Chapter Text
For the last three weeks, Hermione’s morning walks to work felt light and joyful. Rain, long cafe lineups, or unintended lateness could not spoil her mood. On the best mornings, she got to walk to work with Severus’s hand in hers. Last night, however, she’d spent alone at her flat, and so she smiled only to herself and the passing Muggles as she strode down the London street.
The warm sunshine highlighted her curls and the delicate embroidery around the collar of her navy linen robes. She stopped to pay four quid for two drip coffees from a barista with a leather smock, and then strolled the remaining distance to Diagon, and then Knockturn Alley. (She’d tried Apparating to Knockturn with a latte once, and had ended up covered in her drink, and preferred the morning exercise anyway.)
When she entered the laboratory, she found Severus standing near the back, refilling a jar of moonthistle.
“Good morning, partner,” she said, lifting herself onto her toes so she could kiss him. It still gave her a thrill to greet him with her lips, and nearly as much pleasure to call him partner, given its double meaning (the first time she’d said it, he’d given her ten points, which was far too much, but she hadn’t protested).
“Good morning,” he replied in his soft rumbling voice.
She slid his coffee next to him and took hers into the laboratory at the back. They weren’t doing any more research at the minute, but she’d kept her claim on the desk. She sipped her drink as she dropped her bag and looked over her diary to ensure she wasn’t forgetting anything on her list of things to do that day. While finishing her coffee, she replied to a few letters that had arrived from potential new clients, and then she rejoined Severus in the lab at the front.
Severus had moved on to sorting glassberries. He had three piles in front of them: one with the blemished berries, which they’d juice; another with the largest berries, which they’d dry; and the final with everything else for using as they were after the application of a stay-ripe charm.
He glanced at her as she slipped behind him. “How was dinner with Ginny last night?”
“Good. You know what she said about us?” Hermione asked while putting on a smock. She was brewing Steelskin Potion today, which meant preparing a whole load of crystal clams, which tended to get messy. She levitated the large tank that had arrived yesterday to to her side. Clams, their shells clusters of iridescent purple and blue crystalline spears, were layered on top of each other inside. She grabbed a handful and put them on the chopping board.
“Ginny said, and I quote, ‘it’s about fucking time’,” huffed Hermione. She put on her goggles. “Apparently, it has been completely obvious to her and all my other friends for years that we’re in love with each other.”
“Is that so?” Severus’s lips quirked upward.
Hermione picked up a knife and wedged it into a clam, causing a spurt of blue goo to spray over the table. Severus cast a barrier charm between their tasks so she wouldn’t contaminate his berries.
“When I asked her why she didn’t say anything, she said they all agreed it was better if we came to it on our own time so we ‘didn’t freak out’. Honestly, I thought friends were supposed to be supportive.”
“To be perfectly fair to Ginny, we did freak out,” Severus pointed out with an unusual amount of neutrality.
Hermione twisted the knife in her hand until she felt a pop, and the clam shell split open, revealing a perfect creamy muscle surrounded by midnight-coloured organs. Nestled between them was a perfectly circular crystal pearl. She plucked it out and threw it into a bowl.
“I seem to remember us getting freaky.” She waggled her eyebrows at Severus, making him chuckle.
“Five points,” he said.
“I really think that was probably two,” Hermione said, snorting. “In any case, Ginny knowing we’d freak out makes it worse! It means she was completely right about everything.”
She deftly pulled the flesh from the clam, separating the organs and muscle into separate bowls, then shoved the crystalline shell to the side—she’d process them later.
“What’s wrong with Ginny being right?” Severus asked as he threw several berries into the juicing pile. Hermione picked up a new clam and stabbed it.
“Severus, I’m supposed to be the smart friend. She’s supposed to be the fun friend—not the scarily-knowledgeable-about-my-feelings friend.”
She shucked her clam and glanced at Severus when she was done, unsure about his silence. She found his expression thoughtful.
“What sort of friend was I?” he asked.
“The ‘secretly in love with’ friend, obviously.” She put down her knife and shimmied down the bench so she could kiss him again, albeit awkwardly since she was covered in clam bits and wearing goggles. “You were and are still my best friend, Severus,” she said more seriously.
She watched his cheeks turn pink. “Not Harry?”
“No, he’s my like-a-sibling friend,” Hermione answered matter-of-factly, going back to her task. “Oh, and just so you know, we both have ‘considerable baggage when it comes to relationships’, hence the being freaky while we were freaking out.”
“You know, I think Ginny is the smart friend,” Severus chuckled.
“You’re supposed to be on my side, you know,” said Hermione, but she was grinning.
She knew it didn’t matter in the end, but it still bothered her how obtuse she’d been about her feelings before she became his assistant—especially if they were obvious enough everyone else had seen it plainly. Everyone else except Severus, of course.
She sighed. Perhaps Ginny had been smart not to tell her after all.
She glanced sideways at the man she loved. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be if I’m not the smart friend,” she complained.
“Perhaps you can be the attractive friend,” he said silkily.
Hermione laughed even as she blushed. “I’m not sure Ginny is going to feel that way about me.”
“I’m sure I can convince her,” Severus replied wickedly.
Hermione rolled her eyes and split another clam in two.
“No? How about the likes-her-hair-pulled friend?”
“No!” Hermione snorted.
“Very-bad-at-transfiguring-sofas friend,” he continued, while Hermione protested. “Moderately-good-at-word-play friend?”
“I’m quite good at word play, thank you very much,” Hermione huffed, but Severus was on a roll.
“Loses-track-of-time-while-reading friend.
“Believes-wizard-made-coffee-is-an-abomination friend.
“Does-not-appreciate-being-teased friend,” he finished as Hermione elbowed him playfully.
Hermione laughed and went back to her pile of clam guts. To her surprise, Severus slipped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, hands sliding through the muck on her apron. He lowered his mouth to her ear and kissed the soft spot just underneath it.
“My-favourite-person-in-the-whole-world friend,” he whispered, and kissed her neck again.
“That one I’ll accept,” said Hermione, smiling.
Steelskin potions tended to be a little finicky, in Hermione’s experience. She supposed it had to do with half the ingredients coming from creatures with serious attitude problems. So far she’d managed to coax along the one she was brewing well enough, but it was currently refusing to thicken.
Severus stood two rows over tending to a cauldron of anesthetic gel. His back faced her, but she didn’t mind. She enjoyed brewing in silence together in the same room, focused and simply occupying the same space.
She stared at the half-finished potion in her cauldron, trying to sense what it needed like Severus had taught her. Lips pursing, she crushed two more dragon scales and added them to the potion. Nothing happened.
Then it spat at her.
“Ugh! Stupid thing!” she spluttered, wiping off her goggles. “Sometimes I could swear potions have personalities, and this one…” She pointed an accusing finger. “… is an asshole.”
She crushed another dragon scale and added it, stirring firmly. “No—No, you’re going to behave,” she told it firmly, pleased when it gave in.
She heard the sharp tang of a spoon as it hit the ground and then clattered as it rolled under a worktable. Glancing up, she saw Severus had gone completely rigid.
“Severus? Are you all right?” she asked, her hand still stirring. A minute passed, so she tried again. “Severus?”
“I am reinstating your smart friend title,” he said. His spoon flew back to his hand.
“Why is that?” Hermione asked curiously.
“Harmony!”
“Harmony?” She was going to have to renounce the title again. She had no idea what he was talking about, though obviously it had something to do with sex magic.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before now.” He stirred the potion, his hand jittery, then finally turned to face her, eyes bright. “The harmony of the potion.”
“Are you saying potions really do have feelings?”
Severus raised a sharp eyebrow at her. “Of course not,” he said, “but they do have properties. Do you remember what I told you on your first day, about needing to know an ingredient’s purpose in the mixture?”
“Of course,” she said.
“Potions aren’t like spells. I’d assumed sex simply boosted what’s already there, but it doesn’t. It’s an ingredient. Not the mechanical actions, but the intention, the feelings.”
Hermione’s eyes widened in realization. “That’s why harmony is crucial,” she exclaimed, “because if it’s mismatched, one of you is effectively adding the wrong ingredient, and you are actively working against the potion!”
“And why masturbation worked perfectly well to enhance the Daydream Draught, but failed with us together.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want you daydreaming about someone else while I’m sucking your cock,” Hermione said with flirtatious grin.
Severus swiped a hand over his face. “We’ve been experimenting with the completely wrong potions,” he said with a groan.
Hermione laughed. She wished she wasn’t tending a potion so she could run over and hug him. By the looks of it, he was feeling the same thing.
“So what potions would be harmonious?” She tried to think of how she felt while Severus was fucking her, while she was sucking his cock. “I suppose ones related to pleasure are the obvious answer.”
“Pleasure, euphoria, connection… even an anesthetic potion might align, given how sexual pleasure tends to numb pain. We’ll need to consider individual ingredients too.”
“What about love?” Hermione asked.
Severus glared at her. “I will not be making love potions,” he snapped.
“Severus, you might have found the answer!” Hermione said excitedly. She threw clam pearls into her mixture with a little too much enthusiasm, making it hiss. She prodded it. “Let me finish with this cranky fucker and then we can find out.”
It took them a week to decide what potion to test first. They settled on an Elixir of Strengthened Perceptions because it used common ingredients and was easy to brew.
A Sedative Solution matured on the bench near the back wall to test next.
For the first time, Hermione was excited to start their experiment. Severus was too, from the way he kept glancing at her with arousal while he prepared the potion’s base. Her hip kept bumping into him as she prepared the ingredients he needed at his side, and graceful fingers occasionally caressed her hip and bum when he wasn’t stirring. Heat licked down her veins, making her feel heady and drunk.
Before long, Severus announced it was ready.
“I guess you better get undressed then while I finish this,” said Hermione, pulling leaves off fresh sprigs of mint and placing them on the chopping block. A small bowl of glittering beetle eyes and a pile of small gold cap mushroom tops were already waiting.
He slipped behind her, his fingers splaying over her stomach as he pulled her against his distractingly firm body. His erection pressed into the soft flesh of her bum.
“I’d much rather undress you,” he purred lowly in her ear. She made a noise in her throat as one hand slid down to her thigh.
“The longer you distract me, the longer it will be until my clothes come off.”
Five minutes later, Severus was lifting her onto the workbench next to the cauldron. Its metallic bulk radiated heat into her side. Facing him, her hands skimmed up his bare arms to his shoulders as he shifted between her legs. She spread her thighs, helped him press his length inside her. The pressure of him entering her was aching bliss. He paused when he hit bottom. He filled her so completely, wonderfully.
“Ready?” he asked. His cock twitched inside her as if giving its own affirmation.
Face-to-face with him, staring at his eyes dark with arousal, she wished for a moment that she’d been honest with him from the start. This was how their experiments always should have been. It would have made the repeated failures so much more bearable.
She pressed her palm to his cheek and kissed him deeply. Hooking her feet behind his thighs, she pulled him closer as their tongues slid along one another. His eyes were hooded when she pulled away.
“I’m ready,” she whispered.
The experiment began with a slow, teasing stroke of his cock. It felt exquisite, though her hips wished to urge him faster. Nevertheless, she forced herself to concentrate on the potion. Severus had already picked up the stirring rod, so she lifted the bowl of beetle eyes and tipped it into the cauldron. She counted the rotations of his hand, his hips rocking in time with his circles.
After thirty, she dumped in the mint leaves and his cock picked up speed. It wasn’t a long or difficult potion to complete, but given how aroused they’d both been before undressing, she didn’t think it would take too much for either of them to cum. They’d decided to try to boost the potential efficacy by attempting simultaneous orgasm, but at the least, he would need to make sure he came at the right time, so she let him set the pace.
By the time he told her to add the gold caps, her constant tiny moans filled the air thanks to the pounding of his cock and her own fingertips rubbing circles on her clit. They were both sweating, the dampness making his skin slippery as she ran her hands across his shoulders.
“I’m so close,” she murmured, willing herself back from the edge of her climax. She paused her fingers.
“Don’t you dare cum yet,” he whispered roughly. His damp brow fell against hers, his eyes pinched shut. His arm kept stirring.
“How long?” she asked, too caught up in the pleasure to concentrate on how many times he’d stirred the brew.
“Twenty-two—one,” he replied with the number of stirs remaining, sounding equally strained. His cock maintained its torturous rhythm.
“Severus,” Hermione breathed, her legs tightening around his thighs. Pleasure coiled inside her like a taut spring, wanting desperately to be released.
She moaned as his cock turned up its speed, pounding her hard and fast. “Ten.”
A little bit longer. She just had to hold on a little bit longer. A long whine escaped her throat. The pleasure gathered tight, threatening to boil over. Her fingers found her clit again, knowing the time was imminent.
“Now,” Severus barked roughly. “Now. Now….” It was all she needed. Her climax erupted as his words tapered into a long, gasping groan. His cock jerked, went heavy.
She found herself laughing softly as they stilled. Cumming on command had been oddly intense. Her body still hummed, shuddered intermittently as her cunt spasmed with aftershocks of her explosion. She slumped against Severus, resting her head on his shoulder as she let the feelings run through her. His arms came around her, making her smile.
“Did it work?” she asked, not lifting her head.
“Look for yourself.” His deep voice sounded pleased.
Carefully she lifted herself just enough to peer into the cauldron. The potion was its usual off-white colour, but it had an otherworldly shimmer now that made it gleam like mother of pearl.
She peered up at Severus to find him smiling.
“It worked,” she said, slightly in awe that they’d actually done it.
“We won’t know for sure until we test it, but yes, I think so.”
Hermione squealed and then kissed him soundly, making him chuckle against her lips. She squeezed him tight.
“You did it, Severus!”
“We did it. I never would have figured it out without you. Not to mentioned the contributions of your delectable pussy.” He peered down at her, affection shining so strongly in his gaze it made her belly swoop happily. Severus kissed her, gentler, more deeply this time, love exchanging with their lips, and then pulled away with a smile playing on his mouth. “And to think, the solution was in front of us all this time.”
Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes. “Is this really the time for potion-related puns?”
“It’s always time for potion-related puns. You should know that, partner,” he teased.
Hermione smirked at him. “I suppose they do stir some emotions.”
“Four points. Mine was at least seven.”
“Seven? For ‘solution’? You can’t be serious.”