Of course, Hemione's formidable brain could only be distracted by thoughts
of romance for so long. Once the critical decisions had been made – gold
dress, matching shoes, and an amber necklace to draw attention to her
breasts, which could be overkill bearing in mind how much he had stared at
them before – and she was luxuriating in a hot bath – Witch Celandine's
patented Bath Salts for Romance – the boys' easy acquiescence came back to
her.
Too easy.
Either they really didn't care about her and Severus – hah! – or, more likely, they were up to something. Running through their parting words in her mind, she downgraded that from 'up to something' to 'heading off to plan being up to something'.
She'd better warn Severus, so that they could decide what to do about it. It was unlikely that they could do anything too terrible, other than stand around and watch, but it wouldn't do to get complacent. They ought to keep an eye on the pair of them. That decision made her mind was free to sink back into pink, fluffy dreams. Although, to be fair, the dreams may have involved a fair bit of pinkness, they were slightly too carnal to strictly qualify as fluffy. She couldn't imagine Severus being romantic at all, not in the hearts and flowers sense of the word anyway, although she had a strong feeling that when he let his guard down he could be as soppy as the next man, soppier, probably, as he had gallons of unused soppiness just waiting to be used up on the right woman.
And that woman had better be her, or bloody murder would be done.
Her images of their life together hadn't moved much further than the bed, occasionally the sofa, and being taken ever-so-slightly-roughly over the desk in his room. She supposed some talking, eating and sleeping would also be factored in to their relationship, but that wasn't what she was dreaming about. She knew what that aspect of their lives would be like; they had been in a relationship of sorts for nearly six months, gradually moving from teacher and student, to the relief of finding someone else who thought these parties were a waste of time, to guarded respect, until they had reached the stage of a unanticipated – and hitherto unacknowledged - friendship.
What had previously been a mystery, and one she had very carefully not thought about, perhaps because he had been her teacher, or perhaps because he had been so generous with his attentions to the world at large, thus putting him into the same category as the boys – what was Severus like in bed – was a puzzle she was now a lot closer to solving. She had been surprised to find that, after being characterised by the boys as 'a sexless dried up old prude, heading the way of McGonagall', that her fantasies had suddenly burst into life in such a florid way.
She dressed quickly, and was ready a good forty-five minutes in advance of dinner. She decided to head down to the dungeons to find Severus. Her excuse was that she wanted to talk to him about the meeting with the boys; the truth was she wanted to have her reunion with him away from prying eyes. Whatever went on between her and Severus was private, and should stay that way.
It was peculiar conducting a courtship and a mock-courtship at one and the same time; when Severus opened the door to her tentative knock she was uncertain whether she should move forward and kiss him. If she did, would he think it was part of the game with the boys, or would he think it was part of the game between them. In the end, she decided to claim her territory, and worry about whether the territory realised it had been claimed later.
She needn't have worried. Severus was too busy admiring her necklace to think about anything complicated, and so when she stepped forward into his arms, they closed around her reflexively and he was kissing her before his brain made any conscious decision.
He was aware that any chance he had of hiding his attraction to Hermione whilst he worked out what he wanted to do about that attraction had been blown in that moment; he was also aware that he didn't much care. There were no house elves about, and, unless Potter was hiding somewhere under his Invisibility Cloak, neither were the boys. This meant she had kissed him because she had wanted to kiss him; the territory did indeed realise it had been claimed, and was tentatively pleased about this, although it was reserving final judgement.
When he – finally – raised his head, he could see that her smile, whilst warm, was also faintly triumphant. Ah, she too had been contemplating tactics, and he rather thought he knew what they were; great minds did think alike after all. It wouldn't do to let her think that he hadn't seen through her ploy though.
"I was going to try the same tactic," he said softly into her ear. "Keeping you off balance so you wouldn't notice what was going on."
He could feel her smile on his cheek rather than see it, and she said, equally softly, "We could be off-balance together."
He leaned back a little, and she was treated to a rare, crooked smile from Severus. "I think I'd like that."
When she moved to kiss him again, he put a finger to her lips, and said, "No more of that, not just yet anyway. I want to hear all about your visitors this afternoon." He sat on the sofa, and patted the cushion next to him invitingly.
"Have you been taking lessons from Dumbledore?" she asked, moving to sit in the space indicated, and then moving a little closer.
"You hardly need to reach Dumbledorean peaks of omniscience. Those two are eminently predictable, not to mention the fact that the portrait guarding your door is a terrible gossip. What did they say?"
Hermione didn't think it would be sensible to tell Severus they thought he was old, ugly and nasty, so she merely said, "They seemed to take it very well, wished me all the best for the future, and said they were sure we would be happy together." It wasn't entirely a lie: merely editing.
"I see," he said. "That sounds unlikely." There was a faint note in his voice that suggested he didn't entirely believe her.
"I think they were trying to be clever," she replied. "They know me well enough by now to know that if they tried to bully me into doing something I would dig my heels in. So I think they decided to play it softly, softly, and give themselves time to think of a plan."
There was an infinitesimal relaxation in Severus's demeanour: that he did believe.
"What makes you think that?" he asked.
"Oh, the way they kept waggling their eyebrows at each other, they were trying to look sincere and merely looking shifty, and I'm sure I saw Harry mouth 'later' at Ron, all the standard signs that those two are plotting," she said airily.
He gave a little huff of laughter. "I wonder what they have in mind?"
"Who cares? We'll sort it out when it happens. In the meantime, we've got twenty minutes until dinner," she said, "and I can think of much more interesting things we could be doing than talking about Harry and Ron," and promptly did them.
Severus didn't object.
They were late for dinner, and they very nearly didn't make it at all. She had ended up in the same position as that morning, sitting in his lap, his hand again on her hip. This time he felt emboldened to move his other hand, the one that had been so left out before, from its position on the arm of the sofa to finally touch her breast: subtle at first, the lightest of caresses; then more purposeful, until he pinched a tensed nipple.
She made a little mewling sound of pleasure into his open mouth, and he was almost overwhelmed by the need to push her onto the floor and possess her. She wasn't the only one who wanted to mark their territory.
It was a frighteningly primitive feeling for someone who had always conducted his previous liaisons courteously but essentially with detachment. They found themselves forehead to forehead, gasping for breath, and struggling with a decision.
"Dinner?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Dinner."
Their arrival, late, flushed and giggling - at least on Hermione's part, Severus was determined to maintain his dignity - was noticed by the boys, and strengthened their resolve.
Something must be done!
Too easy.
Either they really didn't care about her and Severus – hah! – or, more likely, they were up to something. Running through their parting words in her mind, she downgraded that from 'up to something' to 'heading off to plan being up to something'.
She'd better warn Severus, so that they could decide what to do about it. It was unlikely that they could do anything too terrible, other than stand around and watch, but it wouldn't do to get complacent. They ought to keep an eye on the pair of them. That decision made her mind was free to sink back into pink, fluffy dreams. Although, to be fair, the dreams may have involved a fair bit of pinkness, they were slightly too carnal to strictly qualify as fluffy. She couldn't imagine Severus being romantic at all, not in the hearts and flowers sense of the word anyway, although she had a strong feeling that when he let his guard down he could be as soppy as the next man, soppier, probably, as he had gallons of unused soppiness just waiting to be used up on the right woman.
And that woman had better be her, or bloody murder would be done.
Her images of their life together hadn't moved much further than the bed, occasionally the sofa, and being taken ever-so-slightly-roughly over the desk in his room. She supposed some talking, eating and sleeping would also be factored in to their relationship, but that wasn't what she was dreaming about. She knew what that aspect of their lives would be like; they had been in a relationship of sorts for nearly six months, gradually moving from teacher and student, to the relief of finding someone else who thought these parties were a waste of time, to guarded respect, until they had reached the stage of a unanticipated – and hitherto unacknowledged - friendship.
What had previously been a mystery, and one she had very carefully not thought about, perhaps because he had been her teacher, or perhaps because he had been so generous with his attentions to the world at large, thus putting him into the same category as the boys – what was Severus like in bed – was a puzzle she was now a lot closer to solving. She had been surprised to find that, after being characterised by the boys as 'a sexless dried up old prude, heading the way of McGonagall', that her fantasies had suddenly burst into life in such a florid way.
She dressed quickly, and was ready a good forty-five minutes in advance of dinner. She decided to head down to the dungeons to find Severus. Her excuse was that she wanted to talk to him about the meeting with the boys; the truth was she wanted to have her reunion with him away from prying eyes. Whatever went on between her and Severus was private, and should stay that way.
It was peculiar conducting a courtship and a mock-courtship at one and the same time; when Severus opened the door to her tentative knock she was uncertain whether she should move forward and kiss him. If she did, would he think it was part of the game with the boys, or would he think it was part of the game between them. In the end, she decided to claim her territory, and worry about whether the territory realised it had been claimed later.
She needn't have worried. Severus was too busy admiring her necklace to think about anything complicated, and so when she stepped forward into his arms, they closed around her reflexively and he was kissing her before his brain made any conscious decision.
He was aware that any chance he had of hiding his attraction to Hermione whilst he worked out what he wanted to do about that attraction had been blown in that moment; he was also aware that he didn't much care. There were no house elves about, and, unless Potter was hiding somewhere under his Invisibility Cloak, neither were the boys. This meant she had kissed him because she had wanted to kiss him; the territory did indeed realise it had been claimed, and was tentatively pleased about this, although it was reserving final judgement.
When he – finally – raised his head, he could see that her smile, whilst warm, was also faintly triumphant. Ah, she too had been contemplating tactics, and he rather thought he knew what they were; great minds did think alike after all. It wouldn't do to let her think that he hadn't seen through her ploy though.
"I was going to try the same tactic," he said softly into her ear. "Keeping you off balance so you wouldn't notice what was going on."
He could feel her smile on his cheek rather than see it, and she said, equally softly, "We could be off-balance together."
He leaned back a little, and she was treated to a rare, crooked smile from Severus. "I think I'd like that."
When she moved to kiss him again, he put a finger to her lips, and said, "No more of that, not just yet anyway. I want to hear all about your visitors this afternoon." He sat on the sofa, and patted the cushion next to him invitingly.
"Have you been taking lessons from Dumbledore?" she asked, moving to sit in the space indicated, and then moving a little closer.
"You hardly need to reach Dumbledorean peaks of omniscience. Those two are eminently predictable, not to mention the fact that the portrait guarding your door is a terrible gossip. What did they say?"
Hermione didn't think it would be sensible to tell Severus they thought he was old, ugly and nasty, so she merely said, "They seemed to take it very well, wished me all the best for the future, and said they were sure we would be happy together." It wasn't entirely a lie: merely editing.
"I see," he said. "That sounds unlikely." There was a faint note in his voice that suggested he didn't entirely believe her.
"I think they were trying to be clever," she replied. "They know me well enough by now to know that if they tried to bully me into doing something I would dig my heels in. So I think they decided to play it softly, softly, and give themselves time to think of a plan."
There was an infinitesimal relaxation in Severus's demeanour: that he did believe.
"What makes you think that?" he asked.
"Oh, the way they kept waggling their eyebrows at each other, they were trying to look sincere and merely looking shifty, and I'm sure I saw Harry mouth 'later' at Ron, all the standard signs that those two are plotting," she said airily.
He gave a little huff of laughter. "I wonder what they have in mind?"
"Who cares? We'll sort it out when it happens. In the meantime, we've got twenty minutes until dinner," she said, "and I can think of much more interesting things we could be doing than talking about Harry and Ron," and promptly did them.
Severus didn't object.
They were late for dinner, and they very nearly didn't make it at all. She had ended up in the same position as that morning, sitting in his lap, his hand again on her hip. This time he felt emboldened to move his other hand, the one that had been so left out before, from its position on the arm of the sofa to finally touch her breast: subtle at first, the lightest of caresses; then more purposeful, until he pinched a tensed nipple.
She made a little mewling sound of pleasure into his open mouth, and he was almost overwhelmed by the need to push her onto the floor and possess her. She wasn't the only one who wanted to mark their territory.
It was a frighteningly primitive feeling for someone who had always conducted his previous liaisons courteously but essentially with detachment. They found themselves forehead to forehead, gasping for breath, and struggling with a decision.
"Dinner?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Dinner."
Their arrival, late, flushed and giggling - at least on Hermione's part, Severus was determined to maintain his dignity - was noticed by the boys, and strengthened their resolve.
Something must be done!