Literary Pursuits

"YOU mean we've spent the last HOUR arguing over . . . a fucking homophone and semantics instead of an idea? You intentionally took the obscure definition of the word in order to be arbitrary. Didn't you? DIDN'T YOU? You. . .you . . . ARGH!"

Although the library had been warded by no less than three order members against their constant bickering, Hermione and Severus' row made it into the hallway, rendering those wards completely useless.

"Umpf, I think Hermione just called Snape gay." Ron mouthed around a spoon of ice cream.

Harry looked amused but made absolutely no comment as he upended his own spoon, licked it clean then admired his upside down reflection in it.

Harry grinned.

o ~ o ~ o

After the war, and all was revealed, it seems that the men of the Order had come to a type of truce, and with all of the celebrity, Harry offered all parties on the right side involved an open invitation to use his home as a safe-haven from that nonsense.

His home was filled with lively conversation, excellent libations, and a devil-may-care attitude pervading, for the most part. It had become a place of respite, camaraderie and community. Harry's new family was one of his own construct, as opposed to blood.

Every laugh, every kind act, even the in-house bickering made him content with the fact that he had his closest friends and trusted allies around him still. He would do anything for them, as they have already done for him. He was just waiting for his chance to reciprocate out of affection and gratitude, even if he'd never admit it aloud.

o ~ o ~ o

The walls reverberated with a slam of Hermione's bedroom door as its echo ushered Severus Snape into the kitchen.

The young men looked up simultaneously and smiled broadly. Ron chimed up, "Looks like the honeymoon is over for the lovebirds, Harry."

The dark brooding man cracked a sheepish grin as he made his way to the container of ice cream and Accio'ed a bowl and spoon. He swished the coffee that was in the pot on the stove around and poured a bit over his treat, sitting down to eat with as much gusto as the young duo. He grinned again.

"It amazes me to no end how you two failed to provoke her daily, if just to raise her ire. It is amusing to no end. She literally turns pink."

Snape stirred the coffee moat around his ice cream as he continued. "One would typically disagree, however I think she enjoys a good knock-down, draw-out to keep her mind exercised."

Harry deadpanned, "You are frightening me. I'm hoping you'll eat your ice cream now, so your mouth is occupied."

Ron added, "I think you two make the perfect match . . . in hell." Wiping his mouth with a napkin to the quiet surprise of both of his companions, who couldn't believe he knew how to use one.

"I'll be damned if I'm the one to check on her this time. I'm no genius, as you've all pointed out, but I'm not stupid." Ron picked up his broom and headed for the back door.

"I don't want my head torn off. Snape, you put her in this mood, its your turn to get her out of it." Harry finished his as well and walked his bowl over to the sink.

Severus closed his eyes, savoring the ice cream melting on his tongue as he dreamed up more incites for the fiery and wholly underutilized witch.

If she needed to keep her mind sharply honed, he was just the wizard to give her the figurative whetting stone on which to do it.

Scribbling on a piece of paper, Hermione silently fumed at the audacity of her former potion's master. How dare he needle her so, and for no reason what-so-ever.

Unlike Harry and Ron, who were usually unwilling participants to her rages, whether being the reason or merely being present for them, she realized that Severus Snape was quite the instigator.

Picking up the paper upon which was a rather good sketch of her former professor, Hermione took great pleasure in stabbing her quill through it, forcefully into the anatomically correct doodle's bollocks.

As an afterthought, Hermione noted that she had drawn his manhood even more pronounced than his nose. He may like to argue, and perhaps has gotten my goat a few times, but I'll get mine, Hermione thought to herself.

And then she smiled at the paper. He doesn't really know what I'm capable of. By the end of the day, he will get his.

Being such an avid reader, Hermione had perused almost every title in the Black family library, and was more than a third of the way into reading each of them. And while she usually didn't comment on other's choices, she couldn't help but notice that a certain professor (with whom she spent countless hours reading along side of) was, time and time again, drawn to a certain racy little number. She had read that particular book one summer, and noted with surprise, that she found the book rather scintillating and . . . creative.

It was time he got a taste of his own medicine.

She would take that book-Pluck it from its resting place right in front of him, yank out his bookmark and toss it over her shoulder as she walked right out of the Library.

Hermione knew that if he saw that little act of defiance, it would completely undo him.

No one else in that house had the audacity to ruffle Severus Snape's inky feathers.

Her heart tattooed within her ribcage to think of what would happen in the aftermath.

This will show him that I know HIS pressure points too, Hermione mused.

To set the stage, Hermione decided that she would act as if their little tiff never took place in order to turn the tables on her adversary.

o ~ o ~ o

Severus looked up from his book to notice the back of a leggy, curvaceous brunette closing the library doors. He couldn't help but notice that whoever this was, her impossibly high heels added a facet to her calves which made fingers tingle. Her toned legs were bare, and stopped at the shortest little black dress he ever had the pleasure to see.

At first, he thought that he had fallen asleep and this was a fantasy worthy of memorizing for "later use", until the visage turned around and he received a second jolt as his ex-student smiled demurely and scaled the ladder to one of the highest shelves.

Hermione felt the jitters running through her body as she listened to the subtle noises in the room. Feeling coquettish, she moved one of her stilettos to the bookshelf, situating her knees as widely apart as possible. Stretching, stretching for the book she desired, she looked over her shoulder at her companion, noting his covert attempt at shifting his hardened member to a more comfortable angle.

"Ahh…Aaahhh…" Hermione made little noises as she reached for the one book farthest from her in a little hard-to-reach nook. Quite sure the view from his angle was verging on pornographic, her fingernail caught the top of the binding, angling the book out enough to grasp.

In her smugness this afternoon, she forgot to scuff the bottoms of her newest pair of shoes and lost her footing.

The squeak that Hermione made was from the skid of her foot on the ladder rung. At first she sounded like a frightened church mouse, The squeal she made immediately after was definitely piglet.

Hermione found herself hanging from her fingertips as the rolling stairs did what they were designed to do.

At the noise, Severus sprung toward her. His hands grabbed her outer thighs, whispering, "I've got you."

Hermione felt her whole face redden with the intimate contact. She noted that Severus had his thumbs wedged in the bottom creases of her bum, like she was sitting on the palms of his hands, perched high above his head.

"In my haste, I opted to help you 'hands on'. Stay still until I reposition you".

Hermione felt her wand pressing into her sternum as her upper half was still pressed firmly to the shelving. She felt his arms pinning her legs on either side, and then he guided her down slowly, his hands skimming now to her waist, bringing her little black dress with them. Next, she felt his smooth face skim the backs of her legs as he let her slide slowly down in his embrace. Oh Gods, she whimpered in her brain as she felt his breath on the backs of her knees.

Severus couldn't contain the grin when his movement happened to serendipitously hike up her dress, noting her bum was on a crash course with his nose.

He firmly decided to draw this out.

Noting her whimper, Severus shushed her, saying, "Don't worry, Miss Granger, my eyes are closed." He said this while staring directly at the little triangle of fabric where front met thong-floss above his head, noting the whole body shiver it produced in her.

Hermione was absolutely mortified that she could feel his breath, his voice right on her quim, and the effect was immediate and acute. The vibrations of his words and the heated puff of his breath, felt better than anything she had felt before. Praying he didn't recognize the telltale signs, she wondered if he recognized what that just did to her.

His deep inhale as her rump met his chest did not bode well, and she could feel her knickers completely sodden, completely beyond her control. If he asked, she would blame her forceful orgasm on the excitement of nearly killing herself, and that he, Severus Snape, had absolutely nothing to do with it.

On solid ground, Severus spun her around and tilted her bright red face toward his.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" Hermione noted he was not going to release her chin until she looked him in the eye. His body was a hair's breadth away, and with every lungful of air she took, her breasts met his chest.

Oh gods, how did he get the upper hand on me again? "I'm fine, Mr. Snape." She finally met his gaze and saw how his concern morphed instantly into mirth.

"Good. I'll keep this incident between us. I don't think your friends would understand that I just spent the last few minutes with your bum in my face…or that your thong showcases it so well that it is more tantalizing than a puff pastry."

Now he couldn't help but be reduced to pure and unadulterated laughter.

Her scream as she shoved him aside was blood curdling, and he implored behind her. "Please, Miss Granger…I was only guessing!" before he doubled over, slapping his knees in a very uncharacteristic way.

The last thing she heard before she busted the door jamb with her forceful slam was, "When you come back, can you bring me a cherry Danish?"