UNTOUCHED

A story by Anette S

Disclaimer: Jo is the boss here; I, a faithful subject, am here only to entertain you.

Author's note: Thank you all for the wonderful comments and your ongoing support. All my love and eternal gratitude goes, as always, to my amazing beta Chris.

Love, Anette

Chapter 37

Abandon

It was the still of the night and they'd left their bedroom window cracked open.

Hermione brushed Severus' hair in slow repetitive strokes, feeling his warm breath brush in turn over the skin of her stomach with each unconscious exhalation. It was an interesting contrast to the cooling night air floating in and caressing their entwined legs.

The bedsheet lay haphazardly pulled over their hips, hardly covering them, but she didn't mind the lack of a barrier.

On this night, she wanted to forget about barriers of every kind, and so she focused her attention back upon the man sleeping in her arms. He'd succumbed to sleep without recovering his reasoning, and she revelled in this unique opportunity to observe him in his most unguarded state. It was a welcome change of roles.

Her thoughts wandered back into their earlier explorations. Her hips still tingled, and deep warmth hummed in the centre of her pelvis as she remembered. How naive of her it had been, how presumptuous, to think that she could imagine what making love to him would feel like. That she could prepare. She could not imagine, and a new realization was forming as she lay here, now, stroking his hair and still feeling him all over her.

She didn't know a the realization was so freeing, so new, that she almost laughed. Only the idea of disturbing his rest prevented her from voicing her surprise.

Hermione had lived in her mind from her early years, her intelligence dominating every aspect of her life. When her body was so brutally assaulted during her year in captivity, it was her mind that had shut down the pain, the hurt, the anger, the sorrow. That had become her modus operandi, and ever since her return to the world she'd been trying to find a way out of the past terrors done to her body; trying to be free to feel the touch of the man she loved. Only… she'd been going about it the wrong way.

She'd tried to understand with her mind… when it was a different set of body parts that needed to understand. It was her skin that was hungering for new memories, new experiences. It was her legs and hips that needed to be stretched and pushed open by new hands, loving hands. It was her centre, her vulva that needed to feel the touch of his own passionate body, and repeatedly so, to learn not to be afraid.

How wonderful his touch had felt last night.

Severus moved, and she caressed his back and shoulders until she was assured he'd not waken. Her wonderful lover. Of course she wanted him awake, craved him now in the way of a person long deprived without realizing what was missing. Now, having finally tasted the denied flavour, it was all she yearned for. But he needed his rest; he needed to recover from his own surprising liberation.

She remembered well his initial reaction, so long ago when she'd snuck into the shower after him, applying her own stubborn will to him, demanding to see his body. He was shaken, ashamed, unprepared to accept her. It had surprised him, she remembered clearly, thinking about the look in his eyes, hearing again his stuttered words that so resembled his sighs of last night.

"I cannot..."

She'd reassured him, and he'd come unglued in her arms. She suspected it had been years since he'd last allowed another to see him at his most vulnerable.

A man as sensitive as Severus Snape couldn't have come out of the life he'd led unharmed. Hermione knew he carried his ghosts with him, but they had yet to talk about them. She knew better than to press them out of him. After all, she'd barely told him three sentences about what exactly had been done to her. Fortunately for her, he'd already known, and didn't need elaboration.

Whatever happened to him had left him scared and scarred in much the same way. A casualty of war—sacrificed for his mistake, then for his love and loyalty—the man had suffered long and within the quiet confines of his internal walls.

Some part of him had broken through, last night, and if what she'd seen was any clue, he was indeed a deeply wounded soul.

"Don't let me pin you."

Her eyes watered now at the memory of the fear in his eyes.

Severus moved again, pulling her closer to him, as a pillow. She smiled lovingly, feeling the pressure of his palms at the small of her back. He hummed something only he knew the meaning of as his night growth of beard scratched across her belly.

"I must be dreaming," he whispered.

Not asleep, then. Hermione smiled, her hands sliding down to his shoulders as he lifted his head from its resting place, his eyes sleepily meeting hers. Eyes filled with boyish innocence.

"If you are, then I am, also," she replied dreamily, as his palms slid over her hips and up her ribs. His eyes followed the progress of his hands, his gaze darkening at the sight of her nipples. They hardened in front of his eyes, under the intensity of his gaze, and she shuddered softly when his fingers brushed the undersides of each breast.

"So beautiful," he murmured as he slid up her body, building a trail of kisses to stride upon as he made his way to her mouth.

"Come here." She opened her arms, feeling his chest a moment later pressing her soft breasts. She felt so safe, so protected under the weight of him, and the ever-new rediscovery of that feeling shook her previously held beliefs. Who knew?

Her mouth opened in perfect synchronisation with his own, and they connected in a deep, slow, loving kiss that evoked a different kind of passion from the one they had earlier burned within. This was a kiss of soothing… as calm and languid as the flow of the night around them. With all the time in the world before them, they explored each other, savoured this first connection after the crazy abandon of their lovemaking.

Their lips were still connected as he rolled them until he had her in his arms, his large and graceful hands free to roam her back as she spread on top of him with a murmur of approval.

Her thigh brushed up against his flaccid cock, sticky and spent from their passions. He tensed, and pulled away from her lips, moving his head away from her; closing his eyes.

Hermione brushed her lips down his neck, but he now laid his hands on her shoulders, trying to discourage her. Her mind longed to ask a million questions, but she shut it down firmly. She could feel the shame oozing out of his every pore, and talking about it would not do him any good.

She knew Severus trusted her enough to let go. He'd done it with complete abandon already, and talking about it was a waste of time. Besides, she really wanted to taste his skin… She was craving it as she'd never craved anything before.

"Hermione," he sighed, but still he hid pained eyes from her.

"Yes, my love?" she murmured, her lips busy worshiping his collarbone.

"Please, don't…" he rumbled softly, though she could feel a bit of the tension giving way to acceptance in the press of his muscles.

"Shhh...does this feel good?" she asked guilelessly as she reapplied herself to her task.

"Ughh... of course," he moaned, but his hands found her hair and pushed her up, turning to meet her eyes with great difficulty.

Her eyes burned with love and devotion, and Severus felt like even more of a failure. She readjusted her weight on her side and lifted her hand to caress his face. Her poor baby, her innocent boy.

"You were magnificent, earlier." Her voice was low as she twined fingers in his hair and brought his forehead to touch hers. "My hungry, passionate lover," she added, and watched as the deep pools of his eyes were tinged with pain still left inside.

"I was selfish, and wrong to lose control like that," he replied. He was too weak to move away from her very direct hold, and she used it to her advantage, curling around him like ivy. "I could have hurt you," he said finally. She shook her head.

"You cannot hurt me," she said simply. "I love you, and the sight of you breaking free like that, so passionate... my God, Severus, you were amazing," she whispered.

He huffed indignantly. "You make it sound grand, when it was quite basic."

She was starting to feel hurt, and with great effort pushed the feeling aside. Try to understand where he is coming from. "Why would you say that?" she asked gently, her palm sliding down his chest.

She could feel him tensing again. "Please... don't do... that," he said as he realized her intended destination.

"Don't you want me to?"

He shook his head. And she would have believed him—were she not seeing the evidence to the contrary taking shape a bit lower. She smirked.

Her palm slid and brushed against the semi-erect flesh. "I believe he disagrees," she teased, as her palm closed around his cock.

"Don't touch me!" Severus bit out harshly, turning away from her abruptly, hiding the face that had lost all mask and was plainly showing the torment within. He'd thrown away the sheet covering them, and sat now on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, his back turned away from her.

Tears ran down her face at the evidence of his turmoil. "D-don't you want me?" she asked tremulously as she placed her palm in the centre of his back.

His muscles rippled under her touch. He really didn't deserve her. Any other woman would have run away, yelling obscenities at his behaviour by now.

He cursed, long and out loud, before turning to her. He cringed at the sight of her tears. "And now I've made you cry."

"I cry for you, not because of you," she answered softly.

"Don't pity me," he spat.

Her wounded man. Hermione sat up, naked and unbothered by it. "Answer me," she insisted.

His eyes found hers. "You ask if I want you, and you have just had your hand on my cock. I want you like a thirsting man does a drop of water in the desert. You know that. You felt me shake like a teenaged boy when you touched me. Look at me; take a good, hard look, and see what a pitiful creature I am. One who wants you so badly he can't control even his basic urges. Do I want you?! You should be running away from me right now, because I am no better than them."

The words were evil, but the tone of voice in which they were delivered carried even more malice. Towards himself. She had a realization, a black-and-white image that had appeared in her mind before, and her heart broke again for him.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Why did you turn from me?"

His head was bowed in shame. "You are pitiless. You make me say the words, even though it's clear why."

She moved towards him, her arms itching to take him in their shelter, but she restrained herself. She was seeing him for the first time, so unguarded, so naked, so vulnerable, and it shocked her to see a mirror image of herself.

"Tell me why you turned from me just now? Was my touch so unbearable?"

"It was…." His voice cracked, and her heart sank again. He pulled her into his arms and pinned her to his chest, holding onto her like a life preserver. She raised her eyes to his.

His eyes were dark, so dark, and like a lamb in the power of the magi,he surrendered. She knew those eyes. She loved those eyes. She loved this man.

"Why?" she asked again, aware that she was asking for the last atoms of his courage together with the reply.

"To touch me like that… you don't know how long it has been; you haven't a clue… If you knew how I burned for you, you would run from me, and I would lose you forever. You have enslaved me to you, and I have lost all my guard, reduced to the shaking mess of need that I cannot let you see again. A weak man… an animal who has…thoughts about you, who dreams of your body under him, splayed out for my pleasure... To have you touch me like that… I can't let you see me like that… I can't let you run away."

Severus was shaking again, his eyes unfocused, losing himself in the whirlwind of his thoughts, the words rushing out before notions were clearly formed. She held him tighter.

"Can't you see the animal I am? Can't you see that I am no better than those who hurt you?"

Hermione was appalled he thought so lowly of himself. She knew he was irritated by praise and compliments—but to see the firm belief that he was capable of such evil was altogether another thing.

The young woman wound her arms around his waist and held firm, and he was past the point of having the composure to turn away.

"Listen to me, you irritable man," she said in measured tones. She wanted to call him a daft idiot, but suspected he had heard more than his fair share of insults—some that probably led to his low opinion of his worth—so she struck where she knew he was most receptive. "I love you, broken and bruised as I am; I love you and your body, and whatever it does and wants to do. You have compared yourself to them for the last time, or I swear I will regain my magic only to be able to hex you into next Sunday if I ever again hear you say that!"

He watched her, speechless, eyes red and brimming with, oh God, were those tears?… He felt them come, the dam breaking, and then he was weeping openly as his head fell down in deep shame. He wanted to run, to hide, and his eyes lost their focus again.

"No!" she yelled, desperate now. "You will not hide from me, Severus Snape! Not after everything!" She grabbed his face in her hands and pulled his head up, forcing him to face her.

Such pain was in his eyes, a pain as deep as hers, although differently acquired. "What have they done to you?" she whispered, gently brushing his tears away as they kept falling. She felt his weight as he slumped in her arms, and she hugged his shoulders, pulling him into her bosom like a child. "What have they done to you…." she repeated as she rocked slowly on her heels, kissing his hair softly and brushing it away from his face.

He was gone, a man broken, all of his misgivings flowing from his cracked-open self for the world to see. All the filth carefully safeguarded in the vacuumed recesses of his battered soul was let loose, and it was not pretty. And this woman, this torture-surviving angel, held him and rocked him in her arms instead of running in another direction screaming for her life, barely saved as it was.

He collected himself from her arms, tearing away unwillingly, if such a mild word could describe his reluctance.

Such shame, such defeat. Severus hadn't felt it since his initiation, all those years ago. It was Lucius who had picked him up then, ushering him away when the Imperio was lifted and apparating into the safety of his manor, and it was the Severus Snape the world knew and despised that emerged into the world a few days later. That was the last time he had cried for himself, and the second-to-last time he had cried at all—before this night.

He had moved to sit on his haunches, face hidden in his hands. At least I'm not soiling her with my undeserving tears.

Hermione Granger was having none of it.

She pushed his hands away from his face, and in a heavy voice rasped, "You cannot hide anymore, Severus; it's too late. I have seen you, and I know what you keep inside."

She kissed him then, his cheek, his brow, his lips, removing the salty trails on his skin with her mouth when he was unwilling to let her caress it away with her fingertips a short while before. She moved into him, and his arms held her in, as a drowning man would hold in a buoy, as a sailor would grasp the ropes of his boat. She was his lifeline.

And when she boldly pushed her tongue over his lips, not asking, but demanding admission, they parted as the sea. And plucked him out of his misery.

They groped at each other unceremoniously, like two starving people fighting for a crust of bread. Her hands tangled into his hair, still wet and salty from his tears, as she drank from him, as she tasted his mouth greedily; and he, unable to do anything but hold her tighter, resigned himself to the terrible fate of losing all his walls in front of this woman.

His hands roamed of their own accord over the planes of her back, pulling her even closer. He could not let her go. He could never let her go.

Like two animals in heat they mated with their tongues, their hands… their limbs an entangled mass of arm and leg and passion as she found herself pushing him down onto the bed, straddling his legs, claiming him.

Hermionecould feel him straining between her legs, open over him, his erect cock protruding between their bodies as she leaned over him to drink from his lips again. She had felt his arousal before, when she laid her palm over it, but now she slowed their hungry kiss and rested her forehead against his, her palm trailing downwards.

Her eyes found his—his so troubled, scared and still wet from the tears he'd shed. "May I touch you?" she asked softly.

Severus trembled, eyes now full, but nodded. They had to start this battle, and start it they would. Together.