Author's Note:
I hadn't planned to do any more with this story, but I got a request for a series. So, Torny, this is for you...part two. Hope you like it! :) This one gets a higher rating (R, for sexual themes), and is slightly more angsty than the first one, though not much.
Disclaimer:
Once again, they ain't mine. I didn't invent a single character in the Harry Potter books...doesn't that suck? ;) They all belong to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling.
Archiving:
Please don't. Ask me nicely, though, and I might say yes. You may, of course, link to this story at ff.net.
What Lingers Here
*Part Two*
By Aezara She could feel him watching her. She knew those eyes better than she knew her own, and she didn't need to turn around to know that they were tracking every movement she made. This was a mistake...oh, god...what was I thinking?? She had asked to do a bit of extra-credit work, strictly in the interest of furthering her knowledge of Potions. Right. She doubted that she could be more obvious if she threw herself at his feet. And now she was trapped, stuck here in this classroom with a man that she had loved for half a decade, and she could scarcely remember how to breathe, let alone brew the complicated potion he had assigned her. My hands are shaking, he has to see that...I have to get back in control. She took a deep, steadying breath, and was relieved to find that it worked, at least to a degree. Her heart rate had slowed to an acceptable rate...or if not acceptable, the best that could be expected, given that she was alone in a room with the most amazing, incredible... "Is everything ok?" The concern in his voice was so genuine, she could almost allow herself to believe...NO. I am not going to do this to myself. "Umm...actually, I guess I could use some help. If I'm reading your instructions right, it looks as though I'm supposed to be preparing about six ingredients at the same time, or this won't come out right." He smiled. "I wondered how long it would take you to realize that this is not a potion that one can tackle alone." She looked at him, puzzled, and he smiled again...a genuinely kind smile that no one would believe actually passed his face had she wanted to tell anyone about it. "I thought it might be...fun...if we worked together on this one." Her heart started racing again, and she could barely choke out a reply. "I'd like that." He looked at her for a long moment, then moved slowly to stand beside her at the table. "You start with the dragon scales. Once they have been powdered, they can sit while we prepare the other components." He stood to the side, but still fairly close, while she crushed the scales. By the time she had reduced them to a fine powder, her nerves were stretched to such a point that she thought she would shatter. She looked up at him, and he nodded. "Perfect. Now you shred the Mandrake, and I'll start mixing the Basilisk blood with the Manticore spines. We'll need to finish at about the same time, because the Mandrake needs to begin to steep almost immediately. Ok so far?" She nodded once, finally feeling a bit more at ease. She bent her head to the task, not noticing that instead of beginning his work, he was watching her. She jumped when his hand covered hers, stopping its movement. She glanced up, a question on her lips, but he silenced her with the slightest shake of his head. "Like this." His hand remained upon hers, as though to guide it in the proper way to slice the Mandrake roots. It didn't move, however, and his eyes didn't drop to the worktable; rather, he continued to look at her. As though he was waiting for something, she thought feverishly. "Sir...I..." She had no idea what she was about to say, but she knew it was probably going to be something she would regret. Without warning, though, he cut her off, covering her lips with his own. Caught off guard, she stumbled backward, breaking the kiss. He looked mortified, and she realized that her reflexive action had sent him a very wrong message. She recovered quickly, and moved back toward him, moved into his arms, and kissed him back. This time there was no break, no breath, no pause in the fire that was spreading through her body, threatening to burn her alive. She was aware, faintly, that her hands were moving over him in a way that she had never even allowed herself to imagine, and that he was responding in kind. His fingers brushed through her hair, across her shoulders, down her back... She moaned softly into his mouth, realizing for the first time how much she needed him. She had loved him, wanted him, but not until this moment had she known that without him, her heart might actually stop. She wanted more of him, all of him. His bare skin, his heart, his very soul. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered. "I need you..." Her breathing grew steadily more erratic as his hands moved over her body, setting her ablaze with every touch. She was being consumed by her desire; she felt as though she was drowning in him. "Severus..." she breathed. And suddenly realized that she was holding nothing more than air. This time there had been no alarm to wake her, no interruption. Just reality pouring over her like a sudden, freezing rainstorm. She closed her eyes again, trying to hold on to the dream, but it was like trying to catch a snowflake. She opened her eyes to the sun pouring through her window, and tried to pretend that it was only the glare that was causing the tears to course down her face. No use. She gave up and rolled over, letting the pillow muffle the sound of her sobs.
*Part Two*
By Aezara She could feel him watching her. She knew those eyes better than she knew her own, and she didn't need to turn around to know that they were tracking every movement she made. This was a mistake...oh, god...what was I thinking?? She had asked to do a bit of extra-credit work, strictly in the interest of furthering her knowledge of Potions. Right. She doubted that she could be more obvious if she threw herself at his feet. And now she was trapped, stuck here in this classroom with a man that she had loved for half a decade, and she could scarcely remember how to breathe, let alone brew the complicated potion he had assigned her. My hands are shaking, he has to see that...I have to get back in control. She took a deep, steadying breath, and was relieved to find that it worked, at least to a degree. Her heart rate had slowed to an acceptable rate...or if not acceptable, the best that could be expected, given that she was alone in a room with the most amazing, incredible... "Is everything ok?" The concern in his voice was so genuine, she could almost allow herself to believe...NO. I am not going to do this to myself. "Umm...actually, I guess I could use some help. If I'm reading your instructions right, it looks as though I'm supposed to be preparing about six ingredients at the same time, or this won't come out right." He smiled. "I wondered how long it would take you to realize that this is not a potion that one can tackle alone." She looked at him, puzzled, and he smiled again...a genuinely kind smile that no one would believe actually passed his face had she wanted to tell anyone about it. "I thought it might be...fun...if we worked together on this one." Her heart started racing again, and she could barely choke out a reply. "I'd like that." He looked at her for a long moment, then moved slowly to stand beside her at the table. "You start with the dragon scales. Once they have been powdered, they can sit while we prepare the other components." He stood to the side, but still fairly close, while she crushed the scales. By the time she had reduced them to a fine powder, her nerves were stretched to such a point that she thought she would shatter. She looked up at him, and he nodded. "Perfect. Now you shred the Mandrake, and I'll start mixing the Basilisk blood with the Manticore spines. We'll need to finish at about the same time, because the Mandrake needs to begin to steep almost immediately. Ok so far?" She nodded once, finally feeling a bit more at ease. She bent her head to the task, not noticing that instead of beginning his work, he was watching her. She jumped when his hand covered hers, stopping its movement. She glanced up, a question on her lips, but he silenced her with the slightest shake of his head. "Like this." His hand remained upon hers, as though to guide it in the proper way to slice the Mandrake roots. It didn't move, however, and his eyes didn't drop to the worktable; rather, he continued to look at her. As though he was waiting for something, she thought feverishly. "Sir...I..." She had no idea what she was about to say, but she knew it was probably going to be something she would regret. Without warning, though, he cut her off, covering her lips with his own. Caught off guard, she stumbled backward, breaking the kiss. He looked mortified, and she realized that her reflexive action had sent him a very wrong message. She recovered quickly, and moved back toward him, moved into his arms, and kissed him back. This time there was no break, no breath, no pause in the fire that was spreading through her body, threatening to burn her alive. She was aware, faintly, that her hands were moving over him in a way that she had never even allowed herself to imagine, and that he was responding in kind. His fingers brushed through her hair, across her shoulders, down her back... She moaned softly into his mouth, realizing for the first time how much she needed him. She had loved him, wanted him, but not until this moment had she known that without him, her heart might actually stop. She wanted more of him, all of him. His bare skin, his heart, his very soul. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered. "I need you..." Her breathing grew steadily more erratic as his hands moved over her body, setting her ablaze with every touch. She was being consumed by her desire; she felt as though she was drowning in him. "Severus..." she breathed. And suddenly realized that she was holding nothing more than air. This time there had been no alarm to wake her, no interruption. Just reality pouring over her like a sudden, freezing rainstorm. She closed her eyes again, trying to hold on to the dream, but it was like trying to catch a snowflake. She opened her eyes to the sun pouring through her window, and tried to pretend that it was only the glare that was causing the tears to course down her face. No use. She gave up and rolled over, letting the pillow muffle the sound of her sobs.