Hello love may I request a severus x reader?? Just looking for something fluffy and cute :)
Through His Stomach
Summary: Severus has feelings for the Herbology assistant, feelings which are revealed following some time harvesting and cooking together.
Read on AO3 or continue down below.
Word Count: ~3k
Grey clouds washed over the afternoon sky at Hogwarts, not a single ray of sunshine able to shine through. A layer of mist lined the forest and the lake horizon, hiding the terrain's transition from any who happened to be wandering around the fields while the weather was moody. Even the grass appeared different, the overcast weather darkening the layered hues of the blades to look deeper.
The uneven grounds made his steps less steady as Severus clomped down a low-decline hill around the greenhouses. At the base of the greenhouse was a garden that had recently been constructed. Beyond the pine wood fence, growing in the ground or raised beds, were many herbs and crops. Not the magical kind, but rather, ordinary vegetables: potatoes, garlic, peas, eggplant, cucumber, carrots, onions, and more.
The garden was new, something that had been proposed and approved swiftly when you, the Herbology assistant, first started here a few years ago. The quickness with which he had become fond of you unsettled him, and as a result, he had locked away such feelings for both his and your sakes. But over time, they bled through cracks, making themselves known in small ways: the manner in which he speaks to you, his tone softening compared to when he speaks to others, when he puts a steadying hand on your back when both of you climb the steps of the Quidditch pitch, and how he slowed his pace for you in the halls rather than expecting you to catch up with his long-legged stride.
Severus spotted you by the carrots, your hair tied up and out of the way, wearing a dark turtleneck with your sleeves rolled to your elbows, a long skirt, and boots. A basket hung on your elbow, ready for collection.
Upon hearing the creak of the fence’s gate, you snapped your head up and smiled when you saw the clad-in-black professor you’d grown fond of.
“Good morning, Severus,” you greeted mildly, brushing dirt off the carrots you had just yanked from the ground.
“Good morning,” he replied loud enough for you to hear across the garden. His shoes crunched against the gravel that paved the space between each section as he weaved his way toward you.
You rose from your kneeling position, smoothing out your skirt. “I don't usually see you out here. Did you need something from me, or are you here to harvest for yourself?”
Severus parted his lips as if to speak, paused, closed them, cleared his throat, and then spoke. “I’m only here for herbs,” he lied. “Lemongrass.”
“Oh, lemongrass? For a potion or a meal?”
“Potion. To relieve sore throats. This is about that time of year when the wind brings in and encourages all sorts of illnesses.”
“Sure,” you chuckled and tipped your chin toward the far end of the garden. “I think the lemongrass is over there in the corner by the lavender.” He didn’t move, glancing at the corner you had gestured to before looking back at you.
“What are you here to gather?”
“Quite a few things, actually. Garlic, tomatoes, potatoes, onion, peas, carrots, celery, rosemary, and pumpkin. I feel like making myself beef stew tonight.”
Severus lifted a doubtful brow. “You put pumpkin in your stew?”
You felt yourself blush. “Oh, n-no, the pumpkin is for dessert. I’ll be baking pumpkin bread.”
“I see,” he said, lingering only for a few moments more before walking away.
You thought that was the end of it, that he’d go and pick his lemongrass and then be on his way. You meandered over to the tomatoes, turning them over in your hand, inspecting them for any blemishes or insects that managed to eat their way through. When you heard the gravel crunching close again, you looked up and saw him approaching you once more, this time with two onions in his hands.
“Thank you, Severus,” you murmured kindly as he deposited the onions into your basket.
Again, he turned away without saying anything, but this time you watched him. Instead of going toward the lemongrass, he made his way over to the garlic.
“Severus,” you laughed. “You don’t have to; I got it.”
With his back turned, ignoring you, he walked along the bed of garlic, looking for stalks with drier, wilting leaves, and pulled two heads of garlic out from the dirt, shaking them out a little.
“Are these big enough?” Severus asked, holding the garlic up in the air.
“I… Yes.”
And thus, you gave up on trying to dissuade him from picking your vegetables. While he went and cut some celery for you and picked some rosemary, you got your hands dirty, rooting around for some potatoes, and picking pea pods off the string lines that the stems had wrapped around. You could already feel yourself salivating at how good this stew would be just from the sight of the fresh veggies in your basket.
Somehow, the basket ended up in Severus’s hands instead of yours by the time the pumpkin was the last thing on your list. It took you perhaps only a minute or two to select your pumpkin and present it to Severus triumphantly.
“You think it's too early for a jack-o-lantern?”
“Yes,” he answered simply. “The outside will rot too quickly. You’re better off letting Buckbeak feast on it.”
“Oh, good thinking.”
The gate shut behind you with a click, and the two of you trekked back up the hill.
“Thank you for helping,” you said, hesitating before continuing. “I suppose if you wanted to taste the fruits of your labor, you could swing by later and try some stew. Or, if you’d rather, I can have a house elf deliver some pumpkin bread.”
His free hand twitched at his side. Not wanting to sound too eager, he murmured. “I am…open to it. Though it will depend on what the Great Hall is serving for dinner.”
‘Ah, that’s fair,’ you thought. The elves could very well be serving something similar if not the same thing.
“Wait!” you exclaimed when you two reached the top of the hill, and you whipped back around to look out at the garden. “You didn’t get your lemongrass!”
“It’s fine,” he dismissed quickly, lightly putting a hand on your back and urging you toward the castle. “We’re already up the hill. I can get it at a later point in the week.”
“Oh, alright,” you shrugged. “If you say so.”
***
Meat juices sizzled and popped in the cast iron pan, the sides of the beef chunks searing so as to bring out the flavor when it would further tenderize in the broth. You had everything set up perfectly for preparation by the time you would start. You first wanted to get the meat cut up and cooked so that it could be added to the broth already prepared. While the meat cooked, you had mixed all the ingredients needed for the pumpkin bread and had it waiting in a bowl to be poured into a bread pan, a perfect brownish orange nearly resembling peanut butter.
A quick set of knocks disrupted your train of thought. You turned the burning flame off on the stove, wiping your hands on the front of your apron. ‘That couldn’t have been Severus,’ you thought, moving toward the door. ‘It’s too soon.’
The lock popped with a sharp clank, and you pulled the door back to reveal Professor Snape on the other side, his expression mild and stony as usual.
“Severus!” You said, surprised. “Evening. You’re…very early. I’ve only just begun with the stew preparations.”
His eyes flicked past you, registering the smell of recently cooked meat. “I expected as much,” he drawled. “The stew, it takes between an hour or so to cook, yes?”
Your fingers played with the front of your apron. “That’s correct, yes.”
“I’ve come to help,” Severus supplied, and then added quietly, “If you’ll allow it.”
The cloth dropped from your fingers. “I—Sure!! Yes, of course.” You stepped aside, allowing him entry. “Come on in.”
He stepped inside, moving toward the kitchenette and taking in the setup. All the vegetables had been put in their own bowls on a separate dining table, along with knives and a cutting board.
“I’m glad you came. Sorry, I don’t have very much counter space.” You shut the door and joined him across the space.
“You’ve already seared the meat,” he remarked and murmured. “Efficient as always.”
Your ears heated. “Er—yes.” You grabbed a spatula and began to pour and scrape the bread batter into the pan. He watched on quietly, hands clasped lightly behind his back, a myriad of increasingly domestic images flooding the forefront of his mind that made his ears burn. You in an apron making food for him is something he would never be able to excise out of his mind.
With the pumpkin bread in the oven now, Severus looked away just as you turned and uttered. “What is it you would like me to do?”
“If you could start on the potatoes and cut them into knut-sized chunks, that would be terrific, and then cut the celery and peel the garlic cloves. I think I can manage everything else.”
Both of you fell into a mechanical rhythm of slicing and dicing, the stew coming together slowly but surely. It was odd telling him what to do. Cooking was so similar to brewing, and here he was, the notoriously prideful Potion Master at your command, refusing to put anything he prepared in the pot of broth unless you had explicitly told him to. The flavors built and compounded as each ingredient was added to the pot, the air a decadent mixture of savoriness and warmth. You had timed it perfectly for the bread and stew to finish at around the same time.
Until then, the two of you filled the time needed for the stew to cook with tea, reading, and complaining about students. He had a nasty accident in his classroom the previous day, one that was entirely unavoidable, that left two students who’d been partners for that day with bad acid-based burns on their arms and hands; not only that, but the station’s surface was permanently marred as the acid had chewed into the wood.
Something similarly frustrating happened in Herbology as well. Somehow, a student managed to escape both your and Professor Sprout’s eyes and fed a piece of dark chocolate to one of the carnivorous plants. It died later that afternoon in the middle of another class. While you were able to deduce that it was a student’s doing, neither of you could determine who it was exactly.
Much to your relief, the stew had turned out fantastic. The beef was so tender you almost didn’t even need to chew it. It warmed your stomach, making you feel as though you were swaddled in the world’s softest, warmest blanket. While Severus had labelled the stew as “sufficient,” the way his eyes had fluttered after the first bite and the hesitant breath he took before giving his opinion told you otherwise. Plus, he had finished faster than you had.
By the time you had finished and taken both your bowls to the sink to wash, the pumpkin bread had cooled enough to be served. “Severus,” you called, grabbing a knife and cutting a slice for yourself, the inside perfectly moist and spongy. “The pumpkin bread’s ready. Do you want a slice?”
No answer.
You look over your shoulder and—
Oh.
Your heart melted in your chest at the sight you were met with.
Severus had fallen asleep.
He sat upright in his chair, the book he was reading only kept open by the hand laid against it, and his head supported by the other hand of the bent arm that rested against the chair. His breaths came slow and steady, no doubt knocked out by the hearty meal that similarly filled your stomach. He looked so…soft like this. The usual harsh dibbit between his brows when he frowned at something at meals was nowhere to be found, only a sense of peace written on his face.
You stood there staring at him for a few minutes, searing the image into your head while your heart twisted itself in knots. You wished to do this more often with him. It didn’t have to be cooking, although you must admit tonight was lovely. You just…wanted to be around him. To have him in your orbit. To bring him this peace that he seems to obtain so rarely on his own. His presence never failed to bring you a sense of calmness, his brilliance and unyielding demeanor always assuring you even during the most stressful times.
Your feet slowly carried you over to him, as if in a trance, and stopped at his side. Gently, you placed a hand on his head, smoothing his hair slightly, noting how much softer it was than it looked. When he didn’t stir or show any signs of waking, you pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of his head before promptly removing yourself from his proximity.
‘Anything more than that, especially while he slept, wouldn’t be proper,’ you told yourself, returning to the kitchenette to put away the dishes that had been cleaned and continue with the pumpkin bread.
But you had missed it.
Had you not left his side so suddenly, you’d have seen it—the way his eyes fluttered open heavily a second after you pulled away. You’d have seen the way he fuzzily recognized what you had just done, and what it meant. He didn’t move, speak, or give any indication that he was now awake with your body turned away. He only watched you clean up, warmth radiating from where you had kissed him all the way down to the rest of his body, that ice-cold sadness that someone like you could never show even an inkling of interest in him melting away.
Your fingers moved deftly with parchment paper meant for food, cutting half the loaf and wrapping it for Severus so that he could take some with him to eat over the weekend. You tugged the twine into a bow, securing the wrapping in place and ready to be taken. When your hand reached for the kitchen scissors to cut the excess length of the twine, you ended up knocking the pair off the counter entirely, clattering loudly on the ground.
“Apologies for falling asleep,” you heard Severus drawl as you picked the scissors up. Your shoulders tensed at the fact that he was awake now.
“It’s okay,” you mumbled nervously. “Nothing to worry about.” In your state of agitation, you didn’t hear his approach—didn’t sense his presence growing closer. You quickly snipped the extra length of the twine, removing the loose pieces, and picked up his half loaf.
“I cut half the loaf for you. Figured you could have multiple slices for yourse—”
Any comprehensible thought in your mind was stolen from you as you turned and felt something warm press against your head. Severus was right in front of you now, the distance practically closed, and the half-loaf in your hand wedged between your chest and his. One of his hands gently cradled your jaw while the other rested delicately on your hip. His dark hair more or less blocked your vision, but it didn’t take a genius to know what he was doing.
His surprisingly warm lips had placed a kiss on your hairline, one that lingered longer than yours. He was slow to pull away. While he wanted the moment to last longer, he was also afraid that when he pulled back, your expression would be one of disgust on the off-chance that he had misread the situation entirely.
When he did pull back, his eyes darted over your expression uncertainly. You hadn’t recoiled or moved away from him in any way, but you did look taken aback, almost startled, your lips parting in a slight ‘oh,’ and your face colored with heat.
The hand on your face slowly retracted, gingerly plucking the loaf from between you, setting it on the counter, his eyes never leaving you as you did so. As soon as the final barrier had been removed, you practically fell into him.
Your arms wrapped around him, lips pressing eagerly to his. An exhale of relief left his nose as he held you firmly, guiding you back a step until your back met the edge of the counter. His kisses stole your breath away, lips chasing after yours like he was starved, and leaving a burning path along your skin as he stamped them along your jaw and down your neck.
“H-how long?” you shuddered as his mouth moved back up your neck with little nips.
“A while now,” Severus murmured between kisses, his thumb rubbing circles along the side of your face. “But I did not want to risk putting you in an uncomfortable position.”
“So did I,” you murmured happily, almost in a slur as he drew you tight to him and pressed a long, passionate kiss to your mouth.
When you pulled yourself away again, the both of you were breathing a little harder, resting your foreheads against one another. He moved your head so that it tucked into the crux of his neck and angled his mouth down to your ear.
“You’ll have to unwrap that half-loaf,” he rasped. “I intend to stay for a little while longer.”
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Title Inspired by the quote ("The best way to get to a man's heart is through his stomach.") I hope you enjoyed this @myshaylaaa.
