Warning

This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.

Chapter 22 - In the Warmth of the Fire

Hermione half smiled to herself as she cradled Severus in her arms. She still stood next to his chair, her chin resting on the top of the head that was bent to lean against her. It should have seemed strange to her, she thought, that she was in the role of comforter and protector, but, somehow, it seemed natural. For all his strength and his turbulent past, there was vulnerability about him when he was forced to confront his emotions, instead of hiding them behind a stone façade.

She ran her fingers through his long hair, stroking his head, but stopped as she felt the dried blood matting in his hair. Pushing him gently away from her, she moved to examine the damage more closely.

"This is a deep cut, Severus," she told him softly. "It should be looked after." He said nothing, and she moved round to look at his face. There was still a little blood where it had run from his nose, and the area under his left eye was darkening. "We should get you to Madam Pomfrey - or ask her to come here." She added the latter suggestion, realizing that Harry and Ron may still be in the hospital wing.

Snape was not impressed by this idea, and his impatience showed in his voice. "Poppy Pomfrey is discreet, Hermione, not stupid." He was right, of course, although she was surprised at how long it seemed since she had heard that tone from him. He continued, "I'll just have to deal with this myself."

But healing his own injuries was not easy. In the end, Hermione carried out the appropriate spells, guided by the patient, finding out about yet another facet of the man's knowledge. The result would not be perfect - Hermione had little practical experience with this, usually relying on the school's matron - but it was enough to prevent permanent damage to his nose, and to remove most of the bruising and pain.

As he felt the back of his head to be sure the cut was sealed, she brought up the subject of Dumbledore, asking about the conversation before she had arrived. He grimaced as he told her of the headmaster's anger, and his bland statement that if it had been anyone other than Hermione, he would have been fired, regardless of Dumbledore's friendship towards him. That friendship had clearly reached its limit and come close to breaking.

"He was serious, you know," he frowned gravely, "about not letting other people find out. Whatever else he cares about in this world, Hogwarts and its students come first. As it should be."

Hermione stretched her arms about him, concerned at the anxiety and strain shown in his every movement and word. "Then we'll just have to be careful," she said. "A lot more careful than we've been so far!"

Speaking of being careful, there was another matter that Hermione had to bring up. But not here in the classroom. She wanted to get out of there, and leave the shattered remains of the room to be dealt with in the morning. It wasn't doing his mood any good to be here. Locking the door to prevent anyone else from discovering the destruction, they headed for his chambers.

Resting her head against his chest as they sat by the fire, Hermione could feel that he was still tense and restless, but this was not something that should wait any longer. She nervously broached the subject. "Severus, there's something that Harry mentioned earlier... " she hesitated, "... he asked what would happen if I got pregnant. We've never talked about it." It was a subject that Hermione had been aware of, but had pushed to the back of her mind. She had only consciously thought of it once before, when she had first visited his rooms. There was something that had made her not want to think about it - not because the idea was too terrible to contemplate, but because it wasn't. The way she felt about Severus had made it simply... not matter. Somehow - it was one subject that had produced an uncharacteristic recklessness in her that she couldn't explain. It was only Harry's question that had forced her to consider it in real terms. What would happen if she found herself carrying Severus' child, she wondered?

Severus' answer was unexpected. "It can't happen." It seemed that when the school had been built, Salazar Slytherin had felt that his own house's students could not be trusted to keep their hormones under control. He had placed a spell on the dungeons to ensure that children could only be conceived if both partners wanted it. Many years later, finding that Slytherins were not the only students with ideas on experimentation outside the field of magic, the spell had been extended to cover the entire school. "Finally," Severus told her, "they realized that the grounds had a few romantic spots, and the spell was extended to the whole of the grounds - after one or two unfortunate incidents!"

Hermione gave a wry smile. "I suppose you don't want to encourage the students by telling them!"

But Severus' thoughts seemed to be occupied with something else. "So, what else did Potter and Weasley have to say?" he asked her.

She sighed. From the feeling of tension in him, she didn't think that this was the best time to discuss this, but there was no point in avoiding it. His face became more taut as she repeated their words about her lies to them, and told him about their anger and feelings of betrayal. He stood, and began to pace the room, listening to her description of their conversation. The thing that worried her most was the way that his hostility seemed to be directed, not at the fact that her friends were angry with her, but at the mere mention of Harry's name.

"What was he doing there, anyway?" he demanded, surprising her with the force behind his words.

She had not had chance to ask them this, and she was as much in the dark as he. "I don't know, Severus," she told him.

"Sneaking around in the middle of the night under that infernal invisibility cloak!" His voice was bitter. "The two of them should just learn to mind their own damned business!"

Resolutely, she stood up. She had to stop this. Whatever was going on with his emotions, she couldn't deal with it right now, and neither, from the looks of things, could he. She had seen the mess in the classroom, knowing that not all of it had been caused during the fight. Something told her that Dumbledore had not been the one throwing bottles!

He was still pacing, and she moved to intercept him, standing firmly in his path. "Severus!" she kept her voice strong, but with no trace of reproach. This was not a time for conflict between them. "Calm down!" He stopped, and looked at her, surprised, but not angry, at her commanding approach. She continued. "Take a deep breath." He did so, and gave her a half smile, as she watched him force his emotions into check. But that was only the first step. Calming him completely was going to take more than a few deep breaths.

Gently, she led him by the hand to the fire, then moved to stand behind him.

The turmoil inside him was abating a little, as he faced the fire, gazing into the flames, but he could still feel every part of himself held tense and taut. What was wrong with him, he wondered. He should have more control over himself than this, and he had no right to subject Hermione to his rage. She touched his back and he took another deep breath, trying to quiet himself. Her hands slid up to his shoulders and then down the length of his back. He flexed his body in an attempt to release the tension that was making his muscles ache.

"Kneel down," she said softly, and he found himself obeying her instructions. He was still facing the fire and she remained behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders and pressing her warm body against his back. It was a long time before he found himself able to relax at all, even under Hermione's touch, but she was unrelenting in her handling of him.

Firmly, her hands kneaded his muscles, her fingers finding the knots in them and gradually working them through. He was so tense that the persistent fingers were almost painful for him, but he could feel himself beginning to relax under her touch. For a long time, she worked, until, eventually, his shoulders lowered slightly, then a little more, as his strain subsided.

Her fingers moved to the back of his neck, and he hung his head forward, allowing himself to become totally immersed in what she was doing. Her touch worked down from the hollow at the base of his skull downwards, then out to the sides of his neck, in smooth, circling motions. As he was totally consumed by the touch, mind and body became one, and his thoughts seemed to melt away with the tension in his body. His mind cleared of all other thoughts and he felt only those soothing hands.

She reached round to the clasp of his robes and slid them from his shoulders. The touch was more intimate through the thin fabric of his loose black shirt, and he felt himself unwind another turn. His anger and hatred were dimming, then forgotten, and there was only her touch - smoothing the knots from his muscles as her fingers continued in their spirals.

He made no attempt either to help or resist as she slowly removed his shirt and continued the massage on his bare shoulders. She was in control now, and he was content simply to be led wherever she wanted to take him. The warmth of skin on skin flowed deep into his sinews and he let out a long breath.

Her softly breathed instruction to lie down was followed slowly, but without question, and her hands continued their work on his whole back. It felt like hours that she worked on him, and it felt so good! The long strokes went from his neck down to his waist, and from shoulders to fingertips, finding every last trace of tension, and he released a barely audible moan of contentment.

It felt as though he were floating. He couldn't ever remember experiencing quite such a sensation before, and he felt a lightness and suppleness that he could hardly believe. He could barely feel it as she slipped the rest of his clothes from him, and was only vaguely aware when her hands left him for a moment as she slid out of her own robes.

He felt the weight of her small body on his back as she stretched herself on top of him. He had been too relaxed, during the massage, to think of anything but those tender hands, but as her body wriggled on top of his, and her lips nibbled teasingly at his ear, he felt a different kind of tension begin to arise. She rolled off his back and onto the thick rug next to him, and he moved to cover her body with his own. She was ready for him as he slid himself into her warm wetness, kissing her lips, her eyes, her cheeks, as he found a slow rhythm. Their bodies moved perfectly together as their sighs mingled and joined. He held himself back, wanting to prolong the experience for both of them. The look in her eyes told him how much she loved him and wanted him - emotions that he had never been aware of evoking in another, until Hermione. He had done nothing to deserve them, but here were peace and love, as he could never have imagined.

He knew her body's responses well, and brought them both to a climax together. The perfect bliss as he gave a final, releasing thrust into her, seemed to freeze time as they lay holding each other, still joined, in front of the flickering fire.

The worries and anger and pain of the day were gone and forgotten. Everything he wanted and loved - everything that mattered to him - lay in his arms. Whatever it took to keep her, he would do it. He knew, without doubt, that he could never bear to spend another day of his life without her close.