Chapter 12

Severus awoke, unsure how many hours had passed since the two of them had collapsed into sleep. Hermione was curled away from him, her brown curls taking over the pillow, gold flecks dancing in the low light of the fire. He shivered, and reached for his wand on the bedside table, casting a neat little spell on the quilt which pulled itself out from under their naked bodies and floated down on top of them. Hermione stirred, pulling the quilt around herself before scooting backwards until her smooth back was flush against the scarred flesh of his chest.

"Is it morning?" she enquired, sleepily.

"It is not. I would estimate only two or three hours have passed."

"Well that's good." He could hear the smile in her voice and soon had one on his face to match as she reached behind her back over his, cupping his bare buttock with her hand, pulling his hips in to spoon with hers.

His traitorous prick, starved of any action for so very long before that night, registered its interest within seconds, and she soon had a fairly impressive erection pressing against the crack of her arse. He slipped his arm between her head and the pillow and pulled the top half of her body as close to his as the lower part, leaning in to nip her ear with the edge of his teeth.

"And why, may I ask, is it good?" he rumbled against her ear.

"Because it means we have plenty of time left. I do not wish to waste any of our cocooning time on such tiresome things as sleep."

"Insufferable little wench. I have twenty years on you; I shall need sleep, even if you do not require it."

"Twenty years is nothing, especially not for a wizard. You are not even considered middle-aged for a good while yet."

He opened his mouth to argue the point, but was interrupted by the undulating of her rear end against his cock. He defied any wizard to come up with a salient point in the face of that kind of provocation. He lowered his lips to the sensitive skin where her neck met her collarbone and began to lick and suck, feeling her shiver again, although this time not from the cold.

Sure of his welcome, he smoothed his hand over her bare hip and down her leg, slipping it under her thigh and lifting it, curling her leg around him, opening her pussy up wide and positioning himself at her entrance, still wet from the juices of both of their earlier orgasms. He used his hand to guide his cock neatly into her, the decent size of him stretching her blissfully-aching walls; then quickly moved his hand around to place flat across her stomach fixing her in place, bottomed out on the base of his eager prick.

"Ohhh, yes. So nice. So full. Move inside me, Severus." She reached behind her and wrapped a slim arm around his neck, keeping his head close to hers. He reached down and spread her labia with his long fingers, seeking out her clitoris, whilst beginning a slow in-and-out movement with his cock inside her, so different from their frantic first coupling earlier on.

"You are an unexpected pleasure, Hermione." He drawled, skilfully teasing her bud out of hiding with one finger so skilfully that she gasped, "I cannot tell you how much I enjoy fucking you."

Her reply was not anything particularly coherent and he gave a dark chuckle as he increased both the speed and depth of his thrusts, and kept up his incessant soft flicking of her clit. He could not help but be amazed at the scene taking place in his professorial bedchamber at Hogwarts, just a few steps away from the dank classroom where he spent his days lecturing slack-minded adolescents.

He was lying languorously on his side, his slightly oily black head on the pillow; with his fingers and cock in the cunt of a formidably intelligent witch twenty years his junior. She was every wank dream he'd ever had come to life, and more. His hips began to move faster, nailing this girl – young woman – to the hilt, wanting once again to reach his completion inside of her. Her apparent acceptance of him, the delicious consent of the situation – the fact that she was being coerced neither by fear or coin, here of her own volition, was more arousing to him than he could have expected.

A drawn-out mewling from Hermione and her hips frantically moving to increase the friction between them tipped him into a higher gear, and he used the arm that was under her head to reach forward and grasp one of her delicious breasts, gently squeezing it and rolling her nipple between his fingers. At the same time he took hold of her clit with the other hand and applied the same rolling motion to it as her nipple. She let out a soft scream at the unexpected change in pressure, and he felt her vaginal walls clench around his cock.

"Fuck! Fuck, Severus! Please, make me come, push as deep as you can. I want to feel you."

He did not need telling twice, and snapped his hips forward, cramming his large cock hard inside her, almost making him lose his hold on her clitoris. He stayed thrust in deep to maintain contact; and titillated her clit with his continued twiddling, masturbating the erect little bud up and down between his thumb and forefinger relentlessly until she screamed in release, her nectar flooding his cock and her inner walls sucking him in like a vice.

He was so utterly enthralled by the feeling of her coming apart around him that he only needed a few deep thrusts before his panting release joined hers, hot spurts of come were bursting from the end of his joyous cock and mingling with her juices until he was thrusting into a wet, hot mess. He stayed inside her, keeping the sweating, panting girl held close against his chest.

"I am not sure I have ever heard the word fuck from your lips, Miss Granger. I found it curiously erotic."

"I am not sure I ever had cause to say it ... until now." She turned her head slightly and kissed him on the side of his mouth, the only bit she could reach.

They lay in their spooned position for a short while, before he finally pulled out his softened penis and Hermione started to feel a somewhat unpleasant dripping, and suggested a bath.

"Am I to assume that I may be fortunate enough to be invited into this bath? Or were you proposing a solitary activity?"

"We both need to wash. If your tub is big enough, I suggest one lot of water will do us both. I am very happy to share. With you." She grinned. "Then afterwards what about getting into pyjamas and having some supper sprawled out in front of that glorious fire of yours in the sitting room? I have got to admit I really am quite hungry."

Severus privately thought that sounded like one of the best plans for a Friday evening than he'd ever heard in his whole life, but thought it might sound unbearably needy to say so. He rolled away from Hermione and sat up on the bed, putting his feet on the cold floor, pointed his ebony wand at the en-suite bathroom and the wall sconces in the small room flickered to life, and the bath began to fill. Hermione looked impressed.

"Smooth. Is there no end to your talents, Sir?"

"I will allow you to be the judge of that." He smirked. "You go in, and I shall join you. May I fetch your bag from the living room; presumably you will require the aforementioned pyjamas from it?"

She nodded gratefully and stepped into the bathroom, now filled with herby-smelling steam, while he Accio'd her bag from the small table in the next room and placed it on the bed, ready for when she had finished in the bath.

Hermione was impressed by the sumptuous en-suite. Although small, it had everything a busy professor could need, including a large separate stone-walled shower cubicle, but the bath was the focal point of the room. Large and round, it was sunken into a waist-height stone dais and she suspected four people could bathe in there and still be comfortable. She sat on the edge of the dais and swung her legs into the deep, warm water, followed by the rest of her.

Letting loose with an involuntary moan, she sank down into the bubbles, feeling whatever herbal concoction that Snape had added start to work instantly on her sore muscles. The wizard himself put his head around the door and stepped into the bathroom, raising an eyebrow at her blissful moaning.

"I sincerely hope you are not enjoying yourself too much in there?" he walked towards the bath, still naked, and sat on the side of the dais, reaching out a hand to her.

"I can't help it. Everything aches, in a good way I suppose, but aching nonetheless. But whatever you have put in this water seems to be doing a grand job."

He swung his legs into the bath and settled down behind her, pulling her to lie on his chest while he trickled warm water over her hair and shoulders.

"Really Granger, anyone would think I was a Master of Potions, knowing what restorative essences to add to a post-coital bath." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Well, rumour does have it." She teased, grabbing a sponge from the side of bath and cleaning herself, before turning around to do the same for him, squeezing water from the sponge onto his head. Before he could argue, she had soaked his hair through.

"I'll wash it properly for you tomorrow, if you'll permit me? This bath is more for relaxation purposes tonight." She snuggled up against his wet body, bubbles getting squashed between them and going up her nose, making her sneeze. He put his arms around her, planting a kiss on the top of her wet head in agreement.

- xxx –

Hermione had dried herself on couple of Hogwarts fluffiest bath towels, those ones certainly weren't available to the students, and had put on her pyjamas that she'd packed in the beaded bag. She'd finally settled on soft little shorts in a neutral taupe colour, and a plain black stretchy vest top. A pair of fluffy black socks didn't necessarily complete the look to its full effect but were necessary on a cold stone dungeon floor. She plaited her damp hair down one side and watched as Severus left the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips.

She did her best to pretend she was not watching his lithe body as her moved across the bedchamber to his tall chest of drawers. He was slim, but not uncomfortably so, and definitely not lanky. Every muscle and sinew stood out, taut and strong beneath his skin. He was mostly hairless apart from his forearms and lower legs, which had a fine covering of black hair. A soft thatch also travelled from his belly button and ended ... somewhere under the towel. When he turned to open a drawer, she saw the full horror of his back for the first time.

The tell-tale scars put there by the wicked lash of a whip stood out all over, from his neck to his waist, all in different stages of healing. She could not help her sharp intake of breath which made him turn around and glare at her.

"Do not pity me, Hermione. These marks are no more than I deserve."

"This is not pity, Severus. This is concern because some of those scars are unhealed, and look awfully sore."

"Madam Pomfrey has prescribed a balm. I ... do not often apply it; I have not really felt the need to do so."

She took her carved vinewood wand from the beaded bag.

"Accio healing balm!"

He raised his eyebrow but did not admonish her. A large jar of thick yellow cream flew into her hand.

"This is unused." Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Come and sit on the bed with me, please. And before you argue you should know I am very persistent and will not take no for an answer."

Surprisingly without dissent, he walked over the bed and sat down, turning his damaged back to face her. She dipped her hand into the jar and drew it out with a good handful of the gooey concoction. Dividing it between both her hands, she began to spread it out over his back, eliciting the tiniest moan of pleasured relief, so quiet she barely heard it, but it was definitely there. This balm was clearly soothing to him, and she resolved to apply it for him as often as he would allow.

She continued for longer than strictly necessary, rubbing the cream deeply into the largest scars and pressing her thumbs into the least-damaged skin to provide a tension-relieving massage.

"You are done. For now." She leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade.

"Thank you." He did not turn round, but stood up and moved towards his chest of drawers again, seeking out a nightshirt. As he held the bobbled, knee-length grey shirt in his hands, he realised how very old and very ugly it was, and what an inappropriate garment it would be for the suggested sprawling in front of the fire. Holding it in his hands, he turned around.

"I had not given thought to night time attire. I confess my choices are somewhat old-fashioned, driven by habit and comfort."

He looked at her vest and shorts, impossibly cute and extremely sexy, even with the fluffy socks. Eyeing the old granddad nightshirt, she picked up her wand again, slashing the ugly item in two before transfiguring one half into a pair of soft, comfortable lounge pants, and other into a fitted short-sleeved t-shirt, ideally shaped for his slim figure. Both items landed in his waiting hands.

"See?" she told him. "You still have the soft material which I am guessing is soothing to your healing wounds, but now you are ever-so-slightly more modern, Professor." She winked at him.

He dropped his towel to the floor and stood naked in front of her, smirking as he watched her eyes dropped straight to his cock, which twitched obligingly in its black nest, as if it were showing off with a little dance for its audience.

"How rude to stare at your Professor's cock, Miss Granger. Anyone would think you liked it."

She smirked wickedly at him, and he decided it was best to put on the newly transfigured pyjamas before he ravaged her for a third time before supper. The garments felt rather nice, soft against his skin but much less ageing and a little more attractive than the old nightshirt.

He took her hand and led her into the living room, sticking his head in the fire to call for the supper he had ordered from the kitchens before stoking the flame high to warm the room. Almost instantly, a house-elf had cracked into his quarters, setting their supper of thick pumpkin broth and warm buttered rolls on the small table.

"Thank you, Fen," Snape told the elf, in genuine appreciation. "And remember what I told you. You are not to tell anyone that I have a guest in my room."

"Fen is seeing nothing, and saying nothing, Master of Potions! Fen is honoured to serve the Master of Potions all by himself. Fen is most envied by the other house-elves, Sir."

"Thank you," he repeated, "You are an excellent elf. I am most pleased with you."

Fen beamed as if this was the most wonderful thing he had ever been told, and blushed scarlet to the tips of his flapping ears, his tennis-ball sized eyes filling with tears before he cracked out of the room again.

"The praise." Hermione smiled. "They live for the praise. I learned that from Kreacher while we were living at Grimmauld Place."

"Correct. Praise and thanks costs nothing. Wizards and elves are both happy. Even Kreacher, who is the most surly, unpleasant house-elf it has ever been my misfortune to meet. Now come, let us eat."

Hermione wondered how he knew Kreacher so well, before presuming it must be from his time at Grimmauld Place whilst it was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Her empty stomach insisted she turn her attention back to her food and she gobbled down the delicious root broth with speed, dunking the hot bread and making noises of satisfaction, which was a bit embarrassing but it was late and she was hungry. Watching her devour the food with gusto, Severus found himself imitating her, taking pleasure in the creamy texture of the soup, the fiery snap of the excellent seasoning, and the crunch of the hot rolls between his teeth as he bit into them. He found himself rather surprised at his enjoyment of the sensuous pleasure of a simple meal.

She watched him covertly as he ate. A tall man who could stand to gain at least a stone, if not more, was surely not eating terribly well and it gave her a feeling of triumph to watch him appear to enjoy his food, rather than just processing it. It gave her another idea to add to her plan to help Snape, good nutrition would help his healing, and she resolved that when they were together, she would ensure that he ate well.

- xxx –

After supper, they were snuggled up (although she quickly learned that Severus despised the word snuggle) on his hard grey sofa in front of the fire, made more comfortable by lots of blankets and cushions propped around and over them. Hermione was sitting between his thighs with her head resting on his chest while his long legs were stretched out down the length of the sofa. He was twirling a long brown curl between his fingers.

He had not, for as long as he could remember, felt such a sense of relaxation and contentment. In his mind he wrestled with one single thought,

I want her.

Constantly.