DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters or setting – those belong to JK Rowling, to whom I am eternally grateful for creating the Potterverse. I'm just taking a couple of her characters out for a spin, but promise to return them, only slightly the worse for wear.
A/N 1: This story is AU in that Severus Snape did not die. A rather brainy brunette saved him after Nagini's attack in DH. As much as is possible, I'll make this canon-compliant, though I'm ignoring the epilogue.
A/N 2: Many thanks, as always, to the lovely, talented, and extremely generous-with-her-time Felena1971, my co-author and beta-reader. You might have noticed I picked up the pace here with these last few chapters, and she's stuck right with me, polishing, fact-checking, and fine-tuning everything. Thanks also to my dear friend DJK, who responded immediately when I asked for the name of a well-known horseracing track in England.
Chapter 21: Coming Home
Part one: Hermione
"Severus?"
I am greeted only by silence. I've flooed to his quarters, hoping to catch him before lunch, but his robes hanging on the peg by the door indicate that he has already headed to the Dining Hall – mealtimes are far more casual when school is not in session. I hang my robes as well, looking forward to relaxing with him and talking over the morning's events.
As I head out to join him, however, I pass the still-empty frame of Dilys Derwent. I did promise we would return it when we were done, and I suppose we have no further use for the former Headmistress's services.
"Wronski Feint," I tell the gargoyle at the entrance to the Headmistress's office, my mind's eye seeing Viktor Krum hurtling toward the ground in the daring Quidditch maneuver he made look so effortless. The gargoyle moves smoothly aside, and I ride up the moving spiral staircase.
When I reach the heavy door to the office, I knock, but no one answers. Minerva must be down in the Dining Hall already as well. I would rather not have to carry Dilys Derwent with me to lunch, so I give the door an experimental push, and to my surprise, it opens.
"Minerva?"
No reply.
I see the empty spot where Headmistress Derwent belongs, so I lift the portrait gently and position the cord over the hanger, then stand back to inspect my work. One minor adjustment has it hanging straight. As I turn to leave, however, I find the bright blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore upon me.
"Hello, Hermione," he says kindly. "I have been waiting for an update on Frank and Alice Longbottom, and I do hope you won't make me wait for Dilys to return from her other portrait to get one. Can you tell me what happened?"
"Oh," I say, not wanting to be rude to him. I am reluctant to stay any longer than necessary, as I am not technically supposed to be here. "I can give you the report, Professor, if you like." I suppose Minerva will be at lunch for some time. And she will certainly know I was here and why, when she sees the portrait back in its place. I look around nervously, and see that now all of the other portraits are awake and listening.
"Please do, my dear. We are all anxious for news." He strokes his beard expectantly.
"All right, then," I say. I take a seat in one of the chairs facing the Headmistress's desk, and recap the morning at the hospital.
"Very good, Hermione! I see you have learned much from my old friend Severus this year. How are the two of you getting along?"
"Quite well, Sir," I say.
"I am glad," he says, his smile impish under the silver mustache. "You have had a complicated past with him."
"Yes, sir," I agree with a sigh. I do not want to discuss my relationship with Severus with a portrait of Albus Dumbledore, particularly in front of all these other portraits, the occupants of which are certainly still listening, even if some of them are pretending otherwise.
"First your contentious relationship during your student years," he continues, "then your rescue of him after Nagini's attack, and now more recently I hear you connected in a new way at the Shrieking Shack at Halloween."
My mouth drops open in shock.
"Don't be so surprised, dear," he says. "Though I don't get out much anymore, I assure you, I do still hear quite a bit about what goes on at this school." He chuckles lightly. "Dear me, I do think Severus probably needed a good kissing by then."
"Professor," I say firmly, "I'm sorry. I prefer not to discuss that with you."
"My apologies, Hermione. I am just pleased to hear that you are working so well together. I imagine you have learned a great deal from him this year, yes?"
"Yes, Sir. It has been an extremely interesting year."
"From you, my dear," he chuckles again, "that means a lot."
Too true. When your best friend is Harry Potter, you have a lot of interesting years.
"Is there anything you would like to tell me about your plans for next year?"
"Why do you ask, Professor?"
"Something in your voice – it sounded as though you have some concerns that your future could be dull by comparison to this year."
"Actually, Sir, I am quite concerned about that. I- I have been struggling lately with my career plans, and I don't know where to turn for answers."
"I am happy to listen, though I am not sure how much help I can be. I only ever had one professional aim, myself, and was lucky enough to work here at Hogwarts for many decades. I hope you can find something that makes you as happy as teaching and being Headmaster has made me."
"Thank you, Sir. You are lucky indeed to have been so clear from the beginning about your goals."
"I think that you will find your way is clear also, if you look into your heart."
"Sir, I have spent three years training as a Healer, and now have almost completed my specialty training in Dark Arts Damage Reversal. St. Mungo's will almost certainly make me a job offer, and probably a good one. This is what I have wanted for years. I will be able to help people, protect our Aurors, and put right things that Voldemort and his followers tried to destroy."
"But you are no longer certain it is what you want." His blue eyes are piercing, as if he is looking right into me.
"Sir, I am sure that I still want to help the sick and injured become whole again. And my work with the Longbottoms has made it clear to me that – even so many years after Voldemort's fall – we can still claim new victories for the power of love over the power of hate. The work I am trained to do still fills me with hope."
"And yet, you still sound hesitant, my dear. What is bothering you?"
"I know it must sound ridiculous to you, Sir. I know it makes no sense. But I am no longer able to imagine a future in which I am not working side by side with Severus. My studies with him will be ending soon, and I cannot bear to think about it. I used to look ahead and see many potential paths. Now, I see only emptiness."
Professor Dumbledore surveys me kindly. "Love is not logical, Hermione. You do not need to make sense of your feelings in order for them to be valid."
"I never said…"
"You don't need to say it, dear girl. I know enough of love to recognize it when I see it. And if I may be so bold, it strikes me that the two of you make a good pair. Do you know that he feels the same?"
I hesitate momentarily. Though he has not said it in so many words, I know that Severus loves me, and that our work together has been a source of… well, as close to joy as Severus Snape is likely to allow himself to experience.
When I give a firm nod, the portrait smiles benevolently at me. "Have you told him about your concerns?"
"I haven't. I don't want to let him down. He has been instrumental in my training. If I were to choose a different career, he would be disappointed in me for not putting my training to use."
There is no hope. If I leave him to work elsewhere, I will do work that is meaningful, and make Severus proud, but I will miss him every moment of the day. If I stay here at Hogwarts to be near him, I will need to find another vocation, and we will both know I am not fulfilling my potential.
"Sir," I ask, hesitantly. "You wouldn't happen to know of any upcoming openings on the Hogwarts staff, would you?" It can't hurt to at least find out about my options.
"My dear girl, I do not. And while I know that you would be a capable instructor in any of our subjects – except, perhaps, Flying or Divination – I think we can all agree that your talents would be wasted if you were not working in a field about which you are truly passionate. I'm afraid you will need to find another solution for your dilemma."
"Thank you, Sir," I say, standing to leave. "I'll get to work on that."
"Speak to him, Hermione. Together, you may be able to brew up a prospect you might not otherwise have considered. I know that the combined power of your two remarkable minds can make incredible things happen. You proved that today at St. Mungo's."
"That's true, Professor," I say, feeling somehow more optimistic. "If we can make Frank and Alice Longbottom speak again after two decades, who knows what else we can accomplish together?"
"I have no doubt that you will find something perfect," he says, and his blue eyes sparkle behind his spectacles. "Just follow your heart."
Part two: Severus
"How did it go, Severus?"
Minerva has left her seat at the center of the staff table and taken Hermione's empty chair.
Poppy Pomfrey, on her other side, leans across her lunch to listen as well. "Yes, Severus, do tell!"
I summarize the morning's developments for them, which is quite satisfying, as my retelling leaves them both with their mouths hanging open in an extremely unprofessional manner.
"That's incredible," gasps Poppy finally. "The Longbottoms' insanity had been considered irreversible by all the experts!"
"The experts did not factor Hermione Granger into their assessments," I tell her. "When she is involved, one must reexamine all assumptions of what is possible." As I have had to reexamine all of my assumptions about my future. "The witch has remarkable tenacity and drive. She tends to get what she wants, as I am sure you have noticed."
"I have indeed noticed that," Minerva chuckles. "My, what a gift you two have given us. To have Frank and Alice back…." Her eyes glisten, and her voice breaks – the blubbering old biddy. "You have done a wonderful thing, Severus. I am so grateful to you."
"The credit is not mine, Minerva," I inform her. "Albus kept it a secret to maintain my cover, but I attempted to create a restorative potion for the Longbottoms two decades ago, and met with no success at all. Hermione's meticulous research and creative problem-solving were what made our current attempt as successful as it was. I did not do this alone, and could not have done it without her."
"Modesty, Severus!" Minerva raises her eyebrows in surprise. "I did not know you had it in you."
Poppy chuckles in agreement.
I scowl at them both. "No, Minereva, honesty, not modesty. You know I do not mince words."
"Nor do I," Hermione says, now standing directly in front of us. This is the first real opportunity I have had to admire the work of the house elf who assisted us this morning. Hermione is lovelier than ever in a lavender blouse, her skirt a floral print that falls softly to just below her knees. We were deep enough in our conversation that we did not hear her enter, despite the noise her heels must have made echoing in the nearly empty Dining Hall. It is clear that others in the Hall noticed her approach, as all eyes are upon her now.
"So let me be plain," she continues. "Headmistress, you are in my chair, and I am a very hungry witch who would greatly appreciate being able to sit next to our brilliant Potions master."
Minerva rises, and when Hermione steps around the table to take her place, Minerva hugs her tightly. "Congratulations, dear," she says. "Such great news. I'm so happy for you both."
"What is it?" calls Rolanda Hooch from several seats down the table. "Did those two finally announce their engagement or something?"
"No, they created a miraculous potion," announces Minerva. "I'll ask them to tell us all about it at the first staff meeting after the holiday."
Hermione sits, finally, flushed with excitement, and perhaps a little embarrassment. There is a distinct possibility that some bulbadox powder might find its way onto Rolanda Hooch's broomstick.
"Are you free after lunch?" she asks me. "I would like to tell you about a discussion I had with Healer Dennison just before I left the hospital."
"I am indeed free after lunch," I reply. "Do you need a hand with something?"
I slip my hand furtively underneath the table, and slide it up her bare thigh.
"Yes!" she says, a bit too enthusiastically for the lunch table, as I brush her pubic curls with my knuckles. "Shall I come to the lab, then, after we eat?"
"Work, work, work," chides Poppy, from Hermione's other side. "Don't you think you could take a break to celebrate today's success?"
"Never fear, Poppy," I tell her, repeating my stroke up Hermione's heated thigh and watching her chest rise and fall more rapidly. "I will make sure that Hermione gets some well deserved rest." She always sleeps more soundly after sex.
"Thank you, Severus, for being the voice of reason. At least one of you has some self-control. If I know Hermione, she would just keep going and going until she collapsed, given half a chance."
Hermione bursts out laughing, her body rocking conveniently against my knuckles. She gasps, and passes it off as part of her laughing fit.
"What in Merlin's name is so funny, Hermione?"
"You- you just know me so well, Poppy," she laughs, opening her thighs wider under the thick damask tablecloth. "I do tend to keep going until I can't take anymore."
"I didn't think it was all THAT funny," the older witch replies dryly.
"I'm just overtired and giddy," says Hermione, as I uncurl my fingers, and slide one of them into her waiting heat. "I- I can't believe how loooong, ah…, this day has been already."
"Then you listen to Severus, dear. I don't want you working all night. When he says it's time to go to bed, you listen to him."
"I will, Poppy," she promises, another laugh threatening.
Yes, witch, you will listen when I say it is time to get into my bed.
"I shall make sure she stops working at a reasonable hour, Poppy. Even if I have to tie her hands to get her to stop."
Hermione had been about to take a sip of her pumpkin juice, but at my pronouncement, the glass slips from her trembling hand and spills all over the table. She puts her elbows on the table in the middle of the orange puddle, and buries her face in her hands, laughing.
"Oh, dear," cries Poppy. "You're soaking wet!"
"I am," she wails, now laughing so hard she has tears running down her face.
"I'll clean her up, Poppy," I mutter. With both hands now above the table, I use my wand to siphon off the juice.
"Come, Hermione," I say. "Let us get this debriefing out of the way, and then you can have a Dreamless Sleep potion and rest up." Having returned her skirt to its proper arrangement back around her knees, I pull her to her feet, and drag her toward the exit. Every eye is upon us as we leave.
"She just needs some sleep," I announce. "Her morning has been extremely exhausting, and she has been working too many late nights. Please, no visitors for her this evening – she needs to rest."
"Thank you, Severus, for taking such good care of our Hermione," says Minerva. "Please see to it that she gets whatever she needs so that she feels better tomorrow."
"Oh, he'll give her what she needs, all right." My back is turned toward the staff table as we head for the door, but I have no doubt that it was Rolanda Hooch again.
"That is quite enough, Rolanda" says Minerva, confirming my estimation.
Part three: Hermione
When the door closes behind us, Severus roars with the laughter he must have been holding in for several minutes.
I hit him, despite what he will probably say about my reflexes later.
"Severus Snape, you are incorrigible! I cannot believe you said what you said, and did what you did!" The Entrance Hall is empty, as everyone else is still inside, eating. And, quite likely, talking about us. Still, one can't be too careful. I pull him behind a tapestry into one of the many secret passageways around the school. "Next time, you will be the one getting the spanking." I swat him on his bum.
"Might I remind you, my dear," he says silkily, "that you are the one with a bare bottom for the rest of the week, and therefore ripe for a spanking." He slides his hand up under my skirt and caresses my bum before giving it a playful smack.
"If I did happen to need a reminder, your little act in the Dining Hall would have been quite effective," I say. "But actually, your reminder, while extremely… ah, pleasurable… was unnecessary. I've been acutely aware of my knickerless state all day."
"As have I," he whispers into my ear as he pulls me into a languid kiss, his long fingers pressing into my bare bum.
"How many duels would I have to win," he rumbles enticingly into my ear when I pull away for oxygen, "to extend this arrangement through the remainder of the school year?"
"Win? You only 'won' because I threw the match to get you into bed faster."
"Then let me rephrase my question," he says, holding my jaw so that he looks down hungrily into my eyes. "How many duels would you have to let me win for me to be able to extend this arrangement until the last day of term?"
"I don't know," I say, taking his hand in mine and leading him deeper into the passageway. "I'll have to think about it." I'm actually enjoying going sans underpants. I have felt sexy all day, even while eating breakfast in the tearoom at St. Mungo's, or reporting to Neville on my examination of his parents. He wouldn't have to 'win' any more duels at all. Still, I should make him work for it – he'll appreciate it more if he does.
"By the way," he says from behind me as we turn a corner, "do you have any idea where you are taking me?"
"Er, no, actually," I admit. "I haven't really been paying attention. I was just getting us away from the Dining Hall."
He pulls me into another kiss, pressing me into the stone wall of the passage, and taking my breath away. When he releases me, I am gasping for air, and my heart is pounding. He looks around, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I do believe that you are taking us to the library."
"The library!" I laugh. "My feet must be going there automatically, out of habit."
"Or perhaps your feet are hoping you will finally fulfill your fantasies of sitting in the library, attempting to study Potions, with me disillusioned under your table, making you squirm with delight, so that you have to stuff your fist into your mouth to keep from moaning loudly enough to attract Madam Pince."
"I have not been having such fantasies!" But I will now…
"I don't believe you. Let me take a look and see," he says, drawing his wand and looking into my eyes.
"That's not fair," I protest, looking away, so that he can't get the necessary eye contact to perform Legilimency. "Of course it'll be in there now that you've planted the seed!"
"Then let me look and see what fantasies you do have," he says.
"Merlin, Severus," I say as I turn and begin walking again. He follows close behind. "That sounds so… intimate. Having you penetrate my mind, and see my fantasies."
"Does that mean no, you won't let me?"
"No," I say, stopping, and taking a very deep breath. I turn to face him, and say very quickly, all in one breath before I run out of nerve, "It's-a-yes-because-even-though-it-scares-me-a-little-it-excites-me-a-lot."
"Then gather your Gryffindor courage, witch, and let me know you completely."
Even if he hadn't said it low and rumbling in my ear, that would have made me melt. To open myself that much to him… it actually sounds more sexual than intercourse. I'm going to let him penetrate me in every respect – not just my body, but my very soul.
"Not here," I tell him, breathlessly. We begin walking again, and now I know exactly where I am headed. "Will you return the favor?" I ask, without looking back at him. "Would you let me into your mind, as well?"
"I have told you in the past that you would not like what you found there."
"And I have told you in the past that I embrace everything about you, Severus – the dark and the light that combine to make you who you are. Will you let me know you completely, too?"
We emerge from behind a painting of several children playing in a meadow. "Hey, watch this," yells one of them, hanging by his knees from the branch of crabapple tree.
"Very nice, Charles," I tell the boy.
"Salazar's sandals, Hermione," Severus says, amazed. "Are you on a first name basis with all the portraits in the castle, in addition to all the house-elves?"
"No," I laugh, "but Charles loves to show off for me when I come past here almost every day."
"Oh, of course," he says, looking up and down the corridor, "we are near your quarters."
"Actually, Severus," I say, seeing an opportunity. "I have spoken with several portraits today. One of them mentioned you."
"Albus," he says grimly. "When did this conversation take place?"
"I returned Headmistress Derwent to Minerva's office before coming down to lunch, and he asked about our progress with the Longbottoms."
"And then, I assume, the conversation turned to matters that are none of the old man's concern."
"He asked how we were getting along, and I told him that I have had an extraordinary year working with you, and… that I will be very sorry when it ends."
"Albus has a nasty habit of sticking that crooked nose of his into everyone's business. I can only imagine his delight to hear that you are enjoying our time together."
"Severus, will you be sorry, too, when the term ends, and my advanced training with you is complete?"
He gathers me into his arms, and kisses me tenderly.
Charles and his playmates in the portrait snicker.
Severus releases me, and scowls at the painted children, who shriek, and hide behind the tree. He rolls his eyes, and takes my hand. "Let us continue this discussion someplace more comfortable," he says, with a gesture in the direction of my quarters, "where we will not have an audience of feral brats."
"Sorry, Charles," I whisper to the boy as Severus tugs me forward.
Part four: Severus
"Much better," I say, pulling her down onto the couch next to me. Crookshanks leaps up and begins walking across both our laps, arching his back and purring loudly. I suppose he has missed her, and I stroke the cat absently. Ugly thing. I scratch him behind the ears. "Now what are you going on about?" I ask Hermione. "Of course my days will seem much emptier once the term is over and you find work somewhere. I shall have to find solace in redoubling my efforts to frighten the new first years."
Tears gather in the corners of her eyes, and I fight the urge to brush them away for her.
"Do not waste your tears on the little dunderheads, Hermione," I tell her, even though I know that concern for next year's new students is not the source of her emotion. "A terrifying teacher is an essential part of the Hogwarts experience. I would be remiss if I did not play my role to the very best of my abilities."
"Severus," she whispers, "I can't express how much I will miss working with you."
"Assuming you do not accept work on another continent, we will still be able to see each other in the evenings, and spend the night together as often as you wish." I will not hold her back from her career goals. "It will be best if you find an apartment with a fireplace, of course, unless we want to use Portkeys all the time."
"Healer Dennison hinted that St. Mungo's was likely to make me a good offer," she says, miserably.
"How insensitive of him," I say, my voice laced with sarcasm. That would be a very lucrative offer for her. London is very accessible. She will do well at St. Mungo's – there will be a constant influx of interesting cases, and she will be able to follow the Longbottoms' progress. She will be near Potter and Lovegood, and much closer to her parents… In fact, I realize with a sharp stab of regret, she may develop such an active social life that she will not even want to come to me at Hogwarts nightly.
"I know it is what I am supposed to want, Severus," she says softly. She pets the cat, too, not meeting my eyes. "I've worked so hard for it for so many years. But now… after this year with you… when I try to imagine it, it seems all wrong."
I catch her hand in mine, and she looks up, searching my face for something. An admission, perhaps. Maybe all she needs is to know that I feel the same way.
"It has indeed been an extraordinary year," I tell her. "And the contrast between working privately with a gifted potion maker, whose company I find stimulating, and attempting to teach a classroom full of unappreciative morons…" It is hard to imagine two experiences more divergent. "By comparison, my usual work will seem even more tedious than in years past."
"Maybe I can consult with you from time to time on the most challenging cases," she suggests, hopefully.
"Of course," I say. "Any future collaboration would be a welcome diversion from the monotony of teaching basic Potions and brewing endless supplies of Skele-gro and Pepperup Potion for Poppy."
"Why do you keep doing it, Severus?"
"For that one student in hundreds, the diamond in the rough who has the talent and desire and the potential to be great. That one student who needs me to unlock the secrets of Potions and teach him what he needs to reach that potential."
"Or her," she scowls. "When the next one comes along, you'll probably forget all about me."
"Not bloody likely," I laugh. "Are you jealous?"
She blushes, which looks delicious on her. "Maybe a bit," she admits. "I do want you to enjoy your work, of course, but it's hard to imagine not being jealous of your next protégé."
I lift Crookshanks, who has fallen asleep on my lap, and place him rather unceremoniously on the floor. "Come here, witch," I growl at Hermione. I pull her onto my lap, and begin to unbutton her blouse. "I like it when you act a bit possessive."
"Yes," she says, now unbuttoning my shirt. "I might have to floo to your quarters during free periods, and remind you that you are mine."
"But then when shall I find time to mark substandard essays?" I ask, as I slip her brassiere straps off of her shoulders.
"Get a house-elf to put a T on all of them for you," she says as I lower my mouth to her pert breasts. "No one will ever know the difference."
"I think I've been a bad influence on you," I tell her, as her hands fumble with my trousers.
"Oh, I know for certain that you have," she agrees, finally freeing my already erect member, and easing herself onto me.
"My, my, we are in a hurry," I tease her.
"What hurry?" she gasps. "You started this at lunch ages ago."
She is in a hurry, though, and rides me as if she were trying to win the Ascot Gold Cup. A few minutes later, she falls back, panting, and now sticky with my seed as well as her spilled pumpkin juice.
"Oh my gods," she says, covering her face with her hands. "I don't know where that came from. I- I guess it's been such an intense day that I needed the release."
"Happy to be of service," I grumble.
"Just practicing for those free period quickies?"
"My free periods are a full hour long, Hermione."
"Then you'll still have plenty of time left to grade those essays," she says. She smirks at me unrepentantly.
"Let's get you cleaned up," I say, standing, removing my rumpled clothing, and moving toward her bathroom. "Where do you keep those musical soap bubbles?"
She follows me, still wearing her skirt and heels, her shirt and bra left behind by the couch. "Here," she says, summoning the Tranquil Tones Bubble Bath and adding a fistful of powder to the warm bath I am drawing for us.
I pull her close, and rumble into her ear, "The next time, I shall set the pace, and it will be so torturously slow that you will beg me for more until you can no longer speak." I feel her quiver in my arms. I reach behind her, unzip her skirt, and slide it over her full hips. It pools onto the floor. She starts to step out of her shoes, and I stop her with a shake of my head. "I'll take that," I say, relieving her of her wand. "Now go get us some of that elf-made wine and bring it in here." I climb into the tub, sinking into the warmth, and admiring the view.
Though she lifts one eyebrow at me, she does as she is told, turning on her heel and coming back moments later carrying the bottle in one hand, and two pieces of stemware in the other. When she pauses in the doorway, my eyes sweep slowly down this vision, wanting to burn each detail into my visual cortex. In the steamy bathroom, she looks like a figure of pure fantasy that just materialized out of a cloud – her hair dark and wild, loose around her shoulders; her skin pink and soft in the heat; her womanly curves and long shapely legs ending in black pumps.
I swallow hard, as I find myself suddenly with far too much saliva in my mouth. Oh yes. I will take my time with her later this afternoon. I will place burning kisses onto every bit of her perfect flesh. Twice. At least.
"Your wine," she smirks, stepping out of her shoes. She pours a goblet and hands it to me, then pours another for herself and climbs in, leaving the bottle on the floor near the tap.
"No need for Legilimency for you to get an idea of my fantasies," I say, realizing that the Tranquil Tones Bubbles are already loosening my tongue, as I would never normally share this much aloud. "You just fulfilled one of them."
"Entering a room with only high heels and a bottle of wine?" she chuckles.
"That is the one, yes." I close my eyes, and inhale deeply, enjoying the rich oaken notes of the wine's aroma before taking a sip.
"You have not had a fantasy like that," she says skeptically, drinking from her own goblet.
"Well, if not, then I certainly should have," I say, laughing.
"You laugh a lot more when you are relaxed, Severus. It's entrancing. I love to hear your laugh."
"You flatter me," I tell her. "It is the music, not my laugh, that has you so entranced." As each bubble pops, it releases a note. Together, they create a soft and soothing harmony, a gentle improvisational jazz number of sorts, with new notes arising as older ones fade away. Tension seems to melt away under their influence.
"It is wonderfully restful, isn't it? I'm so glad you suggested it."
"I do have an ulterior motive, of course."
"Such a Slytherin," she sighs, drinking more wine. "You're still trying to get into my mind, aren't you?"
"I am," I confess. "You said, in the passageway, that you found the prospect slightly alarming. I hoped to put you more at ease."
"I'm easy," she giggles. "It worked."
"Then you will open yourself to me?"
"All the way, love."
"Then look at me, and I'll slide inside."
"Ooooh," she sighs, and her dark chocolate eyes meet mine, full of trust, full of love.
Part five: Hermione
Having Severus inside my mind by invitation is an intensely pleasurable experience. Though I feel him inside me, I do not feel violated in any way. Rather, I have a sensation of being completely accepted for everything that I am – exposed, but honored, rather than judged. I have allowed myself to be utterly vulnerable, and yet I feel safe in his care. It is a rush, a high, to be known so intimately.
When he pulls out, he is quiet. I suppose it must have been an intense experience for him, too. It was probably his first foray into the mind of someone who loves him.
I smile at him, tentatively, checking to see that he is all right. He nods, silently, and downs the rest of his wine in one gulp – very unlike him.
"Severus?"
"You want a child," he says. It isn't a question.
"Severus, love," I say, crossing the tub and placing a hand on his shoulder, "what would make you think so?" I have not thought about having children since I broke up with Ron.
"Images – of a woman holding a baby at her breast, singing a baby to sleep…"
"Those are not my fantasies, Severus. They are Alice Longbottom's memories. I saw them just this morning, so I suppose they are on the top of my mind."
"I could tell that they were not fantasies," he says slowly. "The detail was too vivid – they were obviously memories, and obviously not yours, so I had guessed at the source. The longing that surrounded them, however, was yours. You never told me you wanted a child. I suppose I should have guessed it, given your age, but… you always seemed to be more interested in the life of the mind than in domestic things like childrearing."
I can't tell if he is upset, or just surprised.
"Don't put too much stock in what you found," I tell him softly. "Alice's memories were beautiful, but I don't know yet if I want a child of my own. I did feel an ache when I saw them, and I was not sure if the sensation came from her or from me. I may have felt a longing for what those memories represented to me – family, or the love of my own mother, or perhaps even just love in general. It may not mean what you think it means, and I suspect that the raw emotion of witnessing those images may change over time anyway. It's only been a few hours, and I'm still reeling from the experience."
"Of course," he says, quietly.
"How did it make you feel, when you found those visions and felt that ache in me? You – you seem stunned."
"Quite honestly, I do not know how I feel. You know I am not overly fond of children. Then again, I have never considered having any of my own. They have never before been an option, so I have never made a conscious decision about becoming a parent."
Dear sweet mother of Merlin – I cannot believe my ears. If Severus Snape thought I wanted children, I would have imagined him running as fast as possible away from me. He actually sounds as though he would be willing to consider the concept! Having children of his own is "an option"? This is some powerful bubble bath.
"Severus," I say gently, bringing him out of a moment of deep reverie. "You never answered me in the passageway. Will you return the favor and allow me into your mind?"
"I had to employ my shield for so long it almost seems a part of me. It may be difficult for me to let it down, though for you I will try. These bubbles increase my odds of succeeding."
He reaches over to the countertop. "No," I say, and his hand stops inches from my wand, hovering. "I don't think I need it."
"Wandless, even?" He laughs again, and brings his arm back into the tub, and wraps it around my waist. "Come then," he says, looking into my eyes. "Let's see what you can do."
I slide back a couple of feet to more comfortably meet the black depths of his eyes. I feel very privileged that he has chosen to open himself to me, after so many years of performing Occlumency as a means of survival. He is offering me a gift, and I accept it without qualification. I will honor whatever I may find in him.
"Legilimens," I say softly, and I feel as though I am tipping forward, pulled toward the irresistible gravity of twin black holes.
So many visions of myself! I am filled with wonder as image changes into image: the two of us brewing potions together, talking to Lily's portrait together, kissing for the first time in front of the Shrieking Shack, swaying together at the Valentine's Dance, making love in his bed. Geoffrey Crawford carries me in, unconscious. I kneel in blood-red water mimicking Severus's spell to knit Draco back together. I kneel over a bleeding and dying Severus, begging him to stay with me. I walk into the bathroom, carrying wine and wearing nothing.
I notice an image with a softer quality to it, and turn my attention gently that way – curious, but without expectations. Fantasies – Severus's fantasies. Many are very graphic sexual images – some of which surprise me, but I take them all in without judgment. However, Severus has several fantasies that don't fit into that category. In one, Severus and I are on a doorstep of a home, where he is shaking hands with a nondescript middle aged man; a middle aged woman pulls me into a hug and welcomes me home. In another, we hike through a jungle, collecting specimens of mosses and flower pollen. I see myself lounging on a couch, hugely pregnant, my feet in Severus's lap as he massages them. I walk down a flight of stairs into a Potions laboratory, carrying a bowl of unidentifiable ingredients, and join him at a work surface where he is slicing something green.
Conspicuously absent are any memories of his Death Eater days, of Voldemort, or, even, of teaching. Nothing from his childhood, nothing of his friendship with the young Lily Evans. As soon as these thoughts form, I find myself sliding out of the black pools of his eyes, and I am back in the warmth of my bath.
"You are doing it again," he says gently, as he reaches out to brush tears from my cheek. "Why does performing Legilimency make you cry?"
Because you want to meet my parents. Because you want to share your life with me. Because you love me.
"Because I love you, Severus. And I am so moved that you shared yourself with me this way."
Part six: Severus
"The tears are not from seeing frightening events from my past?"
"Not at all," she says. "In fact, that's when I lost the connection – I noticed that the memories I did see were all fairly recent, and all focused on me. There were no images from your days of espionage at all. Nothing, in fact, from before the Battle of Hogwarts. And as soon as I filled my teacup with those expectations, I lost it."
So tactful. She gracefully managed to avoid mentioning Voldemort, Death Eaters, or the fact that she saved me from certain death.
"Perhaps I was not as successful as I had hoped at lowering my shield. Those parts of my life that were most dangerous – the times when my shield was indispensable – were not available to you."
She snuggles into my chest. "It's all right, Severus. You did a wonderful job of letting me in." She kisses me deeply, slowly, her tongue probing, and again, I let her in. She tastes like wine and tears. When she breaks the kiss, she asks, "How did it feel for you, having me in your mind? You are such a private man that I suppose it could have been unsettling for you…"
"It was an entirely new sensation for me, to have a welcome, invited presence inside my mind – but it was not unpleasant. I imagine it was similar to what you felt."
"I don't know about that, Severus," she says, all seriousness. "For a woman, being penetrated by her lover is exciting and pleasurable, and when you performed Legilimency on me it was a similar sensation. For a man, used to entering his partner, rather than being entered himself, it seems as though it could be quite different – an unwelcome vulnerability. This time you were open to me, instead of the other way around – it was I who penetrated you, for once."
"A woman, using fingers, tongue, or tool, may certainly provide her lover with the experience of being penetrated."
"Yes, I… er… saw that." She blushes, but does not look away. "And you would like…?"
"You wanted to see my fantasies. Now you have seen them. What you do, or do not do, with that knowledge is up to you. I understand that your interests may not run completely parallel to mine. I have always tended toward the, ah…, adventurous."
"Good Godric, Severus," she says airily, waving away my concerns. "You are talking to a Gryffindor. We thrive on adventure."
"And Lily teased me for being drawn to another woman in red," I laugh. "Now the appeal of Gryffindor women becomes clear. I have been seeking a woman who will not run screaming if I exhibit a few kinks!"
"Speaking of kinks, Severus," she says, smirking. "I have a new fantasy."
"How promising."
"The next time we make love, I want you all the way inside me – body and mind. Double penetration, as it were. Do you think you can make that happen?"
"I believe that can be arranged." She doesn't want me to just fuck her senseless. She wants to be mind-fucked as well. Despite the bubbles, I am no longer tranquil. Quite the contrary – I would like to fulfill this fantasy of hers as soon as possible. I pull the plug, and the water begins to drain from the tub.
"Excellent," she says, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I want you to feel my desires as they arise, and to feel the sensations I feel. I want you to experience my orgasm from within and without simultaneously."
"You, witch, are an evil genius," I say, as I reach for a towel. "If I could award you house points for creative use of Legilimency, I would."
"In lieu of house points to Gryffindor," she says, retrieving her wand, "I will accept a bit of redecorating." She flicks her wand, and her bedroom suddenly features a standard-issue student bed, complete with hangings in her house colors. One of her fantasies – to bed the Potions master in her old dormitory four-poster.
"I can do better than that," I tell her. I heartily endorse any and all naughty school-girl fantasies she would like to indulge.
"Oh," she exclaims, as her bedroom walls twist and warp, until they take on the appearance of the interior of the girls' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, with two extra beds, just as it was when she shared a room with Miss Patil and Miss Brown. "My gods, Severus," she says, touching the walls and looking around her, awestruck. "How do you know exactly what my dorm looked like?"
"Your memories and my conjectures. Now, I believe Poppy told you to listen to me when I said it was time for bed?"
"Yes, Sir," she giggles as she draws aside the red and gold hangings and climbs in, beckoning for me to follow. The hangings swing back into place behind us, and we are enclosed in our own private world. "It's perfect," she sighs, as she sinks back into the pillows, pulling me down on top of her.
"Not quite," I tell her. I conjure our house ties, and she watches, curiously. "To symbolize our interhouse solidarity."
I tie the green and silver one around my neck. She shrugs, and reaches for the red and gold one to do the same, but I stop her hand.
"Sit up," I instruct her. She does, her questioning eyes on mine. "Now turn around."
When she is facing away from me, sitting on her heels, I raise the Gryffindor tie over her head and place it over her eyes, tying it behind her head.
"But Severus, I thought you were going to use Legilimency…"
"Patience, witch," I growl into her ear. "I intend to play with you for a while before I open you wide and plunge inside."
"Oh my gods," she gasps, and she quivers at this prospect.
"Now put your hands together in front of you," I tell her, and remove my own tie, slipping it over her wrists and making sure it is snug before knotting it.
"What are you going to do to me?" There is a touch of fear in her voice. She does not like feeling helpless.
"Whatever I like," I answer, and she squirms and groans in response.
Part seven: Hermione
I'm losing my fucking mind.
The strokes and caresses, nips and licks seem to be coming from everywhere at once.
After Severus blindfolded me and bound my wrists together, he began to explore my body with his hands and mouth. Between kisses, he brushed his lips down my ribs, tasted my nipples and my neck, and traced the curve of my hip with his hands. He murmured the most thrilling assurances to me all the while – and the promises of what he plans to do made me ache even more with want. Then he carefully laid me back on the bed, arms stretched over my head, to make good on his word.
I whimper and moan as he continues his investigation of my every erogenous zone. His slow exploration is heavenly, but I need more. My arousal has been ratcheting up and up and I need some release.
"Severus, my gods, please…" This divine punishment is unhinging me.
He chuckles from the vicinity of my navel, and spreads my thighs, and my flesh burns where his hands touch me.
"Just surrender to the experience, Hermione," he tells me. "Why are you in such a rush? I intend to savor this feast."
Part eight: Severus
Her entire body is tense with desire, her hips practically levitating off the bed, craving contact. I press them into the bed and hold her there, steady, as she strains and curses.
"Relax, witch," I growl. "I will not proceed until you lie still." I sweep my hands down her thighs, urging her to succumb to my ministrations. Little by little, she gains control of herself. I feel her yield under my palms, her flesh melting into my hands.
"Now behave yourself," I tell her. I stroke one finger down her dripping slit, and back up, grazing her swollen clit. Her breasts heave as she attempts to remain still. I can smell her arousal, and want nothing more than to bury my face between her slender thighs, but for the moment, I resist temptation.
"Gods, yes, Severus," she sighs, when I enter her tight passage with two fingers, and swirl them slowly. She holds her breath as I withdraw them, only exhaling again when I slide them back in.
The next time I remove them, I put them in my mouth and suck. "Mmmmm," I say appreciatively, so that even blindfolded she knows exactly what I am doing. "Delicious."
"More," she gasps.
I penetrate her again, gathering more of her juices on my fingers, but this time smear them on her lips until she opens her mouth and pulls my fingers inside, sucking her own essence from them. I replace my fingers with my mouth, kissing her deeply, the tang of her excitement mingling on our tongues. She rocks her hips into me, moaning into my mouth, and grinding her pelvis against my now impossibly hard cock. I slip my hand back down to delve once more into her dripping core.
"Relax," I tell her again, my fingers pumping slowly but rhythmically into her, as I move my lips to her succulent breasts.
"I can't, Severus," she cries. "I'm going to fucking explode…"
I tug gently on her erect nipple with my teeth, then kiss a path back to her soaking pussy. She pants, and bucks her hips again as I approach. Her clitoris is visibly throbbing now, and I cannot deny my hunger for her any longer. I fall to the feast, licking, nibbling, and sucking, thrusting my tongue into her. She comes to within reach of her climax, and I am enjoying myself too much to prolong her exquisite torture. I slip my fingers back into her tightening passage, and rake my tongue sideways across her clitoris. Her inner walls squeeze my fingers and she keens softly for a moment until she convulses around me with a scream.
"Jesus, Severus," she sobs, trembling with aftershocks. "You're fucking killing me."
Part nine: Hermione
He moves up my quivering body and releases my blindfold. His black eyes glitter with lust as he unties my wrists, and rubs each one. "Is there any pain?" he asks softly. I shake my head, incapable of speech. Merlin, if that was the prelude, I am not at all sure I will survive what comes next.
His cock presses painfully into my hipbone, making me gasp. Now that I have the use of my hands and eyes, I reach for him – he is as hard as an iron bar. His cock is so engorged it is almost purple. We groan simultaneously when I circle my fingers around his base and stroke slowly up to the tip. I lower my mouth to him, wanting the satin texture against my lips, and he allows it, but only for a moment. He catches my wrist, kisses it gently, and then – unbelievable! – he uses my tie to bind my goddamned wrist to the bedpost.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I demand.
"Whatever I like," he repeats, smirking broadly, as he binds the other wrist to the opposite bedpost with the Slytherin tie. "And I did quite like the fantasy you described in the bathtub."
Oh, gods yes. "Did I mention anything about bondage in my request?" I protest weakly.
"No," he replies. "The bondage is part of MY fantasy. You did suggest that my fantasies were not too adventurous for a Gryffindor like yourself?"
He looks intently into my eyes. I do recall saying something like that. Some of his fantasies, however, may take a bit of working up to – the threesome with Luna, for example.
"That is something you would consider, then?"
Oh shit, he heard that thought – I am, as I had requested, laid bare before him, body and mind. I feel his presence permeate my consciousness.
"Perhaps, one day, if she were open to it," I say. And I think she would be – Severus excites her, and I have always suspected she has a fondness for me that crosses the bounds of pure friendship.
"Yes, I think she would fuck you given half a chance, and I, for one, would enjoy watching."
Severus, you kinky son of a banshee, can we please just focus on what we're doing right now?
"By all means," he says, and he raises my left leg to his shoulder, and positions himself at my entrance.
Part ten: Severus and Hermione
It is a bizarre replay of our first time together, except now we are both visible, and now I share her thoughts and sensations.
I enter her slowly, pushing into her hot wet tightness, sinking balls deep into her, but feeling as though I have gone straight through her, as though we occupy the same space.
Yes, so thick, so hard, so deep, Severus. Take me, claim me, fill me, fuck me.
I grasp her by the hips, thrusting slowly. The sense of being inside her, while experiencing her sense of being filled by me, is unbelievably intense. If I go any faster, I will spontaneously combust.
We move together, flawlessly, seamlessly. I sense her every desire as it is born in her mind, adjusting my tempo, depth, and angle to give her exactly what she needs even before she knows she needs it.
"My gods, Severus," she cries ecstatically, and I feel her bliss – share her bliss – it is mine, too. We are one, the connection between us so strong that we have merged into perfect unity.
She wraps her legs around my back, willing me to increase my pace – she wants me to pound her into the mattress, but I know that if I do, I will last only seconds.
"Are you ready?" I grunt, holding back with all my strength. "If I give you want you want, it will be over very quickly."
I'm ready. Give me what I want. Come for me, Severus. I want to feel your hot flood surge into me.
Her thoughts alone are enough to break down my defenses, and I am past the point of no return.
I hammer into her, slamming into her with all my force, feeling her tighten around me, crashing with her over the edge, bursting within her, locked with her in a fiery explosion, molten lava flowing toward the sea.
Yes, yes, my gods, yes…
Part eleven: Hermione
When I awaken, it is dark. Severus is still asleep, draped over me, in this crazy replica of my old dormitory. Rolanda Hooch must have been delighted to have the opportunity to make suggestive remarks about us both missing dinner. I laugh softly at the thought, and Severus stirs.
"I'm sorry, love," I whisper. "Go back to sleep."
"What time is it?" he mumbles.
"I have no idea – I can't find my clock in this new room you made me. But I think it's quite late."
He rolls over, feeling for a wand. He finds mine, on the floor, sticking out from under the four-poster, and waves it lazily over his head, returning the room to its earlier appearance.
Without the hangings that were enclosing us, I can see my clock quite well in the silvery moonlight. "It's almost midnight, Severus."
"What a day," he says, horizontal once more.
"The best," I tell him. "Thank you for this wonderful day."
"Me?" He raises himself on his elbow, and strokes my face. "Look at me, Hermione."
I look. He is breathtakingly beautiful, the strips of moonlight from the mullioned windows accentuating the planes and hollows of his body. He could be carved of stone.
"My face, Hermione," he chuckles.
I raise my eyes to his face, and find myself drawn into his deep dark eyes.
"None of this would have happened were it not for you," he says huskily. "Everything good that happened today was a direct result of your actions and ideas. In fact, I would have missed out on all of this, if for once in your life you had done as I wished and left me to die that night."
He pulls me to him firmly, and kisses me, communicating all the gratitude he has never been able to speak. I return the kiss with interest, my fingers tracing the sculpted angle of his cheekbone and over his jaw to his neck, my lips following the same path. I gently touch the scar that nearly ended his life. Tears form in my eyes as I tenderly kiss the now healed wounds that could have taken him from me before I ever truly knew him.
"Damned good thing I'm so unmanageable," I murmur.
"Damned good," he agrees.
A/N: I tend to do my best writing in the car (or sometimes the shower). In fact, I did some good writing for this chapter in the car and got so excited I missed my exit for home and had to backtrack. Lost a few minutes and was running late to meet my son's school bus, so I was speeding, and trying to imagine how I would explain it to the cop if I got stopped. ("Well you see, I am writing some Potter Porn, and I was brainstorming the final sex scene between Severus Snape and Hermione Granger, and got so distracted that I missed my exit... Trust me, it's hot stuff - you'd miss your exit, too - have a heart!") Luckily, I was not stopped. Because if I was, I probably would be in a mental hospital, instead of here on my couch writing the epilogue. :D