This piece was written because a friend asked if Lord Who had a birthday chapter, and it didn't.
Cold meds + Beyonce + my girlfriends and I talking trash on FB = this piece of sexed up lit.
Updates will be erratic, it will be PWP and it will probably be in the time periods between them having sex and the morning of this piece, because I am already delving into marriage/deep relationships in Lord Who and another piece that I haven't posted and this will be just fun for ME...
I shouldn't be alive.
I should be dead.
Yet I am here wrapped in her arms, head pressed to her breast, wondering if I should wake her by suckling her nipples. A birthday gift to myself.
Dear Sucellus, you have given me heaven on earth.
She makes some nonsensical cooing noise, I smile rasping my beard along her nipple. I love those sounds.
As I lay in pain, hemotoxin streaming through my body, tender to the touch everywhere, yes everywhere and unable to tell the witless fools for healers so.
She came to visit, and kept coming out of some unknown sense of guilt I believe.
I would be lying if I did not admit I was irascible as ever when she first came, but being unable greet her with my usual froideur I could only listen as she read.
She began with Homer I wanted to cry, scream, and rage when the first words slipped from her mouth.
Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another.
When she grew bored with reading and having one sided arguments of the validity of the writers' opinions she sang, songs her grandmother had sung to her in languages I did not know. Even now I question if she has any idea what she's singing.
Never would I goad her...now, by telling her atleast one sung in Russian is a drinking song if my days with Karkaroff are anything to go by, instead when I awake teeth clinched, body tense, screams ghosting across the room she sings to me, and I relax into the sound of her voice, and when she's done singing she makes those sounds, not quite cooing, throaty vocalizations, they make me happy.
She was there when the mediwizards released the spell. Standing quiet, statue still in the corner of the room lips clenched between teeth, fingers knotted in stress, as they talked about me as if I could not hear them.
She smiled as I ripped each of them apart with my rusty voice, each one I flayed brought a fresh smile to her face and when I directed my gaze at her after the last nurse had left the room in tears, she gave me a sad smile and turned to leave.
"And where are you going Miss Granger?"
"I thought you'd want me to go Sir."
I flicked a glance to the current book of her choosing The Children of Gebelawi, and back to her.
"I find your verbal introspection interesting, continue."
It was a slow process. We argued a lot. She stormed out. I ordered her out. When my legs regained strength I swept from the room, although much of the grace is lost when dressed in muggle pajamas, yes she bought me pajamas!
But it was true friendship, a meeting of minds, mutual enjoyment without judgment, and trust.
When I was released she badgered me until I ashamed told her where I lived and she came, where like the force of nature she is, she remodeled my house without my permission. Making the house a home.
I brewed, she stood at my side learning; she was the one who gave Potter, the bane of my existence a pain potion of my creation. and when he gushed to its potency to none other but that bug of a witch Rita Skeeter I became the potioneer du jour; besieged by the wizarding world to create my brew for the public.
I patented and trademarked my brew, Potter's Pain Reliever, petty? Yes.
Selling it to Slugs and Jigger and others for a comfortable amount, if her smiles where anything to go by that had been her plan all along.
I would have been angry with anyone else, with her I found myself proud.
When she accepted the red headed idiot's ring, I smiled and toasted to her happiness; that was the day I realized I loved her standing in Molly Weasley's living room like a fool in a sea of red headed imbeciles. I begrudged the lackwit that was Ronald Weasley!
She was no Molly however, her dreams would never simmer on the back burner to family, she made him wait for the wedding; for how could he a Quidditch player travelling constantly, and she a student medi-witch start a family? They had time, they could accomplish some of their dreams then start a family.
The best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray, or in this case Ronald went astray.
Months away from the wedding a petite witch knocked on the Burrow's door with a thick accent and a red headed babe on her hip, there was no question if he was Ronald's the sight of the witch drained his face of all color.
She ran to me, red rimmed eyed, angry and embarrassed.
I fed her fire whiskey as we sat insulting the idiot until her eyes closed of their own volition.
I tucked her into my bed, and brewed hang over potion that she could face the day clear of mind and eye, selfishly praying all the while that she would not go back to the fool.
I did not have to worry. She changed her wards and gave notice at her tiny apartment where he had left his mark, packing her things up and sending them to Potter's.
She took a leave of absence, hiding from the world at my house. Potter came and sat with her looking like he felt, useless.
After a week I could take no more; I went ingredient hunting... in America and took her with me.
It was the most exasperating two weeks of my life! How could I have forgotten Hermione, student Hermione was brimming with questions? In a new country facing ingredients she'd never heard of she asked every question as it slipped across her brain to her lips.
It included the most amazing night of my life, when drunk on bourbon in the Tennessee mountains we kissed, we can't agree who kissed whom first but we can agree it shifted our paradigm as she leaned in and kissed me the second time.
We returned to England not as blind as we'd left, there were new options and we explored them... slowly.
I tried to woo her using established methodology, she called it trite after I sent her embroidered handkerchiefs. I sent books, she kissed me with such passion I rose to the occasion; it was an interesting time.
A few months later she came over still in her trainee robes hollowed eyed, walking in and pouring a large whiskey, I knew enough to leave her to her silence she would tell me what horror had driven her happiness away when she was ready, instead she sat on my lap
"Help me forget."
"There will be more tomorrow, there are always more horrors waiting."
No love had not left me a mewling optimist!
She sucked her teeth at me, grinding into me.
"I am only a wizard Hermione!"
"Oh I can tell Severus, what has the Potions Master been hiding under his robes?"
I wined her name, I am ashamed to admit it but it is not every day a beautiful young woman sits in my lap and request that we have sexual intercourse. I tried my gentlemanly best until she banished our clothes.
She offered me a breast as she rubbed herself along my length; with a nipple in my mouth I tried thinking of ways to manoeuvre us to the bedroom.
She held me in her hands, raised herself up and placed my head at her opening.
I shuddered in awareness.
"Do you want me Severus?"
"Hermione maybe we should wait? Custom dictates.."
She rubbed my head into her heat, words failed me
"Do you want me Severus?"
She started a slow slip down my length and I started a chant of
"So tight, so warm, so tight, oh Merlin!"
When I tried to move she shook her head,
She set the pace, my only job not to climax!
She rode me, and I sat and allowed her, head lolling back, eyes squeezed tight, fingers gripping her hips leaving finger prints.
I felt her pussy contract, tighten around me impossibly, and start to quiver.
I opened my eyes meeting hers, then looked down as she moved her hand from between us. I brought her hand up looking at her fingers for the tell tale sign of moisture pulling each finger into my mouth.
Her eyes widened as I sucked the one with her juices, I moaned and she ground against me, slipping a finger between us bringing it back dripping to offer me.
I tasted her again, sweet, salty, her slight musk scenting the air.
She ground against me and I lifted her. I though about pressing her against the wall but sticky charms seemed wrong the first time making love... fucking...making love.
Instead I placed her behind on the table in the corner of the room, it was the perfect height as she wrapped her legs around me and I did the most ungentlemanly thing and pounded into her, she called my name, and cursed.
"Oh God! So close, don't stop Severus, don't god damn stop! Fuccck!"
When she came the second time I followed her quickly, when I could think after we had cleaned up with flannels and tucked ourselves into my bed, I patted myself on my back; not a bad showing at all old chap.
After that she moved in..slowly.
Taking over a drawer, then two, then needing a hanger, which grew into half the wardrobe; by the time I asked her to be my wife she smiled and started to plan a walk in closet.
We married, it was expected yet frowned on greatly; the wizarding world would have preferred we remain living in sin than I Severus Snape bastard extraordinaire marry the pretty young heroine and best friend of Harry Potter.
Now she lays at my side round with child, my wife. The best thing that has ever happened to me, it's wonderful to be alive.
I decide to suckle her nipples; it is after all my birthday.