The Gilded Cage

CB13 - King cakes are all over around here, so it’s not a prob snatching them up, it’s the eating of the cakes that gets me. Little slices.
Alina- I doubt understanding his reasons would make it hurt less, but it’s something that should have been said.
Carlieisastreetmonster- Satisfied customer! Woot!
Hermione Malfoy Fan- I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m with you regarding encouraging overlooked students, but I also think it’s a façade, it’s not like he was accommodating towards any student. Eh, tit for tat back and forth.
pytonyk- I wanted something different. Something that would give a quirky pause of, ‘Sev speaks Polish? Who knew?’ No other thought went into it.
neelix- I want them to move forward, not get hung up every time they reach a new development point. That would get old fast.
Elo, Heidi191976, Persevero, EleanorRigby, KillerK, Phoenix, anncee - Yea! Thanks loves. I’m glad the citrus satisfied. Scurvy would be bad. Hmm… with all the citrus fruit perhaps it’s time for Sangrias for everyone to go along with the ciggies, griddle cakes, and Chunky Monkey. Right. Not all at once.
Gryffindor_Slytherin- It’s a privilege of being married covered in Ch2, she’s his custodial guardian. The misspelling was intentional. Crackberry is a common slang term because BlackBerries are notoriously persnickety. They run on their own servers and sometimes synching them is a pain.


*

Chapter 41 - Verveces Tui Similes Pro Ientaculo Mihi Appositi Sunt


Hermione sat uncomfortably in what should have been a very supportive board room chair, sitting across from Hopper and his team of Muggle solicitors. The Muggle civil lawsuit was the first hurdle to cross, and she found it somewhat funny that the Muggle proceedings had taken less time to organize, whereas the Magical grievance into her business Hopper had filed hadn’t moved a bit. Hermione rather suspected that Misters Ffoulkes and Tattings had a hand in that. Ever since introducing the two gentlemen they had gotten along superbly and she retained both.


But that was not what was causing her to shift back and forth in her seat. Hermione wasn’t twitching because she was nervous going into the proceedings. Well, yes, actually. To put a fine point on it, she was a bit nervous about the proceedings, but her restlessness had more to do with the wonderful squish in her knickers.


She had stayed the night looking for comfort and a distraction, and he had been more than happy to provide both. That morning when she awoke in his arms, apprehensive and queasy from the idea of watching her company dissolve before her at the hands of the chinless wonder, Severus put his prodigious mind toward taking her anxiety and breath away by intimately acquainting her with his very talented fingers, mouth, lips, teeth and tongue.


A very thorough investigation by her husband, the consummate scientist, could not satisfactorily answer the question of which sensation she liked the best, when she screamed like a banshee when he used any of them. The bastard would not take ‘all’ for an answer. And had he not been asking such direct questions regarding his own judicious application of said talents, Hermione would have been hard pressed to say exactly what it was he'd been doing. Severus considered it earth-shattering research.


He had just come to the spectacular conclusion that sucking on her clit while tickling her sweet spot could make her come like a fountain, as opposed to fucking her with his tongue while his nose mashed in her clit only made her wantonly grind her pelvis into his beautiful nose. She was now rather fond of that nose. Sweat soaked, she had just come down from her amazing high when she noticed the time. She was going to be late.


Hermione donned last night’s rumpled clothes as quickly as she could and had only just pointed her wand on herself to hastily cast a cleansing charm to get rid of the scent of sex that clung to her, when that bastard stayed her hand. Severus warned her there would be no ‘more’ later that night if she took any measure to clean herself. Hermione smirked as she remembered him whispering that the scent of a sated woman was heady and would throw them for a loop. ‘Press the advantage,’ he had hissed. ‘You’ll have them thinking about your soaked knickers instead of business at hand.’


She couldn’t argue with Slytherin distraction techniques, even though she suspected it had more to do with his odd desire to ‘mark’ her. She was not territory, but then again, she liked a possessive Severus.


As she had dashed out towards the Apparition courtyard a red-faced Billy Mulciber mumbled something that sounded appallingly similar to, ‘The corridors echo, you know.’


They were nearly ready to begin and the Auror she had requested to witness the proceedings still had not shown up. It should not have been a difficult favor to call in, and yet it was met with covert hostility. He had said he hardly had any time to spare and could not stick around to chit-chat. Hermione understood. Chief Inspector Auror was a big position and heavy with responsibility, but there was also that doubting voice in the back of her mind, whispering that he was avoiding her.


Mr. Ffoulkes shuffled his paperwork, a sign Hermione had learned meant he was annoyed, while her other counsel, Mr. Tattings, reviewed a memorandum. She glanced at the clock. If he stood her up, she would have his guts for garters.


Fifteen minutes past the hour, Harry dashed in mumbling apologies and took a seat at the far end of the table from her. She was grateful that he remembered to dress in Muggle attire instead of his crimson Auror robes. It was a trade-off that he looked less imposing without them, but Hermione smirked when the Douchebag choked at seeing the well known wizard. Even when dressed to blend in, Harry stuck out. His lightning bolt scar was not as red and raw as it had once been, but it was there, and his shaggy-haired look was unmistakable.


Beneath the table Mr. Ffoulkes surreptitiously waved his wand. Mr. Tattings grinned.


Twenty minutes into the proceedings Hermione was also grinning. Hopper had two Muggle solicitors sitting on his side of the table and she had already nick-named them Tweedle-dumb and Tweedle-dumberer.


“I’m sorry, but we cannot find record of Mr. Hopper’s employment,” Mr. Ffoulkes stated.


“They cannot find record of Mr. Hopper’s employment,” Tweedle-dumb repeated.


“Do you have proof of your employment, Mr. Hopper?”


“Do you have proof of your employment, Mr. Hopper?” Tweedle-dumberer asked, genuinely perplexed.


“Well, ah,” Hopper shifted nervously, “That is to say, ah, no. I have a bank stub from Gringotts.”


Mr. Tattings smiled, and it reminded Hermione of a predator who had just scented an easy kill. She was rather glad she had introduced the two. Ffoulkes seemed to rub off on him well. “Really?” he purred, “I’ve never heard of such a bank. Tell me, where is Gringotts located?”


“They, uh, have branches around London.” Hopper gritted his teeth knowing full well he could not afford to answer any questions. The moment he mentioned anything in the wizarding world, he knew he’d be dragged off by the famous Auror Harry Potter for breaking the Statute of Secrecy.


Mr. Ffoulkes put down the paperwork he had been sorting through and pierced his gaze directly at the glassy-eyed Muggle solicitors. “A word of advice, gentlemen. Drop your client. It’s rather apparent he’s wasting your time. Yes?”


“Yes,” they echoed.


The men were not Imperiused, just given a strong near-hypnotic suggestion, and Ffoulkes assured her it was in no way illegal. He was certain of it. The spell didn’t work well on wizarding folk, but worked much like a Fascination for Muggles and they always ate it up. Hermione bit her lip to keep from adding, ‘These aren’t the Droids you’re looking for.’


Once his counsel left him, Hopper sat back looking winded and pale.


“Auror Potter, are you satisfied with the proceedings and willing to sign a sworn affidavit attesting to the fact that there was no wrongdoing here?” Mr. Ffoulkes asked.


“Yes, Sir,” Harry responded easily.


“Jolly good.”


Harry took that as his cue to bolt out the door. Hermione watched him go with narrowed eyes. He must have known of her intent to snag him on his way out.


“This! This!” Hopper sputtered, having regained his bearings.


“This is what you can expect every time we lock horns, Mr. Hopper,” Ffoulkes interrupted. “As you can plainly tell, and as Auror Potter will attest, we violated no magical law. The integrity of our people is safe, which is more than I can say for the jeopardy you’ve brought to our doorstep by involving Muggle authorities and proceedings.”


Mr. Ffoulkes and Tattings, apparently of one mind on the matter, rose in unison from the table. Tattings delivered the parting shot. “One more thing, Mr. Hopper. Drop the wizarding lawsuit. It’s frivolous and the Wizengamot does not enjoy having their time wasted. I should know, I play golf with most of them.”


Heart soaring and feeling free, Hermione exited the boardroom jubilant and hoping never again to see that odious wizard.


“My dear, you have my congratulations,” Ffoulkes offered. Tattings followed suit.


As nice as celebrating their victory was, Hermione was anxious to leave. A wizard to the North was waiting to add his own personal celebration.


*****


“We won!”


Severus could hear it echoing off the flagstone, Hermione’s voice turning high pitched and slightly girly. He smirked and binned his paper.


"We won!” Hermione jubilantly cried.


Severus couldn’t help but break into a genuine smile as he heard his excited witch hastily tap his ward-code into the door frame. As the wards were shimmering, Hermione had it wrenched open, hardly hesitating before throwing herself into his chest, fitting herself perfectly underneath his chin. Severus embraced his wriggling witch feeling her warm body pressed against his, the light scent of tuberose wafting off her Muggle clothes and closed his eyes, committing to memory the sensation of his Hermione filling his arms.


"We won," she breathed into his collar. "We won!"


Severus lifted an amused eyebrow over the top of his witch as she clung to him in a fierce hug. The daft girl had left his cell door completely open. Not that anyone minded really, but perhaps it was best not to flaunt their special status, one no doubt purchased by Hermione's generous nature and curry take-away. But he did not have the opportunity to make a witty remark, as Hermione's greedy lips pressed to his and the arms that had been wrapped around his waist were eagerly untucking his shirt. "Ah," he sighed into her collarbone as she nibbled on an earlobe, the sacrifices he made to keep his witch happy.


"We won!"


“So I heard,” he murmured lowly into her halo of wind-whipped corkscrew curls, calming her with his gentle tones. “I believe congratulations are in order.”


Hermione glanced up at him flashing a predatory grin. “Oh yes, you must congratulate me,” she backed Severus up until his calves hit the lowered bed.


Severus sat and raised Hermione’s narrow pencil skirt up her hips, gripping her there and lowering her on to his lap.


“Ms. Hermione? Is everything alright?” Billy’s voice interrupted from the open door way. He looked in and saw the couple in an intimate embrace and blushed crimson. “I…uh… the alarms said the door was left open,” he mumbled to the ground before swinging the door shut and casting his own silencing charms. Azkaban was a place accustomed to shrieks and moaning, but Ms. Hermione’s could be heard throughout most of the echoing place, and it wasn’t the kind of moaning they’d heard much before. He shook his head and trudged back along the corridor.


Hermione had taken hold of Severus' hair rather violently, pulling on his scalp and wrenching his head to the side to give her the access she craved to his jugular where she applied her tongue and teeth to nibble him to death.


“The Wizengamot petition,” Severus rasped, “what of that?”


Hermione traced a slow path up to his earlobe, sucking it in and biting slightly before whispering, “Done and gone.”


Severus moved his hands up and down her curved hips, sliding them beneath the hem of her untucked dress shirt and gripped the soft flesh of her torso. “Thank the Gods, I was beginning to fear I’d have to pay him a personal visit.”


Hermione sat back on his knees, pinning him with wide eyes, “You’d do that?” she stuttered.


“If I had to,” he frowned. This was not the type of pillow talk Severus was interested in engaging. “If need be, I would have seen to Mr. Hopper myself.”


“You’d leave Azkaban?”


Severus rolled his eyes, “Only for as long as I needed to convince Mr. Hopper to seek his fortune elsewhere.”


“But you’d leave.”


“Yes,” he hissed. “You, witch, are mine. Prison or not, it’s my duty to protect you.” He noticed immediately how her eyes became slightly glassy and recalled how flushed and eager she became when he had vocalized his willingness to become violent on her behalf.


Strange witch had a need to feel possessed, a rather good fit given Severus was rather possessive of the witch straddling his thighs, pressing her pink underwear against the tight bulge in his trousers. His fingers smoothed along the tips of her nipples poking through the constricting material, before reaching behind her to the clasp. Her breasts bounced free and Severus attended to them, drawing the pads of his fingers against her delicate skin, smoothing and tracing as she arched back offering herself to him.


“What would you have done,” she gasped, and Severus moved to slide her outer jacket off her shoulders. They dropped in a heap below as Severus turned his attention to the little pearl buttons that dotted her shirt.


“I believe I’ve answered that already once before, Vixen.” He exposed her soft tummy and the ridges of her ribcage, the bra that hung loosely around her chest, and her soft breasts tipped with swollen pink nipples, and revealed the hollow of her neck before sliding the shirt off completely. Severus gently pulled each bra strap down her arms, using the lightest touch to prick the hairs on her arms up. “I would leave in early evening, just as Mr. Cooley took over the swing shift,” he growled softly into her ear.


"You couldn’t get out of this cell,” she interrupted.


Severus resisted rolling his eyes again. Was she really that dense? “The wards are programmed with a simple pass code which just so happens to be my prisoner number. I knew this within my first week. Accessing it from the inside, even with the magical dampeners inside here would be difficult, but not insurmountable. And once out I would slip into my Animagus form for greater stealth.


“Mr. Mulciber and Mr. Cooley both carry dragon heartstring wands that are compatible with my magic; Stunning them wandlessly and disarming them would not be a challenge.” Hermione was loose on his lap, feeling boneless as he pulled her into him. Severus shifted slightly and laid back on the bedspread, Hermione’s weight pinning him slightly as he moved her hair to the side to whisper in her ear.


“From there I’d Apparate to the mainland and quickly snap the wand. I’d travel by Muggle means, Confounding and Fascinating them wandlessly until I could make it into London. My old contacts are no doubt all gone or have been pushed further underground, but there are still plenty of fine upstanding moral citizens whom I could call upon for aid.” Severus stopped to smirk at his witch who was shamelessly grinding her hips atop him.


“Even without means, blackmail is still an effective currency, and in that department I am loaded. Finding your Mr. Hopper would take very little effort. I’d wait, stalking him, and learning his movements, watching for an opportunity. And when he was alone and unguarded I’d cut him with my knife and let him die like a common Muggle. I’d leave him to bleed out on the streets and make my way back to this cell.”


Hermione gasped and raised her head to look at him with something akin to horror and desire. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling slightly.


“Of course I would,” Severus returned coldly. “And I’d be perfectly justified in doing so. Nobody fucks with my witch.”


Every word was true. He felt it in the fiber of his being. Severus knew he’d never leave Azkaban for himself. He was a poor worthless sod who deserved to be locked away, but for Hermione, he’d do anything. He could never save himself, but he’d risk it all to save her. The ferocity of his belief must have shown through, because Hermione recognized the truth in his darkened glimmering eyes.


She stared at him as if she’d never really gotten a good look at him, and Severus grimaced. He’d told her he wasn’t a nice man. He had warned her he was a Death Eater. Given the circumstances, stabbing the carotid artery or splitting his neck from ear to ear was downright merciful. It wasn’t like he was going to hang the wizard upside down and slowly flay him, though the idea did have its own appeal. Severus worried that he’d crossed a line between Hermione’s fantasies of being with a bad boy and the reality of what that meant.


He smoothly switched gears, “But it won’t have to come to that now. You’ve won. You beat him, Hermione.” Severus tried to infuse his words with enough enthusiasm to distract her while rubbing small circles into her back.


“Oh, yes,” she said absently, her eyes focused on a point beyond his head, “we won.”


“And that deserves a reward,” he purred seductively. He needed to distract her; he knew she had no real stomach for bloodshed, just schoolgirl delusions of being with a man who she couldn’t take home to mummy and daddy. And Severus was not ‘meet the parents’ material.


As his lips touched hers, Severus was able to disengage her mind from the swirling thoughts that troubled her brow. He deftly drank from her mouth, guiding her to respond as he reached behind her and unfastened the skirt bunched around her waist. He wanted his witch; the time for small talk was over.


Severus rolled on top of her, and Hermione moaned and threw her hands above her head, wantonly displaying her chest to him. Severus cupped her beautiful full mounds, running his tongue between the valley and licking at her tightened peaks. He pulled back and stood at the edge of the bed, running his hands down her torso, and easing her skirt past her hips, dragging the material across both knees, to drop alongside the other discarded clothing. He took a moment to watch her, his eyes roaming between her messy curls that surrounded her head to the milk-white and pink sight of her breasts, to her pantyhose and scrap of fabric that barely concealed her treasure. His treasure.


Severus lifted a foot and kissed her arch, nuzzling the satiny nylon clad foot just a bit before turning to the other foot which Hermione proffered to him. Wanton Vixen. He lightly bit the flesh of her arch and stroked the tightened muscles, his eyes locked upon hers. Her chocolate brown eyes had gone soft and glassy again, half lidded and drowsy. Severus much preferred her like this as he smoothed and manipulated her shapely calves. Hermione obliged him by lifting her hips when he slid his thumbs beneath the top of her nylons and pulled them down, taking her knickers down in the process. She waited writhing on the bed, stretching out arms towards him as Severus plucked at the buttons on his shirt before stripping it off.


Severus stood proudly before her in the full light of day, his charcoal high-waisted trousers showing off his trim abdomen and flexing slightly the wiry muscles of his shoulders. She squirmed and sat up, reaching for him again in earnest as her arms encircled his waist and Hermione pressed her head into his hardened crotch, scenting him. His witch had no shame. No hesitation. Hermione wanted him.


Her desire for him, though she’d displayed it readily every time they came together and their naked flesh touched, still surprised him. Not even the puckered scar on his neck or the graying shadow of his mark repulsed her. Her impatient fingers worked his trousers open and Severus stepped out of them and kicked them away; Hermione's face inches from his dick was the only thing he could focus on. He pushed her back into the mattress and followed her to the top of the bed, spreading her knees and sinking into her welcoming thighs. His spine and lower back tingled in anticipation.


Hermione sighed loudly under the pressure of his body, and warmth of his masculine heat touching her. She rubbed her chest against him and tilted her neck to the side allowing Severus’ lips to make her dizzy by kissing at the junction of her throat and shoulder. His fingers slid between them, to test her quim, and found Hermione slick and perfectly read for him. His touch to her bud sent her keening and grinding on his hand.


“Mine,” he growled in her ear.


“Yours,” she whispered in return.


He felt warm liquid bubbling up his shaft and bursting at the tip, the precum leaking out as Severus stroked her folds with his cock. Taunting her, but not entering her as she begged with breathy gasps for him to fill her. Little shivers buzzed and raced around the small of his back.


“Tell me you want me,” Severus rasped.


“Oh god, yes,” Hermione breathlessly panted.


“Tell me, Vixen,” he choked. On his lips the words, ‘you love me’ were swallowed, a fraction of a second before they were uttered. He could not ask that. No, not ever. If she said no, if she hesitated at all, he would be lost. Best never to ask. Best never to say it first.


“Oh yes, please Severus,” she she pleaded bucking her hips lightly into his, reveling at the slight contact their bodies made. Hermione bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming out and Severus made an oath he’d break the witch of the habit. Damned erotic, but not now. Not when he needed to hear every fucking sound.


Severus swore lightly, committing her desperate voice to memory before guiding himself to sit at her hot entrance. He nudged the tip in and Hermione moaned. She was so wet and hot, sliding into her tight channel took no effort. Severus groaned as he filled her, seating himself completely in the witch.


The tingling at the base of his spine exploded.


Severus instantly softened, as useless as a dead Flobberworm.


“Fuck!” he swore, beating his fist into the yielding pillow by her head.


“Severus?” Hermione asked dazedly. She clenched him with her inner muscles, feeling the slackened penis inside of her. Absently Severus catalogued the feeling of her around him, her softness and firm muscles gripping him, the depth that he filled her, and how she felt, her pelvic bones resting against and cradling his balls between them. Because he knew he ought to take the opportunity to enjoy his wife while it lasted.


“Fucking wards,” he mumbled dejectedly into her hair. He flexed and wiggled just a bit, hoping beyond hope his erection would return. He knew it wouldn’t, it probably wouldn’t participate until he withdrew from her.


“Of course,” she sighed, her shoulders sagging. Severus began shamefacedly pulling away, when Hermione stilled him. "Just one more minute," she whispered. "Please Severus, don't move just yet. Just stay there for a bit and let me feel you inside me, even like this."


Severus paused, stock still and unmoving, his face an unreadable mask as she held him contentedly close to her body, Hermione's soft sighs causing him to clench his teeth. He felt humiliated, a burning disgust that radiated from the pit of his stomach and made him nauseous. Finally joined with his wife, buried balls deep inside her, and unable to do anything about it. He was unable to perform as a man, and yet there Hermione was, flexing around him, begging to stay within her so she could make a memory of what it was like to finally make love to her husband. There was no mercy in the world.


"It shouldn't be like this," he said softly.


"I know, but it's okay," Hermione reassured him, stroking the curve of his back with the lightest whisper of fingertips. "We'll manage."


Severus caught himself before he laughed. A hysterical laugh born of frustration and a tight feeling in his chest he refused to name. He was impotent and unable to fulfill his obligations as a man, and Hermione, the offended party with a lifeless dick hanging in her, was trying to sooth his bruised ego. He hesitated and turned a fearful eye towards her, nearly expecting a look of disgust, or worse yet, pity, to betray her gently spoken words. She was waiting for him to turn his face towards her, and smoothed her fingers down his face, brushing his misshapen nose and cheeks. Hermione placed a light kiss on his lips, it was a thin balm for his humiliation, but nevertheless it soothed.


They both had known per prisoner restrictions the wards made it impossible for him to impregnate his wife. They both had known that per his life sentence he was ineligible for conjugal visits, and prison regulations had specifically spelled out that he would be unable to penetrate her. But until then neither had known precisely what that meant. Severus was slightly amazed he’d been able to enter her at all. Not that it was much consolation for the humiliation of a soft cock inside of her unsatisfied body.


After a long moment of dwelling Severus spoke again, daring to hope that his brilliant know-it-all witch could somehow, 'magically' make everything all right again. “You can’t lift the wards, can you?” he asked beneath a quirked eyebrow. He thought not, but it was best to ask. She was the witch with the wand who had familiarized herself with the warding when she fixed the climate controls.


“Maybe if it were cell specific, but I think the enchantment is over the entire prison. I’d have to play with all of Azkaban's wards to find the right one, and that’s not likely to go unnoticed.”


He acknowledged her logic with a grunt and rolled to the side of her, pulling himself wetly from her, and Hermione snuggled into his shoulder. He held the curve of her hip tightly and gently asked if she wanted him to pleasure her. Just because he was quite literally fucking useless, didn’t mean he would ignore her needs. She smiled at him softly, drawing her fingers lightly down the bridge of his nose and sadly tracing the lines of his cheeks and lips again. She paused to trace the deep line between his brows, a gesture that eased the tension of his budding headache, and Severus relaxed into her ministrations.


"No, Severus, I have all I need right here," she responded. He was certain she was trying to be comforting, but Severus was in no mood to be placated like a child, and scowled in return.


Hermione sighed deeply, and smiled to herself. Maybe this was a good thing, she rationalized. Perhaps it would be the impetus he needed to join her at the Homestead, after all, sex was a big motivator.


Severus vowed then and there, one fist tightly clenching a pillow, his other fist gripping his bride’s hip - if he ever left Azkaban he’d fuck his wife so hard and often their marriage bed would have a permanent Hermione-shaped indentation.


A/N:
Chapter title: Verveces Tui Similes Pro Ientaculo Mihi Appositi Sunt - I have jerks like you for breakfast

Special thanks for help on this chapter to Christev20 and Mischevious_t for the assistance in overhauling this chapter.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a review, I love hearing from you. AV