A/N~ This is a fluffy little two chapter PWP (Sort of? Does taking the piss out certain literary characters and tropes with a wink and hug count as plot? You can decide...) that I wrote for the 2019 Snape Showcase over on LJ. The fest was put on by the always wonderful Iulia Linnea and featured some really brilliant creations in both art and fic. Do go check it out and leave the other creators some love! Q_Drew acted as beta extraordinaire for this piece; any remaining errors are very much mine.

Having recently unpacked my childhood library, I stumbled across several books that had proved to be highly informative about certain... adult matters in my youth (fanfic not being around in the stone ages). This story is a homage to the books that can be found on *that* shelf, as well as a reflection about the true nature of courage.

As always, comments, concrit, and peanut gallery thoughts are encouraged!

Shutting the door to his private quarters with a sigh of relief, Severus Snape began to unbutton his frock coat as he made for the bedroom. It had been an utterly shite day, and he was very much pleased to see the end of it. Perhaps I can trade my evening rounds out with Filius. I don't particularly want to go back out in an hour, and I'm bound to take off some student's head if I do… he started to think tiredly, and then came to an abrupt stop at the entirely unexpected sight that greeted him.

"Professor Granger," he inquired silkily, hand pausing on the third button, "is there any particular reason why you are lying naked in my bed fingering yourself?"

Hermione Granger, Professor of Muggle Studies, Order of Merlin (First Class) lay face down on the coverlet of the massive four-poster. A pool of warm late-afternoon sunlight illuminated her, the cream of her bare curves turned golden and the tumble of lush curls trailing down her back glowing with a dozen different hues of brown. She was lost deep into a book—as well as herself—and in a pose caught somewhere between Botticelli and wanton bibliophile. Both his cock and his heart gave a little lurch at the surreal scene.

Lazily, she glanced up and stretched. His dark gaze avidly observed the graceful flex of muscle all the way down the line of her body as she placed a bookmark into the thick tome, closed it carefully, and put it on the bed stand. "I assume you heard about my classroom incident involving the third-year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors taking turns hurling about the slug-vomiting charm?"

"Mmmm," he acknowledged, drifting closer.

"Having spent the better part of two hours covered in slug slime and vomit, I decided that a hot shower was in order, followed by a good long soak." As he approached the bed, she pushed herself up, the movement revealing the perfect blancmange rounds of her breasts, nipples hard and red as cherries. His mouth began to water. "Then I decided that the daylight felt quite nice on my skin and I ended up here in front of the fire to dry off."

This close, Severus could smell her; the faint whiff of coconut conditioner used to tame her hair, the vanilla spice of her lotion, both fragrances deepening into a subtle, darker scent as they mingled with the natural perfume of her skin. She shifted again and a third scent—the musk of her desire—drifted upwards in the sun-soaked air.

"And so having cleansed yourself, you decided to read a naughty book in the nude… on my bed," he repeated gravely, flipping the book over to examine the cover. It was a Muggle book, but instead of the bodice ripper he was expecting, a blonde woman in an odd fur wrap was pensively staring off into a snowy mountain range. The Valley of the Horses, he read silently and looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

Hermione's mouth curled into a teasing smile at his tone. "On our bed, and yes, that about sums the situation up," she said and rolled over onto her back, glorious body bared to him unashamedly. It was as blatant of an invitation as he'd ever received, and one that nearly unmanned him.

Love, lust, and gratitude, as well as about twenty other emotions flooded him. Clearly, Hermione had heard about the trials of his day and was seeking to provide redress in the best possible fashion. I can touch her all I want, Severus marvelled as he stared down at the sensual feast spread out before him. She's mine. And she wants me just as much as I want her… He slowly exhaled, letting the overwhelming sentiments wash over him. Humbled by the gesture—her day had been no better, he knew—he placed a hand on the warmth of his wife's upper thigh, the gold gleam of his wedding band contrasting strongly against the white pallor of his skin. Seeing the tumult in his expression, Hermione laid her hand on top of his in mute comfort, a slight metallic clink coming as their rings collided.

For the most part, Severus could ignore the ghoulish spectres of his past and concentrate on the present. But there were days when all of the good that had come to him in the last decade seemed unreal and the future desperately fragile, especially contrasted against the solitary misery of his life before; there were days when his struggles to combat hate seemed utterly futile, ugliness inevitably cropping up like a many-headed hydra.

And then there was the war to master his own insecurities and self-protective instincts: moreover, Severus had spent too many decades living alone to truly be comfortable with constant cohabitation. Despite the obvious advantages, he often felt as vulnerable and exposed as a newborn babe by the risks he was taking in loving Hermione so freely. If this falls apart… but it won't. She loves me. Hermione chose me just as I chose her.

Oddly, falling in love with Hermione upon her return to Hogwarts had not been terribly difficult. Accepting her love and letting himself be loved in return had been the real battle—one that raged on internally for months during their courtship. If he was being brutally honest with himself, it still did. Even three years into marriage, Severus still occasionally found himself dangerously out of his depths.

On nights like this, however… I can only be deeply thankful for having won her love.

"I missed you this morning," Hermione murmured, all lasciviousness gone, having not failed to detect the change in his mood.

"You appeared to need your sleep."

"That consideration was appreciated, but I prefer waking up earlier with you than later and all alone."

"I will keep that in mind."

She squeezed his hand. "You do that."

He cleared his throat, unwilling to forgo the seduction that Hermione had set up for the both of them merely because he was feeling a tad unsteady on his feet. After all, she made the effort, and the least I can do is match it. "And just what licentiousness are we reading about today?"

Dimples flashed charmingly. "Less licentiousness than you'd think. This is the second book in a series. The first is called The Clan of the Cave Bear, and it follows the childhood of a brilliant Cro-Magon girl raised by Neanderthals named Ayla who asks too many uncomfortable questions, rebels against the crippling societal norms that imprison her, and is eventually banished from her adopted tribe—"

"Nothing to connect with there," Severus interrupted, sotto voce.

"—but in this book, Ayla is forced to make her own way alone on the dangerous and harsh ice-age plains, and in doing so, becomes the first to domesticate animals, creates the bra as well as sewing needles, the travois, is a medicine woman, and becomes an expert flintknapper and hunter despite it going against all gender norms for her to do so."

Severus resisted rolling his eyes at the lengthy description. Some things never change. "You would find all that rot titillating. Still, sounds dreadfully dull, being all alone by oneself."

"Rampant Mary-Sue'ing aside, she manages. Eventually, a dumb blonde with a magnificent cock comes into her life to spice things up."

He made a moue of distaste. "Blonde? How… trite."

"Yes, well, no book is perfect. He does have the benefit of awakening her yoni, however." A leer resurfaced as she parted her legs in obvious invitation and demand.

"It wasn't awoken before?" Severus asked with mock disbelief, fingers stroking the silk of her skin as they moved up her inner thigh. "She could create a travois but not a dildo?"

Hermione laughed, breasts bouncing in a manner most distracting. God, but I love her! "The poor dear led a rather unfortunate existence until she left the Neanderthals, so she hadn't discovered the joys of masturbation yet. Just lots of laying back and thinking about merry old ice-age Europe as a literal Neanderthal did the rumpy-pumpy above her."

"Poor thing," he agreed dolefully. "I suppose she was due one good shag then, even if she had to make do with a blonde. Did she have any other lovers at least?"

"In the next book. They get tired of shagging in her cave and go out searching for other people."

"Other cocks, you mean."

"Something like that. Ayla ends up terribly confused and horny when she meets her first black man and then accidentally shags him after getting drunk."

"A very common occurrence, accidental shagging… and what of her dumb blonde?"

"Eaten alive by jealousy, of course. But they eventually reconcile because she decides that she can't live without Jondalar's amazing shaft of glory." Her clever fingers slipped from his and began to caress the bulging front of his trousers. Snape's own shaft of glory heartily approved.

"I don't suppose there is a threesome?"

"No, and more's the pity. Alas, the only spit-roasting going on in these books are the hunks of fresh mammoth cooking over the fire."

"Hmmmm," he rumbled, removing his hand to continue unbuttoning his coat. "Tell me more about awaking her yoni."

"I'm so glad that you asked," she began facetiously. "You see, Jondalar's throbbing manhood is so large that he can't fit it in most women's moist channels of pleasure. I'm sure that you can identify with that particular issue… Anyway, as a result of this difficulty, our blonde cock became quite the expert at cunnilingus to better maximise his chance of sticking it all the way in. He travelled all over Europe polishing his skills, as a matter of fact."

Shucking off his frock coat and tossing it carelessly onto a chair, Severus mounted the bed, straddling Hermione. Staying on his knees, he loomed above her. "Sounds more like he found a racket for polishing his knob, not his improving skills. If he was only bent on improvement, he'd leave his cock out of it entirely."

"Jealous?"

"Of a ridiculously named fictional character? Hardly. I don't need all the women of Europe to practice on when I have you in my bed." Leisurely, he ran his fingertips over the flare of her hip and then along the outside curve of one plump breast. Her breathing deepened at the contact, a flush spreading across her chest. He adored how responsive she was. "What will you have me do, Hermione?"

Her eyes were a fathomless amber, the affection and attraction in them was strong enough to take his own breath away. "Pleasure me. Pleasure yourself."

Severus' mouth twisted with humour. "Shall I pretend to be a caveman, darling? I'm happy to grunt a lot if that's what you need."

"No. Just be you." Another rich laugh.

"As you command." Dropping down, he pressed light kisses along the delicate line of her collarbone. She shivered, the hard points of her breasts grazing his shirt. Severus let his weight rest upon Hermione for a long moment, knowing that she enjoyed the sensation of his clothes against her naked body.

Rising to his elbows at last, he slid his hand to her stomach, and then down even further until he reached the humid heat of her core. Severus eased two fingers into her. Hermione was delightfully wet; obviously, she been at it for a while. Her provisional groundwork met with his eager approval; there was something to said for falling in love with a swot who found preparatory lists dead sexy.

Hermione's breath hitched as he lightly fingered her, slim hips arching to prolong the contact. Keeping at it for a long, breathless minute, he let the anticipation stretch out. Holding her gaze, Severus slowly brought his hand up so they could both see the gleam of her desire that lay slickly upon his fingers. Deliberately, he lapped them clean, savouring her taste.

"Severus…" she panted and yanked his head down for a rough, musk-flavoured kiss.

Desire exploded between them, all pretence of teasing over. Hermione's mouth opened to his greedily, lips seeking him even as her hands pulled his shirt from the waistband. Groaning at the feeling of her nails lightly scraping across his back, Severus ground his wool-covered erection into her undulating centre. Remembering her words, he let his mouth drop from hers and worked down the succulent length of her neck. She tasted wonderfully of salt and skin. He nipped hard, pausing to watch a red mark bloom over porcelain with masculine satisfaction.

"You bloody vampire," she said with a low laugh, and then pushed his head to her heaving breasts.

Severus gladly took the hint, tracing the satiny skin of her tit with his tongue before finally taking the nipple in his mouth and suckling deeply. She moaned loudly, the sound pushing him on further.

"Shall I make you scream?" he growled, staring up between the valley of her breasts with a wolfish smile. This wouldn't be a languid loving, he knew, but rather something far more feral to banish the tensions of the day.

Hermione bit her lip, fingers fisting in his hair. "Yes. Now!"

Still smiling, Severus trailed his mouth down her body, nipping and kissing the sensitive flesh as he went. The smell of her—sweet, and heavy with desire—filled his nose, and he inhaled deeply with pleasure. "I love you," he told her, purposely catching her eyes as said it. But rather than waiting for a response, he dropped his mouth to her mound; her fingers finally loosened from his scalp, the movement turning into a caress as he flicked and sucked her clit with relish.

Using one arm to pin Hermione's hips down, Severus buried his nose again, revelling in the sheer intimate physicality of the moment. Heat radiated from Hermione's quaking body, and his fingers were making satisfyingly vulgar noises as he pushed into her. It was pure, succulent bliss. Vaguely, he realised that he was humping the bed with the same rhythm as his thrusting hand. As a result, he was a hell of a lot closer to coming than he'd anticipated. Must hurry things along, he thought regretfully, balls aching fiercely.

Redoubling his efforts, he used his thumb to start stroking her arsehole; Hermione flexed her bum in appreciation. Pressing his thumb deeper, he sucked hard on her clit and she wailed, thighs beginning to stutter around his head. "Just like that, darling," he panted encouragingly, fingers flying in an increased onslaught of wetness.

With a proper scream, Hermione climaxed. Jerking himself up from the bed as soon as she stopped shaking, Severus hurriedly yanked himself free of the rest of his clothes, finally magicking off his boots when they proved too difficult for his trembling hands.

"Hermione," he called, voice cracking as he gazed at her spread so wantonly open in front of him. "I can't… I need…"

Opening her eyes, she smiled up at him with a flushed face and glazed expression. "Rough. I want it rough."

He swallowed thickly, humbled once more that she could not only read him so well, but sought to please him above anything else. In a flash, he was kneeling between her sticky thighs, cock in hand and heart racing. Hermione's lush lips made a perfect 'o' as he drove into her. Severus loved seeing that expression on her face; it made him feel like a god, and buried in her luscious body as she moaned around him, he would dare anyone to say that he wasn't.

They both groaned as he increased his pace, and Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips tightly, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Oh, fuck me," he gasped as she contracted hard around him.

He felt her chuckle once more. "I'm trying, love…"

Buring his head in the curve between her shoulder and neck, Severus squeezed her hips harder and concentrated on the sublime feeling of fucking his wife. The intensity was too much, and with a muffled roar, he let go of every thought but her.