Snape x Reader: Pumpkin Pasties

Severus Snape had never been a man who enjoyed sweets. In fact, more often than not, he was disgusted by the very thought of them. Nasty, sticky, sugary messes. Their only use: making children hyper and helping indulgent fools have the opportunity to give into vices of a gluttonous nature. One might as well have been an animal rutting around, then imbibe such foul and worthless confections. (A sentiment that the Professor stood by faithfully no matter what arguments were offered.) So as one might suspect, the Potion’s Master was known for hating Halloween as well.

Most of the pupils of the stoic professor found this to be ironic, seeing as the man often acted the part of a ghoul from beyond the grave. With his deep drawling voice and avid addiction for dishing out uncalled for detentions, he was often mistaken for such. But Professor Snape wasn’t one to go with the grain, so the children’s assumptions were confronted with sarcasm and an assigned essay on the physical dangers and illnesses caused by sugar.

This exceedingly boring topic was met with absolute despair, but when the students found that the assignment couldn’t be fought, they turned to their only other option. Clambering in droves, they moved to the blessed halls of the library to research the depressing subject before it was too late. Each youth scrambling for the muggle and mythical texts on sugar induced maladies, as the time drew closer for their essays to be turned in . . . And all the while, an overly amused librarian watched them, happily finding herself in need of something sweet.

It had been a long day and Severus was quite relieved that it was over. Between the overly festive atmosphere of the castle and more than a few idiotic pupils, the Potion’s Master had more than reached his limit. So as the curfew bell announced the hour, Snape sat down within the confines of his private living chambers and pulled out the newest edition of Potions Weekly. He had been looking forward to reading it all day and instantly immersed himself in the informational text . . . Though as the minutes ticked by, the man grew distracted and found that his attention was divided. There were no strange sounds or sights to disturb him, but his senses tingled despite his best efforts to ignore the intrusion.

The nameless interference wafted through the room; pleasant and airy, and Severus found himself setting the paper down and following the perplexing smell . . . And to his surprise, it led him straight into his kitchen.

Though the kitchens of Hogwarts were legendary in size and aptitude, it was a little known fact that each of the school’s teachers possessed their own private kitchenette. Severus rarely used the cooking equipment housed in his quarters. With the exception of the odd cup of tea, the man kept his distance from the room altogether. . . Though as he now entered into the brightly lit gallery, he could tell that someone had remedied his neglectful nature.

The counters, usually pristine, were jam-packed with ingredients of all sorts- some muggle and others magical- and the oven currently radiated warmth as a pleasant little timer clicked away in the corner. But it was the person who stood in the midst of it all that made the Potion’s Master pause in his pursuit of the intruding smell.

She was covered in flour from head to toe and had the largest smile that he had ever seen her wear. Apart from the day she had married him, more than two years prior. Mrs. (F/n) Snape the Librarian of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was baking, and her husband couldn’t have been more confused.

“(F/n),” he drawled quizzically from the doorway, making the woman jump and squeak in surprise before turning to look at him. “What in the name of Merlin’s Beard are you doing?”

After a brief moment of recovery- from being scared nearly to death- said librarian answered him with a question of her own.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Don’t play coy with me, woman,” he interjected, though his eyes only held curiosity. In all the time they had been married, she had never been so engulfed in the kitchen, nor cooked as passionately as she did now. And Snape aimed to find out what had changed her outlook so much. “What are you up to at this late hour of the night?”

The witch’s smile grew even larger than before as she reached out to grab something off a plate that had been sitting on the countertop. She did this fast enough that her husband couldn’t see what the item actually was, though his unease grew to an incredible height.

“I’m baking, Severus. And I must say you’re just in time: I need a taster for my newest batch.”

Snape immediately shook his head in refusal. “I am afraid you will have to find someone else to taste your concoction, (F/n). I don’t consume anything that is made with this time of year in mind.”

While Severus had been speaking, his wife had come to stand directly before him, munching on the thing in her hand (a pastry of some sort) with a twinkle in her (e/c) eyes.

“You’ve obviously never tried my Halloween sweets, love.”

“And I don’t plan to,” Severus quipped, but in a breath (F/n) cut him off as she planted her lips against his. Quite effectively silencing her husband before he could protest further.

For several seconds, Snape didn’t know what to do, before his dark eyes widened considerably and he kissed her back. Though the man truly enjoyed his wife’s kisses (not that he was ever verbal about the fact) the Potion’s Master had never experienced one quite like this. (F/n)’s lips were soft and inviting as always, but added to the already melting mix was the enthralling taste of . . . pumpkin? . . . At first it was subtle. Only hinted at upon the tip of his tongue. . . Then the full tang of sweetness was exploding in his mouth and the scent from earlier was identified with the absolute bliss of the delicious delicacy.  It was without a doubt one of the best things he had ever tasted.

When (F/n) finally drew away from him a moment later, the wizard found himself rather annoyed as he was met by a smug look from his other half.

“What’s the verdict, Professor?” She teased him with a laugh, as he unceremoniously snatched the remaining bit of pastry from her hand. “Does my pumpkin pastie meet your expectations?”

“I cannot say . . . without the proper research I must refrain from answering,” he drawled truthfully, giving her a smirk as he brought her back to him.

(F/n) beamed as she unhurriedly peppered his face with kisses before letting her lips meet his again.

“Then by all means, Severus, experiment and find your hypothesis.”

* * *

In the countless years that Severus Snape resided at Hogwarts, it became a well-known fact amongst his students that he had an affinity for pumpkin sweets. And each Halloween like clockwork, the Potion’s Master could be found in the dungeons, a menacing scowl etched on his face and a homemade pumpkin pastie in his hand. And though he never had a shining for the holiday, it was clear to everyone that he thoroughly enjoyed the sweets.