Sauce for the Gander

A/N: This story is \"payment\" to Lovesthepotionboy for services rendered. Thanks, Kait!

***

On the anniversary of Voldemort’s final defeat, all the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix met in the banquet room of the fine Wizarding restaurant to commemorate the event. Hermione hated the press of awkward bodies and the social negotiations of who was going to sit next to whom. She held back, expecting Molly to direct her to the “kids” end of the table, but Ron was sitting between Fred and George and as Hermione moved towards Harry, Ginny took the last empty seat next to the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice.

Instead, the maitre d’ pulled an empty chair out for Hermione. The subtle pressure of the chair behind her knees and she sat, the napkin whisked from the plates and onto her lap before she could see who her dinner partners were.

A goblet of water and a glass of a pale straw-colored wine appeared at Hermione’s place. A bowl of soup and a fine silver spoon appeared quickly thereafter.

“But I haven’t thought of anything yet!” Hermione’s confusion marked her, once again, as an outsider.

Mad-eye Moody patted Hermione’s left knee. “This is a high class establishment,” he said. “The plates give you what you want before you know you want it. It’s a very powerful charm.” The Auror had a lump of foie gras with toast points in front of him.

Curious, Hermione turned to her other side. “Professor Snape? What have you got?”

The man had cleaned up well, his hair washed and tied back behind his ears. He wore his customary black robes, but she supposed they suited him. His starter was another bowl of soup, something green and creamy. Hermione watched him sip and make a face. “This is not what I would have ordered,” he insisted. “Cream of asparagus soup is best in the spring, when the asparagus is in season.”

Tonks, sitting on the other side of Professor Snapetchetched his theatrical rejection of his starter. “Sevvie, I am beginning to think you are constitutionally sour.” Tonks’ plate held a haystack of “frites” smothered in some sort of dark cheesy sauce. It looked like a heart attack on a plate, but the auror was eating the mess with her fingers and seemed to be enjoying every bit of it.

Hermione turned to her own order. The first spoonful surprised her. “It’s sour!” she said.

“What is it?” Moody peered at the bowl.

“Some sort of chilled soup.” The second bite wasn’t as shocking. In fact, she rather liked the sweet-sour taste provoking her salivary glands. It was an excellent starter, but nothing she would have thought to order for herself.

Tonks leaned over. “If you like sour things, distract Sevvie for me. I’m going to make a play for Bill Weasley.”

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Auror Tonks, will you please desist? I loathe the epithet you have bestowed upon me. By all means, ignore me in favor of Bill Weasley.”

“Cheers! Thanks!” Tonks said, turning her back on Snape without a second thought.

Hermione sipped at the wine, and found it good. But she still felt uncomfortable seated here. She had little in common with Moody, and knew from experience that Snape only spoke when he chose to. He did not look very talkative today. But Tonks had effectively cut him off, so Hermione supposed it was her duty to make polite conversation, should he want it.

“Do you know what this is?” Hermione asked the man to her right.

Snape sighed. “No, Miss Granger, but I am certain you are about to tell me.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, it was an inquiry. I have no idea what I’m eating. I was hoping you might know.”

“Something the Gryffindor Know-it-all does not know?” Snape chuckled somewhat cruelly. “I suppose you are lost if you do not have a book in which to look things up.”

Laughing, she offered him her spoon. “I haven’t been called that since graduation. Oh, that brings back memories.” Hermione watched Snape take a critical sniff of the liquid in the spoon. Like a snake, his tongue darted out to taste it. His eyes lit up.

“Ah! Rose-hip soup!” He cast longing eyes at her almost full bowl.

“Would you like to trade? I love asparagus.” Gryffindor courage kept her upright in the chair as Severus Snape turned his full attention to her.

He stared intently at her, but did not explode. “Yes,” he said. They traded bowls and each ate happily. If anyone noticed the exchange, they were too polite to comment.

As people finished their starters, the bowls and plates began to diear.ear. Hermione sipped some of her very excellent wine and waited for the entrees.

“What is this?”

The surprised exclamation from her dinner companion attracted Hermione’s attention. She did not notice the slices of crispy duck skin on a bed of julienne spring onions appear in front of her.

Severus Snape stared at a large plate of white half-moon rolls surrounding a small dish of a thick brownish colored sauce. “And how am I supposed to eat it? I have been provided with no utensils.”

“Oooh! Steamed buns!” She reached across Snape’s personal space and dipped a finger into the bowl. Licking the pungent sauce from her pinky she smiled. “and hoisin sauce. These are usually served as an accompaniment to…”

Snape noticed the food on her plate. “Peking duck?”

Hermione laughed. “I think we’re supposed to share.”

“I do not share,” Snape insisted haughtily.

“You didn’t mind eating my soup,” Hermione reminded him, snagging one of his steamed buns and splitting it open along the seam. She used a small bunch of the green onion strands as a brush, dipping it in the hoisin sauce and stuffing the onions and sauce into the bun. A slice of duck followed. Hermione ate the resulting “sandwich” happily and licked her fingers to catch the last drips. Snape glared. She offered him her plate. “Duck?”

His willpower lasted until she turned her back on him to peer at Moody’s beef stew.

Moody called him on it. “I saw that, Snape. No fair stealing Hermione’s food when she’s not looking.”

Snape mumbled something through a mouthful of bread and duck.

“It’s okay. We’re sharing,” Hermione told the auror blithely.

Moody raised the eyebrow over his magical eye. It was quite disturbing. “Is that so?”

“I’m trying to fatten him up so he can catch himself a wife,” Hermione joked.

Bits of duck flew across the table. Snape covered his mouth with his napkin and apologized to the table before performing a cleaning spell.

“Cut a little too close to home, eh, Snape?” Moody spoke loudly, but he didn’t quite cover the rising hum of chatter as everyone realized what was happening.

“The plates give you what you want…”

“I guess they wanted to share?”

“Well, it’s not like she’s still his student.”

Hermione blushed, but continued eating. However, now she was highly sensitized to the intimacy of their situation. Every time she bumped Snape’s elbow, her blush brightened. She caught Ron staring at her, concernedly. She smiled down the table at him, and he seemed to relax, but Hermione was glad when Snape consumed the last scraps of duck and spring onion and both plates disappeared.

Wiping duck-greasy fingers on her napkin, she examined Snape’s familiar profile. That heroically proportioned nose suited him. He wouldn’t be Snape without that sneer, or those intent, penetrating looks. She wondered what dessert would bring.

Desserts began appearing: tall chocolate towers, frothy fruit confections, layered cakes and rich custards. To her left, Moody tapped the crust of his crème brulee. To her right, Snape dug a fork into a flaky tart, rich with cherries and chocolate cream. Hermione was a little disappointed in the small bowl of sludge that appeared in front of her. She had no spoon or fork, but it was too thick to drink out of the bowl.

“What is this?” Hermione asked.

Snape spared her a glance. “It appears to be a thick, unappetizing sauce.” He plunged his fork into a cherry and ate it happily.

“I don’t even have a spoon,” Hermione wailed, feeling cheated.

“Maybe you’re supposed to eat it with your fingers,” Moody suggested. “Like that Hawaiian stuff. What do you call it? Poi?”

Tentatively, Hermione touched the surface of the sludge. It clung to her finger. She licked it off.

The intense taste of chocolate was overwhelmed a moment later by a warm tingling sensation throughout her body.

Half hidden under her plate, Hermione found a small paintbrush. The bristles were soft and tickled her hand slightly. Dipping the brush into the sludge, Hermione painted a stripe on the back of her hand. The chocolate patch dried, leaving a dark line on her skin, a change in color the only indication that she’d applied anything. Hermione licked her hand. She could still taste the chocolate, but faintly. Her fingers were tingling happily, though.

“Snape, give me your hand for a minute.”

He grumbled irritably but complied without hesitation.

Hermione painted a stripe of chocolate across the inside of his wrist. The chocolate dried, a dark mark against his pale skin.

“What are you doing?” Snape asked, more annoyed than concerned.

Hermione bent her head to lick the chocolate stripe on Snape’s wrist. The intense chocolate flavor overwhelmed mom momentarily.

Severus Snape froze, fork halfway between his plate and his mouth. He exhaled on a groan. “Oh, that’s… good!” He sounded surprised.

His eyes were dark with emotion when Hermione looked up from the now-pale skin on his wrist. It seemed she could only eat the chocolate off other people’s bodies. Severus Snape was breathing heavily, his dessert forgotten.

Hermione laid the paintbrush across the bowl and thought very hard at the plate. A moment later the bowl and brush disappeared, replaced by a gaily-colored takeout box. She lifted the cardboard flap. A squeeze bottle of chocolate sludge, a clean paintbrush and some wizarding condoms rested innocently inside. She closed the box again, thought hard and a fork appeared next to her plate.

Boldly, Hermione reached over to attack Snape’s cherry chocolate tart.

“And what makes you think you are entitled to half of my dessert?” Still recovering from the sensual assault on his wrist, his attempt at intimidation failed.

Hermione chewed and swallowed and smiled at her former professor. “I’m entitled to half of your dessert because later you’re going to help me eat mine.”

Severus Snape was not a stupid man. He saw the takeout box, the satisfied smirk on Hermione’s face and the lifted eyebrow he was getting from Mad-eye Moody.

“Eat quickly,” Snape growled, and pressed his knee against hers under the table.

As the port and coffee were being served, Ron sidled around the table. “Hey, Moody? Did you notice Snape and Hermione sneaking out?”

“Oh, is that what they’re doing?” The auror seemed unconcerned.

“Snape was holding a takeout box. Do you know what was in it?”

Moody’s magical eye swiveled around to look at Ron. “I didn’t see a thing,” he lied, his grin giving him away.

***

Snape put the dainty takeout box on the kitchen counter. Hermione locked the front door and rested against it. Her flat was miniscule. The front door opened directly onto the kitchen/bedroom combination. The bathroom was through a door on the other side of the room.

“Cozy.” His eloquent sneer did not fade as he stalked across the room.

Hermione shrugged. “After all those years living in the girls’ dorm, I value my privacy. It’s the best I could afford on my salary.”

Snape opened the door to examine the toilet facilities. “It’s clean at least. House elves?”

“Certainly not!” Hermione had been toying with the notion of reforming S.P.E.W. with a better acronym and a public relations budget, but decided it would have to wait until she could afford a budget. “I clean it myself.”

“You deserve better,” he said, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“Why?” Hermione fetched the takeout container and sat next to him. “I’m just another mudblood with a Hogwarts education. Everybody’s got to start somewhere. I don’t get paid enough for anything better.”

“The Order could have arranged…”

Hermione shook her head. “No. I want to succeed on my own merits. I need to prove myself. Anything the Order arranged would have felt like a hollow victory. I like my job, even if it can be a bit…”

“Dull?” Snape finished, knowing her appetite for learning was undiminished.

“Vanilla,” Hermione agreed. “Snape?”

“Severus,” he corrected, taking her chocolate smeared hand and kissing the dark stain.

“Severusssss…” She hissed as the pleasure from his hot mouth on the back of her hand banished any lingering shyness. “I want some more chocolate.”

They fumbled the takeout box open and Hermione extracted the squeeze bottle.

“Give me your hand, Severus Snape.” Hermione outlined his long, sensitive fingers with ribbons of chocolate. Barely waiting for the chocolate to dry, she licked his thumb clean and sucked on his index finger. Normally so reserved, the man shuddered and moaned gratifyingly under delicate swipes of her tongue and more enthusiastic use of her mouth.

“My turn.” He took the bottle and a paintbrush. “Please hold your hair out of the way.”

Hermione pulled her short curly hair away from her face. With an artist’s hand, Severus painted a chocolate necklace around her throat, a cabochon pendant of sweetness dangling between her breasts. Putting the bottle aside, Severus embraced her, burying his face in her cleavage to lick the chocolate decorations between them.

Even without the heightened sensations the chocolate provoked, Hermione reflected, this was probably the most sensuous experience she’d ever had. They were both still fully clothed and their hands were still safely resting in neutral places, his on her back, hers around his shoulders. Never the less, Hermione felt as though she were about to fly apart into a million pieces. Severus nibbled the chocolate from her collarbone, carefully and deliberately working his way up to the join between shoulder and neck.

She loved his hands and would have loved to anoint them again, but she didn’t want to interrupt him while he was still so pleasantly occupied at the nape of her neck. Fishing her wand from her sleeve, Hermione removed the top half of his clothing and fetched the squeeze bottle to hand. She used it to draw a spiral design on the round slope of his shoulder that became a wiggly line down his arm. As she began removing her primitive artistic endeavor with lips and tongue, Severus took the bottle from her hand.

“I have a difficult time sharing.” He growled and gilded the outer curve of her left ear with chocolate.

“You were very good about it this evening. I know I took shameful advantage.” Hermione nibbled the inside of his elbow and they both shifted on the bed to get more comfortable. He scooted back and she turned toward him and threw her leg over his lap. “I’ll have to try and make it up to you, somehow.”

Having lost his wand when Hermione removed his coat and shirt, Severus was reduced to undressing her the muggle way. The pearl buttons on her blouse were simple to manage, but he fumbled a bit before unhooking her bra and drawing it off her shoulders. It joined her blouse on the floor. “Come here,” he instructed.

Shivering, Hermione shifted to straddle his lap. With a determined expression, Severus began painting her breasts, circling each globe with symmetrical patterns, working his way in towards each nipple. The sensation of the soft chocolate-coated brush teasing her nipples caused a riot between her legs. Hermione shifted restlessly over him until he gripped her hips with his hands. She tried to keep still, but when he followed the chocolaty tracks of the brush with his mouth, nothing short of “stupefy” could have immobilized her.

When he’d licked the last traces of chocolate from Hermione’s body, Severus was panting harshly. His arousal pressed urgently against his trousers, a condition exacerbated by Hermione’s relentless fidgeting. Her hips rocked back and forth over his. “Do you even know what you do to me?” He gripped her hips more firmly, this time to pull her close. He wanted to grind his aching hardness against that hot softness above him.

Opening her eyes slowly, Hermione undulated against him, the bulge in his trousers feeling so right when it pressed against her. She teased him with a wicked smile. “Is there any chocolate left?” Not daring to ask, he handed her the bottle. Not more than a few spoonfuls of the chocolate sauce remained.

Hermione rolled off him and put the bottle on the nightstand.

Severus propped himself up on his elbows to look at her. “Is that it? The chocolate’s gone and you’re done with me?”

Shaking her head, Hermione knelt by his feet and removed his shoes and socks carefully, tenderly. She removed the rest of her own clothing and got back on the bed to unbutton his trousers and slide them off his hips. Soon, he was as naked as she.

She only needed a few spoonfuls of chocolate to decorate his erect phallus like a Christmas tree: a garland of chocolate wound around with little chocolate stars and hearts. Her smug grin as she met his eyes reminded him of the little girl she had been. Severus Snape was very glad she’d grown up.

Her mouth was hot and wet. The pleasure enhancing chocolate made the experience almost too stimulating. He gritted his teeth to keep control. He wasn’t done. He didn’t want it to be over yet. She kept sucking him, licking him, long after she must have removed every trace of the wizarding confection.

“Stop that, and come here now,” Severus demanded. “It’s not going to end like this. I haven’t even tasted your mouth.”

Some unknown wandless magic teleported her. Severus blinked and suddenly she was in his arms again, kissing him as though he were better tasting than the chocolate they had shared. “How would you like it to end, then?” Hermione asked.

Severus pulled her on top of him and she straddled his hips once more. Naked, Hermione reached between them and took him in hand.

“Yes,” he urged her, “do that.”

They met, connected, joined. Severus was not gentle. Neither was Hermione. After several long, mutually satisfying minutes, both groaned with the pleasure of completion. Hermione collapsed on top of her lover.

When she was able to speak again she said, “Wow.”

“Mmm,” Severus replied, breathing deeply to enjoy the smell of the satisfied woman above him. He rolled them onto their sides and drew out of her.

Hermione pulled a couple of tissues from the nightstand. “So, is that how it ends, then?”

“I told you, I have a difficult time sharing.” Severus mopped the sticky dampness between them. “So, I will warn you in advance that it will hurt me very much if you were to date someone else while we’re together.”

He could not read Hermione’s expression. “Are we?”

“Are we what?” Severus asked.

“Together?”

Suddenly uncertain, Severus stared at her elbow. “Would you like to be?”

“The charm on those plates didn’t seem to work so well at dinner. But it did get me something I wanted, even if I didn’t know I wanted it.” Hermione kissed him. “Yes. I think I’d like to be with you.”

“I’m not a very social person,” he warned.

“Neither am I,” Hermione reminded him. “And before you say you’re too old for me, I’ve had no luck with men of my own generation.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Severus cackled. “I have a beautiful young girlfriend and Remus doesn’t.”

Hermione laughed, despite herself, but slapped his shoulder in gentle reproof. “That’s not very nice.”

“I’m not a very nice man,” Severus reminded her.

“No, you’re a very naughty boy,” Hermione observed. “And some day soon I’m going to give you a spanking.”

His eyes lit up. “Promise?”