Written for Subversa at HP_conenvy, who requested: SSHG, holiday, and an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini. Disclaimer: HP isn't mine, and never will be. More's the pity.

Hermione pulled at the fabric inching its way across her arse.

"Damn," she muttered.

"Hermione? What is taking so long?" The brusque voice came from outside the beach tent.

She frowned, her anxiety sky-rocketing. "N-nothing, Severus. I'm still getting dressed."

There was a sigh of frustration that filtered past the barrier. "I realise that witches take longer to make themselves presentable, but surely even you would concede that three quarters of an hour is excessive to don swimwear?"

She bit her lip to keep from growling at her new husband. France had been her choice when Severus had asked where she would like to honeymoon. Relaxing at Biarritz Beach had been her choice of activity for this particular day. And the brand new purple bikini with yellow polka dots had been her choice of swimsuit, a sort of surprise for Severus—and herself, if she were honest—hoping it would look enticing enough on her awkward frame.

Looking into the Transfigured full-length mirror, Hermione decided she had made horrible choices. That, or she'd chosen the wrong size, because the bikini top barely covered her modest bosom and the shorts kept sliding into her arse crack. She had always had issues with her self-esteem when it came to her body, and these scraps of clothing just accentuated everything she felt could be improved.

"If you're not out of that tent in one minute, Mrs. Snape, I shall come in there after you."

And Hermione knew he would, too. Panicking, she transfigured the mirror into a very lengthy sarong and covered herself with it from shoulder to knees. If she had to go out there, at least she would be decent.

Severus arched a brow when his wife appeared. "A red and gold sarong is your bathing attire? My dear, did you spend all that time trying to remember how to tie a knot?"

She looked askance, fidgeting. "No. I made a last minute change."


Her head dropped. "Because," she whispered, on the verge of tears.

He tilted her chin so that she had no choice but to look at him. "Where is my brave Gryffindor, hmm?" His thumbs brushed away the moisture that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. "Your vulnerabilities are the same as mine, love, yet here I am, dressed in nothing more than black swim trunks. Come now. Let me see what lies beneath."

Bolstered by Severus' admission, she nodded hesitantly and slowly untied the knot holding the sarong in place. When the gauzy fabric pooled at her feet, she was amazed at the heated look her husband gave her.

"Turn around," he said gruffly.

She did, gradually pivoting in the white sand that warmed her bare feet. She could feel her breasts slip past the fabric meant to cover them and the shorts slid higher on her hips, giving her husband a healthy view of her arsecheeks. She squealed when Severus grabbed her, and with a growl, shoved them both back into the beach tent.

"You bought this to tempt me, didn't you?" Severus grunted in her ear, pressing their bodies close, his erection jutting against her hip.

"Maybe," she said breathlessly. "Did it work?"

He deftly untied one side of the bikini bottoms and ran his hand over the curve of her arse. "Only too well. I am not generous enough to share your beauty with the public at large."

She gasped when his fingers delved between her sodden folds, softly stroking her clit. "So I'm not allowed to wear this bikini in public?"

"Absolutely not. This," he growled, pumping his fingers into her hot core, "is meant for the bedroom. I will buy you another suit for the beach." He freed his shaft from the confines of his trunks. "A one-piece." He hefted her up and bade her wrap her legs around his waist. "In plain brown." They both groaned as he slipped inside her, thrusting until he was fully seated.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. This was what she loved about Severus: his hunger and passion for her, the way he made her feel, as if she were the centre of his world. As he plunged deep within her, she rained kisses upon his face, his thrusts becoming an urgent rhythm. She arched into each drive of his hips, the force nearly overwhelming.

"Every time you look at this bikini, you will remember how inflamed it made me to see this colour pressed flush against your golden skin." He angled himself and drove back into her, but this time, achingly slow, drawing out the intense passion that was mounting with every thrust. "You will remember that you are beautiful, without and within, and that I will always desire you."

His words were all she needed to send her over the edge, drawing him with her. They peaked with hoarse shouts as each pulse of his seed flooded her core. Shuddering and breathless, Hermione clung to her husband, her heart irrevocably bound to this wizard, and came to the realisation that her choices were not horrible at all.

They were perfect.