** AUTHOR'S NOTE - Explicit content in this chapter
Hermione sat on the side of her bed and watched the sky darken. She did not leave her room for supper and though sadness weighed on her like a stone, she did not cry, she did not have the strength left. There was only a hollow desperation. He had opened his home to her, wrapped his protection around her like a cloak and she had thrown it in his face.
Severus Snape was not afraid to take risks, he had put his own life on the line more than once for those he cared for. He was doing it now and for her. He asked for nothing in return. And she had turned on him like a viper.
Knowing that he was prepared to step into the fray and for her sake made Hemione feel desperately ungrateful. She knew that he was prepared to give his life for what he believed was right. That he was prepared to make that sacrifice for her and yet insist his kisses meant so little was a thought she could not reconcile.
Night had fallen when she rose slowly to her feet. She did not know what time it was but it was late, the moon was high in the sky outside of her window. She had not closed the drapes and she made no move to do so now. Instead, she walked to her door, opened it and went down the hallway to where his chamber was.
Hermione was never one to shy away from knowing, never one to leave a question unanswered and tonight though she feared what she might find, she knew she had to seek it anyway.
She knew he was in his room because she saw the light beneath the door.
It never occurred to her that he might be sleeping and so, without pausing to think about what she was doing, for fear of losing the nerve, she rose her hand to knock on the door.
Before she made contact with the wood, the door was wrenched open and he stood there, framed in light, his dark hair falling around his face, a little wildly, as if he had been running his hands through it. He looked like a dark angel and she looked up at him, momentarily silenced by the sight of him.
He was not wearing his robes, he had on a white shirt that was untucked from the waist of his black trousers. It was discordant, he was as meticulous about his appearance as he was about just about every aspect of his life. She frowned, realising the intimacy of the space she was invading and all of the brave words she had rehearsed over and over in her mind died in her throat.
His face was composed and his voice dripped with his trademark sarcasm when he spoke, clearly deciding that she was not going to be the first to break the silence.
"You have thought of some other unpleasantries you forgot to deliver earlier? I see by the look on your face they cannot wait until morning and I would not have you sleep on your sharp words, Miss Granger. Please come in. It would be rather nice if Kreacher did not have the second act of our little melodrama played out before him, entertaining though the first undoubtedly was," his gaze idled over her with guarded interest and Hermione quailed under the ebony eyes.
He opened the door wider and stood back and she took several steps forward, hearing him close the door behind her.
She looked back at him. "How did you know I was outside?" she asked and he shouted out a humourless laugh. "I was beginning to fear you had been hexed dumb. But it seems nothing can diminish your zest for the pestering questions," he said dryly. "Seeing as it is not an ambition of mine to be murdered in my sleep, I have a sensory charm on my door. Now if you were planning to assassinate me, consider yourself thwarted. If this is a new social custom you are trying out, I am too tired for it," he said.
"If I wanted to assassinate you, I wouldn't have been about to knock," she pointed out, wondering if being in such a plainly masculine space had somehow turned her into a babbling twit. His room was pristinely neat, shaded in quiet tones of chocolate and ash. There were book shelves on every wall, volumes lining each one like soldiers in their rows. It could have been a muggle hotel room she was looking at.
Yet it was intensely his or maybe it was just that his presence was so hard to ignore, filling the room, crowding on her senses. She could smell that slightly musky scent of him, a mixture of powdery herbs and old leather.
"Well I've always admired your manners," he quipped and she looked up at him, brown eyes finding obsidian.
Holding them.
"Is that all?" she whispered, amazed at her own daring. He stared, now he was the one caught off balance. For a heart beat, he was stunned but his brows drew together in a scowl and the light in his eyes fired.
"What is the game you are playing, witch? It seems you are bound to drive me insane and believe me, I fear I am this close!" he held up a hand, thumb and forefinger millimetres apart. Hermione shook her head.
"No games. You kiss me and it is like I am flying. I have to know, is any of it real? Is there any part of you that feels it too? Do I make you feel even a little of that?" there was a plea in her eyes that had him squeezing his own eyes shut.
He dropped his head and Hermione heard him draw in a long breath. He plunged his hands into his pockets as if unsure what else to do with them.
"Severus? Please don't shout at me," she said, fearing that he was about to tell her that being an insufferable know it all, she should have the answers.
He looked at her and the gentleness in his eyes startled her more than if he had responded with the expected sneer.
"I am not going to shout at you," he smiled sadly at her and took a step closer to where she stood rooted to the floor.
"You are so heart breakingly young, Hermione. Yes, I know that you are not a student anymore and I am all too aware that you are a woman and a very accomplished one at that. And then I look at you and I see so much heart in your eyes that I can hardly breathe," he said softly.
She was not sure if it was the sound of her name on his lips or the effect of what he said but tears came, unbidden and unstoppable.
"Then you know why I am here," she said, as a single tear made its way down her face.
He dragged his eyes from hers and an anguished expression broke his careful facade of control. "Don't you see? I must keep you safe. There are very big stakes at play here and I cannot make a mistake. I cannot risk having you hurt," he said.
"I am not going to get hurt, I am not afraid of Lucius. What I am afraid of is never knowing what it would be like to feel I belong in your arms. Even if it is just for now, just tonight," she sobbed and the raw honesty in her words sliced through the fortress the master of defence had built around his own heart.
He moved towards her and taking his hands from his pockets, he placed them on her shoulders instead.
"You don't know what you are asking. I am no good, Hermione, not for you, not for anyone. I should have sent you back to your chaste little bed the second you arrived at my door. That is what an honourable man would have done. I should be jinxed to infinity for even thinking..," he broke off and her eyes flew to his and the hope he saw there was his undoing.
"What were you going to say?" she whispered. "Thinking what?"
"For thinking that you could want me. For thinking that I have anything to offer you. If you knew how much I want you, you'd run screaming to the next county.
"Instead, you are standing here, crying for me and I cannot seem to find the strength to let you go, " he said.
He leaned towards her very slowly and very deliberately. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart slammed against her ribs. He stopped the track of her tears by pressing his lips against first one cheek, then the other.
"Then just hold me," she whispered, half afraid that if she blinked she would break this strange and wonderful new spell, finding she had dreamed this moment instead.
"What on earth am I to do with you, little Miss Granger? One minute you are raging at me like a desert storm, the next you are warm in my arms like a day in the sunlight," he murmured, drawing her against him in fierce hug before lowering his head to claim her lips, slanting against hers and tantalising her to seek more.
When he let her go, Hermione knew that it was true what they said about kisses having the power to make your head spin. The entire universe seemed to have tilted on its axis and she reached for him to steady her, the root to tether her to all she needed to hold on to.
So many heady sensations flooded Hermione's senses that she knew not which were which. She only knew that this was the one perfect moment she had ever known. His kisses were fire and water, they gave and they sought and Hermione wanted to lose herself in them. To jump and never look back.
She took his head in her hands and drew his face back to hers and when her lips found his, a gasp of pure happiness left her and he gathered her closer, a pirate with a magnificent treasure.
He could have lost himself in that kiss, he could have surrendered to every delicious spark of heat that ignited in his blood.
He groaned and hauled her to him, wanting to take the mouth, the body she offered so sweetly, wanting it with an urgency that crashed into him like a tidal wave.
He felt her arms circle his waist, he felt her lean into him and he felt her shudder when he lifted her blouse to press his palm against the silky soft skin at the small of her back.
The contact of skin to skin was electric. Hermione felt as though all of her nerve endings had suddenly centred to just that one spot A little cry of need escaped her and she pressed closer, wanting to feel so much more of his touch.
Gently he eased back and gave her a solemn look. "You have done this before?" he rasped and he saw the innocence as she met his eyes. He had tasted it in her kisses, he had sensed it in her response to him.
"Hermione. Are you a virgin? I need to know, my pretty one," he gasped as realisation came to him.
Hermione blushed so hard, she wondered if she could actually catch fire. She couldn't meet his eyes nor find the words to answer. So she fixed her gaze resolutely on his shoulder and nodded.
He placed a long finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to him. He rested the backs of the fingers on one hand against her burning cheek.
"I didn't know girls did that anymore. Blush, I mean," he smiled at her as her colour deepened yet further. "Very fetching it is too," he said as he held her from him to give her a long and searching look.
"You come to me willingly, you never refuse me. You take my breath away, my dear Miss Granger," he said with a wonder in his tone that puzzled her even as it made her blood sing.
"Are you afraid at all? The truth now," he urged seeing her open her mouth, about to issue a rapid fire denial.
"No. I'm not afraid, at least not like I think you mean," she said, keeping her eyes averted as though the rug on his bedroom floor mesmerised her.
He let one of the long tendrils of her hair curl around his finger as he gave her a searching look.
"I mean, I am not afraid of us, of being with you. You have to know that I want you," she pressed on.
"But I am… Severus, I can't help but think, I could.. It's not like I have anything to go by, so what if.. ? She looked up at him with real torment in her eyes and he ached to see that.
"Sit down here and take a deep breath and just tell me, Hermione. Let's hear it," he said, leading her to his bed and easing her down onto the mattress. He sat beside her and took her hands in his, maintaining contact between them, reading the sheer need for it in both of them.
"What if I don't please you?" she said in a tortured whisper and met his gaze at last.
He looked at her incredulously. "Please me? Hermione, you have no idea what you do to me. I have wanted you so badly, I thought I was losing my mind. And now here you are, giving me this
amazing gift. I am the luckiest man alive but I do not deserve to be. You are so much more than I could have dared even to dream," he said and the warmth in his eyes told her that he spoke the truth.
"But I want you to promise me something, Pretty," he said, deadly earnest. He gave her a long look.
" We will take our own sweet time. And you can change your mind up to and including the last possible moment, do you understand me now?" he said.
"One word from you and we stop, no harm done. Okay?" he asked, rubbing his thumbs along her forearm, firing licks of heat in her veins.
"I promise," she agreed, as he smiled gloriously at her, a smile that lit every female instinct within her.
She lifted a hand and traced the outline of his lips with her fingers, sending spears of pleasure down his spine. "I shall think this a dream tomorrow," she whispered. "What a fanciful creature you are," he chuckled, as he took her hand in his and held it to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn.
He rose to his feet and still keeping her hands in his, he pulled her to stand before him.
His expression was intent as he reached for her and slowly undid each of the buttons on her blouse. He slid it off her shoulders it fell to the floor with a soft whisper.
She kept her eyes on his but felt goose pimples hum across her sensitive flesh. It seemed she forgot how to breathe when he hooked a finger on first one bra strap and then the other and flicked them down her arms.
He let his eyes roam over her hungrily, before coming back to look deep into her eyes.
"Take it off," he whispered. Hermione's eyes were wide, her lips were parted and her heart was beating fast enough that she was surprised he couldn't hear it. Without a word, she reached behind her back and undid the clasps that held the flimsy garment in place. It fell to her feet and his eyes burned as desire flamed from within him.
Embarrassment rose in her and Hermione would have lifted her arms to shield herself but he took hold of her wrists.
"Do not be shy with me, my Hermione. You are incredibly lovely, don't you know that? You are stunning."
He had to touch her, she utterly beguiling. Her breasts rose in perfect peaks, her skin glowed. He leant down and buried his face in the wild, tumbling curls, breathing in the lemony scent of her perfume.
He put his hands on her waist and felt her arms wind around his neck. He let his lips trail from the satiny soft lobe of her ear to the corner of her mouth and he teased her with little kisses that tasted and flicked away until she moaned and twined her fingers in his hair pulling his head towards her until her lips found his.
She kissed him hungrily, and her passion for him touched something long unawakened in Severus Snape.
He felt desire smoulder and yet there was tenderness. Snape held her as though she was a breakable thing, he let her closeness fill his senses, her need for him warm his wounded heart.
He trailed his hands up the curve of her waist to cup her breast and the contact was like a jolt of a delicious spell for Hermione. He tore his lips from hers and put his lips against he soft skin on her neck and she trembled against him, helpless against the barrage of feeling that claimed her.
"Severus," she called his name and the note of raw need in her voice brought his eyes to hers. Her eyes were wide, her lips swollen, her skin flushed and there was a second when he wanted only to fling her onto his bed and take every ounce of sweetness she was offering, to drown in her scent, to forget everything but her softness, her warmth.
But he saw the trust in those smoky brown eyes, the simple faith in him and his heart twisted in his chest.
"I'm here, Sweetness. And I will make you happy tonight. I will be gentle with you," he whispered.
Hermione had never felt so much in her life before. She felt wanted, she, plain Hermione Grainger had awakened the fire of passion she saw in his eyes. She felt sexy and desirable, he touched her body as though cupping sunlight in his hands. She felt so safe and she felt powerful.
She unwound her arms from his neck and let her hands trace the line of his shoulders and skimmed down his back before circling back to undo the buttons of his shirt, starting at the one just at his throat.
He watched her fingers move and he held his breath when she opened his shirt and pressed her palms against his chest. Beneath the fine dusting of dark hair, she could see the weals of the scars that criss crossed his skin.
She felt the springy curls tickle her fingers, she felt the firm skin and the heat that came from it.
With wonder, she traced the paler lines of the scars with her finger tips but would have jerked away when he grasped her wrists in his hands. Her eyes shot to his, puzzled. "Have I done something wrong?" she asked and his black eyes were kind.
"No, no. Just the opposite," he sighed. He tugged her wrist, bringing her into direct contact with his body and his breath hissed from him as her breasts pressed against him.
For her part, Hermione felt her body react instantly and though the sensations were novel, she responded to the ache low in her belly by wrapping her arms around him.
"Love me, Severus," she rasped and he knotted his fingers in her hair, dragging her head back, taking her mouth with a possession that had her whimpering softly as his hands skimmed her skin, brushing against the outline of her breasts, the hair on his chest a rough texture that brought her nipples to erect peaks.
When she thought she could surely stand no more, he stepped back and stooped to scoop her into his arms.
"Come, pretty one, we will do this the right way," he smiled into her surprised face, a wolfish grin of triumph on his lips as he carried her to his bed.