FIC: The Shape of You
Sep. 5th, 2017 10:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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sshg_smutTitle: The Shape of You
Author: Anonymous for now
Summary: Hermoine’s friends think she needs a little more pleasure in her life, and suggest the best place to purchase just the thing to help her. There are only two problems: not only does the shoppe owner seem somewhat familiar, but Hermione gets rather attached to her newest form of entertainment.
Prompter:melodylepetit
Prompt: 52. After the Final Battle Severus retired from teaching and launched a line of sex toys. Hermione is desperate to find the wizard that her favourite dildo was molded from.
Warnings/Content: Rated Explicit/NC-17
Read on AO3 / Read on Livejournal
“Hermione, you know her. She’s always early. I’m sure she’s here already, which is why she didn’t answer your Floo-call.”
“I just don’t want her to think we left without her. I’d hate it if she thought we forgot her.”
“She wouldn’t think that.”
“She might.”
Hermione and Ginny tried to peer through the late Saturday night throng of smoke and press of bodies at the Wanton Wizard; they finally located Luna, alone in a large booth near the far corner.
“Hello, Ginny…Hermione.” Luna turned from surveying the crowd and gifted them a hazy smile.
“How are you, Luna?” Hermione asked.
“I am well. I ordered us all a round of Butterbeer.” She cocked her head as she studied Ginny’s face. “You look so happy, Ginny. How’s Blaise?”
“Getting better every day.” Ginny winked as she dropped into the booth.
The server appeared with their drinks.
Hermione grabbed her Butterbeer and took a sip. “What do you mean, ‘getting better’? Has he been sick?” she asked, licking the foam from her top lip.
Ginny laughed. “Not exactly. He’s a sick fuck, but not that kind of sick.” She took a swallow of her drink and pursed her lips flirtingly. “He’s been getting better in bed. Not that he was ever lacking there.”
“Not that he was ever lacking there,” Luna echoed.
“He’s gotten soooo good at—“
“Stop!” Hermione said, raising her hand. Once introduced to even the tiniest bit of alcohol, the few filters that still functioned within Ginny Weasley ceased working.
“Actually, he’s gotten good at not stopping.”
“Don’t—” Hermione pleaded.
“I usually say that right before the word ‘stop’,” Ginny quipped and took another swallow of her Butterbeer, rewarding Hermione’s discomfort with a toothy smile.
Luna leaned forward, putting both elbows on the table, and folding her hands under her chin. Her eyes widened rapturously. “I can’t remember how many times I’ve told Blaise not to stop…” she said dreamily.
“I know exactly what you mean. Did you know he could—“
“Ginny, please. Please!” Hermione begged.
Ginny ignored her. “Merlin, especially when he takes his tongue and—“
“No, no, no, no! That’s it!” She pointed at Ginny. “You can’t possibly think that I want hear about what Blaise does to you.” She aimed her finger at Luna. “…and what Blaise used to do to you.” Leaning forward, Hermione continued, “Are you two mad? And aren’t you the least bit jealous of each other?”
Ginny and Luna looked at each other. Ginny shrugged. Luna smiled more widely.
“No,” they said at the same time.
Luna leaned toward Hermione. “You need a shag. A thorough one,” she said in an exceptionally serious tone.
“Eh, do you see a ring? A boyfriend? Any interested party at all?” Hermione huffed. “Do you guys have any idea how hard it is out there?”
“Oh, I know exactly how hard it is out there,” Ginny said, wagging her eyebrows.
“Good Lord,” Hermione said. “It’s not as though you can say Accio Soulmate and someone just appears.”
“Granger.” The confident tones of Draco Malfoy reached Hermione’s ear over Ginny snorting into her Butterbeer. “Imagine seeing you here.”
Harry and Draco approached the table hand in hand, sweaty and obviously inebriated.
“Whatcha guys doing?” Harry asked, glasses askew, leaning into Draco.
“Were discussing Hermione’s sex life,” Luna said nonchalantly. “Rather, her potential sex life.”
“This should be good,” Draco said, worming his way into the booth. Harry snuggled in next to him.
Hermione shook her head. “We are so not doing this.”
“Why not? Apparently no one is doing you,” Draco said.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on, Hermione. You could use all the help you can get,” Ginny said. “These two could give you some great advice…”
Hermione put her head in her hands.
“I have a suggestion.” Luna opened her eyes wider and, once again, cocked her head to the side. “You need to go to the new shop in Knockturn Alley,” she said, pausing to take a tiny sip of her Butterbeer. “That’s where Ginny purchased the strap on,” she continued innocently, “and that’s where I got this.”
In one quick motion, Luna unzipped her purse, pulled out a neon pink dildo, and set it on the table in front of her. It lit up and began to hum.
Hermione spit out her Butterbeer.
“Niiiiice,” Draco said, picking it up and handing it to Harry, who tried to whistle and failed. He slumped further into Draco’s side and nuzzled his shirt contentedly.
Luna smiled. “You just need some sex. And you don’t need a boyfriend for that.”
Hermione wound her fingers around her morning tea, enjoying its warmth. Despite Ginny’s endless commentary on Blaise’s bedroom accomplishments—and Luna’s reckless discussions of escapades featuring her favorite dildo—she’d managed to have a good time the night before.
She smiled and returned to the leather bound book in her lap. It had taken her years—as well as several letters of recommendation from exactly the right people—but she had finally earned the right to borrow from the Hogwarts Library’s Restricted Section.
Hermione glanced up. The daily owl soared in through the open kitchen window and dropped the day’s Prophet on her lap. As she unfolded it, her smile evaporated. The feature article described Ron’s trip the States in gruesome detail, including the measurements of every female companion he’d escorted to his hotel room. Apparently, speculation on the Wizarding World’s favourite bachelor had achieved new heights since Harry had been taken off the market by Draco.
Hermione tossed the paper down and tried to banish her ex-boyfriend from of her mind. “What the hell, Crookshanks? Why couldn’t there have been a bank robbery?”
The half-kneazle twitched his tail in agreement.
In response, Pig began bouncing in his cage.
Hermione sighed. Why had she agreed to take care of Ron’s bird?
Because it was too painful for Harry to be near an owl. Because she was nice.
Right.
She was caring for the ridiculous ping pong ball while Ron was seeding the larger half of North America. Or perhaps—based on the measurements listed in today’s Prophet—just the more voluptuous half.
Fucking insane. That was what was wrong with her, she was perfectly, blissfully insane.
“Oh, bugger it all!”
She grabbed the paper and flipped it open again with a thwack.
A half-page promotion spread out before her like a sick epilogue to the article showcasing Ron’s exploits.
Severlish’s Tempting Trifles
Explore our luscious line of toys that can be magically customized just for you. Come in for a one-on-one personal—and confidential—consultation. Satisfaction always guaranteed.
31 Knockturn Alley Tues – Sat 10 AM to 9PM, or by appointment
Well, if it wasn’t an advert from Luna and Ginny’s new favorite shoppe. A sign from the wizarding gods of sex, to be sure.
Maybe Ginny and Luna were right. Maybe she needed more pleasure in her life. It might just give her more…confidence with her own body.
And although confidence wouldn’t help her find a boyfriend, it sure as hell might help her keep one.
Pig rattled his cage again.
She folded up the paper roughly and tossed it aside. Screw being a nice girl.
Hermione practiced casting glamours for a week before deciding which one to don for her trip to the corner of Knockturn and Diagon Alley. She’d spent another week walking past the door to Severlish’s, quailing each time she thought of entering and discussing her carnal needs with a total stranger.
Today, though, she was going in. Just like the dildo she’d be bringing home, thank-you-very-much.
She’d decided on straight brown hair for her glamour—complete with higher cheekbones, and a thinner nose.
A bit more lipstick than usual? Check.
Larger boobs? Check. And…check.
She surveyed herself in the mirror. Merlin, she looked like one of Salazar’s seventeen sluts.
Okay, maybe less lipstick.
Picking up book for comfort and tucking it under her arm, Hermione spun away from her flat, reappearing just inside Diagon Alley. She took a deep breath and headed down the cobblestones towards Severlish’s oddly shaped sign, trying not to teeter too grandly in her heels.
The burgundy wooden door creaked, a tinkle of bell announcing her arrival into the tiny, well-lit shoppe.
The store’s empty. Ginny or Luna aren’t even here, looking for an upgrade, or replacing a worn out part. Maybe I’ll be able to pop in and out without seeing anyone I know.
The proprietor silently appeared from the behind the counter. He looked down his long nose with pitch black eyes. “Miss, please let me know if I can assist you in any way.”
Gods, why did the clerk have to be a man? Surely her face was as purple as the toy nearest her in the case. Actually, her face was probably glowing like that pink one on display on the shelf, or perhaps flashing with each heartbeat, like the neon red one parked on the counter.
Don’t mind little old me, I’m just, you know, shopping for a dildo. Like I’ve done a million, billion times before. I do this so often, I’m a pro.
“Thank you,” Hermione said, trying to infuse her response with more confidence than she felt. She glanced around the store as not to meet his eye. “I will let you know.”
“Feel free to handle anything you like,” he added, a touch of sarcastic humor colouring his tone.
As something tickled the edge of her consciousness, she chalked it up to nerves and continued to wander the small store.
From behind the counter, a glamoured Severus Snape regarded the little witch considering a purchase in his shoppe. Something masked by the tart makeup recalled someone he knew. But since the petite woman with a book under her arm had coated herself in layer upon layer of glamours—just as he had—he could not quite place her.
Who is she? I know her, but…oh, what the hell. It’s not as though she’s going to know. I’ll just figure out who she is and…eh…withdraw quickly.
Severus caught her eye and reached out to brush the witch’s mind. Since she was uncomfortable—in truth, nearly distracted to the point of embarrassment—tapping her mind took a fraction of a second. And she hadn’t resisted at all.
Hogwarts…hmm…so, she’s a former student. That would explain where he knew her from. Potter and the Weasley boy…the Order…
Well, Circe’s left tit, if it isn’t Hermione Granger, Princess of Gryffindor, shopping for a dildo.
He nearly laughed out loud.
Suddenly, he appeared in her memories, standing in front of a classroom…and he felt her warm response as he intoned yet another ludicrously boring Potions lecture.
Holy hell. So you had a bit of teacher crush, did you, Miss Granger? Perhaps the reason for your desire to draw attention to yourself in class? Or impress me with your knowledge?
Swallowing, he broke the connection immediately. He’d never been so thankful for a glamour in his life.
Hermione felt what might have been the tickle of magic against her halfhearted shields. Trying to figure out who she is, was he? Bastard. His magic felt…familiar somehow, as if she’d been close to it before.
No, it couldn’t be. She didn’t know him. Besides, her shields had been strong enough to prevent any intrusion, so she returned to the task at hand: finding a plaything amongst the thousands standing at attention before her like a silicone army.
She glanced around. While some of the toys were shocking, some were altogether baffling. What was the purpose of an incandescent sex toy? A glow-in-the-dark one? Was it possible to flail around in pleasure so violently that one can lose a dildo in the dark?
Hermione snickered as she imagined a brightly glowing plastic cock disappearing as it slid into her.
The proprietor glanced up and raised an eyebrow.
She swallowed and got her snickers under control.
One was infused with a locator spell—handy, she supposed. Another was pre-infused with lube—also convenient—and another, prefilled with—Merlin’s hairy balls—a warm, creamy substance that spilled out upon the murmur of a simple spell.
Certainly whomever had manufactured these…toys had an imagination that rivaled, well, someone other than her.
The blue iridescent one played music—or other magically recorded sounds—on command. Oh, what could be more perfect than driving herself to orgasm while a delicious, chocolatey-velvet baritone from her school days described crushing lacewing flies on repeat?
Wait.
Sweet Merlin, that was it. The proprietor reminded her of Snape.
That was it. She was going to die. She would die and the Prophet would write an exposé on her sordid sex life, describing, in gruesome detail, her last moments picking out a strap-on at Severlish’s. She would be forever known as the Gryffindor Whore, and she would be shunned by wizards and witches alike, and be forced to live out her life alone in her dismal flat, surrounded by lace doilies and her fifty-two half-kneazles.
She kept her face turned away from the man who ran the shoppe, just, you know, in case he could tell.
“What type of simulation do you prefer?” Severus asked after a few moments of his former student wandering the store unproductively. Even if he was the object of her misplaced fantasies, it wasn’t as though he had all night, now, did he?
She jumped. “What type?” She turned towards him, her brown eyes growing wide in horror at the question.
“Do you prefer hard stimulation, stretching, or vibration?”
The little witch—now revealed to be Hermione Granger—seemed to deflate, and stared back at him blankly. “I…eh…don’t know.”
A complete novice. Well, no surprise there.
Merlin, he needed a drink.
“Contemplate for a moment as you browse. The models to your right are glass, steel, or wood; those are best for hard stimulation and temperature play. All models are spelled with a specialized Engorgio, should you prefer stretching. Those in the center case vibrate; some are rabbit style which will, of course, stimulate the clitoris at the same time.”
“Of course,” she echoed as her face darkened to a shade of a past-ripe tomato.
He chuckled inwardly. Just wait. “We also stock anal plugs should you prefer double penetration. There is a 15% discount if you purchase a dildo and an anal plug at the same time.”
He met her eye, daring her to ask a question.
Instead, she swallowed. “Okay. Thanks.”
Merlin, why, why was this wizard continuing to talk to her? And about sales on anal plugs, no less? Where on earth was something, you know, for a beginner? ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she imagined herself saying, ‘do you have anything appropriately boring, perhaps suitable for an utter neophyte?’
To her abject horror, the proprietor cleared his throat and continued. “On the shelves behind you are curved and textured models. Most who are new to self-pleasure…” he said, curling his lips into a smirk, “…tend to find heavily textured toys somewhat overwhelming, so you may wish to choose a smoother model. A curved model may also serve, as well. It may feel more comfortable than one with bumps and ridges.”
Dammit. It was as if he read her mind.
Hermione meandered to the other side of the showroom. Everything seemed to have extra appendages, or came with a thirty page instruction manual. She peered closely at a glowing orange one. It had five different buttons, three of which had two settings. Did it require a mandatory eight week course on operation? Or an operator license?
Anything that whirred, spun, or moved of its own magical accord, or anything that was a colour not found naturally on the human body—including anything that lit up, no matter how sparkly it was—terrified her.
She wanted something simple.
Something…that looked natural.
That pretty much ruled out everything in the store.
Except—
Perched on the tallest shelf near the back of the shoppe, tucked neatly in the corner, was exactly what she had pictured when she thought of bringing a…eh…new playmate home.
It was flesh coloured, rather generous in size, and looked—from her limited experience—rather realistic.
It was perfect.
Unfortunately, it also rested on a ledge far too high for her to reach on her own.
Pointing to the upper shelf, Hermione summoned her courage and croaked, “May I see that one?” She cleared her throat. “It looks…right.”
Perhaps she imagined it, but it seemed as though the wizard raised his eyebrow fractionally at her choice.
The owner abandoned his behind-the-counter refuge, emerging with a flourish of robes to retrieve the toy from the uppermost corner shelf. “I feel it is important to inform you that that particular model is rather…larger than the others, miss,” he commented with the same bemused tone he had used earlier.
He placed it on the counter and stepped back. Was he inviting her to touch it? But how do I pick it up? Where do I grip it without broadcasting that I have never handled such a thing before?
Apparently noticing she was uncomfortable with the prospect of lifting it, he grasped it and held it out to her. It fit nicely in his hand; his long fingers wrapped around it, almost as if it he were used to its shape and size.
The sight made her salivate.
Transfixed, Hermione laid her book down on the counter and reached for it with both hands; he was right, based on her experience, she knew it was a bit, well, oversized. But it was soft and supple, bendable…and—Sweet Circe in her white robes—utterly beautiful.
Gods, it was…magnificent.
Hermione bit her lip.
This gorgeous silicone cock could be inside her.
Tonight.
This afternoon.
In a few short minutes.
“This is the one.”
“A fine choice,” he intoned emotionlessly.
The proprietor retrieved his wand from a holder on his right forearm and cleaned it with a slightly modified Scourgify.
“Is there another one, maybe in a box—“
He cut across her. “Actually, it is the only one of its kind in existence.”
“Oh.” It was all she could think of to say.
“This unit has not been used—be assured, we do not resell returns,” he said with a smirk, turning it over in his long fingers. “I clean all of them before they leave the shoppe in case they have been handled by someone while they browse. I can assure you that this one has not been…examined as closely as most of the others have. In fact, I believe you are the first to even request to see it. I am only cleaning it because it is the store policy to do so.”
“I see.”
“In future, you may use a Tergeo on it as well as any Scouring Charm you please.”
“Okay.”
“Our toys may be used with or without magic,” he continued, while reaching under the counter to retrieve some paper to wrap it in. “Feel free to use any spell you wish on it—it will respond. Should you wish to utilize spells that have already been infused within it, the instructions are included on this.” At that, he dropped a small, rolled parchment into the bag on top of her carefully padded…newest form of entertainment.
It landed with a tiny plink.
Hermione jumped.
“Twenty-five galleons,” he intoned, his deep voice reverberating in her belly.
She retrieved the extortion money from her purse, and shrank the unmarked bag to fit inside the pocket of her robes. She was about to waltz through Diagon Alley with a tiny dildo in her pocket. What if she were in an accident, and some unknown mediwitch emptied her pockets and found the miniature toy? Would they think it was a good luck charm? Would St Mungo’s confine her to the fourth floor to live out her days drooling with Lockhart?
“Thank you,” Hermione mumbled and met his fathomless dark eyes. No one has eyes like that. Except—Sweet Merlin, I think it is Severus Snape.
Time to go.
“Enjoy,” he said, his lips twitching upward in a near-smile.
Hermione found that her mouth was so dry, she couldn’t respond even if she wanted to.
Severus blinked as the door slammed shut behind the little witch fleeing with her purchase.
Well, that was certainly an interesting experience. In the eight months since Severlish’s had opened, no one had ever bought that model. It seemed every witch or wizard wanted whirling lights, blinding colours, buttons, or extras; no one wanted an unadulterated, anatomically correct experience.
Except Miss Granger.
And from his glance into her memories, perhaps the novice would even be thinking about him while she pleasured herself with it.
His dick—or rather, a decent facsimile of his dick—would be teaching her once again.
Wouldn’t that be just so perfectly…fitting.
Maybe he’d even allow himself a wank at the thought of her moaning around the shape of him.
He charmed the store sign to ‘closed’, locked the door, and wandered into the back room. He huffed a laugh before vanishing his glamours. What a fucking fabulous job. Why no one had ever conceived of magical dildos before him, he had no idea.
Truth be told, the shoppe was more lucrative than he ever could have imagined. Sure, the gold from the Order of Merlin was enough to soak his trousers in for a good long time, but he found that he needed a little more entertainment in his life—and this establishment provided that, and more.
Apparently—just like Miss Granger’s appraisal of the mould of his dick—the shoppe was perfect.
As a bonus, when he needed even more amusement, Severus simply imagined the reactions of his customers if they knew they had bought their sex toys from the Greasy-haired Bat of the Hogwarts Dungeons.
Bat of their Dungeons, it was now.
At the memory of Miss Granger’s horrified flight from his store, he laughed aloud. Based on her embarrassment alone, he doubted he’d ever have to see her blushing face again.
He looked out across the dark space, still chuckling, until something stopped him short: Miss Granger’s book was lying abandoned near the register.
The unremarkable brown bag that promised hours of pleasure sat dejectedly on her kitchen counter, taunting her silently for nearly two days. Hermione avoided it so completely, she resorted to ordering take away instead of cooking a meal. Thank Merlin she hadn’t parked it in her only bathroom.
She wasn’t ever going to use it. She was never going to even get it out of the package.
Certainly she should return it and put her twenty-five galleons to use with a new book or two?
But returning it would mean she would have to face Severus Snape again, and explain exactly why it wasn’t working for her, while surrounded by a hundred purple, flashing—and potentially singing—whirly-bird dildos.
Facing her schoolgirl fantasy-crush surrounded by a sea of sparkly sex toys was more like it.
The idea didn’t appeal to her in the least.
Hermione took a sip of her tea and ventured a glance at the bag again.
Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d been sorted into the wrong house.
An hour later, Hermione slammed her third empty glass of Ogden’s down on the kitchen counter with more force than was strictly necessary, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Okay, Gryffindor, let’s see what this bad boy looks like up close.
She reached into the bag and yanked the dildo out, freeing her new toy from layer upon layer of paper. The way it’s wrapped, you’d think it was fragile or something.
Wait, it isn’t fragile, is it?
She set it on the counter gingerly and retreated several feet.
“Sweet Merlin, Crookshanks, the thing looks real!”
Her familiar turned away and twitched his tail.
Hell, if she used a permanent sticking charm to add a handful of dark curly hair near the base, the damn thing would look exactly like what she imagined he would…
Tentatively, she approached it and poked it with her forefinger; it gave slightly under pressure, although it was relatively firm, the surface was surprisingly soft. She laughed nervously. It wasn’t perfectly smooth; tiny ridges and bumps—things which she imagined to be veins—mottled the surface. It was lifelike, and that was, well, fucking hell, that was…deliciously enticing.
Hermione backed away and poured herself another hand of Ogden’s.
She nudged her new toy again with the point of her finger.
What the hell am I doing? It’s not like it’s going to bite.
It was just as big as she remembered. It was longer than Harry’s—even though she’d never seen his ready for action, they’d spent months together in a tent—and, Merlin help her, a shade bulkier than Ron’s.
No one would ever need to use an Engorgio on this one, that’s for damn sure.
What now?
Well, perhaps the parchment would shed some light?
Hermione unrolled the instructions that had been included with her purchase, revealing Snape’s familiar, pointy script. Well, the slimy bastard couldn’t glamour that, could he?
“Thank you for your purchase.
“First time users of this model may wish to try the deep thrusting method. As the name suggests, insert the toy deeply until it hits the cervix. Repeat.”
Repeat? What is this, a recipe?
“Conversely, one does not need to insert the entire toy into the vagina. Instead, attempt rapid, short strokes in the first third of the vagina. The device is easier to hold on to with this method.”
Well, duh.
“Alternatively, one may move the device back and forth at an angle in a rocking type motion. This will apply pressure to the posterior wall, which one many find enjoyable.
“Our customers’ satisfaction is always guaranteed. Please contact the experts at Severlish’s for more information, or to arrange for a personal, private consultation.”
As if! I sure as hell can figure out how to use a dildo without a private consult!
Hermione grabbed her new friend and strode to her bedroom, shedding her jumper along the way. After shutting the door behind her, she stretched out on the bed, closed her eyes in the darkness, and let the velvet baritone of her imagination take her.
“Miss Granger…”
His finger was the one that probed her; his finger was the one that found her most sensitive spot. Calloused but deft, it moved slowly at first, then gained speed. Faster! Harder! Her core pulsed and clenched. She came in a blinding flash of throbbing light, slipping over the cliff of a dizzying abyss, her body tingling and pulsing with a new desire: more! Again!
It was then that Hermione realized that she hadn’t used her new toy: it was still waiting in her other hand.
Now she wanted—Merlin, where had that thought come from?—she wanted to be bent over, with this magnificent dildo inside her.
Seeping with wet desire, Hermione got up and reached for her wand. “Lumos,” she muttered, and a soft light lit the room. She stumbled to the bath.
“Manere.” The toy stuck to the side of the shower, just below waist-high. As she stood there, gazing at it through the fog of drink and desire, a single thought flittered through her brain: Gods, would it even fit?
Bending over, she pulled her wet folds apart, and stepped backward. The tip pushed its way inside her. She gasped. Oh, fucking hell, this is going to be good…
Jet robes rippling like black fire…
Hermione backed up a bit more.
Black buttons for her to explore…
She moved herself closer toward the wall. His breath became labored at her ear; his fingertips pinched her nipples. Hermione bit her lip. Hard.
Endless obsidian eyes, rich with desire…all for her…
Her body moved without thought or direction, slowly thrusting at first, then impaling itself deeper and deeper each time. She began to cry out each time the dildo plunged into her.
“Miss Granger…”
She came with a scream of his name, collapsing forward onto the tile as the world spun around her.
Gods, how she wished that somehow, some way, Severus Snape could actually be there.
An hour later, a giddy Hermione emerged from her bedroom, padded over to her couch, and folded her feet beneath her. She sighed happily. Delightful. That was delightful. Now, for the coup de grâce she had earned: spending the rest of the evening reading.
She glanced around for her book.
Her smile faltered.
Oh, shite.
The last time she’d had it, she…she had it under her arm at Severlish’s. She must have left it. Fuck. She was going to have to ratchet up her courage and get the damn thing back or Pince was going to kill her.
Or worse, deny her entrance into the Hogwarts library ever again.
Hermione’s second venture into the warren of dildos otherwise known as Severlish’s was a bit less…stressful. She idly wondered if her new found serenity had anything to do with the repeated and dedicated use of one of their products.
“Good afternoon, sir. I made a purchase here last week, and I believe I left a book on the counter.”
“I have it here,” her former professor said, extracting it from a shelf beneath the register. The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned it in his long fingers and examined the spine. “We usually don’t see such mundane things in this particular shoppe.”
“Perhaps you only see Potions books, then?” she quipped.
Severus regarded her evenly. “Have you…enjoyed your purchase?”
“Perhaps.”
Hermione felt a twinge of an intrusion; it was gone as swiftly as it came. Wait, did he…? Certainly not. Certainly that would be completely and utterly inappropriate.
As the gentle tendrils of his Legilimancy magic faded, she knew that yes, he certainly had: Snape was trying to find out whose name escaped her lips while she came.
“Hey, Hermione.”
The Wanton Wizard was near capacity; the crowd hovered about, messy and sweaty, while the music pressed on, a touch too loud, discouraging easy conversation.
“Hey, guys.”
“Well, don’t you look great,” Ginny said, smiling at her. “Whatcha been up to?”
“I took your advice. I went shopping…” Hermione plopped down next to Luna.
Ginny let out a squeal that turned several nearby heads. “I knew it!”
Luna smiled rapturously. “Good for you, Hermione.”
“See? It wasn’t that hard, was it?” Ginny snickered.
Hermione felt herself flush.
“So you got one?” Ginny continued.
“And can I just tell you—it’s perfect. Just…perfect.”
“Which one did you get? Did you bring it?”
“Of course I didn’t!”
“I see you still have a long way to go…” Luna said, eyeing her purse and lifting an eyebrow.
Ginny leaned in towards Hermione. “You know they are all based on a real wizard, right?”
“Pardon me?” Hermione laughed. “Wait. That’s impossible. It’s too big. No one is that size.”
“It’s true,” Ginny said.
“It’s the only one of its kind, so…”
“The only one of its kind? How do you know that?”
“The clerk told me.”
“Limited edition. Very nice.”
“I think I’m in love with that dildo,” Hermione said as softly as she could and still be heard.
“It happens,” Ginny and Luna said at the same time, and shared a look halfway between conspiratorial and knowing.
“You know, Hermione, you could ask who it cast was from,” Luna said.
“You don’t think they would tell me that, do you?” Hermione asked. “I’m sure that’s confidential. I mean, can you imagine how many customers would want to know whose dildo is whose?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Luna said reasonably.
“And then what? Introduce myself and tell him that I want the rest of him?”
Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’d even want the rest? You already have the best part.”
Hermione spent most of the next morning convincing herself that, once again, Luna might be right: there was absolutely no harm in asking who had been the model responsible for the magnificence currently parked triumphantly on her nightstand. What if…what if that wizard was interested in meeting her?
Stranger things than that have happened.
To her.
And it might just help her get her mind off the man she pictured whenever she used her new toy: the man who would never, ever want her.
She readjusted the quill in her hand and stared again at the blank parchment in front of her. Severus Snape, object of a lifetime of fantasies, would be the recipient of whatever drivel she put to paper.
Sweet Merlin, what on earth am I doing?
But it wouldn’t hurt to ask? Right?
Severus glanced up at the source of the incessant scratching emanating from the high window in the back of the shoppe. Weasley’s pesky little owl was buzzing about the sash. Pursing his lips in annoyance, Severus opened the window and allowed the creature inside. It circled him, trying to fly and present the parchment tied to his leg at the same time.
After considering hexing the damn thing out of existence, he cornered the hyperactive bird, and unrolled the missive to reveal Miss Granger’s familiar, labored script.
Dear Sir,
I recently purchased model HBP1. Is it possible for me to be introduced to the wizard that contributed the mould for it?
This owl will wait for your reply.
Thank you,
Your Loyal Customer
Severus barked a laugh. Surely as the Brightest Witch of her Age would have realized that he could never reveal the origin of any of his toys. Particularly this toy.
The owl would wait for his reply? How desperate was she, to write him like this, knowing the answer was most likely ‘no’?
If this model had made someone…desperate, well, that would be a first.
If she only knew.
Severus smirked and summoned a quill. He wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to tease the Princess of Gryffindor about her admiration for a plastic dick.
Hermione opened the response that was tied to Pig’s leg.
Miss:
Please reveal the purpose of your meeting. I will convey it to the intended recipient and relay the answer to you.
Proprietor, Severlish’s
Hermione huffed a laugh. So, Severus Snape wants to play, does he? She dipped her quill in ink and scrawled her reply as tiny owl careened around her flat.
It is my intention to thank him for his contribution to wizarding society. As before, this owl will wait for your response.
Your Loyal Customer
Severus captured the tiny, eager owl and read the note. Contribution to wizarding society? Apparently, Miss Granger had sharpened her wit since leaving Hogwarts. Before he could stop himself, he scribbled:
It sounds as if you are considering awarding him with an Order of Merlin. -Severlish
Chuckling, he folded it and sent it off with the waiting enthusiastic ball of feathers. The bird was back within the hour.
Only if he doesn’t have one yet. -YLC
At that, Severus laughed out loud. Touché, Miss Granger. Let’s up the ante. He wrote: If he does, will you consider something else to show your appreciation? -S
Miss Granger’s reply wasn’t even signed: Absolutely. Whatever comes to mind at the time.
Oh, what the hell. The expression on her face might be worth a good laugh. He replied: Come into the shoppe Sunday eve, 9PM. The model for the HBP1 will be waiting.
A tinkle of the bell announced Miss Granger’s arrival, and with a discreet wave of his wand, Severus vanished his glamour.
“Professor,” she said, inclining her head fractionally and vanishing her own.
“In light of my present occupation, I think we can dispose of the title, Miss Granger.”
“Is that so?” Glancing around the shoppe, her brow furrowed. “You said he would be here.”
“He is.”
The witch stopped and turned towards him, still as stone. “You weren’t kidding about the Order of Merlin. It’s you…” she breathed. “You’re the model.”
“I am.”
Her eyes widened comically. “Gods…”
“You seemed rather…desperate to meet the contributor.”
She stared at him, unyielding, for a long moment.
“Prove it,” she said finally.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, prove it.” She pivoted away from him then, dragging her fingers behind her. They grazed across the glass countertop as she circled the small space. Circe’s left tit, she’d grown into a gorgeous woman.
He felt his composure slip a fraction.
“And how do you expect me to do that?”
“I think you know,” she said, her lips curling into a mischievous smile, as her eyes focused on his belt buckle.
“Miss Granger—”
She cast a wordless Colloportus at the door. “I thought we had dispensed of titles,” she whispered, approaching him slowly. He retreated until the back of his legs hit the glass case behind him with a muffled thump.
One of the dildos on display teetered, fell over, and started flashing.
“You know,” she said, “the HBP1 was my very first toy. In retrospect, I’m not sure why I waited so long. I’ve become rather fond of it.” She closed the last space between them. “I must confess, I’ve become rather needy, as of late. I find it quite difficult to last an hour before I have an overwhelming need to play with it again.”
“Miss Granger, I don’t think—”
“Just for a moment, I thought I had misunderstood,” she continued softly, placing her palms flat against his chest. He could feel their warmth through the heavy black wool of his coat. His cock twitched.
“Misunderstood what?” he managed.
“Your guarantee of customer satisfaction.”
Well, then. A tentative confidence blossomed in his chest. “Customer satisfaction is always foremost in my mind,” he said levelly, daring to smirk at her.
She returned his smirk with her own. “Funny you should put it that way. I’ve had you on my mind quite a lot lately. You’ve been…in…my thoughts.”
“I have?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the sybaritic little witch.
“You have, indeed. In fact,” she whispered as her fingertips traced the edges of the buttons of his frock coat. “You haven’t just been in my thoughts. It appears you—or something the shape of you—has been in other places, too.”
He swallowed thickly.
“So herein lies the problem, Professor. I’m feeling less and less satisfied with my purchase. While it’s perfect—I adore it, actually—things have changed. I need an upgrade. I’m looking for something a little more—how should I put it? Complete.”
“Perfect?” he sputtered.
“Oh, yes.” She regarded him smugly. “But I want the rest. All the rest.” Her hands moved up his chest, over his shoulders and behind his neck. She threaded her fingers in his hair. “And I won’t be satisfied without it.”
His belly did a little swoop. “Far be it for me to deny the request of a loyal customer, especially when their satisfaction is at stake,” he murmured, and bent his head to meet her eager lips with his own.
Author: Anonymous for now
Summary: Hermoine’s friends think she needs a little more pleasure in her life, and suggest the best place to purchase just the thing to help her. There are only two problems: not only does the shoppe owner seem somewhat familiar, but Hermione gets rather attached to her newest form of entertainment.
Prompter:
melodylepetitPrompt: 52. After the Final Battle Severus retired from teaching and launched a line of sex toys. Hermione is desperate to find the wizard that her favourite dildo was molded from.
Warnings/Content: Rated Explicit/NC-17
Read on AO3 / Read on Livejournal
“Hermione, you know her. She’s always early. I’m sure she’s here already, which is why she didn’t answer your Floo-call.”
“I just don’t want her to think we left without her. I’d hate it if she thought we forgot her.”
“She wouldn’t think that.”
“She might.”
Hermione and Ginny tried to peer through the late Saturday night throng of smoke and press of bodies at the Wanton Wizard; they finally located Luna, alone in a large booth near the far corner.
“Hello, Ginny…Hermione.” Luna turned from surveying the crowd and gifted them a hazy smile.
“How are you, Luna?” Hermione asked.
“I am well. I ordered us all a round of Butterbeer.” She cocked her head as she studied Ginny’s face. “You look so happy, Ginny. How’s Blaise?”
“Getting better every day.” Ginny winked as she dropped into the booth.
The server appeared with their drinks.
Hermione grabbed her Butterbeer and took a sip. “What do you mean, ‘getting better’? Has he been sick?” she asked, licking the foam from her top lip.
Ginny laughed. “Not exactly. He’s a sick fuck, but not that kind of sick.” She took a swallow of her drink and pursed her lips flirtingly. “He’s been getting better in bed. Not that he was ever lacking there.”
“Not that he was ever lacking there,” Luna echoed.
“He’s gotten soooo good at—“
“Stop!” Hermione said, raising her hand. Once introduced to even the tiniest bit of alcohol, the few filters that still functioned within Ginny Weasley ceased working.
“Actually, he’s gotten good at not stopping.”
“Don’t—” Hermione pleaded.
“I usually say that right before the word ‘stop’,” Ginny quipped and took another swallow of her Butterbeer, rewarding Hermione’s discomfort with a toothy smile.
Luna leaned forward, putting both elbows on the table, and folding her hands under her chin. Her eyes widened rapturously. “I can’t remember how many times I’ve told Blaise not to stop…” she said dreamily.
“I know exactly what you mean. Did you know he could—“
“Ginny, please. Please!” Hermione begged.
Ginny ignored her. “Merlin, especially when he takes his tongue and—“
“No, no, no, no! That’s it!” She pointed at Ginny. “You can’t possibly think that I want hear about what Blaise does to you.” She aimed her finger at Luna. “…and what Blaise used to do to you.” Leaning forward, Hermione continued, “Are you two mad? And aren’t you the least bit jealous of each other?”
Ginny and Luna looked at each other. Ginny shrugged. Luna smiled more widely.
“No,” they said at the same time.
Luna leaned toward Hermione. “You need a shag. A thorough one,” she said in an exceptionally serious tone.
“Eh, do you see a ring? A boyfriend? Any interested party at all?” Hermione huffed. “Do you guys have any idea how hard it is out there?”
“Oh, I know exactly how hard it is out there,” Ginny said, wagging her eyebrows.
“Good Lord,” Hermione said. “It’s not as though you can say Accio Soulmate and someone just appears.”
“Granger.” The confident tones of Draco Malfoy reached Hermione’s ear over Ginny snorting into her Butterbeer. “Imagine seeing you here.”
Harry and Draco approached the table hand in hand, sweaty and obviously inebriated.
“Whatcha guys doing?” Harry asked, glasses askew, leaning into Draco.
“Were discussing Hermione’s sex life,” Luna said nonchalantly. “Rather, her potential sex life.”
“This should be good,” Draco said, worming his way into the booth. Harry snuggled in next to him.
Hermione shook her head. “We are so not doing this.”
“Why not? Apparently no one is doing you,” Draco said.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on, Hermione. You could use all the help you can get,” Ginny said. “These two could give you some great advice…”
Hermione put her head in her hands.
“I have a suggestion.” Luna opened her eyes wider and, once again, cocked her head to the side. “You need to go to the new shop in Knockturn Alley,” she said, pausing to take a tiny sip of her Butterbeer. “That’s where Ginny purchased the strap on,” she continued innocently, “and that’s where I got this.”
In one quick motion, Luna unzipped her purse, pulled out a neon pink dildo, and set it on the table in front of her. It lit up and began to hum.
Hermione spit out her Butterbeer.
“Niiiiice,” Draco said, picking it up and handing it to Harry, who tried to whistle and failed. He slumped further into Draco’s side and nuzzled his shirt contentedly.
Luna smiled. “You just need some sex. And you don’t need a boyfriend for that.”
Hermione wound her fingers around her morning tea, enjoying its warmth. Despite Ginny’s endless commentary on Blaise’s bedroom accomplishments—and Luna’s reckless discussions of escapades featuring her favorite dildo—she’d managed to have a good time the night before.
She smiled and returned to the leather bound book in her lap. It had taken her years—as well as several letters of recommendation from exactly the right people—but she had finally earned the right to borrow from the Hogwarts Library’s Restricted Section.
Hermione glanced up. The daily owl soared in through the open kitchen window and dropped the day’s Prophet on her lap. As she unfolded it, her smile evaporated. The feature article described Ron’s trip the States in gruesome detail, including the measurements of every female companion he’d escorted to his hotel room. Apparently, speculation on the Wizarding World’s favourite bachelor had achieved new heights since Harry had been taken off the market by Draco.
Hermione tossed the paper down and tried to banish her ex-boyfriend from of her mind. “What the hell, Crookshanks? Why couldn’t there have been a bank robbery?”
The half-kneazle twitched his tail in agreement.
In response, Pig began bouncing in his cage.
Hermione sighed. Why had she agreed to take care of Ron’s bird?
Because it was too painful for Harry to be near an owl. Because she was nice.
Right.
She was caring for the ridiculous ping pong ball while Ron was seeding the larger half of North America. Or perhaps—based on the measurements listed in today’s Prophet—just the more voluptuous half.
Fucking insane. That was what was wrong with her, she was perfectly, blissfully insane.
“Oh, bugger it all!”
She grabbed the paper and flipped it open again with a thwack.
A half-page promotion spread out before her like a sick epilogue to the article showcasing Ron’s exploits.
Severlish’s Tempting Trifles
Explore our luscious line of toys that can be magically customized just for you. Come in for a one-on-one personal—and confidential—consultation. Satisfaction always guaranteed.
31 Knockturn Alley Tues – Sat 10 AM to 9PM, or by appointment
Well, if it wasn’t an advert from Luna and Ginny’s new favorite shoppe. A sign from the wizarding gods of sex, to be sure.
Maybe Ginny and Luna were right. Maybe she needed more pleasure in her life. It might just give her more…confidence with her own body.
And although confidence wouldn’t help her find a boyfriend, it sure as hell might help her keep one.
Pig rattled his cage again.
She folded up the paper roughly and tossed it aside. Screw being a nice girl.
Hermione practiced casting glamours for a week before deciding which one to don for her trip to the corner of Knockturn and Diagon Alley. She’d spent another week walking past the door to Severlish’s, quailing each time she thought of entering and discussing her carnal needs with a total stranger.
Today, though, she was going in. Just like the dildo she’d be bringing home, thank-you-very-much.
She’d decided on straight brown hair for her glamour—complete with higher cheekbones, and a thinner nose.
A bit more lipstick than usual? Check.
Larger boobs? Check. And…check.
She surveyed herself in the mirror. Merlin, she looked like one of Salazar’s seventeen sluts.
Okay, maybe less lipstick.
Picking up book for comfort and tucking it under her arm, Hermione spun away from her flat, reappearing just inside Diagon Alley. She took a deep breath and headed down the cobblestones towards Severlish’s oddly shaped sign, trying not to teeter too grandly in her heels.
The burgundy wooden door creaked, a tinkle of bell announcing her arrival into the tiny, well-lit shoppe.
The store’s empty. Ginny or Luna aren’t even here, looking for an upgrade, or replacing a worn out part. Maybe I’ll be able to pop in and out without seeing anyone I know.
The proprietor silently appeared from the behind the counter. He looked down his long nose with pitch black eyes. “Miss, please let me know if I can assist you in any way.”
Gods, why did the clerk have to be a man? Surely her face was as purple as the toy nearest her in the case. Actually, her face was probably glowing like that pink one on display on the shelf, or perhaps flashing with each heartbeat, like the neon red one parked on the counter.
Don’t mind little old me, I’m just, you know, shopping for a dildo. Like I’ve done a million, billion times before. I do this so often, I’m a pro.
“Thank you,” Hermione said, trying to infuse her response with more confidence than she felt. She glanced around the store as not to meet his eye. “I will let you know.”
“Feel free to handle anything you like,” he added, a touch of sarcastic humor colouring his tone.
As something tickled the edge of her consciousness, she chalked it up to nerves and continued to wander the small store.
From behind the counter, a glamoured Severus Snape regarded the little witch considering a purchase in his shoppe. Something masked by the tart makeup recalled someone he knew. But since the petite woman with a book under her arm had coated herself in layer upon layer of glamours—just as he had—he could not quite place her.
Who is she? I know her, but…oh, what the hell. It’s not as though she’s going to know. I’ll just figure out who she is and…eh…withdraw quickly.
Severus caught her eye and reached out to brush the witch’s mind. Since she was uncomfortable—in truth, nearly distracted to the point of embarrassment—tapping her mind took a fraction of a second. And she hadn’t resisted at all.
Hogwarts…hmm…so, she’s a former student. That would explain where he knew her from. Potter and the Weasley boy…the Order…
Well, Circe’s left tit, if it isn’t Hermione Granger, Princess of Gryffindor, shopping for a dildo.
He nearly laughed out loud.
Suddenly, he appeared in her memories, standing in front of a classroom…and he felt her warm response as he intoned yet another ludicrously boring Potions lecture.
Holy hell. So you had a bit of teacher crush, did you, Miss Granger? Perhaps the reason for your desire to draw attention to yourself in class? Or impress me with your knowledge?
Swallowing, he broke the connection immediately. He’d never been so thankful for a glamour in his life.
Hermione felt what might have been the tickle of magic against her halfhearted shields. Trying to figure out who she is, was he? Bastard. His magic felt…familiar somehow, as if she’d been close to it before.
No, it couldn’t be. She didn’t know him. Besides, her shields had been strong enough to prevent any intrusion, so she returned to the task at hand: finding a plaything amongst the thousands standing at attention before her like a silicone army.
She glanced around. While some of the toys were shocking, some were altogether baffling. What was the purpose of an incandescent sex toy? A glow-in-the-dark one? Was it possible to flail around in pleasure so violently that one can lose a dildo in the dark?
Hermione snickered as she imagined a brightly glowing plastic cock disappearing as it slid into her.
The proprietor glanced up and raised an eyebrow.
She swallowed and got her snickers under control.
One was infused with a locator spell—handy, she supposed. Another was pre-infused with lube—also convenient—and another, prefilled with—Merlin’s hairy balls—a warm, creamy substance that spilled out upon the murmur of a simple spell.
Certainly whomever had manufactured these…toys had an imagination that rivaled, well, someone other than her.
The blue iridescent one played music—or other magically recorded sounds—on command. Oh, what could be more perfect than driving herself to orgasm while a delicious, chocolatey-velvet baritone from her school days described crushing lacewing flies on repeat?
Wait.
Sweet Merlin, that was it. The proprietor reminded her of Snape.
That was it. She was going to die. She would die and the Prophet would write an exposé on her sordid sex life, describing, in gruesome detail, her last moments picking out a strap-on at Severlish’s. She would be forever known as the Gryffindor Whore, and she would be shunned by wizards and witches alike, and be forced to live out her life alone in her dismal flat, surrounded by lace doilies and her fifty-two half-kneazles.
She kept her face turned away from the man who ran the shoppe, just, you know, in case he could tell.
“What type of simulation do you prefer?” Severus asked after a few moments of his former student wandering the store unproductively. Even if he was the object of her misplaced fantasies, it wasn’t as though he had all night, now, did he?
She jumped. “What type?” She turned towards him, her brown eyes growing wide in horror at the question.
“Do you prefer hard stimulation, stretching, or vibration?”
The little witch—now revealed to be Hermione Granger—seemed to deflate, and stared back at him blankly. “I…eh…don’t know.”
A complete novice. Well, no surprise there.
Merlin, he needed a drink.
“Contemplate for a moment as you browse. The models to your right are glass, steel, or wood; those are best for hard stimulation and temperature play. All models are spelled with a specialized Engorgio, should you prefer stretching. Those in the center case vibrate; some are rabbit style which will, of course, stimulate the clitoris at the same time.”
“Of course,” she echoed as her face darkened to a shade of a past-ripe tomato.
He chuckled inwardly. Just wait. “We also stock anal plugs should you prefer double penetration. There is a 15% discount if you purchase a dildo and an anal plug at the same time.”
He met her eye, daring her to ask a question.
Instead, she swallowed. “Okay. Thanks.”
Merlin, why, why was this wizard continuing to talk to her? And about sales on anal plugs, no less? Where on earth was something, you know, for a beginner? ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she imagined herself saying, ‘do you have anything appropriately boring, perhaps suitable for an utter neophyte?’
To her abject horror, the proprietor cleared his throat and continued. “On the shelves behind you are curved and textured models. Most who are new to self-pleasure…” he said, curling his lips into a smirk, “…tend to find heavily textured toys somewhat overwhelming, so you may wish to choose a smoother model. A curved model may also serve, as well. It may feel more comfortable than one with bumps and ridges.”
Dammit. It was as if he read her mind.
Hermione meandered to the other side of the showroom. Everything seemed to have extra appendages, or came with a thirty page instruction manual. She peered closely at a glowing orange one. It had five different buttons, three of which had two settings. Did it require a mandatory eight week course on operation? Or an operator license?
Anything that whirred, spun, or moved of its own magical accord, or anything that was a colour not found naturally on the human body—including anything that lit up, no matter how sparkly it was—terrified her.
She wanted something simple.
Something…that looked natural.
That pretty much ruled out everything in the store.
Except—
Perched on the tallest shelf near the back of the shoppe, tucked neatly in the corner, was exactly what she had pictured when she thought of bringing a…eh…new playmate home.
It was flesh coloured, rather generous in size, and looked—from her limited experience—rather realistic.
It was perfect.
Unfortunately, it also rested on a ledge far too high for her to reach on her own.
Pointing to the upper shelf, Hermione summoned her courage and croaked, “May I see that one?” She cleared her throat. “It looks…right.”
Perhaps she imagined it, but it seemed as though the wizard raised his eyebrow fractionally at her choice.
The owner abandoned his behind-the-counter refuge, emerging with a flourish of robes to retrieve the toy from the uppermost corner shelf. “I feel it is important to inform you that that particular model is rather…larger than the others, miss,” he commented with the same bemused tone he had used earlier.
He placed it on the counter and stepped back. Was he inviting her to touch it? But how do I pick it up? Where do I grip it without broadcasting that I have never handled such a thing before?
Apparently noticing she was uncomfortable with the prospect of lifting it, he grasped it and held it out to her. It fit nicely in his hand; his long fingers wrapped around it, almost as if it he were used to its shape and size.
The sight made her salivate.
Transfixed, Hermione laid her book down on the counter and reached for it with both hands; he was right, based on her experience, she knew it was a bit, well, oversized. But it was soft and supple, bendable…and—Sweet Circe in her white robes—utterly beautiful.
Gods, it was…magnificent.
Hermione bit her lip.
This gorgeous silicone cock could be inside her.
Tonight.
This afternoon.
In a few short minutes.
“This is the one.”
“A fine choice,” he intoned emotionlessly.
The proprietor retrieved his wand from a holder on his right forearm and cleaned it with a slightly modified Scourgify.
“Is there another one, maybe in a box—“
He cut across her. “Actually, it is the only one of its kind in existence.”
“Oh.” It was all she could think of to say.
“This unit has not been used—be assured, we do not resell returns,” he said with a smirk, turning it over in his long fingers. “I clean all of them before they leave the shoppe in case they have been handled by someone while they browse. I can assure you that this one has not been…examined as closely as most of the others have. In fact, I believe you are the first to even request to see it. I am only cleaning it because it is the store policy to do so.”
“I see.”
“In future, you may use a Tergeo on it as well as any Scouring Charm you please.”
“Okay.”
“Our toys may be used with or without magic,” he continued, while reaching under the counter to retrieve some paper to wrap it in. “Feel free to use any spell you wish on it—it will respond. Should you wish to utilize spells that have already been infused within it, the instructions are included on this.” At that, he dropped a small, rolled parchment into the bag on top of her carefully padded…newest form of entertainment.
It landed with a tiny plink.
Hermione jumped.
“Twenty-five galleons,” he intoned, his deep voice reverberating in her belly.
She retrieved the extortion money from her purse, and shrank the unmarked bag to fit inside the pocket of her robes. She was about to waltz through Diagon Alley with a tiny dildo in her pocket. What if she were in an accident, and some unknown mediwitch emptied her pockets and found the miniature toy? Would they think it was a good luck charm? Would St Mungo’s confine her to the fourth floor to live out her days drooling with Lockhart?
“Thank you,” Hermione mumbled and met his fathomless dark eyes. No one has eyes like that. Except—Sweet Merlin, I think it is Severus Snape.
Time to go.
“Enjoy,” he said, his lips twitching upward in a near-smile.
Hermione found that her mouth was so dry, she couldn’t respond even if she wanted to.
Severus blinked as the door slammed shut behind the little witch fleeing with her purchase.
Well, that was certainly an interesting experience. In the eight months since Severlish’s had opened, no one had ever bought that model. It seemed every witch or wizard wanted whirling lights, blinding colours, buttons, or extras; no one wanted an unadulterated, anatomically correct experience.
Except Miss Granger.
And from his glance into her memories, perhaps the novice would even be thinking about him while she pleasured herself with it.
His dick—or rather, a decent facsimile of his dick—would be teaching her once again.
Wouldn’t that be just so perfectly…fitting.
Maybe he’d even allow himself a wank at the thought of her moaning around the shape of him.
He charmed the store sign to ‘closed’, locked the door, and wandered into the back room. He huffed a laugh before vanishing his glamours. What a fucking fabulous job. Why no one had ever conceived of magical dildos before him, he had no idea.
Truth be told, the shoppe was more lucrative than he ever could have imagined. Sure, the gold from the Order of Merlin was enough to soak his trousers in for a good long time, but he found that he needed a little more entertainment in his life—and this establishment provided that, and more.
Apparently—just like Miss Granger’s appraisal of the mould of his dick—the shoppe was perfect.
As a bonus, when he needed even more amusement, Severus simply imagined the reactions of his customers if they knew they had bought their sex toys from the Greasy-haired Bat of the Hogwarts Dungeons.
Bat of their Dungeons, it was now.
At the memory of Miss Granger’s horrified flight from his store, he laughed aloud. Based on her embarrassment alone, he doubted he’d ever have to see her blushing face again.
He looked out across the dark space, still chuckling, until something stopped him short: Miss Granger’s book was lying abandoned near the register.
The unremarkable brown bag that promised hours of pleasure sat dejectedly on her kitchen counter, taunting her silently for nearly two days. Hermione avoided it so completely, she resorted to ordering take away instead of cooking a meal. Thank Merlin she hadn’t parked it in her only bathroom.
She wasn’t ever going to use it. She was never going to even get it out of the package.
Certainly she should return it and put her twenty-five galleons to use with a new book or two?
But returning it would mean she would have to face Severus Snape again, and explain exactly why it wasn’t working for her, while surrounded by a hundred purple, flashing—and potentially singing—whirly-bird dildos.
Facing her schoolgirl fantasy-crush surrounded by a sea of sparkly sex toys was more like it.
The idea didn’t appeal to her in the least.
Hermione took a sip of her tea and ventured a glance at the bag again.
Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d been sorted into the wrong house.
An hour later, Hermione slammed her third empty glass of Ogden’s down on the kitchen counter with more force than was strictly necessary, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Okay, Gryffindor, let’s see what this bad boy looks like up close.
She reached into the bag and yanked the dildo out, freeing her new toy from layer upon layer of paper. The way it’s wrapped, you’d think it was fragile or something.
Wait, it isn’t fragile, is it?
She set it on the counter gingerly and retreated several feet.
“Sweet Merlin, Crookshanks, the thing looks real!”
Her familiar turned away and twitched his tail.
Hell, if she used a permanent sticking charm to add a handful of dark curly hair near the base, the damn thing would look exactly like what she imagined he would…
Tentatively, she approached it and poked it with her forefinger; it gave slightly under pressure, although it was relatively firm, the surface was surprisingly soft. She laughed nervously. It wasn’t perfectly smooth; tiny ridges and bumps—things which she imagined to be veins—mottled the surface. It was lifelike, and that was, well, fucking hell, that was…deliciously enticing.
Hermione backed away and poured herself another hand of Ogden’s.
She nudged her new toy again with the point of her finger.
What the hell am I doing? It’s not like it’s going to bite.
It was just as big as she remembered. It was longer than Harry’s—even though she’d never seen his ready for action, they’d spent months together in a tent—and, Merlin help her, a shade bulkier than Ron’s.
No one would ever need to use an Engorgio on this one, that’s for damn sure.
What now?
Well, perhaps the parchment would shed some light?
Hermione unrolled the instructions that had been included with her purchase, revealing Snape’s familiar, pointy script. Well, the slimy bastard couldn’t glamour that, could he?
“Thank you for your purchase.
“First time users of this model may wish to try the deep thrusting method. As the name suggests, insert the toy deeply until it hits the cervix. Repeat.”
Repeat? What is this, a recipe?
“Conversely, one does not need to insert the entire toy into the vagina. Instead, attempt rapid, short strokes in the first third of the vagina. The device is easier to hold on to with this method.”
Well, duh.
“Alternatively, one may move the device back and forth at an angle in a rocking type motion. This will apply pressure to the posterior wall, which one many find enjoyable.
“Our customers’ satisfaction is always guaranteed. Please contact the experts at Severlish’s for more information, or to arrange for a personal, private consultation.”
As if! I sure as hell can figure out how to use a dildo without a private consult!
Hermione grabbed her new friend and strode to her bedroom, shedding her jumper along the way. After shutting the door behind her, she stretched out on the bed, closed her eyes in the darkness, and let the velvet baritone of her imagination take her.
“Miss Granger…”
His finger was the one that probed her; his finger was the one that found her most sensitive spot. Calloused but deft, it moved slowly at first, then gained speed. Faster! Harder! Her core pulsed and clenched. She came in a blinding flash of throbbing light, slipping over the cliff of a dizzying abyss, her body tingling and pulsing with a new desire: more! Again!
It was then that Hermione realized that she hadn’t used her new toy: it was still waiting in her other hand.
Now she wanted—Merlin, where had that thought come from?—she wanted to be bent over, with this magnificent dildo inside her.
Seeping with wet desire, Hermione got up and reached for her wand. “Lumos,” she muttered, and a soft light lit the room. She stumbled to the bath.
“Manere.” The toy stuck to the side of the shower, just below waist-high. As she stood there, gazing at it through the fog of drink and desire, a single thought flittered through her brain: Gods, would it even fit?
Bending over, she pulled her wet folds apart, and stepped backward. The tip pushed its way inside her. She gasped. Oh, fucking hell, this is going to be good…
Jet robes rippling like black fire…
Hermione backed up a bit more.
Black buttons for her to explore…
She moved herself closer toward the wall. His breath became labored at her ear; his fingertips pinched her nipples. Hermione bit her lip. Hard.
Endless obsidian eyes, rich with desire…all for her…
Her body moved without thought or direction, slowly thrusting at first, then impaling itself deeper and deeper each time. She began to cry out each time the dildo plunged into her.
“Miss Granger…”
She came with a scream of his name, collapsing forward onto the tile as the world spun around her.
Gods, how she wished that somehow, some way, Severus Snape could actually be there.
An hour later, a giddy Hermione emerged from her bedroom, padded over to her couch, and folded her feet beneath her. She sighed happily. Delightful. That was delightful. Now, for the coup de grâce she had earned: spending the rest of the evening reading.
She glanced around for her book.
Her smile faltered.
Oh, shite.
The last time she’d had it, she…she had it under her arm at Severlish’s. She must have left it. Fuck. She was going to have to ratchet up her courage and get the damn thing back or Pince was going to kill her.
Or worse, deny her entrance into the Hogwarts library ever again.
Hermione’s second venture into the warren of dildos otherwise known as Severlish’s was a bit less…stressful. She idly wondered if her new found serenity had anything to do with the repeated and dedicated use of one of their products.
“Good afternoon, sir. I made a purchase here last week, and I believe I left a book on the counter.”
“I have it here,” her former professor said, extracting it from a shelf beneath the register. The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned it in his long fingers and examined the spine. “We usually don’t see such mundane things in this particular shoppe.”
“Perhaps you only see Potions books, then?” she quipped.
Severus regarded her evenly. “Have you…enjoyed your purchase?”
“Perhaps.”
Hermione felt a twinge of an intrusion; it was gone as swiftly as it came. Wait, did he…? Certainly not. Certainly that would be completely and utterly inappropriate.
As the gentle tendrils of his Legilimancy magic faded, she knew that yes, he certainly had: Snape was trying to find out whose name escaped her lips while she came.
“Hey, Hermione.”
The Wanton Wizard was near capacity; the crowd hovered about, messy and sweaty, while the music pressed on, a touch too loud, discouraging easy conversation.
“Hey, guys.”
“Well, don’t you look great,” Ginny said, smiling at her. “Whatcha been up to?”
“I took your advice. I went shopping…” Hermione plopped down next to Luna.
Ginny let out a squeal that turned several nearby heads. “I knew it!”
Luna smiled rapturously. “Good for you, Hermione.”
“See? It wasn’t that hard, was it?” Ginny snickered.
Hermione felt herself flush.
“So you got one?” Ginny continued.
“And can I just tell you—it’s perfect. Just…perfect.”
“Which one did you get? Did you bring it?”
“Of course I didn’t!”
“I see you still have a long way to go…” Luna said, eyeing her purse and lifting an eyebrow.
Ginny leaned in towards Hermione. “You know they are all based on a real wizard, right?”
“Pardon me?” Hermione laughed. “Wait. That’s impossible. It’s too big. No one is that size.”
“It’s true,” Ginny said.
“It’s the only one of its kind, so…”
“The only one of its kind? How do you know that?”
“The clerk told me.”
“Limited edition. Very nice.”
“I think I’m in love with that dildo,” Hermione said as softly as she could and still be heard.
“It happens,” Ginny and Luna said at the same time, and shared a look halfway between conspiratorial and knowing.
“You know, Hermione, you could ask who it cast was from,” Luna said.
“You don’t think they would tell me that, do you?” Hermione asked. “I’m sure that’s confidential. I mean, can you imagine how many customers would want to know whose dildo is whose?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Luna said reasonably.
“And then what? Introduce myself and tell him that I want the rest of him?”
Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’d even want the rest? You already have the best part.”
Hermione spent most of the next morning convincing herself that, once again, Luna might be right: there was absolutely no harm in asking who had been the model responsible for the magnificence currently parked triumphantly on her nightstand. What if…what if that wizard was interested in meeting her?
Stranger things than that have happened.
To her.
And it might just help her get her mind off the man she pictured whenever she used her new toy: the man who would never, ever want her.
She readjusted the quill in her hand and stared again at the blank parchment in front of her. Severus Snape, object of a lifetime of fantasies, would be the recipient of whatever drivel she put to paper.
Sweet Merlin, what on earth am I doing?
But it wouldn’t hurt to ask? Right?
Severus glanced up at the source of the incessant scratching emanating from the high window in the back of the shoppe. Weasley’s pesky little owl was buzzing about the sash. Pursing his lips in annoyance, Severus opened the window and allowed the creature inside. It circled him, trying to fly and present the parchment tied to his leg at the same time.
After considering hexing the damn thing out of existence, he cornered the hyperactive bird, and unrolled the missive to reveal Miss Granger’s familiar, labored script.
Dear Sir,
I recently purchased model HBP1. Is it possible for me to be introduced to the wizard that contributed the mould for it?
This owl will wait for your reply.
Thank you,
Your Loyal Customer
Severus barked a laugh. Surely as the Brightest Witch of her Age would have realized that he could never reveal the origin of any of his toys. Particularly this toy.
The owl would wait for his reply? How desperate was she, to write him like this, knowing the answer was most likely ‘no’?
If this model had made someone…desperate, well, that would be a first.
If she only knew.
Severus smirked and summoned a quill. He wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to tease the Princess of Gryffindor about her admiration for a plastic dick.
Hermione opened the response that was tied to Pig’s leg.
Miss:
Please reveal the purpose of your meeting. I will convey it to the intended recipient and relay the answer to you.
Proprietor, Severlish’s
Hermione huffed a laugh. So, Severus Snape wants to play, does he? She dipped her quill in ink and scrawled her reply as tiny owl careened around her flat.
It is my intention to thank him for his contribution to wizarding society. As before, this owl will wait for your response.
Your Loyal Customer
Severus captured the tiny, eager owl and read the note. Contribution to wizarding society? Apparently, Miss Granger had sharpened her wit since leaving Hogwarts. Before he could stop himself, he scribbled:
It sounds as if you are considering awarding him with an Order of Merlin. -Severlish
Chuckling, he folded it and sent it off with the waiting enthusiastic ball of feathers. The bird was back within the hour.
Only if he doesn’t have one yet. -YLC
At that, Severus laughed out loud. Touché, Miss Granger. Let’s up the ante. He wrote: If he does, will you consider something else to show your appreciation? -S
Miss Granger’s reply wasn’t even signed: Absolutely. Whatever comes to mind at the time.
Oh, what the hell. The expression on her face might be worth a good laugh. He replied: Come into the shoppe Sunday eve, 9PM. The model for the HBP1 will be waiting.
A tinkle of the bell announced Miss Granger’s arrival, and with a discreet wave of his wand, Severus vanished his glamour.
“Professor,” she said, inclining her head fractionally and vanishing her own.
“In light of my present occupation, I think we can dispose of the title, Miss Granger.”
“Is that so?” Glancing around the shoppe, her brow furrowed. “You said he would be here.”
“He is.”
The witch stopped and turned towards him, still as stone. “You weren’t kidding about the Order of Merlin. It’s you…” she breathed. “You’re the model.”
“I am.”
Her eyes widened comically. “Gods…”
“You seemed rather…desperate to meet the contributor.”
She stared at him, unyielding, for a long moment.
“Prove it,” she said finally.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, prove it.” She pivoted away from him then, dragging her fingers behind her. They grazed across the glass countertop as she circled the small space. Circe’s left tit, she’d grown into a gorgeous woman.
He felt his composure slip a fraction.
“And how do you expect me to do that?”
“I think you know,” she said, her lips curling into a mischievous smile, as her eyes focused on his belt buckle.
“Miss Granger—”
She cast a wordless Colloportus at the door. “I thought we had dispensed of titles,” she whispered, approaching him slowly. He retreated until the back of his legs hit the glass case behind him with a muffled thump.
One of the dildos on display teetered, fell over, and started flashing.
“You know,” she said, “the HBP1 was my very first toy. In retrospect, I’m not sure why I waited so long. I’ve become rather fond of it.” She closed the last space between them. “I must confess, I’ve become rather needy, as of late. I find it quite difficult to last an hour before I have an overwhelming need to play with it again.”
“Miss Granger, I don’t think—”
“Just for a moment, I thought I had misunderstood,” she continued softly, placing her palms flat against his chest. He could feel their warmth through the heavy black wool of his coat. His cock twitched.
“Misunderstood what?” he managed.
“Your guarantee of customer satisfaction.”
Well, then. A tentative confidence blossomed in his chest. “Customer satisfaction is always foremost in my mind,” he said levelly, daring to smirk at her.
She returned his smirk with her own. “Funny you should put it that way. I’ve had you on my mind quite a lot lately. You’ve been…in…my thoughts.”
“I have?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the sybaritic little witch.
“You have, indeed. In fact,” she whispered as her fingertips traced the edges of the buttons of his frock coat. “You haven’t just been in my thoughts. It appears you—or something the shape of you—has been in other places, too.”
He swallowed thickly.
“So herein lies the problem, Professor. I’m feeling less and less satisfied with my purchase. While it’s perfect—I adore it, actually—things have changed. I need an upgrade. I’m looking for something a little more—how should I put it? Complete.”
“Perfect?” he sputtered.
“Oh, yes.” She regarded him smugly. “But I want the rest. All the rest.” Her hands moved up his chest, over his shoulders and behind his neck. She threaded her fingers in his hair. “And I won’t be satisfied without it.”
His belly did a little swoop. “Far be it for me to deny the request of a loyal customer, especially when their satisfaction is at stake,” he murmured, and bent his head to meet her eager lips with his own.
