May I?
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
4,368
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
4,368
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter. I do not make any money from writing these stories.
May I?
Author's Notes: While watching Mad Men, this strange interaction between Snape and Hermione crossed my mind. I don't even know if I like it, it just needed to be written. UST with a HG/RW pairing. And I cannot believe I just wrote that.
Hermione was aware of those eyes from clear across the room. Her cheeks burned to such an extent she had never experienced, not even during intimacy. Able to blame her obvious flush on her condition, Hermione closed her eyes at the firm kiss upon cheek, willing herself to bask in her husband’s usual attentiveness.
She braced her hand upon her swollen stomach, and reminded herself how ridiculous her she was acting.
She’d just never had such… adulterous… thoughts before.
In situations like this, normally such scandalous acts would occur when said flirtatious parties caught the other mid-stare, both guilty of licentious intentions.
However, that was very far from the case tonight.
Hermione carefully leaned towards the table, mindful of her belly as she reached for her glass of ice-water. Forcing a wide smile, she turned her attention to the front stage, knowing that any moment the speaker would call Ron to announce his acceptance in the Auror Office.
And yet, her vision kept drifting across the room.
She couldn’t breathe.
Without fail, whenever she gazed at that man, his eyes were already trained on her.
But it wasn’t a lustful or wanton gaze that flustered her so. In fact, she had to wonder if the wizard even recognized her.
Hermione was overcome with the sudden realization that she had never spoken openly with this man. Never once in her memory had they shared a casual interaction or conversation in the midst of maintaining eye contact.
Now, more than ever, she wished he’d look at her—and not her very pregnant belly.
“How far along?”
“Eight months,” Hermione replied automatically in a pleasant tone. The stranger had asked her backside this question, and by the time she turned around, smile wide and eager, she still hadn’t comprehended who had just spoken.
Professor Snape loomed over her, and uncomfortably so.
Her breath stalled--not because he was standing there, speaking to her for the first time of his own accord, but because his vision was still trained below her neck.
Sending one wary glace at the lavatory door, Hermione said, “Professor…?”
He stepped a bit closer, his hand extracting itself from within his robes. Arm confidently reaching out, Snape finally lifted his chin to gaze at his former pupil with intensity.
“May I?”
Hermione eyed his elegant hand, inches from her belly, and swallowed. She looked over her shoulder towards the loo, ensuring that no one was about to bust out.
Her exhale carried the word, “Yes.”
Movements confident, Professor Snape placed the cup of his palm at the highest point of the swell. Conscious of his warmth through her robes, Hermione breathed in deep, pushing the underside of her bust closer to his hand.
“Good day, Professor,” Hermione said, thoroughly embarrassed. Hermione attempted to part with a smile and a pleasing tone. However, Snape pointedly ignored her hint.
His hand quickly moved to the side of her stomach, in the direction she’d intended to leave, and held her in place. Following the movement, he dared the push aside the folds of her cloak, trailing her round stomach further and further down.
Hermione was too stunned, too shocked to do or say anything. She couldn’t believe what he was attempting to do—what was he trying to do?
Intense, overwhelming heat burned from deep within her chest and followed Professor Snape’s ever roaming hand. When those purposeful, agile fingers reached directly under her belly and dead center, Hermione inhaled sharply and grasped his arm to steady herself.
The bathroom door flew open, carrying with it the idle chatter of intoxicated witches. Aware of the chill in the air, Hermione turned around only to see the sight of Professor Snape’s backside, billowing in the direction of the exit.
End
Hermione was aware of those eyes from clear across the room. Her cheeks burned to such an extent she had never experienced, not even during intimacy. Able to blame her obvious flush on her condition, Hermione closed her eyes at the firm kiss upon cheek, willing herself to bask in her husband’s usual attentiveness.
She braced her hand upon her swollen stomach, and reminded herself how ridiculous her she was acting.
She’d just never had such… adulterous… thoughts before.
In situations like this, normally such scandalous acts would occur when said flirtatious parties caught the other mid-stare, both guilty of licentious intentions.
However, that was very far from the case tonight.
Hermione carefully leaned towards the table, mindful of her belly as she reached for her glass of ice-water. Forcing a wide smile, she turned her attention to the front stage, knowing that any moment the speaker would call Ron to announce his acceptance in the Auror Office.
And yet, her vision kept drifting across the room.
She couldn’t breathe.
Without fail, whenever she gazed at that man, his eyes were already trained on her.
But it wasn’t a lustful or wanton gaze that flustered her so. In fact, she had to wonder if the wizard even recognized her.
Hermione was overcome with the sudden realization that she had never spoken openly with this man. Never once in her memory had they shared a casual interaction or conversation in the midst of maintaining eye contact.
Now, more than ever, she wished he’d look at her—and not her very pregnant belly.
“How far along?”
“Eight months,” Hermione replied automatically in a pleasant tone. The stranger had asked her backside this question, and by the time she turned around, smile wide and eager, she still hadn’t comprehended who had just spoken.
Professor Snape loomed over her, and uncomfortably so.
Her breath stalled--not because he was standing there, speaking to her for the first time of his own accord, but because his vision was still trained below her neck.
Sending one wary glace at the lavatory door, Hermione said, “Professor…?”
He stepped a bit closer, his hand extracting itself from within his robes. Arm confidently reaching out, Snape finally lifted his chin to gaze at his former pupil with intensity.
“May I?”
Hermione eyed his elegant hand, inches from her belly, and swallowed. She looked over her shoulder towards the loo, ensuring that no one was about to bust out.
Her exhale carried the word, “Yes.”
Movements confident, Professor Snape placed the cup of his palm at the highest point of the swell. Conscious of his warmth through her robes, Hermione breathed in deep, pushing the underside of her bust closer to his hand.
“Good day, Professor,” Hermione said, thoroughly embarrassed. Hermione attempted to part with a smile and a pleasing tone. However, Snape pointedly ignored her hint.
His hand quickly moved to the side of her stomach, in the direction she’d intended to leave, and held her in place. Following the movement, he dared the push aside the folds of her cloak, trailing her round stomach further and further down.
Hermione was too stunned, too shocked to do or say anything. She couldn’t believe what he was attempting to do—what was he trying to do?
Intense, overwhelming heat burned from deep within her chest and followed Professor Snape’s ever roaming hand. When those purposeful, agile fingers reached directly under her belly and dead center, Hermione inhaled sharply and grasped his arm to steady herself.
The bathroom door flew open, carrying with it the idle chatter of intoxicated witches. Aware of the chill in the air, Hermione turned around only to see the sight of Professor Snape’s backside, billowing in the direction of the exit.