Seven Preposterous Things

Author\'s Note: Special thanks to Shiv and Scattered Logic



disclaimer-as always the primary characters are not mine

nor is the beginning point of this little farago

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Very Preposterous December 22nd



“He’d bellyache about it if they hanged him with a new rope,”

-The Writer’s Grandfather







Hermione Granger, the love of his life, fire of his heart, the sin of his loins, the witch whose very existence was the machinery that propelled him forward, had been engendered not only by two Muggle dentists but by two Muggle dentists who listened to ABBA.

Severus Snape learned this unsettling bit of information in the car while he was attempting to locate a bearable radio station and found himself compelled to stop the dial on precisely the sort of thing that made him long to puncture his own ear drums. The only option that might have been worse was Elton John, but he wasn’t sure; it was probably a toss up.

Perhaps she had even been conceived to some snippet of the noxious fluff. Unbidden, a nauseated look crossed his face.

He had it on good authority he himself had been conceived up against the wall in the corridor outside the women’s loo at the local pub. According to Eileen, Lloyd Price was singing “Stagger Lee” on the jukebox. He could say this for his mother, while there was no disputing her judgment was shit where the male of the species were concerned, he’d never questioned her musical taste.

On consideration, he preferred a clout upside the head from his Muggle father every now and again to growing up listening to nothing but the likes of Stubby Boardman; it was like Pat Boone for the wizarding set. Only they didn’t have any Elvis to speak. Or a Link Wray, much less an Ozzy.



“So, Stephen, were you a barman in the wizarding world as well?” Granger’s …mother - yes, mother, that tone of voice could only come from a mother - asked, narrowing her eyes at him from the back seat.



He looked back in the rearview mirror. “No,” he answered.



“Stephen was a potion maker, more of a researcher, really. Developing new potions and improving those already in existence,” Granger interjected. She was telling the truth, albeit one full of holes, but not even the most scrupulous could call it a lie, he’d grant her that much.



“Why don’t you find something more suited, if tending bar is beneath your abilities?” the mother said lightly.



“Like your daughter, I entered Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry directly from primary school. As you know, the possibilities are somewhat limited in the Muggle world for a man with little formal education,”



“Why did you do it, then? Why leave behind a career and lifetime of work? ”



Severus nearly pulled something in his neck, jerking round to look her in the eye, inadvertently hitting the brakes. “Would you care to know the truth?”



“Yes,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “I did ask.”



“The war went rather badly for our side. You are aware of the struggle between the Purebloods and Muggleborn wizards, are you not?”



Dr. Granger snorted.



“It is hardly a laughing matter, I assure you. The war went against those who felt a more inclusive society was to the benefit of all. Neither your daughter nor myself would have been safe as things stood, let alone free to pursue our chosen professions,” Severus said maneuvering the car onto the shoulder and shutting off the engine.



“Are you saying Hermione was in danger? Real danger?” the father said.



Hermione who had meanwhile gone wide-eyed and pale as the proverbial sheet turned round in her seat to face her parents.



“I’m sorry, Dad. It all sort of sneaked up on me,” Granger said, spreading her arms in a way meant to indicate either helplessness or perhaps it was a plea for forgiveness.



“What sneaked up on you?” her mother asked.



“Everything. The magical world was rather more dangerous than I led you to believe,”



Severus said nothing, simply watched as the parental attention shifted away from him as though he’d never been the cradle-robbing miscreant the mother’s gaze had wordlessly named him.



The father had ignored him from the beginning. It was a tactic he could both understand and tolerate. It was as good as it got, really, being ignored.



“I was nearly killed twice my first year at Hogwarts,” Granger said. “It only got worse as time went on.”



“Why weren’t we notified?” the mother said.



He’d never even considered it at the time, but now that she’d brought it up it seemed a fairly reasonable question.



“It all seemed to be perfectly under control,” Granger said. “And I didn’t want you to worry.”



“Where were the adults in all this?” the parents asked, more or less simultaneously.



“Hiding behind the children, for the most part,” Severus found himself saying before he could stop himself.



He pinched his lips shut, looking helplessly at Granger, hoping she’d take pity on him and say something, bloody anything.



“Stephen was …very involved in the war effort but he differed with the way our leaders conducted …” Granger said slowly, as if each word was the bleeding stump of a rotten tooth being extracted. He knew, for once, precisely what she was holding back. If she couldn’t bring herself to say it he would.



“If you won’t say it I will. It was Dumbledore. I felt Dumbledore was passive when he should have been active. He left the school and the students far too unprotected. He was far too lax with his student’s safety. I was also uncomfortable with the heavy burdens he placed on the shoulders of mere children. I felt, and still feel, it was cruel and unnecessary in addition to being an unwise gamble” Severus was surprised how liberating it was to finally criticize the old goat. Aloud. To an objective third party.



“Sounds as though you were right,” the father said grimly.



“There’s more,” Granger said reaching over the seat to pull her father’s sleeve straight. “The day we left England… I feel I should tell you this in the new spirit of openness…”



“Go right ahead, Mr. Gorbachev,” the mother said.



“S…Stephen saved my life. I would have been killed were it not for him,”



“So, the two of you are essentially refugees,” the mother said, astutely.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Draco was feeding Phil, and Millie knew without turning around he was taking a bite of stewed cherries for every one he fed the baby as he did it, the shit.



“You call that feeding the baby?” Millie said, sinking her fist in the dough.



“As a matter of fact I do,” he answered, his pronunciation indistinct on account of his full mouth.



Millie clicked her tongue in disgust and concentrated on the task before her. The saffron stained her fingers yellow as she as crushed it into the dough before carefully taking the hair she had put aside, slick black and thin and just as carefully split it along its length. She squinted as the repeated the procedure twice more so that four long quartered lengths of a single hair lay before her.



She gave a quick blow with her knife followed by another and another until twenty blows had struck the single hair reducing it to specks as numerous as snowflakes on the counter. She sprinkled them carefully onto the mashed potatoes followed by several good cracks of pepper to disguise the bits of Snape.



“What are you making for the Christmas Muggles?” Draco asked after he’d swallowed.



“Supper,” Millie said absently as she put her will into the heart-shaped ring of cardamom she was sprinkling over the dough.



“Uncle Severus is so fucked,” Draco said conversationally.



“You think?” Millie said, now pounding in a hand full of almonds for each of them, herself included.



“Social situations are hardly his strong point,” Draco said. Millie could hear the faint ringing sound of wet metal as he licked the spoon. “Besides they are Muggles, aren’t they? And not the good kind.”



Millie wondered what constituted “good Muggles” in Draco’s upside down book right before she thought of a thousand pointless arguments she could make to counter Draco’s reasoning, if you could call it that. It didn’t matter. No matter how Draco misunderstood the problem that wouldn’t make it go away.



She answered with a “Mmmmph,” as she stretched half the dough over the backs of her knuckles.



“What are you doing, Mil?” Draco asked. She could practically hear him squinting at her.



“Unfucking Severus,” she answered, giving him more than she intended to as she twisted the long strands of dough together and laid them carefully round the edge. She could hear Phil grab the spoon as Draco rose from the table, carrying him over to get a good look at what his mum was doing. He was going to give him bad habits if he kept that up.



She took no mind of either of them, laying the apples and cherries in their concentric rings, just as she would have had her husband not been hanging over her shoulder like a great blonde well dressed dementor.



“Do you reckon you’re a natural irritant or do you have to work at it?” she said closing her eyes so she could concentrate.



“He’ll know. One bite and he’ll be able to tell,” Draco said, shifting Phil on his hip.



“Of course he will, and he’ll be a fool if he objects,” Millie said sifting her hands three times through the golden sugar.



“What of Granger?” Draco asked.



“What of her?”



“She’s bound to realize.”



“You think she doesn’t want her parents to like Severus?”



“The Muggles won’t know?”



Millie looked at him, the trouble with Draco was he assumed every Muggle knew what he knew; he still didn’t realize how big the gap between Magical and Muggle was. It was a wonder he didn’t fall into the abyss of his own lack of awareness sometimes. You’d think he’d pick up more understanding of Muggles at work but since they spent most of their time at his work playing pretend, she didn’t suppose it helped clue Draco in much.



“I need to get the goose out of the oven before it goes dry,” she said waving him out of the way.



Millie pulled her hot pads out of her apron pocket and extracted the goose, inhaling the complicated smells, the rye crust over top of the bird, the sausages and apples inside. The spell was strong enough that she felt a wave of affection sweep over her and settle on Draco and Phil, and she hadn’t even taken a bite yet.

Shaking her head a bit she set the bird down, reattaching a doughy leaf, before turning up the fire and carefully setting her pastry in the oven.



She didn’t even do anything when Draco reached out and untied her apron.



“You sexy thing, you’re top totty, you know that?” he said.



Millie smiled against her will even as she ignored him.



“Did you make the biscuits for Santa Claus yet?”



“Do you think you’re dealing with some sort of amateur?” Millie asked.



“Are you sure he can find us in America?”



“Don’t be thick, Malfoy, we’ve a baby. A magical baby. Santa keeps track of every magical child born. We couldn’t hide from him if we wanted,” Millie said, fighting the urge to ruff up his hair. Silly bugger. “You’ll get your fairy sweets.”



“Promise?” he said retying her apron, brushing his crotch up against her bum in a way that wasn’t even slightly subtle.



~~~~~~~~~





In the midst of the single most delicious meal Helen Granger D.D.S. had ever eaten it occurred to her that she understood exactly what her daughter saw in Stephen Liston.



He was witty and just cheeky enough to be entertaining and besides all that he was clearly besotted with Hermione.



He was a quirky sort of a dreamboat but a dreamboat nonetheless. She couldn’t imagine finding a better candidate for Hermione’s husband had she held a general election. He reminded her more than a bit of John Lennon without the glasses. Provided she squinted.





~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dennis Granger D.D.S. felt at peace with the world in general and his new son-in-law in particular. Stephen was sitting very close to the potatoes and felt very free about passing them, which did not lessen him in Dennis’ eyes.



As far as he could see Stephen was doing well by Hermione, putting her through school. He was clearly devoted. Had it been another girl he’d have suspected she was taking advantage of a smitten man’s largesse.

True, he was a mite older than would be ideal but, to be honest, Dennis had never imagined his daughter marrying someone her own age. Considering what he knew of the life span of wizards he was grateful to be older than his new son-in-law. It had been a particular fear of his for years, that Hermione would set her cap on some old codger. It seemed the sort of thing she would do. After all, she’d practically been born middle aged herself.

That was why the Weasley business had thrown him.

Dennis had never met anyone as unlike his daughter as Ronald Weasley.

Not that a bit of light-hearted carefree attitude was a bad thing. But he spent enough time with the Weasley boy to realize Hermione put forth more care and planning making a cup of tea than Ron spent on his entire school career.

Opposites might attract but Dennis was old enough to know attraction in itself was hardly a basis for an extended weekend much less a marriage.

This Stephen, on the other hand, he seemed a better match for Hermione as far as temperament and inclination went. Hermione with Stephen seemed, well, happy. She seemed like the bright conscientious girl he’d known for twenty odd years instead of the relentless harpy she was transformed into when her school friends were about.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione had never been more grateful to Millie in her life. This was real friendship.

A fiasco of the first order had been brewing in the car and if it took a calming draft and a spell for affection worked into dinner to set things right she didn’t mind.



Not that Severus hadn’t tried. Sadly he was on his best behaviour both at the airport and in the car, and after three hours it was clearly all he could do to hold himself in. Never mind that all his good behaviour didn’t amount to much. It was an unfortunate reality that there were trolls who were better at ingratiating themselves than Severus. He just didn’t seem to have it in him. He was the only person she’d ever known who was worse at making meaningless chit chat than she was. If he was quiet it tended to be the creepy sort of silence that gave people who didn’t know him well the unsettling feeling he was up to something. Those who were better acquainted didn’t suspect, they knew.

If he spoke it was no better: he invariably talked about something that interested him which meant there was a good chance he was complaining. It was a sad state of affairs when the best you could hope for was a ruthless deconstruction.

None of this meant Hermione didn’t adore him, rather it simply indicated that he was an acquired taste, like a particularly smelly cheese; the sort that left you in a baffled horror when you were a child wondering how adults could stomach such a thing but later, when you were grown, you looked forward to the ugly lump waiting in your refrigerator that made everything else seem bland in comparison.



Hermione took another bite of the potatoes. Without thinking she reached out and pinched Severus’ earlobe between her thumb and forefinger.



Even baby Phil seemed to stare at her. It was the first time she could recall blushing in years.



~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus Snape had had less uncomfortable rounds of Crucio. While he felt he could have acquitted himself admirably were the assembled party allied against him he hadn’t so much as an inkling as to how to get on with a table full of people grinning at him like addled-pated ninnies.



Not that Millie’s little trick was unappreciated. He wordlessly said a prayer of thanks to the twisted heart of Black Alice that beat in her granddaughter’s well padded chest.



To make matters worse every female at the table had erect nipples. He wondered if he was the only one who noticed. He also noted the distinct absence of any sort of draft.

It was in both exhilaration and sheer terror that he realized he was a bit more than slightly attracted to his mother-in-law. Maybe the nipple business was a positive rather than a negative.



He wasn’t stupid enough to seriously consider infidelity, much less infidelity with his wife’s mother, but if it weren’t for her daughter he’d do Helen Granger in a heartbeat. He found himself smiling back at rest of the table.



When Hermione reached out and grabbed his ear lobe in exactly the gesture she used to guide his face between her thighs he knew he was in a dangerous situation.



Trying to do the most expedient thing he turned his head, catching her hand in his and pressing his lips to her palm.



“On that note, Mrs. Liston, I must excuse myself from the table. Have you seen my fags? I was under the impression I had another packet,” he asked still holding her hand in his.



Darling Hermione wrinkled her nose.



There was a clatter of silverware on the other side of the table. “Mind if I join you?”



“Mummy, I thought you quit!” Hermione all but wailed.



Dennis sighed a long suffering sigh. “You know your mother, Hermione, how many times has she quit smoking?”



“Yes,” Helen said archly. “Your mother is a hopeless drug addict.”



Severus coughed. His mother-in-law was a bitch of the first water, he could appreciate that. Still it was his darling who, knowing full well what the consequences were, threw Dolores Umbrage to the centaurs. He sincerely doubted Helen was that hard hearted; still she was a dentist so he could be mistaken.



“I regret,” he said as he rose, lying through his teeth at least as far as sentiment was concerned. “I will be absent from dinner tomorrow. My presence is required at my place of employment. We’ve a rather large show.”



“Oh,” said Dennis leaning forward in interest. “We haven’t been to a concert since…”



“Forever,” Helen interjected “Who is it?”



“Motorhead,” Hermione supplied. “Not exactly you and Daddy’s sort of thing,”



“Nonsense, it sounds like fun,” the mother said, narrowing her eyes. He preferred thinking of her as ‘The Mother’ it was most likely safer.



“If Stephen can take it so can we,” Dennis said.



“Stephen,” Hermione said, with a barely suppressed laugh in her voice, “is a fan.”



Dr. and Dr. Granger looked as though they thought she might be having them on.

~~~~~~~~~~~



Severus was in a strange circle of Hell, being liked that way.

Millie calculated well. The effects ought to last at least the duration of the holiday visit.

Though he wasn’t sure if Millie’s cure for his personal inadequacy was any better than the problem itself.



He needed more than a few glasses of wine to make it to bed time. The pleasant hum in the back of his brain was growing distractingly like static. Millie’s spell hadn’t stopped Hermione forcing him to observe every nicety ever dreamed up by the middle class. No matter how much he’d prefer to save someone the trouble of washing up by drinking sensibly from the bottle, she forced a glass into his hand instead. Harpy.



Now his beloved tormentor was approaching him with that look on her face, that look that told him he was moments away from being taken like the virgin bride in a pornographic novel. She’d had some wine herself, although he hadn’t bothered to note how much.



“Don’t look at me like that,” he said sternly, or as sternly as he could manage on a gut full of wine. Her hands were at his waist, lifting the hem of his shirt but he tried to warn her. “Your mother and father are in the next room.”



“I know. I helped my father make the bed,” she said lifting his shirt to his under arms.



This seemed the very epitome of a bad idea to Severus but he lifted his arms over his head for her to finish relieving him of his shirt all the same.



Granger kissed the corner of his jaw and a pleasant shiver traveled down his body and landed in his cock, which hardened in response.



“What if they hear?” he whispered without intending to. “They’ll think we’re having sex.”



Hermione whispered “We will be.” Her lips caressed his ear lobe. What was that girl’s strange obsession with his ears, for fuck’s sake?



God, but it felt good, though.

He shuddered, his cock twitching with every flick of her tongue.

He whimpered, not even bothering to attempt to stop his reaction.



Her parents were on the other side of the wall and Prissy Mind-Your-Manners-Severus Granger was pinching his nipple between her slender thumb and forefinger. The static had become a roar in his head. He opened his mouth to find Granger kissing her way from his jaw to his lips.



Her mouth was very wet, very open and as he answered her kiss he found himself lost in the stupid pleasure of his body, lost to anything that was not of his body and hers together, touching. He rode the roar in his skull like a wave.



“Tell me what to do.” He whispered his bald desire between her grasping lips, unsure if she could hear him over the sound in his head.



“Lick my cunt,” she said. Miraculously, he heard her and it sounded like the best idea anyone had put forth all wretched day.



Severus snaked his arms up her back as he walked her backwards to the bed. There was no hesitation on his part as he removed her shirt. Who gave a fuck about the bloody buttons shooting about the room like so many comets? Not he. And by the look of things not his love either.



For once he felt in control, in charge, master of the situation as he laid her back on the bed. He didn’t bother to remove her brassiere but simply pulled the cloth out of the way until her breasts stood bare, nipples exposed to the light. He took one into his mouth, then the other, relishing the taste of salt and sweat and perfume. He pushed them closer with his hands that he might move from one to the other as quickly as possible.



Granger lifted her hips to grind against him. He raised his head to look at her and felt at once doubly drunk, intoxicated by the heady knowledge of her desire, by her wild eyes and open mouth.



His hands, quite of their own accord, released their grasp to rub his palms against her hard nipples.



She arched her back.



He lowered his head and ran his tongue down the valley between her breasts. The taste was divine.



He used all his powers of concentration, kissing his way along her torso while his hands made short work of her trouser buttons. His fingers lingered against her skin as he slowly pulled down her trousers; hip, thigh, leg. She trembled as he returned to her knickers, tracing the crest of her hip bone with his thumb before leaning in and taking the elastic edge in his teeth and pulling.



“Holy Shit, Severus!” she gasped.



He felt like Elvis with Granger’s knickers in his mouth, his face skimming the length of her thighs as he drew off the last barrier between his tongue and her cunt.



His cock was so hard he pulled off his own jeans and threw them on the floor rather than allow his todger to strangle to death.



Still his head roared.



He laid a chaste kiss to the inside of Hermione Granger’s thigh and she mewed like a kitten.



It was followed by another, farther up, closer to heaven. Her hips wiggled. He brushed his lips along the satiny skin tenderly, her body so divine the act was complete in itself. When he reached the juncture of inner thigh and paradise, his tongue darted out to taste the crease between the two. The closer he got to his quarry to more delectable she became. He was so excited by the prospect he found he had begun to salivate. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.



A moment later he self indulgently buried his nose in the harsh wiry curls.

Granger grunted in frustration.



“Severussssss,” she growled.



In reply, he drew his tongue down the cleft of her, like the most delicious peach already split wide with ripeness, salivating for him as he salivated for her. His stroked her perineum with two fingers as his tongue slid back up to her clitoris.



Her hips bucked and he found that, though he was licking her, his own hips answered in kind, thrusting against the worn and aged cotton sheets. It felt good.



He pursed his lips round the base of her clitoris, sucking and sliding til he reached the tip. On instinct alone he nipped the knot of savory flesh gently with his teeth, careful not to bite down.



The groan Granger made seemed to come from the core of her. His cock pounded against the mattress to the beat her arse drummed.



Severus licked a dozen licks, one wet lick after another. One arm reached up to stroke her side, the other, wiser, hand slid to insinuate itself into the slickness of Granger. One finger curved inside her as he circled her clitoris with his lips. It was his kiss to her, his attempt to force all the emotion he did not trust himself to speak aloud into her genitals, and her body spoke back in shudders.



He removed his finger and felt the discontent as her arse wiggled toward him, seeking out penetration. He crossed that first finger with the one beside it and inserted two in the viscous passage, twisting as he went. Granger made a low throaty grunt and thrust down hard until his fingertips touched the edge of her cervix.



Severus felt as though his chest was going to explode with pride and pleasure and the raw delight of it all.



Still his tongue rolled up and down and over and around the seat of her pleasure.

Still his cock thrust against the bedclothes.



In the frenzy an odd thing happened. His thumb inadvertently brushed her arsehole and it was as though he had run a current through her body. She made a high pitched sort of whimper and Severus, being smart enough to take a hint when it was given him, slipped his thumb, dripping wet from her viscous cunt, into her arse.



All of her seemed to be pulsing; her clitoris, her cunt, her arse. Even her chest was vibrating and the tremors resonated through him. He now suckled her clitoris as he had suckled her breasts. He thrust his fingers into the orifices he could reach and his cock strained against the bed until it became a kind of storm of sensation. His own body shook and what he felt was more than he knew his body to be capable of feeling. It was as though he had been turned inside out and filled up and overwhelmed. And still he shook.



And Granger shook

And he called out in joy and terror and he no longer knew his name nor did he note the sticky mess he had made.



All that would return in the morning, accompanied by a painful headache and the need to peel the crusted sheets off his dick.