Buttons!
Snape's buttons. Every Snape fangirl loves them. No one is more in need of a good unbuttoning than our beloved Potions Master. Come on, Hermione. Loosen up his buttons, baby!
Thanks to pokeystar for suggesting this wonderful theme.
This week's quiz was chosen by borg_princess. You can thank her later!
Do you want the chance to pick next week's quiz theme? Just play the quiz by commenting with your answers at any time before the answers post on Monday, Eastern Standard Time. Comments will be screened until the Answers are posted. We'll draw a winner from all those with the correct answers. You could win!
Match the quote to the story title. Watch out for those tricky red herring titles!
Cute as a Button by tarah_fae
The 'Just Call Me G' Series by duniazade
A Cache of Drabbles by closetravenclaw
Counting Buttons by warded_portal
Guard... Check... Mate by bambu345
Seventy Hundred Shiny Black Buttons by pokeystar
Lavender by persevero
Numb by firefly_124
A Walking Shadow by ariadne1
The Potion's Storeroom by Cormak
Your Faithful Dissenter by lulabelle72
Bottle (Severus) by justjeanette
1. When she was certain that all was accounted for, she stuck her head into his office. "Sir, I'm quitting for the night. You'll be happy to know that..." Her voice trailed off as she realized he wasn't seated behind his desk.
His tea still steamed in its mug, his coat was draped over the back of the chair instead of hung on the hook, and his glasses were tucked into the seam of his book. She stood at the front of his desk, her fingertips resting on the ancient wood, just looking at the empty spot he was supposed to be filling.
As it had countless times before, the black frock coat drew her eyes. How such a simple garment could trap and keep her attention wasn't as much a mystery as she might like to suppose. It wasn't the softness of the wool, nor the contents of its pockets, which did inspire her curiosity. It wasn't even line of buttons that marked the front and the sleeves, the buttons she had counted over and over again, trying to distract herself from the gravelled treacle of his voice as he lectured.
No, it was much simpler than that. It smelled like him.
2. The fourth button, which had contained an anti-vampire garlic mini-bomb, was filled with concentrated Firewhisky. The fifth, a Portkey to the Ministry, directed now to a beach hotel in the Bahamas. The sixth, instead of the complete aphorisms of Albus Dumbledore, hid a cyanure sherbet lemon.
“…though,” she continued, “if you have serious objections, an exception could be granted. You will just need to fill in a request. Seven copies on the A-352 form, only forty-two pages per copy.”
Snape’s silence was eloquent.
“I see that we have reached an understanding, Agent S. We shall do this by the book.”
3. The tip of the wand touched the collar of his robes. “We have ways of making you talk, Mr. Snape,” she said in a low voice.
Considering Severus’ not-too-distant past, that might have made him very uncomfortable.
Instead, the glide of heat he felt beginning in his chest only compounded when his collar released.
“Is that so, Miss Granger?” he murmured.
The first few buttons gave way with ridiculous ease. The next few followed suit, then four more - and Hermione’s eyes never left his. When she reached his navel, she paused to thread her fingers up through the silky black hair running in a fine line down the center of his abdomen. Her knuckles brushed through the slightly thicker hair over his chest and then grazed back down before stopping at the buttons that held his robes shut below the waist. He tilted his hips upwards, straining to touch her, to make her touch him.
Shaking her head, she backed away, and the wand passed down the front of her own robes, buttons liberated from buttonholes with a series of faint pops.
She rolled her shoulders, and the entire thing fell to the floor.
4. Hermione moped around after Crookshanks died, but never mentioned getting another familiar. Severus thought this was probably due to him; there was no love lost between him and that fur-ball.
But because he loved Hermione, he spent the next several months looking for another half-kneazle. He surprised Hermione with a gray female. Severus noticed over the next few weeks, though, that Hermione just called it “cat” or “kitty.”
One evening, he heard Hermione calling, “Buttons, Buttons…”
He approached her. “Have you finally named your new familiar, then?”
“Yes.”
“Why Buttons?”
“I take it you haven’t seen your dress robes lately?”
5. “Oh, Daddy! Look!” She was on tiptoe in her pink sandals, running her hands wonderingly through a tray of mixed buttons in front of Madame Malkin’s.
“Aurelia… we are late. Come along now.” Her face fell. She cast a longing gaze at the cacophony of shiny plastic and glass buttons, but went to take his hand again.
The witch that had been standing in the doorway came forward and filled a small brown paper packet with a handful of buttons. “Here you go, little miss.” She smiled as she held the packet out to Aurelia. Aurelia shot a glance up at her father, as if asking him if it was all right to take the proffered gift.
Severus sighed and nodded. “What do you say, Aurelia?”
“Thank you!” Aurelia chimed as she happily rattled the buttons around in their paper container.
“You are very welcome, little miss.”
“How much do I owe you?” he asked the saleswitch, reaching for his coin pouch.
“For such a sweet child, nothing,” she replied airily, ruffling Aurelia’s brown curls before disappearing into the clothing shop again.
6. “Just get on with it, will you?” he snarled from where he lay face-down on the bed that Molly had Transfigured from his threadbare sofa so that he would not need to be moved up and down the stairs. “You knew what you were signing on for, did you not?”
As she sniffed, lifted the hem of his shirt, and used another Sartorial Charm on the back of his trousers and pants, he felt the fresh air touch his skin. He winced in embarrassment as he felt her begin to trace the Potion onto the lines that led from his spine down his leg. He supposed he was fortunate that only the major nerve pathways were treated this way for an injury such as his, else it would take her hours just to complete this step. As it was, the process took nearly fifteen minutes, every second of which seemed pure agony as he tried to ignore the fact that this was Potter’s little friend tracing the Potion onto his back, his arse, his leg, and his foot.
When she was done, she used another Charm to button his clothes back up. He could only imagine how ridiculous they must look with this new addition. Still, it was preferable to disrobing as all the others had insisted he do.
“And just how do you expect me to sit down on these infernal things later?” he demanded.
“I’ve added a Cushioning Charm along the inside. You shouldn’t even know they’re there,” she replied, seemingly unruffled. “I could have just used a Slicing Hex and then a Mending Charm, but you can’t just keep using those over and over on the same clothes unless you want them falling to bits. This way, we do it once, even if it’s on a few of your shirts and trousers, and then fix them once you don’t need them to be like that anymore, and they should be fine.”
“We shall see,” he muttered, not willing to concede anything until he’d tested her supposed Cushioning Charm.
7. Now that he was more-or-less on her level, he ceased to be a black silhouette and she was able to see his features. She gazed on them affectionately - the sharp nose, lined brow and black eyes that she had missed, the last few weeks. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t beat a hasty retreat, yourself.’
‘So am I,’ he echoed. He reached a hand over her shoulder, closed her book and set it down beyond the cushion, before running his fingers gently down her upper arm. The blood sang in Hermione’s ears, and she was once again aware of the scents of lavender and hot stone, a more complex herbal smell from Severus’s clothing, and a little of her own sweat. He drew his arm back and she felt a rush of disappointment, but he was pulling off of his jacket. She sat up at last, and extended a tentative hand towards the top button of his waistcoat. He tucked down his chin, and pressed his mouth onto the side of her hand. Gods! She started to undo the small, shiny buttons, counting silently. One, two, three, four. His breathing was deepening. Five, six, seven. The bottom button was not done up, for which she was grateful - she couldn’t have touched it without brushing her hand over his trouser placket. Not that she intended to steer clear of that region for long.
8. Her eyes not leaving his, she reached out and ran a finger up his coat buttons. Soft. "Which button first, Severus?” She smiled wistfully. “There are so many. This one?” She slid her finger down a few. “Or… this one?” She glanced up at him.
He was still watching her face.
“Or…” Her finger reached the button at his waist. “This one?”
His eyes dropped to her finger.
They both thought, Please.
As her finger traced the outline of the button, she pressed her other hand gently on his face, lightly brushing it down his neck, smoothing it with firmer pressure down his chest, under his cloak, to his hip.
For one breathless heartbeat, neither moved.
He spoke roughly. “What game are you playing, Hermione?”
She smiled up at him and slowly closed her fingers around her wand, drawing it out of his pocket. “Which one? There are so many.”
A low, throaty chuckle. “Forgive me, but -” One hand closed around her wand hand, splinters scratching her skin, digging further into his. “If you turn me in, I will receive the Dementor’s Kiss by morning. That is not the only kiss I have dreamed about, Hermione.” He gently took her face in his hand, rubbing his thumb along her cheek.
Her breath came faster.
“I won't risk one for the other. No matter how tempting. Give me your wand.”
9. She began to fumble with the buttons of his wool coat, her hands trembling.
"Far too many buttons…" she joked, her voice quivering.
"Indeed." His voice shook just as much as hers. He released her face to kiss her mouth, covered her hands with his, and in between kisses they undid each and every button from his neck to his navel. She helped him shrug the coat off his shoulders, and then down his arms until it pooled on the floor like black ink.
She stopped to look at him for a moment, her head cocked to one side.
"What is it?" he asked softly. For a moment, he feared she would come to her senses this time and shove him away to run screaming down the halls how the Great Bat had seduced her and tried to get into her knickers. Severus, you're a fool, a voice within him taunted.
"It's so strange to see you in white," she admitted softly. She brushed her hands over the fabric, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin.
Snape shivered despite the warm temperature of the room.
"We will have to fix that problem." He began to undo each button. Hermione didn’t take her eyes off his hands as they worked. Mesmerized, she removed her jumper and let it drop to the floor without thought.
As Snape reached the last button, Hermione moved one hand forward and pushed the fabric aside from his neck and collarbone. She slid her hand between the fabric and his skin, and Snape closed his eyes as she explored slowly.
10. Snape’s fingers fumbled on his frock coat, losing count. The stench of decay and blood filled his nostrils. He was panting and screaming, his blood bubbling, each breath was unrelieved pain.
Top button… it burns… it burns…
Second button… it is over… I will never find the cottage…
Third button… I will never go home...
Searing agony, lungs on fire.
Fourth button… kill him, Potter…
“Aha! I have it!” The cold voice crowed in triumph. “’The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.’ My faithful, we have the location, we have the element of surprise. Wormtail, your arm. It is time to summon the remaining members of our flock. We will take Dumbledore and his sycophants in their sleep!”
Voldemort kicked Snape in the ribs. The splintering of bones couldn’t be heard over Snape’s cries. “I have no need of you!”
Fifth button…. Breathe…
Just two more minutes… I will miss you, Hermione… I have saved something precious.
Sixth button… It was worth my life.
The shrill, cold voice began the final incantation that would end Snape’s agony… “Avada Ked…”
Snape’s fingers found the seventh button and, amidst the fiery torture his internal organs were suffering, verging at the point where the proteins which formed his cellular structure were denatured, he felt the tug behind his navel, and then darkness consumed him.
Thanks to pokeystar for suggesting this wonderful theme.
This week's quiz was chosen by borg_princess. You can thank her later!
Do you want the chance to pick next week's quiz theme? Just play the quiz by commenting with your answers at any time before the answers post on Monday, Eastern Standard Time. Comments will be screened until the Answers are posted. We'll draw a winner from all those with the correct answers. You could win!
Match the quote to the story title. Watch out for those tricky red herring titles!
Cute as a Button by tarah_fae
The 'Just Call Me G' Series by duniazade
A Cache of Drabbles by closetravenclaw
Counting Buttons by warded_portal
Guard... Check... Mate by bambu345
Seventy Hundred Shiny Black Buttons by pokeystar
Lavender by persevero
Numb by firefly_124
A Walking Shadow by ariadne1
The Potion's Storeroom by Cormak
Your Faithful Dissenter by lulabelle72
Bottle (Severus) by justjeanette
1. When she was certain that all was accounted for, she stuck her head into his office. "Sir, I'm quitting for the night. You'll be happy to know that..." Her voice trailed off as she realized he wasn't seated behind his desk.
His tea still steamed in its mug, his coat was draped over the back of the chair instead of hung on the hook, and his glasses were tucked into the seam of his book. She stood at the front of his desk, her fingertips resting on the ancient wood, just looking at the empty spot he was supposed to be filling.
As it had countless times before, the black frock coat drew her eyes. How such a simple garment could trap and keep her attention wasn't as much a mystery as she might like to suppose. It wasn't the softness of the wool, nor the contents of its pockets, which did inspire her curiosity. It wasn't even line of buttons that marked the front and the sleeves, the buttons she had counted over and over again, trying to distract herself from the gravelled treacle of his voice as he lectured.
No, it was much simpler than that. It smelled like him.
2. The fourth button, which had contained an anti-vampire garlic mini-bomb, was filled with concentrated Firewhisky. The fifth, a Portkey to the Ministry, directed now to a beach hotel in the Bahamas. The sixth, instead of the complete aphorisms of Albus Dumbledore, hid a cyanure sherbet lemon.
“…though,” she continued, “if you have serious objections, an exception could be granted. You will just need to fill in a request. Seven copies on the A-352 form, only forty-two pages per copy.”
Snape’s silence was eloquent.
“I see that we have reached an understanding, Agent S. We shall do this by the book.”
3. The tip of the wand touched the collar of his robes. “We have ways of making you talk, Mr. Snape,” she said in a low voice.
Considering Severus’ not-too-distant past, that might have made him very uncomfortable.
Instead, the glide of heat he felt beginning in his chest only compounded when his collar released.
“Is that so, Miss Granger?” he murmured.
The first few buttons gave way with ridiculous ease. The next few followed suit, then four more - and Hermione’s eyes never left his. When she reached his navel, she paused to thread her fingers up through the silky black hair running in a fine line down the center of his abdomen. Her knuckles brushed through the slightly thicker hair over his chest and then grazed back down before stopping at the buttons that held his robes shut below the waist. He tilted his hips upwards, straining to touch her, to make her touch him.
Shaking her head, she backed away, and the wand passed down the front of her own robes, buttons liberated from buttonholes with a series of faint pops.
She rolled her shoulders, and the entire thing fell to the floor.
4. Hermione moped around after Crookshanks died, but never mentioned getting another familiar. Severus thought this was probably due to him; there was no love lost between him and that fur-ball.
But because he loved Hermione, he spent the next several months looking for another half-kneazle. He surprised Hermione with a gray female. Severus noticed over the next few weeks, though, that Hermione just called it “cat” or “kitty.”
One evening, he heard Hermione calling, “Buttons, Buttons…”
He approached her. “Have you finally named your new familiar, then?”
“Yes.”
“Why Buttons?”
“I take it you haven’t seen your dress robes lately?”
5. “Oh, Daddy! Look!” She was on tiptoe in her pink sandals, running her hands wonderingly through a tray of mixed buttons in front of Madame Malkin’s.
“Aurelia… we are late. Come along now.” Her face fell. She cast a longing gaze at the cacophony of shiny plastic and glass buttons, but went to take his hand again.
The witch that had been standing in the doorway came forward and filled a small brown paper packet with a handful of buttons. “Here you go, little miss.” She smiled as she held the packet out to Aurelia. Aurelia shot a glance up at her father, as if asking him if it was all right to take the proffered gift.
Severus sighed and nodded. “What do you say, Aurelia?”
“Thank you!” Aurelia chimed as she happily rattled the buttons around in their paper container.
“You are very welcome, little miss.”
“How much do I owe you?” he asked the saleswitch, reaching for his coin pouch.
“For such a sweet child, nothing,” she replied airily, ruffling Aurelia’s brown curls before disappearing into the clothing shop again.
6. “Just get on with it, will you?” he snarled from where he lay face-down on the bed that Molly had Transfigured from his threadbare sofa so that he would not need to be moved up and down the stairs. “You knew what you were signing on for, did you not?”
As she sniffed, lifted the hem of his shirt, and used another Sartorial Charm on the back of his trousers and pants, he felt the fresh air touch his skin. He winced in embarrassment as he felt her begin to trace the Potion onto the lines that led from his spine down his leg. He supposed he was fortunate that only the major nerve pathways were treated this way for an injury such as his, else it would take her hours just to complete this step. As it was, the process took nearly fifteen minutes, every second of which seemed pure agony as he tried to ignore the fact that this was Potter’s little friend tracing the Potion onto his back, his arse, his leg, and his foot.
When she was done, she used another Charm to button his clothes back up. He could only imagine how ridiculous they must look with this new addition. Still, it was preferable to disrobing as all the others had insisted he do.
“And just how do you expect me to sit down on these infernal things later?” he demanded.
“I’ve added a Cushioning Charm along the inside. You shouldn’t even know they’re there,” she replied, seemingly unruffled. “I could have just used a Slicing Hex and then a Mending Charm, but you can’t just keep using those over and over on the same clothes unless you want them falling to bits. This way, we do it once, even if it’s on a few of your shirts and trousers, and then fix them once you don’t need them to be like that anymore, and they should be fine.”
“We shall see,” he muttered, not willing to concede anything until he’d tested her supposed Cushioning Charm.
7. Now that he was more-or-less on her level, he ceased to be a black silhouette and she was able to see his features. She gazed on them affectionately - the sharp nose, lined brow and black eyes that she had missed, the last few weeks. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t beat a hasty retreat, yourself.’
‘So am I,’ he echoed. He reached a hand over her shoulder, closed her book and set it down beyond the cushion, before running his fingers gently down her upper arm. The blood sang in Hermione’s ears, and she was once again aware of the scents of lavender and hot stone, a more complex herbal smell from Severus’s clothing, and a little of her own sweat. He drew his arm back and she felt a rush of disappointment, but he was pulling off of his jacket. She sat up at last, and extended a tentative hand towards the top button of his waistcoat. He tucked down his chin, and pressed his mouth onto the side of her hand. Gods! She started to undo the small, shiny buttons, counting silently. One, two, three, four. His breathing was deepening. Five, six, seven. The bottom button was not done up, for which she was grateful - she couldn’t have touched it without brushing her hand over his trouser placket. Not that she intended to steer clear of that region for long.
8. Her eyes not leaving his, she reached out and ran a finger up his coat buttons. Soft. "Which button first, Severus?” She smiled wistfully. “There are so many. This one?” She slid her finger down a few. “Or… this one?” She glanced up at him.
He was still watching her face.
“Or…” Her finger reached the button at his waist. “This one?”
His eyes dropped to her finger.
They both thought, Please.
As her finger traced the outline of the button, she pressed her other hand gently on his face, lightly brushing it down his neck, smoothing it with firmer pressure down his chest, under his cloak, to his hip.
For one breathless heartbeat, neither moved.
He spoke roughly. “What game are you playing, Hermione?”
She smiled up at him and slowly closed her fingers around her wand, drawing it out of his pocket. “Which one? There are so many.”
A low, throaty chuckle. “Forgive me, but -” One hand closed around her wand hand, splinters scratching her skin, digging further into his. “If you turn me in, I will receive the Dementor’s Kiss by morning. That is not the only kiss I have dreamed about, Hermione.” He gently took her face in his hand, rubbing his thumb along her cheek.
Her breath came faster.
“I won't risk one for the other. No matter how tempting. Give me your wand.”
9. She began to fumble with the buttons of his wool coat, her hands trembling.
"Far too many buttons…" she joked, her voice quivering.
"Indeed." His voice shook just as much as hers. He released her face to kiss her mouth, covered her hands with his, and in between kisses they undid each and every button from his neck to his navel. She helped him shrug the coat off his shoulders, and then down his arms until it pooled on the floor like black ink.
She stopped to look at him for a moment, her head cocked to one side.
"What is it?" he asked softly. For a moment, he feared she would come to her senses this time and shove him away to run screaming down the halls how the Great Bat had seduced her and tried to get into her knickers. Severus, you're a fool, a voice within him taunted.
"It's so strange to see you in white," she admitted softly. She brushed her hands over the fabric, feeling the warmth radiate from his skin.
Snape shivered despite the warm temperature of the room.
"We will have to fix that problem." He began to undo each button. Hermione didn’t take her eyes off his hands as they worked. Mesmerized, she removed her jumper and let it drop to the floor without thought.
As Snape reached the last button, Hermione moved one hand forward and pushed the fabric aside from his neck and collarbone. She slid her hand between the fabric and his skin, and Snape closed his eyes as she explored slowly.
10. Snape’s fingers fumbled on his frock coat, losing count. The stench of decay and blood filled his nostrils. He was panting and screaming, his blood bubbling, each breath was unrelieved pain.
Top button… it burns… it burns…
Second button… it is over… I will never find the cottage…
Third button… I will never go home...
Searing agony, lungs on fire.
Fourth button… kill him, Potter…
“Aha! I have it!” The cold voice crowed in triumph. “’The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.’ My faithful, we have the location, we have the element of surprise. Wormtail, your arm. It is time to summon the remaining members of our flock. We will take Dumbledore and his sycophants in their sleep!”
Voldemort kicked Snape in the ribs. The splintering of bones couldn’t be heard over Snape’s cries. “I have no need of you!”
Fifth button…. Breathe…
Just two more minutes… I will miss you, Hermione… I have saved something precious.
Sixth button… It was worth my life.
The shrill, cold voice began the final incantation that would end Snape’s agony… “Avada Ked…”
Snape’s fingers found the seventh button and, amidst the fiery torture his internal organs were suffering, verging at the point where the proteins which formed his cellular structure were denatured, he felt the tug behind his navel, and then darkness consumed him.