Title: Storyteller
Author: @crochetawayhpff
Pairing(s): Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Rating: E
Word Count: 2668
Content/Warnings: age difference, vaginal sex
Summary: Hermione asks Severus to tell her a story.
Author’s Note: Thanks to my beta for their work on this. Thanks to the mods for running this fest. If you liked this, a review goes a long way. My prompt was: "Will you read me a story?"
hi again! This is another drabble/missing moment set during dh after the wedding. Again this is only my second time writing any fic so it's very amateur.
This was requested by @nuttybeardetective , and was inspired by this post of mine. Ron is vaguely prudish in this but seeing as this is only my second time writing, I don't think I'm ready to write full-on smut yet. hope you enjoy <3
WARNING: none except for language, because it's Ron ;)
WORDS: 1515
The dim cold ambience of Grimmauld Place did nothing to soothe the uneasiness of the wedding attack and Ron was utterly fed up. One week after their untimely arrival at the grim house enticed them to try and settle into their temporary 'home'. At least physically anyway, Harry was now occupying Sirius' room in reserved isolation and after another night of sleeping adjacent in the drawing-room, he and Hermione had wordlessly agreed upon sleeping in their respective rooms that they'd occupied during the summer before 5th year, with some unannounced hesitation on his part.
The minuscule amount of clothes he carried was unpacked, his worn toothbrush now stood in the cup designated on the 2nd story bathroom, opposite his bedroom. The kitchen table was now draped in Hermione's lists and notes of all sorts, a map of the Ministry adorning the centre. Yet Ron felt as if mentally he was still at the Burrow, packing the extra healing supplies from the bathroom cupboard or stood in the stuffy kitchen, duplicating his mother's kitchenware to stuff into his rucksack.
The immediate thought of the burrow made his stomach drop and his head spin. The forced confinement made him feel ill. It felt as if he was in deep quarantine and had no knowledge of the world outside. This scared him so intensely that his paranoia was at an all-time high after a week without family communication. Surely the whole Horcrux-hunting fiasco would last longer than a week? A couple months maybe? Could he go that long without his serene home, the sunny hillside near the refreshing pond, and his family, who were at risk of being imprisoned or killed because of their non-prejudiced beliefs?
His stomach dropped again and his shoulders sagged under the scorching heat of the water flowing across his frame. He discovered that hot water was helpful for him to relax, only temporarily of course but it was much better than the frigid water in the small shower the burrow housed or the short-lived heating charm that made him feel as if he was showering in lukewarm tea rather than a proper hot shower.
His only downside was that his creamy skin was almost brick red, yet somehow his freckles showed through like a common childhood disease that Hermione had mentioned getting in her early years. He could not remember the name. His hair laid flat on his head, a darker red when wet but now longer than a quiff, he ran his gangly fingers through it, sweeping it back but failing to contain a few stray pieces, which dangled near the curve of his cheek and tickled his ears.
Goosebumps spread across flesh the instant his heels touched the cool tile. The sudden temperature change brought about a shock and he scrambled for his towel to aid his chill. After hastily wrapping it around his waist, he clumsily aimed for his vest to wear until he got to the room so at least he wouldn't freeze to death. Vest in hand, the metal toothbrush cup clanged off the side of the counter, making a ruckus in its wake.
Vest now over his head and arms, bunched just under his chest. the cup was replaced to its original spot and a good few swears had escaped his breath. He bent across the counter to clear the mirror of the steam that emanated from the shower when he felt the slightest brush against his bareback.
"Shit!"
"Sorry!'
His hand frantically searched for his wand to provide defence but unless towels came with pockets then he was out of luck. Hermione's alarmed voice stabbed through the bathroom and the echo lingered for a bit, just enough until he processed that she was in front of him. Her eyebrows were raised and her mahogany eyes were wide after she jumped away from him suddenly.
"Um..Hi.” she started with a great inhale.
Ron's heart rate hadn't returned to normal and his mouth was agape at the sight of her so suddenly appearing in the bathroom. Where he was. Alone. Until she came in of course. So now it was just him and her. Alone. He suddenly became very aware that he had just come out of the shower and was revealing a particular amount of torso, which was probably solid red now with a litter of freckles that he didn't fancy too much himself.
"Uh hey?" he started, completely at a loss of how to conduct the situation, while he sheepishly smoothed down the vest along his stomach. She couldn't have come in here to discuss Horcruxes right? Actually, he wouldn't put it past her to do just that, to be honest.
"I uh.. well I came to shower and I realised that you were still in here, still are in here so.. but yeah your vest was rolled up a bit sorry, just wanted to.. uh fix it, yeah, sorry." she stumbled over her words a lot, something he'd never heard from Hermione but she seemed to speak extremely fast yet agonisingly slow and deliberate at the same time.
She was breathing in deeply again and his eyes fell to the stray tight curls that graced the nape of her neck which her haphazard-looking ponytail exposed. The bathroom was quite dim and the yellow glow from the dingy lights fell just barely on her dark skin. Skin. His eyes travelled a little further to see she was wearing a vest herself, no a camisole, he didn't know what it was but his gaze was hooked on the space between her shoulder and collarbone. He had the urge to touch it with his lips.
He quickly averted his eyes as to not embarrass himself but they glanced over her bare legs in moderately short cotton shorts and he sucked his breath in so hard he was now bent at a slight curve, stomach clenched and breath hitched. He was quickly overwhelmed at the intimacy the situation opposed. Hell, he couldn't believe he was describing an interaction with Hermione as intimate. His ears were on fire surely, he'd need an Aquamenti to put them out if he survived.
"Oh", his voice heightened toward the end and he internally cringed so hard he thought he was going to combust.
"Yeah", she whispered, her eyes were on his arms, his brain scars were fully displayed and swirled across his recently filled out arms.
"I thought you were using the bathroom near your room?" he spoke softly and slowly, drinking in the sight of her lips, which she was toying with impatiently, now flushed.
There was an urge to cover his arms but he resisted and tried to focus on a chipped tile near the door. He failed as soon as she spoke once more, her voice clearer this time and with, almost, determination?
"I think I like this one more." she spoke, referring to the bathroom seemingly but her eyes were nowhere but him.
She intentionally made eye contact and his heart dropped to his lower stomach, his chest unnaturally warm. Wasn't this room cold as shit before? He was smart enough to know that bathroom was the last bloody thing she was talking about but words failed and he was more than happy to let her steer the conversation.
"Can I ask why?', he managed, his mouth was dry and he was sure he's never wanted anything more than for her to touch him, anywhere, she could slap him if she wanted and he would relish her skin on his.
Their breaths were erratic now, you'd swear they'd run a marathon twice over. Her chest was rising and falling agonisingly slow. He was still bent a bit so he was leaning towards her and she seemed to have gotten closer since she jumped back earlier. When did that happen?
"It's a bit more spacious I think, prettier interior as well", she whispered, swallowing halfway in between and added in the last bit staring so far into his eyes that he swore she was probably seeing through his head.
Pretty. Did she just say pretty? He was pretty sure she said pretty. No one had called him that before and if she had just called him fucking pretty he was going to die on the spot. Her words kept repeating in his head, soft and intentional. His entire body was frozen and he knew that the ground wasn't cold enough to make his legs tremble the way they were now. She gazed up at him and he swore he saw a glint of satisfaction after his reaction.
"Right, well, I'll let you have it then..Enjoy.", he applauded himself in restaining his voice from wavering at the end.
She gave a small thanks and he started to walk towards the door, her to the shower. Her bare shoulder touched his elbow at the exact moment her eucalyptus shampoo wafted towards his nose and he swore he almost whimpered. Their eye contact was only broken by the door closing and Ron almost collapsing on the other side.
