The Smell of Cinnamon
Title: The Smell of Cinnamon
Team: The Order, dahling
Word Count: 5 x 100
Challenge: What's in the Stocking?
Rating: PG
A/N: It's obviously Christmas-centric, and all that that implies. Here be happiness!
Hermione knelt to the ground to adjust the glistening red tree skirt. She put her hands down on the ground and looked up at the tree, admiring the sparkling white lights and various ornaments. She fingered a cloth doll hung on a lower branch, smiling.
“What are you doing, my dear?”
She let out a small shriek and turned around, bolting to her feet and running across the sitting room to the doorway. She leapt into her husband’s arms, smiling.
“Oh, Severus, you’re home! It has been far too long.” She clutched at his back and buried her face his coat, inhaling the smell of… cinnamon?
**
“Severus,” she started, leaning back from him. “Where have you been?”
“India for the past month, or so you told me when you sent me there.”
“No.” She leaned back into his coat to smell.
“Oh, no,” he said, gently pushing her away from his coat. He shrugged it off his shoulders and tossed it over the back of the plush sofa. “That is a smell for me to know and for you to find out.” He gave a smile; a cunning glint in his eye.
“Severus.” She put her hands on her hips. “Have you already bought me a Christmas gift?”
“Of course not. What man buys his wife a gift before Christmas Eve?”
**
She smirked at him, hands still on her hips. “Is it from India? And is it going under the tree or in my stocking?”
“No.” He shook his finger at her. “We are not playing twenty questions about smells that travel on my coat and what they may mean.”
“What’s going to be in my stocking, Severus? You would have removed the smell if you didn’t want me to find it.” She crossed her arms, doing her best to look as though she didn’t care that he’d been gone for a month and that she was in desperate need of a spar.
“Indeed.” He walked over to the center of the room, making his way around the tree, admiring the ornaments and lights.
**
“Who helped you decorate the house while I was gone?” he asked.
She chuckled. “As if your daughter is incapable of handing me ornaments. She is three years old, you know.” Hermione smacked her forehead. “Oh goodness, I let her go to the Weasleys, and I knew you were coming home today!”
“I stopped by the Burrow to see her,” Severus said, smiling but still staring at the tree. “She always goes on Tuesdays, and I thought you might forget.”
Hermione tilted her head, a grin spreading across her face. “She has missed you so much. She likes having you reading the bedtime stories, you know.”
**
“I know,” he said, slowly walking towards his wife, bridging the gap between them. He took a tendril of her hair; then placed both of his hands at her temples, running his hands through her hair. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation.
“I’ve missed you,” she murmured.
“Easily remedied,” he said softly, his lips descending to hers as he pulled her closer in a strong embrace.
She moaned slightly before pulling away.
“What’s in my stocking, Severus?” she asked with a wink.
“Insufferable woman,” he muttered, and pulled her back up to finish what he’d started.
Team: The Order, dahling
Word Count: 5 x 100
Challenge: What's in the Stocking?
Rating: PG
A/N: It's obviously Christmas-centric, and all that that implies. Here be happiness!
Hermione knelt to the ground to adjust the glistening red tree skirt. She put her hands down on the ground and looked up at the tree, admiring the sparkling white lights and various ornaments. She fingered a cloth doll hung on a lower branch, smiling.
“What are you doing, my dear?”
She let out a small shriek and turned around, bolting to her feet and running across the sitting room to the doorway. She leapt into her husband’s arms, smiling.
“Oh, Severus, you’re home! It has been far too long.” She clutched at his back and buried her face his coat, inhaling the smell of… cinnamon?
**
“Severus,” she started, leaning back from him. “Where have you been?”
“India for the past month, or so you told me when you sent me there.”
“No.” She leaned back into his coat to smell.
“Oh, no,” he said, gently pushing her away from his coat. He shrugged it off his shoulders and tossed it over the back of the plush sofa. “That is a smell for me to know and for you to find out.” He gave a smile; a cunning glint in his eye.
“Severus.” She put her hands on her hips. “Have you already bought me a Christmas gift?”
“Of course not. What man buys his wife a gift before Christmas Eve?”
**
She smirked at him, hands still on her hips. “Is it from India? And is it going under the tree or in my stocking?”
“No.” He shook his finger at her. “We are not playing twenty questions about smells that travel on my coat and what they may mean.”
“What’s going to be in my stocking, Severus? You would have removed the smell if you didn’t want me to find it.” She crossed her arms, doing her best to look as though she didn’t care that he’d been gone for a month and that she was in desperate need of a spar.
“Indeed.” He walked over to the center of the room, making his way around the tree, admiring the ornaments and lights.
**
“Who helped you decorate the house while I was gone?” he asked.
She chuckled. “As if your daughter is incapable of handing me ornaments. She is three years old, you know.” Hermione smacked her forehead. “Oh goodness, I let her go to the Weasleys, and I knew you were coming home today!”
“I stopped by the Burrow to see her,” Severus said, smiling but still staring at the tree. “She always goes on Tuesdays, and I thought you might forget.”
Hermione tilted her head, a grin spreading across her face. “She has missed you so much. She likes having you reading the bedtime stories, you know.”
**
“I know,” he said, slowly walking towards his wife, bridging the gap between them. He took a tendril of her hair; then placed both of his hands at her temples, running his hands through her hair. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation.
“I’ve missed you,” she murmured.
“Easily remedied,” he said softly, his lips descending to hers as he pulled her closer in a strong embrace.
She moaned slightly before pulling away.
“What’s in my stocking, Severus?” she asked with a wink.
“Insufferable woman,” he muttered, and pulled her back up to finish what he’d started.