Chpt6: More Than Just a Wolf in a Lion-Skin.
Neither of them moved. They simply stood, face to face, silent pillars in the centre of the room.
Hermione sniffed, feeling pathetic at having broken down in front of him, her teacher.
A hand at her cheek startled her back to reality, as it wiped away her tears.
It was Snape; standing there, looking down at her, his features showing no sign of the conflict that she saw in his eyes. // There's so much pain. // She thought, and closed her eyes, her hand meeting his at her cheek, as she leaned into his touch. His skin was soft. yet firm, she realised, before rebuking herself for thinking such a thought. She opened her eyes, looking directly at him, as she slowly directed his hand across her cheek, and over her lips, the gold ring on his middle finger tugging slightly on her bottom lip. "Can I. Can I see it?" she asked, curiosity overtaking her. Her eyes flicked down at his left hand, which she still held in her grasp.
Snape didn't answer, instead, he stared down at her for a moment, a strange expression in his gaze.
He shrugged, before using his right hand to slide the sleeve up past the elbow.
The Mark could be clearly seen, not black, as Harry had so often described it, but the same tone as his own skin, only just protruding slightly, like a badly-healed scar.
This was it, she knew, this was the very cause itself; The reason behind all those years of torment.
She could feel him watching her. // How is it possible that such a small thing could cause so much harm, // she thought, // destroying not only the victims' lives, the bearer's life as well? // A quick glance, in question, and an unspoken answer, and Hermione slowly, and hesitantly, reached out towards it.
The skin was smooth, and the faint ridges could only be felt when you focused on its shape. Hermione explored the Mark with her fingers, tracing then up his arm, and across it, outlining the shape with her fingertips, so that she was barely touching the skin. // So small.. //
The action had been administered before the idea had been registered in her mind, and an instant later, she found her lips exploring its contours. She closed her eyes, and kissed it, before softly licking it, and retracting. Snape had not moved. As before, he simply stood, unspeaking, unwavering, his jaw twitching uncharacteristically.
"I- I'm sorry. I don't have a clue what I'm doing." Hermione breathed after a while, her mind still, apparently, miles behind the rest of her, as she released his arm, and it fell back to his side innocuously.
That's when the rain began. Heavy sheets of magical rain fell from the bewitched ceiling of his quarters, and the two, dry, and alone, came crashing together with magnetic force. A tilted head, and a searching mouth, met quickly and easily, as ravaging tongues beseeched, and received entrance. Hermione gasped, gripping the sides of his robes as though she would fall from a never-ending precipice if she should let go. There was no time for coherent thought, every nerve ending was alive, burning with the glimmering moment. Hips met, and arms encircled bodies, pulling them ever closer to the undeniable end. After an eternity, they separated to draw breath, and the first few garments were discarded, beginning the trail that would eventually lead to the extensive bedroom.
Frantic minutes later, and the two were beneath the covers, mouths joined, as they seduced each other's senses. Snape pulled away, and slid his mouth down her neck, and stopping just below her clavicle.
"Heather." Hermione looked up, his fiery eyes bore straight into hers. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"No," she said, half panting, half laughing from the adrenaline rush. "But you had better carry on before I start thinking it over."
He smiled. // He's smiling!! // The thought rang out through her mind, as she sensed, not only, how privileged she must be, but also how becoming it was to his features.
All thoughts were immediately cut off, as his gentle torture moved from her navel, to below the waistline.
Skilful hands moved up her legs, and under her buttocks, before sliding up her back, as he blew on the curling hairline, and parted her legs.
Firstly, he teased, touching only her thighs with his hands, drawing circles in her bare flesh, and then kissing them away. Hermione's head lolled back, her hips arching towards him, as the shower overhead became a blustering storm. Lightning. A kiss, a flick of the tongue, that's all it took, and Hermione could not tell whether the lightning had been from the excruciatingly sweet sensation that he had bestowed upon her, or from the storm that raged above. She called out. "Severus. Oh Gods, Don't.. don't ever stop." His name slid from her lips, as easily as his tongue slid from his, and tasted her very being. Torture; that's what it was, torture in its sweetest form. She arched fiercely towards him, her body craving to be touched more intimately, her mind oblivious to everything that was happening. Then, a groan, as long fingers ventured within the pulsating walls.
Snape probed his fingers, stretching and flexing, exploring the surroundings. Were his nails too long? He wanted to laugh. At a time like this, a manicure should not be his primary concern, and he reprimanded himself, promising that if he ever did think a manicure would be genial, then he would have to kill himself. Nevertheless, he noted that from 'Heather's' reactions to his touch, that they could not, indeed, be that long. or, at least, not long enough to hurt her beyond the pleasurable boundaries of pain.
He pressed further, his hand now disappearing at the knuckles, as he delved and probed, bringing her pleasure to new heights.
He removed his hands, kissing the tiny button fully, before sliding back up her body. Hermione's hair was strewn across the pillows, his pillows, and her chest rose and fell unevenly, trying in vain to breathe successfully. Her attempts were short lived, for as soon as he came within reach, her arms impulsively stretched out to him, and dragged him up, ready for another kiss. He was there, she knew, wondering whether some sort of sign would be in order, to cross the distance that would separate the now, and the then. Taking the chance, she skimmed her hands down his body, forcefully pushing his hips into her own. Instantly, he was at her entrance, and plunging in. Hermione barely had time to gasp out in pain, before he had withdrawn, and returned with equal strength. This time, she did call out, producing a lingering moan, that came in time with each thrust. Deep cuts were carved into his shoulder blades, but he persisted, until, finally, the pain eased. The ritual continued, her legs winding around his, her hips bucking beneath him, trying with every intensity to bring them closer still, to mould their very flesh into one, until his cries of ecstasy joined with hers in a perfect melody of passion. The reaction was immediate. His became stronger, pounding into her, hitting her hard, each time. Harder, and harder, until. Release. She felt his entire body stiffen, his muscles seize up, above her, as the strongest thrust yet pierced into her, and froze. Lengthy minutes passed before either of them spoke, as they simply lay still, recovering their breaths, aware of each other's racing hearts pumping every drop of that much needed blood around their bodies. After a while, Snape lifted his head, and looked down at her. "So. first-timer, then?" He teased, trying to ignore the heavy tone that he seemed to have gained. Hermione raised her eyebrows, "My mother always told me that you have to try everything once. even the ones you don't like." She looked pointedly at him, before smiling. "I must say, my mother deserves more credit than I'd be ready to give her." A deep, rumbling chuckle vibrated into her stomach, and she wriggled. "Hey! That tickles!" With lightening reflexes, she flipped him onto his back, and straddled him. "Fair play. Heather. I guess we could call it a draw." Hermione looked down at him, his face still rosy, and the usual smirk gone, there was no denying that the odd smile could do him the world of good. She leaned in, and kissed him, and he eagerly responded, first, thoroughly kissing the living daylights out of each lip in turn, and then tasting their swollen contours with his tongue, before requesting access for a deeper kiss. ~*~*~*~ "Accio Watch." Hermione muttered, careful not to wake the sleeping form of Severus Snape at her side. It was four-thirty of the same day, and she was beginning to worry as to how much longer the ageing potion would last. Quickly gathering her clothes, she dressed, and sneaked her way back to the door that would lead her back into Hogsmeade. She refused to allow herself to think. Not about him. Not about anything. In fact, at this moment, she sincerely thought that all forms of thought were strictly beyond the capabilities of her extremely confused brain.
Neither of them moved. They simply stood, face to face, silent pillars in the centre of the room.
Hermione sniffed, feeling pathetic at having broken down in front of him, her teacher.
A hand at her cheek startled her back to reality, as it wiped away her tears.
It was Snape; standing there, looking down at her, his features showing no sign of the conflict that she saw in his eyes. // There's so much pain. // She thought, and closed her eyes, her hand meeting his at her cheek, as she leaned into his touch. His skin was soft. yet firm, she realised, before rebuking herself for thinking such a thought. She opened her eyes, looking directly at him, as she slowly directed his hand across her cheek, and over her lips, the gold ring on his middle finger tugging slightly on her bottom lip. "Can I. Can I see it?" she asked, curiosity overtaking her. Her eyes flicked down at his left hand, which she still held in her grasp.
Snape didn't answer, instead, he stared down at her for a moment, a strange expression in his gaze.
He shrugged, before using his right hand to slide the sleeve up past the elbow.
The Mark could be clearly seen, not black, as Harry had so often described it, but the same tone as his own skin, only just protruding slightly, like a badly-healed scar.
This was it, she knew, this was the very cause itself; The reason behind all those years of torment.
She could feel him watching her. // How is it possible that such a small thing could cause so much harm, // she thought, // destroying not only the victims' lives, the bearer's life as well? // A quick glance, in question, and an unspoken answer, and Hermione slowly, and hesitantly, reached out towards it.
The skin was smooth, and the faint ridges could only be felt when you focused on its shape. Hermione explored the Mark with her fingers, tracing then up his arm, and across it, outlining the shape with her fingertips, so that she was barely touching the skin. // So small.. //
The action had been administered before the idea had been registered in her mind, and an instant later, she found her lips exploring its contours. She closed her eyes, and kissed it, before softly licking it, and retracting. Snape had not moved. As before, he simply stood, unspeaking, unwavering, his jaw twitching uncharacteristically.
"I- I'm sorry. I don't have a clue what I'm doing." Hermione breathed after a while, her mind still, apparently, miles behind the rest of her, as she released his arm, and it fell back to his side innocuously.
That's when the rain began. Heavy sheets of magical rain fell from the bewitched ceiling of his quarters, and the two, dry, and alone, came crashing together with magnetic force. A tilted head, and a searching mouth, met quickly and easily, as ravaging tongues beseeched, and received entrance. Hermione gasped, gripping the sides of his robes as though she would fall from a never-ending precipice if she should let go. There was no time for coherent thought, every nerve ending was alive, burning with the glimmering moment. Hips met, and arms encircled bodies, pulling them ever closer to the undeniable end. After an eternity, they separated to draw breath, and the first few garments were discarded, beginning the trail that would eventually lead to the extensive bedroom.
Frantic minutes later, and the two were beneath the covers, mouths joined, as they seduced each other's senses. Snape pulled away, and slid his mouth down her neck, and stopping just below her clavicle.
"Heather." Hermione looked up, his fiery eyes bore straight into hers. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"No," she said, half panting, half laughing from the adrenaline rush. "But you had better carry on before I start thinking it over."
He smiled. // He's smiling!! // The thought rang out through her mind, as she sensed, not only, how privileged she must be, but also how becoming it was to his features.
All thoughts were immediately cut off, as his gentle torture moved from her navel, to below the waistline.
Skilful hands moved up her legs, and under her buttocks, before sliding up her back, as he blew on the curling hairline, and parted her legs.
Firstly, he teased, touching only her thighs with his hands, drawing circles in her bare flesh, and then kissing them away. Hermione's head lolled back, her hips arching towards him, as the shower overhead became a blustering storm. Lightning. A kiss, a flick of the tongue, that's all it took, and Hermione could not tell whether the lightning had been from the excruciatingly sweet sensation that he had bestowed upon her, or from the storm that raged above. She called out. "Severus. Oh Gods, Don't.. don't ever stop." His name slid from her lips, as easily as his tongue slid from his, and tasted her very being. Torture; that's what it was, torture in its sweetest form. She arched fiercely towards him, her body craving to be touched more intimately, her mind oblivious to everything that was happening. Then, a groan, as long fingers ventured within the pulsating walls.
Snape probed his fingers, stretching and flexing, exploring the surroundings. Were his nails too long? He wanted to laugh. At a time like this, a manicure should not be his primary concern, and he reprimanded himself, promising that if he ever did think a manicure would be genial, then he would have to kill himself. Nevertheless, he noted that from 'Heather's' reactions to his touch, that they could not, indeed, be that long. or, at least, not long enough to hurt her beyond the pleasurable boundaries of pain.
He pressed further, his hand now disappearing at the knuckles, as he delved and probed, bringing her pleasure to new heights.
He removed his hands, kissing the tiny button fully, before sliding back up her body. Hermione's hair was strewn across the pillows, his pillows, and her chest rose and fell unevenly, trying in vain to breathe successfully. Her attempts were short lived, for as soon as he came within reach, her arms impulsively stretched out to him, and dragged him up, ready for another kiss. He was there, she knew, wondering whether some sort of sign would be in order, to cross the distance that would separate the now, and the then. Taking the chance, she skimmed her hands down his body, forcefully pushing his hips into her own. Instantly, he was at her entrance, and plunging in. Hermione barely had time to gasp out in pain, before he had withdrawn, and returned with equal strength. This time, she did call out, producing a lingering moan, that came in time with each thrust. Deep cuts were carved into his shoulder blades, but he persisted, until, finally, the pain eased. The ritual continued, her legs winding around his, her hips bucking beneath him, trying with every intensity to bring them closer still, to mould their very flesh into one, until his cries of ecstasy joined with hers in a perfect melody of passion. The reaction was immediate. His became stronger, pounding into her, hitting her hard, each time. Harder, and harder, until. Release. She felt his entire body stiffen, his muscles seize up, above her, as the strongest thrust yet pierced into her, and froze. Lengthy minutes passed before either of them spoke, as they simply lay still, recovering their breaths, aware of each other's racing hearts pumping every drop of that much needed blood around their bodies. After a while, Snape lifted his head, and looked down at her. "So. first-timer, then?" He teased, trying to ignore the heavy tone that he seemed to have gained. Hermione raised her eyebrows, "My mother always told me that you have to try everything once. even the ones you don't like." She looked pointedly at him, before smiling. "I must say, my mother deserves more credit than I'd be ready to give her." A deep, rumbling chuckle vibrated into her stomach, and she wriggled. "Hey! That tickles!" With lightening reflexes, she flipped him onto his back, and straddled him. "Fair play. Heather. I guess we could call it a draw." Hermione looked down at him, his face still rosy, and the usual smirk gone, there was no denying that the odd smile could do him the world of good. She leaned in, and kissed him, and he eagerly responded, first, thoroughly kissing the living daylights out of each lip in turn, and then tasting their swollen contours with his tongue, before requesting access for a deeper kiss. ~*~*~*~ "Accio Watch." Hermione muttered, careful not to wake the sleeping form of Severus Snape at her side. It was four-thirty of the same day, and she was beginning to worry as to how much longer the ageing potion would last. Quickly gathering her clothes, she dressed, and sneaked her way back to the door that would lead her back into Hogsmeade. She refused to allow herself to think. Not about him. Not about anything. In fact, at this moment, she sincerely thought that all forms of thought were strictly beyond the capabilities of her extremely confused brain.