Early Christmas present, and a bit longer than usual, but I'm afraid there'll be nothing till New Year now.
This is M for naughtiness, though Severus is still a gentleman... ;-) Enjoy
Hermione fought the instinct to scramble to her feet and instead, closed her book, dropped it onto a nearby table and smiled at him. Even as her pulse hammered and her mind felt as though she would fly apart. She glanced to the clock. Just after eleven. Time had flown.
Severus waved for her to precede him. "What had you so enraptured?" His voice low and warm, surrounding her and a shiver flowed over her skin.
"My department head, Augustus Beggin said that I should make myself familiar with the workings of the Ministry. Departments, their history…"
"But you weren't doing that." It wasn't a question.
"I was…earlier." She blushed and led the way out of the library. "Then I found a book on advanced charms and I was lost." She pressed her hands together. "I have to brush my teeth." She drew in a steadying breath so that she didn't stutter. "Where's your bedroom, Severus?"
'The end of this corridor." He stroked her cheek, catching a loosened curl. "My door will be open."
Hermione didn't know whether she should run or dawdle. Instead, she backed away with an unsteady smile and took deliberate, slow steps to the floor below. Then she ran, racing across reception room, along the corridor, into her bedroom and skidding into her bathroom.
She leant against her sink, finding her breath and stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, but wide and nervous. Was she going to sleep with him? Stupid book for being so vague.
Getting hold of her panic, she shoved it down and set about cleaning her teeth. She splashed water on her face to cool her hot cheeks, dried them, found her wand and set off upstairs.
Her stomach was a knot. Damn it, she shouldn't be this nervous. She'd survived torture under Bellatrix Lestrange, had ridden a mad, half-blind dragon, had helped to take down one of the darkest wizards of all time. She was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake.
"Hermione, make yourself comfortable."
But none of that bravery counted or helped when faced with a half-naked Severus Snape. He lounged in his bathroom doorway, his chest bare and wearing only pyjama bottoms. He waved his toothbrush at her, and towards the large four-poster bed dominating the room.
She jerked a nod. The soft light from the room's candles played across his skin. Alabaster white with a dusting trail of ebony hair and honed in the lines of a sculpture of a Spartan warrior. Silver stood out against his perfection. Scars. Criss-crossing patterns. Perfect circles. A starburst of silver under his right rib. Great slashing claw marks. The faded lines of his Dark Mark, cut deep into his forearm. The savagery of Nagini's bite… What he had suffered under Voldemort made her war efforts seem paltry. And there was the trait she admired in him. He didn't give a damn what the world thought. That she had seen his war-marked skin.
Hermione closed her eyes and murmured an end to her glamours.
With a softly spoken spell, most of the flickering candles faded down to glowing wicks. Severus padded across the room on silent feet, Hermione tracking his every step. And she couldn't hold back her questions any longer. Exposure, be damned. She had to know what he had planned.
"The book you gave me wasn't clear. What will happen tonight, Severus?"
He stood beside the bed, tall, lean, his hair loose around his shoulders, skin as pale as a ghost, but his eyes were pools of heated darkness. Under the sheets, her hands clenched into fists to stop her tremors.
A smile lifted his lips. "You will still be a virgin in the morning, Hermione. I won't be as crass as to take you now."
Relief and an unexpectedly raging disappointment surged through her. "So we'll simply sleep?"
His smile darkened and her belly swooped. "More than simply."
The bed dipped as he climbed in and Hermione kept her breathing even. She'd fallen asleep on Harry before, so –technically— she'd done this. But now…
"Relax, Hermione." He turned on his side and held up his hand. "Lie next to me, your back to my chest. I will hold you."
She wriggled across the wide bed until she was only inches from him. She stared ahead into the darkness, aware of his alien heat even through the covering of her pyjamas.
A large hand took her hip and his breath stirred her hair. "Closer…"
Hermione bit her lip and wriggled again, Severus' soft laughter making her face burn. She hit a solid mass and stilled. His arm angled across her hip to slide his hand up between her breasts, as his chin nestled against her braided hair. His strong thigh pushed between hers and she pressed her hand to her mouth to deny a gasp at the brush of thick muscle against her legs.
"There you are," he murmured, his sinful voice dangerously soft. "You should always be held when you sleep. Magics entwine and offer peaceful dreams."
"We're…?"
"Sleeping, Hermione." He pressed a kiss to her hair. Her eyes closed at the almost affectionate gesture. "Sleep."
She drew in a deep slow breath, Severus' arm moving with her, the wrap of him strong and hot around her body strange, but delicious. Warm, with his now familiar scent surrounding her, she felt the surprising tug of sleep.
It pulled her down and under, her dreams filled with her wandering the light-filled flat, finding the library –expanded to the size of Hogwarts' own— the fire roaring in the hearth, and Severus sat before the golden blaze. He was dressed simply, as he had been, discreetly opened shirt and dark trousers. His feet were bare. He looked up from the book he was reading, his dark eyes warm and gold-touched from the fire. A smile lifted his lips.
"Hermione…" Had he spoken?
A lick of pleasure rose up over her belly and she hissed. Her body felt heavy and something was changing. The enveloping heat wasn't the fire, but sheets and arms and a man's hard, strong body. Parchment and freshly cut grass. She breathed it in and her heart drummed. Her eyelids fluttered. "Severus?"
"Good morning."
His voice was sultry, still thickened by sleep and it teased the pleasure beginning to fill her flesh. Something brushed her nipple and she gasped. Severus' hand was under her shirt, palming her breast, his thumb stroking rhythmically over the hard peak.
She should stop him, it wasn't… What? Right? Proper? It was very much both of those things. And more. She'd wanted this. Had wanted it for a long time.
His other arm skimmed her hip and he pressed his large hand low on her belly, holding her to him. His clothed erection pressed against her backside. He nuzzled her neck. "You taste sweet, little witch."
She melted against him and moved with the slow, smooth rocking of his hips. Her hand covered his as he drew patterns over the material of her pyjamas.
Slight pressure urged him lower, even as her heart slammed in her chest. He'd said they'd simply sleep. Was she taking advantage of him in his half-sleep? Was he of her? Had she only thought he'd said her name? Did he know who was in his bed? His long fingers stroked over her mons and all her questions and guilt fell away. Her only regret was that he didn't have his hand against her bare flesh.
Heat coiled in her belly as he nipped and licked and sucked the curve of her neck. Her thoughts span, the sensation he drove through her hotter and harder that anything she had managed to find on her own. His finger teased above her sex and she gasped, pushing back against him.
His warm laughter brushed her shoulder. "Sensitive?"
She hummed her agreement, not wanting to break the moment, in case he didn't know who he touched with such brilliantly clever hands.
"Just how sensitive?" Velvet darkness wove around his words and without a sound, her pyjamas vanished.
Hermione gasped, her skin on fire, his chest against her back, his muscled arms wrapped around her, teasing her nipple and his other hand slipping further between her legs. Her heart rocketed. Was this a part of The Agreement, this…overwhelming rush at the slid of his skin against hers? The satin smooth, mixed with the alien brush of hair, heat and scent.
Her breath came out in short pants now, her thoughts swirling as his fingers played, and slipped…and did something that sparked enough fire in her veins to melt metal… Hermione crushed her eyes shut, willing the tightness, the tension to break and what she knew, now, would follow to burst over her. Her hand crushed his. Working him faster, deeper—
A cry burst from her, startled, wild, her body bucking back against his as a brilliant white blast of heat swept over her flesh. For a moment, all thought was wiped away. Perfect, perfect golden peace.
"Fuck."
Hermione bit her lip. Yes, Severus had just remembered who was in his bed.
Severus rolled onto his back and pressed his hand to his face. His pulse hammered and his dick was aching, and Merlin save him, she was eager and right there. He groaned. Fuck, she was all over his fingers. The scent of her temptingly sweet arousal brushed against the corner of his mouth. His lips parted, his tongue almost, almost… He wouldn't taste her. He couldn't.
What sort of Mentoris –what sort of man— was he?
Severus swore under his breath and fought to regain control of his traitorous body. Virgins. He should stay far, far away from virgins. "Hermione." His voice was little more than a croak. He swallowed and his eyes refused to open. He couldn't face her. Not yet. "Hermione, did I hurt you?"
The bed shifted under him, evidence of her movement on the mattress. He flinched at the small hand that pressed to his cheek, frowning as her wet finger traced his lips, drawing their complete shape. "Lick."
He opened his mouth to object, finding the will to look at her. Her eyes were fierce, her jaw set. She really was a bossy little thing.
"Lick."
He did and the sweetness of her powered through him. He swore, his hips shifting. He pushed down the very real need to fist his hand around his dick. "Fuck, girl." He stared at her, probably wide eyed. She'd painted herself on his mouth and that thought tightened the coil of want in his gut.
"I saw you." She twitched a smile, propping herself up on the pillow beside him, her naked little body stretched out against his, all soft, scented curves and tempting heat. "You wanted to taste me. I obliged."
"You obliged?" The gods had to save him from forthright Gryffindor innocence.
She gave him a bright little grin. "I thought I tasted rather nice."
Severus pinched his eyes, welcoming the pain. And here he was worried about hurting her when she planned to kill him.
"Severus. It was good just now. I liked it. A lot."
Uncertainty rippled through her voice and he cursed himself again. He was meant to be taking care of her. He wrapped an arm around her, forcing a squeak as he pulled her to his side. He pressed a kiss to the tangle of her morning hair, the lingering scent of jasmine warming him. "I…" Fuck, he hadn't thought how their time together would open him up to her. "I am not used to sharing a bed. And when I do…"
"Your hands wander."
His face was hot. He was glad the little witch was tucked under his chin so he could avoid a witness to his embarrassment. At least his mortification had deflated his needs. "It was not planned, Hermione."
"Severus…" She pressed a kiss –quick, hesitant— to his skin, her fingers lightly running through the dark hair smattering his chest and an unexpected ache ran through him. Her affection kept catching him out. "It was a very good way to wake up." Her eyelashes brushed his skin and the delicate touch jumped his pulse. He cursed Molly Weasley. In fact, the first chance he had he would curse Molly Weasley…
"Has my ribbon changed?"
He looked down his nose at the girl, her wild hair obscuring her face. "No one will know. What we decide to do together is a private matter."
She pressed her chin against his chest, frowning up at him. "But I thought this," her fingers brushed the length of silk and Severus fought not to swallow as a soft thread of pleasure wound through his veins, "was all about display."
"The decision is mine. I had no wish for you to have the wizarding equivalent of hanging out a bloody sheet."
Her face reddened, her eyes dropping from his. Fuck, what had he said now? Why did he take her –this— on? Because of pride, because of watching the po-faced members of the Order of the Phoenix wrap their minds around the fact that he would have a sweet young thing all to himself…
For three months. The Granger girl wasn't his. Would never be his. When her time with him was up, the very second after, she'd hare off into the pack that would no doubt have hounded her… Damn Minerva for not doing her duty. As distasteful as it was, perhaps Lupin should have Magistered her. Though the thought of the mangy wolf being anywhere near her twisted and soured his gut.
"Hermione." He cupped her hot cheek and offered a short smile. He had courted the Dark Lord for years. He could work out how not to crush a nineteen year old girl. Though he had never wanted to roll Voldemort over and find bliss between his thighs… He shuddered against that horrific image. "Would you want our every move, every intimate touch to be shown at your throat?"
"No." She pressed a kiss to his palm and he almost flinched. "But I didn't know that was an option. The book on The Agreement is so thin as to almost have no information."
"You have the basics already." He didn't need to repeat them. This was Hermione Granger. Everything he said would be tattooed under her eyelids. "The only thing you have to accept is the attention your ribbon will bring. From the press and from men."
A line formed over her nose and he had the urge to smooth it away. He stopped himself. Understanding rose in her clear, brown eyes and was that a touch of distaste? Or his wishful thinking? Shit, he had to get out of bed, away from her, away from her warm soft skin pressed down the length of his body. Fuck…
"I would be ready. Primed." She curled her lip. "Is that what they do? Slaver after a recently unribboned-witch?"
"Some believe a newly experienced witch –or wizard— is all the sweeter. Better than doing the job themselves." He glanced at the clock on the mantle. Almost seven. Ministry drones punched in at nine. "Time to get ready for the archives."
She flushed, a smile curving her mouth. "I completely forgot." She eased herself away from him and his skin chilled at the loss of contact. She stilled and looked down at herself. Her flush deepened. "You vanished my pyjamas."
Severus knew he shouldn't, but his gaze lingered on her sweet little breasts and dark nipples. His mouth watered. But then he frowned. Her skin was cursed. A scar cutting down between her breasts, over her ribs to end above her navel. And her arm. Anger rose in him, hot and quick. Someone had dared to carve her up, dig 'Mudblood' into her flesh.
He drew in a calming breath, the need to slice hexes too fierce in his blood. "Who?"
She blinked and then something like shame moved though her eyes. No. He would not have this girl feeling guilty for the depravity of others.
"Hermione, who marked you?"
Shit, shit, shit. The golden light of the room was brighter than she thought, or he was simply more observant. He'd been a spy for decades. Of course, he was observant. Panic threaded through her and she wanted nothing more than to run, to wrap herself up like a mummy and hide in her room.
His gaze was fierce and anger moved through him. Did he not want her now? Her scars had kept her from others. Would they now keep the one man she wanted from her?
She pulled in her courage, but she couldn't hold his eyes, instead staring at the sheet her hand fisted. He'd asked a question. She would answer it before mortification completely swamped her. "The chest scar I received at the Ministry in my fifth year." She drew in a long breath, knowing that she would be dead if not for Severus' warning the Order of Harry's hair-brained plan to rescue a phantom Sirius Black. Whilst that man had sat safe –and unknowing— in Grimmauld Place. "Anton Dolohov."
She squeaked as Severus pressed his lips to the pointed edge of the scar cutting across her collarbone. Heat burned over her skin and she tried to catch her breath. She couldn't. Severus pushed her back into the pillows, his mouth sure as he traced the line with his lips, his tongue.
"You wear glamours. Yet you removed them."
Because of you. The words seared the tip of her tongue, but all thought was disintegrating under the fierce heat of his mouth. Down, down, between her breasts –and the sudden ache in her nipples forced a gasp— but he gave them no attention. Still, the silky coolness of his hair feathered over taut peaks and Hermione bit down on a knuckle to quieten her cry.
Would another man do this? Accept her scars? Kiss them? She ached to thread her fingers through his hair, give him a mere hint of the attention that he was lavishing on her.
And he didn't stop. Over her ribs and down to her belly. Her sex ached and she wanted, she wanted to urge him further, to have that beautiful mouth taste her fully...
Severus looked up, his lips shining, his hair deliciously mussed, dark eyes hot and wanton. "You trusted me with your secret."
"I trust you." And she always had –though she had to admit there had been a wobble over his part in Dumbledore's death. "I always will."
He looked away to her arm, changing position, pulling her to him as he lay on his side, so that they were level. He took her hand, teasing his fingers down over the ripped skin, still not quite healed. "Who did this?"
"Bellatrix."
His gaze narrowed, a hard line furrowing between his brows. "The same blade scored your neck."
She nodded, her mouth dry as, with his eyes fixed on hers, he pressed his lips to the first letter. Her nipples practically drilled holes into his chest, the heat and brush of skin and hair dancing over her senses. The need to hook her leg over his hip and grind herself against him was tight in her flesh.
"You survived. Survived them. They're howling beyond the veil…and you're here, naked and on the brink of ecstasy."
His voice wove through her and her mind spun. "The best revenge is to live well."
He grinned against her arm. "Exactly." He pressed the final kiss to the ragged 'D' and moved to drop a chaste kiss against her mouth. "With me, your glamours can stay off. If you wish."
She threw her arms around him and hugged him. Hard. He stilled before he awkwardly held her. Hermione closed her eyes, her face tucked against his neck and denied the raw heat in her eyes. She would not cry. She could be herself with him. No hiding. Just herself, scars and all.
"Hermione, time moves on."
She pressed a kiss to his neck and drew back. She willed herself not to be embarrassed, to be the cool, calm witch he wanted…but she'd probably destroyed any hope of that with her wild hugging. "Thank you, Severus."
He gave her a brief nod, his eyes shuttered. "Use a sheet to return to your room."
And he was out of his –their— bed and disappearing into his bathroom before she could blink.
For a moment, and because he was in another room, Hermione buried her face in his pillow. She breathed in his scent, the hints of herbs that seemed to cling to him and overlaid by the warmth of old books. It stirred something in her, some memory she couldn't quite grasp…
The clock struck the half hour. She swore. Shower, dressing and breakfast. Now.
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