Dog Days Are Done
Happiness
On Wednesday, Severus sent Granger to the library to research something obscure. He couldn't tolerate the girl. She hummed tuneless tunes and bobbed about the office like a buoy. Obviously, she was nervous and excited over her wedding, but her emotions were rather contagious, and Severus had gotten his fill of nervous during the war. Now, he wanted peace.
And sex.
It was a new discovery – one that hounded him. He'd thought for a while he might escape the inconveniencing trivialities of humanness, and had in fact reached numbness for a time. But something… This damned witch… had reawakened the wanting part of him, the needing, yearning, desiring element of lust.
An utter fucking nuisance. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Fucking… He sighed. If I get between her thighs again – No. He stood. Paced. Rubbed his hands together.
Life had been so simple for a time, so nice. He woke up, went to work, came home, brewed to his contentment, ate a quiet meal, fell into bed and slept til waking up again. But now…
Shouldn't have kissed her. Elven moonshine or not, I shouldn't have kissed her. But thinking of not kissing her made him think of kissing her, and thinking of kissing her made him wonder if he would kiss her again, and thinking of kissing her again made his trousers uncomfortably tight.
He flopped into the chair behind his desk. Shouldn't have kissed her.
On Wednesday, Narcissa lied to Andy about gathering mallow and took off into the forest behind the house. Truthfully, she just wanted to be alone. Her sister was smothering, and had an annoyingly self-satisfied look about her lately. Cissa found it unsettling. Also, there was terrible teasing afoot when the sisters were alone. And Andromeda lately delighted in teaching Teddy how to 'billow about,' much to Narcissa's chagrin.
Needless to say, the forest was a safe, quiet haven.
Sighing, she dropped into the shadow of a large oak, its gnarled roots cradling her. The midday sun filtered through the lush green canopy and warmed her face and shoulders. She closed her eyes.
Shouldn't have kissed him. The thought frustrated her. Because now all I want to do is kiss him. And…other things. She remembered the feel of his hand, demanding and eager on her thigh; the brush of his fingers over her breast.
Her body responded to each memory and she hmphed. Stupid witch. What will I do about it now? What if he never comes back? If those eyes never look at me with that want again?
Nonsense. He would monitor his potion – his incredible creation. He would come back for Teddy, at least.
Oh, but if he gets between these thighs again… She shuddered.
On Thursday, Granger would not be thwarted by trips to the library. "There's something on your mind," she stated, glaring at him. "You're distracted. And snippy."
"Snippy?" He snipped. "Ridiculous."
She sat in the wingback across from his desk and sighed. "Is it the Malfoy witch?"
"What?" Granger calls her the Malfoy witch? I'm having this discussion with Granger? No. He rose from the desk. "This is not up for discussion."
"So it is her!" The chit looked happy. "I knew it. I told Harry –"
"You told Potter?" He towered over her menacingly.
"He told me first, remember?" She sighed, looking up at him in frustration. "Why not talk to her? She's available now. And probably a sight more approachable. And Harry says she's as fit as ever. He saw her out back tending the garden one afternoon and said if it wasn't for Ginny he'd –"
"Enough, Granger!" The last thing he needed was an image of Potter in the same position he'd been in himself days earlier… Gods above. Leaning on his desk, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm too bloody old for this."
Hermione chuckled. "I wouldn't say that. Just out of practice." He scowled at her and she grew serious. "You're both…sort of…wounded." When he made to override her, she held up a hand. "Please. Just listen. You think I'm an annoying chit who knows nothing. And maybe you're right. But I know something about love, at least. And I know you do, too. You just don't talk about it. And that's fine." She swallowed, looked away before continuing quietly. "But I don't know how much Narcissa Malfoy knows about love – other than what she feels for her son. I can't imagine her husband being overly affectionate. So be as mad as you want at me for speaking my mind, but know I think the two of you could be good for each other. And if nothing else…" She shrugged and looked back to his now solemn face. "Finding out could be fun." She smirked. "Now. I think I'll go and get some lunch. Can I bring you anything?"
He was gobsmacked. Shook his head as she bustled about, gathering her purse. "No. Thank you."
She paused at the door, took his seemingly simple thank you for what it truly was. "You're welcome. I'll be back later."
He sat back behind his desk thoughtful and strangely chastised. Damn girl…too bloody smart. He would see Narcissa at dinner on Friday no doubt. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to ask her to the damned wedding. The image of her at his dining table flashed in his mind's eye. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to ask her…to dinner.
Alone.
Away from Andromeda's frittery and Ted's nicety and Teddy's distraction… Just himself and the Malfoy witch.
Alone.
He thought of her hips and groaned.
On Thursday, Andromeda was incessant. She followed Narcissa into the garden. "I think you should be prepared for something."
Cissa pinched a few sprigs of chamomile. She'd been having trouble…sleeping. "What?" She asked absently.
"According to Harry, Hermione Granger is sending you a wedding invitation. Might arrive today."
That earned Andy a look of utter disbelief. "Me? Why?"
Andy nudged a toadstool with her toe. Narcissa swatted the toe away. "She knows you're staying with us now. And I think she wants…some closure, perhaps."
"Closure?" Narcissa tisked and harvested the molested toadstool into her basket. "The girl doesn't want me there. She's being kind because of you and Ted. And Potter."
"Potter called you a hero of the War, I believe? He thinks highly of you." She toed another toadstool and grinned when Narcissa growled.
"Nothing heroic about it." She plucked that toadstool, too. "I was terrified and desperate to save my son. It was a self-serving and thoughtless act."
"I don't fucking believe that." The heavy curse falling from her sister's usually innocent lips gave Narcissa pause. She looked up at Andy, shielded from the sun by her older sister's shadow. "Not for a minute do I believe that, Narcissa Black Malfoy. I think you saw an opportunity greater than you and took it. Whether you planned it or not…I know you. And you're no damned fool. And neither digging in this black dirt for mushrooms nor singing my grandson to bed at night are the actions of a self-serving witch." She chuffed lightly. "I think you aren't half the icy bitch the wizarding world came to think you were."
"Yes, I am." But her face burned. She turned briskly back to her gardening.
"No, you wish you were." This time Andromeda's toe nudged Cissa's arse, irritating as a sibling can be. "But I think someone's melted you quite nicely."
"Goddess bless, Andy! Go bother your husband!" Andromeda left on a giggle, leaving Narcissa lost in thought and staring at toadstools.
She hadn't recalled that day in a very long time; the hammering of her heart, the fear in her gut, the paleness of the Potter boy lying there. And what if Draco was lying somewhere, too – just like that? In the present, her spade went in the fertile soil. In the past, her hand scrambled over a boy's heartbeat. She closed her eyes on the tears.
Some witch's son, she'd thought then. This is some witch's son! And he's alive! Voldemort's stinging hex still biting, she'd heard his viperous breathing behind her, her sister's eager panting. She'd known. In her heart of hearts, she'd know something: This is the boy who can win this war – who can end this suffering for all of us.
For all of us. In the present, she comported herself and wrenched the spade from the soil. It was too much to contemplate right now. And the Granger girl's wedding… Frustrating. And she was frustrated enough as it was, dammit.
But Severus will no doubt attend. She bit her lip, stowing gardening implements in the mudroom and whisking her wand over her dirty shoes. She'd nothing to wear to a wedding. But Severus will be there.
She gathered her wits before entering the lively atmosphere of the kitchen. I'll find something to wear.
On Friday, Severus tried to pretend he was not nervous or excited about dinner with the Tonkses. And if Granger noticed he was pretending, she didn't comment. She'd left him well enough alone since her revelatory monologue of the previous day, and he was glad. In fact, she left early in the afternoon. "Hope you don't mind. We're headed to Shell Cottage this weekend to visit Fill and Fleur."
"Have fun."
"You should come." His eyes flashed at her from the proposal he was viewing. "Harry has invited you several times."
He sighed. "I've plans."
"Really?" The excitement in her voice was slightly debasing. She was grinning like a mated mermaid. "That's lovely!"
"Go, Granger!"
She snickered as she hurried out of the office. "See you Monday!" She called.
He grunted. Sighed at the potions proposal. Looked out his charmed window at the rather overcast sky. Sighed again. He left early, too.
He tried to pretend he wasn't putting any extra work into his toiletry. But the fact he'd been before the mirror for more than thirty seconds appalled him.
He was examining his face. I look old. And…tired. He raised a brow. But she did kiss me. He brushed his teeth and opted to dress down in a soft grey oxford and crisp black trousers. He ignored the scars on his neck. They were barely noticeable in dim light anyway, and he'd grown accustomed to their general presence.
Before he could think any more on his appearance, he hurried downstairs, grabbed the wine from the table and apparated from his patio.
Narcissa answered his knock in attire that suggested she'd not been expecting company. A gauzy white sundress whisked about her knees, the hem slightly frayed. Its think straps had been hastily snipped and tied on her shoulders – a blatant attempt at making the too-big frock fit a too-small frame. Thusly, the deep 'v' of the bodice accentuated an incredible pair of ample, firm breasts, and her normally pale porcelain complexion was pinkened by the sun.
Throat (and trousers) tight, Snape wondered if that skin would be warm to the touch…
"Severus!" There was a very mild hint of hysteria in her tone. Her hand went to her throat.
"Narcissa." He licked dry lips. "I'm rather early." He proffered the bottle of wine.
She took it hesitantly, forehead creasing. "Early?"
"Andromeda said seven." He blinked. "For dinner."
"Oh!" The utterance was perfect on her bow shaped lips and a sudden furious flush darkened her sun-kissed complexion further. "My sister and Ted are away," she said. "Visiting the Weasleys and Potter for the weekend. At the beach."
"Ah." He'd been Slytherined. It stymied him. Narcissa seemed stymied, as well. And embarrassed. They'd clearly been set up.
They were alone.
He coughed. "Well, then…" Well, what then? I suppose I should go home. Tendrils escaped from her hair's messy bun and tickled her neck. She looked remarkably fuckable. And he couldn't help squirming a bit under her intense gaze.
She was biting her bottom lip, hand absently stroking her neck. Finally, she squared her jaw and faced him directly. "I apologize, Severus. It seems my well-meaning sister is under the impression I could benefit from time spent alone with you."
"I see." He did see. He saw her breath coming faster and her lips swelling from her teeth's attentions. Saw the way she inched just an inch closer to him, her pupils dilated.
"I hate that you've inconvenienced yourself in this way." She was fingering one of the ties on that damned dress. "I would love to cook for you."
Watching that fidget create shadows across her cleavage, Snape suddenly remembered to breathe. "No. I…I wouldn't want you to inconvenience yourself in such a way," he whispered.
She stared at his face, searched his eyes. He didn't hide anything. She wouldn't have to be a legilimens to know his thoughts. "Severus…"
So simply, so perfectly, he stepped forward. Clasped the back of her head and pulled her lips to his own. The wine thudded onto the floor and her fingers tangled in his hair. Stretching on her bare tiptoes, she tasted like cinnamon and groaned eagerly into his mouth.
It was like the solution to an arithmantic equation, elegantly unfolding in his arms. She was evidence of life – the sum of heat plus desire, reminding him of want's complexity. He pressed her into the wall for some balance and she ground shamelessly against his thigh. He gasped. "Christ, Narcissa."
She attacked his throat with her mouth and his shirt with shaking hands. "Severus," she hissed. "Please."
Her plea and the scrape of her teeth on sensitive scar tissue broke his last fleeting remnants of self-control. He could touch her – have her. And she wanted it, keened for it in his ear as his fingers sluiced her dress up her thighs. He'd barely stroked her cotton-covered cunt when she surged against him, knocking him backward against the banister. He coughed and caught her to his chest.
"I'm so sorry," she panted. She was figuring the buttons on his trouser placket.
"It's fine," he panted in return. He was untying a shoulder strap, eager to bare those breasts, when her hand stroked his bare erection. The strap in his fingers ripped as she crashed against the wall. Her eloquent 'oomph' was muffled by his mouth and he gracelessly groped her. She arched into the touch, whimpering, offered an aching nipple to his hungry lips.
"Gods, you're gorgeous," he murmured mindlessly round a mouth full of breast.
She licked the shell of his ear. "You, too."
His free hand was tugging at her knickers. "I'm sorry about your dress."
She hooked a foot into the troublesome knickers, helping to push them down before kicking them away. "It's Andy's dress," she admitted desperately. "Destroy it. Just fuck me!"
"Hell, yes," he growled. He cupped her knee, trying not to grip too tightly as he curled the creamy leg around his hip. But she lacked his awareness entirely. Her fingers were talons in his arse cheeks and she pushed her other leg up as well, pressed the foot against the banister railing behind him. She was wanton and decadent, tugged him hard into her dripping heat and he slid fast past any resistance.
They groaned in tandem. Her head thunked against the wall. "Yesss," she drawled. Her voice was guttural. If he hadn't been pumping in and out of the very gates of Paradise, the demon-possessed tone might have frightened him. "Faster!" Her husky demand was hypnotic.
He complied. His balls burned. He tugged her second shoulder strap loose with his teeth and watched her perfect tits shake with their rhythm. "Cissa." His voice was muffled in her chest. "I don't think I can –"
"Nonono," she cooed, stroking his hair. "Pleasepleaseplease! Just harder, Severus!" She was tensed like a soldier at attention, clinging to his shoulders as he slammed into her punishingly. "Something is…Oh!" She broke off, suddenly seizing.
Severus clung back, felt her tightening on his cock, felt the wonder of a woman's pleasure milking him dry. It was overpowering and he didn't resist, surrendered and came inside her, helpless and shuddering, uttering nonsense into her ear, neck and mouth. "Cissa. Narcissa. So good. So perfect. My perfect fucking goddess –"
She silenced him with a kiss. Her breath was hot on his cheek, laced with saliva and still fast. He steadied her on her weakened legs. Their kiss slowed, lightened, and he realized the moisture on her face was more than just sweat.
She was crying. And the crying turned to sobbing, heaving and clawing him to her. Awkwardly, he turned them, sunk down the wall and brought her with him. Seated on a step, he held her on his lap and soothed her. "Shh." He murmured into her hair. "Was I truly that awful?"
A half laugh, half sob answered him and she pushed away a bit to compose herself. She wiped her face and touched her loosened hair. Gave up, and simply held her dress bodice over her breasts. "What you must think of me."
He stroked her face tenderly. "You can't begin to imagine." He was hoarse. Satisfaction had him knackered and more relaxed than he'd been in…well, forever.
Again she laughed, but bitterly. "24 years…" She looked away from him. "24 years of marriage and would you believe…that…never once happened for me?"
He wasn't certain how to respond to that. "I'm sorry, Narcissa."
She shook her head. "I don't think I meant to say that." Her eyes closed. "Oh, hell."
Severus looked down at himself, shirt and trousers askew. At least his flaccid cock was tucked away. "I…I haven't a great deal of experience in these matters, myself." His admission was quiet. "And certainly not like…" He gestured between them.
She blushed, bit a finger. "Gods, I know," she breathed. "It was rather…" Her own gesture, and a smile. The magical clock in the living room ticked and tocked. The witch and wizard on the stairs were painfully awkward together. Finally, Narcissa spoke as if she suddenly remembered something. "I have a bed."
His brows quirked. "Do you?"
Her blush deepened. "I mean to say, if you'd like to stay for a while…"
"You'll have me in your bed?" He hedged.
She nodded. "I would like that."
Again he touched her face, kissed her. "Then take me to your bed, Cissa."
The way he said it made it sound like poetry. She led him up the stairs with a touch of giddiness in her step.
They each took their turn in the loo, and when Severus emerged and crossed the hall to her doorway, he saw her turning down the white duvet on her four-poster bed. She wore the loosely knotted dressing gown he'd seen her in days earlier, and the moonlight shone silver in her hair. She was an ethereal thing. Anticipation bubbled in his belly when she turned shyly.
He held his shirt in his hands, tossed it onto a corner chair when she motioned to him. He came to her like a tamed beast and put his hands on her shoulders while she explored his body. She touched him with curious and learning fingers, didn't shy away from his scar, but put her lips to it. It was too much like worship. His throat tightened precariously. "Narcissa…"
Her face was unguarded, eyes shining. "Shall I stop touching you?"
"No," he rasped. He loosed the tie on her robe, let his own fingers explore. "Never stop."
Naked, they clambered into her bed, eager to continue discovering one another, eager to learn what it was to make love. And it wasn't difficult. Their bodies seemed attuned to one another, their magic mingling like water poured from two gourds into the same vessel. They smiled at each other's gasps, gasped at each new sensation. They touched and tasted til exhaustion threatened to halt them both.
In the dimness, Narcissa settled her head on Severus' chest. He seemed to want her there, an arm around her shoulders holding her against him snugly. She listened to his heartbeat, to the hungry rumblings of his stomach and felt a smile – a true, unfettered smile – spreading across her lips.
And it suddenly hit her – like a train on a track: she was happy. "Oh, goddess," she murmured.
"What?" Severus' gentling hands stilled their leisurely designs on her back.
She propped herself on his chest, met his drowsy eyes. "You make me happy," she said, feeling a complete idiot.
He blinked. And in that moment, she saw a recognizable realization unfold on his own features – a sudden comprehension similar to hers. "Merlin," he breathed.
They stared at each other in wonder for a time, not speaking, barely breathing. But words hardly seemed necessary. They simply smiled unfamiliar smiles before he tumbled her beneath him once more. She laughed and squealed – a sound never heard previously from her throat – and dawn slowed its approach to give them time.
AN: Thanks to everyone who's following and reviewing this piece for your patience of late. I have my hands full with a move. And thanks to Florence + the Machine - for the inspiration and the title. One more chapter!