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First Times: 5x2 (7/10)
Title: First Times: Snape 4, First Impression
Logic dictates there must a first time for every experience. Knowing that doesn't necessarily make it any easier to get through. Severus and Spock each try 5 times. Hermione and Uhura help. (Not in the same fics, obvs,'cause I don't do crossovers.) Lightly humorous responses to an impromptu challenge inspired by an anti-First Times rant.
Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: No one and nothing you recognise belong to me. All Harry Potter characters and concepts belong JK Rowling.
He combed long, pale fingers through the triangle of dark, curling hair.
His wife shuddered.
He hummed his satisfaction.
Mmm. This was a good thing. And even better when she watches!
Almost as if she could hear his thoughts — she couldn’t, Severus was certain; Hermione was a crap Occlumens and had never so much as attempted Legilimency — her lids began to slide down. What she did have, was a penchant for perverseness, picked up from her husband.
No, darling! Don’t close those lovely brown eyes.
Had he spoken aloud? No. He must have whimpered or— no matter. She was staring at him now, eyes unfocussed but open. Yesss. Glazed with ecstasy was brilliant.
Fantastic!
Having got his way for once, Severus returned in earnest to what he’d been doing.
At first, he hadn’t been convinced it could be this good. But in the end — and as was usual in their relationship — he’d been helpless against Hermione’s constant cajoling. Nagging, really.
He really must find a way to regain the upper hand with her. Although, if the results of compliance were this wonderful — and they most often were — well, perhaps an imbalance of power wasn’t such a bad thing.
This really is pleasing, he thought as he furthered his exploration. Surely finding a way to thank her for allowing me to please her wouldn’t make me seem too much her whipping boy?
A long moment passed before he dismissed the idea — Upper hand, man! — because the small part of his brain still capable of functioning whilst in his current state — the one that knew as well as anyone that rewarding his wife’s domineering behaviour (no matter how much he liked what happened when he did as he was told) left him worse than a slave to her pleasures — was only just barely able to get through his suffusion of bliss to bludgeon him into thinking semi-clearly.
Severus idly wondered if a Muggle wife would have been able to so capably confound him. Then, the hairs curling around his fingers caught his attention again and he was lost.
So… beautiful. Thank you, my Hermione, for making me see what a… treasure this is. So… forceful when you want something. Like this…
One finger crept slowly, inexorably slithering, toward the moist slit bisecting the neatly trimmed thatch. His tongue slipped out in anticipation.
“Enough!” Hermione cried.
The finger halted its journey. Severus’s smile faltered, but he quickly recovered it.
“What’s wrong, my dear?’ He moved to nuzzle the soft skin between her neck and shoulder.
She jerked out of reach, her gaze suddenly sharp. “Don’t you come near me,” she snapped. “Not after what you’ve been doing for the last. Ten. Minutes!”
What was she on about? A new game, perhaps? Severus liked the games she liked to play.
“But, I thought you liked it,” he moaned mournfully, hoping he’d got it right.
Folding her arms across her chest, she looked away before replying in a quiet, wounded tone. “That was before I realised you like it more than you like me.”
He nearly laughed. His wife was also a crap actress.
Except, there was no sign of the telltale smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Nimue’s knife! She wasn’t in earnest? Severus felt a familiar fury rise within. Of all the— He needn’t accept her manipulative nonsense!
“What? Hermione, you asked me for it,” he pointedly pointed out. “I never would have attempted this in the first place if you hadn’t ordered me to!”
And if for the briefest of moments he guiltily wondered if her hurt feelings were genuine, he needn’t have bothered; she was right back to righteous indignation before he had time to apologise and begin again.
“I did not ‘order’ you to do anything!” she protested. He half expected her to hex him. “I said it might be nice to try it. Now, it’s all you pay attention to!”
“That is patently untrue, you bossy little—”
“It’s true enough!” She folded her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up quite fetchingly— (he refused to be distracted by that display!) and glared at him belligerently. “There are other things requiring your attention, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“The beard stays, Hermione!” Not waiting for her response to his declaration, he stormed from the washroom, down the hall and into his bedroom.
When she’d first brought up a beard as possible remedy to his dissatisfaction with both his looks and his apparently softer demeanour, his first instinct had been to dismiss it as a daft solution conjured by the romantic imaginings of a silly girl who’d read far too much Blackbeard for her own good. But he’d stopped shaving the next day. Because, since when did he deny his wife — who had grown into anything but a silly little girl — anything at all?
Yet, despite all the itching discomfort of the first weeks, allowing his beard to come in for the first time had been a revelation! It seemed as if some part of him that had gone missing on the filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack had found its way back through the hairs sprouting from his face. He felt strong, imposing, intimidating when he looked in the mirror.
It also didn’t hurt that the silky curls drew observers’ eyes from the shape and length of his nose.
Merlin’s beard! Severus had never imagined their first fight would be over something so silly as his ownbeard! Of course, she’d never before demanded anything of him he hadn’t been willing to give. Or give up, as it were.
“Not this time,” he muttered darkly as he plumped his pillow. Crawling under the duvet, he turned on his side. “Now I’ve got my—” What was it that ridiculous spy in that even more ridiculous film had called it? Mojo. “Now, I’ve got my mojo” Severus savoured the way the word rolled from his tongue “back, I shan’t be relinquishing it again. Not even for her!”
Unconsciously, he reached for the triangle of hair that was source of his newly rediscovered confidence. Manliness. A smirk curled his lips as his fingers groomed the unruly curls covering his cheeks and chin.
Probably jealous that mine are more manageable than hers, he told himself. The idea delighted him immensely and he began to chuckle.
His muffled laughter covered the even quieter sound of bare feet softly padding across the bare wood floor. It wasn’t until he felt the mattress dip under her weight that he became aware of her presence.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sounding truly contrite.
He turned to his other side to better observe the slight figure perched on the edge of the bed.
“It really is a lovely beard,” she went on, sounding a bit breathless.
Severus only grunted. No need to forgive her easily when making her work for it could yield more desirable results.
Hermione reached out to touch his face, her fingers twining in the dark hair.
“I could cut it off,” he offered, feigning reluctant acquiescence. He’d only just remembered how amusing it could be when he was the one serving out the perverse responses.
“No!”
He widened his eyes, trying (and succeeding quite nicely, if her reaction of any indication) to look alarmed and unsure.
“I-I mean, you shouldn’t do it for... for me,” she explained, stammering a bit. “Because I do like the way it feels against my skin. Only… only I prefer to feel it against my skin to watching you groom it.”
That was all he needed to hear.
Next chapter
Snape's next first
1 of 10
2 of 10
3 of 10
4 of 10
5 of 10
6 of 10
Logic dictates there must a first time for every experience. Knowing that doesn't necessarily make it any easier to get through. Severus and Spock each try 5 times. Hermione and Uhura help. (Not in the same fics, obvs,'cause I don't do crossovers.) Lightly humorous responses to an impromptu challenge inspired by an anti-First Times rant.
Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: No one and nothing you recognise belong to me. All Harry Potter characters and concepts belong JK Rowling.
He combed long, pale fingers through the triangle of dark, curling hair.
His wife shuddered.
He hummed his satisfaction.
Mmm. This was a good thing. And even better when she watches!
Almost as if she could hear his thoughts — she couldn’t, Severus was certain; Hermione was a crap Occlumens and had never so much as attempted Legilimency — her lids began to slide down. What she did have, was a penchant for perverseness, picked up from her husband.
No, darling! Don’t close those lovely brown eyes.
Had he spoken aloud? No. He must have whimpered or— no matter. She was staring at him now, eyes unfocussed but open. Yesss. Glazed with ecstasy was brilliant.
Fantastic!
Having got his way for once, Severus returned in earnest to what he’d been doing.
At first, he hadn’t been convinced it could be this good. But in the end — and as was usual in their relationship — he’d been helpless against Hermione’s constant cajoling. Nagging, really.
He really must find a way to regain the upper hand with her. Although, if the results of compliance were this wonderful — and they most often were — well, perhaps an imbalance of power wasn’t such a bad thing.
This really is pleasing, he thought as he furthered his exploration. Surely finding a way to thank her for allowing me to please her wouldn’t make me seem too much her whipping boy?
A long moment passed before he dismissed the idea — Upper hand, man! — because the small part of his brain still capable of functioning whilst in his current state — the one that knew as well as anyone that rewarding his wife’s domineering behaviour (no matter how much he liked what happened when he did as he was told) left him worse than a slave to her pleasures — was only just barely able to get through his suffusion of bliss to bludgeon him into thinking semi-clearly.
Severus idly wondered if a Muggle wife would have been able to so capably confound him. Then, the hairs curling around his fingers caught his attention again and he was lost.
So… beautiful. Thank you, my Hermione, for making me see what a… treasure this is. So… forceful when you want something. Like this…
One finger crept slowly, inexorably slithering, toward the moist slit bisecting the neatly trimmed thatch. His tongue slipped out in anticipation.
“Enough!” Hermione cried.
The finger halted its journey. Severus’s smile faltered, but he quickly recovered it.
“What’s wrong, my dear?’ He moved to nuzzle the soft skin between her neck and shoulder.
She jerked out of reach, her gaze suddenly sharp. “Don’t you come near me,” she snapped. “Not after what you’ve been doing for the last. Ten. Minutes!”
What was she on about? A new game, perhaps? Severus liked the games she liked to play.
“But, I thought you liked it,” he moaned mournfully, hoping he’d got it right.
Folding her arms across her chest, she looked away before replying in a quiet, wounded tone. “That was before I realised you like it more than you like me.”
He nearly laughed. His wife was also a crap actress.
Except, there was no sign of the telltale smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Nimue’s knife! She wasn’t in earnest? Severus felt a familiar fury rise within. Of all the— He needn’t accept her manipulative nonsense!
“What? Hermione, you asked me for it,” he pointedly pointed out. “I never would have attempted this in the first place if you hadn’t ordered me to!”
And if for the briefest of moments he guiltily wondered if her hurt feelings were genuine, he needn’t have bothered; she was right back to righteous indignation before he had time to apologise and begin again.
“I did not ‘order’ you to do anything!” she protested. He half expected her to hex him. “I said it might be nice to try it. Now, it’s all you pay attention to!”
“That is patently untrue, you bossy little—”
“It’s true enough!” She folded her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up quite fetchingly— (he refused to be distracted by that display!) and glared at him belligerently. “There are other things requiring your attention, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“The beard stays, Hermione!” Not waiting for her response to his declaration, he stormed from the washroom, down the hall and into his bedroom.
When she’d first brought up a beard as possible remedy to his dissatisfaction with both his looks and his apparently softer demeanour, his first instinct had been to dismiss it as a daft solution conjured by the romantic imaginings of a silly girl who’d read far too much Blackbeard for her own good. But he’d stopped shaving the next day. Because, since when did he deny his wife — who had grown into anything but a silly little girl — anything at all?
Yet, despite all the itching discomfort of the first weeks, allowing his beard to come in for the first time had been a revelation! It seemed as if some part of him that had gone missing on the filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack had found its way back through the hairs sprouting from his face. He felt strong, imposing, intimidating when he looked in the mirror.
It also didn’t hurt that the silky curls drew observers’ eyes from the shape and length of his nose.
Merlin’s beard! Severus had never imagined their first fight would be over something so silly as his ownbeard! Of course, she’d never before demanded anything of him he hadn’t been willing to give. Or give up, as it were.
“Not this time,” he muttered darkly as he plumped his pillow. Crawling under the duvet, he turned on his side. “Now I’ve got my—” What was it that ridiculous spy in that even more ridiculous film had called it? Mojo. “Now, I’ve got my mojo” Severus savoured the way the word rolled from his tongue “back, I shan’t be relinquishing it again. Not even for her!”
Unconsciously, he reached for the triangle of hair that was source of his newly rediscovered confidence. Manliness. A smirk curled his lips as his fingers groomed the unruly curls covering his cheeks and chin.
Probably jealous that mine are more manageable than hers, he told himself. The idea delighted him immensely and he began to chuckle.
His muffled laughter covered the even quieter sound of bare feet softly padding across the bare wood floor. It wasn’t until he felt the mattress dip under her weight that he became aware of her presence.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sounding truly contrite.
He turned to his other side to better observe the slight figure perched on the edge of the bed.
“It really is a lovely beard,” she went on, sounding a bit breathless.
Severus only grunted. No need to forgive her easily when making her work for it could yield more desirable results.
Hermione reached out to touch his face, her fingers twining in the dark hair.
“I could cut it off,” he offered, feigning reluctant acquiescence. He’d only just remembered how amusing it could be when he was the one serving out the perverse responses.
“No!”
He widened his eyes, trying (and succeeding quite nicely, if her reaction of any indication) to look alarmed and unsure.
“I-I mean, you shouldn’t do it for... for me,” she explained, stammering a bit. “Because I do like the way it feels against my skin. Only… only I prefer to feel it against my skin to watching you groom it.”
That was all he needed to hear.
Next chapter
Snape's next first
1 of 10
2 of 10
3 of 10
4 of 10
5 of 10
6 of 10