Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 131968 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: Thank you all for being patient- this has been one heck of a week! Work kept me hoping like a maniac— and after a marathon of 20+ hour days I took a 2 day sabbatical to the beach. Hopefully the 17.4k word chapter makes up for it! I hope you’ll like where this is shifting. Marie— yes, we may revisit the red silk, I know exactly where it is and what it does I’m just not sure if I want to pull it into play. But thanks for asking! Thank you all so much for your continued support! I love the feedback, it helps fuel my creatively! Cheers!

                Saturday was spent avoiding him. Which for the most part she’d managed to do quite successfully. They’d only crossed paths once, when she was stepping back into her room after a shower and he stepping out of his room heading to it. The moment had been awkward, only because they’d both paused and looked at one another. Hermione had broken the gaze and moved into her room and that had been that. She lounged about on her bed, after quite the lie in, and even popped into Hogsmeade to meet Ginny for a spot of afternoon tea. With the prospect of having a night free ahead of her she almost didn’t know what to do with herself. When she’d woken that morning she’d felt ridiculous for crying herself to sleep but she realized that it meant two things. The first being that she was starting to get emotionally caught up in everything that was going on, and the second being that she was getting close to a visit from her Aunt Flo. The prospect of having to share that little bit of information with both George and Severus had been enough to put her off the idea of breakfast entirely. While she imagined that they both, especially Severus, knew and understood that a woman had a monthly cycle, she did not in any way shape or form relish sharing this bit of information with them.

                She tried not to think about the way she’d foolishly apologized, wishing that she hadn’t brought up the kiss. It had obviously been nothing more than what he had said it had been, them each caught up in a moment. Though when she returned back to Spinner’s End after a lovely afternoon with Ginny she found it was all she could think of. The way his lips had pressed against hers; such a different feeling from when he’d kissed her to mock her that first night. Though both kisses had involved his tongue in her mouth the one from the night before had felt genuine; filled with lust and need. There was something carnal and raw about it; the way he’d been so fully engaged without even realizing it. And it drove her mad, the more she tried to shift her focus away from it, the more the images and sensations of her memory came floating unbidden into her mind. Hermione was determined to think about something else and resolved herself to reading a book, but decided that lying alone in bed was too much of a temptation to let her mind wander, even with the pages of her favorite tome.

                The sitting room was empty when she entered, figuring it to be just half six. If he was home he was locked away in his bedroom. If he wasn’t home she had no idea where he was but she supposed she didn’t much care. Glancing around the room once more to be certain that he was nowhere in sight she grinned and dove onto the big squishy sofa, sinking down deep into its cushions. While he abhorred the patchwork velvet couch she was sure he’d disapprove of her jumping into it like a child. Spinning around to press her back into the back of it she paused, noticing for the first time a sliding glass door on the far side of the room. Had that been there before and she had somehow overlooked it? She supposed it was possible. But it wasn’t so much the door itself that had really caught her eye as it was what she saw through the other side.

                It was some sort of patio, or little space that led out into the backyard. And the man in black, seated out on it looking toward the sunset. Hermione rose from the couch a bit unceremoniously and crept toward the door. When she pulled it open she’d expected him to flinch or jump, but then she remembered that he was a former spy and had probably heard her long before she’d even approached. For a moment she just stood there, half in the house and half out, staring down at him. It was the most peculiar sight she’d ever laid eyes on. Severus Snape, though fully dressed as if he were about to teach a classroom full of Hogwarts students, sitting in an old wooden rocking chair, rocking slowly back and forth facing the sunset with his eyes closed as if he’d fallen asleep waiting for the sun to retire itself from the sky.

                She made to creep back into the house but his words stopped her. “If you’re going to interrupt you should learn to do so more quietly,” he muttered though his eyes remained closed.

                Hermione had decided that morning that she was not going to let him bait her into bitter responses and fights. She would not give him cause to throw her out nor would she sink to his level of sarcasms. “I didn’t know you had a patio,” she said quietly.

                “I am slowly running out of sacred places in this house to call my own.”

                It was another baited line. But she was determined to ignore it. She glanced around the little patio, just the rocking chair and a table beside it. No place for her to sit but she didn’t mind. Hermione pulled the door shut behind her and then slunk down onto the cement, leaning back against the glass. She stared out across the yard. It was fenced in with high wooden planks that were once upon a time brown. Weather and time had flecked away their paint and stripped them in places leaving them looking less than finished. Two trees sat in the far left corner of the yard, and an empty garden bed ran across the back of the fence. There was a derelict tool shed in the right corner and patchy grass the rest of the way across. Her mind briefly flickered over the possibility of stringing up a hammock between the two trees as summer would be coming in just a few months, but she realized in order to do that she would actually need to possess a hammock. Or a lot of rope.

                The evening breeze was warm on her cheek, peculiar for April as it was usually chilly with rain, but she didn’t question it. Hermione closed her eyes as she rested her head against the glass, the soft sound of the wooden rocker drifting back and forth in the breeze the only sound other than the wind itself. Her mind churned through the possibilities of all the different things he could be thinking about. What had brought him out back to the patio, had he been rocked to sleep in that chair as a young boy; so many things running through her mind. She opened her eyes and gazed at him from the ground, tracing the strong contours of his face with her eyes. He was older, she knew, but in the sunset he looked almost youthful, the bright golden rays seeming to melt away the years. And at the same time bringing them back to his hair; she noticed the slightest hint of silver in his onyx locks, just at his temple slithering back behind his ear. She supposed it was hidden away with the style in which he wore his hair, but it was enough to make her blush.

                He was an older man. She was sleeping with an older man, even if it was just for work. Someone who had been alive long before she had been thought of. It made her tingle and she forced the thought from her mind. There was no sense in getting excited about the fact that she was living with the man that she was working with and that their line of work also happened to involve sex. She was certain, given the way he’d treated her in his home thus far, that no matter how many moments there were to be caught up in, he would never see what they were doing as anything more than work. Hermione couldn’t wrap her mind around why she had suddenly started trying to see it as anything else. It wasn’t as if she were attracted to his body; that delicious body that only quivered in pleasure when he was absolutely forced to.

                She rationalized that no woman in the universe that found herself to be of the heterosexual persuasion would have been able to dislike his cock. Thinking about how long and thick it was, the way it filled her, and how easily he could ram it into her made her whole body ignite. And basking in the sunset with a warm breeze just made it heaven. Hermione’s mind was fantasizing about what it would be like if he were to have his way with her. The unrestrained passion that she’d only sampled in him; suddenly thrust upon her. It was a wicked dizzy daydream; him stalking into her room for purposes unknown, pinning her down beneath his body and devouring her mouth with his own. She shuddered and then quickly forced herself to think about the hammock she wanted to create in the backyard. Anything to take her mind off of the ridiculous notion of being taken by Severus Snape.

                But thoughts of the hammock only led to how they could easily get tangled up in it and how much give it would have as he was pounding into her, perhaps even in her ass. It thrilled and embarrassed her to realize just how much pleasure he’d given her by penetrating her backside; a prospect that before she’d begun working with him she’d considered crude, depraved, and perverted. Thinking on it now just made her thighs burn with desire to feel him again, filling her anyway he could. Hermione pressed her lips firmly together to keep any inadvertent stray sounds from escaping.

                She could just imagine her body pressed into the coarse netting of the hammock; her breasts and stomach baring cross-hatched marks from it as he would pound her from behind; filling her and making her squeal in delight until they would both topple out of the hammock and continuing fucking on the dirt below. Her body shuddered again, slightly harder than before and she forced her eyes tightly shut trying to push the idea out of her mind.

                “I would find other things to think about if I were you, Miss Granger.” His voice was cautionary and she gazed up at him wide-eyed. He was staring down at her with a curious yet peevish look on his face, one eyebrow quirked up inquisitively.

                “You—” she sputtered, her face flushing horribly red. “Were you reading— oh!” she cried in a huff and propelled herself up from the ground. Hermione stormed back into the house, certain she could hear him chuckling back out on the porch. She all but took the door to her bedroom off its hinges when she slammed it shut behind her. “Ugh!” she cried aloud flopping face forward down into her mattress. He had been reading her thoughts! How dreadfully embarrassing. Of course if she had just been able to keep her mind from being so naughty when it came to him, but he still had no business poking about in her mind. She was furious and intended to tell him just that.

                Hermione pulled herself back up off her bed and stalked to the door, throwing it open. “Oh!” she cried slamming right into his chest. “You!” she narrowed her eyes and then balled her up fists at her side. She had never been a violent person but something made her want to swing at him in that moment. As she made to strike she found both of her tiny wrists caught up in the air, clutched firmly in just one of his big hands. “Let me— oh!” she shrieked as he spun her around, twisting her wrists just a bit as he pulled her firmly back against his body.

                “Listen very carefully to me, Miss Granger,” his voice was so low that had his lips not been right at the back of her ear she wouldn’t have heard him. Hermione’s heart was racing; her chest rising and falling in quick gasps of breath that made her legs tremble. Had it not been for the way he held her back against his body she was sure the sheer shock would have sent her tumbling to the floor. He did not slacken his grip on her wrists, rather he twisted her arms down and back until they were pinned behind her, between their bodies. “I will not have your mind running wild, Miss Granger,” his tongue was practically snaking against the back of her ear.

                She whimpered; a sound that expressed so many things in that moment. A hint of fear, he had never lashed out in that manner before. A touch of fury, how dare he behave so brutishly? A bit of exhilaration; their bodies were pressed so close together. And arousal; it was impossible to deny how much being snatched up by him was turning her on. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, but that only made her feel him all the more. The way his hot breath radiated against her neck, his nose bumping against the back of her ear, the hand that was not holding her wrists now wrapped firmly around her waist. Hermione shivered.

                “As if I don’t have enough to contend with, now I have you underfoot and I will not have you thinking those sort of thoughts,” he growled. And then they were moving; her feet stumbling forward as he pushed her back into her bedroom without releasing her. Down onto the bed she went, momentarily freed from his arms. Hermione caught herself on her palms and scrambled around to face him long enough to see him ripping off his shirt. She was paralyzed. Severus without a shirt was certainly one thing but seeing him now, in her bedroom as he whipped the belt from his trousers made her tremble to the point of being able to do little else.

                She shrieked as he snapped his fingers, wordlessly vanishing her clothes. Her core was soaked; burning for him and her whole body quaked, eyes wide as he began to climb onto the bed, pushing her down into the mattress. The weight of him was nearly enough to make her come; just feeling the sheer heat and force with which he pinned her down. So intimate; so personal, and she was moaning despite herself. Severus bowed his head and captured a nipple in his mouth, nipping the pebbled bud of flesh and drawing forth a shriek of pleasure from Hermione.

                His hands were roaming up and down her body, touching her without hesitation, pushing her thighs apart and tugging at his trousers all in one motion. Hermione wriggled her hips, desperate to feel him, panting and squirming, whimpering and moaning as his other hand kneaded her breast. There was so much heat; her body nearly about to combust as he abruptly thrust himself into her. She cried out, her voice practically raw, feeling how tightly he filled her and the way he began to pummel her; hard and fast. There had been no foreplay; just his cock, ravishing her. She was mewling with each thrust; punctuating every inward stroke with an orgasmic cry that left her breathless.

                He was passionate, pumping into her in a way that she’d never experienced in the workshop; even when he’d had her in his bed to delicately take her anal virginity it had not been so consumed with lust as it was now. Her body was soaring with pleasure, so much skin on skin, his trousers somehow vanished leaving his bare body tangling with hers. She drew her legs up around his hips, drawing them even closer together, burning to melt into him. His lips were trailing away from her breast, suckling at her throat, hands everywhere. In her hair, on her body, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples and then there was a hand between her thighs, furiously rubbing at her clit as he continued to fuck her with reckless abandon.

                Every hard stroke made her moan; the way her walls gripped at him, trying to clutch his pulsating shaft, pulling him into her all the more. Her heart felt as if it might burst inside her chest; so hot and intense was her body. Her toes began to curl upward and she could hear herself keening; lips barely parted as she felt his tongue at the hot sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. Little jolts of pleasure pricked up and down her spine as he slammed even harder and faster into her; practically tearing her apart.

                “You shall not be naughty, Miss Granger,” his voice was close to her ear as her eyes rolled back in her head. “Miss Granger,” she heard him again and her body was practically on fire, near bursting. “Miss Granger!”

                Hermione was startled, her eyes wide as she glanced around. The bright orange light of the setting sun nearly burned her eyes and she winced turning her head to the side. Her neck was stiff and she could feel her body flushing. Severus was staring down at her from the rocking chair, his facial features looking less than pleased. And it occurred to her in that moment that she had in fact day dreamed herself right to sleep. She blushed furiously. She only hoped that her vocalizations from the dream had not been heard by him. He continued to stare at her for a moment and she bit her lower lip, and then crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. For a brief moment she worried that he was reading her thoughts as he had in her dream, but when he looked away from her she heaved a great sigh of relief.

                She shifted a bit, her legs tingling with the pins and needles of having fallen asleep in an awkward position. Wondering why he hadn’t just left her there she quickly realized that she was blocking the door back into the house. Standing with a little difficulty she hung her head. “Sorry,” she mumbled, receiving in return an annoyed sigh.

                “If I had needed you out of the way I could have moved you,” he said. “Or shaken you awake. Which I was going to do if you didn’t respond to me just now.” He paused a moment, turning his head to her once more. “You were crying out in your sleep…you sounded as if you were in terrible pain.”

                It shocked her to hear him say this, but she noted no extra concern in his voice, not even the slightest hint of interest; just a vague observation as if he were reporting on the clouds that had passed by while she slept. She supposed it was better that he had assumed her in pain; she would have died from sheer embarrassment if he had known that the cries in her dream were not from a nightmare, but from a savage sexual desire that had involved him. She was going round the twist and off her head all at once; daydreaming about the man and having full on sexual dreams that caused her to cry out. Hermione worried the petal of her lower lip between her teeth. “Must have been a nightmare,” she whispered, gazing down at him. “I’m going in for tea— you do have tea, don’t you?” she asked.

                That was a conversation they had yet to have. How food and things in the kitchen would work. Naturally she didn’t expect them to be cooking together or even sharing meals together, but she did want to know if there was going to be a strict break down as to what belonged to whom and so forth. When he didn’t respond right away she wondered if perhaps the dreaded answer to her question was no— that he was not in fact in current possession of any tea, but the more she thought about it the more absurd she realized it was. He was English; of course he had tea. She waited patiently for him to respond and when she’d made it quite clear by her lingering presence that she was waiting she repeated herself. “Well?”

                A long sigh left his lips. “Top cabinet near the stove, though don’t go mucking about take whatever’s easiest to reach,” he snapped and left it at that.

                The question should have been what sort of tea didn’t he have. The man could have easily opened his own herbal shop given the vast variety that was stored neatly in tins that filled the cabinet. They were stacked and layered on a tri-tiered lazy Susan that filled the entire cabinet. She’d settled for a lavender jasmine green blend and then put the kettle on. Had she had the foresight she would have asked him where the mugs were, but remembered that there had been one in her steamer trunk. It was easier to just go and fetch her own rather than banging about in the kitchen, tiny as it was. Though she supposed eventually she would have learn where he kept everything.

                The sun had sank down into the night when he finally came in off the back porch and she couldn’t help but wonder if he often sat watching the sunsets. Not as of late at the very least as they’d been spending their evenings in the shop, but before he’d fallen into the employ of George Weasley but after the war; a time where there was peace, or a semblance thereof in his life, she wondered. Hermione knew that during the war her own life had not warranted time to take in such simple miracles as the sunset; it had merely been a marker of time, the sun was going down and so another day had passed. But now, as she thought on it, having an evening to watch the sun sinking down into the horizon marked time in a different fashion.

                She’d sat at the table sipping from the mug of tea, fiddling with a crossword puzzle book that she’d found in the attic at The Burrow. This book in particular had a myriad of hard puzzles with mostly muggle clues from a few years back, many of which she had no idea how to answer. When he stepped into the kitchen she hadn’t expected him to speak or even really stop and acknowledge her. But he stood there, staring at her for a long moment, looking contemplative. She met his gaze with curiosity, holding her tongue. “A sight that never in my wildest imagination would I have believed a possibility let alone an actuality,” he nodded at her. She watched with a surprised interest as he relit the flame on the stove and placed the kettle back atop it.

                It was his kitchen, but she had not figured that he would stop and fix tea whilst she remained there. Hermione had no intentions of getting up just because he wanted to make tea, though he hadn’t said anything other than that her presence was beyond his wildest imagination. Which she supposed, the more she mulled the notion over in her head, was much beyond her own vivid mind. To be living under the same roof as Severus Snape was preposterous. It had been different when they both dwelt in the Hogwarts Castle. 700 other students and a good handful of faculty, ghosts, portraits and house elves had kept them from ever having to encounter one another outside of the classroom, save of course for the odd spot of trouble in which she and her friends had often found themselves. Here at Spinner’s End it was a completely different story. Close quarters, not even as big as the Gryffindor Common Room had been, sharing a kitchen and a bathroom; things were very different from Hogwarts.

                If she’d been surprised when he’d made himself a cuppa, she was stunned when he sat down opposite her at the table. At first she didn’t know what to say. It was an unnerving situation. Him sitting just across from her, slowly sipping his tea, her with a half-finished crossword puzzle on the tabletop in front of her, nearly empty cuppa just beside her hands. The silence was what did her in, not so much his presence, but she had always been comforted by talking, though she had never been fond of small talk. “Might I ask you something?” she said after what felt like an eternity.

                “Does that question count as the something?” he said flatly.

                While his tone and general dismissive behavior was irritating she realized that she was quickly growing accustomed to it. She hadn’t even been in his house a full week yet and already she was learning the tones of his voice and ignoring them. He would not bait her into fighting nor bristle her feathers with his acerbic tongue. Hermione took a final swallow of her tea and then pushed the mug aside, gazing across the table at him. “When you said before that you didn’t particularly identify with one sexual preference or another, did you say that because you don’t find yourself being drawn to one more than the other or because you simply don’t find yourself to be sexual?”

                She was prepared for a litany of insults, and a thorough reminder that it was none of her business. So when he remained silent, simply holding her gaze as she held his, Hermione began to squirm slightly in her chair. It had been foolish to ask, she realized a bit too late, but her mind’s curiosity was not so simply sated. And he had, albeit half-heartedly, agreed that getting to know more about him might be a good idea. The silence between them seemed to settle in her stomach, creating a great deal of churning and whirling, making her feel uneasy. As if at any moment he might launch into a vocal tirade or worse, suddenly become inexplicably physical as he had in her dream. Though the latter option sent a shiver of a very different variety up her spine.

                “Genders as they are constructed in society hold little meaning to me,” he started. It was a simple statement, emotionless, toneless, factual. “When it comes to men or women it might be said that I see no difference,” he paused a moment, taking a drink from his cup. “Woman, man, it matters not they are essentially the same, an orifice is an orifice.” The look of abject shock must have registered on her face for he was then quirking an eyebrow and continuing. “That is not to say that I will simply stick my prick into anything, I do draw the line at humans and humanoid species, Miss Granger.”

                It was a delicate situation, a bit like having anti-matter swinging by a single filament in-between the walls of its container; fascinating yet apocalyptically destructive. She was drinking in his every word, her brain not fast enough to process it all. Her mind was a whirling dervish, trying to think on which species were closely enough related to humans that he might also consider having relations with, though she found the further down that curious path she traveled the more tingly her nether bits were getting. “Are you pansexual then?” she asked but then frowned. Hermione shook her head. “Though I suppose that’s a ridiculous thing to ask.”

                “Why is it ridiculous?” his tone was no more or less meaningful than it had been moments before, his eyes still gazing at her. Though he seemed more intently focused. She wondered if he was as curious as she, though she very much doubted it. Hermione surmised in the back of her mind that he was deriving some great joy from making her uncomfortable, even if his face remained impassive, everything about him looking completely neutral. Save for his eyes, which were swirling with an endless depth of emotions that were completely unreadable.

                His question had caused her to flush slightly; the heat of her embarrassment gently trickling into her cheeks and giving her face a soft pink color. Hermione swallowed and then slowly stood from the table. Plucking up the strainer she poured herself a second cuppa tea before settling back down. The heat radiated through the ceramic into her palms as she clutched it closely between her hands. She took a sip and then leveled her eyes to his once more. “Pansexuals crave touch and contact.”

                Severus scoffed slightly. “There is much more to pansexuality than simply craving contact, Miss Granger,” he said. For a moment she had expected the conversation to end. But when he spoke she found herself listening with rapt attentions. “A person whom identifies themselves as being of a pansexual nature finds attraction be it physical emotional or sexual to a myriad of people outside the simple gender binary. Cis-gendered as well as transgendered individuals, inter-gendered individuals and those that are androgynous.” He paused a moment, his eyes holding hers carefully. She realized that as she listened to him talk, even though he was doing so as if he were lecturing from his days as a professor, that the slight dampness between her legs was quickly spreading into a lagoon. She had to get a handle on the way he affected her or just living in his presence was going to drive her bonkers.

                “And you don’t find yourself attracted those sorts of people, but don’t identify as a bisexual either?” Again her lips had been moving without her mind to censor what came out of them.

                He paused and Hermione assumed that her question had once again brought about an end to their little conversation. Naturally he was bound to have a breaking point and if he overall state of perpetual irritation when it came to her was any indication she was certain he was just about past it. But after another dreadfully uncomfortable silence he spoke. “I would not say that I am not attracted to such people, simply that I have not encountered them.” She noted the way he shrugged his shoulders; the slightest of gestures but a shrug just the same.

                “And if you were to come across someone who was androgynous? Or inter-gendered?” she heard herself asking, half disbelieving that they were actually having such a conversation. Sexuality, and its orientations thereof, was an incredibly intimate subject matter on which to be talking. Especially with her former professor, who was now her current housemate and work partner. Hermione couldn’t deny how fascinating it was to learn this things about him, every word being stored away in the back of her mind for further analysis at a later date. But she was certain that at any moment he would say he’d had enough of her chattering and her inane questioning and send her on her way to her room. Or get up and leave her at the kitchen table with some snide parting remark.

                “I suppose I wouldn’t know until I came across such a person.” His voice was indifferent. And it fascinated her to no end how casual such a statement could be for Severus Snape. She realized just in thinking his name that there was so very little she actually knew about him. His words cut through her thoughts, startling her but only just so. “Is there anything else, while I find myself in this unusually giving mood?” he asked, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

                While she could feel her cheeks turning scarlet once more she didn’t want to waste the opportunity. He’d said it best, his sudden mood of wanting to share information was indeed rare and there was no telling when it might surface again, if at all. So she tried to think carefully before speaking. “You’re particularly unresponsive—” she bit her lower lip. “That’s not entirely true, I suppose what I’m getting at is you just…you’re very restrained…” her voice trailed off realizing that it wasn’t so much a question as an observation. “Why do you hold back?” she asked finally.

                At first he did not answer and Hermione worried that she’d over stepped. Of course the whole conversation was one giant overstep into his personal space, toeing the line of boundaries with a fine breaking point waiting just under every question. When he spoke she felt silly and a bit more than embarrassed. “For the same reason one would assume you do, Miss Granger. Such an intimate experience of pleasure can be quite embarrassing when expressed aloud.”

                She had worried the petal of her lower lip between her teeth, biting down so hard she was sure to draw blood, but spoke quickly once he’d answered her. “I don’t try to hold back…just, erm, hide it, I suppose,” she felt her cheeks burning even more red than they had been but moments ago. “You’re different— you’re forcing yourself not to— I mean, it’s different. I’m just trying to be discreet…” though her face flushed all the more when she said that, realizing just how not discreet she had been when the cosmic stars from the penis paint had practically sent her over the edge howling in the workshop. “You—”

                “I maintain a modicum of professionalism?” he offered, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. “It is no small effort on my part, a fact which I am certain you will oh so plainly point out to me. Another one of your observations, no doubt.” He paused and drained the dregs of his teacup. “However, I do not find the workshop the appropriate place for such behavior, we’re being employed to test products of a sexual nature for their functionality and novelty purpose, not for our own personal pleasure.”

                His response floored her. Was it really just such a clinical thing for him? Just a job? Though she supposed that it was exactly that for her as well and that thinking otherwise was not only absurd but beyond reprimand. She forced her gaze level and continued to look into his eyes. “But there are times when you—”

                “I’m not infallible, Miss Granger, after all I’m only a man,” he said with a simple shrug of his shoulders. He rose from the table and rinsed his mug in the sink, returning it to the cabinet once he’d dried it with a worn tea towel. Severus leaned back against the sink, arms once again crossed over his chest, staring at her. It was the most casual stance she had ever seen the man take; and although he still looked intimidating in a sense, she realized that he also looked comfortable. At ease in his own home, as a man ought to be in his house, no airs or pretentions about him just a simplicity that reminded her of the truth of his statement. He was just a man. Her lips were pursed to speak but he raised his hand and shook his head. “Whatever else it is you’ve gleaned enough about me for one night, I think.”

                Her lips pouted but then she spoke. “I was going to ask do you find me attractive,” she countered. While it hadn’t been her initial question it had been close enough. And it was something that she found herself craving the answer to, even if it was foolish to want to know. After all they were not lovers and she merely found herself sharing his home for the convenience of it all. He had proven more than satisfactory during trials at the workshop so whether or not he found her sexually appealing was truly of little consequence.

                Her question had caused him to straighten up. And her spine went rigid as he stepped toward her, standing now at the side of her chair an inch between their bodies. She was forced to crane her neck upward to look at him properly, her heart racing inside her chest as she did. “I believe, Miss Granger, that you’ve asked a question which bears no answer.” He paused for just a second before continuing. “If I say no, surely it will wound your self-esteem and perhaps give you performance anxiety, a complication that I would care not to have to deal with in George Weasley’s Workshop. And if I say yes, you’re bound to concoct in your head that I have some latent desire for you that I refuse to pursue because of our current working situation. Another circumstance that I do not find myself eager to experience.”

                Hermione shivered when his hand brushed a mass of her curls back from her face. She’d felt his touch more than a dozen times, and in far more intimate places than the side of her cheek, but in that moment he made her lungs tingle as she held her breath waiting for him to move away or say something further; anything but hover just alongside of her. Every hair on the back of her neck was standing straight on end, her arms covered in gooseflesh as he leaned his head downward so that his lips were just near her ear. “You mistake me in assuming that I do not crave physical contact…” his voice was a whisper that sent a jolt up her spine. She closed her eyes and found herself leaning her head forward, the heat of his breath practically beckoning her to do so. Severus touched the backs of two fingers against her cheek, tracing the subtle curve down to her jaw before removing his hand and straightening up. She practically whimpered in protest at the lost contact. “Judging from your reaction and by your poor definition one might accuse you of being pansexual,” he muttered.

                She flushed furiously then, her cheeks burning scarlet and not just because she was mortified at the way she had responded to him. His touch; that gentle caress had left her reeling and it had been barely more than a slight sweep of his digits against her skin. He’d spoken; words or something about pansexuality, and then she realized he’d addressed her. “Oh!” she bowed her head and then quickly looked up at him again. “N-no, I’m not er…I’ve never found myself attracted to another female.”

                He didn’t speak for a long while and Hermione could feel her heart still racing in her chest. It was ridiculous; his close proximity setting her off as it had. She forced her mind to focus. Pushing herself out of the chair she found herself standing quite close to him and swallowed hard as she met his eyes once more. She parted her lips to speak but her breath hitched in her throat as his slender finger pressed against her mouth. “There isn’t always a need to speak, Miss Granger,” he said. Severus trailed the finger slowly across the curve of her cupid’s bow and down to the slightly swollen petal of her lower lip before pulling his hand back and then taking a step back from her.

                It wasn’t until he’d disappeared down the corridor to his bedroom that she’d even noticed he was no longer touching her. Hermione’s head was spinning and her heart was still pumping quite fiercely. She mentally chided herself for responding to him as she had; and then she rinsed her mug and headed to her bedroom. Only she found that when she was standing in the hallway between his door and hers, with his slightly ajar that all she wanted to do was enter his room. There was no rhyme or reason motivating her, not a scrap of logic to be applied to the situation. And for several moments she stood in the hallway debating about whether or not to be bold and invite herself in. Hadn’t he been subtly hinting that he craved contact? And that he couldn’t tell her he found her attractive because it would insinuate them into a situation that he didn’t find appropriate? Or had she merely been over thinking everything he’d just said as she usually did.

                The door pulled inward, startling her, and his presence appearing in the doorframe made her gasp audibly. He was donned in just a night robe, the fine black hairs that sprinkled his chest peeking out from where the robe was tied together. His legs were bare and she swallowed hard, wondering if he was completely naked beneath the garment. She had been staring without realizing it and when his eyebrows quirked high on his forehead she quickly adverted her gaze.

                “The way you stare, Miss Granger, one would think you’d never seen a man wear a night robe,” he muttered and then brushed beside her, their bodies touching for a moment as he padded casually to the bathroom, entering it without closing the door behind him. Was it another invitation or was he simply being blasé and trying to bait her? For a moment she stood rooted to her spot, unable to think or move, her body so paralyzed by the sight of him. But then her courage seemed to seep in, flooding through her like a wave and she was quickly following him to the bathroom, slipping in behind him in and closing the door. It was madness. Either she was about to experience something insanely inappropriate and wildly sexual or she was about to be thrown out on her ear, possibly even displaced from his home altogether. But something was pulsing in her gut; a lusty need that seemed to drive her to take the chance.

                “You are bold, Miss Granger,” he said casually, his back to her as he fiddled with the faucet in the tub, adjusting the showerhead up a bit. He turned to face her, arms crossing over his chest as he did. “What do you want?”

                She felt very much vexed by his simple question for she had nothing but a dozen complicated answers. Though she couldn’t think of a single one that would end well if she spoke it aloud. Hermione bowed her head for a moment before glancing up to meet his gaze once more. The shower was running hard behind him little tendrils of steam curling their way around his body; the image it created giving her pause. How yummy it would be to see him completely naked, soaked by the shower with his hair wet and clinging to his neck. She quickly chased the image from her mind while trying to find her voice. “I…”

                “Any other time you seem to find words a plenty with which to eat up my precious silence…” he shook his head and then turned his back to her, a half-hearted dismissive wave in her general direction signaling that he was through with the unfinished conversation.

                “A blow job…” her voice was meek, her words tremulous as she spoke them. But it was enough to make him pause, his frame going rigid as he slowly turned his head back over his shoulder meeting her nervous gaze. “You said— and you know that I’ve never— I just don’t want to fail at it, so perhaps I could— well you could…could show me?”

                His heavy sigh filled the room. “If nothing else you are persistent, Miss Granger.” His hands were in front of him, moving to undo the tie of his robe, the fabric going slack as he began to shrug out of it. “But I shall have my shower first.” Without another word he let his robe slide down his frame and stepped into the steamy running water.

                Hermione, not knowing what else to do, backed out of the bathroom, feeling dreadfully embarrassed. She tucked herself away in her room, curled up on her bed, with her back facing the door. Her body was still humming with a strange sensation; arousal mixed with terror and she didn’t quite know how to handle such a feeling. Her thoughts were deep and brooding as she lie there, trying to organize her mind, silently praying that he would leave the shower and ignore her foolish request. Though a part of her knew that it was practical, and another part of her desperately wanted more of his touch, regardless the capacity. Most of her wished she was someplace else and that she hadn’t been so stupid as to open her mouth.

                When the gentle knock resounded on her bedroom door she shivered. Squeezing her eyes shut tight she uncurled her body and slowly sat up on her bed, facing the door. “Come in.”

                Severus pushed the door open and stepped into her room, closing it behind him. She was surprised that he donned his robe, though she hadn’t really expected him to arrive stark naked to her room. Aside from his damp locks and the faintest hint of soap in the air he looked no different than when he had stood in the bathroom before his shower. She did her best not to look nervous as he approached her. He stopped, standing just in front of her eyes gazing down at her. “This is not something I have ever had to teach,” he said.

                Hermione wondered if that meant he was as nervous as she was. Though if he was his body didn’t let on, he looked as calm and collected then as any other time she had seen him. She understood the basic concepts of how such an act worked, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t placed her mouth around him and tasted him the other day when she got a bit overzealous. But the notion of how to perform fellatio with accuracy, to bring a man to release, she wasn’t certain it would be as easy in practice as it was in theory. And that made her stomach churn wildly, threatening to leap up through her throat and out of her mouth. She held his gaze, the lower petal of her lip pressed tightly between her teeth, worry etched clearly into her features.

                His hand reached slowly forward and he cupped her chin. Severus pressed his thumb against her lip and with a little pressure she stopped biting it. Hermione could feel her body trembling, and she wished she’d changed into something other than her day clothes. She couldn’t imagine that she too would need to be naked for such an experience, only her mouth was needed, but at the moment she felt stifling and uncomfortable. Her eyes must have belayed her terror because he rolled his eyes at her. “Stand up and take your shirt off.”

                Her mind couldn’t fathom it, but her body was more than willing to obey and she found herself up on her feet slipping her arms out of the sleeves before she could protest. She stood before him in her bra and her jeans, knickers already damp and sticky just from thinking about what was about to happen. The little gesture he made with his hand caused her to flush as her trembling fingers reached behind her to unhook the clasp of her bra. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her topless before; hell his mouth had been plenty intimate with her nipples from their very first day in the workshop. But this was different. He was in her bedroom, the room in his house that before three days ago had never existed. And he was wearing nothing but a thin night robe, having her slowly undress herself.

                Hermione yelped, surprised when he placed both hands atop her shoulders, bringing their bodies together before sliding around behind where she stood. “You are far too jumpy, you’ll close your throat off or bite and I won’t have that,” he said his voice calm and even. “You need to relax, Miss Granger.” She heard the depression of his weight on her mattress, her back now to him, her body exposed. “Pull that mop up off your neck and sit here on the bed.” She glanced over her shoulder to see him patting the space between his legs. Thrilling jolts of terrified excitement raced up and down her spine, shocking her core, causing little gushes of heated moisture to further soak her knickers.

                It took her a moment to gather up her hair in a messy bun of frizzy curls but she stabbed it with an elongated quill pen, perching the bun precariously high atop her head. “Is that alright?” she asked, her voice timid.

                Severus didn’t seem impressed though he didn’t roll his eyes either. “It’s out of the way, it will suffice.” He nodded his head to the space where he had indicated she should sit and then held her gaze, waiting. Her steps were even more timid than her voice had been, each one that brought her back to the bed making her quake inside so fiercely that she was sure he could feel it. What was he going to do to her? Hermione sank slowly down onto the mattress, just barely resting her weight on it at first, but his large hands were on her hips just at the edge of her jeans and pulled her down and back a bit more firmly, causing her to gasp. “Relax, Miss Granger.” He repeated and then slowly let his hands glide up her back until they were resting atop her shoulders.

                “Ooh…” she moaned, her neck and shoulders stiffening as he pressed both of his thumbs into the notches where her shoulder blades met, fingers digging into the flesh atop her shoulders. He began to knead at her skin, working his fingers up and down, his thumbs pressing hard into her back. “Why…ooh…” she moaned again, her head falling forward slightly, her jaw going slack as she felt him applying a forceful pressure just at the base of her skull.

                “Do not think that this is Snape’s house of massage, Miss Granger, however with as tense as you are you’re liable to choke or bite and make this a nasty experience for everyone involved.” His hands continued to stroke and grip the slender column of her neck, working up into her hair with the pads of his fingers and then slowly all the way down to the space between her ribs and her pelvis. His thumbs worked each notch of her spine, Hermione leaning further forward and becoming a loose pliable mass of flesh beneath his ministrations. He was rough, but not brutal; forceful but not painful and she could feel the heat radiating from his palms and fingertips directly into her skin, shooting through her body and straight to her core. She moaned every time he struck a knot, working with an even more intense pressure to undo the tension that she carried.

                She’d all but fallen over herself, breasts pressed against the tops of her thighs with her eyes closed when his hands stilled against her back, palms still touching her. It had felt wonderful and she didn’t care why he’d decided she needed it. Her mind was goo, sludgy and slow as she tried to wrap her head around the notion that he was quite skilled with his hands and seemed to know more than a thing or two about massage. His hands were now gripping the sides of her body, easing her into an upright position. When her head leveled out and she was gazing forward once more she noted that he had climbed up from behind her and was once again standing in front of her. “Focus, Miss Granger,” he said, placing one hand on her shoulder.

                That voice; slippery like oil, which would have been the only conceivable way to make that massage more intense. But it held a note of command and she found she was compelled to obey, wondering if his voice was somehow enchanted with something similar to the Imperius curse. She wondered if he knew the effect his voice could have on people, and somewhere in the back of her mind suspected that he did. She gazed up at him, realizing how close he was standing to her, with his hand still resting atop her shoulder and she nodded her head. “I am.” Her voice was scratchy, low and almost lusty and she could feel the slight hint of blush coloring her cheeks when she heard the way she sounded. Hermione no longer noticed that she was topless, though her nipples protested the chill of the room by stiffening defiantly.

                Severus did not speak at first. He took her hands in his and held them for a moment before placing her fingers just at the front of his robe. “You should be comfortable with your partner,” he started, his voice low but steady. “Know your limitations and know when to back down, there is no sense in trying to be overzealous if it’s going to end in discomfort or injury.” The ease he had created within her with his massage was slowly seeping out of her as he spoke; always so clinical. She held his gaze waiting for him to speak again. “Undo the tie on my robe,” he said, eyes never leaving hers.

                Hermione’s fingers felt thick as if they’d fallen asleep or had never before attempted a dexterous task. They fumbled over the delicate material of the tie for several moments before finally managing to undo it. The sides of his robe fell easily away revealing his body to her. She’d seen him bared before, even felt him pressed against her when he’d taken her in his bed, but her breath still hitched in her throat when she found herself face to face with his naked figure. He was not unattractive, though she tried not to think about the strong muscles of his thighs or the way his pubic hair was still manicured into the shapely lightning bolt. She hadn’t suspected that he’d be completely flaccid and it unnerved her just a little to think that he had such control over himself that he could touch her as he had when seated behind her and it have no effect on his body.

                “You really are an open book,” he muttered and tilted her chin up with a single finger. “Your face practically spells out every thought that is racing through your overworked mind.” His lips curled into a faint smirk as she blushed. “Try not to look so disappointed, it won’t help you learn anything if half the work is already done for you.”

                She nodded her head and tried to keep her features as passive as his face, but knew that would be impossible. She couldn’t just shut herself off the way he could, though she made a mental note to request a lesson on that at some point in the future. Hermione’s fingers still trembled as he guided her hands forward, placing her palms flat against the front of his thighs. He stood with his feet parted slightly and then stepped forward, bumping his knee against hers. He pushed her legs apart, now standing between them, his pelvis just at her face. Her bed put her at the perfect height, sitting up straight brought her mouth just level with his cock. She bit her lower lip once more but quickly released the petal when she noted how he stared at her.

                “You’ve already helped yourself to my release in an over curious attempt…” he trailed off, making reference to the way she’d captured the tip of him in her mouth when he came the previous day in the workshop. It made her blush thinking about it, even more so when she remembered what she had whispered to him after tasting him. “So it should not come as a shock to you to do it again.” He nodded at her and then braced a hand on her shoulder.

                Hermione for all the world could not fathom how she should begin. It seemed simply enough, press her lips to his shaft, or maybe his tips and lick him, take him in her mouth until he was hard and go from there. But the prospect of it paralyzed her, her eyes wide just staring at his member. His voice broke her whirring mind apart and her eyes drifted up to his once more.

                “It’s not Ancient Runes, you know,” he said and then placed one hand on the side of her face, slowly guiding her cheek forward. “Start simply,” he whispered, one finger gently stroking the side of her jaw. “Take the tip between your lips and circle it with your tongue.” Hearing him speak sent a shiver racing down her spine and her legs twitched feeling the pulsation between her thighs. But she complied, slowly bracing one hand against the coarse hairs of his thigh, the other curling around his shaft to bring the head against her lips.

                “You’re circumcised,” she found herself saying, lips pressing delicately against the tip of him.

                Severus raised an eyebrow upon his forehead, gazing down at her. “And you are just now noticing this?”

                She could feel the sting in her cheeks, despite her lips being pressed just at the tip of him. Her hand remained curled around his shaft, already feeling the slight pulsation of him growing erect. “I…” she licked her lips and cleared her throat. “No, I just hadn’t thought to mention it before. R—” she bit her lower lip and blushed harder. It wouldn’t do to bring up Ronald Weasley, certainly not in front of him and especially not when he was naked and attempting to instruct her on how to provide oral pleasure. “Really hadn’t thought much about it, just seems,” she shrugged her shoulders. And then her mind was rolling in triplicate trying to figure out what it fascinated her so. Perhaps because most English wizards were not circumcised, though she only had Ron for comparison. And Viktor, though she’d only ever touched him inside of his trousers, not really seeing him. The stories she’d heard from other girls always seemed to involve a delicate handling of the foreskin. Hermione couldn’t wrap her mind around the notion that he in fact had none.

                “It just seems?” he said, echoing her unfinished sentence.

                Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know…nevermind,” she closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly; forgetting that her hair was pinned up as she tried to hide the fact that she knew she was now scarlet in the face.

                “Unorthodox, perhaps,” he said, the hand that had been stroking her jaw now sliding back to cup her cheek. His thumb began to press circles just behind her earlobe and she nodded her head, though whether in agreement with him or because he was pushing on some pleasurable pressure point she couldn’t be sure. “I assure you the reason is not noteworthy and if it isn’t going to bother you going forward—”

                “Oh no!” she cried and then bit her lower lip. “I mean, no, of course not. I just— surprised is all. Didn’t really have much time to notice in the workshop.”

                “Indeed.” He said without ever taking his eyes off her. She was once again looking up at him, meeting his gaze with her own, feeling very small under his intense stare. Aside from the fact that he was looming over her with his now semi-erect cock still encased in her hand, the tip near her lips, she felt inferior, the woeful student about to fail before his very eyes. But she listened intently as he spoke. “Take the tip into your mouth, the underside is sensitive, and use your tongue for stimulation.”

                His instructions were specific and she wondered if this was a technique that could be applicable to all men or specifically for him. Though she imagined most men who were not circumcised might have a much less sensitive underside. Hermione closed her eyes, drawing the tip of him between her lips once more. The head was spongy and felt a bit like rubber. She inhaled; the sensual musk that was his own personal scent invading her nostrils just as it had the day in the workshop. Only this time he wasn’t pulling her away or insisting they move on to whatever it was George had waiting for them. There was no George. They were alone; in her bedroom, she topless and he naked save for the robe still draped over his arms. She could feel him stiffening in her hand and after tenderly flickering her tongue against the underside of his head she pulled back and gazed up at him, as if seeking approval.

                She noted that his face was, as it always was, unreadable. If she were doing it wrong she would have had no physical indication from him. The same could be said if she were doing it right, and so she waited for him to speak, hoping that he would at the very least simply continue on and that she hadn’t done something to displease him. A miniscule part of her silently begged for praise; the unyielding urge within her to always be doing a good job momentarily surfacing. Hermione gave his now rigid shaft a slow squeeze, something she had done in the workshop before, and watched as his chest rose and fell, slightly off-rhythm. She hid her smile by bowing her head.

                “It’s a start,” he said and then slowly raked his fingers back along her jaw and up into her hair, threading one hand into the loosely restrained curls, keeping her head steady and level. “You’ll want to pull your lips in over your teeth,” he paused and then drew his own lips into his mouth, a brief visual demonstration before he spoke again. “Keep them firm when you suck the head into your mouth, you don’t have to maneuver your tongue too much, it will naturally move about and you’ll feel it as you do.” He paused and then added. “It is important to only take in what is comfortable, as your backside well knows I am large and I shan’t have you choking on your first attempt.”

                She supposed it was a kindness, having heard the tales of how men liked to roughly fuck the throats of women until they were gagging and sputtering. The clenching feeling of a gag reflex was supposedly one of the most intensely pleasurable feelings for a cock; all hearsay as far as she was concerned. Hearing him say that he wanted her to be comfortable was a comforting relief and slightly endearing, though she knew better than to take it as such. If anything she knew he was only ensuring that he didn’t end up injured in the process of her gauche attempt to give him head. But she couldn’t keep her mind from wondering if he had had previous experiences with choking, perhaps some strapping man shoving his cock down Severus’ throat turned him off of the idea.

                Hermione felt his hand slowly guiding her head forward and she pulled her lips over her teeth as he had instructed. Taking him between her lips with her other hand still curled around the base of his shaft she guided him into her mouth slowly, sucking against his shaft until he filled her mouth. Between her mouth and her hand she had most of him well covered, the rounded head of his cock now pressing slightly against the back of her throat. She quickly pulled back, gasping for air.

                Severus stroked his thumb against her temple. “You need to breathe through your nose or you’re likely to asphyxiate yourself,” he said, the tender stroking now more of a circular motion as he drew her head forward once more. “In and out, your head bobbing forward slightly.” She heard it then, the slightest hint of a crack in his voice and she wondered if he would lose control while trying to instruct her. That eager curiosity drove her to try again, this time pulling him into her mouth more quickly, sliding her lips up and down his length, bobbing her head as he had said.

                She had been surprised that he was right about her tongue; it moved naturally around the cylindrical shape of his shaft as she pulled him in and out of her mouth. He tasted warm and slightly salty; the velvety texture of his skin hardened by a rigid steel beneath; an impossible sensation to describe. And the scent of him drove her wild, making her thighs quiver, her core gushing little squirts of liquid heat, knowing just how it felt to have that very same cock filling her in other areas. Hermione could feel his body rocking slightly, the way he was breathing indicating that she must have been doing something right. A streak of courage flashed through her and with his cock still in her mouth, her head bobbing, she looked up, watching the way the lines in his face creased. His eyes were closed, though his hand remained guiding her head back and forth, taking just a bit more of him into the heat of her mouth.

                “This is the basic motion,” he whispered, his voice lower than before, slightly gravelly. And she couldn’t help it as her lips curled into a little smile around his cock. She was clearly having an effect on him and she liked that very much. His other hand threaded into her hair, one hand now on either side of her head, guiding her forward, controlling the pace without forcing his cock into her mouth. She imagined that if he so chose he could have his way with her, fucking her mouth as he pleased in her current position; but she was grateful that he seemed content to simply guide her head back and forth. “Take your other hand and stimulate my balls,” he said, his voice cracking again. “Gently, cupping, rolling, squeezing, you don’t want to be rough.”

                Hermione was filled with a giddy pleasure; being told how to touch him, how to pleasure him, it enthralled her. She slid her hand down his thigh and underneath his shaft, lifting the weight of his sac into her palm. He was heavy, and felt heated in her hand and this made her moan softly. She had no idea that so much pleasure could be found in providing him with pleasure. Her fingers worked over the delicate sac, rolling him in her palm and doing exactly as he had said, fondling and squeezing with a light touch. She was rewarded with a grunt, the sound of his resolve cracking a bit more.

                “You’ve proven yourself adept at performance,” his voice was a bit more ragged than before, his hips gently bucking forward against her face, his cock now pistoning in a firm rhythm into her mouth, though not too deeply, his hands clenching around the sides of her head to keep from going too far. Hermione could feel her body heating, her core craving touch, though she dared not move either hand away from him to touch herself. “The key is getting a man to release, which if you know your partner shouldn’t be difficult.”

                She wasn’t sure if he meant that she should use what she knew of him to trigger his release or if it was just advice in general. But she decided in that moment to be bold, the hand that had previously been cupping the base of his shaft now slinking down between his parted thighs. A single finger stroked across the flat plane of skin between his balls and his ass and she felt him shudder, a deep moan pinched off by his clenched jaw. Hermione continued to bob her head, tightening her lips as her tongue swiveled around the head of his cock. She was daring; that same finger now pressing and gently wriggling against the taut ring of muscles that puckered between his cheeks.

                This motion seemed to cause him a great wave of sensations as the grip in her hair tightened, almost uncomfortably and his thighs began to tremble. She could feel his sac, still being rolled in her other hand, starting to draw up; the telltale sign that his release was imminent. Moving her head a bit faster, with her finger now stroking at his pucker, she pressed the tip of her finger up into him, earning her a deep groan, unrestrained and wildly carnal sounding to her ear. His muscles clenched tightly against her finger; the heat intense as she curled her finger inward and upward, stroking against the swollen spot inside of him.

                His hands seized her head, forcing her to stop her bobbing motion and she felt his whole body shudder, accompanied by a deep growling groan. She knew it had been coming and she’d inhaled just as his cock shuddered, the head of his erection pressed halfway into her mouth. The same slightly bitter hot seed that she had tasted before came shooting from his tip, filling her mouth as he quaked. And she drank him back feeling him coming hard, filling her mouth with his release. Hermione breathed in through her nose as she swallowed, the salty taste lingering on her tongue. His fingers were pressed firmly into her scalp, his body rigid as he came. And then she could feel his torso leaning slightly forward against her forehead, the soft hairs below his naval tickling her eyelashes.

                Hermione was gentle as she swirled her tongue around his shaft, noting how he jerked back when she brushed the softening head of his tip. His cock was wet as it slid from her mouth and for a moment she rested her cheek against his lower abdomen. She could feel his breathing, harsh and heavy as he recovered, the wickedly delicious sound having been her only real warning. She could still taste him on her lips and tongue, licking her cupid’s bow out of habit. Wide eyes gazed up at him as she slowly pulled her head back and waited for him to say something.

                For the longest time his hands, which had fallen from her hair, rested against her shoulders. Severus stood drawing in breaths to calm himself, eyes still closed. Then he carefully drew his robe around his flaccid member, hiding himself once more. When he opened his eyes she nodded to him, an eager look in her eyes, curious and waiting. He sighed. “It was fine, Miss Granger.”

                While it wasn’t the praise she had hoped for at least he hadn’t said she was rubbish. She couldn’t allow herself the smile she wanted, but nodded at him instead. “Thank you,” she whispered. Hermione longed to reach out and grab him, to pull him down onto the bed atop her, and feel his lips upon her skin. She wanted his hands and his lips between her legs, hell she didn’t even mind waiting for his body to regenerate enough energy for him to fuck her; but she knew that was as likely as him thanking her for the service.

                “Remember that post orgasm just like your bits become sensitive…” he nodded at her.

                Hermione blushed. It made sense, after all, and seemed to justify why he had jerked back from her when her tongue had begun to swipe at the head of his cock after he came. She nodded her head and then stood up. This brought their bodies quite close together, her nipples brushing against the thin fabric of his night robe. She had a thousand questions to ask, a thousand things she wanted to beg of him, but could not find a single one that seemed appropriate. And so she stood with her eyes gazing up into his, their bodies practically pressed together.

                She expected him to step back or push her down into the bed, but when he just stood there, staring at her, Hermione’s skin began to prickle. It was a fine line that she found herself standing on. Hormones and emotions running high and her body overcome with lusty need. Her head leaned forward as she pressed up on her toes, her lips brushing the side of his mouth. “I…”

                The hands that were threaded into her hair caused her breath to once again hitch in her throat, her heart beating so fast that it threatened to thump right out of her chest. Her head was pulled back, though gently, and she found herself staring into his swirling black eyes. “I think it best if you retire for the evening, Miss Granger, lest we find ourselves caught up in another one of those moments.” And then he stepped back, releasing her hair. It was like a shot of ice pelting through her as she watched him nod at her and then disappear from her room. The sound of his bedroom door shutting shattered whatever it was she had been feeling and she fell back onto her bed.

                Hermione forced her eyes shut so that she would not be tempted to cry. There was something wicked and cruel about the way he’d left her, hot and bothered once again without release. But also something insane about how tempted he had been. The way he’d said it, lest they— not she, but him as well, were to be caught up again. It made her smile despite herself, though she tried very hard not to think on it as she drifted into sleep.

~*~

                Sunday had kept them apart until they’d left for the shop, unintentionally together but together nonetheless. He didn’t speak to her, except for when she asked him things, like whether or not he would make room for her in the medicine cabinet behind the enchanted mirror in the bathroom. He hadn’t out right refused her but he also hadn’t agreed to it either. She tried to keep her questions to a minimum, knowing that they were irksome and that for the moment she was living there under his good graces, if such a phrase could be applied to someone like Severus Snape. No one mentioned the blow job, and certainly not the moment afterward. The moment she had taken to referring to as ‘the almost moment.’

                Hermione had grown used to solitude and quiet, three months without a proper home had left her wandering the streets in the hours of daylight, after she’d given up hope of ever finding work, and often slumming it on Percy’s couch well after he’d turned in for her nights. So Severus’s silence didn’t bother her nearly as much as she had thought it would, though she still craved answers; particularly to why he continued to refuse her if he found himself so easily swept up in what he kept calling ‘moments.’

                It was his indifference and general annoyance at her presence that bristled her. If he was so incensed by having her in the house why insist she stay at all? The flimsy excuses of how she was only going to impose herself on him for future nights had made sense at first, but the more she thought about it the less it held together as an actual reason. But it wasn’t something she was certain she could bring up without risking being thrown out on her ear. Especially not after the way he’d lingered that extra moment in her room.

                George had been particularly thorough that day and a busy bee at that. With Charlie’s return to The Burrow, he’d enlisted his older brother to mind the shop for the whole of Saturday so that he had been able to spend time tinkering and adjusting various things in several of the products that they’d already tested. He’d even set out the nipple creams for sale and had been overjoyed to tell them that by the close of business on Sunday they had all been sold.

                They’d retested the D2— George having fixed and strengthened the sleeve, this time with the phallus in her anus— and he was satisfied with the product as a whole, even if Hermione preferred the unyielding plastic in her vagina so that Severus’ thick cock could penetrate her backside. She had not explained that part aloud when giving George her overall assessment. It had been a night of gracious fucking, the Lustipops coming in handy as he had them re-test each of the Hogwarts House condoms, all of which had had adjustments made to them, some more major than others. The Ribbed-Ravenclaw had received all of its ribs and had nearly rubbed Hermione raw from the intense friction it created within her, and the design on the Hufflepuff-Happy had been tweaked just slightly so that there was only one garish smiling face at the end of the condom— which did not break when they retested it. George had even tinkered with the light absorption charm in the Glow-in-the-Dark-Gryffindor version making it glow much brighter with an even shorter amount of light exposure. He had even added a slight green tint to the Slippery-Slytherin just for the hell of it.

                When they’d returned home Sunday evening he’d arrived before her and was kind enough to hold open the door, though she knew better than to read too much into it. Once inside the house he departed from her company at his bedroom door, shutting it without so much as an uttered ‘goodnight.’ Hermione was getting used to his peculiar manner of cohabitating with her; the silences and occasional stares he would cast in her direction. Though she couldn’t interpret them she tried not to think of them lest her thoughts wander to places most unsavory. And by unsavory she meant erotic. The dream of him having his way with her; ravishing her, from the afternoon she’d fallen asleep on the glass door out at the patio still haunted her and while she had not repeated the dream she’d had similar both Saturday and Sunday night.

                In the first dream she’d been in the shower when he’d torn into the bathroom and pinned her savagely to the wall, tangling his hands in her thick curls before fucking her wildly with the hot spray pouring down over them. In Sunday night’s dream she’d been lying in her want-to-be hammock out between the two trees in the yard when he’d sprung upon her and fucked her with reckless abandon until they’d rolled out of the hammock and onto the ground. Both dreams had disturbed her sleep and left her sopping wet; shivering with need and rubbing her legs together so forcefully that her muscles cramped under the strain. Hermione was certain she was losing her mind; such filthy dreams reminding her once again of Ginny’s bodice-ripping romances. Only there wasn’t some rogue Scotsman tearing at her corset on the edge of a jagged cliff overlooking the sea; it was Severus Snape, the emotionally stunted, brooding and generally foul-tempered ex-Potions Master. And current colleague. And he wasn’t at all tearing at anything other than her nerves and her patience, though she supposed when she considered it he probably felt the same way about her; at least the irritated part.

                What she wouldn’t have given for him to have given into his baser urges; urges that she was slowly discovering he did indeed possess, however much he tried to ignore them, repress them and overall pretend they didn’t exist. Anal pleasure, and being restrained, the chill of the clouds and the way his body had responded after she’d rode his cock whilst his limbs had been spread and bound, and the way she’d insinuated her finger up into him to stimulate his prostate during her fellatio lesson; all of these little things had cracked his resolve just enough for her to notice that he was a man. A man with needs; sexual needs even if he did his best to keep from admitting as much.

                Coming to the shop Monday evening brought on a series of surprises that nothing in the world could have prepared her for. She’d departed just after Severus but upon arriving she found the shop to be empty and when she’d made her way up to the workshop she was even more perplexed. Neither Severus nor George were anywhere to be found. It wasn’t until she’d started poking around in the boxes left on the table that she found the note, clearly scrawled in George’s sloppy hand.

                We’ll be working up in my flat tonight, found an entire new line that might just blow you away! Can’t properly test it down here in the shop because of spatial constrictions, come up when you get here, the flat’s open. ~G

                It left Hermione dumbfounded. But she took up her robe, changing into it before ascending the stairs to his flat. Once inside she was surprised to see two things. The first being that George appeared to have cleaned the place, or at the very least vanished the vast amounts of mess that she had seen there previously. And the second was that Severus was seated in one of the armchairs, wearing only his robe, looking rather sour. “That good?” she said, approaching him cautiously.

                Severus rolled his eyes. “Quite.”

                What on earth he was eluding to she hadn’t the faintest, but reckoned they’d know soon enough. She couldn’t fathom what they could possibly need to test that wouldn’t fit down in the workshop but would fit up in George’s flat. This left her mind whirring, so much so that she didn’t see George appear from the little hallway that led back to the two bedrooms and bathroom. “Oi, Hermione, glad you’re here!” he said with a grin. “You can both follow me,” he said and then disappeared back down the hall, ducking into the bathroom.

                Hermione frowned, glancing nervously at Severus. He shook his head, which did little to quell her nerves, but she followed George, with Severus close behind her, pausing in the doorway of the bathroom. It looked nothing like it had when she’d been in his flat a few days prior. And Hermione couldn’t stop staring. The bathroom seemed impossibly large, a deep brass tub surrounded by square bricks against one wall, and a rounded pool like tub, very similar to the one in the Prefect’s Bathroom, just in the center of the floor. There was an elongated panel of glass across one wall, various showerheads attached at intervals along the tile, beneath some of which were oddly placed planks and stools. “George—” she began.

                “Given the way magic and plumbing work it was just easier to modify what was already here rather than trying to create a whole series of waterworks down in the shop.” He seemed quite proud of his handiwork if the large face splitting grin was any indication. Hermione’s stomach was doing more than flipflops as she took in the room. All the while Severus remained quiet, which as far as she was concerned never boded well. “So, in case you couldn’t guess,” George’s giddy voice disrupted her thoughts. “I’ve found a line of sexual bath products tucked away in a cupboard in the workshop, and got so excited that I decided we just had to test them straight away!”

                “Bath products?” her voice was weak, the color draining from her face.

                “Oh yeah,” he nodded to the counter near the sink. A square box covered in blue bubbles and yellow rubber ducks took up the entire counter. “Loads of neat stuff, it was like hitting the jackpot at three a.m. when I found it.”

                “Joy,” Severus muttered. It caused Hermione to snort, which she covered by coughing into the back of her hand. Not that her colleague ever seemed overly pleased with anything in the workshop, but it made her feel a bit less uneasy to know that he was less than thrilled with the prospect.

                “I almost didn’t even know which one to have you try first,” George started, pulling his stool and little scroll desk into an unoccupied corner. He waved his wand over the ledger, presumably some sort of repellant coating to keep it from getting wet. “And it seems that most of these just have vague notes on what they’re meant to do…” Another thing that made Hermione’s nerves unsettled. The last tragic encounter she’d experienced had left her furry and she had no desire to repeat such an incident. “But it’s bound to be good fun, who doesn’t like shower sex?”

                Grateful that his question was rhetorical, Hermione carefully approached the box as if its contents might leap out and bite her. Peering inside she was surprised to see mostly bottles and things that looked as if they actually belonged in a bathroom, though she wasn’t fooled. The various sponges, beads, and rubber ducks were no doubt toys of sexual perversion. Hoping that she was starting safe she plucked up a bottle that appeared to have hands popping out of the plastic all across its surface. “Wonder water?” she said reading the little handmade label.

                The sound of George flipping through the pages of the ledger filled the room and Hermione snuck a glance at Severus. His face was impassive, as usual, his stature rigid, his arms crossed over his chest. She imagined that he was as thrilled with the prospect as she was though far less nervous. Her fingers felt heavy as she unscrewed the lid of the bottle and gently wafted it toward her nose, knowing better than to directly inhale a mystery product. But as far as she could tell it was odorless. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not.

                “Says here,” George began, reading from the ledger. “Wonder Water will make your bath time experience simply wonderful. Pour into tub and let Wonder Water work its magic. Feel the wonders of the water in ways you’ve never felt before. Enjoy solo or with a partner, two or more.”

                “That’s it?” she asked. George nodded his head. Hermione sighed. She glanced first to the large tub in the floor, which was filled with water already. Then her eyes meandered over to the large brass tub against the wall. It could easily hold both of them fully submerged. It looked more like a tub and less like a Jacuzzi style tub, which was what the pit in the floor resembled. With George’s nod of approval she held the bottle over the empty brass tub and tilted it onto its side, watching as water poured from the mouth of the bottle. The moment the water hit the edges of the brass tub it seemed to multiply, filling the volume much quicker than she could have imagined and after just a few seconds of pouring the tub was completely filled, nearly to the edge, with steaming hot water.

                Turning the bottle upright she screwed the cap back in place, it still felt very full. She handed the bottle back to George and then looked at Severus. “Are we meant to get in together? Or do you think we should go one at a time?”

                “One at a time would probably be best,” said George who was already frantically scribbling away in the ledger.

                Hermione kept her gaze on Severus, not daring to glance back at the tub full of steaming enchanted water. She was about to speak when he beat her to it. “Ladies first, Miss Granger.” She wanted to retort with some quip about youth before beauty but realized that it was hardly applicable. Feeling ever like the guinea pig, she slipped out of her robe and stepped toward the tub. Lifting one leg up and into the water, she groaned upon feeling just how hot it was.

                It wasn’t unbearable, the exact opposite in fact. It was pleasantly steaming, the sort of temperature you wanted to melt away all the troubles of the day. And she moaned again as she lifted her other leg and slowly lowered her body fully into the water. It enveloped her skin unlike any water she had ever felt; almost as if it were alive somehow, and could sense which areas of her needed more easing than the others. “Oh this is bliss…” she mumbled, her eyes falling closed with a lazy sigh. “It’s like being touched everywhere all at once…” Hermione shrieked, her arms and legs splashing about, her moment of pleasurable bliss disrupted as the sensation of a hundred hands swept over her body. “Bloody hell!” she cried.

                George looked alarmed. “What is it?” he asked, leaping up from the stool.

                The water appeared to be moving, pulsing and surging all around her as if it were moving of its own volition. Hermione’s face slackened after a moment, the look of alarm melting away into one of comforted pleasure. “They…it felt…” she mumbled and then arched her back. “Just surprised me is all…” she said, her tongue rolling languidly in her mouth. She could hear George once again scribbling in the ledger and opened one lazy eye to gaze at Severus. “You should join me…this feels amazing…” she whispered, her voice husky and low. “And it did say enjoy with a partner.”

                Strong massaging sensations began to permeate her body, as if the water knew exactly how to penetrate her skin for maximum feeling. Her thighs fell apart, the wonder water rushing between them and she groaned. It felt like dozens of little slippery hands stroking her in all the right places. She was mewling and arching her hips, desperate to feel more of the strange water as it pleasured her. Gazing down at her torso she gasped at the sight of some invisible force tugging on her nipples, pinching them taut, each sensation making her moan as she writhed beneath the surface of the water. Her tongue loosened a good deal as the water continued to splash over her in waves, each moan growing louder, her body thrashing a bit harder as she did. “Oh…fuck me…” she groaned.

                Hermione cried out, her body going rigid for a moment, her eyes wide. The penetrating sensation had happened so suddenly that it was almost painful, causing both George and Severus to rush to the side of the tub as she yelped feeling her body beginning to buck against the water. But after a moment she was gibbering nonsensically, her hips thrusting widely against this invisible force in the water and her head was thrown back, hair floating along the surface being tugged in every direction. “Ooh…ooh!” she cried, her thighs trembling. “It’s…I’m…ooh!” her whimpers were shrill and piercing as she felt the slippery force pumping in and out of her trembling core. She couldn’t find words to describe it. Being fucked by water was unlike anything she’d ever felt before but it was quickly bringing her to a heady peak. “Oh gods!” she cried, feeling her whole body collapse in ecstasy as her climax overtook her.

                She shuddered violently and collapsed back into the water, her head falling under for a brief moment and when she surfaced she was a quaking, gasping for breath. Two strong arms were tugging her up, gripping her under her armpits and before she realized it Severus had hoisted her out of the tub and was draping a towel around her trembling figure. She was soaked from head to toe and unsteady on her feet, pitching forward against his frame. His arms drew around her and held her upright though he did not let her go. “Sorry,” she panted and then let her sopping wet head fall against his chest.

                “Hermione did you just— did that—” George was flabbergasted and mostly speechless, blushing as he stared at her mouth agog. “Did the water just fuck you?”

                For a moment it was all she could do to draw in breaths while leaning against Severus’ frame. His arms felt comforting around her back and she tried not to think about how he was technically hugging her. The orgasmic experience in the Wonder Water had been so intense and unbelievable that she could scarcely bring herself to her senses. The hand that was slowly moving up and down her back caused her to stir and lift her head, her eyes wide with confusion as she gazed up into Severus’ eyes. “Are you alright, Miss Granger?” he asked his hand still sweeping slowly up and down her back.

                She didn’t trust her own voice enough to speak so she nodded her head and then pulled herself back from him. He had felt so comfortable, his strong chest beneath her head, the perfect body to cuddle against post orgasm. Hermione quickly chased that thought from her mind as she tried to steady her breathing. She pulled the towel around her, feeling chilled and then turned her head to George. “I don’t even know what to begin to say.”

                George, who still looked a bit embarrassed, was turning the bottle around in his hands. “I’m almost hesitant to have you both try it after watching…well, that,” he said gesturing to the tub of water. It was completely still, guised as ordinary water. He moved over to it and with his wand drawn he blasted a spell in the general direction of the drain, looking satisfied as the Wonder Water swirled down out of the tub, leaving it once again empty. “But I suppose we should.” He handed the bottle to Severus. “You two together, I can imagine it would have the same effect on you…” he nodded at Severus’ crotch. “And well…watching one was enough,” he blushed.

                Hermione was still convinced that George was harboring a secret crush on Severus Snape. If only he knew about the man’s sexuality the way she did. It brought the ghost of a smirk to her lips, thinking about how George might cream his trousers if he thought he could be buggered by Severus’s mighty cock. And then she pushed the image from her mind; knowing full well what it felt like to have that thick pulsing rod of velvety steel pulsing between her cheeks, filling each orifice to the hilt. She bit her lip and suppressed a groan. “You really think it’s safe for both of us?” she asked after swallowing back a moan at the prospect of feeling that intense water with him joining her in the tub.

                “I don’t think you’re going to drown, Hermione,” George said and then pulled the stool a bit further back from the tub. “I’m just curious to see how it responds to the both of you…it does say for use with a partner,” he reminded her. She nodded and then looked at Severus, waiting for him to refute the idea.

                But he simply moved over to the tub and unscrewed the bottle of Wonder Water, filling the tub as quickly as she had. He did not hesitate, though he did not move with any sense of urgency either, as he slipped out of his robe and handed it to George. Severus lifted one leg up over the brass lip of the tub and hissed when his foot made contact with the water. She watched as his frame went rigid for a moment before he drew up his other leg and stepped in. It took him a moment before he eased his body down into the brass basin, submerging himself up to his neck, the ends of his silky fine hair dancing across the water’s surface. “Come along, Miss Granger,” he said, his jaw clenched as he spoke. She could only imagine what sort of effect it was having on him as she approached the tub.

                The way he was leaning back against the end of the tub made it easier for her to climb in. Hermione sank back as he did, their legs nestled against one another as their backs rested against opposite ends of the tub. Her toes curled absently against the joint of his thigh where his leg met his torso and she sighed; a contented sound as the water began to touch her as it had before. If he was getting any enjoyment from it she couldn’t tell, his face as passive and stony as ever. She was easily drifting off into a sated state, her toes wriggling and curling against him. His hand clutched her foot and she gazed at him, uncertain as to whether she had been tickling him or annoying him with the movement of her tootsies.

                “Don’t you feel at all relaxed?” she asked. But if his tightly clenched jaw was any indication the answer to her question was clearly no. Which meant that it probably was in fact very relaxing for him except he was going to try and ignore it and remain stoic and unmoved. That prompted her to be mischievous. Hermione sat up and leaned forward until she was resting on her haunches, her knees sinking to the bottom of the tub on either side of his legs. He narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing as she moved forward and let her bum drag across his thighs. It was immediately apparent just how badly the water was affecting him, his erection standing rigid as she settled herself over his lap. “Do you think it’s safe to fuck?” she asked.

                “If you want to give it a go, it’s probably a good idea,” said George. He was looking determinedly down into the ledger but kept sneaking furtive glances from his periphery in their general direction. Hermione smirked a bit and then slowly began to rock her hips back and forth against his lap, watching the way he clenched his jaw.

                “You’re going to break your teeth if you keep clenching like that,” she whispered and then leaned her lips against his ear, feeling his whole body go stiff. “I wonder what it would feel like…” she trailed off, letting one hand rest on the surface of the water. “To be filled and have you be filled while you fill me…” Even though she whispered it, her words seemed to have an effect on the Wonder Water as it immediately began to slosh about. She braced both of her hands suddenly on his shoulders feeling invisible hands beneath the water lifting her hips up and then pushing her body down onto his cock. Hermione groaned feeling the way he filled her. Even fully astride him she was still submerged in the water up above her breasts and it felt like heaven.

                It was like they were being moved by the water; his hips being drawn up to fuck her as hers were pushed down. And then she cried out, her voice cracking in ecstasy as she felt the water pushing apart her cheeks, pulsing at her anus. Hermione forced her eyes open, staring at Severus, whose eyes were now screwed tightly shut, but there was no mistaking the way his face was screwed up; pleasure written into every twisted wrinkle of his features. The way his body undulated beneath her gave her the distinct impression that the water was pushing its way into his ass as it was hers. And suddenly she was filled; with him in her quivering womanhood and the Wonder Water pumping in and out of her tightly clenching ass. The sensation was bliss and she began to moan.

                There were hands suddenly tugging in her hair and she realized that he was clutching at her, pulling her head close to him, her lips brushing against his ear as he panted hot and heavy. There was no effort on her part or on his, her hips moving forcefully up and down his length, his hips bucking up into her, the water seeming to do all the work while simultaneously filling them. It wasn’t like it had been with the phallus and his cock; this was different, more surreal but twice as pleasurable. She couldn’t help herself as she began to kiss the side of his neck, her lips desperate for contact.

                For all the world if he minded he didn’t protest, his fingers still raking through her hair as he panted against her neck, his lips hot against her skin. She was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to kiss him; to feel his tongue tangling against hers in her mouth. Hermione was moaning, hearing the soft grunts that he couldn’t contain as she brought her lips to his. His hands kept in her hair and he did not resist her when she kissed him; their tongues meeting with a fervent need. She could feel her body nearly tearing apart with the insane amount of pleasure. Tiny pulses were echoing against her clit and invisible fingers were tugging at her nipples; sensory overload as she rode him and the water fucked her ass. She could feel his chest rising and falling heavily against hers and then suddenly his hands were around her back, clutching her closely to him. Their lips broke apart and his head fell forward against her shoulder as he growled his release spilling hard and fast up into her.

                Hermione was bucking wildly atop him, the little sensations tweaking at her clit moving that much faster as if they could tell she was close. A strong upward stroke of the water inside of her sent her careening over the edge, whimpering and shuddering as she came, collapsing forward against him, her chest heaving to catch her breath. The water did not relent when she came and she was certain they were both going to drown but in the background she could hear George firing a spell at the drain and within seconds they were quivering together in the empty tub basin.

                She didn’t want to move, her body spent from a second intense climax. But the chill of the water’s absence was making her quite uncomfortable. It took her a moment to untangle herself from his limbs, and as she stood she realized he was standing with her, his arms still firmly wrapped around her back. “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice sounded strained but he looked as if nothing had happened.

                Nodding her head she waved her hand a few times before she was able to summon both of their robes, handing him his as she slipped into hers. “That’s some…it’s…”

                “Orgasm in a bottle,” George said. “If you two— er…well I mean, it looked like it was as wonderful as it said it would be.”

                Hermione nodded her head sheepishly, noting that Severus said nothing as he drew his robe around him. She knew that if she brought it up later he would simply state they’d been caught up in a moment, this time he could even blame the intensity of the product they’d been testing. She tried not to worry over it. “Do you mind if we take a minute, George? I’m not sure my body can take another orgasm like that.”

                He blushed but shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah that’s fine, though I think I might switch to something a little less…intense, though I honestly had no idea that was going to do…well, that.” He said. “Do you want a chair or something?”

                “I’m going to take a sit on your armchair out in the sitting room if you don’t mind,” she said and drew her robe tighter around her frame, walking past him.

                “Yeah, take five or ten, whatever you need,” he said and then began to write in the ledger.

                Hermione slipped out into the hallway and moved over to the armchair, all but collapsing into it with a great heaved sigh. She would have to do better than that if all the products in the new bath time box were designed to feel that good.

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