermione was willing to go.

It looked like Hermione was committed to going squonk-hunting after all. Instead of staying late in the office Friday night and viewing Severus' memories, and possibly recalling another memory of her and Severus being intimate, she'd be tromping about underbrush of the full June moon following a trail of tears by wandlight and bagging squonks.

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

There was a torrential downpour as Severus and Draco walked to the bar after locking up Friday night. The Parapluie Charm that arced over their heads, shielding them from the rain, did not stop the rain from splashing up from the sidewalk and all over their shoes.

This was supposedly the dry season, but that didn't mean that they didn't have the occasional rainstorm. Hurricane season did officially start at the beginning of the month and it was only June fourth. This wasn't a hurricane, but it certainly was quite a storm.

Entering the bar, Bongo greeted the pair, followed by all the other patrons.

“Aloha,” Severus and Draco called back in greeting.

Mounga was singing some Barry White, his voice perfectly mimicking the disco behemoth’s deep bass range. The large wizard waved at his friends as they entered since he was busy. No doubt Rainbow had harangued him into singing again.

The matriarch of the Finau family had been bugging Draco and Severus to sing at least once during their Friday nights at the bar. Ginny had already sung a couple times, belting out a few songs that were popular back in England that had made it to the states and were played on the local WWN. Her voice was sweet and a little breathy, and she stayed in key except for a couple high notes she had trouble reaching.

Severus ordered an old fashioned and Draco ordered a gin and tonic, the sultry evening demanding they have something refreshing to quench their thirsts.

Mounga finished and came back over to join his wife, the Malfoys, and Severus. Ginny was nursing an ice cold beer, with the glass charmed to keep it chilled. There was a local brewer who made a pilsner which was almost as good as what was available in England, but Draco and Severus preferred their ale and bitters on the warmer side. They were unable to understand how Ginny could drink it so cold, despite her insistence it was perfectly palatable.

The band consisted of Maurice playing his accordion, a witch on piano, the same old wizened witch on guitar, Agnes, and another couple wizards who brought their trumpet and violin. They were playing some mellow impromptu jazzy country-western composition.

“Draco, Severus, are you going to try your hand at the beard-growing competition this year?” Rainbow asked. “And you can't use any potions. It has to be aaaaaaaall natural.”

Ginny broke into peals of laughter. “Facial hair on a Malfoy? Buwahahaha!”

Draco gave his wife a rather nonplussed sneer. “Malfoys can grow facial hair. You have never seen the portraits back at Malfoy Manor. My great-grandfather, Ransom Malfoy, had a rather prodigious beard.”

“Only because of the rumor that he was the bastard child of a werewolf,” Severus threw out, knowing that old story that had not a lick of truth to it would nettle him.

“Pure speculation and malicious conjecture based on bitter accusations of a jilted mistress, I assure you,” Draco insisted, lifting his nose up in the air.

“Ten Galleons says I can grow a better and thicker beard than you,” Severus threw out as a challenge.

“Ten Galleons and the loser has to make cassoulet according to the winner's preferences,” Draco accepted, upping the bet.

“Wait, there is a contest already for who will win that will be judged at the Pele Festival,” Rainbow butted in.

“If neither of us wins, the bet is still on,” Draco said.

“It will be a snowy day in Malu Palekaiko before I make cassoulet with lamb, tomatoes... and bread crumbs,” Severus drawled haughtily, pronouncing the last ingredient with great distaste.

“Not the fucking cassoulet again,” Ginny mumbled to herself before taking a long sip of her pilsner.

“Are you backing out of our bet?” Draco asked, looking smug.

“Not a chance.” Severus stuck out his hand and the two wizards on it shook.

“What's a cassoulet?” Mounga asked, noting there must be some serious history behind the story for those two to get in each other's faces over it.

“A sublime French dish made with primarily beans, carrots, onion, and various cuts of pork and duck,” Severus elucidated his dear friend, taking a sip of his drink while exuding an aura of cultural sophistication.

“And lamb, tomatoes, and bread crumbs,” Draco added, his own aura a bit more imperious and haughty.

“A proper cassoulet does not need bread crumbs to get the proper crust,” Severus insisted, getting into Draco's face.

It wasn't an outright hostile skirmish, but it was a dog-eared debate which had once again brought back old prejudices and firm opinions that could not be budged.

“Will you two just shut it!” Ginny snapped, slamming her fist on the bar top. “Draco, go sing!” She pointed angrily over to where the musicians were just finishing up their song. “You promised you'd sing for me tonight.” To drive her point home, she folded her arms in front of her, an indication she was in no mood to bicker or to put up with their frivolous nattering on any more.

“Fine. I'll sing,” Draco announced with a smirk.

Walking over to the piano player, Draco leaned over and talked with the witch, who nodded her head and talked briefly with the other players before Draco stood up and took his place by the piano.

Draco started singing, the band beginning after the first count of four.

“Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
It's not warm when she's away...”

Severus watched as Ginny beamed a glowing smile at Draco, overwhelmed with love for him and the song of pining he sung for her.

"And I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know,
Hey, I oughtta leave the young thing alone
But ain't no sunshine when she's gone”

The crowd in the bar cheered, impressed with Draco's control and ability to sing the whole repetitive stanza in one breath, his voice emoting the aching of longing. He dredged up the painful memories of heartbreak and yearning for Ginny after reading about her marriage to Potter, giving an exceptionally soulful rendition.

As Draco finished, the bar erupted in cheers, amazed Draco had been hiding such a good voice all these months. There was clapping and whistles from several patrons, including Bongo, the bartender.

The aching in Draco's rendition only served to stir up repressed emotions for Severus of how much he was missing Hermione and the simple joy of bathing in her love that she radiated towards him. The lyrics only reminded him of how much his own house did not feel like a home without her.

Joining the group back at the bar, Ginny gushed at her husband, “You remembered!”

“Was that your song?” Rainbow asked.

“Right after the end of the war, before that stupid decree passed, Draco and I went out to a movie,” Ginny answered.

“The decree – you mean the law that Severus and Draco were prosecuted under?” Rainbow asked for clarification, since she hadn't been filled in on the details.

“You mean the same movie where Miss Brown spotted you both?” Severus asked, knowing that Draco had only ever been to a movie theater once before.

Severus had advised Draco not to go out in public with Ginny back then, since there were Death Eaters still roaming about Great Britain right after the war. Either of them could have been spotted and one or both hurt in a wand battle in a dark movie theater, or Ginny used as blackmail against Draco, had they figured out Draco was a spy.

“Yes, that one,” she replied to both questions. “Well, it was one of those romance type of movies. There was a point where the boy and girl are separated, and they played that song to show how much the boy missed the girl. Not that we watched much of the movie after that song played,” she added with a smile, remembering their first kiss.

Severus thought how very accurately the song embodied a sense of longing, given how morose he was suddenly feeling, longing for Hermione.

Ginny turned back to Draco. “When did you memorize it?”

“Lavender loaned me her Pensieve,” Draco admitted, and Severus could have sworn he added under his breath, “a few thousand times.”

Lost in thoughts about Hermione, Severus had to be nudged by Draco's elbow to bring his attention back to conversation.

“Hmm?”

“We have been given the pleasure to finally hear Draco sing. Can we finally convince you to sing us one song?” Rainbow coaxed Severus, trying to be sweet without pressure.

Severus was confident he had a good voice, since Chuff had made him sing for hours on end in order to improve his voice so when his Master finally deigned to drag Severus to his first Potions masters booze-up towards the end of his apprenticeship, Chuff would not be embarrassed by his apprentice singing poorly. During his apprenticeship he felt like he was being trained like a caged bird ordered to sing for their amusement alone. Severus did not want to be pressured into singing when he was not inspired to do so. He was usually inspired when he was alone, when no one else could critique his ability. Old resentments bubbled up, making him feel as if he was an animal being prodded to perform upon command for the entertainment of others, and not of his own volition – and without inspiration.

'You want to hear me sing?'

Severus dredged up the most maudlin and heartbreaking ballad he could think of at the moment. He wanted to sing something which would be such a downer and kill the jovial mood in the bar, no one would ever harangue him to sing again.

“Fine,” he bit out shortly, his eyes flashing.

Mounga didn't think this was going to be such a good idea and wished his wife would have waited another night to pester Severus. It was evident she was oblivious to the sudden somberness that stole over the brooding Potions master during Draco's song. Mounga could tell that his friend was missing Hermione, recognizing the look he would get on his face whenever she was brought up – even very briefly in passing, and never in front of his wife.

Severus spoke to the violin player before setting his drink down on top of the piano.

He momentarily closed his eyes, and recalled the way the one wizard from the Highlands at the Hog's Head sang the song. It was mournful, and even the most hardhearted of wizards often did not have a dry eye when he was done singing. Well, except for Aberforth, but he heard the old wizard sing it many, many times over the years.

Drudging up every ounce of longing he felt for Hermione and the agony of being separated from her, Severus opened his mouth and began to sing acapella, the wizard from the violin joining in after the first stanza, once he could discern the notes and cadence to play along.

“A wizard call'd Eòin Greumson
Of bonnie Blackbriar Dornoch
Was bid to fight the goblin horde
Rebellion rose an' duty call'd

He left his love, fair Maighread
His promise: a gowden ring
That they should wed 'pon his return
No later than the Spring

A year had passed and not return'd
Poor Maighread was waefu'
Her lover fear'd lost for dead
Maighread's breast brokenheart'd

A poison quick upon her lips
The witch did drink 'ere deeply
To see her Eòin on the other side
Join'd e'er in eternity

As Eòin came home, he found his bride
Light fading from her eyes
She thought she had join'd him beyond the veil
And pass'd to the other side

No ghost remain'd, her soul pass'd on
Though Eòin was not to be found
She wandered lost without her love
Maighread found no relief in death's bound

Young Eòin gaed to join his bride
His heart could beat no more
In gravely beds, they lie aside
Join'd e'er beyond Grim's door.”

Severus' baritone voice rang clear and true to this slow funeral dirge of a happily ever after denied. He captured the essence of the song with the same commiseration and sorrowfulness as the Highland wizard who used to sing it in the Hog's Head.

When he finished, the bar was deathly silent, except for the odd sniffling noises from some of the witches who had broken down into sobs during the song.

Severus lifted his glass to his lips and drained the last of it before slamming the empty glass back down on top of the piano, and quickly stormed out of the bar.

Ginny grabbed a bar napkin and blew her nose. Even Draco wiped a few tears from the corner of his eyes, remembering how it sounded exactly as he remembered the few times Severus had taken him to the bar during the war, on business for the Order.

Rainbow wiped away the tears from her eyes and said in a manner trying to lighten the mood, “Severus has got to get laid one of these days.”

Mounga could not understand what his wife's fascination with Severus' personal life was. Maybe it was the fact that Severus didn't share a lot of his past openly, and that left a lot to her imagination. Maybe it was because since Severus had been informally adopted into the family, she felt it was her obligation to make him happy and know his business, as if he was something to fix. Maybe it bugged her to no end that she didn't have any juicy gossip on him that she had to fill in the blanks in her own mind, but Mounga was getting tired of Rainbow's obsession with the private details of Severus life that he didn't share. Knowing Severus' secrets didn't make it any easier for Mounga to bear, knowing the pain his friend felt.

Mounga drained the last of his own drink, after wiping away the last of his own tears, and set it on the bar when he fixed his wife with an impatient glare. “Rainbow, remember that I love you when I tell you this, but shut up. It's none of your damn business.”

Rainbow stuttered and stammered a bit, trying to find some way of saying she meant well, her eyes flashing several different colors before turning black.

“And Ginny and I really should get going to dinner,” Draco said overly brightly, knowing that there was a possibility of a fight brewing between the older married couple.

They paid for their drinks and bid them a good night while the Finaus glared at each other. Draco could tell it was going to be an awkward night at the hot springs.

Severus strode back home, glad for a chance to stretch his legs before he got home, as it gave him a chance to cool down. He didn't like wearing his heart out on his sleeve, and he felt as if he had just laid bare his soul for the town to see with all the emotion he poured into that song. He wouldn't have done it if he had a much cooler head, especially after he and Draco both got riled over that cassoulet bet.

His snipping at Draco was partly because he had a case of blue balls that was backing up into his brain, making him a bit short as of late. More so than usual. With the increase in temperature and the lengthening of daylight, Severus' testosterone levels were increasing, making him even more sexually frustrated. It didn't help that he had run out of Polyjuice Potion, and the current batch he was working on would not be ready for at least another week, given the lengthy time required to stew lacewing flies.

He had used up the last of his vials of Polyjuice Potion over a month ago, and he longed to see Hermione one again. Not that he had a mirror, which was something else he needed to buy for his barely furnished home. There was a mirror charm he could cast and it would serve his needs, but a proper, non-enchanted mirror, is what he needed.

Severus sat on the bed and picked up the photograph of Hermione he kept on the bedside table. He hadn't put it by his bedside the day he moved in until all the guests had left for the night. He didn't want to field any questions as to who the witch in the photo was, though some of the people at the party would have known.

Next to her photo, Severus kept that dried lemon that Hermione had given him as a promise that she would clear his name and one day he would truly be free. He wondered if she had made any progress on that front.

He felt emotionally drained. Lying back on his bed, he didn't even feel like a wank, which usually helped when he was missing Hermione. Severus knew he should have something to eat for dinner, but he didn't feel like getting up and cooking. Even the thought of sitting in his reading chair with a book in his library brought him no solace. There were chores to do around the house, but even he couldn't find the motivation to get up and do them.

Severus still sent his own clothes out to be washed by the elf who ran the laundry service, but he no longer had an elf around his home in order to dust, do the floors and dishes, wash the windows and other various things he got used to with Marf around. There were the summer’s home from Hogwarts when he had to take care of his own housecleaning, but it had been years. Now the drudgery of keeping house fell squarely on his shoulders alone, and he didn't feel like hiring an elf to clean house, finally having a place that was all his with no one else wandering about.

There was a brief moment when Severus pondered how much it would cost to buy a Pensieve. At least then he could visit the memory of Hermione, but wondered if that was just a bit too desperate. Right now, he didn't care how pathetic it may have seemed, his bones ached for Hermione and her touch.

At least he would go out flying with Mounga and his family tomorrow, since they had invited him. Perhaps a little flying would improve his mood the next day.

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

“Lumos!”

Hermione could finally see the trail of tears, glistening by wandlight. Neville was off in another patch of woods, following a squonk that had left another trail to follow, while Albert was on the trail of a third. There was a whole nest of them.

She had seen some of the damage done to Neville's inventory when she arrived that night; the squonks had really gone to town on wreaking havoc at his nursery since her last visit nearly a week prior. At least they didn't get into his greenhouses where some of his more valuable plants where kept. Now Hermione was enjoying the hunt, feeling no pity for the destructive little buggers.

The trail was fresh and it didn't take long for Hermione to find the four-legged creature, covered with warts and odd growths, ambling about the underbrush of some overgrown hedges. With the use of her wand, she corralled the creature into her sack and Apparated back to the spot where they had a pen to hold the squonks before they started to liquefy.

The pen was already filled with a few other squonks who were weeping pitifully, in the process of dissolving into a pool of bubbles and tears. The pen was built to capture all the fluid left behind after the creatures would cry themselves into non-existence. There was a slot and a funnel at one the end of the pen, and a large jar to collect the fluid.

Hermione opened the door. While the other squonks scurried away to the other side of the pen, she dumped out the squonk in her sack that had begun sobbing.

“Serves you right for ruining Neville's nursery,” she said with some satisfaction.

Neville's nursery wasn't completely trashed, but he had probably lost all of his month's profits with the damage done.

Squonks had been imported into England about 200 years ago for use in beauty potions. However, some had gotten loose and the squonk population had flourished, hiding out in the countryside ever since.

Now she needed to go find a new trail of tears, since it was estimated this nest held about nine squonks and they had only captured six so far. Squonks tended to nest in multiples of three, and they didn't think there were twelve squonks in this nest. Albert and Neville were on the trail of two more, which meant Hermione had to find one more for the night.

Stalking about as quietly as possible, Hermione thought she heard the rustle of a squonk off towards her right near a large tree. She kept her wand dark in order to prevent scaring it off and having to give chase. Quietly creeping along, she heard the crinkle of some leaves right behind the tree.

Hermione leapt out from behind the tree right when Neville also jumped out, thinking Hermione was a squonk herself.

The pair had startled each other in the process. Hermione began to stumble backwards and Neville, in an attempt to prevent her from falling, tried to grab hold of her. With his long arms, he reached for her, but in the process, he lost his balance as well, his one foot positioned upon a wobbly rock.

Neville slammed up against the tree with his back, Hermione clutched in his arms protectively.

There was a great expulsion of breath and a slight groan as the wizard made contact with the stout oak, a nob on the trunk digging into his back.

Neville and Hermione began laughing at the fact they had scared each other and nearly caused the other to fall over.

The laughter died down as each suddenly realized how they were in very close proximity to each other. Neville's chest rose and fell, Hermione's hand pressed against it as she was leaning into him from their stumbling.

The moon was high in the sky, casting their faces with a dappled silvery pale light beneath the great spreading oak.

It had been too long since Hermione had felt a man's arms about her. It felt so good to be held like this, and she could not move.

Glancing up, Hermione saw Neville gazing down at her with desire shining in his eyes. Hermione's stomach began to flutter, realizing Neville was attracted to her, as he had never indicated any interest in her that way before. And suddenly, she was feeling very drawn to Neville as well. Hermione knew her friend was merely a substitute for Severus, but didn't stop her from wanting to stay in his strong arms just a little bit longer, missing the touch of another man.

The shout of joy in the distance indicated Albert had found another squonk, interrupting the moment of intensity between the two friends. Hermione pulled herself off Neville and began smoothing down her clothes, fidgeting nervously over the moment that had almost happened between them. Had Albert not yelled, it would have been natural for Neville to crane his neck down and kiss Hermione.

Neville pulled himself away from the tree, hissing and rubbing at the spot where the knot jabbed him.

The two were about to make some awkward apology or dismissive remark, both feeling a little embarrassed, when there was another rustle off towards the left this time.

Hermione and Neville followed the sound until they were sure they were close. By wandlight, they found a pair of squonks in the middle of mating, the source of the noise. Squonks, because they cannot stand even their own reflection in the water, mate with their back towards each other so they do not have to look at something as ugly as themselves.

Considering how Hermione and Neville had been in an intimate embrace not moments before, it only added to the awkwardness of the situation to find the two creatures mating.

Neville and Hermione wrangled the pair who were stuck together, as the male squonk knots during copulation, into the sack and Apparated back to the holding pen.

Albert had just finished closing the cage when the two appeared, Neville with the sack over his back.

“I think this makes nine,” Neville said, as he put the last two in the cage, still joined at the genitalia.

Albert noticed the nervous shuffling of Hermione and the way that Neville seemed to try to avoid looking at Hermione.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hermione said hastily. “We thought each other was a squonk and sort of ran into each other.”

Neville rubbed the spot on his back still aching, knowing it was going to leave a nasty bruise.

It would take another fifteen minutes for the last of the squonks to be done transforming and its liquid collected in the large jar. The three humans made conversation, using Latin, since Hermione had become quite fluent in it.

After Albert screwed the lid on the jar, Hermione used her wand to fold and collapse the holding pen into a small box Albert could put into his pocket and place back in his lab.

Neville was happy that he'd had a free extermination service performed. Albert was thrilled he could sell some squonk liquid to Lavender for a pretty Sickle, and for less than what she would have paid for it wholesale.

Hermione shuffled her feet, kicking the toe of her shoe at the gravel on the ground. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow after I'm done working at Albert's.”
“Yeah,” Neville replied a bit nervously.

They exchanged a somewhat awkward hug, both unsure how friendly or platonic to embrace the other given their encounter earlier.

Albert refrained from rolling his eyes at the awkwardness, spotting the reluctant sparks between them.

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

Severus had agreed to go flying with the Finau family, but he didn't fly alongside of them much. Iakona, Mounga and Rainbow's son, challenged Severus to a speed race. Severus was older, but he was still the better flier. He left Iakona in his dust, eating the older wizard's eddies. If anything, the simmering frustration Severus felt, hating himself for needing Hermione so much and how it was affecting him so, spurred him on, giving him the will and desire to fly away from his troubles as fast as possible.

By the time Severus had crossed the landmark they used to designate as a finish line, Iakona was far behind him and the rest of the Finau family was even farther yet.

He had made mention he needed to do a bit of collecting during their flight, so he flew over towards the sheer cliffs where white-tailed tropicbirds were nesting, in order to collect a few eggs. Grabbing his bag from a pocket on the leg of his flying gear, Severus hovered his broom over towards a nest that had a couple eggs in them.

Being careful, as the nest was located just above some viciously thorny bougainvillea, Severus reached over sideways. He was hoping to not crack the shells during the collection process since they were very fragile.

As he reached a little farther, he felt something in his back twinge and he seized up, twisting his body. Grimacing in pain, he also swore, as his broom faltered, and Severus and his broom drifted suddenly into the cascade of bougainvillea, scratching him up badly in the process.

Severus dropped the bag and winced as he set himself upright on his broom, in pain from having to bend over and grab his broom handle. As he sat up as straight as possible on a broom, Iakona joined him.

“You all right, Uncle Severus?” the young wizard asked.

“No,” Severus ground out between gritted teeth. “My back.”

Iakona sped off and got his mother, who was over half a mile away still.

Rainbow flew over and saw the way Severus was sitting on his broom. “Oh, dear. You wrenched your back, didn't you?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes shut tight as just trying to balance on the broom was making his back hurt that much more.

Rainbow brought her broom alongside Severus and pulled out her wand.

A few spells and Severus' back was well enough to get him back home, but he would still need to see a specialist. Rainbow said she knew someone who could fix him up good as new, and she would owl the person once they got back to their home.

The flight around the island was cut short as Severus, much to his humiliation, was escorted back to the Finaus' home.

Once they were back, Severus was set up in the guest bedroom with a charmed ice-pack on his lower back while Rainbow contacted the specialist.

“Don't feel bad, Severus,” Mounga assured him. “My dad was as fit as they come, and he threw his back out when he was five years your junior on the amateur adult Quidditch league during one dive for the Snitch.”

Severus had seen family photos. Mounga's father was as large as Mounga, possibly larger. If he was a Seeker, he was probably the world's largest Seeker ever to have played in a game professionally or as an amateur.

Mounga's comment should have consoled Severus, but it didn't. It made him feel old and decrepit. Severus had promised to act as a substitute referee for the junior league game of the Warriors versus Sharks the next day, as one referee had to bow out due to family illness. Now he would have to abdicate and another referee would have to be found last-minute. Severus acted as an alternate referee when one of the referees could not make it, and this would have been his fourth game substituting, but it seemed he would need a substitute for himself now. Mounga assured him not to worry about it, as there were a couple others who could fill in.

Rainbow came back into the guest bedroom where Severus was laid out on his stomach. “Well, you have an appointment with a chiropractor and masseuse who will fix you right up. She takes care of Mounga when he tweaks himself periodically. You'll be right as rain by tonight.”

She took the time before Severus' appointment to clean up the scratches on his face, arms and legs. The bougainvillea had torn right through the fabric and punctured and scratched him with its long, piercing thorns.

Lunch was being served up, and Severus was asked if he wanted to join the family, but he decided to just continue laying down, his appetite severely diminished due to the pain. Rainbow's spells to help with the pain reduced the severity, but still did not take away all of it. She could have given Severus a potion, but she said that the specialist he was going to see had her own potions to give him for his treatment session.

When lunch was over, Rainbow came back into the bedroom and gave Severus the address of where to go. Severus said he'd come back later to pick up his broom, to which Mounga said he'd keep it in the broom shed until he could fetch it later.

As Severus slowly hobbled the four blocks to where this “specialist” had her office, he hoped she could help provide him some relief. He would have Apparated, but he feared the act would wrench his back even more, and the specialist's office did not have a Floo connection.

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

The initial awkwardness between Neville and Hermione quickly dissipated as they got to work on deadheading some of the early-season roses and other late-spring perennials which had already finished blooming. Neither said anything about the incident in which they found themselves in each other's arms. They were back to their usual friendly banter, talking in Latin, and discussing the upcoming election where Amelia Bones was challenging Cornelius Fudge for the seat of Minister of Magic.

The election would be held around mid-August, so there was a lot of time before people would vote on the matter.

As the day was coming to an end, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas stopped by the nursery at closing time, as they had done periodically, to visit their old school chum.

“So Neville, you up for a pub crawl tonight?” Seamus asked. His eyes periodically darted over Neville's shoulder to view Hermione's backside, as she bent over to pick up a bag of potting soil to move to the potting shed. “We're hoping to hit all four countries – England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland – tonight. Last one who doesn't splinch themselves wins. You game, mate?”

Neville gave his friends a lopsided smile. “Sorry, but I'm taking Hermione out to dinner tonight.”

It was all very platonic and innocent, but not the way Seamus interpreted it.

“All right! Banging the divorcee. Good job, mate,” Seamus congratulated him, with a jocular clap upon the shoulder. “It's about time you got back on the old broom after Luna dumped you.”

Hermione barely caught what Seamus said, and what little she did hear, she chose to ignore. What she definitely heard was the sound of Neville's fist making contact with Seamus' face. Neville could have used his wand, but there was something a bit more chivalrous about him hitting their old classmate instead of hexing him.

“What the fuck did you do that for?!?” screamed Seamus, his hand held to his nose to stem the flow of blood, as he laid half-sprawled on his arse while looking up at his old classmate.

“You apologize to Hermione right this instant,” Neville demanded, whipping out his wand and pointing it squarely at Seamus' chest.

“What for?” Seamus questioned, sounding like he had a cold as his nose began to swell.

“How dare you talk about Hermione that way!” Neville stood up to his full height, towering over Seamus.

Dean said nothing. He held his hands up in surrender, a reminder that he had nothing to do with the choice of his friend's words.

“She must really be a fabulous piece of cunny for you to deck me like that,” Seamus bit out with a snarl, spitting out some blood, giving his friend a contemptible look.

“Hermione and I are just friends. And if we were more than that, it would still be none of your business. As for Luna, you know nothing on that matter either.” Neville's voice became deep and threatening, full of promise to make Seamus regret his words. The look on his face matched his words. “Now apologize to Hermione.” He prodded the tip of his wand at Seamus' throat to encourage him to do the proper thing.

Seamus had seen Neville like this only during the war. The herbologist was normally a very sweet and affable fellow, but when provoked, he could be as dangerous as any well-trained Auror.

“All right, all right.” Seamus put his hands up. Glancing over at Hermione, who was standing with her arms crossed over her chest with a glare, he said, “I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have said that. I assumed–”

“That's right, you assumed.” Hermione didn't want to be the center of gossip, especially if Neville would be dragged into it. He was too nice to be subjected to the rumor mill that she had been through enough over the years. She was still dealing with the looks she got for being known at that witch who divorced her husband, the star Quidditch player.

“I'm sorry. I thought that since he was taking you to dinner, you two were dating,” Seamus explained with a meek shrug as he hauled himself up off the ground.

“Hermione is doing part of her apprenticeship working for me... for free. I don't pay her, but I take her out to dinner as compensation for all her hard work she does around the nursery. She certainly works harder than you did, and that was when I was paying you,” Neville chastised his friend.

Seamus winced as being called out as a lazy worker. His nose was still bleeding and if he stuck around much longer, who knows how much more his ego would be bruised.

“I guess I'll catch you later. Mate,” Seamus said begrudgingly.

Dean gave Neville a faltering smile and shrugged, not knowing what to say about his friend's poor behavior, but not abandoning his friend either, choosing to leave with him.

The pair of wizards Apparated from the spot, leaving Neville and Hermione alone in the main nursery greenhouse.

Neville was still breathing heavily when Hermione came over to him.

“Thank you, Neville. You didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it,” Hermione said with admiration.

“A lady like you shouldn't have to put up with talk from a wizard like that,” Neville said solemnly. “Who cares if you're divorced or not. Ron wouldn't have gotten the same attitude for being divorced, there is no reason why a divorced witch should be treated that way while a divorced wizard is not.”

It was exactly the sort of thing Hermione had thought about in the past several months. A wizard did not face the same social stigma of being divorced, but a witch was certainly treated like a social pariah and a slag. It was wholly unfair and a double standard, but then again, the wizarding world was full of gender double standards, except when it came to Quidditch.

Hermione went to reach for Neville's hand to see if he'd injured it.

Looking it over, she saw that his knuckles were beginning to swell.

“It's all right,” Neville said dismissively. “Besides, it was worth it.”
It touched Hermione that Neville had stood up for her. Tapping her wand to his hand, she healed it.

Neville let her hold his hand for a bit longer when she didn't release it. With his other hand, he tipped her chin to look up at him.

When she glanced up, she saw that same look of desire in his eyes as the night before. Before Hermione could look away and drop his hand, Neville swept his arm around her and firmly kissed her upon the lips.

In shock to Neville's gesture, Hermione didn't move, but she didn't push him away either. Neville's other hand gently cradled the back of her head and he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth, which she granted, despite the sensible part of her mind screaming at her, wondering what the hell she was doing kissing Neville back.

Her own arms reached up and grabbed greedily at Neville's shoulders.

An urgent response to his kisses spurred him on to be bolder, guiding Hermione backwards toward an empty bench in the greenhouse.

Neville's kisses were possessive and spoke of someone who wasn't timid or unsure. There was a certain confidence in his attitude that overwhelmed her, making her want to submit to his advances. It was sexy in the way that there was no hesitation or doubt in his touch, while not being overbearing.

His hand palmed her breast and Hermione gasped, wishing it was Severus and willing to imagine it was. Only God knows what possessed Hermione, but her hands began fumbling with the buckle of his belt. She had been aching for a good and solid fuck since taking the Dionysus Fever potion, remembering the feeling within the hallucination of being savaged by lust made manifest.

Understanding her intention on just how far she was willing to go, Neville grabbed hold of Hermione and Side-Along Apparated with her directly to his bedroom. Once in the seclusion of his home, Hermione yanked at Neville's shirt while he began unzipping her trousers. Neville hadn't even removed Hermione's shirt yet when she was relieved of all clothing below the waist.

In the back of Hermione's mind flitted the silent prayer of thanks she was still on contraceptive potions, more out of necessity to regulate her cycle than to prevent pregnancy.

Neville kneeled before Hermione and kissed her stomach, inching her top off. Once her top was removed, he began hungrily kissing and suckling at her breasts while Hermione closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his hair, moaning in response to his touch. It was different than Severus' touch, but she didn't care. She ached with need.

His broad shoulders were tanned from working shirtless in his own garden at home. He definitely had the build of someone who worked the land.

Guiding down her down onto the bed, Neville's eyes met Hermione's and he asked silently for permission as is mouth trailed lower from her breasts down her stomach. Hermione sighed, laying her head back. She spread her legs, letting Neville go down further.

He was gentle and patient, licking and nibbling, probing and suckling at various parts of her. A part of her was feeling guilty as if she was cheating on Severus. In a way she was cheating, even though there were no promises between her and Severus even with the plan to move to Hawaii in the future, but if she stopped herself now, she felt she would surely cry. Shoving any feelings of guilt aside, she begged Neville to take her, unable to wait any longer. He hadn't brought her to orgasm yet, but she didn't care. She just wanted to be shagged senseless. She would deal with the guilt later.

Neville stood up and finished disrobing before settling himself between Hermione's legs.

After rubbing the tip of his cock around to ease penetration, he slid into Hermione.

Hermione's back arched and she let loose a scream, finally feeling the sensation of something other than a magical dildo in her for the first time in months.

The feeling of Neville's body between her legs, the sensation of skin against skin, the musky scent emanating from him, the sound of his breathing and grunts, the weight of his body above her – this was so much more satisfying than masturbating in solitude in her flat or in a Pensieve.

Neville, guided by Hermione's cries, thrust into her, trying to satisfy the consuming need. He was making her hysterical as she thrashed and clawed at his back, growling with animalistic shrieks.

Right now Hermione didn't care if she came or not. She needed this more than some masturbation-induced orgasm which left her feeling in want of more. It took a great amount of control not to shout out Severus' name as she kept pretending it was her lover.

Neville reached down and stroked her clit, trying to bring her to completion, but he couldn't hold out much longer.

His hips stilled as he came.

“Oh, Luna,” he breathed.

Hermione's eyes flew open. She was not the only person in this bed who was pretending it was someone else.

Neville lifted his head and looked Hermione in the eye. His face spoke of great remorse and embarrassment.

Climbing off Hermione, he sat on the edge of the bed, his head hanging down in shame.

“I'm sorry,” he breathed. “I've been missing her so much. And in a moment when you were so close to me, I...”

Hermione felt great empathy for Neville. She had been missing Severus and had been willing to bed Neville in hope of bringing back the memory of him once more.

“I hope you can forgive me, Hermione.”

Sitting up, Hermione sat next to him, her knees bent and her feet tucked up onto the bed. She placed a tender hand on his shoulder, finally noticing the large bruise on his back where he'd slammed against the tree the night before when he tried to prevent her from falling.

“Don't be ashamed, Neville. You're not the only one pretending it was someone else,” she admitted, unable to look him in the face. She felt a little sore, having engaged in sex without the addition of lubrication.

A perplexed look stole over Neville's face as he scrutinized the witch he'd just bedded. “If you miss Ron so much, how can you work for Lavender then?” he asked, confused by their arrangement, especially now that Lavender was having Ron's child.

Hermione closed her eyes and spun around to face away from Neville. “Ron wasn't the only one who fell in love with someone else while married,” she admitted with some shame, the tears silently falling.

“I thought Ron was the only one who was unfaithful. Who is it, and does Ron know?” Neville thought he knew the story behind their divorce, but evidently there was more to it that Hermione had first admitted.

“Ron doesn't know, and he can't.”

“Why, so you can make him look like the bad guy?” he confronted her hotly, his tone accusatory.

“It's far more complicated than you can imagine, Neville,” Hermione responded with anger. “One day I will tell Ron, but I assure you, this divorce was mutual and I was the one who demanded it to end.”

“What difference would it make if you told Ron now versus a year from now?” He spun around to look at Hermione, regarding her as she sat there nude, her knees drawn up to her chest.

“There are some things I need to do first before the truth can be known. And even then, I think you'd be shocked.”

Hermione could only imagine the look of horror on Neville's face with the news that she'd fallen in love with and helped with the escape of the same Death Eater professor who had made Neville a nervous wreck for so many years.

“Lavender knows the truth,” she confessed. “And this goes beyond just Ron and me. Like I said, it's very complicated.” Hermione stared at her top and brassiere that were laying in a rumpled heap in front of her.

Not wanting to get a bladder infection, Hermione got up and walked off to the bathroom to take care of her needs, leaving Neville to ponder her cryptic words.

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

Upon reaching the address on the scrap of parchment Rainbow gave him, Severus opened the door.

“Just a moment?” a witch's voice rang out from behind an open door. She had a Spanish accent.

Maria emerged from the back and smiled at Severus. It was the same witch whose son had asked if he was an albino at the Christmas luau.

“Rainbow told me you hurt your back. Care to tell me how?” She tilted her head and gave him a curious look.

Severus knew Maria had a decent grasp of English from their previous brief encounters. She sold mangoes from her garden at the Saturday farmers' market that he periodically visited when he wasn't busy with morning appointments at his shop; she also was one of the few single witches who wasn't blatantly pursuing him. For the purpose of avoiding any confusion, though, Severus began speaking in Spanish with her.

“I was flying on my broom and trying to collect some eggs from a nest when I hurt my back.” Severus stood up straighter in order to reduce the tension and pain.

“Collecting eggs? Which hand were you using?” she asked in order to better understand how he wrenched his back.

“My right.”

“And were you reaching up, across, or down," she said, positioning her body and arm in such a way as to give Severus an understanding of what she meant.

“Across and a little down. There was a crosswind.”

“Using your hands like a clock, what position were your arms in when you reached? Twelve o'clock?” she asked putting her arms right in front of her, before putting them out to the side. “Three o'clock? Or somewhere in between?”

Severus closed his eyes and remembered to how he reached out. “Two o'clock.”

Maria nodded. “Come, I have a table ready for you.”

Severus didn't know Maria was a masseuse and chiropractor, since most witches and wizards tended to be fully-practicing Healers specializing in magical accidents and illnesses. But given that touch could be healing as well, he supposed it was only natural. He had given many massages as a gigolo. There were witches and wizards who were massage specialists, but the acupuncture and chiropractic disciplines were unique. It was sort of a Muggle profession, but given the propensity on this island to embrace Muggle ways – as he had discovered, there were some witch/wizard and Muggle mixed marriages locally – he shouldn't have been surprised.

“Are you a Muggle-born? If you don't mind me asking? Most witches and wizards I know back in England in the healing arts don't specialize in these areas.” Severus asked, explaining the nature behind his question.

“Yes, I am Muggle-born. My father was a chiropractor, who also studied Chinese acupuncture. My grandfather was an acupuncturist from China. And when I found out I was a witch, I still wanted to incorporate what I learned from my father and grandfather into my field. I was fully trained as a Healer, but find this much more rewarding. Sometimes I help at the clinic when Rainbow is short staffed.”

Severus remembered Ginny's wish to become a Healer. Between Rainbow and Maria being Healers, he wondered if the young witch might finish her work to become a fully-trained Healer some day. He would have to bring the subject up when Draco and Ginny came over for their ritual Sunday-night dinner the next night.

In the private room, Maria told Severus to undress and gave him the option to keep his underpants on or not. Once she left the room and closed the door, Severus struggled to undress himself, still in his Quidditch flying gear, his regular clothes already thrown over a chair to change into after his treatment. He undressed completely, knowing she would have to massage portions of his hips to work on his back, since everything was interconnected.

There was a knock on the door, and Severus bid her to enter. He was face down on the table with the sheet pulled up to his hips, just as he used to do it when he was massaging clients who visited him as a gigolo.

Maria didn't talk much except to place her hands on certain areas and ask it something hurt or was tender, or if the pain referred elsewhere.

There was a potion she gave him which numbed most of his trunk region, while she rubbed other potions on his back and hip areas. While face down and numb, he couldn't tell that Maria was inserting thin acupuncture needles into his back and hips, but he occasionally felt some pressure applied with her hands.

At one point, she instructed him to take a deep breath and not to flinch, but to remain relaxed. She had placed her wand at certain points along Severus' spine and set the charm to pull; this straightened out his back and helped pop the disc that slipped back into place. Even with the potion to numb him, Severus felt instant relief once he was realigned, but she still had some work to do.

It took two hours to fix Severus, an operation on par with piecing Humpty Dumpty back together again. Reversing charms that morphed one's head into a tea kettle or restoring body parts splashed with Swelling Solution – those were easy enough to heal, but fixing the soft connective tissue and muscles when one did not injure oneself by magic was another thing. Injuring oneself in the same way a Muggle did sometimes required a bit more skill to fix than a quick charm or simple potion.

Once she was done, she gave Severus a potion to end the numbing effects of the one she had given him earlier.

With feeling returned to his body, Severus felt as good as new. Even that nagging knot in the upper back from hunching over his cauldrons was gone.

Maria was done, but she didn't tell Severus to get up from the table yet. Dragging the tips of her fingers lightly along his spine, she was rewarded with a shuddering sigh from Severus.

He had been missing the feeling of a woman's touch.

Still, ignoring Maria's attempts to seduce him, he asked while still face down on the table, “How soon before I can go back to swimming, gardening, and flying?” He had finished weeding a patch in his garden, and was hoping to get some seedlings planted tomorrow after the Quidditch game that he would no longer be refereeing.

“I'd say if you avoided strenuous activities for a week, you should be fine. But some activities are not as strenuous than others, wouldn't you say?” she asked as her hand slipped under the sheet and slid up the back of Severus' thigh, grazing the inside of it.

Severus' breath hitched, suddenly feeling an erection coming on. He was laying down on top of it as it demanded to spring free from being suddenly bent the wrong way. It was certainly professional enough of her to wait to seduce him until he was better, but given how he was still undressed, except for a thin white sheet, it was not the best professional behavior. Then again, he hadn't been exactly on his best behavior when he was massaging Hermione when he was still pretending to be Calleo. Karma was being an ironic cunt today.

Wincing, he lifted himself up off the table, while trying to remain covered. Sitting up, his legs dangling over the edge, he kept the sheet clutched across his hips and legs, his chest and back exposed.

Maria took the opportunity to approach Severus, standing in front of him between his legs.

“We haven't had much of a chance to talk, but we can do things other than talking to get to know one another,” she purred, her Peruvian Coast accent indicating she came from an upper-class family.

Severus knew she was married, having heard through the usual island chatter channels that she'd left a physically and emotionally abusive husband and fled for sanctuary while her son was still an infant. The husband was back in Peru. Maria, being Muggle-born, had also been unaware of the magical bonds of marriage regarding children until after she became pregnant and her husband's true colors emerged.

Mustering restraint, Severus closed his eyes and grasped at the edge of the massage table as Maria began to slide her hands up his thighs towards his erection, which was tenting the sheet that concealed him.

“Señora,” he said sternly, trying to find the strength to not give in to her advances, and to impart his disinterest despite what his body was otherwise indicating.

“Maria,” she breathed and leaned forward and kissed Severus.

A part of Severus wanted this. He'd had sex with other clients while he was sleeping with Hermione, but that was his old life. He was no longer a gigolo, and a part of him felt as if he was being unfaithful to her. But he needed this as badly as he needed Hermione. In the Pensieve memory he'd left for Hermione, he had given her permission to lead a new life without him. Who was to say if she had not already done that? Severus wanted to wait for her, but he no longer had the strength to deny his baser needs that would be willingly satisfied by this witch who wanted him now.

His hands grasped her firmly, crushing her to him. Strong arms pulled her to his chest and he kissed her back ferociously, devouring her like prey.

Maria nearly yelped in surprise in this sudden turn in Severus' disposition. She thought he would be the quiet and deliberately slow lover like she imagined, based on how he very carefully selected the mangoes from her table at the farmer's market. There, his hands would delicately slide over the ripe fruit, purposefully picking out the best one with graceful movements of his hands, but here he was now, as if he was possessed by some demon.

“Are you on contraceptives?” he asked breathlessly.

“Si!”

Maria had made sure of it, as she had planned to seduce Severus once she got Rainbow's owl. Rainbow had dropped a hint in her missive about this being an “opportunity,” but Maria was already ahead of her friend. She had taken a vial of contraceptive before Severus arrived.

“Bueno,” he growled into her ear right before he bit her neck a bit harder than he intended.

Maria's hands finally reached Severus' erection as they continued kissing. “Ai! La Sachamama!” she cried out, feeling his length and thickness. She was making a comparison of Severus to the magical boa constrictor of the Peruvian Amazon rainforest, an animal that could grow to enormous size.

She moaned as Severus kissed her like she imagined a “real man” would. Maria had only been with one other man, her husband, and he was very small by any comparison. Even Ron Weasley would have been considered well-endowed when compared to Maria's husband. Needless to say, Maria's husband had some issues when it came to the bedroom, often compensating with his abusive behavior.

The noises this witch was making were nettlesome to Severus. He was pretending she was Hermione, but this yammering in Spanish was completely ruining it.

Severus' hands roughly yanked up Maria's dress and unceremoniously pulled down her panties. Without preamble, Severus rose from the table, letting the sheet fall away from him. Pushing Maria up against the wall, hitching one of her legs over his arm, Severus positioned himself before entering her with little consideration for her pleasure.

She had wanted a fuck; Severus was going to give her a fuck, but for his pleasure, not hers.

Maria winced, never having had a man so large inside of her. The only thing that kept this experience from being painful was for the fact she had already given birth, and she wasn't as snug as she had been before the birth of Miguel. She thrilled at the sensation and screamed with pleasure.

She began chanting with each thrust from Severus as he had her pinned up against the wall. “Hoy! Hoy! Hoy!”

Gritting his teeth, Severus refrained from clamping a hand over her mouth. Shutting his eyes tighter, he focused on fucking her, feeling something warm and tight around his length.

In his mind, he imagined Hermione laying on his bed, her head thrashing back and forth, screaming his name.

He came, and without even caring if Maria had reached completion or not, he breathed Hermione's name as he finished emptying himself.

It wasn't that satisfying of an orgasm; it merely took the edge off.

Setting Maria's leg down, he withdrew from her and went to sit back on the massage table. He grabbed the sheet to cover himself once more, not wanting to be under any more scrutiny from this witch. If Severus had picked up the Muggle habit of smoking, he would have pulled out a cigarette and smoked one without even offering one to Maria. He hoped her curiosity was satisfied and she wouldn’t taunt him any further in the future.

“That's it?” Maria asked with disappointment, going back to English.

“What did you expect?” Severus said with little care that she was left unsatisfied.

Severus had prided himself on what a wonderful and considerate lover he was, giving pleasure to witches when other wizards could not, but he no longer cared. It was an empty act that only left him feeling hollow inside.

“Who is Hermione?” she asked, anger growing in her eyes.

“None of your business,” he said casually, as if he couldn't be bothered to tell her, even if he wanted to.

Maria was incensed. Picking up his clothes, she began throwing them at Severus. “I'll be sure to send you the bill,” she snarled at him.

“And how much should I add for tip? Or was my performance to satisfy your curiosity enough to compensate for any extra gratuity?” he threw back at her with a self-satisfied smirk.

Her look of disgust at the sheer gall of Severus' remark confirmed his suspicion that the island's other witches who were still in pursuit of him would soon lose interest, since gossip from Maria's lips would surely spread like wildfire. He had prided himself for years on being a sarcastic bastard, but rarely had to employ this side of himself since coming to Malu Palekaiko. However, it did give him some secret thrill to know he hadn't completely lost his touch, that he was not going too soft in order to be left alone where his heart and his cock were involved.

Maria stormed out of the small treatment office, slamming the door behind her. The one down side to this whole scene was Maria would no longer sell her mangoes to Severus anymore, which was a pity, because she had such nice mangoes.

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

A/N:

As always, a huge round of applause to my hard working betas who clean up my punctuation and grammatical mess. For this chapter, please give some love for JuneW and Cygnuz.

Yes, "The Ballad of Eòin and Maighread” is an original ballad composition of mine, I tried to incorporate a little bit of the Scottish language into it without making it too indecipherable. Here is a key to a few of the words:

gowden = golden
waefu' = woeful
gaed = went

If you wish to hear it read by a Scot with a heavy northern Scottish accent, then pop on over to the video I put together quickly and posted to YouTube: https://youtu.be/Qf74x2YptVs

This is read by Alastair Stephens, podcaster from StoryWonk, including the wonderful writing podcast, The Journeyman Writer: http://storywonk.com/podcasts/the-journeyman-writer/

You can also hear Alastair, who is Scottish, read Robert Burns' “To A Mouse”, the reading beginning at the 7:23 mark: http://storywonk.com/the-scot-and-the-sassenach-52-to-a-mouse/
The first seven minutes gives a biographical background of Burns,

I know, I know. “How could Hermione or Severus fuck anyone else but each other? Wah!” But look at this logically. No formal proclamations or marriage proposals have been made. Severus said to join him, but he didn't exactly say he would wait for her like a monk. Plus, he gave her permission to move on with her life without him. Nor did she say she would remain chaste until her apprenticeship was done. Each is feeling very vulnerable, and temptation came along. Even Neville fucked Hermione because he was missing Luna so much. And is he supposed to be waiting for Luna to sort out her head while he waits indefinitely after she broke off their engagement? No one is perfect in this fic. Everyone is flawed, just like in real life.

The inspiration for using squonks in this chapter comes from Genesis' “A Trick of the Tale” album and the song "Squonk." The song is based on the Pennsylvania legend of an animal so ugly, it is ashamed of its appearance. Once caught, the animal will cry until it dissolves into a pool of bubbles and tears.
Songwriters: RUTHERFORD, MICHAEL/BANKS, ANTHONY
"Squonk" lyrics ©EMI Music Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., IMAGEM U.S. LLC

Parapluie is French for umbrella.

I must acknowledge I ripped off the phrase “disco behemoth” from the show Ally McBeal when referencing Barry White. That phrase will forever be stuck in my brain when thinking about Barry White because of that show.

And if you haven't guessed yet, the movie Draco and Ginny saw in early August 1999 was Notting Hill, which came out in late May in the U.K. I figure they were watching a showing at the end of the run at the movie theater, going to a movie in hopes of few people attending and spotting them. “Ain't No Sunshine” plays during the movie, which is why Draco sang that song.

“Ain't No Sunshine” was written by Bill Withers.

White-tailed tropicbirds, Phaethon lepturus, are native to Hawaii and the South Pacific islands.

The legend of La Sachamama is as follows:

“The Sachamama is a boa constrictor of enormous size. Legend tells that as the snake grows and grows and grows it can no longer move through the jungle, so it searches for a swampy area to make its permanent home. As time passes, jungle trees, ferns, and flowers grow around and over the boa. It becomes completely camouflaged from view by people or jungle animals. At this point the Sachamama is said to be imbued with a magical, magnetic power to attract prey. As the poor, unsuspecting animal or native passes by, he is pulled into the boa’s enormous mouth and devoured."
http://www.peruvianamazon.com/folklore.htm
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After