Hermione woke at her usual time, which was disgustingly early for a
holiday. She had slept surprisingly well: the bed was comfortable and
Severus didn't snore. The bed was comfortable, but it was old and the
mattress dipped in the middle; at some point during the night, both of them
had rolled towards the centre. They were now crowded together in an untidy
heap of limbs. His breath was warm against the back of her neck, and his
arm was draped round her waist.
It was quite . cosy, really, not unpleasant at all, apart from the fact that there seemed to be another book digging in to her back. She reached between them to remove the offending object and found . THAT wasn't a book.
Good God.
She'd touched his . and it was . and . good God.
Somewhere, beneath the fog of sleep, Severus was aware that someone had just touched him. He snuggled closer to Hermione's tense body, and said sleepily, "Not now darling, maybe later." His hand moved from her waist to settle on her breast, which he gave a gentle squeeze, before nuzzling briefly at her neck.
Hermione was strongly tempted to make a break for freedom, but Severus's grip on her was so tight she didn't think she would be able to free herself without disturbing him; a sleeping Severus with an erection and a hand on her breast was preferable to a waking Severus with an erection and a hand on her breast.
Probably. Possibly. Maybe.
She couldn't deny that in his own particular way he was a very attractive man. He was capable of being charming when he wanted to, he had a marvellously sardonic sense of humour, and he definitely had a way with his hands. She just didn't think a liaison with him would be a good idea, and she certainly didn't think explaining this to him at 7 am would be a good idea at all, bearing in mind the location of his hand. There was a distinct possibility that she might not be able to get a word in before he began further exploration, and that could make any resistance short-lived.
He was undeniably good with his hands.
She was perfectly poised between resistance and encouragement, but her tension eased when it became clear that Severus wasn't going to venture further, and gradually she drifted back to sleep.
When Hermione woke again it was late and she was alone, for which she was grateful. She didn't think she was up to dealing with Severus with her hair looking like a bird's nest or, indeed, until she had consumed a cup of tea. She suspected that he too would be unbearable first thing in the morning, and she would not have been enthusiastic about running the gauntlet of his formidable temper until he had had his morning tea, although they could always pass off the ensuing squabble as a lover's tiff.
She padded into the bathroom for a wee, taking her 'company' nightdress with her. She quickly brushed out the worst of her hair - now she could pretend she looked tousled rather than as if she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. She hastily scrambled out of her pyjamas and slipped on the nightie. She hoped Severus would like it.
For the sake of the house elves, of course, nothing else.
It was chilly though, and her nipples looked like they could be used for drilling for oil, they were so hard; her goosebumps had goosebumps. She was damned if she was going to catch a cold, just so Severus could maintain his reputation with the house elves.
She looked at her pyjamas longingly. They were warm, they were cosy, and they were completely out of the question. A warming charm it was, then.
She sighed. Time to face the music.
Severus was sat on the sofa clutching a scalding cup of tea, and staring into the fire. Hot, sweet tea was recommended for shock, and he had certainly been shocked to find himself practically shagging Hermione in her sleep this morning. He was just grateful she hadn't woken up; he hadn't fancied explaining he'd mistaken her for someone else through the bathroom door, where she would undoubtedly have bolted once she realised what was going on.
Getting his face slapped was the very least he could have expected. He made a mental note to put her wand out of reach tonight, just in case there was a repeat performance tomorrow morning.
Not that he was entirely sure he had mistaken her for someone else. After all, it was a gentleman's first duty to remember the name of the lady he had slept with the night before.
They were, as he had suspected, very nice breasts indeed.
Particularly when barely covered by a red silk nightdress, and she was very clearly feeling a bit cold and more than a bit uncertain. He felt a sudden surge of something, something other than the obvious, which in another, kinder man might have been called protectiveness. She looked so unguarded, so open to suggestion, and just waiting to be taken advantage of .
He was more than willing, but the question was, was she?
"Now you're up, I'll get the house elves to fetch breakfast," he said. "Is there anything you want?"
"Not really, a bit of toast and some tea, that'll be fine."
Dobby appeared in response to some unseen signal, and Severus gave his instructions, commenting to her that he was very hungry. She tried not to giggle at the implication. Once the house elf left, he patted the sofa next to him. "They'll be back soon; I think we should be looking cosy. The way the house elves gossip, it will be all round the castle by lunchtime."
She took her seat next to him, carefully arranging her skirts around her, paying particular attention to make sure her feet were covered. Ostrich trimmed mules were all very well, but they were bloody parky. She had never understood why freezing to death was considered to be sexy; surely there had to be some halfway house between scantily-clad icicle and flannelette frump.
Sod it, she thought, and kicked off the slippers, she wasn't going to lose her toes to frostbite just to score a couple of points with the boys. She tucked her feet beneath her, and found herself leaning towards Severus. He wanted cosy? Cosy is what he would get.
Severus decided to up the ante and, very much in the manner of young muggle boys in the cinema, tentatively put his arm round her. He was warm, and that and that alone was the reason for her relaxing into his embrace. No, not the only reason; they had to put on a good show for the house elves.
So she didn't resist at all when he moved to kiss her: nothing too aggressive, subtle and teasing. She moved closer to him, until she was half- sprawled across his lap, burrowing her hands into his hair. He flinched; her hands were cold. Serve him right.
His hand was resting on her hip, shifting restlessly over the silk of her nightdress, whilst the other was twitching on the arm of the sofa. He knew where that hand wanted to be, where that hand had been earlier, but he didn't think that Hermione would let him get away with that.
She didn't object when his tongue moved into her mouth; she welcomed it, and urged him on to greater endeavours. They only broke apart when Dobby apparated into his quarters with breakfast. They managed to convey the embarrassment of a couple caught in flagrante very convincingly. She almost felt sorry for the house elf; he was so apologetic for interrupting them.
Hermione moved further away from Severus and quietly buttered her toast. She concentrated solely on the consumption of tea, toast, and jam for several minutes. Once she had finished, she headed off to the bathroom to get changed. At the door to the bedroom she stopped, and asked over her shoulder, "Severus, were tongues strictly necessary?"
"I thought," he replied, smiling meaningfully, "it would add verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative."
She just laughed. "Indeed."
It was quite . cosy, really, not unpleasant at all, apart from the fact that there seemed to be another book digging in to her back. She reached between them to remove the offending object and found . THAT wasn't a book.
Good God.
She'd touched his . and it was . and . good God.
Somewhere, beneath the fog of sleep, Severus was aware that someone had just touched him. He snuggled closer to Hermione's tense body, and said sleepily, "Not now darling, maybe later." His hand moved from her waist to settle on her breast, which he gave a gentle squeeze, before nuzzling briefly at her neck.
Hermione was strongly tempted to make a break for freedom, but Severus's grip on her was so tight she didn't think she would be able to free herself without disturbing him; a sleeping Severus with an erection and a hand on her breast was preferable to a waking Severus with an erection and a hand on her breast.
Probably. Possibly. Maybe.
She couldn't deny that in his own particular way he was a very attractive man. He was capable of being charming when he wanted to, he had a marvellously sardonic sense of humour, and he definitely had a way with his hands. She just didn't think a liaison with him would be a good idea, and she certainly didn't think explaining this to him at 7 am would be a good idea at all, bearing in mind the location of his hand. There was a distinct possibility that she might not be able to get a word in before he began further exploration, and that could make any resistance short-lived.
He was undeniably good with his hands.
She was perfectly poised between resistance and encouragement, but her tension eased when it became clear that Severus wasn't going to venture further, and gradually she drifted back to sleep.
When Hermione woke again it was late and she was alone, for which she was grateful. She didn't think she was up to dealing with Severus with her hair looking like a bird's nest or, indeed, until she had consumed a cup of tea. She suspected that he too would be unbearable first thing in the morning, and she would not have been enthusiastic about running the gauntlet of his formidable temper until he had had his morning tea, although they could always pass off the ensuing squabble as a lover's tiff.
She padded into the bathroom for a wee, taking her 'company' nightdress with her. She quickly brushed out the worst of her hair - now she could pretend she looked tousled rather than as if she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. She hastily scrambled out of her pyjamas and slipped on the nightie. She hoped Severus would like it.
For the sake of the house elves, of course, nothing else.
It was chilly though, and her nipples looked like they could be used for drilling for oil, they were so hard; her goosebumps had goosebumps. She was damned if she was going to catch a cold, just so Severus could maintain his reputation with the house elves.
She looked at her pyjamas longingly. They were warm, they were cosy, and they were completely out of the question. A warming charm it was, then.
She sighed. Time to face the music.
Severus was sat on the sofa clutching a scalding cup of tea, and staring into the fire. Hot, sweet tea was recommended for shock, and he had certainly been shocked to find himself practically shagging Hermione in her sleep this morning. He was just grateful she hadn't woken up; he hadn't fancied explaining he'd mistaken her for someone else through the bathroom door, where she would undoubtedly have bolted once she realised what was going on.
Getting his face slapped was the very least he could have expected. He made a mental note to put her wand out of reach tonight, just in case there was a repeat performance tomorrow morning.
Not that he was entirely sure he had mistaken her for someone else. After all, it was a gentleman's first duty to remember the name of the lady he had slept with the night before.
They were, as he had suspected, very nice breasts indeed.
Particularly when barely covered by a red silk nightdress, and she was very clearly feeling a bit cold and more than a bit uncertain. He felt a sudden surge of something, something other than the obvious, which in another, kinder man might have been called protectiveness. She looked so unguarded, so open to suggestion, and just waiting to be taken advantage of .
He was more than willing, but the question was, was she?
"Now you're up, I'll get the house elves to fetch breakfast," he said. "Is there anything you want?"
"Not really, a bit of toast and some tea, that'll be fine."
Dobby appeared in response to some unseen signal, and Severus gave his instructions, commenting to her that he was very hungry. She tried not to giggle at the implication. Once the house elf left, he patted the sofa next to him. "They'll be back soon; I think we should be looking cosy. The way the house elves gossip, it will be all round the castle by lunchtime."
She took her seat next to him, carefully arranging her skirts around her, paying particular attention to make sure her feet were covered. Ostrich trimmed mules were all very well, but they were bloody parky. She had never understood why freezing to death was considered to be sexy; surely there had to be some halfway house between scantily-clad icicle and flannelette frump.
Sod it, she thought, and kicked off the slippers, she wasn't going to lose her toes to frostbite just to score a couple of points with the boys. She tucked her feet beneath her, and found herself leaning towards Severus. He wanted cosy? Cosy is what he would get.
Severus decided to up the ante and, very much in the manner of young muggle boys in the cinema, tentatively put his arm round her. He was warm, and that and that alone was the reason for her relaxing into his embrace. No, not the only reason; they had to put on a good show for the house elves.
So she didn't resist at all when he moved to kiss her: nothing too aggressive, subtle and teasing. She moved closer to him, until she was half- sprawled across his lap, burrowing her hands into his hair. He flinched; her hands were cold. Serve him right.
His hand was resting on her hip, shifting restlessly over the silk of her nightdress, whilst the other was twitching on the arm of the sofa. He knew where that hand wanted to be, where that hand had been earlier, but he didn't think that Hermione would let him get away with that.
She didn't object when his tongue moved into her mouth; she welcomed it, and urged him on to greater endeavours. They only broke apart when Dobby apparated into his quarters with breakfast. They managed to convey the embarrassment of a couple caught in flagrante very convincingly. She almost felt sorry for the house elf; he was so apologetic for interrupting them.
Hermione moved further away from Severus and quietly buttered her toast. She concentrated solely on the consumption of tea, toast, and jam for several minutes. Once she had finished, she headed off to the bathroom to get changed. At the door to the bedroom she stopped, and asked over her shoulder, "Severus, were tongues strictly necessary?"
"I thought," he replied, smiling meaningfully, "it would add verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative."
She just laughed. "Indeed."