Hermione and Severus had done their best to be good for the date of Halloween. They'd woken up late, luxuriating in the rare holiday.
"You will not be working today," Severus said sternly as Hermione rose and started reaching for the parchment and quill she had left on the bedside table. "No. I beg of you. Leave off for just the day." He grabbed her arm with a fierce grin and peppered her hand with kisses.
Hermione laughed. Sometimes Severus could be so immensely charming.
"Fine," she conceded, "but we already decided we weren't going to eat much today until the feast. How should we occupy our time?"
There was a glint in his eyes. "Let's go out," he said, "the day promises to be a beautiful one."
Hermione smiled, and nodded.
"Also," he said pointedly, "the exercise will do you good, young lady. You've been getting a bit round lately."
He pressed his fingers into her stomach, his false scorn barely hiding his glee and lust.
"Hmph," Hermione said, her fingers running through her abundant messy curls, "Language like that, Severus, and you won't be getting any satisfaction for that egregious cock of yours until after the feast."
He moaned, his hand drifting down to address his morning wood affectionately. "No, you wouldn't, witch," he bit out, the sadistic pleasure of being denied emerging in his tone.
"Oh certainly I would," she said, running her fingers over his thick thighs. "Just watch me deny you the satisfaction of fucking me this morning, Severus Snape."
His moan was low and guttural, but she could hear he had already given up trying to persuade her. She'd been finding that of the two of them, Severus was the one who took the most pleasure out of pain. She wouldn't have pinned him for a sadist in a thousand years, but the way he squirmed at the very mention of not getting what he wanted was undeniable.
She ran her hands over him, making him groan with the pain of unfulfilled desire.
"Please," he begged, with a final ounce of optimism that was entirely without effort.
"No," she said. And with that she bounced up and pranced to the shower.
Severus smirked at her ruefully as she went.
She returned to find him on the phone, one hand clasping his limp cock aimlessly.
"Certainly, my love," he mumbled to his phone. "it isn't any trouble. No, none at all."
"Isn't it late in the day over there for her to be calling?" Hermione asked, and playfully squeezed his belly.
"Teasing vixen," he said, pressing the receiver against his cheek to mute his voice and turning his head towards Hermione. "Yes. It's Erika. She's had a bit of trouble with Jean-Raoul, and needs an ear."
"Take your time," Hermione said, wiping her body off. "But no ménage a un for you." She removed his hand from where it fondled his dick.
"Curses," he said, the pleasure palpable in his voice, "you deny me the simplest gratification of sexing you, and then you forbid me sex myself. And all this for what end?"
"Simply because it pleases me," said Hermione comfortably, and she bent down to dry her toes, waving her ample rump in Severus' face.
He groaned, and went back to his phone call. "Sorry, my dear. Someone is *very* distracting on my end."
Hermione grinned, taking credit with sheer delight.
"So what did you say to that?" He went on, turning back to the conversation seriously. Hermione acknowledged the change by going to her desk and cracking open a book. Reading wasn't work, after all. Even if it was information she could tie into her upcoming article…
"Mhm. I see."
Severus was actually a very good phone listener, Hermione realized as she listened to him. He would provide comments as needed, but mostly focused on empathic responses and thoughtful questions.
Maybe she didn't see it when she was interacting with him, and maybe it came out more strongly when interacting with his other girlfriend. But either way, it gave her a little fluttery feeling in her empty belly. Or maybe that was just her desire for breakfast calling. Yes, she decided her stomach growled loudly, making Severus turn his head and arch an eyebrow at her, it was her hunger.
She looked at Severus, who was looking increasingly grumpy, and she decided to go ahead and get them a spot of something. She clapped for Minty and ordered coffee, juice, and oatmeal for them both, then commenced her reading.
Severus remained on the phone with Erika until the food arrived, at which point he wished her a good morning and closed his phone.
"Oatmeal?" He play-raged, sitting himself down with a pout. "How is a man supposed to start his day on this muck?"
"McGonagall does it," hermione said with a smirk. "Good for the digestion, as she says."
He rolled his eyes, but dug in hungrily anyhow, serving himself in large spoonfuls.
He ate it all, and looked up for more. But Hermione was already sending away the rest of the tureen, and his face fell considerably.
"Did master not like it?" Minty was saying, surveying Severus' scowl warily.
"Oh no," Hermione said comfortably, "he did enjoy it. But you and the elves are not to serve him anything more until the feast tonight. Is that understood?"
The elf was worried at the way that Severus glowered, but as Hermione patted Minty’s shoulder gently, the elf scurried away, glancing back only once as she scampered.
“What,” Severus demanded, sitting with his wide legs astride, “is the meaning of this? You’re restricting me?”
“It’s just a bit of a diet, honey,” Hermione said smoothly, “and you shouldn’t be surprised. If you think I need exercise, oh darling, you need to take a look at yourself in the mirror.”
Severus growled, and looked down at himself. “What?” he said, huffily. “It’s not as though I’m *fat.*”
Hermione did her best to restrain her laughter. “Oh no, honey, I never meant to say that. Of course, of course you’re not fat. But you’d best be careful, or one day you’re going to wake up and be as big as a hippogriff!”
“Can’t a man can’t have a bit of meat on his bones without the entire country going up in arms about it?” he demanded, leaning back in his chair and looking quite smug and self-satisfied.
“A *bit* of meat?” she chortled, and stood up to embrace him. Her lips locked onto his, and her hand massaged his soft, unstuffed gut. “I think you’ve got a little more than a *bit* here, darling.”
He kissed her deeply in return, and relaxed into her massage. His stomach rumbled, and she massaged deeper, trying to help aid his digestion.
“You have got *quite* the gut, dear,” Hermione said, her fingers sinking pleasurably into his broad white flesh.
He grunted and withdrew from kissing her, and gazed down the mountainous expanse of his body. “I can still see my feet. Mostly.”
He bent over, and Hermione withdrew her hand. His entire belly squished into itself like a great ball of dough being kneaded. It was of course quite big, and quite difficult to navigate, but by spreading his legs to accommodate it, he was able to bend down well enough to peer at his feet curiously. “Well, erm, now I can.”
“Oh, love,” Hermione clucked, and patted his shoulder sympathetically as he tried to heave himself back upright. “You’re getting too big, too big indeed, tut tut. Can you even tie your shoes on your own?”
“Yes,” he said, sitting back and rubbing where his belt had pinched his supple, soft skin. “But only with magic.”
“Oh, darling,” Hermione said, with mock pity. “You’re too fat to tie your shoes yourself? For shame, for shame. You’d better keep to your diet, sweetheart, or you’re going to become as big as Slughorn.”
“How long will that take, do you suppose?” Severus asked, his smile sickly sweet with pleasure.
“It depends on how much he weighs,” Hermione responded cheerfully. “And lo, I actually happen to know.”
She stroked her own belly comfortingly as she strode to the old desk in the corner of her room. “There’s a bit of blotting paper here,” she announced, bringing back a sheet that was covered in bits of ink and scribbles, “where Slughorn was tracking his weight. This was his desk and room until he left last spring, if you recall.”
“No,” Severus said disbelievingly, his eyes wide as he dropped the act. “And you haven’t mentioned it to me before?”
“I found it earlier this year,” Hermione said, “and quite forgot about it.”
She unfolded the paper carefully and ran a pencil over the paper, shading in the indents from where Slughorn’s old writing was.
“It does appear,” Hermione said with a smirk, “that he was trying to lose weight, poor old soul. And failing miserably. Look here, he was plateauing at around 485 all through May.”
Severus’ face grew grim, and all of his good humor evaporated. “What am I?” he asked, his voice soft and worried. “Cast that charm,” he elaborated at her brief confusion.
She did, and her modified plump witch, Cozy, emerged from her wand. Cozy looked Severus from head to foot, and patted his belly warmly.
“You’ve been coming along nicely,” she cooed, and took out her measuring tape. “A plump 60 inches around your belly. What effort! And…” - she waved her wand - “A hefty three hundred and forty three pounds. Good gracious, you’ve been hungry.” She winked. “What a nice plump hunk of man for you, dearie,” she said, addressing Hermione. “
Severus did some mental calculations. “That’s about seventeen pounds in two weeks,” he said, looking stunned. “I…”
He looked at Hermione, frantic worry in his eyes, as if he’d been caught sneaking biscuits from the biscuit jar.
She smiled beatifically at him. “And how on earth is that a surprise?” she said with a radiant grin. “You’ve been eating practically nonstop, my love.”
“Ugh,” he groaned, not denying the obvious, and he looked down at himself, a little bit sad, and quite uncomfortable.
Hermione waved Cozy over to assess her, and was pleasantly surprised with the results.
“Ten pounds in less than seven days - good job dearheart,” Cozy announced happily, Beaming, she looked over at Severus again, who was experimentally cradling his empty belly, assessing its weight.
“It’s not as if it all goes there, ducky,” Cozy said with a smirk. She ran her wand along Severus’ jaw and arms, and then down to his buttocks. “You also are quite skilled at putting on weight in these areas, here.”
Severus hands went immediately to touch his squishy behind, and indeed he seemed satisfied with what he found there - for even he couldn’t help himself from squeezing at his joyfully round cheeks, which indeed, Hermione now saw, had taken the bulk of his new pounds.
Hermione crept up behind him and, without further adieu, began to frot against him, her clit begging for stimulation against his soft behind.
“Ai,” exclaimed Severus, spinning around and catching her against his tummy before he managed to swing her into a close, squishy embrace. “None of that, now, you said we’d have to wait until after dinner.”
“But now I regret that,” Hermione pouted, “now that I know how fat you’ve gotten.”
“Ah,” Severus said with an arched eyebrow, “but what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. Or something like that.”
Hermione’s hand dove underneath his belly, and hefted it in her fingers. It was so soft and squishy, and she couldn’t wait to get her clit against it.
“Fine,” she said, and turned away from him after a quick kiss to the cheek. “You know why it’s a good thing that we’re eating light this morning, right?”
Severus rolled his eyes. “It tricks the body into thinking it’s starving, and then permits us to gorge ourselves even further at the feast.”
Hermione grinned. “Correct.”
“But we already are so *good* at gorging ourselves,” Severus complained, “so bloody, bloody good.”
He sighed. “Erika will scarcely recognize me. I hope she realizes what she’s put me through by putting me on medication in the first place.”
He shook his head, and went to go put on his clothes. Hermione followed suit, and they departed for a luxurious long walk out in the moors.