On The Couch

Disclaimer: see first chapter

Chapter reread by Somigliana

Harry and Ron had never quite understood why they had to be burdened with Crookshanks’ company on their chase for the Horcruxes. The animal regularly disappeared, forcing Hermione to look for him for endless hours. They felt like they were losing precious time. What they never caught, however, was that she withdrew from conversation each time they spoke ill of Snape, and that it was always after one of their Snape bashings that they found Crookshanks’ fur balls in their sleeping bags. The cat was tempted to do something much worse; he just didn’t want his mistress to scold him.

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Crookshanks had the feeling that he had fulfilled his destiny. After weeks of secret meetings, thanks to his magical tattoo, his mistress was in the first stages of the mating ritual with the dark-haired man. From his point of view, on the floor in front of the couch, he could see their lips locked together; they sometimes parted a bit, yet their tongues didn’t subscribe to the idea of parting, and soon they were lip-locked again. They were both humming some kind of seduction song—a mix of human words, low rumblings and soft moans. Soon they would be one.

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Severus’ body and mind were on fire; kissing Hermione wasn’t like anything he’d ever done until now. The softness of her lips, the insistency of her tongue, the grip of her hands on his shoulders, his own grip on her hair and back, were all creating unknown sensations in him, sensations that he was half-afraid to name.

In the middle of this heated snogging session, his eyes met the cat’s ones. In a flash, he understood that the beast had set them up. He managed to nod in acknowledgement without stopping kissing Hermione, thus showing he wasn’t upset at all.

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This wasn’t the first human mating that Crookshanks had witnessed. It could nonetheless be the last; at his age, you never knew. He took a few steps back and went on watching how his mistress snaked her arms around the man’s frame, how she clung to his body. He heard the man’s virile moan of pleasure at the feeling of her young body seeking his.

“Hermione …” Half-pleading and half-longing, Severus tried to withdraw from her embrace.

“No, let’s continue. We don’t know if we ever will have another opportunity.”

From his spot, Crookshanks saw them surrender to their passion.

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They took their time, as if they would never make love again. Well, not enough time to leave the couch for a bed, but their movements weren’t hurried according to a cat’s criteria. The dark-haired man stripped his mistress himself up until her last piece of clothing. Some of it got caught in her fur, but nothing could deter the man’s mind to have her naked.

“Take your clothes off!” Hermione tugged at Severus’ shirt, distracting him from her rosy nipple. He complied very willingly, keeping his burning eyes on her, and soon found himself as undressed as she was.

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The next part was always a bit of a mystery to Crookshanks. Cats were very straightforward when it came to sex; humans needed to stroke each other with their hands and their tongues. His masters—as he was starting to think of them—weren’t an exception to this rule. Actually, they were acting as if they wanted to memorise the curves and angles, sweetness and bitterness, of the other’s body. They were still singing that song of seduction, much more loudly now than at the beginning.

After a very long time, at last, they joined. They never ceased to sing.