HermioneDiggory - Moon Chaser

The flesh endures the storms of the present alone; the mind, those of the past and the future as well as the present. Gluttony is a lust of the mind.

~ Thomas Hobbes

Gluttony

Severus lay sprawled on his opulent burgundy-and-gold patterned velvet duvet, staring fixedly up at the intricate play of light and shadows on his bedroom ceiling as the fire crackled away merrily in the grate across the room. The handsome antique teak grandfather clock had just struck 2:00 a.m. when Severus finally gave up on sleep and called down to the bleary-eyed, young kitchen elf on duty and requested a pot of Darjeeling and a tray of his latest creation for his extremely popular Sensuality line, a selection of luscious dark chocolate truffles in a variety of flavors and spiked with carefully crafted potions to allow the consumer to experience anything from a mild calming and inhibition-lowering effect for the painfully shy, to a sweet dreams truffle that, when eaten right before bedtime, would result in a vivid dream of one's beloved, to a specialty truffle that would induce intense arousal and incredible sensitivity for those desiring an exquisitely mind-blowing sexual experience.

When Severus had dined with Miss Granger earlier in the evening...a completely unexpected yet surprisingly pleasant experience to be sure...he had found himself toying with the idea of offering to share some of his exquisite creations with her before catching himself and inwardly reeling in shock, wondering what in the hell had possessed him to think of sharing the fruits of his inner sensualist with his former student.

And yet... the Miss Granger he found himself slowly growing to admire had changed a great deal from the rather plain yet deeply earnest young girl with a wild, golden halo about her head and the eternally waving hand. No, the formerly shy bookworm had blossomed into an attractive young woman. She was still Gryffindor honest and forthright to the core, but passionate, yes... He had seen a becoming fire in her eyes that brought out flecks of copper, bronze and gold that matched the full mane of curls that tumbled down over her shoulders and spilled almost to the beginning of her pert bottom.

Admit it, old man, Severus thought to himself, the girl...the young woman, rather...is quite unmistakably lovely. And she seems not to be completely averse to your sarcastic conversation nor to mind that you will never be a contender for Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award. So what is wrong with pursuing any possibilities that may come your way? Severus thought about that for a long moment. It had been far too long since he had let himself think of engaging in a romantic liaison with anyone, let alone a former student and Gryffindor.

Turning away from such unaccustomed musings, Severus reached over to refill his teacup only to discover his plate of truffles was surprisingly empty. There was nothing left but a few dark chocolate curls, bits of toasted hazelnut and the odd drop or two of fruit liqueur adorning his plate and his pajama top.

Severus groaned as he belatedly realized he had been mindlessly consuming astonishing amounts of his favorite foods of late, everything from innumerable plates of delectably buttery-flaky miniature Cornish pasties and deep-dish shepherd's pies to entire pints of black raspberry, fudge-swirl gelato with double-chocolate walnut biscuits and trays of his beloved dark chocolate truffles... Images of said gastronomic delights marched through his mind in a relentless parade of gluttony and brought to the forefront of Severus' bewildered mind a horrifically vivid mental image of Ronald Weasley blathering nonsense at the Gryffindor table at Hogwarts, his wide mouth crammed full of everything within reach of his monstrously long arms, sickening Miss Granger and everyone around him with an up-close-and-personal view of his half-masticated meal. Fortunately for Weasley, he apparently had the metabolism of a flock of hummingbirds, but, alas, Severus' middle-aged body would not emerge so unscathed.

Shuddering in utter revulsion, Severus steeled himself to face the inevitable consequences of his unthinking bout of gluttony. Gathering his courage, he stripped down to his boxers, then resolutely turned to face the full-body mirror on the wall and gazed for a long moment, contemplating the recent changes to his physique. Passing over the silvery web of scars that adorned his neck, a parting gift from the late and unlamented Dark Lord's equally late and unlamented reptilian familiar, Severus gazed with approval at his chest and shoulders, which were nicely muscular, but not overly so. As for his lower body... well, the legs and thighs were long, thin and reasonably well-toned, but he saw that what had once been the slightly concave curve of his belly was very much a thing of the past, and he found himself sporting the beginnings of a paunch. Still, he sighed in relief... so far, his body had not deteriorated quite as badly as he had feared.

Then he turned to the side to view his form in profile. And nearly keeled over in shock at the unexpected and highly unwelcome sight of his distinctly rounded, protuberant arse.

"Sweet Merlin's undershorts," he bellowed to the empty room, "what the HELL happened to my ARSE?"

Never mind that Miss Granger seemed to enjoy his company; one long look at his newly blossomed bum and the girl would surely laugh in his face and then run for the hills. No lovely, young witch would care to be seen on the arm of a portly, porky Potions master and former Death Eater. Well, he wasn't quite as far gone as that yet, he sighed with relief. He was not a Gregory Goyle, not even close. But if he didn't get himself and his ravenous appetite under control, he could give up contemplating any possibilities that might have existed with the shapely Miss Granger.

Then again, Miss Granger... Hermione... was nothing like his former love. Lily. Bright, beautiful, brilliant Lily Evans with the flaming hair and the heart of ice. Severus' jaw tightened as he remembered how even prior to "the unfortunate Mudblood incident"...as he privately termed it...he had caught Lily's gaze so frequently straying towards the wealthy, popular and damnably attractive utter bastard known as James Potter, would-be father of the Boy Who Lived, and his pet mutt, Black.

As a shy and sullen teen, Severus had tried very hard not to notice his pretty friend's distraction, but still, it had stung his fragile, young ego quite sharply. In his darkest moments, Severus forced himself to admit that the shining angelic vision of Lily Evans Potter that he had clung to for years was little more than a desperate, self-perpetuated fraud. He had long suspected that the mutt, Sirius Black, was Lily's true passion and first love, that the only reason Potter ended up with her was because Black knew his friend truly coveted the witch while Black was content in his ongoing attempt to sleep with every witch who would have him. In his pain and fury in the aftermath of Lily's betrayal, Severus had been tempted to blurt out his every last thought and suspicion on the subject of Potter's best friend and his fiancée, but the words stuck in his throat like cold treacle. He couldn't stand the thought of seeing the pain in Lily's eyes. Clearly she had not felt the same way about hurting him. Lily saw the brass ring of popularity and wealth that Potter dangled in front of her, and she seized it with alacrity, firmly placing Severus in her past and never looking back.

Miss Granger, now, though quite similar to Lily in some ways, was in others her polar opposite. She was far more brilliant and intuitive than Lily had ever been, but the most striking differences that set Hermione apart were her compassion and ability to forgive. Yet she was wasting her vast potential in her current position. She was the only student he had ever considered taking on as an apprentice, had the fates been kinder and allowed him to approach a Muggle-born Gryffindor with such a proposal. Even in his bad old days as the indisputably most hated and loathed professor in Hogwarts' modern times, Severus had reluctantly observed that, as she blossomed with the grace of maturity, Hermione never seemed to display the awe, the reverence nor the fawning worship for the traits of physical beauty and personal popularity, at least, not to the degree of most of her feminine contemporaries. The unfortunate brief crushes on that twit Lockhart and the callow, youngest Weasley male could be set aside as follies of the past and youthful inexperience. He suspected Granger had only hung onto her relationship with Weasley for so long out of a misguided sense of loyalty and friendship, but from their earlier discussion, he knew she was ready and willing to discover what she had been missing. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, he would be allowed to help Hermione discover her inner sensualist, just as he had discovered his own.

Should he be lucky enough to win such a prize as the lovely and accomplished Miss Granger, Severus reasoned, he could show her his idea of a romantic evening, and it would involve something much, much better than greasy fish and chips wrapped in newspaper and whatever piece of misbegotten tripe constituted a good movie in the opinion of Ronald Bilius Weasley, which would likely involve copious amounts of blood and guns, or footballers, or half-dressed women the boy could drool over and compare unfavourably with the unfortunate witch by his side. The young twit never could see what was right in front of his face, he recalled, trying to remember the name of the busty little chit the oaf had been seeing on the side... Violet, no Lavender... one Lavender Crabbe, formerly Lavender Brown. Yes, Weasley had dated her as a student... Merlin only knew how many times he had caught the indefatigably randy pair in various well-used nooks and crannies, towers and empty classrooms at Hogwarts. If he had a Knut for every time he'd seen Ronald Weasley's freckled, spotty arse, he would easily have been as wealthy as Lucius Malfoy long before he had become the premier designer and distributor of the finest quality potions in the international wizarding world.

No doubt the Weasley boy would make a fool of himself with a ploy to regain the witch's affections at some point, and with the nostalgia of longstanding friendship on his side, he might possibly get Hermione to reconsider her opinion. Unless Severus could manage to pull himself together, pull his famed Slytherin cunning out of mothballs and find a way to persuade the witch he was a worthy contender for said affections, preferably in such a way that she thought it was all her idea. After all, no worthy member of the house of Slytherin would enter blindly into an ocean of possible disappointment with nary a dinghy nearby to carry one to safety.

However, there was a certain... uncomfortable situation that required his attention before setting into motion any potential plans for romantic conquest.

Casting another glance at his disturbingly well-padded bottom, Severus sighed as he formed his agenda for the coming day. First, he would speak to the kitchen elves with regard to less calorie-laden alternatives when preparing his meals. Second, he would look into devising a more rigorous exercise routine for his planned exterior improvements and stick to said routine with sedulous zeal. Third, he would owl one Miss Granger and subtly inquire as to her plans for the upcoming weekend.

Hmm... Perhaps she herself might be the antidote to this wizard's middle-aged pudginess and the ultimate solution to getting his body back in shape, Severus thought with a devilish smirk.

Word count: 1940

Prompt words used: Cornish pasties, antidote, sedulous, exterior

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