Chapter Text
Severus Snape left the inmates to run the asylum and sought the tranquility of his office. He swung open the door and slammed it behind him, sighing and closing his eyes as the permanent Silencing Charm engaged. He opened them again when a cloying smell hit him. Yet another contemptibly large vase of white lilies was perched on Granger's desk. He contemplated Vanishing it, but decided it wouldn't be prudent. Instead, he surrounded the vase with a Containment Charm and cleansed the air.
Sinuses assuaged, he dropped his stack of reports down on his desk with a thwack and sat, ready to attack the monthly budget. Well, as ready as he ever was.
Thirty minutes later, Granger swept into the room from the door opposite his and, with a heedless flick of her wand, Vanished the offending flowers. He thought he detected a bit of extra flare in her wrist movement.
"That bad?" he asked, looking back down at his papers.
She sat down in her own chair; her desk abutted his, and looked over at him. "Worse." She set out her own reports, color-coded and indexed, and snatched up a quill. "He asked me to marry him."
Snape raised an eyebrow without bothering to look up. "Who was this again? I thought it was a first date?"
"Simon Adorné, down in Records Keeping."
"That huge ape of a man with the moustache? Really, Granger. What were you thinking? A blind person could see he was desperate after his wife had left him. He wants another mother-substitute."
"Yes, well, I didn't know his wife had left him, did I? I didn't know him at all. All I saw was how wide his shoulders were under those robes, and I thought that moustache had possibilities."
"You're desperate, Granger."
"No. I was desperate a year ago. Now I'm turning demented. Is it really that hard?"
"Mine? Not at the moment. Expense reports were never my kink."
She giggled and settled down to her own paperwork.
They took lunch at their desks, complaining endlessly about the fools that worked in their respective departments. Snape was in charge of the Ministry Department of Potion Patents, and Granger was in charge of the Department of Forensic Investigation for the Aurors. A year ago they had finally become irritated at how often she was running back and forth into his office to consult, and had decided to take over the room between their respective labs as their mutual office. It had seemed like a perfectly rational thing to do at the time, and it had worked out surprisingly well. They'd been sniping about the stupidity of their employees over lunch ever since.
Granger tidied up the remains of her meal.
"You're not eating that gherkin?" he asked, reaching to pluck it out of her sandwich box before she could snap the lid back on.
"Take it. I fancied it this morning but I think I should cut back on my salt a bit."
"Why?"
"My ankles have been swelling."
"You need to exercise more. Standing at your cauldron all day is as bad as sitting all day."
"If I had time to exercise, I would have time to do far more important things. I'll just cut down on salt, thank you."
He ate the last of the pickle. "Apparate farther away from home and walk the rest of the way every day. And keep your ankles higher than your heart at night to let the swelling go back down."
She snorted and stood up. "I'm trying to find a way to keep my ankles over my head. Don't add more pressure."
"Bloated ankles won't help your search."
"Really? Men care about ankles? I thought they rarely looked below the breasts."
He rolled his eyes when he realized she was serious. "Get out, Granger."
*
Three weeks passed before more flowers arrived.
Snape and Hermione both looked up when Brunardo, their shared office assistant, opened the third door of their office and stomped up to their desks carrying yet another enormous arrangement of freesia, gladiolas, and the detested lilies. He plopped it down on Hermione's desk with a scowl, and turned and stomped back out of the room, closing the door with a bit too much firmness for decorum.
"Don't go there," Snape muttered.
"Go where?" she asked, reaching for the card attached to the bouquet.
"You were looking at Bruno's arse."
"I never noticed how perky it was. And it's Brunardo," she sniffed, rolling her 'r' and Vanishing the flowers. "His accent earns points, too."
"He doesn't bat that way, Granger. I'd have a better chance with him than you would."
She looked up, surprised. "Do you go that way? I never knew."
"No, I do not. I was simply explaining the futility of whatever actions that gleam in your eye precipitated. You will just scare him off, and most likely leave yourself open for a sexual harassment case."
"Well, it's my turn to scare one off, now isn't it? You made the last three run for the hills."
"Yes, but it wasn't because I was trying to get my depraved hands in their knickers. They were incompetent." He tossed his quill down and sat back. "Besides. Kingsley said we had to keep this one for at least a year, or we'll have to do our own filing from now on. I detest filing. Bruno stays, and you will keep your eyes in your head." He gestured to the note. "Who's this now?"
"Jonathan Whimple. I had such hopes for him, too."
"What went wrong?"
She sighed and tossed him the note, watching him read, and reciting it in her head along with him.
'My Dearest Hermione,
'I know it has only been a short while since we met in the pub, but I needed to tell you that I am living a lie. I know I told you that I wasn't interested in anything more, but I cannot get you out of my thoughts. I must come clean. I feel I am falling head-over-heels for you, my little goddess. I almost overstepped myself last night and ruined everything. I came so close to again callously seeking your bed. The fact that I restrained, is a measure of how much I respect, and admire you. Any other woman and I would have heartlessly taken what I could of her charms and disregarded honor. With you, my dove, all is different. I want to woo you in earnest, and to that end, I would like to extend an invitation for dinner this weekend. I would like you to meet my mother.
'Waiting with baited breath for your response,
'Jonathan.'
Snape's sharp features grew more repulsed with each passing moment. He finally tossed the note back on her desk as if it were infected. "How do you find these cretins? And what the hell do you do to them?"
She shook her head, staring at the note. "I have no idea. I'm a cretin magnet. I just want to have a nice shag, is that really too difficult? I don't want a bloody relationship. They're too much work, and far too distracting. I have a career to see to. I don't have time to cuddle and snuggle and make sacrifices. I want sex. Stone, cold fucking. Every time I go out for a drink with my friends, they hook up with all manner of creeps willing to do fabulously appalling things to them without ever bothering to get to know their names. I keep getting these gits that respect me. Occasionally one might be good for a romp, and then it's always straight to the marriage proposal."
"What the hell are you wearing when you go out? I bet you wear a string of pearls and a cardigan, don't you?"
She held up the note by two fingers and waved it around. "Last Friday I went out with Lavender and Cho. I dressed like a total slag. I even straightened my hair. Do you know how long this damned hair is when I straighten it?" She grabbed a hank of insane curls. "It's down to my arse! Five pounds of make-up, thigh-high boots, PVC mini skirt and no knickers! PVC! Not leather. I practically screamed 'cheap'! Where in all that does it say, 'I want to meet your mum'?"
Snape's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and then snapped back down. "Perhaps a little less detail next time, yes?"
She blinked. Her mind snapped up the fact that his cheeks had flushed and ran off with it, crowing like a child with a new toy.
"Why? Did I excite you?"
"You? No. Little PVC skirts sans knickers? I'm a simple man, Granger. Umbridge would excite me in that get-up."
She opened her mouth to delve further into this line of thought, but their office chose that moment to tremble. Papers fluttered off the desk and dust sifted down from the ceiling. Snape closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his spectacle of a nose.
"I think that was one of yours," she said, pointing to the smoke curling in from under the door leading to his labs.
"Gobshites," he muttered, pushing away from his desk.
As Snape whipped open his door and stalked off, bellowing at his incompetent staff, Hermione's mind swirled with new possibilities. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at his arse disappearing into a cloud of smoke.
*
It took her two weeks to work up the nerve to act on her 'Crazy Idea that would Solve All Her Problems'.
"When's the last time you got laid, Snape?"
"Four years, three months, and sixteen days ago."
"Bloody hell. That was a few months after the battle, wasn't it?"
"Just under six months. It took that long for word to get around that although I might have been pretending to be a villain, I wasn't pretending to be a bastard. Until then, I took full advantage of the dim-witted trollops that wanted to shag an anti-hero, whatever the fuck that was."
"Good for you."
He set his report to the side, reached into his desk drawer, and pulled out his lunch. She cleared her desk and did the same.
"Why nothing since then?" she asked, pulling apart the wrapping on another ham salad baguette.
"Mostly for the same reasons as you. I couldn't be arsed to care enough about anyone else, and my right hand is sporting enough not to whine that I'm not sensitive enough about its feelings. Unlike you, I'm not desperate enough to wade through the mass of genetic flaws to find a partner willing to forgo the usual claptrap that comes with shagging. I'm perfectly content with solitude."
She smiled like a shark. "What would you say to an arrangement?" She cleared her throat. "Between us?"
His head came up immediately, and he stopped chewing. He stared at her with his cheeks full of liver sausage and onion doorstep. Since his mouth was full, he simply raised an eyebrow.
"Honestly, it's a perfectly practical solution. Neither one of us wants a relationship, and we get on well enough, don't we? I'm not the jealous, possessive type. If you did find someone down the road, I'm not going to turn all weepy and try to cling. It will be just business as usual, with physical relief on the side. What do you think?"
He chewed the idea over. She assumed from his expression that the idea apparently tasted a lot like his weird liver sausage concoction.
"What if it started to affect our work?" he asked, wiping his lips with a napkin.
"Why would it? We both know how important our jobs are to each other. I think we know our boundaries. We respect each other. Isn't that better than all that other emotional silliness?"
He tilted his head to the side. "It could work. I'd have to think about it."
She sighed, dropping her head on her fist. "For how long?"
"Good lord, Granger. Show some restraint. The idea of shagging me can't be that appealing."
"I've already soaked my knickers."
His eyebrows shot up, and his Adam 's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "At least give me until the end of the day. If I agree, there will be no shagging on Ministry time. Is that clear?"
"Absolutely," she replied, lying through her teeth.
*
Snape was at his desk going over an inventory sheet, when she walked back into their office.
"The day is over, have you made a decision?" she asked, dropping several folders into Brunardo's basket for filing in the morning.
"I have," he replied, not looking up from the clipboard. "Are your knickers still wet?"
"Probably. I'm not sure. I threw them out two hours ago. I suppose they've had enough time to dry, but I wouldn't bet on it."
"Sensible plan," he drawled. "Did your department use any tungsten powder last month?"
"I believe so, let me check. Are you going to shag me?"
"Yes, as soon as I find this shortage."
Hermione squealed and danced in a little circle, before checking her own usage records.
"We used twenty ounces on the fifth. It was that Dealy case I told you about. Where my team proved it was magnetic poisoning?"
"Oh, yes. That was good work."
"Thank you. Does that answer your questions? Can we start? I just started leaking again."
"Almost." He rolled his chair back from his desk, still ticking things off on the clipboard. "Hop up here. I'm almost through."
She danced over and sat on his desk, nearly bouncing up and down with excitement.
"We're missing three bottles of tincture of aconite," he said with a huff.
"Didn't one of the Unspeakables take some a few weeks ago?"
"Did they? Bastards, they never sign off on anything."
"I think they're trying to be mysterious."
"It's not like we don't know who they are, the sodding gits. I'll go and find out in the morning."
He tossed the clipboard to the side and rolled forward, taking hold of her robes and tossing them up, nearly over her head.
"Wait, aren't you going to kiss me first?"
"Not your face," he replied, running his smooth hands up her thighs. "What's the point? You want kisses, find a boyfriend. Now open up."
She sighed happily and spread her legs, dropping her head back and closing her eyes.
"How many times do you want to orgasm?" he asked, pulling her legs over his shoulders.
Her head snapped back up. "How many times can you do it?"
"Me? Once. I already had a wank in the loo earlier to try and make this last more than three minutes. You? There's no saying. What's your record?"
"With a partner? Once."
"Well, aren't you in for a surprise," he said, his voice already muffled.
She grinned like an idiot and dropped back onto her elbows. "I do so like surprises," she said in a breathy voice.
He grazed her nether curls with the backs of his knuckles, and she felt the hot puff of his breath as he sighed. Leaning forward, he flattened his tongue and licked her from stern to stem, before spreading her apart with his fingers and getting down to more detailed work. With a groan that seemed to come from the depths of her soul, she closed her eyes and smiled.
"Fucking hell," he muttered. "If I knew you tasted this sweet, Granger, I'd have eaten you out ages ago and spared us all those wretched flowers."
"Less talk, more flick," she hissed.
He nodded and got serious. His tongue was everywhere, as was his ridiculous nose. Within the first two minutes, Hermione was pretty sure that Snape's nose should be declared a national treasure. He could stroke her clit with his tongue and then slide down and lap up her pleasure, but never lose his rhythm. His nose would just take over the pace and keep her dancing toward nirvana. By the time he added his long, dexterous fingers, she was a gooey puddle of moan.
"Oh, god, Snape. You are so fucking good at this!"
"I know," he rumbled into her twat.
She intended to laugh at his arrogance, but it came out more like, "Fuck-yes-right-there-right-there-right-there!"
He kept the two fingers inside her moving, and wrapped his lips around her nub and sucked. She blew apart with a wail, a few phrases that were grammatically incorrect, and a pledge to be a very good girl for the rest of her days if he could do that again.
He did.
The second time she came, she nearly strangled him with her thighs. When she realized what all the thrashing meant, she uncrossed her ankles and let him breathe. He jumped up out of his chair and started fumbling at the buckle of his belt. She leaned up to help but he shoved her back down with a grunt, groping a breast in the process. He finally managed to free his cock, and her eyes opened wide at the sight. He smirked at her, before looking back down and guiding it into position. He shoved his hips forward, but then his eyes seemed to roll in two different directions and his head fell to the side. Obviously, he hadn't been expecting to have to work himself inside.
"You're so big," she sighed happily.
"Fuck, Granger, I had no idea you'd be so tight." His voice had lost a good deal of its usual jaded calm. It was nearing a hoarse rasp.
"What did you expect? I've only had sex eight times. I haven't done it enough to stretch anything."
He gave a slight shudder and made the strangest of noises, as he finally sank to the hilt. He stopped and looked down on her. "Ever?"
"What the hell have you been listening to me complain about for the last year?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure half the time. I don't always listen."
"You arse."
"You didn't really think I was the type to pay attention to shite like that, did you?"
She stuck her tongue out at him and tightened her muscles. He whined. It was pretty close to a whine anyway. He pulled out, and sank back in, and she sighed happily and flopped back down on their desks. "Gods, that's lovely. Carry on, I forgive you."
He did.
He bent her knees over his elbows, gripped her thighs with his hands, and fucked her as if their life depended on it. She was nearly delirious. There was no doubt that Snape was the best lover she'd ever had. With only four in her past, it wasn't too hard to distinguish one's self. Instinct told her that he was above average by anyone's standards. She watched him—chin tucked down to chest, and greasy hair hiding his face, chest pumping like a sprinter—as he took her. Gods, it was delicious. Snape. At work. On the desk. She felt her belly flutter just from the thought. She panicked suddenly, unsure if he was enjoying himself enough to ensure there would be a repeat performance in the future. He was awfully quiet.
Knowing she sounded like a dolt, she still asked, "Is it good?"
His head drifted up, and his hair fell out of the way, revealing his expression as he moaned in reply.
Jumping Jehosaphat, Snape was gone. His face was slack and his mouth hung open, and his eyes… His eyes were glazed with lust.
Her belly fluttered again and it rolled right into an orgasm that was almost sweet and gentle in its intensity. She gasped and found herself unable to look away as his eyes widened and his mouth formed an 'o' of pleasure. He shoved in as far as he could and threw his head back, letting go with a throaty rasp of a groan. She felt him pulsing deep inside her, as her body twitched its contented reply.
Trembling from his release, he sank down into the chair behind him, still holding her legs. She sat up, feeling a gush of hot liquid flow out of her, and he reached out a limp hand and stroked a finger down her sex. He smiled, a slow, decadent, tired-as-hell smile.
She looked down on him and cataloged the disparate parts of the whole. There was the glistening cock, still impressive in its decline, his knobby knees, attached to hairy legs with his trousers around his ankles, and his greasy hair with the ever-present bits of dandruff. The lines etched on his face made him appear older than he was, and that nose would look too big on Hagrid.
Despite the fact that he was remarkably unattractive, she decided he was perfect.
She was absolutely content.
"So," she said, pulling her feet out of his lap, and pushing her robes back down. "Good bargain? Meet you back on the desk tomorrow night?"
He chuckled and nodded lethargically.
"Good." She hopped off the desk, and Snape quickly grabbed her, as her legs tried to give out.
"I suspect I'm going to spend a lot of time staring down at the top of your head. Do you think you could shampoo a bit more often? It's not a deal breaker, but it would be nice."
He stood up, and she leaned down and grabbed his trousers, wiggling them back up over his hips.
"That could be arranged," he said tucking in his shirt. "If I'm going to spend a lot of time shoving my cock into you, then you could return the favor and remove some of that beard you've been hiding. Otherwise, you'll chafe me to death."
"Done." She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek—it seemed the polite thing to do—and grabbed her handbag . "See you tomorrow, Snape."
He waved her out and sat back down, running a still shaking hand through his sweaty hair. She smiled and headed out the door with a bounce in her step.