Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.

Ch 12: Playtime

Snape was seated at his desk when she walked into his office. Without a word, Hermione walked over and dropped down to the floor to kneel before him, the stone uneven and cool against her bare skin. His only response was to spread his knees slightly and watch as she reached to unbutton his trousers. His length twitched in anticipation with each section she freed along the row.

One brush of her fingers across the smooth skin was all it took for him to harden completely within her tightening fist. Hermione exhaled softly, letting her warm, moist breath fan across his tip, and was rewarded when he jerked against her hand. She bit back a smile as he did, catching the way his hands balled into fists against the arms of his chair as well.

Eagerly, she dove upon him, swallowing as much of his length in a single move and relishing the hiss of pleasure that escaped Snape at her actions.

Her tongue swirled around his length as she eased her mouth up and down. Occasionally she flicked her tongue across the top or hollowed her cheeks until he'd shift or gasp. The little tells she earned were all the more rewarding because she knew he was trying to conceal them.

She'd only barely begun feeling the tingling warmth of the spell, but she'd decided to take advantage of the fact lunch was about to begin, and messaged Snape to meet. She'd removed her tie and transfigured her school skirt to be plain black as she'd taken to doing before each daytime visit when she didn't have time to return to her dorm and change into Muggle clothing.

"Ugh," he groaned loudly, the sound echoing in the room.

Hermione responded with a hum of appreciation, knowing he'd enjoy the additional sensation of vibrations against the sensitive skin. His girth filled her mouth completely, and she had to pull back slightly to catch her breath. Not wanting him to believe she was finished, she altered to licking the throbbing veins running along the underside of his shaft.

Gently, Hermione brought her hands up to run teasingly over his legs. Up and down his inner thighs. Each pass inching closer to his groin. Just as she reached his heavy scrotum, cupping and kneading his balls softly, she swallowed his cock again, burying her face in his lap.

She'd grown much more confident doing this to him over the last few months, though he usually stopped her as soon as he was hard. It was amazing how familiar she was becoming at reading him and deciphering the near invisible hints he revealed. Even then he tried to hide his reaction, though his ragged breathing, mingling with the sound of her steady sucking gave him up. Not to mention the white-knuckled grip he had on the arms of his chair.

"I believe that is sufficient," Snape announced tightly.

Hermione pulled back before taking him deep again, humming her agreement as she did. He groaned, fluttering eyelids sliding shut and lower jaw falling open.

There. That was what she'd been hoping for. She was determined to get more of a reaction out of him than she ordinarily did.

Not to mention she had promised to use her "filthy mouth" on him the next time they were together. She was merely living up to her word.

"Granger, if you don't stop now, this visit will have been futile," he warned in nearly a growl.

Deliberately, she swiped her tongue across the tip again and squeezed his ball sack just a little harder, making him jump and his hips buck swiftly.

His musky scent aroused her, making her inner walls quiver at what would soon be happening. There was nothing of the foul potion ingredient scents that used to cling to him. Now he simply possessed the rich aroma of amber and sandalwood. It was fitting for him to smell as masculine and commanding as those fragrances brought to mind for her.

"Granger," he hissed, cock jerking when she fisted the base to pump while she focused on the crown. "Since when do you not listen to instructions?"

The surprising jest startled a snort from her, and she hastily pulled back before she choked or accidentally bit him. When she saw the smirk he wore, she opened her mouth, intending to take him even deeper, but he caught her arms under the shoulder, lifting her quickly as he himself stood.

"Playtime is over," he growled, towering over her, though the heat in his eyes betrayed his enjoyment of 'playtime'. "Put your hands on the desk," he ordered, spinning her around.

She did as directed. His fingers delved beneath her skirt, unerringly finding her panties damp with desire. He cleverly shifted the material, exposing her slick slit and clit for his fingers to dance over teasingly.

"Were you this ready when you arrived?" he asked gruffly.

"No," she admitted, uncertain what he'd think of that.

"Hmm," he hummed, leaving her to wonder as he lined himself up with her opening.

The smooth tip, that she so recently was worshiping, slid temptingly through her folds, passing over her clit and making her cry out, "Ugh, Snape."

She was throbbing and jittery with want. All of the blood in her body had pooled between her legs, anticipating this moment for what seemed like forever.

Snape did it again, slower, dragging his cock along her with the tip barely brushing her clit and moving easily through her slick need.

"Please," she whispered hoarsely, head falling forward to dangle between her bracing arms.

Snape huffed slightly, and she realized he was deliberately waiting. Payback for her not listening earlier. Unconsciously, her sheath clenched around nothing, waiting desperately to be filled.

Fingers tapped her clit, an unsteady rhythm or an unfamiliar beat. Except the pressure wasn't enough. Too fleeting, and vanishing altogether when she rolled her hips, seeking more contact.

"Snape, I need you," she begged.

He gripped her hips as he finally entered her. Deep and penetrating. Just two short thrusts.

"Is this what you wanted?" he purred, the deep baritone gliding over her in a silky caress.

The question surprised her. The joy at finally being united was so great that she could hardly think straight.

"Yes," she admitted, daring to add, "so much."

The admission earned her his more dedicated attention on her clit. Tight circles stimulated the tiny bud. Each pass was punctuated with a thrust of his hips. He plunged into her relentlessly. Completely.

Hermione tilted her hips back to better receive him. Their bodies joined quick and hard. He filled her entirely, forcing her inner walls to stretch pleasantly around him.

All too soon he emptied himself into her. Then the heat and manipulations of his clever fingers undid her moments later. The rush of a high only he seemed capable of taking her on. The soar and plummet of a cliff jump that left her gasping and shaking and giddy.

She didn't wait around or try to talk to him when he slipped from her as soon as it was over, just readied herself as much as she was able and exited his office. By some unspoken agreement, she never lingered when they met during the day. It wasn't worth the risk of causing speculation among the other students.

Yet she couldn't help but slump against his office door when it closed behind her.

That had been…different. Decidedly different.

They never talked when she visited his office, but he'd been right in calling that playtime. It was always intense, mindlessly when the spell had her and just enjoyably so the other times. This had been different. Less reluctant perhaps? Or –

"Has he hurt you?" the hesitant question, voiced so quietly she almost missed it, broke through her reverie.

Glancing up, Hermione found Malfoy waiting in the shadow of the alcove that housed a bust of Marvayin the Magnificent across the hall. From the way he was scanning her person, he must have known what she and Snape had gotten up to.

Had he just asked if Snape hurt her? Where did he get off asking such a thing? As if it were any of his business! Given his own actions on the night she'd wound up in her current situation, he didn't get to assume false concern or indignation or whatever this was on her behalf.

Wait – was he hoping Snape did hurt her? Was he that twisted? Did he despise her that much merely because she was a Muggle-born, and smarter than him?

Anger at his audacity had her lips curling in distaste as she accused, "I know what you did. I know you're the one that poisoned Ron. So don't pretend to care or think I'll provide you with any satisfaction at my expense."

"He wasn't supposed to… Look, I hate you, but my father…"

"Your father did this to me," she interrupted, waving away his weak apology and narrowing her eyes.

"Has he hurt you?"

Hermione crossed her arms defensively. This was not a topic she felt comfortable discussing. Particularly with Malfoy of all people. She didn't understand his motives in asking.

"Would it matter if he did? What would you do about it? Cheer? Mock me?"

"I…"

"Don't worry, I'm sure I can guess - the same thing you did that night. Nothing," she huffed disdainfully. He truly was a coward.

"I told him no!" Malfoy cried, holding his hands up in a helpless gesture that made him look rather pitiful and young. It amazed Hermione how incapable he was of being his own person or forming his own opinions. Spineless. That's what he was.

"Only because you wouldn't want to dirty yourself by continuously touching a Mudblood," she hissed, watching him flinch at the very idea. "You were looking out for yourself, because you didn't want to force yourself on me."

"I'd never force myself on someone," Malfoy sneered, standing straighter and projecting such smug superiority that she felt the urge to punch him again. Then he went on, with a touch of obvious disgust, to say, "A Malfoy doesn't need to."

"Except, apparently, they do. You watched Lucius do it. He hurt that woman, and you didn't stop him," Hermione reminded him angrily.

She still had nightmares from what she'd seen. Times where she'd wake in a cold sweat with screams echoing in her ears and the scent of blood filling her nose.

"He's my father," Malfoy said vaguely, eyes darting all over the corridor as though searching for a better excuse or avenue of escape.

"Your mother must be so proud of the boy she raised," Hermione taunted, loathing the pale blond boy more than ever before.

"Don't talk about my mother," Malfoy raged, rushing forward and slamming her against the wall before she had a chance to register that he'd even moved.

"Agh!" Hermione screamed, terrified by the sudden aggression as his hands pinned her in place. She jerked, attempting to wrench free, but he squeezed her arms harder to prevent her release.

The office door swung inward, Snape's imposing form silhouetted in the opening.

"Draco!" he snapped waspishly. Snape inched forward, using his superior height and fierce scowl to intimidate the younger man. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Malfoy returned the glare, his fingers digging so deeply into Hermione's arms that they elicited a whimper from her, but he didn't retreat or relinquish his punishing grip.

"Let me rephrase – get your hands off of her. Now!" Snape barked.

Draco glanced between Snape and Hermione, brow pinching slightly as he considered what he was witnessing. Then he turned, shoving her into the wall a bit as he left without another word.

Snape watched the retreat, visibly simmering. Then those assessing eyes turned on her, looking her over carefully. Hermione wasn't sure which had frazzled her more – their previous encounter or Malfoy.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked crisply, each word bitten off and only barely containing the fury boiling within him.

That was the second time in less than five minutes a Slytherin had asked her that about another Slytherin. Surreal didn't begin to cover it.

"You shouldn't have done that," Hermione said softly, glancing down the hall where Malfoy had just disappeared from sight. His paleness making him appear to be one of the Hogwarts's ghosts.

"Pardon?" he asked in a clipped tone.

"You shouldn't have reacted so strongly. Now he believes you care for me," she warned, worry twisting her face as she considered the far reaching consequences of that happening.

Snape's jaw clenched, a tendon ticking visibly as he ground his teeth. But he didn't deny or dismiss her statement.

He took a deep, steadying breath then asked again, "Did he hurt you?"

Why was everyone insisting on asking her that today? Given the events of the last few months, today was nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary at any rate.

The intensity in Snape's gaze prompted her to answer, saying, "No. It didn't get that far. He just tried to frighten and intimidate me." It dawned on her that it could have been worse. If Snape had not appeared when he had, she might have provoked Malfoy further. To the point he retaliated physically. Or more physically she should say, considering the steady throbbing in her upper arms, pounding in time with the beats of her heart. It wasn't that much of a stretch to believe him capable. Not after seeing how his father had broken. "Thank you, Snape."

"Why? What was that?" he demanded.

"I'm not entirely sure," Hermione hedged, shrugging. The movement generated a deeper twinge in her arm, and she absently rubbed at the spot.

Snape's scowl blackened when he saw her do it, but the sound of approaching students echoed down the corridor, forestalling any comment he would have made on the subject. He gestured towards his office, holding the door for her to enter ahead of him.

"Well?" he asked, expecting her to explain.

Not sure if he meant her arm or Malfoy's actions, she chose to focus on the latter, saying, "He asked if you hurt me."

"And?" he prodded, urging her to elaborate on what had caused the encounter to escalate so quickly. After all, she'd only just left his office when it happened.

"And I said his mother must be proud of him," Hermione admitted sheepishly.

"Narcissa is a sore subject for Draco," Snape mused, reaching to tuck a strand of ebony hair behind his ear.

"Obviously," Hermione huffed, pursing her lips. Not expecting an answer, she asked, "Why?"

"Her life is on the line should he fail," he said darkly, eyes going distant and shuttered. The fact that he answered shocked her.

"Fail?" she asked, frowning. Was he referring to Malfoy's instructions to drive a wedge between her and Harry?

"The Dark Lord's task."

"What task?"

"The one you already know of - the one to kill our esteemed headmaster," Snape said briskly, shaking his head slightly at her temporary inability to follow his line of thought. The silent chiding left her feeling embarrassed, but at least she had the excuse of being rattled from Malfoy's actions to explain her being dimwitted.

"And to save Malfoy, you're going to do it for him," she replied absently, getting her thoughts back in line.

"That is the plan," he said dryly.

"Is he worth saving?" Hermione asked, sincerely doubting it after his earlier behavior.

"I certainly hope so," Snape said, sighing loudly. Sudden weariness slumped his shoulders, an invisible weight strangling his neck. "And Albus does believe it."

"Then if he asks again, which response would serve you better – that you hurt me or not?"

"I've already told you he doesn't trust me, so I hardly see why it should matter," Snape answered stiffly, avoiding meeting her eyes. "Say whatever you wish about me."

"You don't. You never have," she promised gently, reaching to lay a hand on his arm. It was a reassurance she'd offered him before, yet he still seemed to doubt. Was having one of his students question it what made him question that truth again now?

After a brief glance at her hand, he finally met her searching gaze. Almost instantly she felt a now familiar fluttering in her mind.

Only a few seconds later he announced, "Lunch is nearly over."

"How often do you do that?"

Snape blinked, a single skeptical brow rising as he casually asked, "Do what?"

"Enter my mind," she clarified, unamused by his feigned ignorance.

"You noticed?" he asked, skillfully avoiding answering her directly.

"Yes. Don't dodge the question," she commanded.

"How often have you noticed?" he asked instead.

"Why don't you just ask me what you wish to know?" she asked, turning the tables on him and answering a question with another question as he had a habit of doing when he didn't wish to share his thoughts. Though he was usually more defensive when he did and the barbs he threw left the person regretting that they'd ever dared to ask in the first place.

"And trust that you'd answer honestly?" he volleyed, unwilling to admit what he was searching her mind in the hopes of discovering.

"I don't lie to you," Hermione said quietly, shaking her head slightly in disappointment. Would they ever reach a point where they truly trusted one another?

"You don't always share everything either," he finally replied after a lengthy pause. As though that justified his invasion of her privacy.

"Because you're so forthright with me?" she countered.

"I have been charged with your protection. Occasionally that involves protecting you from me," he said enigmatically.

"And I have been charged with protecting you," she reminded him, recalling her recent talk with Dumbledore. "But how can I when you refuse to open up even a little?"

"I am unaccustomed to sharing anything from my personal life. It is often a matter of safety. Other times it is so I have fewer lies to keep track of," he answered carefully. Each word sounded forced, as though it was pried from him with the greatest reluctance.

"Then don't lie to me. Let me be the one you share only the truth with," she said beseechingly.

Hermione waited. Two or three minutes passed, but nothing more was said.

"I should be going," she said tightly, trying to mask her disappointment.

A flash of pain crossed his face, but he didn't try to stop her.

Hermione was studying in the common room when Ron was finally released from the hospital wing two weeks after his initial poisoning. She held her breath when he caught sight of her, and smiled hesitantly his way. Then he shocked her by heading over to stand directly before her.

"You came to see me," he announced.

"You almost died," she pointed out, unsure if he was angry that she had.

She would have visited again, but Harry had warned her that he needed a bit of time to process learning Hermione wasn't interested in him romantically anymore. Though she couldn't imagine how it had come as such a shock to him. Not after the distance that had developed between them since Christmas. Since her marriage.

"But I didn't," Ron pointed out, grinning in that charming way of his that had always made her heart skip a beat. Except this time it didn't. She merely felt amused and immensely grateful that he was still alive.

"Lucky Harry was there," she teased, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted. It was easier.

Besides, they were finally not fighting. She didn't wish to set him off again.

"We seem to say that a lot," he mused, huffing a bit.

"We do," she agreed.

"'Course he's usually the reason we're in danger in the first place," Ron pointed out, shrugging and using his hands to mimic a set of weighing scales.

"Not his fault a psychopath wants him dead," Hermione said, smiling as she played devil's advocate.

Ron's smile faded, and he abruptly changed the subject, quietly saying, "You got Lavender…when I was unconscious, you got Lavender."

"She really cares about you," Hermione said equally softly.

"I guess," Ron said uncomfortably.

"If you don't feel the same you should tell her," Hermione advised sagely, reading his thoughts clearly.

"Yeah?" he asked hopefully. Too hopefully.

"But I think you're good together," she added hastily, not wanting to give him the wrong impression that he could be with her if he did ditch Lavender.

"Oh," he said, utterly crestfallen.

"I missed having you as a friend, Ron," she continued, emphasizing the word friend so that he'd not mistake her meaning.

"Oh," he muttered, shuffling his feet a little.

"We're good as friends. You remind me that I need to find balance between work and fun," Hermione said meaningfully, every word as true as the stars in a night sky.

"I guess I am good at that," Ron said, perking up a little.

"You are," she vowed, willing him to believe it wasn't just lip service on her end. She valued their friendship. Cherished it. Every bit as much as she did hers with Harry. They were the first friends she'd ever had.

"And you point out when I'm being a git," he said frankly, a silent extension of his version of a peace offering.

"You haven't been listening to me much lately," she snarked, hearing the similarity to Snape's dry humor in her remark.

"That's fair. Harsh. But fair," Ron allowed, smiling broadly.

"So friends again?"

"Always," he replied immediately, moving to perch on the arm of her chair and throw a casual arm around her shoulders. "Besides, without us, who would look after Harry?"

"It's a full time job," she laughed, relaxing more fully than she had in months.

"Took you lot long enough," Harry chimed in, coming into view and grinning at the pair of them.

Finally. Finally their group was whole again. Everything was as it was meant to be.

"Brekkie?" Ron asked eagerly, rubbing his stomach as he announced, "I'm bloody starving. I swear Madam Pomfrey was trying to starve me in the hospital wing."

"Of course she wasn't, Ron!" Hermione sighed, shaking off his arm and standing. She inhaled deeply, preparing herself to lecture him – despite knowing he wouldn't really listen to a word she said. "She's in the business of healing people. Starving them would be counterproductive. Besides, you'd just been poisoned – in case you forgot. Your body could only handle so much or –"

"We should invite Ginny to join us," Harry interrupted, having just caught sight of her coming down the dormitory stairs.

"She and Dean have been fighting again," Hermione confessed, biting her lip to suppress the smile that threatened when Harry went on alert at the news.

"Oh?" Harry asked, doing a horrible job of faking nonchalance.

"I don't want my baby sister tagging along all the time," Ron complained.

"She's been a sight better company than you have lately," Hermione replied tartly, elbowing Ron's side playfully.

"Ouch," he said, rubbing the tender spot with one hand, but he waved his sister over anyway.

"The Golden Trio is back together then?" Ginny said, taking in the sight of them together.

"What?" Harry asked, looking perplexed by the descriptor.

"Nothing," Ginny said, exchanging a smile with Hermione.