Chapter 07
Chapter 7 of 11
ladyofthemasqueYou know what they say about a woman who prefers to live with her cat…
ReviewedVII.
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Climaxing in his trousers had been embarrassing, but to strip off those same trousers, that was far more intimate to Severus' way of thinking. After the humiliation of being stripped at wand-point of the few clothes he could afford in his fifth year, he had taken care to keep himself as fully clothed as possible. Reducing himself to shirtsleeves around Hermione had taken a greater deal of courage and trust on his part than she had probably realized. Now she wanted him to strip himself nude, baring his ugly, imperfect body...and the semen trying to glue his pants to his skin.
Part of him wanted to stop at the top of the stairs, to block her path, to tell her in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to do this. Part of him also reminded Severus that he had licked himself as a cat in her presence. He had tried not to lick his genitalia in her presence, at least, but he had performed personal hygiene under her watchful gaze. Part of him also reassured himself that it was better for her to see his ugliness now, so that she could hopefully get used to it and accept it before they became more intimate. Or, if she chose to reject his bony, sallow body, it would give him a minor reprieve of sorts; being rejected during a much more intimate and fragile moment would be far worse to endure than stripping for a simple shower.
They reached the main bathroom. There was a nicer master bath...by Muggle standards...in the master bedroom, but that room was still Aunt Eumenia's. Some of her belongings had been removed, sent to other relatives, but it still needed a thorough emptying before the place would begin to feel inhabitable. Muggles couldn't become ghosts, only wizarding kind, but their presence could still linger in one's mind. Severus didn't even know the woman personally, and he felt the room had to be emptied and remade before it could be theirs.
It made him think, as he let her close the bathroom door behind her, that they shouldn't occupy that room until it and they were ready for marriage. Or at least, they shouldn't be deeply intimate until that room was ready for them to claim. Until then, they would either sleep as human-and-cat, or in separate rooms.
Hermione cleared her throat, waiting for him to begin. Shaken out of his thoughts, Severus drew his wand out of his sleeve, setting it on the toilet tank lid, then unbuttoned his shirt cuffs. He could do this, if he blotted her presence out of his mind. Since she fell silent once he began to move, he focused on unbuttoning the front of his shirt. With his back to her, he could pretend she wasn't even there. Just an ordinary shower, on an ordinary day...just a shower, nothing more...
It worked to the point that he unbuttoned the top of his trousers and freed his shirt. Unfastening the last button, he shrugged out of it, wadding and tossing the shirt onto the counter next to the sink. The touch of her hand on his back shattered his concentration, however, freezing him in place. He wasn't alone...and she was touching him, touching his naked, bony back, of her own free will. Sliding her hand up the length of his stringy muscles of her own volition.
Severus discovered it was a very strange thing, feeling both a chill of apprehension and a flush of pleasure at the same time; the sensations mottled his skin in patches of hot and cold. He just stood there, torn between cringing from and leaning into her touch, unsure what to do.
She knew he was thin; he'd been thin as a cat, and thin once returned to the body of a man, though he'd put a little weight back on again. The sight of such lean muscles flexing over all those bones told her just how long he'd been living on the edge. Hermione couldn't resist touching him, wanting to know physically that he was alive, that he was real...that she could touch him with impunity, and learn the warmth of his pale skin. It wasn't that he was cadaverously thin, but he definitely needed to put on a couple stone in both muscle and fat before he would feel truly healthy under her fingertips.
Making up her mind to feed him more, and feed him better, Hermione lifted her other hand to his back, running her palms from his waist to his shoulder-blades. His muscles flexed, his back straightened, and his breath drew in with an audible hiss. But not a bad one, she decided. Moving her hands higher, she kneaded gently at the tension in his shoulder muscles. He relaxed gradually, leaning slightly but palpably back into her touch. Hermione stepped closer, wanting better leverage, but he was taller than her by eight or nine inches. So instead of massaging him further, she slid her hands down, then slipped them around his ribs, embracing him from behind.
Severus stiffened for a moment, surprised by the maneuver. The feel of her teeshirt-covered breasts pressing into his back was pleasurable, but the touch of her mouth on his left shoulder-blade was a shock. She was kissing him, willingly! Holding and touching him, even tentatively exploring his chest. Her fingers certainly encountered the thin patch of hairs that trailed from his sternum to his navel.
At the top, those hairs spread out just enough to feather across his pectoral muscles; when her fingers followed the crinkly texture to the softer skin of his nipples, her lips now brushing the bones of his spine, he stiffened twice. Once from the tensing of his muscles, twice from the hardening of his loins. A groan escaped him. Knowing that if he didn't stop her, he'd want more than just to shower for her, Severus caught her hands in his. Gently but firmly, he peeled her arms away, stepping free of her embrace.
Hermione pouted as he twisted to face her at arm-length. "I wasn't done touching you! I was enjoying that..."
That made him flush, surprised and secretly pleased by her disappointment. Still, he muttered defensively, "I'm not very attractive."
That quirked Hermione's brows. "What do you mean, you're not attractive?"
"Look at me!" he demanded, spreading his arms and gesturing at his chest, with its outline of ribs. He had muscles, but they weren't bulging by any means. Nor very many scars, and the skin of his left forearm had been freed of its Dark Mark with the death of Voldemort, leaving it blemishless, but he wasn't in the picture of health.
"I am looking you...and I'm very attracted to what I'm seeing," Hermione confessed. "Here, sit on the toilet, and I'll help you get your boots off."
The odd change in subject confused him for a moment. Flipping the lid down, Severus sat and watched her kneel at his feet. "You don't have to do that."
"I want to. Besides, the faster I help you, the faster I'll get to see the rest of you," she quipped. There was enough boldness in her to declare those words, but enough shyness that she didn't quite meet his gaze. Unfortunately, she did lift the level of her eyes just enough to look at his crotch...and see the dampness that had finally seeped through the black fabric of his trousers.
He came in his pants oh my god he actually came in his pants and he's all wet right there because he was frotting with me and oh my god is that a hard-on in his trousers is he getting hot again for me?
Blinking, Hermione clamped down on her whirling thoughts, tearing her gaze away from his loins. It felt like even her ears were burning, she was so embarrassed, and yet so turned on. There might not have been quite as much liquid produced on her part, but she was pretty sure her knickers were soaked at least a little, down at the crotch.
In the close air of the bathroom, she could smell her own musk, alright. And his musk, too. The scent of sex. Well, not the scent of intercourse-sex, but close enough. Tugging at his boots, Hermione couldn't help wonder what subtle differences there might be, if they had actually shagged instead of frotted in the front hall.
More of him, and less of me, from reduction by friction? More of me, and less of him, from his...his sperm being deposited within me? Oh god his sperm inside of me his seed in me making me his marking me his...get a hold of yourself, woman! You don't want children, just yet!
Yanking the second boot free, she set it by the first, then peeled off his socks. His feet were long, somewhat narrow, and bony, pale on the tops and pink on the bottoms, with a hint of dark hairs at his ankle-bones. The cuffs of his trousers covered most of that up, though. And his feet...well, they smelled a little, but more of the leather of his boots than of that awful, stale, tortilla-crisp odour she associated with Harry's and Ron's feet, those few times they'd peeled off their socks in her presence.
Setting aside his socks, Hermione sank back on her heels and looked up at Severus. She licked her lips, then asked, "The trousers...?"
He swallowed. "I'll get those." He waited for her to shift out of the way, to give him plenty of room to stand, but she didn't move. Clearing his throat, he waited for her to get the hint. She just licked her lips and stared at his face, his chest...his thighs. Waiting for him to stand and shuck his trousers, and do it practically in her face. Severus cleared his throat again, aroused and intimidated by her expectations. "...Right."
Levering himself up with a hand on the edge of the counter, he stood with his feet planted on either side of one of her knees. Just seeing her there, in a position damn near perfect for fellatio, had him hardening again. Not that he hadn't hardened a little bit earlier, but this was outright stiffening. And since his hips were just about at her eye-level, there was no hiding it. Swallowing again, Severus lifted his fingers to the placket of his pants. The top button was undone, but there were four more to undo. Trying not to fumble, he unfastened them one at a time, burningly aware of her gaze.
Now was not the time to doubt his size. There was nothing that could be done to change it; not without access to a potions lab and certain supplies. Not that he was grotesquely undersized, thank heaven for that, but Severus wasn't exactly hung like the proverbial horse, either. Proportionate. Of course, he was a tall man; he supposed he was above average if one just used a Separating Charm on the thing and lined it up side-by-side with other men's...but that was something he had no inclination to attempt. Reattachment Charms sometimes didn't work, and he wasn't that eager to compare himself with, say, Arthur Weasley's willy. But that thought wasn't conducive to the moment, so Severus banished it from his head.
Severus knew that she had enjoyed having him rub it against her, but that was while his masculinity had been contained and hidden. And while it was still dry, not damp from his ejaculate. But with the last button undone, there was nothing left to do but push his trousers down, off his hips. The fabric tickled his thighs, making him painfully aware of his vulnerability. Yes, he wore undergarments, and they were white...but they weren't clean anymore, and that damp spot was a large, translucent, blatant blotch.
One that held Hermione's gaze. One that...and his heart nearly stopped...made her lick her lips as she stared at it.
It was then that his mind snapped, realization breaking his uncertainty and shattering his fear. The witch kneeling at his feet was all but hypnotized by his 'trouser-snake'. A flush of masculine pride warmed Severus from the chest outward. His woman...and there was no doubt in his mind at that moment that she was indeed going to be his woman...was all but hypnotized by the sight of him. Recognizing that fact gave him a sudden, heady sense of power over her.
Not the cruel power of being a teacher and thus capable of punishing miscreants, and not the dark, dangerous power of being a Death Eater and thus knowing that he could make people cower in fear, something which they had never done around him back when he had been bullied by others in school, making it a novel head-rush when it happened the first few times. No, this was something different, something deeper and purer, and yet at the same time he knew that if he weren't careful in how he handled it, could be warped and twisted into a blasphemous impurity. It was the power of entrancing her, of giving her pleasure with his body.
Only to pleasure her, Severus found himself vowing silently. Only ever to give her pleasure; never for revenge or petty manipulations...only to make her tremble with bliss, never in fear.
A subtle twist of his legs made his trousers drop the rest of the way, puddling at his feet. He intended to peel down his dampened briefs next, but she licked her lips again and lifted her fingers hesitantly. Hermione wanted to touch him. Severus had two choices: knock those fingers away in self preservation; or permit her to touch him, and god help him if she did... Tightening his gut, he quickly slipped his hands behind himself, lacing his fingers together tightly at the small of his back.
He was now exposed for anything she wanted to do to him.
Hermione paused, recognizing the way he tucked his hands behind his back. For such a closed-in, buttoned-up, physically repressed man to render himself so...vulnerable...to whatever she wanted...it was an unexpected gift. Intimidating, because she didn't want to hurt him, emotionally or physically. She didn't think she would, but there was always a small chance. So, while she hesitated for a moment, she finally gathered her courage and pressed forward, gingerly cupping the somewhat slanted, elongated shape lodged within his underwear.
Cool dampness met her fingertips; it was quickly replaced by dry warmth as her palm made contact as well. Soft knit cotton lay over slightly spongy, somewhat hardened flesh. It pulsed under her touch, twitching against her hand. Her breath caught, just a subtle hitch; experimentally, Hermione pressed back. It twitched again, hardening further against her touch. Thickening. Lengthening.
Bringing up her other hand, Hermione tentatively cupped the somewhat rounded, large bulge at the bottom of his briefs. She knew what they were, his testicles, wrapped inside his scrotum. The sideways twist of her hand was awkward. Deciding to go in for a pound as well as a penny, she withdrew her hand, turned her wrist so her fingers pointed forward, and wormed them gently between his thighs. And heard his own breath catch, accompanied by a shifting in his stance so that his lean, muscled thighs were parted just wide enough for her to cup him fully.
Heaven. Tortured in heaven! When she slid her hand slowly along his length, rubbing him experimentally, Severus dropped his head back. His shoulders and arms strained, tugging at his interlocked hands, but he didn't release them. His thighs quivered, bucking his hips into her hands just a little. Her gasp was quiet, but he heard it; oh, he heard it, over the pounding of his heart and the rasp of his own breath entering and exiting his lungs. Her hands were just large enough to cover him, to enfold him in her grasp.
Despite his earlier sating, Severus felt himself thickening, pushing away from his stomach in the need to straighten, to jut out in proud masculinity. Licking his lips, he looked down at her. Her hands slid against him for a moment more, then slipped up to the elastic at the top of his briefs. Her gaze slid up to his as she hesitated. Nodding, trying not to hold his breath, Severus gave her his permission.
Daringly, Hermione pulled his pants out, mainly to clear the bulk of his erection without pulling awkwardly on it, then tugged them down. She almost forgot what she was doing as she saw him bared. Thicker than a summer sausage, and definitely paler, a light creamy pink in colour, his...well, his penis had a cowl-like flap of skin covering all but a thumbnail-sized patch of reddish flesh at the tip. It sagged a little, now that it was free, but didn't flop. Instead, it bobbed in subtle twitches, arcing out toward her. His scrotum crinkled a little at being exposed, but the size of his testicles surprised her; somehow, she expected them to be smaller.
Around them, and especially just above the base of his shaft, grew a thatch of black hairs not much more than twice as thick as the ones dusting his chest, which wasn't much to begin with. Some of it was smeared with a translucent liquid, and some of it was dry. Most of that thicket lay above his pelvic bone, leaving only a sparse scattering around his family jewels. It made her wonder what his legs looked like. Once that white, damp cotton had come into view, she had forgotten to look at the rest of what his falling trousers had bared.
Dragging her gaze down, Hermione found his thighs to be sparsely haired. They were much like his upper arms, in that respect. And like his forearms, his shins were darkened with a thickening of body-hair, but not by much. No, the spots that had the most hair on his body were his scalp, the pits of his arms, and the skin just above his masculinity. Realizing after a moment that his briefs were still tangled around the pale flesh of his upper thighs, Hermione tugged them down to his ankles. He assisted her by stepping out of them, allowing her to tug pants and trousers off to one side.
For a moment, his hands were free, allowing him to balance himself...then Severus deliberately tucked them behind his back again. Her gaze returned to his groin, and with it, he could swear he could feel the caress of her breath. It didn't help his composure that she was breathing through open lips. Nor that she licked them, then left them parted again. His hands trembled as his shoulders tensed, pulling at the fingers keeping him from reaching for her curly brown head.
Strangely enough, the self-bondage added to his desire. He was keeping himself helpless, for no other reason than he wanted her to be the one to touch him, for her to decide how she would pleasure him. Though he had some experience in staying his hand in the face of torment, submitting to the punishment of the Dark Lord whenever he had failed in order to retain his place as a spy, this was the first time he had ever restrained himself to submit for his own pleasure...and for the pleasure of another.
Her hand returned to his skin. It was a tentative touch, fingertips only. Curiosity got the better of Hermione; he was hot and silky-velvety, but she needed to know what was underneath that cowl of skin. His foreskin. She'd done some educational reading on the subject as well as fictional reading; she knew what it was, had seen pictures and drawings. But this was the real thing. Three-dimensional-real.
Bringing up her other hand, she circled the base of his shaft, steadying him. Hermione quickly discovered that not only did her fingers not meet up with her thumb in the attempt to encircle his circumference, she could have easily wrapped her other palm around him, with the edges of her hands resting together at about mid-shaft, and left about an inch at the tip. Proportionate in length to his overall height, yes, but a bit thicker than expected for such a thin body. Her mind flashed to a better-fed version of Severus Snape, one where an increase in his muscles gave more definition and bulk to his frame, and decided he would definitely be well-proportioned then.
A rhythmic throbbing against the skin of her left hand filtered into her awareness. She could feel his heartbeat. Adjusting her right hand, Hermione wrapped it loosely around the cowled head of his penis, then gripped just enough to pull his foreskin down and back, baring the mushroom-shaped tip. It peeled back, damp with more of the same liquid on his belly...and his discarded clothes. Semen. Jism. Ejaculate. He smelled musky, sweaty, male, but most of all, he smelled of sex. Hermione hadn't realized it at the time, but a few times during sixth year, Ron had smelled like this...usually after having gone somewhere private with Lavender Brown.
Her fingers stopped, tightening slightly. He groaned and swayed forward, pushing into her grip. The act peeled back the rest of his foreskin and rubbed the base of his shaft through the grip of her lower hand. It brought an awareness of just how straight and hard he had grown. Hermione refocused her attention fully on Severus; Ron was totally in her past, and his sex-life no concern...or interest...of hers. This man's sex...no, his love-life, was infinitely more interesting to her. Especially as she had caused the majority of what perfumed him now.
Severus couldn't help himself. Bared to her, gripped by her, being explored by her, he needed more. He needed friction. She tightened her fingers a little more, a startled squeeze. It jolted something in his mind, this fact that he had startled her. Virgin. Flaming letters that were threatening to burn both of them, him at the loins and her at the hands. With a level of discipline Severus didn't know he possessed, he brought his arms around and carefully removed her hands.
She resisted for only a moment, then complied. Disappointed and confused, Hermione looked up at him, lowering her hands to her lap in compliance. "...Why are you stopping me?"
"Because if we don't stop, I will spray all over your hands and your face. And I am trying to resp..." Severus choked as her hands flew back up to his groin. Not because she grabbed him roughly, but because she cupped his testicles gently in one palm and encircled him with the other, stroking with fingers that pulled down his foreskin. "...God!"
"You can thank me later," she quipped, rising up onto her knees, "not God, for this."
"Hermione!" he hissed, struggling to control the heaving of his lungs. Hell, he struggled to remain upright, but it was too hard...he was too hard, and she was petting the underside of his bollocks, stroking his skin from perineum to scrotum. His hands fell to her shoulders, leaning on her heavily. She sank back down under the force of his weight...then leaned forward and kissed his damp tip. He choked again, then gasped when he felt her tongue lancing over him in a curling lick, while one of the fingers of the hand not stroking his shaft pressed up between his thighs, and experimentally fluttered. "Oh, fuck! Oh, God! Oh...C-cuming!"
Wanting to try and swallow him, like she'd read about, Hermione held him in her mouth, rubbing the underside of his glans with her tongue. Definitely musky, and somewhat salty. She felt it first down by her left hand, felt his scrotum drawing up, a pulsing under the middle finger attempting to gently tease his prostate gland. Felt it in her other hand, too, a sort of pumping jerking, and the bobbing of his flesh in her mouth...and then the salty-musky trickle became a bitter-salty-musky flood.
She swallowed the first trickle as more spilled onto her tongue, and discovered quickly that the bitterness burned very unpleasantly at the back of her throat, making her want to gag. By sheer willpower alone, she suppressed the reflex, making her tongue stroke his still-spurting tip, stimulating him, though her hands no longer moved. He gasped and shuddered, not quite bucking into her, then panted heavily.
A little more leaked out on its own, then his hand came down, covering hers, showing her how to gently stroke him toward his tip, milking out the last of it. Hermione held on, accepted the musky-bitter mouthful until he withdrew himself, sagging his trembling, sweating body onto the closed lid of the toilet. Unfortunately, she was stuck with a mouthful of semen, and no clue of how to excuse herself to go elsewhere so she could spit.
The look on her face finally sank through his post-orgasmic bliss. Naturally talented though the minx might be, she clearly had never tasted ejaculate before. Of course, she struggled to conceal it, but he could guess what she really wanted to do was spit in his lap. Or rather, into the toilet under his lap. Taking pity on her, he pushed the shower curtain back.
"Spit into the tub; I'll rinse it down when I shower."
Grateful, Hermione turned and leaned over the bathtub rim. As delicately as she could, she let his semen dribble from her mouth, then carefully worked the rest of it out with her tongue, trying not to actually spit. Forcing herself to ignore the residue, she straightened up again, brushing her hair back from her face. "Sorry, I'm not used to the taste. First time, and all that...I can do better!"
Severus could guess where her insistence came from. Undoubtedly she had run across pornographic materials that proclaimed how men preferred women who swallowed. Cupping her chin, he lifted her face so that her gaze met his. "Hermione, it is not necessary to complete the act of fellatio by swallowing. Frankly, I don't know why anyone would; I've...well, I tasted myself once out of curiosity, and I found it to be quite nasty. So if you'd rather spit, by all means, do so. I will understand and not take offence."
Relief coursed through her when she realized he really meant it. Turning, she worked up the last of the nasty taste and spat it into the tub, grateful she didn't have to be delicate. Hauking a second time, she cleared her mouth as much as she could, then turned back to him. "Thank you. I love making you get to that point, but...um...maybe next time you could just, you know...do it on my face or something."
"I'm not the sort who likes humiliating a woman in that way, Hermione...your breasts, yes, that would be something I might enjoy seeing," he allowed, forcing himself to be truthful, "but I don't 'get off' on seeing my seed on a woman's face. Your face is lovely on its own; it needs neither make-up nor any other sort of 'paint' to make me appreciate it."
That made her smile shyly. Then screw up her face and turn for another expelling of the flavour in her mouth. Turning back to him, she gave him a wry, apologetic look. "It doesn't taste that bad, really. It's just that when I swallow, it burns the back of my throat. Like a bad cold. It just literally makes it hard to swallow."
"Well, I have been called that," he managed to jest. At her puzzled look, Severus repeated, "'Hard to swallow'?"
Hermione choked on a laugh. "...I can't deny that one!...I'll work on it," she promised. "Maybe if you ate some fruit or something, changed the Ph of it... We'll have to look into it."
"Only if you absolutely, unequivocably want to, Hermione," Severus stated firmly. "Truthfully, it does nothing for me. Pursue it only if it pleases you to do so. It would distress me more if you felt you had to force yourself to endure it, rather than just seeing you spitting it out, afterwards."
Nodding, Hermione accepted his words. If he didn't find the thought of her swallowing his seed a turn-on...well, she could live with a discreet Evanesco or two. The tub was handy enough this time around, but they wouldn't always be in the bathroom. Promising herself silently to learn how to cast an Evanesco both wordlessly and wandlessly, Hermione rose from her knees. Padding over to the sink, she turned on the faucet and rinsed her mouth with a palmful of water.
When she finished doing that, she turned in time to watch him stand. He lifted his arms over his head, stretching. It was a beautiful sight, a level of humanity and vulnerability she couldn't ever remember seeing in him before. Odd, but there it was: until this moment...and excluding his time as a cat, which didn't count...Hermione had never once seen Severus Snape stretch.
It brought his muscles into nice definition, too.
She admired him from arms to head, then from chest to groin...and noticed his equipment had shrunk. In fact, the way his foreskin dangled made it look something like a wrinkled, longish turnip. Biting back the urge to giggle, she smiled up at him, then impulsively stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. For a moment he tensed, then lowered his arms and embraced her in return.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered against his chest, enjoying the sticky feel of his drying sweat under her cheek.
"My pleasure," Severus purred, and felt her shiver. Suspecting it was from his voice, he filed that way in his thoughts to examine and experiment with later. Drawing back after a few moments, he disengaged her arms gently and addressed her disappointment. "I do need to shower, now."
Hermione nodded reluctantly. She wanted to hold him longer, but she also wanted to watch him bathe. Shifting back, she gave him room to step into the tub. He drew the curtain most of the way to contain the spray, but left her a gap at the back so she could lean in and watch him turning on the tap. When she did so, she discovered his arse.
For such a skinny, lean, hook-nosed man, he not only had very nice legs, he had a damned-near-perfect arse. His buttocks were mostly hair-free and as pale as the rest of his hide, but were as well-rounded as a pair of cantaloupe halves. Hermione felt a very strange urge to sink her teeth into them. Not to cause him pain or to bleed or anything, but in the sense that she enjoyed sinking her teeth into a juicy slice of melon. It was a little disconcerting to realize the sight of his arse was turning her on...or rather, keeping her turned on.
It was a pity his backside had been hidden all these years in his teaching robes... No, that's not entirely true, Hermione reminded herself as he tugged on the shower lever and straightened. There was that time with the Dueling Club, when he doffed his robes and just stood there, looking incredibly dark and competent...I cannot believe I had a crush on that idiot, Lockhart! Going for style over substance, really. I will admit I was very impressed with Severus' substance, that day...but I was too impressed by a pretty smile.
She thought of the potions and charms she wanted to try on him, watching him twist his body under the spray. She really didn't want to turn him into a Lockhart knock-off...but her parents were dentists, and she wanted to see him with straightened teeth. And whiter teeth. Not blindingly bright, just not quite so tea-stained. He did brush and floss; she granted him that. Blame it on my upbringing, but how a man cares for his mouth says a lot about how he cares for himself...and if he makes just a little more effort with himself, he'll be perfect. As in, perfect-for-me. Which is all I want, and everything I want.
He turned around, wetting his spine and tipping his head backward, into the spray. Water trickled down his chest, making his chest hairs even darker. An urge to lean in further past the curtain, to press her lips against his chest and lick those trickles and droplets from his skin welled up within Hermione. Not wanting to get that wet, she resisted. Leaning against the wall, she contented herself with squinting against the occasional bit of ricocheting spray and watching him reach for her nylon scrubby-pouf.
Severus, mindful of her admonition to use bodywash or shampoo on his skin instead of soap, found one of the bottles she had bought for her own use and poured a dollop onto the pouf. Conscious of her gaze, he worked it into a lather, then carefully scrubbed his face, working his way down onto his throat. Stepping back, he rinsed off so that he could see again, then stepped forward so he could scrub himself from the neck down. At least the lather didn't smell overly flowery, though it did have a fruity scent to it.
Her gazed followed his hands down onto his chest and stomach, watching him lather his arms, his ribs...he skipped his groin, lifting one leg to the rim of the tub so he could scrub from thigh to calf and back. Lathering the other, he cleaned that one as well, then held out the silly bundle of woven nylon.
Hermione blinked, confused by the offering. "What?"
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "If you're just going to stand there, you should be put to work...and I cannot reach my back nearly as well as you can."
Turning, he presented his bony spine, and that magnificent arse. A glance over his shoulder challenged her to comply. Invited her to get her hands on his wet, naked frame. Leaning forward, Hermione obeyed with alacrity. Scrubbing his nape, she worked her way down, over his shoulders and around his shoulder-blades. Across his ribs and along his waist, to that beautifully rounded bottom. She didn't care how many droplets from the spray landed on her hair, her face, her teeshirt. She just enjoyed fondling his bottom under the guise of scrubbing it.
Mindful of her own bathing needs, she even daringly rubbed the pouf between his nether-cheeks, wanting to be sure he was clean absolutely everywhere. But even a thorough clean didn't take that long, couldn't take that long, so it was with reluctance that she tapped his hip, silently offering to relinquish the scrubby. Turning to face her, allowing the shower spray to rinse off the lather, Severus waited for her to finish the job.
When she just continued to hold the pouf out to him, he grasped her wrist gently, bringing her hand down to his groin. He kept hold of her hand, too, since that wasn't a location where vigorous scrubbing would be appreciated. Guiding her fingers, he helped her gently knead the wadded nylon under, around, and over his flesh. Then he pulled back his foreskin and showed her how to thoroughly clean him there, as well.
For Hermione, it was almost as intimate as fellatio had been. More intimate, in a way. She could feel him thickening a little under her touch and had to resist the urge to stroke him harder. This was a shower, not a prelude to lovemaking. And he'd climaxed twice already; she wasn't sure how often a man of his age could have an erection, but she did know it took time to replenish the various fluids involved. I don't want to break him just as I've started to play with him, after all.
The thought made her smile. Releasing him, she handed him the scrubby to rinse and hang-dry. He turned himself into the spray as well, then picked up the same bottle as before. Lathering his hair, he scrubbed, then rinsed it. Unsure if he should use conditioner...and which conditioner, given there were three different bottles available...Severus debated for a moment, then turned to his partner.
"Should I use anything else?" he enquired. Then clarified at her blank look, "I mean on my hair."
"Oh. Er...use that shampoo over there," Hermione directed him.
"If you weren't paying attention, I just used shampoo on my hair," he stated.
"Yes, but that other stuff is a different type. It'll help your scalp guard against dryness and flakes," Hermione told him. "And then you use that conditioner, there. It says to leave it in, but that's for my hair-type. You'll want to rinse it out of your own locks...but leave it in for a minute, first."
Severus rolled his eyes. He complied, first scrubbing his scalp with the minty-smelling shampoo, then used the citrus-scented conditioner. Stuck with a minute to wait, he felt the urge to complain. "Hermione, you have three bottles of shampoo, and three bottles of conditioner. Why didn't you just settle on one each?"
"Because each one is formulated to do something different from the others," Hermione replied logically. "Some strip more oil out of the hair, others add bounce and shine, some enhance curl, some add manageability..."
Picking up two of the conditioner bottles, Severus squinted at the ingredients, comparing them side-by-side. "They're mostly the same."
"A Shrinking Potion and a Deflating Draught are similar in content and have similar effects...but they aren't the same. Or do you not remember that lecture from your second-year classes?" Hermione asked dryly. The dark look he gave her told her that he did, indeed, remember his lectures. She rolled her eyes. "Look, Severus, despise it as you will, the Beauty Industry pours millions of pounds into both research and marketing...and they make billions of pounds in profits as a result. In both the Muggle and the wizarding worlds."
"Yes, but two rounds of shampooing my hair?" he asked her, setting the bottles back.
"Yes, two rounds of it. You aren't standing over steaming cauldrons anymore, but your hair still gets a bit greasy. Especially if you go more than a few days without showering. That's why the instructions say lather, rinse, repeat as needed. And it's why you should shower more frequently." She watched him rinse his hair, then added, "Now, doesn't it feel good to shower? Doesn't your body enjoy being pampered and scrubbed, and getting all nice and clean?"
"I wouldn't quite put it that way," Severus stated.
"Well, does it feel absolutely horrible?" Hermione challenged him.
"No," he conceded.
"There you go. It's enjoyable."
"Your logic is flawed; there are several shades of nebulous grey between 'horrible' and 'enjoyable'," he countered.
"Severus, if you put your mind to it, you can actually enjoy life," Hermione chided him, exasperated. "Happiness is as much a state of mind as a state of being, or a state of circumstance." At the quirking of his eyebrow, she added firmly, "Just think, I am happy doing this, and I will be happy doing this. Try it for a full month, and then see if it doesn't change some of your perspective on the tolerability of life."
Skeptical, Severus didn't say anything, just turned, rinsed off his body one more time, and shut off the shower. When he pushed the curtain back, she had already fetched two towels from the cupboards under the sink, one medium and on the thin side, the other thick and fluffy. Handing him the larger towel, she reached up and scrubbed his head with the smaller one. It threatened his balance, but since she was still touching him willingly, Severus didn't complain. He even bent over a little, giving her better access to his hair. Finally satisfied, she released him, allowing him to use the towel in his hands to scrub the rest of his body dry.
They had neglected to bring in fresh clothes for him to wear. Blushing at the oversight, Hermione scooped his dirty clothes into a bundle and carried them out of the bathroom; she muttered as she did so that she would toss them into the washing machine along with a load of other clothes, then come back upstairs to fetch him something to wear. Severus wrapped his drying towel around his hips and reached for the comb she had set on the counter for his use. Dragging it through his damp hair, he tried not to admire how snarl-free his locks were, compared to their normal stringy mess.
Maybe there was something to this 'Beauty Industry' stuff. He wondered idly just how much money one could make off of a 'perfect conditioner' in the wizarding world, if he examined some recipes for the necessary potions, maybe experimented with a few modifications... Dragging the comb back over his scalp, he slicked his hair back from his face, wanting to see what 'potential' she saw in him. Seeing his face in stark relief, without the sheltering of his shoulder-length hair to soften his angular features, Severus scowled.
He was too stern-looking, too large-nosed for a woman to like. With his hair scraped back, he didn't even look like himself, like the Greasy Git he had become over the years. That thought made him close his eyes. Like you've become over the years...but you don't have to be that man anymore. You know you don't...and you know she doesn't want a shallow, appearance-obsessed, Gilderoy Lockhart type, but she doesn't want a bitter old bastard in her life, either. You can do it for her sake, if not for your own. Make her proud to be with you, or as proud as she can be.
He still hadn't allowed her to straighten his teeth, but he supposed he could allow her to try. Trying to imagine what he would look like with straight white teeth had him making faces in the mirror. Mindful of how silly he looked, Severus stuck out his tongue at himself and lifted the comb again to drag his hair down into its usual central part. He heard Hermione coming back up the stairs and smiled wryly; she was humming to herself, as she sometimes did.
They hadn't lived together for more than a couple of months now, including his time spent stuck as a cat, but he had learned a few of her habits. After having disposed of some disliked household task, she sometimes hummed when moving on to something much more tolerable. Laundry was a hated task, of course. Fetching his clothing, however, seemed to be far more agreeable to her. Either that, or she was going to insist on watching him get dressed.
"...Augh!!"
The startled shriek alarmed Severus. Snatching up his wand, he darted out of the bathroom. Hermione stood in the doorway of her bedroom, one of the guestrooms in the cottage. She was staring into the room with a disgusted, shocked expression, frozen in place by whatever lay inside the room. Severus slowed, wary, and watched her inhale a shuddering breath.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley...what, in God's Name, are you doing in my bedroom?!" Hermione yelled, yanking her wand out of her hair. "Naked, no less!"
The thought of a naked, freckled hide was enough to churn anyone's stomach. Severus debated whether or not to make his presence known. On the one hand, he wanted to chase off the overly hormonal twit, securing the safety and sanctity of his woman. On the other hand, revealing his presence in her life like this, clad only in a towel, was liable to create an explosive situation. He'd had enough of those as a Potions teacher and a spy; he didn't need them in his personal life, now that the war was over.
Through the doorway, he could hear the youngest male Weasley attempting to sound seductive. "Well, I decided to drop by and see how you were doing, maybe see if you'd want to move out to Harry's place with him and me, since your aunt died and all...and when I heard the shower running, thought I'd surprise you in bed. I mean, I thought you'd be all nice, and wet, and naked, and so I'd get myself all nice, and wet, and naked..."
Grabbing the doorknob, Hermione yanked the door shut between them, all but slamming the panel. She shuddered, head bowed. "He was touching himself," she hissed under her breath, glancing sideways at Severus. "I found it enticing when you did it, but when he does it...I just want to scrub myself in the hottest shower I can stand!"
"Hermione...do you want him to know about me? About us?" Severus whispered back, touching her shoulder. "If I reveal myself, I'm certain I could make it clear to the idiot that this sort of uninvited invasion of your...our...privacy will no longer be tolerated...but it could also start a war, with you trapped in the middle."
He had a point. Two points, really. She didn't want to be stuck in the middle...but she would be stuck in the middle, no matter when her preferences were revealed. Lifting her chin, she straightened her shoulders and flung open the door. Nearly hitting Ron in the face, as a result. He had slipped off her bed...she would have to thoroughly launder said bedding, now...and approached the door, still disconcertingly naked.
"Watch it!" he protested, rubbing the shoulder smacked by the edge of the door with his gilded replacement hand. "That hurt!"
"No, you watch it, Ronald!" Hermione ordered, thrusting her finger at his face. "You and I are nothing more than friends, and you and I will never be anything more than friends! But after this asinine little stunt, I'm not sure I want to be your friend anymore! You do not have permission to enter this house uninvited, EVER!"
"Krum is dead, Hermione...if you ever really loved him!"
"It doesn't really matter, now does it?" Hermione retorted, angrier with him than she could ever remember being. "Because I do not love you!"
"Hermione..."
"Don't you 'Hermione' me!" she hissed, jabbing him in his pale, freckled chest with her finger. She didn't need a wand to make him back up; her furious, bruising poke forced him back a step. "Yes, I'll admit I used Krum as an excuse, back at St. Mungo's. I didn't want you to think I was rejecting you because of your injuries, because it wasn't about that. I thought I could spare your ego being pricked, but it's so over-inflated with self-worth, a whole gallon of Deflating Draught wouldn't make a dent in it!"
Seven years of frustration and anger were boiling up within her. The majority of that time, they had been good friends, yes, but not all of it. She stepped forward and poked him again, making him flinch back and scowl.
"For seven years, you and I have been friends, Ronald Weasley, and in those seven years, you and I have had very little in common, aside from being Gryffindors, sharing some of our classes, and getting into and out of trouble together. That's enough to make a friendship between us, but it is not enough to make a relationship! You will never, ever enjoy sitting down and reading a trade journal on Arithmancy, and I will never, ever enjoy listening to you blathering on about the Chudley Cannons! Get it into your head, Ron Weasley! You and I are only friends, and will only ever be friends! And friends do not invade each other's privacy!"
A third jab rocked him back. He started to say something, raising his gilded replacement hand in self-defence, but she cut him off.
"While some women may find you to be attractive, Ron, I do not. For a while, I thought I was. You have many good qualities...but what you want in a wife is not what I want to be. And what I want in a husband is something you could never be! I would rather spend the rest of my life as a spinster with a hundred cats, than waste my time trying to jam your round peg into my square hole...or any other protruding part into any part of my life, other than the parts that belong to friends, and friends only. And if you ever...ever...try to get near me with more-than-friendly protruding body parts without my clearly and explicitly expressed permission, I will cut them off! As I would any man who dared try to force themselves on me!
"If you ever see me with a naked man in my life, Ronald Weasley," she finished, "I assure you, he will be there because I want him to be there!"
Severus could not resist. He knew it was the wrong thing to do, that it was very bad of him, that it was pouring petrol onto the flames of their argument...but he just had to do it. Stepping around the corner, he leaned his shoulder on the doorframe with a smirk and crossed his arms over his chest. His naked-to-his-towel-wrapped-waist chest.
Ron's blue eyes snapped wide, spotting him. They stared blankly in non-recognition for a long moment, then widened to the point of bulging. Of all the people to be lounging in Hermione's bedroom doorway in nothing more than a towel, his ex-Professor Snape was not one of them. With his point silently, wordlessly made...that he was welcome in her home, naked as a bath towel could let him be...Severus pushed away from the doorway, retreating further down the hall.
Turning her head to see what Ron was gaping at, Hermione caught sight of Severus just as he left. She had mixed feelings over his appearance: on the one hand, she was glad he had showed himself right when she said that bit about only having naked men in her house that she wanted to have naked in her house. On the other hand, she was glad he hadn't pressed the confrontation any further than that. Returning her attention to the other male in the cottage, a gaping, stunned Ron, she arched her brow.
"...Yes?" she enquired as his mouth opened and closed several times soundlessly. "You have something to say?"
"That...that was...that..."
"Yes, that was Severus Snape," Hermione confirmed bluntly. "Naked...well, wrapped in a bath towel...but entirely welcome in this house. Because he asked to enter this house, and asked if he could do things like take a shower in this house. He was courteous in doing so. You, on the other hand," and she let her tone show that she did not approve of Ron's tactics, "invaded my house without my awareness, without my permission, and you not only stripped yourself naked without asking if it was alright with me, you touched my bed with your unclothed, unbathed hide.
"Not only that, you were touching yourself, and leaking God-knows-what all over my bedding! Now I'm going to have to scrub and Scourgify those blankets and sheets before I can touch them again, thanks to your inconsiderate invasion!"
He squawked at that. "Now, that's going too far!"
"Coming in here uninvited for a wank on my bed was going too far, Ron!" Hermione returned sharply. "La-ven-der Brown," she enunciated, and pointed at the door. "You have one minute to get your clothes on and yourself out of this house. If you want to wank on anybody's bed, I suggest you try hers, since she's far more interested in you than I...and I suggest you ask her for her permission to wank off on her bed, because if you don't, I'll tell her to hex off your rod-and-tackle!"
"Hermione!" Ron protested.
"Forty-five seconds," she asserted crisply, lifting the wand in her fingers, showing him she was ready and willing to use it. "If you and your clothes aren't out of here by the time my count reaches zero, I'll Portkey you straight to the Burrow in all your...glory."
The sarcastic drawl of her voice was worthy of the man who had briefly appeared in the doorway moments ago. Ron flushed, but started gathering his things. "I cannot believe you've allowed Snape into your home!"
"Snape asked," Hermione reminded him. "Moreover, he asked politely and respectfully. He had never assumed anything, in regards to my house, my person, or my permission."
"You drop by Grimmauld Place without arranging permission," he grumbled.
"That's not true, and you and Harry both know it. Either I arrange it in advance, or I knock on the door and wait to be let in," Hermione told him tartly. "Either way, I'd never just Apparate straight in, now that it's Harry's home. When it was Headquarters, anyone could go when they needed during the war, but now it's Harry's home, and I always ask, because I was raised to be polite!...And you have twenty seconds to be out of here."
He flashed her his arse, bending over and fishing for the trainers that had been half-pushed under her bed. Hermione shuddered, repulsed. Unlike Severus', his was freckled, hairy, and flat. Decidedly underfed, even if the rest of him wasn't nearly as bony as the older wizard. And his body hair...ginger body hair. Bristly, furry, ginger body hair... Wishing there was a way to Scourgify her eyes and her memory, she kept her expression adamantly stern as he straightened and faced her, his things bundled into his arms.
"Just one question..."
"Five seconds."
"Why Snape?" he asked, bewilderment in his eyes. "Why did you allow him in here, and not me?"
"Aside from the fact that he asked, instead of assumed, you mean?" she asked him sardonically. "If you cannot figure out all that he has in common with me, Ron, then you certainly don't know me well enough to have a relationship with me. And you've just run out of time. Apparate out, before I turn one of your trainers into a Portkey, and dump you in the middle of Diagon Alley!"
He glared at her, but gripped his clothes, squeezed his eyes shut, and concentrated. With a crack, Ron vanished from her bedroom. Hermione checked the air carefully to make sure he hadn't left behind even so much as a splinched eyelash, then flicked out her wand, Scourgifying the place of his smell. Unlike Severus, she didn't think he had bathed very recently...his exposed feet had certainly left behind that awful, stale-corn-crisp smell.
It gave her all the more incentive to want to buy herself and Severus a brand-new bed, with brand new blankets and sheets. Something that hadn't been touched by that freckled, self-centered idiot. Something where she could enjoy Severus' scent. Even when he sweated, the older wizard's body odour wasn't nearly as unpleasant.
Flicking her wand again, she cast a Cleansing Charm on the bed, then a Folding Charm. Blankets and sheets stripped off the bed, organizing themselves into neat stacks. Even the pillow-slips wormed their way off their synthetically stuffed contents so that they could be added to the piles. These were blankets that had been here to begin with, not ones she had brought from her parents' home, so she felt no particular attachment to them; Hermione had no qualms about donating them to the nearest charity store.
With the mattress stripped and the stacks of bedding levitated to one side to await their donation, the bed didn't remind her of Ron anymore, thankfully. Another swish of her wand scoured the mattress-pad, mattress and pillows, and a wriggle pulled out fresh linens and a quilt from the closet. Within moments, the bed was freshly made. Perhaps it was going overboard, but she considered moving into another guest room...because she could still see Ron's hairy buttocks and ginger pubes sprawled in front of her on the bed, one freckled hand caressing himself, in her mind's eye.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she growled in frustration. How many times do I have to tell that freckled git to leave me alone?
"I'm glad he left."
Sighing heavily, Hermione opened her eyes and turned around. Severus stood in the doorway again, this time clad in yet another pair of black trousers and a white shirt, which he was buttoning at the cuffs. It was a warm summer day, yet he insisted on covering himself up, silly man. If it had been him lying on her bed, wanking...
The idea made her blink. "Severus, would you do me a really big favour?"
One of his brows rose. "What?"
"Would you please go lie on the bed, unbutton your shirt and trousers, take out your...your wedding-tackle...and stroke it for a few minutes while I watch?" Hermione asked. His other brow rose as well, making her blush at the audacity of her request. "...It's Ron! I can't get the damned image of him lying there out of my head! Ginger pubes," she stressed, hunching her shoulders in a shudder. "...Urgh! Some people go in for that, and more power to them...but not me!"
He had sauntered down the hallway only a short distance after his little self-display and had lingered there in case she needed assistance routing Idiot Boy. Thus, he had heard every word. Only after hearing the Freckled Idiot leave had Severus gone on to the spare bedroom containing his wardrobe, to dress himself again. She had stripped and changed the bed, a good idea, but if Ronald Weasley was still dominating the guestroom with his memory, dominating and horrifying her thoughts, Severus knew his masculine duty. Hermione was his woman, and this cottage was their house. That meant every single room was his room, as much as it was hers. No other man should be allowed to make a mark on this place. Not without his permission.
It was a primitive way of looking at the situation, not the least bit civilized, but it was logical. His mate had requested that he re-dominate this chamber in her eyes, and thus dominate it in her thoughts. Actually, that was the civilized thing to do, since Severus realized that stringing the Freckled Idiot up by his 'ginger pubes' was a lot more barbaric. So perhaps the primal thing, not necessarily primitive, was to re-stake his claim. Visibly.
Stepping silently around her, he unbuttoned the cuffs he had been working on, then turned by the bed to face her. Opening his shirt in an echo of their time in the bathroom, he unfastened the buttons of his trousers as well, but didn't drop them down. Instead, he reached inside, adjusting the layers so that he could tuck everything underneath as he gently lifted his loins out of his clothes.
Despite having climaxed twice, he could feel himself hardening, his flesh responding in tune with his primal thoughts. Trailing the tips of one set of fingers up and down the length of exposed skin on his torso, he kept the other hand tucked under his 'wedding tackle', as she had referenced it. Kept it on display for her.
The view was magnificently confident, magnificently male. Hermione stared, breathless. It wasn't until he spoke that she managed to tear her gaze away from his body and back to his face.
"...Is this enough?"
"Huh?"
He allowed himself a slight smile at her distracted response. "Is this enough to make you forget another man? Or shall I continue?"
She almost answered, Another man, who? But that would give him perhaps a little too much ammunition against her. That tiny smirk let her know that he realized he could distract her with this much of himself. "That'll do. Very nicely, in fact. Thank you. Erm...you may redress, if you wish. Thank you. Not, erm, too quickly; no need to rush, or anything..."
Okay, so she was giving herself away. Who could blame her? The sight of him was simply too good! It was a pity to have to cover up all of that deliciousness, but she didn't protest him doing so; they did have work to do. Regrettably.
Smirking, Severus complied. When he got himself tucked back into place and everything re-buttoned, he crossed back to her side. "I think it is time we focused on warding the whole house against uninvited guests, and not just the basement. Even if your other friend weren't life-debted to be pleasant to me, and thus prohibited from coming here and making trouble for me, Mr. Weasley could always go crying 'foul' to his relatives. I'd rather not have more freckled faces to deal with, today."
"Quite. You're quite right," Hermione agreed, dragging her brain back out of the gutter. It was a very nice gutter, not nearly as unpleasant a place to be as one might think, but she did have work to do. "Warding the house. I believe I saw a couple books in the library room that had some good spells we could apply. Runes, Charms, that sort of thing..."
"I enjoy how well you can get your mind back onto the tracks again, after your train of thought has been derailed," Severus purred in her ear, stepping close enough to her that she could feel his body heat.
Hermione almost let her thoughts be derailed again. She cleared her throat. "Yes, well, just remember, I get to thoroughly derail your thoughts tomorrow."
"I shall enjoy watching you try." Brushing past her, Severus headed for the room he had converted to store all their books.
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Latest 25 Reviews for Spinster
203 Reviews | 6.46/10 Average
Wonderful fic! I loved the way Sev and Hermione interacted. I love to hate Ron; he lived up to his reputation as being an idiot at the end ;)
Hehe! This is so cute and funny so far. Can't wait to read the rest.
Ron got his just deserts, Severus and Hermione get their happy ever after . Perfect ending.
That Skeeter woman needs locking up, for public safety. Hermione and Severus handled it well, but I get the feeling she'll be back. Ron and Lavender make a good couple, being on the same mental level, just like Severus and Hermione. Meeting the parents was fun. { for us to read at least}
Now THATS home improvement!
lol, my favourite chapter so far =D very cute!
i can't wait to see what snape does to hermione =)
This is a wonderful story! I love the black cat ;) .... I have one myself (now only if my kitty could be a wizard!)
:)
Nice!
I usually do not comment more than once on a story but the exchange with the neighbors was phenomenal!
This chapter was hilarious. But after seeing you use the word frotted I had to look it up, and I do not think it should be used here as it does not mention anything about being a heterosexual movement only a homosexual one. Just a thought.
Snicker! Good job that her parents didn't remember she was peeing in front of the cat. They do seem to be winning everyone over a little bit at a time, though. Now they just need to convince the Muggle neighbours.
Snicker! What a MAN...
Oh dear! That was just too too funny, though I suspect that there may actually be some fall out from that somewhere along the line, and even funnier considering the fact that technically I'm not sure they've quite reached the 'living in sin' stage, yet. I'm not sure exactly where that dividing line falls.
Snicker! I wonder if Severus has been swigging Potions. 3 erections in such a short space of time is really rather good going for a guy in his late thirties.
Snicker! You really are a consummate tease... Offering just a little more and a little more with each chapter.
Snicker! Severus is trying to make her a ring, which on the one hand makes him sort of cute, and on the other makes him a devious Slytherin cheapskate.
Poor Hermione, though I suspect this may be a plot device so that she gets the house and they can start up in business straight away.
Sigh! Hermione... Do you really think he would trust you with all that information, enough to figure it all out, if he wasn't really on the side of good?
Amen!
Snicker! I love the way that McGonagall calls them both on the 'petting' that anyone who wasn't a feline Animagus would miss completely. They'ree both so busted, though I reckon that after weeks of being looked after Severus had a nerve to turn round and tell her she's the hostess. He was just about acting as entitled as Ron.
Snicker! Poor Severus, giving away all his innermost secrets. Let's just hope when we get to the explicit sex mentioned in the summary that the book doesn't get trapped between him and the mattress or something.
Oh god, his thoughts when he was being petted where hilarious... granted I had to change clothes after that considering the milk I had in my mouth at the time of reading it was spit out all over myself... so thanks for that!
Man, now I totally want to get a black cat and name him Severus... that was if I didn't already have seven of the damn things. Only one is mine, the other six are my nieces, I'm not some crazy cat lady.. well maybe a little crazy...
Have absolutely loved the time I've spent reading this story from start to finish - no breaks at all; as I was completely absorbed in the plot and wonderful writing of their characters! :) Absolutely adored it... will definitely be back to read again! (: xx
I love this story, and this chapter so much!...Good writing is in re-read-ability!*nomnomnoms*
Response from ladyofthemasque (Author of Spinster)
Now that is the purrrfect praise. *pets'n'cuddles the sapphire_pheonix*~Lotm(kidnapped and held ransom for the last year by plot-bunnies and house-buying elves)
I love this story... doint a re-read! Thrilling end (even when I knew what was coming!) and delightfully long chaps... nom nom nom