The sun came out for the third or fourth time that afternoon, casting the moor in a golden light, making Snape’s perfect - *perfect* - dark hair glisten. She grabbed the plate of cheese and bread and lay down next to him, and he readjusted himself so that they were both looking at one another, and he rested one hand on his belly and propped up his head with his other arm folded beneath his neck. Without a word, she broke the rind off the hearty bread, smothered it in the cool, creamy butter from the basket, and offered it to his lips. They opened hungrily, and stole it from her fingers, licking the butter off her fingertips to follow. “More,” he implored, moving closer to her on the blanket, inching his body sideways like a large fat seal on the beach. “You’re so round,” she said admiringly, and she folded the entire rest of the slice of buttered bread in her hand over twice, and then squished it together until it formed a ball, and then she dipped it in the butter again and put it in his hungry mouth. “It looks like we’ve got a lot in this wonderful basket of yours, so I hope you also brought your appetite.” “When do I ever forget it?” he said with a low, delicious growl, and suddenly his lips were sucking the place where her second chin was forming so subtly. “I… I like that,” she whimpered, “but here.” She pushed another ball of smooshed bread into his mouth, and he chewed thoughtfully, sighing and moaning as he tasted the creamy butter in the center, and he lay back again. “Don’t you dare stop,” he said, laying on his back, folding his arms behind his head. “You’re just the biggest fucking fat cat in the universe,” she observed lowly, pushing another ball of bread into his mouth. He chewed happily on it, and as soon as he swallowed she put another one into his mouth. She found herself making balls of bread with one hand while stuffing them in his face with the other, and oh, she could practically see his belly expandiing. The whole loaf of bread was running low soon, however, and Snape’s eyes were attentive and alert to this fact. Hermione pretended she didn’t notice, never stopping her feeding of him, and just when she stuffed the last ball of bread in his mouth, he began to say something, but she shut him up with a kiss and grabbed her next choice of food from the basket - a large jar of creamy white mozzerella balls with basil and tomato. And with a deft twist, the jar lid was off, and she let her fingers sneak into the sixteen-ounce jar and grab a fistful of the cool, sweet-smelling cheese, and she popped one into his mouth without breaking her pace. “Mmmm,” he whimpered as she successfully stuffed a ball of cheese into his mouth the very moment he swallowed the last of the bread, “you do know how to please a man.” He was so cute, chewing the cheese in the back of his mouth so he could speak (if garbledly), and his entire cheek puffed out, full and stuffed. “I try,” Hermione said, then stuffed another two balls in his mouth as soon as he could swallow the last one, and to her delight he stuffed those in either cheek and chewed them both at once. “I like you with your mouth full,” she purred, kissing him on either cheek, and rubbing the great expanse of his belly. It wobbled, flabby and growing, and it aroused her beyond words. He swallowed again and opened his mouth wide, and she repated the process, and he chewed both balls salaciously. She realized it took him quite a bit longer to chew two at once, however, so she settled back to stuffing him bite by bite once he swallowed those. Soon the cheeses were gone, and Hermione was looking in her own expandable bag for vittles. “Just want to get rid of all the perishables,” she said with a smile as Snape looked at her expectantly, hunger in his eyes despite having eaten so much already. What she brought out of it made him shiver with anticipation visibly, his entire jellylike abdomen jiggling as she showed him what she’d brought. “I’m going to be so fat,” he groaned, opening his mouth, “So very, very fat.” “And you’re going to like it,” cooed Hermione. She’d stolen an entire cake from the Great Hall, and it was one of the most desireable ones, by her estimation. Sweet molten white chocolate frosting topped the thick, fatty, breadlike pound cake, and it was truly enormous, nearly as big as Snape’s gut. It was big enough to feed an entire house. “How on earth are you going to get that thing into me?” he mumbled, as she got a fork from the basket. “Bit by bit, my darling,” she whispered, “how else can you eat an elephant?” He looked at her quizzically, and she replied, “oh, a Muggle saying.” “Someday,” he said with a seductive grin, “I’d like to eat an entire elephant. A nice fat one.” “You can only prepare for that beautiful day by eating every single bite of this cake,” Hermione said, her tongue passing over her lips. She licked some of the scrumptious buttercream icing. “Except for that bit, I guess.” He grabbed his belly from underneath, squeezing his fat through his dark button-down shirt, and he opened his mouth with a moan of hunger. She didn’t need him to ask, and she stuffed an enormous chunk of the cake into his face. The landing wasn’t clean, since she’d overestimated the size of his mouth, and his face was covered with buttercream, but he sucked it down obediently, swallowing and chewing bit by bit until his mouth was empty again, and he licked his lips. “More,” he demanded, and she obeyed, despite the fact that she really wanted to lick the extra buttercream off of his adorable chubby face. He looked like such a glutton, she loved it. But she herself was getting hungry, and so she tore off part of the cake for him and stuffed it in his mouth, but she also stuffed another part in her mouth. He immediately sucked down what she’d put in his mouth, and he murmured “Oh god,” his eyes transfixed on her. “Again.” She responded positively, and took another nice big handful of cake and shoved it down her gullet, same with Snape, and he was rubbing his belly more and more determinedly. “Starting to feel it,” he said with a low rumble, rolling back and forth in an effort to get more comfortable, “but don’t stop. Let’s see how much I can take. Fill me to capacity.” So she proceeded with this goal in mind. She put slice after slice of cake in his mouth, and he swallowed and burped and stuck out his tongue, and huffed and took deep, painful breaths, and then opened his mouth for more. Oh yes, his face was starting to get red, and he was starting to sweat with the effort of chewing and swallowing, and Hermione kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing him to accept bite after bite. But eventually he wasn’t able to any more, and shook his head, lips closed, and he looked about ready to be sick. “You look about done,” Hermione said, and began to gently rub his overstuffed tummy. He groaned with pleasure and pain, but kept his lips tightly pressed together. “You need to rest for a bit,” Hermione said, stroking him fondly. “You just rest. You definitely outdid yourself this afternoon.” He nodded ever so slightly, and his entire stomach rose and fell as he burped a little, making a little bit of room. “Good digestion you’ve got,” she said with a smile, stroking the lower, intestinal part of his belly. “I wonder if there are potions that might help to speed it up?” He didn’t respond, but rolled his eyes. “Oh,” she murmured, “I guess that was a dumb question. Of course there are potions.” He swallowed and rasped, a snail-like smile spreading across his face, “Don’t you think I’m doing enough damage on my own without potions?” “Oh, erm,” Hermione said, chewing her lip, “if you don’t want to try them, then by all means, forget I said anything.” He just gazed at her with blissfully sated eyes, and ever so gently rubbed his belly, careful not to slosh it. “Maybe,” he said, lowly, “I’d like to try sometime.” Hermione gently laid down next to him, both hands gently massaging his gut, and he moaned and shivered with pleasure. Her hands, as they traveled, ran over the line where his trousers cut across his belly, and with a gentle hand, she tucked her hand up his shirt and pulled them down, and undid the belt and buttons. While they’d been perfectly-fitting at the beginning of this afternoon, by now they were just hanging together for dear life. “Oh god,” Snape moaned with pleasure, “oh god.” Hermione’s hands wandered a little bit lower, and found Snape’s hard cock. “You want me to fuck you?” she asked kindly, pulling his pants down and her skirt up. He just nodded, completely relinquishing control of the situation to her. She cast the regular spells and eased herself down onto his cock. It was harder than she’d ever felt it before, and it nearly felt fit to burst itself. His veins were clearly visible in the autumn sun, and his cock was as pink as a rose. Looking up at him, she admired the way his belly towered over the rest of his body. He looked truly like a beached whale, too fat to get up or even move, but desperately hungry to be pleasured. And pleasure him she would. She peeled apart her labia, drew the clitoral hood, and made sure that her clit rubbed against Snape’s nice fat pubic area, where it was stimulated by the hot, jiggling flesh unlike anything else. Then she started thrusting, relishing the control she had over the way his cock felt in her body, able to get exactly the right angle at any given moment. Snape moaned and moaned. Having come just over an hour before, however, he was not ripe to come again for some time, which Hermione savored. She was quite unexercised in having sex on top, given she mostly pleasured herself lying flat on her back, so it was hard to maintain the stamina, particularly how heavy she was. She thought back briefly to how it’d felt last time she’d been on top, with Ron. Granted, Ron generally liked her to ride him the opposite way, not facing him. She’d been dismayed because she couldn’t see his belly (which was washboardlike and insubstantial, except after Christmas when it was a little more soft than usual). He’d prefered to see only her ass, it seemed like. So she was worn down very quickly and had to take multiple breaks. She stimulated her clit with her fingers as she paused for breath. Finally, Snape growled and patted her on the arse. “You’re too fat and lazy to ride me,” he said, rolling over gently, “I don’t mind. In fact, I like it. Get those untoned thighs over here,” he said, gesturing for her to stand over him. She did, and took off her dres entirely, and lowered herself down until he could lick her cunt, and she could rest her head on his belly. She supported herself on her hands, and her feet both made their own nests in the dirt, but ultimately she was the one supporting herself. And oh, Snape knew how to use his tongue on more than just food. He licked up and down her genital area, seducing her clit with his soft warm wet tongue, so thorough and precise in his movements, sucking and needling her most sensitive spots with the finesse of a Renaissance painter sculpting a beautiful Grecian goddess. And Hermione felt her cervix tense up with pleasure, knotting up and releasing gloriously, and she cried out aloud, not heard by anyone other than the drying flowers, the rippling brook, and her lover. She collapsed on her side on the blanket, exhausted and still exquisitely pleasured. Snape licked his lips, savoring the taste of her juices, and smiled at her. There was an uncommonly beautiful look in his eyes. Hermione took many deep, deep breaths, but wasn’t able to say much of anything. She just touched his belly, which was heaving with every breath he took, and she poked him gently. The fat of his belly rippled, making him moan. “God,” he whimpered, “suck me?” Hermione nodded, and began to ease herself up. But he raised his hand as she propped herself up and prepared to rise. “Wait,” he bid, and gestured for her to scoot closer to him. When she did, he grabbed of of her lovehandles and kneaded it. “You’re getting so fat,” he said with a hushed voice. “All that cake going to your flabby gut. How long will it take for people to notice, do you think?” “People have already begun to notice,” Hermione said, smiling. “Ron was commenting on it last week.” “Yes,” Snape said, with a hiss. “If a Weasley can notice, then it’s definitely not gone unmarked by others in the school. How long will it be, do you think,” he added with a chuckle, “before McGonagall institutes a mandatory physical exercise requirement for all students and staff?” “With my gut growing the way it is,” Hermione responded sweetly, “I’d say no later than New Year’s.” “Yes,” he replied, and gingerly turned himself over so that his belly was no longer facing up, but he was lying on the side. He grabbed her with both hands and started kneading her belly more vigorously. “It’s so flabby,” he said, affectionately, “like dough. So soft. So beautiful.” He reached down and started stimulating his cock, and Hermione had the idea of changing positions so that she was sitting up, and her belly was trapping and stimulating Snape’s cock. It didn’t quite work, since Hermione didn’t really have any drooping overhang to speak of, and therefore very little flexibility in her belly fat, but she did have boobs, so she turned and put them on either side of his cock and let him fuck them. He ejaculated quickly all over her breasts, and rolled back onto his back. “God,” he murmured, “I haven’t had this much fun, ever.” Hermione wiped herself off with the corner of the blanket and lay down next to him again. “I’m still hungry,” she said, and lay down like he did on the blanket, hands folded behind her head. “My turn to be fed.” “Oh god damn,” he said, sitting up slowly, one hand resting on his enormous and over-stuffed belly. “I’m going to have to wank myself again just looking at you eat.” “What’s taking so long?” she responded coolly, and he shook his head as he stabbed one of the last slices of cake with a fork, and lowered it to her gaping mouth. “Who’s going to get so very fat?” he said, as she moaned with pleasure into the cake. “You are. You’re going to get so fat and round, you won’t be able to move.” He fed her bite after bite, until the remainder of the cake was gone. “What else have we got?” he asked, as he opened her endless bag, one hand resting warmly on Hermione’s belly. She shuddered with pleasure as his fingers moved slightly as he adjusted his body into a more comfortable position. “Oh. Yes. This should do nicely.” He opened a box of Bertie Bott’s Just the Sweet Ones and tilted it over her mouth, along with a bottle of pop. He poured a little pop into her mouth, then a handful of beans. “Don’t chew, just swallow. Like you’re taking pills.” Hermione did as she was told, opening her mouth and swallowing the beans. It was easier said than done, but she eventually managed to swallow them all. “I need to chew,” she murmured, “I almost choked.” “Sorry.” His face got red with embarrassment. “That’s an elementary mistake.” “Well, it’s not like we’re not both starting to experiment,” Hermione said, “come on, give me some more, but I’ll chew them.” He obliged willingly, though his resilience was not as quick as Hermione’s own. He still appeared chastised, so Hermione tried to help make up for it by emphasizing how good the food was. “Now give me some marshmallow,” she said, “I think there’s some in there.” He found a large jar of it, and he grabbed a spoon. “Just like this?” he asked with a smirk. “Yeah,” she said with a smile. “It’s straight sugar and lard,” he said, nearly crowing with excitement. “It’ll go straight to your growing belly.” “My intentions exactly,” Hermione said, “I’ve got quite a bit of catching up to do.” She patted his tummy, so broad and bulgy. “And take your shirt off. I like admiring your careful handiwork.” He nodded, and shrugged off his shirt with some effort. Soon his wobbly belly flopped out, and he grabbed his coat and put it on, though did not button it. “Perfect,” Hermione said, and nodded. “Get that marshmallow and spoon it into my mouth. Quickly now!” He obeyed without a word, and kept her mouth full for the next half hour. Oh! Once they were done! Hermione felt so satiated, bloated, and a little sick. Snape seemed to be better, and was already licking the spoon once Hermione couldn’t anymore, and he was rubbing her tummy in the most gentle and loving of ways. “What time is it?” she mumbled through the stupor of pleasant overwhelming sweetness. He grabbed his wand from the coat’s sleeve-pocket and waved it once. “Nearly time for dinner,” he said, “we’d better leave, lest we miss it.” He was clearly dismayed by this prospect. “Unless,” Hermione said, sitting up as much as she could given her overstuffed belly, “let’s go back to my rooms, or your rooms, or whatever, and sleep this off, then get up and have an excellent feast at midnight?” He smiled, sitting back on his nice fat arse. “Let’s do this.” Hermione was glad that they were magic, because quite simply, if she were a Muggle, she wouldn’t have been able to gather all of their things and get off the hill without taking a nap. Snape, fortunately, was a little more alert than she was, and he guided her in getting dressed again and grabbed her arm to apparate. “Let’s go,” he whispered, embracing her, and he kissed her tenderly on the lips as they whisked away from the hill. ……… They arrived back at Hogwarts without any notable events taking place. No one intercepted the groggy, euphoric couple as they walked through the yard. The sun was setting, and the chill was starting to pick up, so they moved as quickly as they could manage. However, as they walked past the Great Hall, Roveric - the younger student Hermione had punished before - saw them walking, arm in arm. His eyes grew wide, particularly as he saw their hands twined together, and he ran off. “Ugh,” Hermione said, “that one’s a troublemaker.” “Never mind him,” Snape said loudly, his voice nearly delirious, “I’m walking with the most beautiful witch in the castle.” “Shh,” she said, but the damage was done. As it happened, Irma Pince showed up, looking even more anemic and thin than Hermione had ever seen her. “What are *you* doing?” she said crisply to the two of them. “What do you think?” scowled Snape, grasping Hermione possessively, “We’re going to bed each other.” “Heavens!” the old witch said with an icy voice, “the scribblers get their just deserts at last. You two deserve each other,” she snapped, “both of you, who could never respect a *single* library book by letting it speak for itself! Scribbles - SCRIBBLES in the margins,” she said, hissing. “How will you like it when life *scribbles* all over you, eh?” she said, and stalked away moodily. Hermione and Snape, so out of it as it was, looked at each other and burst into laughter. “Okay,” Hermione said, nearly choking on her own saliva, “I’m so glad to know I’m not the only one she hates.” “Somehow,” he said in response, “I had no idea there was a staffmember who hated you, aside from me.” “What?” Hermione said, becoming sober all of a sudden. “You hated me?” “-not quite the right word,” Snape said, taking a deep breath. “Found your prodigious skills overrated because you’re a Gryffindor, yes. I got very vociferous in staff meetings telling heads of houses precisely which students of theirs were just as good as you, though granted I was guilty of just a little bit of exaggeration. I had a reputation for dismissing you, actually,” he said, and he seemed taken aback by what he was saying. “Oh. Erm. Well.” She turned to him with ice in her eyes. “You actively made my life harder?” she said. “It wasn’t personal,” he said with a shrug. “I appreciated you, but I wasn’t intimidated by you like most of the other professors on staff. And instead of giving you the credit you were due, I thought it was a good idea to highlight the skills of others who were being overlooked because you outshone them so greatly.” Hermione shook her head. “Let’s talk about this some other time,” she said, “I’m too loopy to think about it.” “That’s fine,” he said, and added, as they continued walking to the staff wing, “I don’t expect you to understand me or forgive me. I’ve been an absolute arse to you most of your life.” “Well,” Hermione said, reflecting for several moments, “I guess I expect you to make it up to me as best you can, now.” They arrived at her bedroom, and Hermione unlocked the door and let them both in. Neither delayed in taking off their clothes and curling up in bed. Hermione only paused to throw some sparks in the fire with her wand, and they both lay down together with the roar of the warm fire to light their path to the bed. Snape lay down and wrapped his arms protectively around Hermione, and laid his face in the nape of her neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m such a damnable fool.” She grabbed his hands and put them on top of her growing belly, not saying anything. They lay this way for several moments, and then Hermione noticed Snape was shaking - not pleasurably, but uncontrolledly, with great heaving painful breaths. Then she noticed her skin feeling hot drops of wetness at the back of her neck, then slowly rolling down her back. Snape was crying. Flat-out crying. Silently, holding in his sobs, crying. She turned around immediately, and wrapped her arms around him, and rocked slightly. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “let it out.” He shook his head with a shivering gesture, and Hermione grabbed her wand and cast a brief muffilato spell so that in case any of the neighbors were around, they wouldn’t hear. “It’s all right,” she whispered again, “Everything’s all right. Don’t be afraid to cry. It’s okay.” And then, only then, did he allow himself to sob openly. He took great shuddering breaths, burying his face in her soft shoulder, and the emotional pain was tangible. Hermione just stroked his hair, full of sadness herself, but also puzzled. What had brought on this? Was he just overwhelmed, or was there something more going on? Once he’d gotten out much of the physical elements of his crying, she kissed his forehead and whispered, “Severus? What’s going on in your head?” This brought on another round of sobs, and he wrapped himself more tightly around her. “Come on,” she whispered, grasping him tightly in return, “talk to me.” “I…” he tried to say, but stumbled over his words. “I… I just have an unconscious drive to self-destruct whenever I’m happy for a moment,” he finally managed to breathe out. “Nothing good can stay. If it’s staying longer than expected, I try and destroy it. If someone good is in my life, I try and distance myself. Because I don’t deserve good things,” he said with a sob, his face pinned against her with the salt of his tears, which still flowed down. “I can’t fucking let myself be happy.” “It’s okay,” Hermione said, kissing him tenderly again, “don’t pressure yourself into feeling happy if you’re not happy. And if you’re happy but struggling to remain so, it’s all right. You’re all right. You haven’t destroyed anything.” “But… I have,” he whimpered, and he kept on crying. “What have you destroyed?” Hermione asked gently, but he couldn’t respond. He just couldn’t stop crying, his body was convulsing with sobs and there seemed to be no end to them. “It’s okay,” she whispered over and over again, and finally, peacefully, his crying slowed to a low, murmuring, whimper, with the occasional staccato of a sob. “Shhh,” she whispered, “it’s all right.” She realized the conversation was over when he finally seemed to have fallen asleep. It was mysterious, she thought, as she looked at the beautiful large man with his arms around her, but one that she could explore in the morning. She closed her own eyes and, rocking him gently still, let herself fall asleep.