Yeah, alright, this drabble series doesn’t actually have those words in it. I’m feeling very subversive right now!
Title: His Mistress Is…
Challenge: Inanimate Object
Team: Death Eaters
Length: 5 X 100
Warning: Shoe Pron
Summary: She walked into the room, one hip at a time…
A HUGE thank you to Patricia D for her awesome illustration of this drabble…
Some lovers will tell you the moment they looked into one another’s eyes, they knew. Severus Snape did not believe in what was called Love At First Sight, but he did believe in Lust At First Glance.
Who would have thought Severus Snape so vulnerable to the charms of Hermione Granger? Indeed, he’d never really given her that much thought. That is, until the night he saw her at the Anniversary Ball, five years after The-Boy-Who-Lived-Out-Of-Sheer-Dumb-Bastard-Luck had defeated the Dark – erm, Tom Riddle.
Severus had quietly re-entered the Wizarding world two years before, hoping to keep a low profile. Bollocks.
The Ball was in full swing, and Pomona Sprout, of all witches, asked him to dance. Severus was just about to plead an amputated foot when in strutted the most gorgeous pair of legs he’d ever seen. From his vantage point in the back, he saw them, striding confidently into the room, on the most gravity-defying heels he’d ever witnessed. Candy Apple Red. His heart stopped. Red stilettos; his secret weakness.
“Who the fuck is that?” he breathed, offending Pomona and getting rid of her at the same time. Result. Unfortunately, she left in a huff before answering his question.
He was still shy and awkward enough not to stalk up and introduce himself, but he managed to stroll casually around the hall, trying to draw a bead on those stilettos. They were carrying the sexiest pins in Wizarding Britain. As he looked around, his initial enthusiasm waned. She may have the body of a goddess, but he was convinced she was probably going to have the face of Voldemort’s great-granny. Not, he thought, that you have much room to talk, Severus.
He was about to give up, when a gentle hand alighted on his arm. “Professor Snape?” He turned.
She forever teased him about that moment; when he turned around, looked her up and down and blurted, “Merlin’s arseplug! Hermione Granger?”
She tilted her head; her cheeky little grin made him break out in a cold sweat. She was made for sinning, alright – a grown-up, curvy body perched atop red leather stilettos. More brains than the rest of the party-goers put together. In that moment, he knew he was going to make a fool of himself, and he might as well start now. “You’re-you’re not how I remember-“
She took his hand. “You had me at Merlin’s arseplug, Professor.”
He didn’t remember what they talked about as they danced, but he remembered her address. He was there the next day. Three weeks later, after twelve dates, eight home-cooked meals and ten trips to Spinner’s End, she moved in.
Severus had always thought of himself as a decent lover; with Hermione, he really started expanding his repertoire, using his imagination. Hermione was insatiable, dirty, delicious, and possessive. Their first night together, Severus tied her up and masturbated her with one of those red leather heels. She made him lick it clean after he was done. They took turns being on top.
She’s a bossy little witch, you know. Not in public; she is very respectful and only lightly teasing. Enough to let you know that he’s her wizard and “you girls can just fuck off, he’s mine, thank you very much”. He’s secretly delighted. That’s why he married her.
At home, it’s another matter. She wears corsets, and says the filthiest things when he fucks her. No matter what his mood, when she struts across the floor in those red leather heels, oh yes, he drops what he’s doing and gets on his knees.
Her red stilettos are his kryptonite.