A/N: All disclaimers still apply; I am not J. K., and I own nothing except my very own AU-which my story is set in. I hope you are enjoying the read, and the characters I have created. As ALWAYS your reviews are important to me, and much appreciated. Rating: DEFINITELY M!! Let's get to it, shall we?
Chapter Twelve: There's Got To Be A Morning After; or, He Said/She Said
Whatever hallucinogenic had been in that sacred goblet they'd all drunk from was finally beginning to wear off on all the participants of the sex-magick ritual, and all the gods and goddesses were returning the mortal bodies they'd purloined to their rightful owners.
It was like waking slowly up from a wet dream in the middle of the night, to discover that something must have really happened after all, because of the tangled sheets and warm body sharing the bed. As each of the couples began to drift to a state of wakefulness, there were gentle touches, kisses, and a rising desire to 'have another go' as they all found to their fortunate surprise they really had been with the one of their dreams.
Harry tenderly kissed Elle, and brushed a single tear from her pale cheek with his thumb as he softly asked, "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you too much, did I?" She gave a small groan, but hesitantly smiled at him, and answered, "Yes, a bit, but I've heard that it gets better, and that I'll learn to appreciate just how . . . big . . . you are the more we're intimate."
He was instantly solicitous of Elle, and remembering Severus' advice, he used 'scourgify' as gently as he could to clean the huge blood stain from his sheets, and from off both of them. After ascertaining that she was as thirsty as he was himself, Harry summoned Dobby to fetch them some of the cool fruit juice she'd so enjoyed yesterday. 'Was it only yesterday?' Harry thought to himself. 'How much difference just a day can make!'
Harry and Elle lounged back, bodies comfortably touching, against the pillows of his bed in Gryffindor Tower, as they sipped the cool fruit-juice and snacked on the sweet biscuits that Dobby had taken upon himself to add to the silver bed-tray he'd brought them. They shared a quiet laugh about the pleased, proud, paternal look Dobby had given both his chosen master, Harry Potter, and the beautiful girl who currently seemed to be pleasing said master.
"You have crumbs, just here," Elle said, as she leant over to flick them from the left corner of his mouth with her pink little tongue. Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he felt himself hardening again. He used moving the tray to the floor as an excuse to 'adjust' his newly arisen problem.
"Ahem!" he tried clearing his throat, but hoarsely said, "Elle, if you don't stop, I might end up having to 'hurt' you again!" She just smirked at him, as her slender alabaster fingers tentatively slid inside the sheets and she touched his erection as delicately as a spiders' web. Harry drew in a sharp inhalation through his hawkish nose, and said with a slow hiss, "Elle, I'm not joking! I don't want to cause you pain again. Wouldn't it be better to wait a day or two, give you a chance to heal a bit?"
Elle stared into his concerned emerald eyes with her own open and honest amethyst stare, and gently replied, "Harry, it's almost dawn. The ritual will end at sunrise, and please Harry, I want just one time of it being me and you, not some magickal bollocks of a shag! I want it to be YOU making love to ME, if you wouldn't mind that is."
Harry swallowed hard, and slowly reached a trembling hand over to caress her beautiful, pale cheek. Elle turned her head to press an insistent, moist kiss into his palm. Harry let his hand slip slowly down her throat, and come to rest cupping one pink-tipped, small-but perfect-breast, as he swooped down to slide his tongue between Elle's gasping, parted lips, and to raise up on his other hand to hover over her. Harry deepened their kiss, plundering her warm, sweet-tasting mouth, and instinctively used his knee to part her slender thighs, to most tenderly and thoroughly give her what she'd begged him so sweetly for . . . one more time.
Ron rolled over onto his side, and sleepily draped his left arm across the warm, soft body lying beside him. He drowsily pulled the stiffening little body closer, and lazily dipped his head down to nuzzle a smooth, petite shoulder. "Ouch! Be easy, Ron," Luna plaintively exclaimed.
That jerked Ronald Weasley completely awake. He was instantly full of pride about having successfully shagged Luna Lovegood, and puffed his chest out just a bit as he grinned and suggested, "Care for another go at it, Luna my love?" He ground his pelvis against her heart-shaped little bum.
"OWWIE! NO, Ron!" Luna said on a pained, rising note, as she attempted to scuttle sideways like a crab, away from her giver of pain and pleasure.
Ron's face fell, and he said, "What do you mean 'no'? It SURE wasn't 'no' just a little while ago!" He angrily threw the sheets back to storm out of the bed, and froze in sudden shock. "I say Luna, you . . . you're not on your period, are you? I mean, there's a . . . ah, a puddle of blood here . . . a LOT of blood!"
"NO, Ronald! I'm not on my period. I was a VIRGIN, you sodding idiot!" Luna complained, and promptly burst into tears. Ronald Weasley was gobsmacked, and he breathed, "Oh Merlin! Oh bloody buggery bollocks!" Ron swallowed hard, and tried again, "Luna, my little love! Circe, I'm such a jackass! Luna, my sweetest heart, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I swear! What can I do? What can I DO? I've never been with a virgin before!"
Ron's worried expression almost made Luna take pity on him, but not quite. Luna sighed, and said, "A little cleansing spell should help, Ron. Can you manage, or may I borrow your wand and I'll do it myself." Ron instantly hopped out of bed, heedless of the rapidly drying blood that encrusted him, and fetched his wand from the bureau top. "Scourgify," he whispered, tapping his wand delicately, hoping that he was being gentle enough.
They were immediately cleansed, sheets and all, and Luna sighed as she murmured, "Thank you, Ron! That's nice and warm, and you did it just right." He cleared his throat a couple of times, and when he'd finally found his voice again he replied, "It's nothing, love. Ah, Luna?"
"Yes, Ron?" she tiredly answered. He tried again, "Luna, is it right that there was quite so MUCH blood? I mean, you DID want to, right? I didn't . . . I didn't force you, did I?"
With these hushed, self-conscious words, Luna finally did take pity on Ron. "No, Ronald my love. You didn't force me, I wanted it too. I just hadn't thought it'd be quite so . . . uncomfortable. I mean, I should have known! After all, girls talk too, and Lavender was MOST explicit and proud about your being 'well-endowed' and all. But the reality was a bit more than I'd counted on."
Ron seized on one statement, and said, "You knew about Lavender?" She nodded her head slowly, and stared wide-eyed into his blue-green surprised eyes. "Well, that's as it should be. I don't want to keep any secrets from you, Luna," Ron finally said, after he'd thought it through.
Luna raised herself up on her elbow, the sheet slipping down to expose just the barest peek of one of her pert nipples, which instantly drew all of Ron's attention and left him dry-mouthed in wonder. She looked slyly at him, and softly said, "Ah . . . Ron, would you like to kiss me again, now?"
He swallowed hard, still staring at her nipple, and nodded his head. Then Ron stopped, and slowly shook his head 'no' before saying, "Luna, I'm not so sure that would be such a good idea. I still want you, and all, but . . . well, what if I get 'excited' and can't stop? I don't want to hurt you again."
She smiled a wide smile that made her little nondescript face illuminate suddenly with an abiding beauty. He'd passed the test! Ron had put HER feelings first, and was actually being kind and considerate about her well-being.
"Well, it's my understanding that it hurts less and less as you get more practice at it," Luna replied, as she reached a slim little hand over to stroke his broad cheek. "Want to start practicing?" she whispered, and tilted her head back to receive the kiss they both truly wanted.
Fred and George shared a bedroom, just as they always had. As they began to awaken themselves, a symphony of quiet whisperings and moans began to come from the two separate beds; along with the faint squeeking of bedsprings that gradually became louder and more creaking by the second.
From each bed, a girls' voice began to emerge--until the two girls were both doing their own fair share of 'twin-speak'; "Oh, oh, yes , yes . . . YES!" "Sweet Merlin, that's soooo goooodd!" "Just there, ahh, yeeessss!" "More to the other side, o o oooh, yeeeeeessssss, THERE!" "Oh goddess, oh goddess, ooh Fffrreeeeddd, yes!" "Don't stop-don't stop-don't stop!" "Ooh, ooh, oooohh!" "George, what ARE you doing? Oh my stars! Yes! Yes! YESSSSSssss!"
Draco had been awake and eavesdropping for awhile now, his left arm curled lazily around Miranda's petite form, fondling one full breast with slow circles as she slept on. He was grinning wickedly; the headboard of his bed abutted the twins' room, and from the sound of it, they were all having a grand old time in there! Miranda suddenly flipped over onto her back with an irritated huff, and pinned Draco with a hard emerald-green stare.
Draco immediately took the hint. He slipped from the warmth of his bed to pound on the shared wall and shout, "Ever hear of a 'silencio' charm, you sodding buggers? There's a LADY present in here!"
Gillian was moaning in her sleep, sad little whimpers, with the tell-tale trails of dried tears crystalizing on her pale cheeks. Neville came instantly awake, and remembering Severus' advice, peeked under the sheets. Sweet Merlin! Yup, they were both crusted with dried blood, and there was a pool of it under her right hip.
Gillian was curled into an almost fetal position, her too-thin arms clasped protectively around her abdomen, as she fitfully slept on. Neville's heart felt like it was breaking, to have done this to her because of Mab. For the first time ever in his life, Neville Longbottom truly hated himself.
He slid ever so quietly from his bed, and tip-toed over to the bureau top to retrieve his wand. "Scourgify!" he whispered, trying the charm on himself first. HE deserved to be hurt if it went wrong as his spells so often did, not her. But to his utter amazement it worked!
Neville crept back over to the bed, lifted the sheet, and aimed his wand most carefully, whispering, "Scourgify!" once again; this time for Gillian's comfort and cleansing. He pulled the sheet back over her wraith-like form, and tucked her up as best as he could before he went suddenly weak-kneed, and had to sit down on the edge of the bed.
Gillian gave a soft, relieved sigh, as the warmth of the cleansing spell eased some of her soreness away, and she relaxed enough to roll over towards him and stretch herself almost completely straight.
Neville just hung his head, and buried his face into his wide, calloused hands. First one tear, then another--which he manfully struggled to control--slid silently down his broad, honest, embarrassed face. He almost jumped out of his skin when one of Gillian's slender hands came to rest on his naked shoulder.
Gillian pushed herself up, pressed a forgiving kiss to the back of his embarrassed, bowed neck, and soothed him with the words, "Sssh, Neville, my heart! It's a natural thing for the first time to be messy and painful. It's just a part of every woman's life. I'm glad that you were my first. Anyone else might not even have cared! YOU care so much that I can feel your heart breaking for my sake." Her thin, pale arms slid around Neville's shoulders, and she rested her cheek against his wide back.
Neville heaved a shuddering breath, and whispered, "How can you be so sweet to me when I must have acted like an animal, to leave you in so much pain?" He felt her smile, so firmly was her cheek pressed against his back, and she softly replied, "Because I love you, silly!"
At these words, Neville jerked his head up, accidentally cracking Gillian's head with his own in the process, as he pivoted around to pull her over onto his lap. They both rubbed their bruised heads, and shared a quiet laugh before they became serious. Neville reverently kissed her lips, and replied, "And I love you, Gillian, my only sweetheart." They both grew still once more, staring into each others' eyes with an honest love.
Afterwards, neither could ever say just who leant into whom, but it was only a matter of several long, slow, ever-deepening kisses before they were again tangled in his sheets, and exploring each other as new lovers have done since the beginning of time.
Severus lay flat on his back, cradling Hermione's head on his chest where she could sleep while listening to his heartbeat. He shifted his head to one side, and softly sniffed the tousled, tawny mane of his Lady. 'Yes, she still smells of apples and honey and newly-mown grass, just as I remember,' Severus thought to himself. He sighed, and felt a relaxed grin spread across his normally saturnine features.
He'd already surmised that he wouldn't be Hermione's first lover, even before they'd consummated the sex-magick ritual, but Severus didn't care. In fact, he was almost relieved that he wouldn't have to be the one to breach her maidenhead, and be the cause of that inevitable pain. Severus adjusted himself a bit, so that she was within striking distance of his kiss. Hermione gave a satisfied little murmur and snuggled closer to him, insinuating her left leg between his strong thighs to press her moist curls against his hip.
With this action on her part, Severus eased Hermione over onto her back, and flicked the tip of his tongue against her swollen lips until she parted them to allow him to again plunder her willing mouth. After a long, intense duel of a kiss, Severus began trailing slow, lazy circles with his hot tongue, intermingled with little nips and kisses, down her beautiful, nubile body, worshipping every inch of her with his mouth. He silently vowed to himself, 'No, my little love, I might not have been your first, but if I have anything at all to say about it, I'll damn sure be your LAST lover!'
Hermione thrashed her head from side-to-side, feeling like she would shatter into a million tiny shards any second now. This was something entirely new for her, and she was positive that Severus had to be using some form of wandless magick on her! 'Ohh, sweet Merlin, that feelss soo gooodd!' danced through her mind. Hermione gasped and trembled, arching her back until her head nearly touched her shoulder blades, as she cried out, "Oh, Merlin! Oh my stars! Ohhh, Sev'ruusssss! Oh, oh, OH YESSsss!!!"
She hadn't even realized she was speaking out loud, as her fingers twisted and tangled his blue-black hair into knots, holding his head in this wonderfully wanton-feeling position. Severus automatically gripped her hips more firmly, as she writhed beneath his skilled tongues' ministrations, and reached her very first climax.
As she drifted back into herself, her blood pounding in her ears, Hermione went bonelessly limp with a low moan of pure sensual pleasure. Severus gently released his grip on her, climbing slowly back up to stop and hover almost menancingly over her; his obsidian stare boring into her amber-brown eyes, which still glowed in wicked abandon.
"Say my name again, Hermione my love," Severus growled seductively, his arms locked at the elbow, one on either side of her, as his glittering black stare bored into her smoky topaz eyes. 'Merlin, the way you say MY name,' thought Hermione for a split-second before she purred back, "Severus."
His face began drifting down, his generous mouth lowering to brush her parted lips, and Severus smirked at her involuntary shudder, as he whispered in that deep, velvety purr, "You are as sweet as honey, my love. Now say my name like you did a bit ago."
His tongue gently flicked her bottom lip, and she whimpered as she huskily asked, "Do you mean like this, 'Sevv'russs'?" Severus growled in the affirmative, as he latched onto her lips to plunder her mouth with his own, at the same plunging his thick rock-hardness into her hot, wet center to begin again the long, lushious strokes that had brought her so much pleasure earlier that night.
Severus raised himself up onto his knees, pulling Hermione by her arse so that he never stopped sliding in and out of her slickness. He slowly lifted her left leg up, sliding it forward and up until he could press a hot kiss onto her sensitive instep, before placing her foot on his shoulder. This unbelievably sensous routine was repeated just as slowly on her right leg, and Hermione could feel him filling her with all of his length, which was almost painfully more than she could take.
Hermione stared up at Severus, her lover, and marvelled to herself at the intense desire for her in his obsidian eyes, glittering so completely black--threatening to suck her very soul into his. 'Merlin! Who'd ever have guessed that such an intensely passionate alpha-male lurked beneath that satirical, cold veneer Severus projects!' she thought in amazement.
A drop of his salty-tasting sweat dripped onto her breast; she reached a finger up to wipe it off. Severus' sharp inhalation as she touched her own breast suddenly inspired the wanton wildcat she'd just discovered lurking inside her, thanks to this dark god of a man.
She tentatively cupped her breast and bent her head as far forward as she could, never breaking the stare she'd locked Severus into, to flick her own nipple with the tip of her pink tongue. Severus froze for a split-second, his every muscle shuddering at the erotic turn-on his Hermione presented him so generously with.
He raised up on his knees, took her roughly by her ankles, and pushing against them for extra leverage, proceeded to drive into her harder and faster than ever, until Severus, himself, unknowingly cried out in the instant of his orgasm, "Oh by all the gods! HERMIIOOONNNEEEE!!!!", before collapsing on top of her.
Severus rolled over onto his back, pulling Hermione with him, to rest her head once more on his broad, heaving chest. He gave a wheezing chuckle as he raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his face, and said, "You'll be the death of me yet, my little lioness! I'm an OLD man, remember? Don't even THINK about a fourth time! As it is, I probably won't be able to walk properly tomorrow, for which I sincerely thank you, my little love." He pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, and whispered, "Three hundred points TO Gryffindor, for services above and beyond excellant!"
Hermione snarkily panted back, "Old man, my sweet arse!" Severus paused in mid-wipe of his face to let her see the humor in his eyes, still glowing their all-black passionate gaze. Oh my stars! That fourth time was on its way! She felt her blush spreading clear down past her nipples, but she didn't care. Sweet Circe! Ever the professor, Severus Snape was thoroughly teaching Hermione Granger that where sex was concerned, there was a world of difference between having a boy, and having a man!
'Sweet Circe, this feels wonderful!' thought Harry, as he continued stroking inside of Elle, and nuzzeling her neck. She was whimpering soft little encouraging words, because she was thinking exactly the same thought as he was. Elle ran her hands down Harry's back, fingernails scraping ever so lightly, causing him to groan and buck even more deeply into her slick tightness.
Elle began whispering in that strangely familiar, sibilant language as she writhed beneath him, and Harry instantly obeyed what she'd asked him for--sliding one arm under the small of her back, to grasp her bum and lift her up as locked her ankles around his arse, and he pumped even more deeply into her.
His mind didn't even pause to process the fact that she'd just spoken Parsel-tongue, and he unconsciously replied back in Parsel, "Yessss, Elsssepthhh, oh Csssirrrcsssseeeeeeeeeee! Tthaaattsss ssssoo goood! Yesssssss!", as he felt his orgasm burst inside of her in fiery pulses, mixing with her own sudden flood, as she joined him in screaming, "Ohh, Harrreeeee! Ohhh, YESSSSssss!"
Ron was just coming back into his room, carrying a tray containing at least one of everything the school house-elfs could scrounge up at this hour. Luna was sitting up in the center of his bed, wearing nothing but one of his oldest flannel shirts, unbuttoned and open, and a huge smile.
He returned her smile with an idiotic grin of his own. As he sat down at the foot of his bed and placed the tray between them, Ron could suddenly 'see' into the future. Maybe Trelawney hadn't been quite so daft after all; maybe he really had gotten something out of all those dingbat classes year after year.
Ron swallowed hard, trying not to wimp-out and let his unexpected tears fall. He was a man, after all; a bloody Quidditch player, not a sodding ponce! Ron glanced over again through his auburn eyelashes, yup!, still there. A vision of twenty years passed in love and contentment, and once again sharing a bedtray with the lovely Luna Weasley, his wife.
The foursome sat crosslegged dressed in various pieces of unmatching, faded sweatpants and tee-shirts, in a circle in Fred and George's bedroom floor, rummaging through the twins' stash of goodies. There were chocolate frogs, Nutty-Fluffs, raspberry twists, and butterpuffs. There was also a twelve-can pack of a Muggle beverage they'd 'nicked' from their dads' Muggle artifacts collection, after sampling it at Harry and Hermione's house during this past Christmas holiday.
George used a milder version of the 'Arcticus' charm to chill individual cans for them. Mandy wasn't too sure about consuming a Muggle product, especially one that 'popped' and 'fizzed' after the incident of her washing her hair in Muggle beer that had led up to Seamus' blowing her hair off last year. But Erika reached greedily for the very first can to be chilled, saying as she did so, "COKE! Yummy! Thanks, guys! It's been too long since I've gotten hold of one of these." She popped the pull-tab open, and immediately took several long, deep swallows.
Mandy eyed her warily, and becoming more confident on seeing that nothing bad occurred to Erika, she slowly reached for a 'Coke' of her own. She repeated Erika's actions that had opened the thing, and after a nose-tickling sniff of the fluid inside the can, she delicately sampled the beverage. It was good! Maybe there were some Muggle things that had merit after all.
Miranda's emerald-green eyes were sensuously boring into Draco's silvery-blue ones as she rested her bum on her heels with her hands cupping her full breasts, before inching her pelvis slowly back up, only to spear herself downwards once again on his unbelievably hard cock. This was their third go-round, and they'd now started experimentation with various positions.
Draco had never felt both so helpless, and at the same time so turned on, in all of the nearly eighteen years of his life. Miranda gave his shaft a tight squeeze with her internal muscles, before she began to undulate her hips like a belly-dancer. Draco shuddered all over, and felt like he'd surely climb out of his skin--or pop his rocks off--in the next heartbeat, as she slowly picked up their pace.
Miranda began tossing her long auburn curls in complete abandon, murmuring her own moans and assorted little noises, as she rode Draco to her own orgasm. But other than to enjoy the view, groan, gasp, and try his best to thrust more deeply into her, there wasn't much else Draco Malfoy could do. The little minx had him tightly tied spread-eagle to the four bedposts!
Neville and Gillian were giggling madly as they raced each other down the hallway. She was clad in a pair of his boxer shorts and a jumper at least four sizes too big. It hung nearly mid-thigh on her too-slender frame, and she had to keep tugging at the waistband of the boxers to keep them from sliding down around her ankles. Neville had on a pair of dark blue jogging pants and matching sweatshirt, the perfect stealth-wear for their moonlight raid of Hogwarts' pantry.
They made it back to Neville's room with their stash, and collapsed on his bed in a fit of nervous laughter. Gillian, the first of them to regain their breath, began to spread out the bounty of their little raid. They'd just beaten Ron Weasley to the larder, but had left the lion's share for the perpetually starving Ron anyway. There was still plenty for the two of them; thin slices of baked ham, a few pieces of cold fried-chicken, several sweet-yeast rolls, a bottle of cold milk, and a dozen or so chocolate-chip cookies.
They took their time eating, talking about anything and everything that crossed their minds as they passed the milk bottle back and forth between them. Finally, with full stomachs and tired bodies, they curled up together and slept, each feeling completely safe and totally accepted and loved for the first time ever.
Gristle 'popped' back with the tray her Master and My Lady had ordered moments earlier. She was mos' pleased to have Master so happy, and had outdone herself on their tray. There were ham and cheese rolls with the spicy brown mustard-sauce Severus liked, an assortment of fruit in a small silver bowl, a sampling of sweet biscuits, the usual variety of chocolates, and a chilled bottle of the sparkling white wine that Hermione favored.
The happy house-elf knew enough to just deliver the tray, and then 'pop' back out to leave the two of her mos' favorite people in the whole world alone once more.
"Thank you, Gristle," they said in unison, and looked at each other in surprise, before sharing a laugh about the little house-elf's determined matchmaking efforts. From the satisfied looks and huge elfin smiles Gristle had given the two of them, it appeared she was completely sure that all this was entirely due solely to her elfin efforts.
Severus and Hermione lounged facing each other with the bedtray lying between them. As they nibbled and sipped, Severus decided to share his thoughts about what he wanted as the reward Mab had promised him for Harry's cure. She listened most attentively, and when he'd finished talking, she was deeply moved by his generousity.
"You'd ask for THAT, and only that, out of everything you could possibly ask for," Hermione said, as her warm, honey-amber eyes brimmed over with love for this kind, passionate, caring man that everyone hated, mistrused, and feared.
"Yes, my love," Severus said firmly. "Werewolves are slaves to their disease. It wasn't a magic that they sought out for themselves; it was a curse, an unbreakable curse, forced on them. There has to have been a cure at one time because all of the most ancient texts swears there was, but it went extinct or something--I'm sure of it. Mab's been a nature goddess since humans first appeared. She would know of the true cure, and could restore the missing ingredient of the Wolfsbane Potion. There would finally be a complete cure possible for any werewolf that would choose to be entirely human again, like Lupin."
He arched a sardonic eyebrow at Hermione, and winked at her, before adding in the old snarky tone, "Of course, there's always the fact that being sole owner and brew-master of the Werewolf Curse-breaking Potion, I'd probably end up rich as Croesus."
Hermione snorted, and erupted in the merry laughter that made Severus' bruised and battered heart blossom like the desert after the rain. "There's my Slytherin-lover! Out for yourself, and yet still hiding your true self! Oh, Severus, I love you!" The words just tumbled out, and once spoken, could never be taken back.
Severus went stock-still, as if she'd cast 'Petrificus Totalis' on him. All humor drained from his sudden, vulnerable, deeply hopeful stare, and he whispered, "How can you possibly love ME, Hermione, my perfect one? You KNOW what I am! You know that I'm twenty years older than you. That's probably why what young Weasley said cut so deeply; it's true that I am old enough to be your father."
Hermione let all of her brave Gryffindor heart shine in her eyes; now was not the time to hold anything back from him. The words she spoke next took Severus' breath completely away, "I know that you're not like the 'front' you present to the rest of the world. Well, maybe to a certain extent you ARE 'Snarky Snape', but you're also 'Severus'; a kind, compassionate man, a dedicated, inspiring teacher, and one hell of a lover to boot!"
She grinned wickedly at his answering dirty look, and continued, "As for your age, it doesn't matter a gnat's whisker to me. My dad was fifteen years older than my mum. And that's Muggle years, Severus! I worked our age difference out with arithmancy. You, yourself, should know that since wizards and witches live extra-long life spans, that twenty years would only be about seven years difference if we were both ordinary Muggles. As for being old enough to be my father--only if you were extremely precocious as a young man, which I don't believe you were--would you be old enough to be my father. Uncle, maybe, but not father."
Severus' lip did that lop-sided curl she so loved, and he growled in his chocolatey-velvet purr, "Uncle, heh? Well, I love you too, my wicked little kitten. So there you have it, and me with it. Where do we go from here, love?"
"Anywhere you say, Severus! Anywhere, anytime, anyway; what ever you say!" Hermione joyously shouted, upsetting the tray as she launched herself across it to tackle the wizard of her dreams, and nearly smother him with her kisses in the process.
Harry fell back in complete exhaustion, panting hard, and wiping the sweat off his face with the hand still bearing the repeating scars 'I must not tell lies'. Elle rolled over to spoon against his left side, and threw her right leg across his muscular thighs, as her right arm encircled Harry's toned abdomen. She let her slender fingers trace little circles in the sweat trailing down his chest; the salty drops that seemingly had her so completely fascinated.
"Harry?" Elle finally whispered. "Harry, what do you feel for me? Anything you say is okay. I know it was just a ritual. But that's not all it was for me. Harry . . . Harry, I think I love you!" She didn't dare raise her eyes to meet his, afraid of what she'd see there; that she'd just been the convenient means of ridding him of the 'burden' of his virginity--nothing more.
Harry froze in amazement. Elspeth, his beautiful dark goddess, had just said she loved him! His stomach felt like he'd just executed a Wronski Free-fall Maneuver a mile above the Quidditch pitch. He couldn't even catch his breath, much less actually speak!
It wasn't until he felt a hot tear sting his chest that his power of speech returned, and he exclaimed, "Elspeth, are you sure? I don't have the 'pretty' speech of Draco, or even the twins for that matter. I don't even know how to tell you how I feel about you . . . how I've secretly loved you for a while now, even before this ritual thing. Can't you just 'Legilimize' me and be done with it?"
Elle gave a watery chuckle, and wiped her eyes and the tip of her nose that had pinked-up. "That won't be necessary, Harry my heart! Everyone knows you don't tell lies," and she took his scarred hand in hers, and tenderly kissed each scar one-by-one.
At some point near dawn, all of the lovers all through the castle drifted off in a magickally-induced sleep. As the first rays of the new day's sun struck the rooftops and highest windows of Hogwarts, each girl was mystically transported back to her own bed, leaving only an indentation of herself behind in the pillow she'd been lying on.
Much later that morning, all the male participants of the ritual began waking up alone throughout the castle. They went about their normal showering routines, dressed, and drifted down to gather in their common room by unspoken mutual agreement. The guys were all cutting self-conscious glances at each other, and began talking about Quidditch, favorite hexes, anything except what had happened last night.
Ron's stomach began giving off ever louder grumbles and growls, and he finally asked plaintively, "Just where the bloody hell is Malfoy? Still primping up in the shower, poncey buggerer?"
Fred and George both smirked, rolled their eyes, and shook their heads in the negative. Neville just looked clueless, as usual. Harry sighed, stood up, and said, "I'll go look for him. Maybe he was with Hermione, and she's beaten him to death."
Harry was leaning on the doorframe of Draco's room, laughing as tears rolled down his cheeks. All the other guys came running, on hearing Harry laughing like a loon. They peered over and around Harry, pressing as far into the 'silencio'd' bedroom as Harry's blocking body would let them.
There, in all the glorious splendor of his perfectly-toned nakedness, Draco Malfoy lay helpless, unable to call for help because of the 'silencio' charm he couldn't reach his wand to release . . . tied spread-eagle to his bed by four Gryffindor neckties.
"Bloody hell," whispered Ron. "I think he really DID get Hermione!"
Severus stopped in mid-scrub to listen carefully. What in the world was that sound that he'd just heard echoing in his black granite shower? Silence. He lathered up his shoulder-length hair with his invention, tea-tree and witch-hazel shampoo, and froze. There it was again! He craned his neck around. Nothing. No-one. Silence.
As he was rinsing his hair, it finally dawned on Severus. He'd heard it again, and discovered to his absolute amazement that he was whistling in the shower! Severus smiled widely, and chuckled to himself. He was happy. Him! The old bat of the dungeons, the greasy git, Snivellus! Fate had finally smiled on his worthless arse, and Severus Snape was happy enough to actually be whistling in his morning shower. How droll! How treacly! How absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!
Now Severus truly had something worth fighting and LIVING for, a reason to not seek death in the coming battle as he'd planned to do; Hermione. Because by all the gods of heaven and earth, Severus Donald Snape truly was deeply in love with Hermione Jane Granger!
In Slytherin House, seven girls were waking up, sore but satisfied, to begin their showers and dressing to face this morning after the ritual. Gristle 'popped' into Hermione's bedroom bearing a gift from Severus. A black velvet box embrodiered with twining serpents of silver and Slytherin-green. It looked to be a jewelers' bracelet box, but when she opened it, to her surprise and pleasure it contained that enchanted silver comb she loved. And a note written in a familiar spidery, but elegant, script:
To my dearest Jane,
Please accept this trivial object as a
token of my eternal adoration.
Sincerely, yours eternally, Donald
Hermione sniffed the parchment, yes! That sweet herbally, sandlewood, and frankincense smell that was distinctly 'Severus'. She smiled dreamily at Gristle, and said, "Thank you, Gristle. Will you tell the Master that I send my thanks and appreciation?" Gristle bobbed her head up and down, and curtsied to Hermione as she replied, "Yes, my Lady. I's will tell Master mos' darek'tly!" and disappeared in a 'pop'.
Instead of the usual white robe, the only article of clothing the girls had been finding to wear, this time the castle house-elfs had brought each girl either her own trunks that she'd brought with her, or provided from the lost and left-behinds sufficient wardrobing for them to be able to appear dressed in pretty much their own tastes, sizes, and style.
All of the girls were waiting for Gillian to come out of her room. She was the tiniest, frail-looking little thing, as well as the youngest of them all, having only just turned seventeen last week. The other six girls had all taken to cossetting and petting Gillian, and the shy, bashful girl had finally started to blossom under their love.
Erika Bonham, who was clad in a black 'Led Zepplin' tee-shirt and hip-hugging Muggle-style flares, her curly honey-blonde hair swinging free and wild, just like Fred liked it--he said it looked 'rebellious'--stood up forcefully and whispered to herself, "If that idiot Longbottom's hurt her, I'll hex his balls the size of watermelons and SWEAR it was an accident!"
Just then Gillian poked her little fairy-like face through a crack in her door, and called for Luna. The two of them had built up as close a friendship as Hermione and Elle had, while nursing Professor MacGonagall in her animagus form. Luna rose gracefully up from her seat, and skipped over to be admitted into Gillian's room. The door was firmly closed behind Luna, and try as they might, no-one could eavesdrop against a 'muffluous' cast by Luna Lovegood.
The two of them emerged from Gillian's room about twenty minutes later. Gillian was radiant; dressed in a Hufflepuff-yellow chiffon sun-dress, her usually mousey-brown hair held back by a cage of her own braided hair, tied with Gryffindor-red ribbons, and the length of it flowing down her slender back. She was absolutely glowing with love and happiness, and a wide smile for all her loving sisters.
"Damn!" whispered Amanda Blake, in total awe. "Neville Longbottom must be truly something else in bed!" Five female heads bobbed in total agreement, and then they hurriedly changed the subject.
Hermione had also opted for a simple sundress, remembering how intently Severus had always watched her figure while she was wearing robes during the time they'd spent together in Salazar's private quarters.
She was also just vain enough to cast a 'glamour' on the dress, changing the white background and simple floral print to a blazing Gryffindor-red background charmed with a print of gamboling golden lions playing leap-frog with Slytherin-green and silver serpents.
If it was her fate to be treated like a scarlet woman and be ostracized by the wizarding world, now her only home, for loving and being loved by Severus Snape--why not only would she wear the color, she'd flaunt it like a badge of courage and honor!
END---CHAPTER---TWELVE