Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I’m going to Claudette’s Table for lunch. Would you like to join me?”

Severus looked up from his parchment in time to see Granger flicking her curls out of the collar of the ivory cloak she had just slipped over her shoulders. He liked her hair like that, big and wild because she had spent the morning fussing with it as she edited their proposal for extra funding. Not that he would ever tell her. 

He capped his inkwell and waved his wand, warding the sensitive material on his desk. The lunch invites had started soon after he joined the Cursed Artefacts Department. Severus didn't understand why but didn't find it in himself to complain. “Sure, let me stop by the loo first. I’ll meet you there.” 

She smiled, and the ridiculous twinkling Christmas lights she had insisted on hanging around the office as soon as December rolled around began blinking behind her, making her hair look like a halo. He cleared his throat and looked away, grabbing his own cloak from the hatstand before exiting the office in a hurry. 

Severus turned left and opened the first door. He hurried into a stall and cast a silencing charm, needing to have a moment alone. This stupid infatuation of his was getting worse by the day. He frowned, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth.  

It was something he had learned from a healer after the war, a decade ago now. The healer had been a quack but Severus had to admit that the breathing technique did help clear his mind. He inhaled once more. 

“So, you fucked her yet?” 

Severus opened his eyes as the door of the loo swung open, and two pairs of footsteps walked in. 

“Soon,” the other voice replied. 

“That’s what you said last month, McLaggen.”

“She’s been busy. I meant to take her out for dinner and then fuck her but she and that greasy git, Snape, have been working nonstop for months now,” the wizard—McLaggen— replied. “But I have a plan.”

Granger. They were talking about Granger. Without meaning to, his right hand disappeared into the pocket of his robes and tightened around the carved handle of his wand.

A faucet turned on, and the sound of water muffled the first wizard’s reply. The two shared a chuckle, and the water turned off. 

" —Christmas ball. A few glasses of champagne and a twirl or two around the dance floor, and then I’ll bring her to the third floor. Snickett’s office has been empty and unlocked since his retirement… "

The sounds of palms colliding echoed in the tiled restroom. He wondered if the sound of their skulls cracking against the marble sink would echo just as nicely.

“Nice. Don’t forget to swipe her knickers. You owe me a pair.” said the first wizard. 

“You’re a disgusting pervert, Flint,” answered McLaggen. 

“Of course I am,” the other man answered with a laugh. “What kind of knickers do you think Granger wears anyway?” 

The rest of the conversation was lost to Severus as the restroom door was opened and shut. 

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“Fuck! That hurts.” 

Severus looked up from his work to see Cormac McLaggen holding his hand to his chest, glaring at a sapphire ring. He flexed his wand hand, remembering the wizard’s talk about Granger the previous week. 

“You think the small shock from the warding hurts?” he drawled, waving his wand and levitating the ring to the blonde’s eye level. 

McLaggen lifted his hand up, displaying a pinkish spot on his palm. “It bloody did.”

“Perhaps, I should remove it and let you touch the ring instead,” Severus said darkly, flicking his wand, causing the ring to slowly rotate inches from the Sports and Games Department employee. “There's an old curse on the stone.” Maintaining the mesmerising rotation of the ring, Severus approached the lecherous prick. “It causes anyone touching the ring to experience a strong compulsion to slide it on.”

McLaggen’s eyes flickered from the ring to Snape. “And once one puts it on,” Severus continued, “it can’t be removed, and it slowly begins melting through the layers of skin, fat and bone just like acid. But it doesn’t just stop at the hand; the necrotic curse travels up your arm to your chest and eventually begins melting your organs from the inside out. Quite efficient, really.” 

McLaggen’s mouth popped open in horror as he stepped away from the ring. 

“Severus.” 

And then Granger’s hand was on his forearm. 

“Stop scaring everyone that steps in here,” she chided him the way one would a misbehaving puppy as she used her own wand to float the curse ring back to its cradle. “It’s hard enough to get funding for the Cursed Artefacts Department.”

“What can we help you with, Cormac?” she asked, waving at the tall fucker to step into their shared office. 

McLaggen had enough self-preservation instincts to keep his eyes on Severus as he followed Granger to her desk. The way the blonde eyed his wi…coworker made Snape want to bare his teeth and growl. Instead, he sat at his desk, brusquely reaching for the pile of release documents needing his signature. 

He had thought working as a cursebreaker for the Ministry would involve less paperwork than Hogwarts. He had been wrong. Pureblood families had hoarded cursed objects, and even with ten years since their forfeiture, they were still drowning in paperwork clamouring for their return.

McNair: cursed hair combs. DENIED . 

“So Granger,” 

Severus looked up to see the wizard leaning against the side of Granger’s workstation, leaning into her personal space and crowding her. Even from his desk, he could see her body language and how she angled her body away from his. Snape gritted his teeth and grabbed the next release request.

Burke: cursed cufflinks. APP… his quill slid mid-way through the word, landing on the form and causing a splatter of red ink. 

" —accompany me to the Ministry ball.”

He watched the red ink spread like a blood stain. It wasn’t his place to interfere. Flashes of Granger being spirited out of the ballroom and lead to an empty office on the third floor whirled through his mind. No. He wouldn’t let it happen. 

“Granger already has a date for the ball, McLaggen.” He heard himself say. 

The witch looked at him, puzzled for a split second before nodding vigorously. “Yes, Severus asked a few days ago,” she said, confirming his lie. 

The blonde looked between them and pushed himself off Granger’s desk, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I should have been quicker,” he said, winking at Snape, who considered using the eye-scooping spoon confiscated from Nott Manor on him.

“Save me a dance or two, Hermione,” he said as he made his way out of their office. 

Severus watched him leave before shutting the door with wandless magic, lest someone else decided to waltz in. 

“What was that about?” she asked. 

Severus didn’t look up. Instead, he lowered his head towards the stained parchment, letting his hair fall around his face like an inky curtain. “You seemed uncomfortable with his presence. I realise I overstepped and—”

He didn’t get to finish his apologies as she cut him off. “I would love to go with you.”

He snapped his head up to stare at the smiling witch. Her cheeks were stained pink and she did look rather pleased. He hadn’t meant to ask her out, only to fend off that creep, McLaggen, on her behalf, but once again, the words tumbled out of his mouth without his consent, and he found himself agreeing to take the witch to the ball. 

*********************************************************************************************************

She looked so fucking stunning that it made his mouth feel dry. Shimmery black fabric covered her from neck to toe, but it moved with her body like a water-like second skin, hinting at her curves in a way that made him imagine running his hands all over them. As if she wasn’t enough of a vision, Severus hadn’t noticed that the dress left her entire back uncovered until he pressed a hand to her bare skin, guiding her across the room. 

She felt warm and soft under his fingertips, and he couldn’t help but flex his hand, spreading his fingers wide against her lower back. He drank her in, her warm brown eyes accentuated by the tasteful smokey eye makeup and her glossy nude lips. He moistened his own lips with a quick swipe of his tongue, and she followed the movement. Severus let himself dream for a moment that his attraction to his former student, and now colleague, could be reciprocated. 

“Care to dance,” she asked him, breaking the spell. 

Severus cleared his throat and shifted his weight, trying to relieve the pressure on his hardening cock, grateful for the coverage awarded by loose-fitting dress robes. He nodded and scolded himself for being thankful to have the opportunity to touch her skin once more. 

He didn’t miss the envious expressions of numerous wizards —and a few witches— as he guided Granger to a corner of the dance floor and placed a hand on her waist, his fingers digging lightly into her soft flesh. He considered asking her about her tailor so he could send them an edible arrangement in thanks.

It felt right to have her in his arms. She squeezed his hand and Severus felt the corners of his lips twitch. They swayed to the music, perfectly in sync. 

“You’re an excellent dancer,” she said, biting her bottom lip. He was tempted to use his fingers to free the worried flesh and chide the witch, letting her know that if anyone were going to sink their teeth into her reddened plump lip, it would be him, but of course, he didn’t. 

The music came to a stop sooner than he would have liked to. He considered asking her for the next dance, but a large hand clamped on his shoulder. “Ah, Severus there you are. Miss Granger, if you can spare him for a moment, I promise I’ll bring him right back,” said the booming voice of the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

“Of course. You go, Severus. I’ll go find Harry,” she said, nodding politely to the Minister. 

He let himself be led to a gaggle of middle-aged wizards. “You remember Armando Gignolet?” He remembered the man alright. The man had been a tosser when they shared a dorm during their apprenticeship, and if the ridiculously large moustache he sported was any indication, he hadn’t changed since 1980. Severus nodded and extended a hand. 

Having mastered the art of pretending to take part in a conversation while being focused elsewhere as part of his years as a spy, Severus interjected at the right moments in the conversation, but his eyes were on the young curly-haired witch across the room. His eagerness to leave the conversation to go back to Granger multiplied exponentially when he spied that blonde fucker, McLaggen making his way toward her. 

He was too far to hear what was being said, but he could see her forced smile. Severus had watched Hermione long enough to be able to differentiate when she was genuinely pleased and when she put on a brave face to please people. He balled his fist when he watched the blond slide his hand on her exposed back and guide her towards the dance floor. Fuck it. 

“Gentlemen, if you would excuse me,” he said hurriedly, not caring in the slightest if they found him to be rude. 

Severus picked up a crystal tumbler full of amber liquid from one of the wait staff making rounds around the room. He kept his eyes on Granger and the boy—he didn’t care that McLaggen was pushing 30, but he still considered him a boy— and backed away towards a darker corner of the room. 

It had taken him almost a decade to stop carrying an assortment of potions wherever he went, but the vial Severus pulled from the inner pocket of his robes had been chosen purposely for the occasion. After making sure no one was paying him any mind, he tipped over the vial into the glass of scotch. 

With the doctored glass in hand, he walked purposely towards the dance floor with gritted teeth. He could see how Granger kept her body stiff and leaned away from the wizard, a far cry from how she had melted against him earlier. He fantasised about breaking McLaggen’s fingers when he watched him lower his hand from her waist to entirely too close to her hip as the music started to fade.

“Granger,” he said, stepping onto the floor, effectively blocking the dance partner’s path. “I apologise for taking so long.” He turned to McLaggen, taking a great deal of effort to tamp down his murderous look. He shoved the glass into the wizard’s now empty hand. “Thank you for keeping Granger occupied,” he announced before pulling the witch away. 

If Hermione was confused, she did not let it show. Instead, she willingly let herself be pulled into a slow dance. Severus kept his eyes on the Sports and Games wizard just long enough to watch him down the glass of scotch, before turning his eyes back to the witch in his arms. 

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand just as she had before. “He makes me uncomfortable.” 

Severus pulled her closer to his body, blaming some primitive instinct to shield Granger from everything. Protect and claim her. To his surprise, she leaned against him, closing her eyes with the ghost of a smile on her lips. “You smell good, Severus.”

“Thank you, so do you,” he answered without thinking. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his idiotic answer. Not that she didn’t smell great; in fact, he hoped the fresh smell of citrus would cling to his clothes and fill his nose long after they stopped dancing. It wasn’t any excuse for saying so. The last thing he needed was for her to think of him as a simpering idiot.

As the music faded, he let go of Hermione’s waist. To Severus’ surprise—not that he was of any mind to complain— she didn’t let go of his hand. “Can we go get some fresh air?” she asked. Her face was flushed, and her eyes had an intense shine to them that he couldn’t quite place. Snape wondered if she was starting to feel sick. 

“Of course,” he acquiesced, letting himself be pulled towards a set of French doors away from the crowd. 

The December air was crisp, but the stone balcony had been imbued with a permanent temperature control charm. He meant to ask her if she was warm enough, but the words never made it out of his mouth. The young witch caught him by surprise, putting her hands on his chest and lifting herself up on her tiptoes before crashing her lips against his. 

Oh.

She tasted like fucking sunshine, and Severus’ mind went blank. He returned the kiss with the same fervour until he felt the tip of her tongue, warm and sensuous, prod at the seam of his lips for entrance. He returned to his senses, gathering both of the witch's hands in one of his and leaning away from her. 

“Granger, are you drunk? Did McLaggen drug you?” His mind whirled, trying to come up with any nefarious scenario to explain her kissing him so enthusiastically. 

She narrowed her eyes and swiped her tongue against her reddened bottom lip. He felt himself harden at the sight. “No, of course not,” she replied. 

“But you’re….” Severus waved his free hand between them, unable to voice the actions lest he somehow wake up from this dream. 

“I’m kissing you, Severus.” If a solid stone wall had not been at his back, Severus swore he would have swayed. The sound of his name in her mouth was enough to send him reeling. His Granger-addled brain supplied numerous scenarios where she could repeat it like a prayer. 

“Yes,” he said, unable to think of anything more to say.

“Because I’ve been wanting to do this for years, and finally had enough for your obliviousness, not because that twat, Cormac McLaggen, drugged me,” she hissed, pulling her hands free of his grasp. 

He had never heard her swear before, and Severus found it oddly appealing. “For years…"

She didn’t stop her tirade, only taking a step closer to him. He couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of her dress did nothing to hide how erect her nipples were. He wondered if it was from the cold air or from kissing him. Salazar, he hoped it was from kissing him. His cock twitched. “So unless you don't want me to, kindly stop talking and kiss me again.” 

Years of imagining kissing, touching, and tasting the witch had his body moving in a flash as if it was old muscle memory and not the first time. Severus pulled her to him, one hand cupping the back of her neck, the other splayed against the curvature of her lower back. 

This time, it was his tongue that sought entrance. She let out a breathy sigh. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss. She tasted better than he ever imagined. 

“Fuck,” he breathed against her neck when the kiss broke. He didn't stop, running his nose against the curve of her jaw. He couldn’t help but press his lips there. Her skin tasted just as sweet as her mouth had, and he needed more. 

Instead of being repulsed by his touch, like he always imagined she would be those nights he went to sleep riddled with guilt, having spent himself to fantasies about the witch, she pressed her body against his more fully and titled her head, allowing him more access to her neck. 

His cock twitched and pressed against her hip. “I’m… I apologise,” he said, trying to get some distance between his erection and her body, but she had none of it and only pressed herself more firmly against it, pushing herself into him. 

“Stop ruining it.” She might have said more, but Severus stopped listening when her little hand snaked between their bodies and pressed on his wool-covered hardness. It was his turn to moan against her neck. 

“ Granger .” He didn’t know if it was a warning or a plea. She squeezed him through his pants. “Teasing witch,” he hissed while nipping at her neck, kissing and sucking the delicate skin while he involuntarily bucked against her hand. 

“I’m not teasing. I absolutely plan on following through,” she replied as her other hand came up to the back of his head, pressing him into her, her fingers pulling at the strands. “I want you to fuck me, please.”

He let his hand roam further down, gripping a handful of her arse. He had admired it for so long in those tight, smart muggle skirts she wore to the office. “You wan—”

The door to the balcony swung open, and they only had a split second to jump away from each other. Hermione greeted the cockbloc—ballgoers and let them know they were welcome to the space, as they were just about to go back in. Severus followed her in. 

He thought being interrupted would have brought the witch to her senses, so he steeled himself to make a quick exit before hurrying back home to take himself in hand. But to his surprise, she cast a wandless muffliato . “I need you in me right now,” she said primly while waving to someone across the room as if she wasn’t just propositioning her officemate. She was a devious, enticing witch. 

He’d hate himself in the morning, but he wasn’t going to waste any chance of reaching heaven between her thighs. Severus Snape knew he was many things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. He guided her through the room. He could take her to his home, unless she preferred her flat. Severus was still debating when he spied McLaggen making his way towards them across the room. 

A thought crossed his mind, and Severus knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He leaned towards the witch as they climbed the marble stairs out of the ballroom. “Alfred Snickett’s office on the third floor is empty…” he offered. The cheeky witch grinned, and he watched her press the lift button to go up. 

By the time they reached the third floor, his necktie was half undone, and her hair was falling from its pinned updo. It took him two tries to get a simple silencing charm up because Granger was busy opening his shirt buttons.

Her sharp little nails dug into the skin of his chest, and he hissed, turning around and lifting her by the waist. He crossed the room and sat her on the vacant desk. Severus kissed her deeply until his lungs screamed for air. “You’re sure you want this?” he asked, shrugging his outer robes off and working on his cufflinks without taking his eyes off the witch. 

In lieu of an answer, Granger reached behind her neck and unzipped the collar of her dress, letting the entire front of her dress fall and exposing her bare breasts to him. 

He didn’t hesitate. Her skin was softer than he ever imagined it to be—and he imagined it often. Granger’s fingers were back in his hair, tugging him closer as his lips closed around a deliciously pink nipple. He sucked on the flesh and then grazed his teeth on the hardened peak. She hissed and moaned his name as he soothed the bite of pain with a swirl of his tongue. 

“I…I need you,” Hermione stammered, her hands going to his belt. 

Severus closed his eyes, trying to imagine Dolores Umbridge naked…anything to keep himself from spending in his trousers like an overeager teenager when her small hand slipped past his waistband and closed around his length. 

He let go of her breast and buried his face into her neck, making her cry out. His hands reached her thighs and gathered the fabric in his fists, pushing the hem of the dress up and up until her golden skin was exposed. “I want to taste you,” he growled, nibbling the skin of her ear as he pressed his palm to her core. The warm heat of her cunt through the flimsy barrier of her lace knickers made him thrust into her hand. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

She let out a whine at that. “I.. I can’t wait. I need you in me. Please.” She stroked him as she begged. 

Disappointment must have shown on his face because she added, “Fuck me, Severus, and then take me to your place, and we can taste each other all night.” 

He lifted his head to search her face for any trace of a lie but found none. Her cheeks were flushed, and her pupils blown wide. She stroked him once more. “I’ve wanted to taste you for a long time too. I refused to be rushed,” she boldly declared. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. He couldn’t think straight. She wanted him— for a long time too. He refused to analyse that and instead stepped between her invitingly parted thighs. 

He sought her eyes for consent only to find her smirking. Severus looked down to see the witch pushing her knickers to one side, exposing the most beautiful glistening peachy flesh. Instead of words, she used her grip on his cock to rub the tip up and down her slit. 

“Fuck, witch,” he growled, burying his face into her curls. 

“Yes, fuck your witch,” she replied breathlessly. 

Your witch. The words spurred him, and he sheathed himself in her with one sharp thrust. They both moaned in unison. “Fucking Salazar, Fuck… so fucking tight...so fucking good.” 

“Yes…yes,” she replied. She wrapped her legs around his slim waist, locking her ankles behind his back and her arms around his neck as if she were trying to climb into his very skin. 

The feel of her, of her breasts on his chest, of her cunt clenching hard around his cock. It was overwhelming. He had fucked plenty of witches over the years, but none that he ever cared for.  Severus never thought sex could be like that. He couldn’t stop kissing her, as held her to him, his thrusts fast, and deep. It was too much, too good. He wouldn’t last. 

“Sev’rus…Sev,” she kept repeating his name against his mouth, and each drag of his cock tore a small moan from her. He wanted to sear that sound into his very brain. 

“I won’t last long, love,” he said, not even caring that the pet name had slipped his mouth. 

“S’ok,” she slurred between her rhythmic sounds of pleasure. 

Severus snaked his hand between their bodies and used his thumb to draw small circles on her clit. He wanted her to come before he did. He needed to feel her come. 

“Oh, fuck, Sev!” she cried before dropping her head to his shoulder and sinking her teeth into his skin to try to muffle the sound.

Severus snapped his hips, reaching for her hair with his free hand to pull her off him. “No, I want to hear you,” he breathed. “I need to hear you. You’re so fucking perfect.”

His balls tingled, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He used the desk for leverage to change the position of his hips, trying to reach that sweet spot. Almost instantly, her breathing changed. Her walls began fluttering, and he only fucker her harder. “Yes,” he hissed. “Just like that. Come, Hermione. Let me see you come.”

The sight of her lost to her orgasm was too much, and Severus couldn’t hold it any longer. He moaned her name as he came deep inside her, her perfect, tight cunt milking him to the last drop.

It took them both a moment to catch their breath, but eventually, she uncrossed her ankles and freed him. Severus accio’ d his wand to clean them both up before reaching for his shirt. She was so fucking beautiful. 

“I want to do this again and again,” she said, and not wanting to risk her changing her mind, he simply nodded with a tentative smile. “How did you know Snickett’s office would be empty?” she asked. 

Severus paused his buttoning and winced slightly. “Don’t be angry…I heard McLaggen bragging he would bring you in here after plying you with drinks.”

Hermione paused midway through hiking her knickers back up her legs, and Severus would have laughed at the comical situation had it not been for the murderous look on her face. “He said what?” she shrieked. The question was rhetorical as she continued getting dressed whilst ranting. “Wait until I get a hold of that pompous, bloody….good-for-nothing prick!”

“Already took care of it,” Severus replied, gathering her high heels off the floor and bringing them over to her. 

She used his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped into the shoes. “What did you do?” 

“Let’s just say one should be more careful with their drinks, or they might find that their scotch contained a hair loss potion, which, when combined with alcohol, has the unfortunate side effect of causing impotence in wizards,” he drawled. 

Hermione didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled him into a heated kiss. “You evil and brilliant, wizard.” 

He tried and failed to hide a smile. “He deserves it.”

“He does,” she agreed. “Enough about McLaggen. I believe you promised to take me home now. Something about tasting and being tasted,” she teased. 

Severus didn’t need to be told twice.