The Gilded Cage

Killer K, Hermione Snape, Voracious, HarryGinny4eva, Danie, randc, anncee, ripley, Ephemeral, Literary Beauty, neelix, T Stevenson, Carlieisastreetmonster, EleanorRigby, kimjo2, iamtherealmaverick, Barbossas_Boots, - I’m so glad the drunken frottage satisfied. Thank you so much to all of you who showed your appreciation for the SS/HG smutfest. I was called a goddess, had prezzies laid at my feet, and heard all your squees. Woo-hoo!
War Lioness- Sure, I’d be happy to clarify, penetration is verboten, but smutty frottage isn’t penetration. I think they’ll get away with as much as the warding will allow.
meankitty69- Isn’t technology wonderful? Welcome back.
Hermione Malfoy Fan- Good question, it’s about to get answered below.
Gertie- Oooh, I love shiny things, you so totally know my kryptonite. I think in 3 or maybe 4 more chapters Severus answers that question… I can’t remember off the top of my head, but it is mentioned.


Chapter 40 - O! Plus! Perge! Aio! Hui! Hem!


He felt her leave. His brain was smothered with a wet flannel, and yet he had the presence of mind to feel her stir and knew it would be only moments before he’d lose the furnace of her body heat pressed against him. A soft clink in the darkness foretold she had done as she’d promised and left him a bottle of hangover relief. Hermione wrestled with her jacket and things fumbling in the thin pink light of morning, before the wards on the door rippled and she was gone without a parting word or look. Had she turned back she would have seen Severus attempting to sit up, stringy morning hair pasted to his face, and the saddest look of abandonment upon his visage before he turned back into his pillow, needing a moment. A long moment.


He wasn’t alone for long.


Her arrival at the Homestead drew a sigh from Severus’ lips. He could immediately sense she wasn’t angry with him, or regretting the night before. He couldn’t bear it when Hermione turned her anger in on herself; it felt like a knife wound to his chest.


Severus smirked. If he had to guess the sensations he was experiencing, she was… singing? But definitely happy. The Gods were merciful indeed. It had been a very long time since he’d made a witch happy like this. Certainly he deserved a bit of celebration. But not more Firewhiskey. No, Nay, Never.


At least, not until the next time he wanted to get shitfaced.


He couldn't believe he had cracked open the bottle, all because she had warned him not to wait up for her while she spent the evening at a stupid party she had admitted she didn't want to attend. It seemed so juvenile in retrospect. The witch was bound to him in marriage and a Fidelity charm, and yet the mere suggestion that she'd be out dining and laughing with others made him want to pickle himself. He was a doomed man. By the light of day his irrational reasoning was petty, and he was paying dearly for it.


It felt like the sun in all its golden glory had decided to send bright cheerful rays straight to him to ensure he got a proper rise and shine. A pale hand struggled weakly from beneath his sheets to gently feel for the bottle of hangover relief she’d left for him on the bedside table. It wouldn’t do to knock the damn thing over. Then he’d be forced to slurp it from the stone floor like a dog, because there was no way he’d go another moment without.


Feeling on top of the world, his fingers made contact with the elusive bottle; he flicked the stopper open with the well-practiced brush of his thumb and promptly chugged a measured mouthful. No sense wasting good potion. Not when there was plenty of Firewhiskey to be had another day.


*****


Hermione arrived back at the Homestead with a stupid grin that would not be wiped off her face, even by house-elves who were less than thrilled by her presence in the kitchen. She shooed them all out after getting a quick tour of the larder and seeing everything she wanted. It was tantamount to anarchy and it was utter bedlam outside the kitchen door, but Hermione didn't spare them a second glance. She was officially ready to start singing her second Rodgers and Hammerstein song since marrying Severus. Only this time, her feet danced across the tiled floors as she carried flour and baking bowls, and she sang loudly, 'I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love with the most wonderful guy!'


She was horribly off key. She knew it. Hermione had often been informed by Harry that she sang like 'an asthmatic cat being beaten in a rubbish can.' She did not know all the words. She did not know most of the words. What she knew was the refrain and how singing it made her chest swell with a happiness she hadn't felt in ages. She did not believe she actually loved him. Maybe. She'd process those thoughts later. But she felt something. And it made her want to dance and sing in her kitchen. And that was enough.


It was nearly lunch when Hermione arrived back at Azkaban. She was as wind-tousled as usual, her hair pulled up into a messy pony tail, not a pinch of makeup to her, and looking absolutely perfect. A cleaned up and sober Severus greeted her, his relief briefly evident in his eyes, but only briefly. It was not for her to know how vulnerable she made him feel. That sort of information paved the well-trodden path to ruin.


“Hi’ya,” she cheerfully greeted him once the heavy cell door opened. Hermione held up a large plate wrapped in Muggle tin foil. “Made you something.”


“You cooked?” Severus asked evenly with a cocked eyebrow, noticing a smear of… chocolate? on her chin. “I was told you didn’t cook. Have I caught you in a lie, Vixen?”


Her cheeky smile was infectious and Severus found himself grinning like an idiot along with her.


“Yep, you caught me. I can manage one dish with a small amount of success.” As Hermione began peeling away the foil, Severus’ nose began discreetly sniffing the warm rich aroma coming from her plate. “I absolutely adore chocolate chip griddle cakes. Although I did burn the side of one of them,” she pouted.


“Chocolate griddle cakes? Hardly a nutritious breakfast, Hermione.”


She shrugged nonchalantly, “Eh, there’s never a bad time for chocolate.”


Severus warily eyed the proffered plate and accepted a fork from her. “Hmm… it appears you prefer your chocolate with a little dab of griddle cakes, not the other way round. Still, I suppose I can manage a few bites.”


It was difficult work eating the still gooey cakes. It took much intestinal fortitude and persevering to clean the plate, but Severus Snape was a man who understood personal sacrifice. Even the slightly burned cake was dutifully digested.


Feeling quite satisfied, at least gastronomically satisfied, Severus leaned back into the head board and made room for his witch at his side. With an odd shyness Hermione sidled up next to him and snuggled into his chest. The carbohydrates were pulling heavily upon his eyelids, but as he curled back into her, breathing in the tropical scent of her shampoo, Severus softly lifted her chin with his hand, idly brushed a stray curl from her face, and chastely kissed her sweet chocolate flavored lips.


Her fingers strayed to the line of buttons on his chest, fiddling with them in restless energy. It was a testament to how well he could read her that Severus knew she wasn’t trying to undress him, but that didn’t mean poking her was off the table.


“I should satisfy you every night, witch, if that’ll mean breakfast in bed the next morning,” he fished. “What do you think of that?”


Severus’ lips quirked up as Hermione’s apple cheeks suffused with color. It made her all the more delicious.


“I think,” Hermione replied taking a deep lungful of breath, “I think, I would like that very much.”


He leaned in for the kill, capturing her pink lips and savoring them until she gasped and had to come up for air. He smirked in triumph. Ah well, let her breathe if she must, he thought, spying her collarbone. The witch was a bountiful feast and he found himself quite starved.


Severus applied himself judiciously to the task of discovering exactly which pulse points made the witch moan, and moan she did. Adorable shallow gasping pants that grew breathier as she wiggled beneath him, and he hadn't touched any of the delicious parts yet. Severus' hand tickled her ribs, encouraging her to writhe against him, loving the sensual way Hermione pressed herself against his hardness. She gripped his head, each hand painfully grasping an ear, and Severus was about to loudly complain until she pulled his face down to meet a puckered nipple peeking through the opening of her blouse. Severus was never a man to argue with a witch.


"Clothes," Hermione drew a breath as Severus sucked her areole into his mouth, "...off now."


He wasn't quite done, and Severus was certainly not in a hurry, until she moaned the most plaintive 'Please.' He was willing to give in just this once, if for no other reason than all of her other ideas thus far had been a hit. And well, he was really quite fond of where things were leading. He released her nipple with a 'pop' and smiled proudly at his witch.


Hermione's arms crossed her torso to lift her shirt as Severus hastily worked on his own buttons. His fingers weren't as deft as normal, but he was rather busy watching her, especially since she wasted no time stripping off her jeans and her knickers too. By the barely-there moonlight Severus hadn't actually had the opportunity to see her. He could feel her shapely curves and womanly softness, but could not watch her be revealed before him. That, and a fair share of alcohol had done its part. He suspected if he hadn't had the liquid courage he'd not have been so bold. But full daylight streamed through the high window, casting a square of light on their bed. He could see her creamy pale skin, the soft pink of her nipples, and golden brown of her curls that she showed to him without reservation, and was choked.


Now was not the time to be self conscious, not as she was already so deliciously naked, and had stayed in his bed overnight doing deliciously naked things, but there was a whole world of difference between nocturnal drunken molestation of each other and, well, not. His fingers stopped on the final two buttons of his shirt as Hermione crawled to him on her hands and knees. She sat in his lap at the end of the bed where he had made himself scarce, and pressed her bum into his thigh. Her fingers sifted through his locks before he belatedly realized she'd removed the thong that held them back, but he had a difficult time thinking when she scratched at his scalp. What woman had ever touched him there? The greasiness of his lank hair had always been a turn-off for most witches, though he had to admit her Good Hair Day was a miracle shampoo.


"Severus?" she whispered coyly into his ear. He might have responded with something that sounded coherent, but doubted it. "Do I need to undress you?"


Her fingers traveled from the hollow of his collarbone down his breastbone, fingering the sparse black hair that curled on his chest. He was damned unattractive, had known it for years, and his looks hadn't improved with age. Time and hard living hadn't been kind either, but the way she fucking whispered into the shell of his ear, tickling his neck with her breath and sitting on his lap as though she enjoyed it, made him believe in the possibility that she didn't find him repulsive.


"You may," he whispered in return.


"Oh, goodie," she romped on his lap with a lascivious grin. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this. Now scoot. Stand up."


He tried to glare at the bossy witch giving him orders in his bed, except that he had a bossy witch in his bed, and he rather wanted to keep her there. Pin her there. Possibly shackle her there. That, and her bossiness was kind of a turn-on. He rather thought he could handle a pushy witch as long as he got to push back. He quickly found that an insistent witch was not at all a bad thing, though given his history with dominant females began and ended with Bella Black, that wasn't saying much. But in short order Hermione had him standing before his bed, completely starkers, and eagerly awaiting whatever other dandy idea came from her lips.


"Hm..." Hermione said thoughtfully resting on the edge of their bed, her head cocked and staring at him as if he was one of her lab experiments. "Walk towards me."


He complied, smirking as his penis 'accidentally' hit her chest. "It's as I imagined. You may back up again," she waved.


Severus was astounded with her level of chutzpah, but complied. He just knew he'd have to reassert his dominance in their relationship damn soon. Just as soon as she finished having her wicked way with him. He wasn't going to deny her that. Not when she looked at him with such hunger. He was prepared to be magnanimous.


"Shall I strut around for your pleasure, Vixen? Or do you just want me to stand here naked?"


"No," she remarked in an impertinent manner. Her wand was out and she was bent over her knees surveying the bed frame. Severus crossed his arms across his chest and glared at her. He didn't like begin ignored, especially not while so damned hard, although as she bent over he could see the elegant lines of her back and her pert rump wriggling in the air. It was a decent trade.


"Ah ha!" Hermione mumbled just as his bed dropped several inches. She looked up triumphantly. "Shall we try this again? Walk towards me."


He could only oblige the lady's request; it was the only decent thing to do. Hermione wasn't nearly content to have him stand before her; she nudged his legs apart and sat between them, giving her full access to all his bits, and that was just fine by him.


Severus rested his hands on her shoulders, relaxing as her hands traveled the path from his knees to hip, stroking his skin gently, drawing nonsensical patterns with her fingers. It was really quite comforting to have her massage his legs and torso, except for the sizable erection that he was sporting that she wasn't paying any bit of attention to or the precum leaking out of it. Hermione kissed his hipbone where it protruded slightly, nipping the sensitive flesh and running her tongue between it and his navel. Well. He supposed if she wanted to prolong his pleasure, that was acceptable, as long as he could at least drench her neck and tits with his come. His knees threatened not to hold his weight as she drew him in and nuzzled his groin. Was she smelling him? He rather suspected she was. Hermione's hands continued to massage his legs as she nestled her face, blowing hot breaths of air on his cock.


One small curious hand traversed the path around his hips to tickle his sac. "Fuck," he exhaled under his shallow breath as she cupped him, massaging him there too, with the lightest touch. Her other hand wickedly dragged its nails up the back of his leg to insinuate fingers between his legs; she found his perineum and softly pushed.


He was damn near close to grabbing her head, tilting it back and shoving his cock past those pretty pink lips, when her tongue reached out to swipe a taste of his shaft. His fingers tensed on her shoulder in anticipation, digging into the soft flesh of her arms. Hermione nestled again in at his base, huffing little puffs of air while her tongue darted out to wet him. In agonizingly slow strokes she began to wet his dick, licking paths in a random manner that suited her, acquainting herself intimately with the details of the veins that stretched along his shaft toward the swollen head. Her talented fingers continued their assault on his balls, rolling them around while he could feel her inching a single digit from his perineum towards his anus. He was spread wide and open to her and Hermione intended to use him well. She'd kill him. He'd come everywhere, paint her, the walls, and bedsheets in his come, and she would be the death of him.


She lifted her head to look up at him, and her glossy eyes were half lidded with such a look of desire on her face that Severus fucking groaned. She desired him. There was no uncertainty in his mind. Even without his wand or Legilimency he could read her so well; Hermione was that obvious. He couldn't pretend that he was just some cock she craved, or a random screw she fancied. Hermione desired him. By locking eyes with him, she communicated her intention. She wanted him to watch her pleasure him, wanted him to see that she was the witch bringing him to climax. Possessive little witch, as if he could imagine anyone else but her on the end of his dick. As if Severus could have looked away if he wanted.


Hermione pulled on him, her fingernails biting into the flesh of his arse, as her lips covered the weeping tip. She tasted it, sweeping her tongue around the head, collecting all the essences gathered there and greedily sucking for more. Severus' traitorous knees reminded him again they were unable to hold him if she continued that line of thinking.


"Hermione," he rasped, holding her head between his palms, but not pulling him from her task. He had a thought to complete, but could not and she sucked on him, drawing his cock into her warm mouth and sucking so hard, if he released her head he believed she might engulf him full. Severus leaned on her shoulders for greater support and remembered how to finish the thought he had started. "Hermione, I can't... I've got to lie down." Hermione slowly dragged herself off of him, circling his head before releasing him from her mouth.


Severus turned and collapsed into bed, his legs hanging over the side, and looked up at his self-satisfied witch. Well, she did rather have a talent to be proud of, but then so did Severus. "Come here, Vixen," he purred, "let me return the favor."


Hermione wet her lips and grinned, "I thought you'd never offer."


He pulled her towards him, angling those silken thighs to straddle his face as Hermione stretched like a cat on top of him, moving her hands down his hips to fondle his erection. She palmed him a few times, toying with him until his lips touched her wet nubbin. He swiped one finger around her quim before entering her. Then she was nuzzling him again and Severus' eyes rolled back as Hermione took him into her mouth in a torturous back and forth. Severus loved having her atop him like this, her legs trembling as she keened and ached for a blistering orgasm. He loved her mouth on his cock, her fingers tickling and probing. They fed off of each other, a connected circuit of hungry mouths and hands. As he sped up to fuck her slit with his tongue, she took him faster in her throat. If he slowed down to suck her clit between his teeth, Hermione laved his head. Both giving and receiving, begging and reaching for release together. Until that is, the greedy little witch changed the game.


She ignored him when he slowed down. Severus was trying desperately to hold back, trying not to come, to hold on to the sensation of the sweet mouth engulfing him. She must have heard the obscene grunts and moans that vibrated through her clit as his tongue scoured every inch of her pussy, trying to commit it to memory, but she kept distracting him from his task. Her quim was so slick and her taste amazing, but Severus could hardly concentrate on his task as she bobbed on top of him dragging her lips up and down his shaft with hollowed cheeks, sucking wetly on his tip and probing his pucker with a wet finger again. Severus swore, as he applied himself to eating out her fresh pussy that he'd pay the witch back threefold. He'd find out what made her pitch and wail. He'd study every pulse point and erogenous zone of her delectable body, and then he'd be merciless.


"Fucking hell," he roared into her folds as the tiny finger discovered his prostate at the same time she opened her throat to him. There would be payback, this he swore to the Gods themselves.


His lips pulled at the little bundle of her clit, sucking it into his mouth sharply before rolling the pearl with his rasping tongue. Hermione shivered, and Severus continued, his fingers penetrating her, the loud sucking sound of her fucked sex adding to the mix of groans and slurps. She shuddered, the scream in the back of her throat shot down his cock. Severus couldn't help it. It was impolite and she'd probably never want to take him so deeply into the back of her throat, but he bucked and jerked as she swirled his prostate and squeezed his sac. Hermione drenched his face with her warm honeyed juices as he emptied himself into her.


The unrelenting mouth that sucked him dry was soft and tender in cleaning him and Severus attended to her as well. Such sweet nectar was not meant to be wasted by dribbling down her thighs.


They relaxed together, she in his arms against the headboard of his now lowered bed. Stroking each other gently and nuzzling noses into necks. He rather liked the lowered bed. And the impudent witch in his arms.


"Hermione," he whispered.


"Hmmm?"


"Did you forget the silencing charm again?"


"Damn it!"


Severus could only chuckle as he pulled her down into the pillows and brought the blankets around them. A mid-day nap would be good. He knew all those months ago when she stepped into his cell that she'd run amok with his finely tuned personal schedule. Now he had proof. As he tucked the witch more snugly into his arms where she sighed contentedly, he was very happy she had.


*****


Severus Snape was aware of a great many words used to describe him. Not many were as nearly unimaginative or uninspired as ‘git.’ He was quite self-aware and could adequately assess his strengths and weaknesses. Of all the terms he’d use to describe himself, a ‘cuddler’ was not one of them. Though, he supposed if he had to encircle her in his arms, he could manage. If she required it of him. Which, apparently she did, without asking, but the insistence was implied. It was a fair lot better than being cuddled. He couldn’t abide the feeling of someone else’s arms trapping him. Was he being paranoid? Possibly. Suspicious? Definitely. But he never put himself into positions where he couldn’t readily reach his wand. And even in Azkaban where there was no wand to be had, he was still haunted by ghosts. Hermione wriggled her butt closer into his groin. He could manage this cuddling business. He could even manage a pushy witch.


His eyes had just succumbed to slumber when Hermione bolted up in his arms.


“What’s that?” she shrieked.


“Bilge rat, my dear,” he muttered groggily.


“Get it! Kill it! I hate rats.”


“No.”


“No?”


“No. I won’t kill someone else’s dinner. You and I are not the only people here in this unholy place. There are several other cell blocks, and not all inhabited by the Kissed, I’d imagine. I will not deny someone else the opportunity for nourishment.”


“Have you eaten one before?”


“I have, and no, you may not ask any more questions on the subject. I do not know the nutritional content of a bilge rat. I do not know how they get past the warding; they’re rats. I rather suspect they’ll survive long after civilization has destroyed itself and this planet. Nor will I share any happy campfire memories of eating those filthy creatures with you, so resist the temptation to wave your hand in the air. I’m not your professor.”


She looked hurt. Wretchedly, indescribably hurt. ‘I’m sorry,’ did not come easy to him. He had been taught as a child never to apologize for trivial things like hurting tenderhearted witches’ feelings. He was only to debase himself with apologies if the infraction was great, the consequence severe, and he truly meant it. Saying ‘I’m sorry,’ just to be polite was not acceptable. It cheapened the contrition. But there were times in his past where he wished he had shed that pure-blooded programming his mother had insisted on instilling into him.


He wanted to say the words. It was obvious he had hurt her tenderhearted feelings. He didn’t want her to become a wretch like himself by losing those tenderhearted feelings. He turned his face and was warmed by them like they were the sun. If he locked her up in prison with him he’d turn her. He rubbed off on people, and everything he touched turned to shit. He would ossify her heart and turn it cold. That was why she deserved to be free and he deserved his penance. He was not a nice man, and she was a very good woman.


“You always do that,” she said in a hollow voice. “I know they might be inappropriate questions to ask, but you always shoot me down for asking questions. Why?”


She looked at him blankly, and he certainly didn’t know how to answer that question.


“You clearly ask too many questions,” he said dismissively.


“And? A curious mind is the hallmark of intelligence.”


“Next you’ll probably tell me that the only stupid questions are the ones that go unasked,” he sneered.


“They are,” her eyes lit up in triumph as if he had made her point for her and ignoring the sarcasm. “Stupid is something that cannot be helped. Ignorance can be helped.”


“Was that in Tuesday’s fortune cookie?”


Her jaw clenched. He could see the lines of her mouth tighten and Severus knew he was one pussy-whipped wizard, because if he pissed her off he was risking his chances at more. And he was fond of more. More was really good.


He sighed wearily. “What is it you wanted to ask?”


“No, that’s okay,” she remarked bitterly.


“Hermione,” he warned. He’d only play these games for so long. He’d not hand her his bits in a little silk bag.


“Any question I would have asked would be insensitive and possibly insulting. I get that, Severus, but I wish you wouldn’t shut me down like that. You have no idea how much it affects me. I didn’t just learn to stir potions in your class, I learned to doubt myself. To question myself. To weigh whether my curiosity was worth any embarrassment of asking. You taught me that whatever I had to offer your class didn’t matter.”


“Learning that life is a disappointment is a valuable life lesson. Modesty is a valuable lesson. Humility is as well. You forget, Hermione, that I was the teacher. Potions class was not supposed to be The Hermione Granger Show. I did not need you to give my lectures for me, or for some student to try to show me up in class.”


“You had a responsibility to encourage learning,” she said shrilly.


Severus hoped now wasn’t one of those times she went all out gorgon on him.


“You never encouraged me,” Hermione continued.


“Of course not,” Severus snapped. “You didn’t need encouragement. Tell me Hermione, what do you remember of Tracey Davis’ performance in class?”


Hermione racked her brain trying to answer, but had none. Davis hadn’t stayed through N.E.W.T. level Potions and she had just sort of forgotten about her. “How should I know? I don’t remember.”


“No, you wouldn’t, because Miss Davis hardly said a word. Ever. And yet her essays and potions often rivaled yours. She needed encouragement, not to be upstaged by a girl with something to prove. You did not need to reinforce your self-worth in my class. You did well enough in every subject to get your ego stroked on a daily basis. Sometimes life is not about you. There were sixteen other students in your Potions class.”


She looked fragile then. Close to tears. And Severus hated that. He drew her into his chest and wrapped his arms around the woman who resembled much too closely the little girl she had been. He supposed it was too much to ask for a simple easy relationship with an uncomplicated witch who never contradicted him, misunderstood him, or defied his will, but then that wouldn't be Hermione. And that wouldn't be a witch he could want. Need. Love.


“I’m sorry your feelings were hurt,” he whispered into the cloud of her hair. “I’m sorry you took it personally. I never wanted to hurt you. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”


She sniffed into his collarbone and Severus wasn't certain of how much face he'd lose from apologizing, but couldn’t muster the energy to give a damn.


“I’m sorry, Hermione.”


She left not long after, saying she was heading off to check on one of Gibson’s projects. Her eyes were a bit shiny, but she smiled and Severus was heartened. As she left, she promised she’d be back for dinner and some more.

*

A/N:

Chapter title: O! Plus! Perge! Aio! Hui! Hem! - Oh! More! Go on! Yes! Ooh! Ummm!

If you really care, the first Rodgers and Hammerstein song was 'Getting to Know You' from The King and I in chapter 18. 'I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love with a wonderful guy,' is from South Pacific. Hermione strikes me as a showtunes fan. Deal with it.

Beta Note:

To all the wonderful readers: Even though I'm against smoking in principal, I feel you should all be given a cigarette after the events of the last chapter and this one! (Did I not tell you the scenes you wanted were coming? :) ) Thanks for your reviews - I'm feeling the love!