a/n - Another long one…hope you don't mind. This took longer than I thought, so I'm giving myself a week for the next installment. Hope you don't mind that either. Thank you all again for the reviews! They are great! Please enjoy.

Chapter 9

The cathedral was brimming with mourners. Ginny Weasley was still weeping at Harry's side while he lay in state when Hermione finally woke. As she calmed herself--fighting off the anguish that always felt so real in that panic between awake and asleep--a hand brushed her hair back from the side of her face.

"Are you all right?" Snape asked very quietly, sitting up beside her.

"Fine," she replied, the emotion receding. She sat up, propping herself against the headboard next to him. He looked worried--or angry--she couldn't tell.

"That must be one hell of a nightmare," he said, sincerity etched on his face.

"It's not that bad," she answered, cracking a feeble smile

"You were sobbing," he replied. "Was it about Weasley?"

"No," she said, unaware the sobbing translated into reality. "Harry."

"I see," he answered softly. "It is strange how our minds choose to torture us even when we sleep."

"You sound like you speak from experience," she replied.

"I have had my share of nightmares."

Asking for no details or explanations, his barefaced understanding consoled her far more than his words. She hugged him, pressing her face against his solid chest. His scent, a heavenly musk unlike anything she had ever experienced, eased the tension still lingering from the dream.

Snape's arms encircled her while he chuckled, "I didn't say that for a pity hug."

Hermione giggled, "It's not pity you idiot. I'm glad you're here."

"Don't say that," he laughed. "Weasley might come bursting through the door."

Laughter loosening the knot of anxiety even more, Hermione looked up into the face of the man holding her. Those shadowy ebony eyes were there staring back, the corners wrinkled slightly as he smiled, lulling her away from the memory of the dream.

"Could I offer you some coffee?" she asked, waiting for his patent cynicism.

"Actually," he said quietly, "I should go. There are plants I have been neglecting and some of them require tending at dawn."

"Dawn?" she asked, unaware of the early hour.

"You know, when the sun rises," he replied evenly.

"Yes, I've heard of that," she laughed. "It's still that early?"

"Yes," he answered with a soft chuckle.

"Then let me dress and I'll come…" she replied, hesitating as Snape's grin widened. "…accompany you."

"Then hurry up," he said quickly.

"Don't rush me," she teased as she climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom door. When she didn't receive a reply, she looked back to see his voyeuristic stare, a half-smile on his lips.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, as coy as she could muster.

"The aspect where your tiny legs converge with the rest of your body," he replied, all silk and seduction.

Rendered speechless as the blood escaped her brain and went everywhere else, she watched him close his eyes and release a heavy sigh.

"Just go," he instructed, his half-smile becoming a smirk.

Savoring her influence on him too much to resist, she asked, "But why?"

He grinned as he repeated, "Just go."

When he opened his eyes, she saw the same wanton glow that she nearly buckled under the previous morning. Coupled with the view of his exposed torso, her next breath came out as a whimper.

Giggling, she tried to retreat casually behind the door. That racy look was new to her and she wasn't used to it, or perhaps the man wearing the look simply did it justice. Whatever it was, it was unnaturally divine.

Now savoring his affect on her, she hurried into the shower. When she finished, realizing that she hadn't brought any clothes or her bathrobe, she wrapped a towel around. She finished getting ready in a rush, not wanting to keep him waiting. Since she hadn't heard the door, she was sure Snape was still in the bedroom. A longing to taunt him outweighing her modesty, she opened the door. Snape was still there, sitting on the bed while he buttoned his shirt.

"That was fast", he said as he looked up. The grin that spread across his face was sinful as he added, "And you're wicked."

"This was unintentional," she uttered, trying to retain her composure as she blushed. "You need to leave while I get dressed."

Crossing his arms on his chest, he chuckled softly, "Do I have to?"

The lower his voice became, the more it felt as though it were tangible and touching her with each syllable. The warmer her face became, the more difficult it was to reason why not.

Again, her modesty took a back seat as she smiled, "Fine, but you have to close your eyes and keep your hands to yourself."

"That I can do," he said, closing his eyes but retaining the devilish smirk.

Crossing the room to the closet, which was precariously close to the bed, she felt her heart racing ever faster. Turning her back to Snape, who was still sitting with his eyes obediently shut, she let the towel drop to the floor. Feverish warmth in her cheeks, awestruck by what she was doing, she took a step away from the towel before an incandescent heat spiraled from the small of her back. Losing her breath, she placed both hands against the wall seeking support as she looked behind her.

Snape was kneeling on the floor, his hands behind his back, his lips rambling along the very base of her spine. The heavenly sensation freezing her in place, she could do nothing but keep her legs from failing as every receptor in her body screamed with delight. With each meeting of his lips as they made their ascent, her mind steeped in mayhem, she could only shut her eyes and trust that he wasn't prepared to stop.

As he reached her shoulder, she became aware of the terrycloth against her front as his cheek nuzzled her shoulder blade. Opening her eyes, she found that he had wrapped the towel around her, in a sense preserving her modesty. By that time however, she preferred to remain naked. His lips unceasing on her shoulder, she didn't know that he still held the ends of the towel behind her until he used it as a sling, tugging her from the support of the wall, landing her flush against him. His appreciation was especially apparent against her back.

Continuing the attention up her neck, his tongue traced a languid line to her ear and she freed the moan that had been building in her throat, as she could do nothing about the heat building elsewhere that was begging for attention. As soon as she made the sound, he abruptly stopped.

"Wait for me," he breathed in her ear.

"Wha…" she managed to utter, the words refusing to form.

Again, he murmured slowly, "Shut your eyes, stand very still, and wait for me."

Words still forsaking her, she nodded as she complied, clutching the towel in front of her just before he released it. Unsure why she was submitting so readily, yet quite confident she liked it, she felt the chill air against her back before hearing his stealthy steps withdraw. She only wondered for a moment what he was playing at when she heard the hiss of the shower. One minute passed, the anticipation as blinding as the darkness.

Suddenly, the pipes made a hollow rattle as the shower turned off and she listened for further sounds. None came as another minute passed. Then she sensed the towel stir and almost turned around in fright until it tightened around her and began drawing her back. She took one small step, then two, her own breathing almost too loud to endure, her senses heightened from standing still and sightless. Although, she wasn't opening her eyes until her told her to. The next step brought her into contact with something large and solid, the heat radiating from it almost scorching against her chilled skin. She remembered that brick wall. Except this time, it was just as naked as she was, and equally aroused.

Permitting him to lead, she relaxed into the decent as he sat on the bed and situated her astride his legs. Eyes still tightly shut, she felt his breath on her neck yet again.

"Do I have permission to use my hands?" he whispered.

"Uh-huh," she whispered back.

Setting off from each ankle, his hands slid gradually up her calf and along the back of her thighs, whereas his lips recommenced their tormenting on her neck. The hands continued their climb, grazing across her hips and sides until they stopped below her arms. Realizing that she was still clutching the towel, she let it go and felt instantly uncertain about what to do with her hands. He assisted by taking her elbows and pushing her arms into the air, causing her to instinctively rock back against him, laying her hands on his neck as the concentrated heat from his chest ensconced her back.

His hands found her stomach, her eyes still closed while she focused on the callused palms roving gradually upward, consuming her with the suspense of their next stop. She wasn't disappointed as his thumbs traced unhurried lines along the underside of each breast until he took both fully, energizing the insistent and swelling need now uncomfortably damp against his legs. Unable to take anymore, she tried to stir so that she could see him, touch him, but a powerful arm surrounded her waist, tugging her closer.

"Patience," he whispered before taking her earlobe gently with his teeth.

Forgetting why she had tried to budge to begin with, she yielded, relinquishing what remained of conscious thought to the roving fingers on her inner thigh. Edging closer and closer frustratingly slow, they sojourned with the curls briefly before leaving altogether. Even to her surprise, an impudent protest escaped her lips in the form of a moan.

"Please…" she muttered.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered back.

"Touch me…" she answered in a throaty sigh.

"Tell me where."

"Uh…" she breathed, not used to speaking, let alone giving direction during…well. "May I open my eyes?"

"No," he breathed, his smile evident in his tone. "You'll have to show me."

Insecure though determined, she took the hand on her stomach and directed it down until it rested against the throbbing heat at last. As they reached the goal together, his groan was much more satisfying than hers was, his other hand joining in while a finger slipped inside. While he worked an immaculate magic, she soared further into the ungodly sensations, each sending her higher than the next. As they all intertwined, every muscle beginning to tense, she struggled to draw away again.

"You," she murmured as he held her back. "I want you."

Quickly, he released her and she stumbled gracelessly to her feet in her enthusiasm, remembering that she hadn't yet asked permission to look and not sure why that was suddenly so important to her.

As she turned back to him, she asked softly, "May I open my eyes?"

"Not yet."

Enamored in some way by the denial, she took a tentative step forward and smiled as he took her hand to guide the rest of the way. With another step, she crawled onto the bed, unsure where he was as she lay down impatiently awaiting his arrival.

He arrived, except it was his mouth on her knee, making its way up her thigh and momentarily nuzzling the curls before resuming the rise. Wanting desperately to see him, to kiss him, to feel him, she reached out only to feel him vanish.

"Tell me," he whispered.

She could suddenly sense that he was right alongside her, his voice so near, the heat from his skin bridging the distance. Turning her head toward his voice, she muttered something that she had never before said aloud.

"Make love to me."

"Open your eyes," he breathed.

And she did so enthusiastically, striving to view him all at once while he situated himself, kneeling between her legs. The muscular thigh, the gentle curve of his hip, the generous swell of his…well…having only seen one other, she thought it must be generous. His slender waist accentuated his chest and shoulders, adding breadth to their sinew and obvious strength.

When she finally tore her eyes away, she found his, still occupied with their study of her as well. Her insecurities surging back, she hoped that she wasn't too ordinary for him, a man who seemed to exude sexuality, his standards undoubtedly cultivated by experience. His next words were as comforting as they were sensuous.

"You are too lovely," he purred as he descended upon her, raking his chest against her as he slithered up her body.

His scent shrouded her as he arrived, his face hovering just above hers, his eyes wild and his hair still mussed and damp from the shower. Enthralled, his skin like brushed suede against her quivering body, she shut her eyes and welcomed him, finding his lips and begging him with her tongue to proceed. Poised just outside the entrance, she felt him teasing her. Sending her hands down his back, she nudged him on, but he only ended the kiss and moved to her bosom, fueling the passion that was already unbearably strong. When he intensified his efforts, she ran her hands into his hair. All the while, he was still playing with her, tempting that place she so desperately wanted him to go.

"Tell me," she heard him gasp.

Suddenly, she realized what he was waiting for. She clutched what hair she could and tugged him from her breast.

"Make love to me now," she demanded, her voice breathy but strong.

His eyes feral, he heaved a sigh that sounded similar to a growl as he pounced, taking her lips at once with his. With one fluid motion, he faithfully complied. She groaned into his mouth, her back arching into the mind-bending coalescence, a hedonistic splendor coursing through her. With uncommon care, he drove without urgency, giving her a pleasure like none she had known before. Carnal impulse taking over, she wrapped her legs around his hips and etched her nails lightly up his back, generating a hoarse moan into her own mouth. This time starting at his hips, she repeated the gesture, except this time scratching more forcibly up the sides of his stomach. When she reached his chest, he slipped a hand under her waist and pulled her up roughly to meet him, drawing away from the kiss, and peering directly into her eyes.

His gaze enrapturing, she swung her hips to meet his in tempo, gradually stepping up the cadence until those onyx eyes shut forcefully. He met her pace and put his free hand to her breast, pinching painfully, though the pain underscored her climax.

As the moan began, she couldn't believe that it was coming from her. Strident and brash, the moan was growing louder, so she muffled it the only way she could. She bit hard at his chest as wave after wave of visceral bliss infused her. Just as the seismic spell began to wane, he plunged one final time, his head snapping back, prompting her to free his skin and look up just in time to witness the surge of ecstasy on his face before he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck.

She put her arms around him, appreciating the rise and fall of his back as he caught his breath, smiling at the perspiration under her fingers and his nose nuzzling the back of her ear. Unable to remember the last time that she took a breath, she inhaled deeply, the mingling of sweat and his distinctive fragrance adding to her satisfaction.

Lazily, he withdrew, kissing her lightly on the temple before climbing off the foot of the bed. She could only watch, words eluding her again. He threw the blankets over her as he rounded the bed and knelt at the side.

"Though I would love to lie nude with you all day, we do have business to attend to and another shower seems to be necessary," he said slowly, his voice deepened by something intangible. "You are more than welcome to join me."

She only nodded, wishing that she could do something about the stupid grin on her face. He kissed her gently before rising and walking toward the bathroom. She noticed that his self-assured stride was no different nude from clothed. Admiring the back half of the man, she was sure that she could never look at him the same in clothes again, not when he looked like that, a fair-skinned Adonis with raven black hair. He wasn't young, though he certainly wasn't old, and perhaps the session of brilliant sex was clouding her judgment, but she was sure that there were people who would pay good money to…

What on earth was she doing lying there thinking, she chided herself as she rolled out of bed, when she could be in the shower with him.

>

Placinga towel across the edge of the tub, Snape sat and turned the hot water on full, pausing to wallow in the heady perfume of their union. Sighing deeply, he knew that he had been a bit forward, but the thought of her reconciling with Weasley had become more troublesome during the night. Instead of dreaming of terrible things that he had done, Snape saw visions of Hermione telling him that she would rather return to the safe and tediously dim Weasley.

When Snape woke, the sun barely peeking over the horizon and the skyline still hued with pink, he watched her twitch in her sleep, thinking that it would be best to put a stop to their charade before she had the pleasure of doing it first. However, just as that thought formed, another more persistent notion took hold. This notion stated that he would never have happiness if he continued to evade it. Dumbledore voiced this notion, and the memory thankfully chose that moment to surface in Snape's mind. The words had made little sense in Dumbledore's office mere months before Snape grudgingly satisfied the Vow, but now they meant considerably more.

He settled it then, shortly before he woke her from the dream, that instead of distancing himself, he would try his best to keep her. That might have sounded chauvinistic if he'd said it aloud, and he knew full well that she wasn't a possession, but he wasn't a man to use such words as girlfriend or lover to describe those that he cared for. Thus, he chose to keep her. To facilitate this, he would need to show her that he possessed things that the boy could scarcely offer, and the first that came to mind was experience. He had only been teasing, but when she agreed to allow him to stay in the room and then expressed her conditions, he recognized straight away that she had failed to mention lips. He grinned at the recent memory as a timid voice reached him from the doorway.

"You haven't started without me, have you?"

Turning toward the door, he found Hermione peeking around the edge, shielding her body with the wall.

"And what reason could you possibly have to be shy?" he asked.

"Well," she said, as she slowly emerged from her cover, "I'm not used to walking around with nothing on."

"If you ever end up naked in the middle of a bustling street," he recited with a grin, "hold your head high and walk with confidence through the crowd because I guarantee that the people will remember less about the nakedness than they will about the audacity."

"Where did you hear that?" she asked with a smile as she crossed the small room, tying back her hair.

The sweetness of her body was not lost on him as he stood to meet her, steam beginning to cloud the room.

"Dumbledore," he answered, holding out a hand. "If you join me, I'll tell you the story."

She took his hand, stepping into the shower, and he followed, standing behind her as the water deluged them both. Taking a washcloth, he filled it with soap before gliding it across her shoulders.

"It was my first year at Hogwarts," he began, marveling at the vision of her as he spoke. "Some of the older boys decided that it would be quite the farce to toss me into the hallway and seal the door, but not before stripping me of all my clothes." He paused to chuckle.

"That isn't funny at all," she replied, turning toward him to rinse the soap from her back.

"Oh, it is now," he said, still chuckling. "I was terrified at the time. Too embarrassed to seek help, and helpless without my wand, I sought refuge behind a suit of armor. I cowered there for some time before Dumbledore happened upon me."

He paused while they traded sides and he studied the myriad of soaps she had in the tray. He had merely rinsed before seeing as he was planning to get dirty, in more than one sense of the word.

"Hand me that one," she said, reaching around to point at a greenish-blue bar. "That one smells least girlie."

He smiled as he did so, attempting to remain centered as she lathered his back.

"Well go on," she prompted.

"Well, Albus put a hand to his eyes and held out his cloak for me to cover myself. He told me that little maxim while he walked me back to my common room and it always stuck with me."

Just then, he turned to rinse when she said, "So that's why you're so cocky."

He laughed, "I'm cocky because I look pretty damn good…for a forty year old man anyway."

She grinned, "You won't get an argument from me. Of course, I would have said any man."

He only grinned back as she stepped gracefully out of the tub. She swung a towel around herself before striding smugly into the bedroom. Snape smirked after her, thinking that perhaps he was a good influence on her after all. Shutting off the water, he dried himself and cast aside the towel. Retrieving his clothes, he joined her in the bedroom. She was already half dressed when he entered, but watched contentedly as she finished while he cast a few cleansing charms on his clothes. He dressed lazily, not wanting their carefree morning to end. Just as he slipped on his shirt, Hermione gasped.

"Oh my," she was pointing to his chest.

Glancing down, he saw the bruise beginning to blossom where she had nipped him.

"Ah yes," he said as he began to button his shirt. "I never fancied you a biter."

"I'll get my wand and fix that," she said, placing a hand to his chest.

"You most certainly will not," he replied, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. "I'm keeping that, much like the hand full of hair you must have taken as a souvenir."

Smirking, she slid her hand across the top of his head as she said, "It all seems to be there."

"Just barely," he replied, kissing her deeply.

When they parted, he went straight to the door and unsealed it. They would have to get down to business so they wouldn't have to spend all day at the hospital. He took one full step into the living room before two very blue, very angry eyes met his. Snape retreated calmly into the bedroom, shutting the door rather roughly behind him.

"Damn," he said before the unexpected laughter began.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, meeting him at the door.

Tickled by the situation, he had trouble containing his laughter long enough to answer, "Were you expecting Mr. Weasley?"

Her face fell as she said, "You're joking."

"I'm afraid not," he replied with a laugh. He still couldn't seem to stop. "He's standing in the middle of the living room."

"This isn't funny," she said firmly, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"I know," Snape conceded, "and I can't help but wonder how long he's been there."

"Oh god," she said with a faint giggle. "Oh god," she repeated, her eyes wide and her expression fading into fear and embarrassment. "I was…"

"Screaming?" he finished, inhibiting another chuckle. "I had a similar thought. That seems to be why I'm unable to stop laughing."

"Well stop," she admonished. "We need to go out there. He can hear us."

He took a deep breath, "I'm trying."

"You're still smiling," she said, her eyebrows high.

"We're going to have to deal that that," he replied, snorting before restoring the weak hold on his composure. "After you."

Opening the door, Hermione strode out in front of him. The boy looked much angrier than he had the first time, which did nothing to help Snape with his amusement, still bubbling just below the surface.

"What kind of idiot do you think I am?" Weasley shot in agitation as they entered.

Ignoring every snide remark floating through his mind, Snape waited for Hermione to answer.

She was staring fixedly at the boy. "The kind that can't take a bloody hint." Her voice was impatient. "Do you just go wandering into people's houses uninvited whenever you feel like it now?"

"I wanted to talk about us," the boy responded. "I knocked and you didn't answer…so I let myself in. I assume you were busy." He leered at Snape quickly before returning his furious gaze to Hermione.

"You can't just let yourself in anymore," she warned. "We aren't together anymore, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Ron's face was as scarlet as his sweater. "You spring it on me out of nowhere, after whoring around with him and likely half of London."

The amusement Snape had been feeling gave out quickly at the boy's words and the wounded look on Hermione's face.

"Listen to me boy," Snape stated in a forbidding voice. "You will choose your words more carefully."

Ron glared at him, "No one asked you."

"I don't care," Snape replied coldly. "Just understand what will happen if you don't." He paused to sneer at Ron before continuing, "Hermione was trying to spare your feelings by lying. Nothing happened between us until after she very wisely ended your affair. She will have to provide the details for the why, but suffice to say she hoped you would understand. Obviously, you are incapable."

"You lied to me again?" Ron asked Hermione hurriedly.

"Yes," Hermione answered in exasperation. "For the last year I've wanted to…stop seeing each other, but how do you do that when you're friends? It's so much more complicated, and with Harry, it never seemed like the right time."

"The last year?" Ron repeated incredulously. "Why didn't you say anything when I asked you to move in with me? You told me that you had the rent paid up on…this place…" His voice slowly faded and his expression became one of comprehension as he added, "I'm a blooming idiot. I should have seen it then."

Snape bit back his own comment when Hermione replied, "I was enigmatic about it. It's not your fault, it's not anyone's fault. How do you break up with a friend? What do you say? Hey, let's stop having sex, shall we?"

Hermione and Ron both laughed awkwardly while Snape shook away the mental picture of the two of them having sex. If Weasley was as clumsy in bed as he was with potions, it was amazing he ever managed to consummate the relationship. After one last wince at the thought, he refocused on the two people now hugging in front of him.

"I just hope you don't hate me," Hermione said as she pulled away from the hug.

"I could never hate you," Ron said quietly. "Though I am glad I know the truth now. I'm especially relieved to know there isn't anything going on between you and…" He laughed as he finished, nodding his head toward Snape.

The boy certainly wasn't quick, Snape thought as he asked, "You haven't been here long, have you?"

"Only a few minutes before you came out of the bedroom," Ron answered more congenially than before.

Snape nodded, delaying comment to see how Hermione would respond. She was walking to the coffee table. After picking up the small box, she returned to Ron.

"Here, this is yours," she said as she put it in his hand. "Now go out and have fun tonight. It's Saturday, and you have a lot to celebrate. Harry will be doing much better after we start the regeneration. I'm sure he told you last night."

"Harry was asleep when I got there," Ron replied as he slipped the box in his pocket. "So I ended up at the pub. I'm headed to the hospital now." He looked quickly between Snape and Hermione. "I'm sure there's work you need to be getting to so I'll just go."

"Bye," Hermione said as Ron stepped toward the door.

Snape was shaking his head at Ron, delaying remarks until his departure.

"Wait a second," Ron said with his hand already on the handle, turning back to Snape. "What were you doing in her bedroom?"

Snape smirked at the losing battle with the boy's perceptions, "Because that is where she keeps her books."

"Oh," Ron gave a thin chuckle, "right."

At last, the boy disappeared behind the door and Snape peered down at Hermione who had reached his side.

"He doesn't listen properly, does he?" Snape asked.

She giggled, "Why didn't you correct him?"

"Even when it was untrue, the knowledge seemed to blow his fragile mind," he replied. "Perhaps we should give him a bit of time to recover before we drive him utterly insane."

Hermione laughed as she collected her cloak. "Are you ready yet? Your plants are in need of tending, remember?"

"Wait," he said, bending down to peer directly into her eyes.

"What?" she asked curiously.

He only smiled, swiftly moving in for the kiss. Sustaining his hold on her until he felt her sigh on his cheek, he pulled away saying, "Now I'm ready."

As they walked down the nearly deserted street on that chilly morning, her arm around his waist and his in the middle of her back, he wondered for just a moment if she was huddling so close to his side to protect against the sting of the autumn wind. However, after such a splendid morning, Snape preferred to trust that she wanted to be near him.

He also hoped she wasn't going to yell at him again when she saw the plants. Although, she was markedly sexy when she yelled, creating a conundrum. She hadn't recognized them in his apartment, so she probably wouldn't recognize them now. Then again, he could tell her what they were, get the argument out of the way, and see some of that boundless confidence that he had finally coaxed out of her in the bedroom. As they ascended the steps of the hostel, he grinned. He knew she had it in her.