A Treat (Snape)
In the cozy kitchen of a modest home at the edge of Hogsmeade the Snape's shared a celebratory glass of wine. They were a curious sight this evening, considering their appearance and last minute change to their plans. Courtesy of a black envelope from Erica’s primary employer requesting their services in Iceland, they were unable to spend the holidays in America with Erica’s family. Jet-lagged and covered in bruises (both physical and to their egos), they were determined to make the most of their first Christmas together (sans their eternal pest, undoubtably wreaking havoc with Peeves back at the castle) as a married couple.
Erica dressed in an oversized sweater and leggings, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, offered a lazy smile over the rim of her glass. “At least we don’t have to spend Christmas in a hotel.”
“Indeed,” Severus murmured, surveying the black eye his wife now sported. It’d need a dab of bruise paste. He fared no better, having earned a sprained ankle whilst chasing their target. And as much as he relished the idea of a quiet Christmas just the two of them, Severus knew Erica felt a tinge of disappointment.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home? There’s still time to secure a Portkey.”
“You really wanna re-pack, deal with the Ministry the night before they close for the holidays, then try to explain to ma why we look like we went ten rounds with Mike Tyson?”
Severus couldn’t control the sneer tugging at his features. Frankly, he’s rather crucio himself in the crotch than deal with ill-tempered Ministry cogs. But even the prospect of prostrating himself at the Ministry’s mercy to assure Erica’s happiness would be worth it. He didn’t have to read her thoughts to know this last minute change of plans stung. Sighing, he offered a possible last-ditch solution.
“I don’t have to tell you that with my…status,” fuck, the word tasted slimy on his tongue. “Our request will be granted.”
The pretentious declaration drew an amused snort from Erica. “Did you really just play the war hero card? Damn, you must really love me.”
Rolling his eyes at the astute observation, Severus leaned against the counter to alleviate his throbbing ankle and crossed his arms.
“Obviously.”
“Appreciate the offer, but nah. We’ll do our own thing this year.” Burrowing under his arm, Erica helped him limp towards the sofa with a grin. “You’re stuck with me and only me for the next couple weeks.”
“I’m absolutely devastated we’ll miss out on sharing a house with ten other people and your nephew’s daily wake up calls,” Severus grunted, hobbling the last few steps before collapsing on the couch. “His banging of the pots and pans especially.”
“He and Rebecca love their Uncle Severus,” Erica teased, well accustomed to their shenanigans. Where’d Severus think they learned it? “They’ll miss us and I’m sure as hell gonna miss seeing them this year, but I’m actually kinda excited about it being just us. So stop worrying.”
Settling back against the leather seat back, Severus side eyed her, his expression stoic. “You do realize that until recently, my holidays away from the castle have never been particularly merry?”
A hint of vulnerability hid beneath the seemingly bland observation, one that made Erica’s heart ache. But Severus wasn’t looking for sympathy. In his own way, it was a preemptive apology for their lackluster holiday for which they were woefully unprepared.
“I’m sure they won’t mind adding two more seats at the castle,” Erica suggested impishly, well aware Severus would agree to no such thing. “Or we can forge our own path.”
Severus found her hand, bringing her bruised knuckles to his lips, and sighed. “May I make a request?”
“Anything.” Erica grinned earnestly. “Though you aren’t getting out of watching the Christmas classics with me.”
Exhaustion set in, the adrenaline of the past few days finally catching up with Severus. No, he wasn’t completely opposed to a movie night on the couch even if the plots were unrealistic. Bad Santa proved entertaining, though he wasn’t sure he could bear sitting through Love Actually again as Erica glared at him as if he was the fool who cheated on his wife.
“No matching pajamas this year.”
With their injuries healed and paperwork done, the Snape’s were finally able to relax and enjoy their holiday. Holed away in his home office, Severus reviewed a potions textbook he hoped to have published soon. Not for financial gain, purely for vanity’s sake.
Rolling his neck, Severus decided a spot of tea was needed. He entered the kitchen and was met with the sight of Erica with an obscene number of grocery bags in hand. Most of the bags contained the typical accoutrements for a Christmas feast, but there was no way they needed that much for dinner. Arching an eyebrow, he asked, “You aren’t pregnant, are you?”
“Hell no,” Erica laughed. “Could you even imagine?”
Amid his mental tally of reasons why children would be a terrible idea and trying to puzzle how Erica would handle waddling through the halls, he remained a dutiful husband and assisted in putting groceries away.
“While I got ya in here, wanna help me?”
“With what?”
“Christmas cookies, duh!”
Skeptically gazing at the flour, chocolate, and sugars in more variations than he thought possible, Severus furrowed his brow. While not immune to the occasional morsel of dark chocolate, this was revolting overkill. A collection of misshapen metal rings caught his eye. Dangling the one that looked like a lightbulb, he shot a questioning gaze Eric’s way.
“Don’t put those away.” Fuck, her joy was palatable. “We’ll need them soon.”
“And pray tell, for what purpose?”
Gently collecting the contraption from him, Erica rotated it and informed him of its use. “One, it’s a snow man. And two, it’s a cookie cutter.”
“Naturally,” Severus scoffed, eying the other cookie cutters, trying to envision their proper shape. He picked up the only one he could confidently identify. “And I assume we’ll be coloring these trees.”
“And the stars, angels, and snowmen,” Erica chuckled, already tying an apron around her waist. He cast one last look at the counter full of ingredients, trying and failing to hide his smile.
Christmas music hummed in the background, cinnamon and cloves complementing the Yuletide ambiance. Snape measured the sugar as carefully as he would for any potion. Despite his reputation, Severus Snape was a decent cook. Not only was it a necessary domestic skill far too many wizards neglected to learn, he quite enjoyed it. At least after the Dark Lord’s demise. Far too often he wallowed in Spinner’s End, chewing on flavorless meats from questionable establishments awaiting a summons followed by decadent meals that didn’t agree with his anxious stomach.
Now life was better, more consistent, and his diet reflected it. This bit of indulgence was for Erica’s benefit and while he’d sneak a gingerbread cookie here and there, he didn’t have near her sweet-tooth. Baking wasn’t so different from potions. Both required fine attention to detail to maximize their respective properties. What she intended to do with the extras was anybody’s guess.
Occasionally he snuck a glance at Erica, curious how flour had migrated from her hands to her hair. Magic, he supposed.
“It’s called enthusiasm,” she retorted, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Something you’re sorely lacking right now.”
Quick as a flash she wiped a hand across the front of his shirt, streaks of white flour leaving a fine white print against the dark fabric.
“I am perfectly capable of enthusiasm.” He flicked his gaze to his shirt, already planning his revenge. Diligently kneading the dough with slow deliberate motions, he continued. “For the right price.”
Whether he knew it or not, he’d just issued an attractive challenge his wife couldn’t pass up. Leaning in, her lips at the shell of his ear, Erica returned fire. “Then show me.”
A million lewd thoughts flit through his mind, but Severus resisted temptation and showing his amusement.
“Very well,” he intoned, slowly covering his hands in flour under the guise of continuing his task. The moment Erica returned to hers, he snaked his arms around her to grab her ass.
Gasping in mock outrage, Erica leapt back to inspect the damage. Two large white handprints found their mark, the excess already dusting the floor. They’d made a mess in the kitchen, but Snape couldn’t bring himself to care, too preoccupied with the sight of his handprints decorating his wife, better than any holiday treat. Arousal flooded his veins.
They stared at each other a moment, close enough to feel each other’s warmth.
“Well, if that’s how you want to play it,” Erica murmured, tilting her face up towards him. The desire dancing her eyes held him captive, allowing her to drag a streak of green icing down his cheek.
“You do realize,” Severus rumbled softly, catching her icing-covered hand. “This means war.”
“That’s a lotta talk—”
Her words were interrupted by Severus sticking her finger in his mouth. He wasn’t particularly a fan of sweet treats, but Erica’s surprised, but incredibly aroused, expression as he licked the sugar from her fingers was nothing short of exquisite. He’d done the impossible, stunned his wife into silence.
Growling he lifted her to the counter, bowls of various sugary substances flying. Erica immediately left handprints of her own as she tugged the shirt from Severus’ shoulders.
He wasn’t quite sure how a smear of chocolate ended up on her neck, but he chased the trail with his lips down to her collarbone, discovering a new appreciation for this new tradition.
“Severus,” Erica moaned, raking her fingernails through his scalp. Her hands were everywhere, painting streaks of green and red icing down his back, up his chest, and the waistband of his trousers. Every brush against his still covered length drove Severus mad.
Impatient to have her, Severus flicked his wrist, vanishing the rest of the barriers between them. Never mind this was where they cooked their meals. Somehow that only made it hotter. Grunting, he yanked her to the edge and took his rightful place between her legs.
Not a complete animal, Severus gave Erica a chance to say no. He’d respect her decision, no questions asked. But Erica stared up at him with hooded eyes in a silent plea. Gripping her hips, he slid home in one smooth stroke.
A strangled groan escaped his throat, this release far sweeter than any ambrosia. Erica’s legs wrapped around his waist, inhibiting some of his movements, but fuck, the angle was delicious, eliciting those magic moans from Erica that never failed to drive him wild.
Leaning over, he framed Erica’s head with his arms and, his lips finding hers. She tasted of chocolate, cinnamon, and sugar. Soon their breaths grew ragged, the telltale sign of their climax approaching. Erica clenched around him and a few jerky thrusts later, he followed her over the edge.
Save for the Christmas music faintly playing in the background and the hum of the oven, the only other sounds in the kitchen were their breathless pants. Lifting his head from Erica’s shoulder, he was greeted with the sight of his wild wife, her hair appropriately mussed given their impromptu cardio session, and her face covered in Christmas themed war paint.
“You look like you just tried to rob Honeydukes,” Erica chuckled, shuffling off the counter into his arms.
“Nude?” Severus scoffed, surveying the mess they made in the kitchen and on each other. Fortunately their baked goods didn’t suffer during their tryst.
Smiling, he moved out of the way as Erica bent over to remove the fruit of their labor from the oven, naked as the day she was born and not a care in the world.
“Perhaps this wasn’t as silly as I originally anticipated,” Severus conceded, his tender tone at odds with his equally ridiculous appearance. Running a hand through his hair, he discovered a large amount of red frosting already caking.
“You almost got a sweet mohawk,” Erica smiled, wrapping her arms around him for a soft kiss. “Was this enough incentive to buy your cooperation for help decorating them?”
“Perhaps,” Severus drawled, brushing a bit of crusted dough from her shoulder. “But first a shower and another round in bed so I may ravish you properly.”