Severus Snape had been staring at Hermione Granger for a long time. It had to be nearly midday by now, and she was still fast asleep. He really should get up, or at least move to the other bed but … he didn't want to. He felt like he needed to be near her, to feel the dip of her weight on the bed, to see her…
Everything had changed in the last 24 hours. Everything.
He'd received Miss Grangers … Hermione's … attempts to speak to him with nothing but scepticism at first, but she'd been so persistent. Persistent to the point where it seemed more likely that she wanted to contact him … just to … talk. Feeling his pocket watch, still tucked away deep in his robes growing warm, feeling it keep growing warm, day after day, it seemed just the thing the insufferable little know-it-all would do. What she would do, not anyone else trying to trap him, not someone using her to get to him, just … her. When his shields had been at their lowest it had been so hard to ignore her, but of course, he'd had to.
But then she'd sent him that message, and a hope so fragile and so dangerous had burst onto his chest, hope that maybe she had figured it out, and he wouldn't be quite so alone. He'd spent days having an internal war as to whether he should go to see her or not. Part of him had been so convinced it was a trap, so terrified that she would betray him, as she believed he had betrayed her, but in the end the tiny, desperate part of him that needed to see her, that needed … her … had won. And he'd gone. Hours early of course, in the hope that if it was a trap, it wouldn't have been properly set up, and he'd have a better chance of detecting it, or getting away safely, but he'd still gone.
He'd barely gotten over the wholly unpleasant sensation of a tongue-tying curse nearly choking him when Hermione had come hurtling round the corner, her hair in disarray, her face pale and strained. His stomach had dropped. All at once he'd needed her, needed to be near her, touch her, know that she was there and real and not about to scream at the sight of him.
He'd stepped forward, and then … something had stirred by her feet, and a dreadful, ghostly figure had risen from the ground. Dusty and fleshless and terrifying, Albus Dumbledore had flown towards him. And he'd felt his shields fail, and a terror had overtaken him, a terror that somehow he'd made a mistake, and Dumbledore hadn't wanted him to end his life after all… The figure had pointed an arm at him and he'd been so terrified all he could do was stand there.
And then it was gone.
He's stood motionless, in complete shock, his adrenaline levels through the roof, and then Gra-Hermione had appeared through the dust, running towards him as fast as she could, tears falling from her eyes, and he barely had time to decided if he was more afraid, or more confused, when she'd thrown her arms around his neck, almost knocking him backwards with the force of her embrace, holding onto him so tight…
Stunned. That was all he could think, feel, even looking back at it now.
"I'm so sorry". She'd choked out.
And then he'd felt his shields, the only thing that had been protecting him from the horror of what he'd done, fall around him in tatters.
He'd killed Dumbledore.
She was sorry.
All he'd known after that was that he'd needed her. He'd needed her. And he'd held onto her so tightly, as tightly as he possibly could.
What had happened after was more difficult to remember.
He could recall the absolute disgust, the absolute agony as what he'd done had washed over him like an icy wave. He remembered crying. He remembered hating that he was crying. He remembered her arms holding onto him, her soft voice in his ear.
The next thing that came readily to mind was her words.
"I wish you could have told me, I wish I'd known, or figured it out or something. I'm so sorry. Knowing you had to do that, knowing you'd be alone, it must have been awful. I'm so so sorry."
He'd had to pull away from her then, to see her face to judge whether or not she was speaking the truth. And she had been. And then the need he'd felt for her earlier had turned into something else all together, and it had been fierce and hot and intoxicating. Their eyes had locked, hers had widened, the smallest of smiles on her lips … and then they'd kissed. Her lips had felt … perfect.
But then she'd pulled away and a lifetime of insecurity and fear and loneliness had caught up to him, he'd been terrified that he'd ruined whatever it was between them because he was so bloody weak, tears had threatened to take hold once again and he'd pulled away from her.
It had felt like a very long time passed. Then her hands had been on his face, the contact coming as a surprise and making him flinch. She'd looked deeply into his eyes, it was a look that had made him feel entirely naked before her, and then she'd leant slowly towards him. He'd waited it total shock, total anticipation, as her lips had come closer and closer to his, and she'd kissed him. She'd kissed him. She wanted this too. It was a realisation that had set this blood on fire. His tongue had been in her mouth, hers in his, and it was as if nothing else mattered. Nothing except her. He'd pulled her close to him, wanting to feel as much of her as he could, this wonderful, insufferable girl who understood, despite everything, she understood, and the little minx had slipped happily onto his lap, straddling him, pressing herself up against him.
As more and more heat had pulsed through him, a distant part of his mind had wondered how on earth this had happened, and how long he'd wanted this for, because it just felt … right.
When the kiss eventually ended, a tingling emotion had overtaken his chest, but there was nervousness too, and Hermione had just smiled at him, another beautiful smile that somehow soothed him. She put her hands on his face once more, gentling stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, a look of endless understanding on her face, and he'd been incapable of doing anything but smiling back at her.
His name on her lips was … almost painfully erotic. The gentle way she said it, the movement of her mouth, the superior gleam in her eyes as if she was uttering something precious.
But then…
Lily.
His Lily.
He loved Lily.
How had he forgotten his Lily? His wonderful, forever Lily.
"Who's Lily?" Her voice was cold.
Oh.
He'd realised he must have spoken out loud, God he'd been a mess.
He'd looked up at Hermione, her face had been composed still but … hurt. Betrayed.
Shit.
He'd had no idea what to do then, he didn't want to hurt this wonderful little witch on his lap, he cared for her far more than he'd realised, but … he loved Lily. He'd known he had to at least explain to her.
And despite what had just happened, Hermione had stood, held out her hand to him, intertwined her fingers with his, and led him calmly to the kitchen.
"I think you should start from the beginning."
He's stared at her for the longest time. He'd never, never spoken about this before. But he'd known he owed her an explanation. And he'd known he could trust her. And they'd been times when he'd wanted to tell her before…
He'd told her pretty much everything, leaving out only his pitiful excuse for a childhood and joining the Death Eaters. Those parts hadn't been relevant. And Hermione had just sat there and listened, no interruptions, no judgements, just ears and endlessly compassionate eyes. She'd even taken his hand again. No one had ever been so … patient … with him before. He couldn't understand it.
"You don't have to stop loving Lily."
His heart had stopped beating when she'd said that.
"You can still love Lily, and we can still try … this. She's been dead for nearly 16 years Severus. Widowed men remarry in a lot less time than that, it doesn't mean they didn't love their first wives, it doesn't mean they don't still love them… It just means… It just means that life goes on, and so must we.
"You wouldn't be betraying her. It wouldn't make your love, your loyalty mean any less."
It had felt like someone had suddenly turned on all the lights in the middle of the night and his eyes couldn't adjust quickly enough. The bloody girl was such a know-it-all. Such a wonderful, beautiful know-it-all.
The kiss that had followed that conversation had been the sweetest thing that had ever happened to him.
He still felt a little … guilty … about Lily, he knew logically that what Hermione had said was perfectly true but … somewhere in his heart it still felt like a betrayal of sorts. But life did have to go on, and he wanted Hermione to be a part of his. He needed her to be. He just needed her.
Insecurities had taken over after that. She was young, clever, beautiful in her own little way, and he was … not.
"I – I've wanted this for a very long time. I'm completely infatuated with you. Infatuated and enthralled. I'm just…"
Her eyes had gleamed and her words… Her word were so … so unbelievable. But she was a bad liar, and he'd been able to see the truth in her face. She'd been speaking the truth.
His heart had felt like it was glowing.
And now they were going to try. No pressure, no big promises, no expectations.
Severus smiled to himself.
He'd told her all about Dumbledore then, realising he'd spoken about more intimate things with her in one afternoon than with anyone else in the rest of his life put together. He'd been so drained after that. Drained but oddly relaxed, revealing so much had seemed to be cathartic.
And then he'd remembered her parents. They'd played a contributing role in his decision to go to Grimmauld Place. The thought of Hermione's parents being killed, her pain … he'd wanted to warn her if he'd had the chance. But with all that had happened … they'd slipped his chaotic mind.
"I know it's not your fault." She'd reassured him quietly, and once again he'd wondered when she'd become so good at reading him.
They way she just knew … it was…
He'd had to kiss her then. He'd just had to. And she'd kissed him back.
"I'm very pleased you decided to come here Severus."
No answer he could give her would ever be able to convey how desperately grateful he was for what had happened. He'd never be able to put it into words. Believing oneself to be totally hated, totally alone … and then finding you have an ally. But not only an ally, and ally who you trust, admire, an ally who cares about you despite everything you've done, who accepts you, who's infinitely kind and beautiful and sets you alight… It was just too much to conceive.
When she'd left to get food, he'd been unprepared for how panicked he'd found himself. He'd waited for her to return with fear holding his heart in its icy fist, paranoid she wouldn't come back to him, or worse, would come back with the Order in tow.
But she'd come back, alone. And he'd never known relief like that before.
And then she'd asked him if they could stay the night. He'd been planning to anyway, even Grimmauld Place was better than Malfoy Manner, having to conceal your true self constantly, being surrounded by the enemy… It wasn't a pleasant experience. But somehow he hadn't thought that Hermione would stay too, let alone suggest they stayed in the same room. But she had, with many a pretty pink blush.
He'd changed into an old Weasley pair of pyjamas feeling as if he'd suddenly stepped into someone else's life, and trying not to feel completely useless. And then Hermione had entered in pink, lacy sleepwear, not revealing but immensely flattering. She'd looked … stunning. He'd wanted to tell her so, but his mouth felt entirely unequipped to utter something like that.
"I like seeing you with fewer clothes on."
That was probably the hottest thing anyone had ever said to him. Her big amber eyes, the smirk on her lips, the way her hands were placed so gently on his shoulders. He'd kissed her again. Properly, and he'd felt as if he needed her with every fibre of his being. She fitted so snugly up against him, she'd kissed him so fiercely, pouring everything into the kiss, into him, and he'd taken it happily. When she'd bitten his bottom lip like that, so innocently but with such a dirty look on her face, it had sent a bullet of desire through his bloodstream and he'd felt his dick spring into life, a distant part of his mind worried, but mostly he'd been way too far gone to care.
And then she'd stroked him through his pyjamas, with no prompting from him, nothing, she'd just done it. It had been an embarrassingly long time for him. He was by no means a blushing virgin, they'd been plenty girls, mostly drunken one night stands or girls the Death Eaters were rewarded with in the first war, but they'd either just been going through the motions or too drunk to even be properly aware. He'd always been selfish, because none of them had truly wanted him, none of them. But Hermione wanted him. They'd locked eyes and she'd slowly run her fingers along the length of him, and when he'd shuddered she'd given him a slow smile, a truly wicked look in her eyes, and he'd kissed her gently as she explored him after that, half entranced by the soft movement of her fingers, half scared she'd realise what she was doing and be disgusted.
She'd slid her hand under his waist band and grasped him firmly in her hand. It had come as an almighty shock. She'd moved her hand up and down the length of him, teasingly slowly, and he'd had to break the kiss, unable to think of anything but what she was doing to him, so willingly.
She'd peppered his jaw line with kisses then, working her way up to his ear and breathing had suddenly become much more difficult.
"Hermione, are you sure you want… You don't have-"
And the chit had shut him up with a kiss.
"I want to." She'd said, her voice almost husky, and as she'd pulled down his bottoms, knelt by his feet, and kissed the end of his dick, he'd been unable to suppress a shiver of amazement, of pure desire at her apparent regard for him.
Perhaps it had been the confidence in her movements, the deft swirl of her tongue, the steady motion of her hand, the lust in her eyes as she'd watched him get closer and closer to the edge. Maybe it had been because he'd been experiencing a feeling that was the polar opposite of the despair he'd lived through earlier, but what she'd done to him was undoubtedly the best experience of his life. A quiet part of his brain had been embarrassed by some of the noises he'd been making, but they'd only encouraged her, and the way she'd handled him … it had been as if she was caring for him, helping him, seeing him as someone who deserved pleasure.
As he'd got closer to his release, the last of his pride had dissolved in a wave of heat and bliss and it had taken every inch of the little self control he'd still possessed not to thrust into her sweet mouth with abandon. The strength of his orgasm had ripped through him, shaking him to his very core, every inch of him had stiffened, his toes curling on the carpet, his eyes squeezed shut, and a sound he'd only dimly registered was from him had come from his mouth like a howl. It was an orgasm that stole every breath from his lungs, made his ears ring and his eye sight bleary. He'd been on the verge of collapse when he'd felt her strong arms around his waist and grabbed onto her shoulders, desperately trying to draw in a breath and stem the tears falling from his eyes.
Why had he cried?
Perhaps for all the reasons that had made it so wonderful. That and the knowledge that he could never deserve something so amazing.
And it was his student. Out of everyone, it was his student. His student who had broken through so many of his walls with such ease and such grace, his student who had never given up on him, his student who still trusted him, and cared about him, and his student who was so willing to touch him in way no one else had ever wanted to.
Remembering such things was probably not his best plan. His cock was most definitely awake. He forced his mind elsewhere, but then noticed that Hermione Granger was stirring. She'd always had impeccable timing. Nervousness clenched his stomach as her eyes fluttered open, but he needn't have worried… A slow smile spread over her face as her eyes focused on him.
"Morning."
"Morning.
She gave him a look a mock innocence.
"I wasn't aware you were a sleepwalker, Severus."
He flashed her a warning look but couldn't stop the smirk playing on his lips. Insufferable woman.
She shuffled closer to him on the bed and he pulled away slightly, uncomfortably aware that certain parts of his anatomy were still far more awake than Hermione. She frowned slightly at him, but didn't comment. Her right hand emerged from the covers and made its way slowly towards his face. She brushed his hair back, raking her fingers against his scalp and down behind his ear. He sighed. Her fingers stroked over his face, her gentle exploration of his forehead, his eyebrow, the length of his nose and the shape of his lips arousing him far more than he was comfortable with. Hermione grinned at him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, and slowly began to move her hands down his neck…
Shit.
He grasped her hand in his own, sighing to himself. He didn't want to speak of this.
"Hermione …" Where should he begin? "I don't want you to touch my chest or my back. Please."
He braced himself for her onslaught of questions but they didn't come. She was looking at him oddly.
"Okay." She agreed, her attitude surprising him. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"
A playful little smile was shining around her mouth.
"I don't believe so." He answered, suddenly flustered. "I don't want … I wouldn't like … any form of restraint."
He felt himself go crimson, whether it was from what they were discussing or why they were discussing it he wasn't sure.
"Okay." Her voice was very close to him.
He looked up and Hermione had shuffled closer, their faces inches apart.
"Thank you for telling me … Severus."
His name on her lips made him shiver, and all at once she pulled her hand out of his and cupped him through his pyjamas, making him gasp.
"No."
She instantly removed her hand and looked at him in silence, an anxious expression on her face.
"Hermione, I … I have been very selfish. I would like to rectify that … if you … if you would let me."
"Oh." A blush flared on her cheeks as she caught his meaning and Severus tried not to be quite so embarrassed.
"I'm not … overly experienced at … that … but I would very much like … if you would allow me-"
She leant towards him and kissed him, fierce and intense and wonderful. Her hands pulled his arms and he followed her lead till he was leaning towards her, supporting himself up with his elbow and forearm, while his other hand was in her hair, his heart thundering at his own bravery, the wiry but soft texture slipping through his fingers, snagging on the occasional curl. He felt like an inexperienced teenager when she guided his hand down her body, his groin growing worryingly hot when his fingers brushed against her nipple through her pyjamas and a jolt going through his entire body when he realised she somehow wasn't wearing any bottoms. His breathing hitched when he felt her curls on his fingertips, and breathing became rather difficult altogether when his fingers slipped between her folds and he felt how wet she was. He broke the kiss to stare at her face, his scrutiny made her blush, and as she showed him exactly how she liked to be touched, instructively, but without making him feel foolish, the blush spread across her face, turning into a flush of chest and neck and cheeks and he marvelled at how deeply he felt for this impossible girl. Severus followed her lead and dipped a finger inside of her, swirling it round and stroking her soft walls, then bringing it in a vertical line upwards until his felt her clit, rubbing up and down and around her bundle of nerves. She stroked the line between his brows with a dainty finger and he dipped his head to place a gentle kiss on her lips, not wanting to break his concentration but needing to be close to her.
He watched her slowly turn heavy lidded and breathless with a mixture of wonderment and fascination. The thought of doing this to a woman had never seemed particularly appealing to him before, but for some reason doing this to Hermione, doing this for Hermione, felt like one the best things he'd ever done. He knew she was getting close when she started squirming slightly under his hand. She shifted against him again and her hand came up to grip his shoulder. Her eyes had been shut for a time but she opened them to look at him, and so many emotions were revealed to him as her breathing rate increased.
"Thank you." She whispered, then her eyes squeezed shut and she shuddered, her whole body stiffening, her hips lifting against the gentle thrumming of his fingers and she came with the softest of moans, long and drawn out, almost like a sigh. Seeing her like that, completely undone by him, shaken and flushed and holding onto him… She was beautiful.
Hermione collapsed back onto the bed and gasped for breath, while he quickly whispered a cleaning charm for his fingers.
"That … that was amazing." She said quietly, staring at him with wide eyes.
He allowed himself a self satisfied smirk; he always had been a fast learner.
Suddenly she was pushing against his shoulder and he was on his back and she was on top of him, on leg either side of him, his erection digging against her through his pyjamas. She pinned him to the bed, her small hands against his shoulders and he felt a moments panic, wondering if she'd already forgotten what he'd told her, but she made no movement, just stared at him for a moment that seemed to stretch for a little infinity, he felt himself relax slightly, and then she was kissing him, his forehead, down his nose, his cheeks and finally his mouth, her tongue slipping inside, her hair curtaining his face, and he found himself completely consumed by her, she was everywhere. And for the first time, in a very long time, he felt … safe.
She gentled the kiss and pulled away from him ever so slightly, their noses maybe an inch apart. Severus pushed her hair away from face with one hand, his boldness sending a stab of fear through him, but there was a fire burning in her eyes that left him incapable of thinking of much else but her. She shifted herself forwards slightly, and sat just above his hips, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Not breaking eye contact she undid the first button on her pyjamas. He lay beneath her, absolutely frozen to the spot, mesmerised as her fingers nimbly undid the second button. Something of his expression must have amused her, because she chuckled slightly, her eyes warm, giving him a look that made him hot all over before she leant forwards and took his face in her hands, placing the softest of kisses on his lips that he was powerless to respond to, before sitting back up, and undoing another button.
When she got to the final button he forgot how to breathe, almost painfully aroused, his heart beating so loudly he was sure she could hear it. He could see a triangle of naked, creamy flesh underneath her collar bones… And then she peeled back her top… And then she was naked. And she was … perfect. Her pale, flawless skin, the smooth curve of her waist, the gentle swell of her breasts and the darker skin of her areola… Perfect. He noticed the silvery line of a scar on her chest, his mind took him back to her 5th year, the battle at the Department of Mysteries and an irrational jab of anger shot through him.
"Severus…"
He wanted to touch her with a desperation that scared him. He needed to touch her, he needed her to touch him … but he'd spent most of his life terrified of touch, with very little experience of touching in return … and now…
"Touch me."
It was as if she could read him like a book. No one had ever known him like she did. Especially now. And he couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. A lifetime of loneliness and withdrawal and disapproval … and now this.
With troubled eyes Hermione picked up one of his hands lying uselessly by his side, brought it up to her face, kissing across his palm, up his thumb, and everything was reeling around him. She rested her cheek against his palm then guided his hand down to the base of her neck. He could feel her accelerated pulse.
"Touch me Severus."
This was a bad time to be speechless. His quick tongue was something he'd come to rely on immensely, this was probably the first time it had failed him since he was a young teenager.
Words. He needed to say words.
"W-where?"
He felt himself flush and looked away from her.
"Anywhere." She answered softly, and his eyes snapped back up to hers.
He could touch her anywhere he wanted.
Slowly he moved the hand on her neck downwards, running it between her breasts, not quite brave enough to touch them yet, down her stomach to the top of her curls; he felt more comfortable touching there for some reason. There were goose-bumps where his fingers had been. Curious, he placed both his hands on her hips, then trailed them slowly up her sides, a thrill running over him when more goose bumps appeared there. He paused as his hands came level with her breasts, running a thumb underneath them, then looking up at Hermione. She smiled at him. It was a heated, fiery and proud smile that gave him the silent encouragement he needed to cup her beautiful tits in his hands. For a moment he was afraid he would cum. He had never been with a woman like this. He'd never touched a woman like this, never been allowed to, never been with someone who wanted him like this, who responded to his touch as if he were … someone else. He brushed his thumbs against her nipples watched in awe as they hardened, the soft noise in the back of her throat making him even harder, and then she fell upon him again, her hair cocooning him, kissing hard and long, and his hands stroked her back, her sides, her breasts again, marvelling at her softness and his own courage.
Then she undid the top button of his own pyjamas. He froze, reality crashing back down on him, an old pain coursing through him.
"Sorry." She said quietly, pulling away slightly to look at him. "I was careful not to touch you so I thought…."
Something on his face must have worried her because she sat back up to look at him properly, a crease between her brows.
He'd never let anyone this far in. He'd used charms or glamours to hide the worst of what had happened to him over the course of his pitiful life. He didn't want to hide from her, but he was terrified to reveal … everything to her. The whole of him. He wanted her. He wanted her so much … but … it was hard to think straight like this. Perhaps it would be better to hide … but he didn't want to. He didn't. But showing her … allowing her to see … It was… It might … it might send her running. She knew him far better than perhaps anyone else … but she didn't know the extent of his … his … damage.
"Tell me." She said gently, and once again fear shot through him at just how deep he'd already let her in.
Perhaps it would be better for her to leave now than when she … when she found out about Potter's fate, about his knowledge of Potter's fate, that he was too afraid to tell her. Perhaps letting her in a little more wouldn't be too painful. Perhaps it would be freeing for someone to know…
He pushed her firmly off him, moving to stand in front of her as she knelt naked on the bed before him.
"You … you should know who I am." He said firmly, the steadiness of his own voice giving him courage.
"I already do." She answered fiercely, and under different circumstances he might have laughed.
"It was immeasurably selfish of me to let things get this far. You can't know … you can't want … this."
She opened her mouth to argue, the same fierce expression on her face but he held his hand up to silence her.
With an aching chest, Severus roughly undid the buttons of his pyjama top and yanked it off of his shoulders, discarding it on the floor and fighting the urge to cover himself.
He couldn't look at her, knowing what she was seeing. A broken man, a lot older than herself, too thin, too pale, scars littering his chest down to his belly button, some thin and white, some ragged and dark. He braced himself, and turned his back to her, so she could see the rest, a chill running over him. His back was far worse. His back was probably more scarring than skin. There were lumpy scars from burns, odd patches of raised skin, criss-crosses of lines, deep slashes from knives and broken bottles. That wasn't to mention the Dark mark forever branded on his arm, his greasy hair, his hooked nose, his terrible teeth. He was … bad. He was just bad. And now she knew.
Hermione hadn't uttered a sound since he'd revealed himself to her, and being so naked before her, in every possible way, left him feeling vulnerable and shaken and he hated it. He hated being exposed like this. He hated it too much to turn back around and face her … he just hated.
He felt, rather than heard her soft footsteps approaching him, and braced himself for what was to come. Her eyes were filled with sadness when she looked up at him, her fingers pressed against her mouth and her thumbs digging into her jaw line. There was no pity in her eyes, which came as an almighty relief, but other than that he couldn't read much from her all. Slowly she dragged her hands from her face, they fell to her side and she looked up at him steadily, her head tilted to one side.
"After everything that's happened between us, how on earth could you think this would change how I feel about you?"
Her words washed over his consciousness like a cold breeze. His heart rate accelerated almost dangerously, and that same, fragile hope he'd felt when she'd sent him that message burst through him once again. He opened his mouth but no sound came out; he had no idea what to say, what to feel, all he could do was stare at her in disbelief.
"I wish you hadn't suffered like this, I wish you hadn't. But you're a survivor Severus, I can see that, and you don't have anything to be ashamed of."
She took his left hand in hers and ran her other hand gently across his Dark mark, so innocently, just as she had so many times before. Her touch made him flinch, and she looked at him again with that expression of endless patience that made his heart stutter.
"Not one thing."
He dropped his head away from her, her words simultaneously hurting and healing a very old wound he'd long forgotten about, pain in his chest, and then her hands were cradling his face once more, she went on tip toes, pulled his face down towards hers and kissed his forehead. For a moment everything threatened to overwhelm him.
"How many times are you going to doubt me, Severus?"
He looked at her then, on the verge of an apology when he noticed the gentle expression on her face, her fond gleam of her eyes and the smile tipping her lips. There was no recrimination in her words.
One hand moved through the air towards his chest, her fingers reaching for the edge of the longest scar on his front and he pulled away from her instinctively, his heart pounding as adrenaline shot through him.
She stepped closer.
"I'll keep my hands off your back and chest I promise." She said gravely. "Can I hug you instead?"
Something violent stabbed at him.
"I-"
She put her hands on his shoulders, her touch sending a shudder through him, but waited in silence for him to answer.
"I-"
She was perhaps the first person to ever render him quite so speechless. There was a fear thrumming through him, but how, how could he deny her now?
He nodded and closed his eyes, his hands limp by his sides, his body tense and unyielding. She was holding him before he even had time to brace himself, the skin to skin contact, her tits against his chest making them both shudder, and he felt his arms go slowly around her… Then all at once lust shot through him once again, and he needed her with a physical intensity, he pulled her against him as tightly as he could, feeling goose-bumps on her back, and it was as if he was pulling her into his secret self, her heart pressed to an area of himself he'd spent years pretending didn't exist, and hating if he remembered. He knew she must feel scar tissue against her skin, but she didn't seem to care, and it didn't seem quite so important now anyway, it was hard to think at all, his erection was bordering on painful and nothing had ever felt so intimate in his life.
After what felt like a long time, locked in a tight embrace, Hermione pulled back only as far as was necessary to look into his face.
"I think it's very important that we have sex now." She said, a mischievous smirk on her face. "What do you think, Professor?"
His stomach flipped.
"I quite agree." He answered, his voice husky and breathless, but steady.
She grinned at him, and it one sure movement, pulled his trousers down to his ankles and he stepped unsteadily out of them. She guided him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed, then she was pushing him gently backwards, one leg either side of him, and they kissed, his erection pushing against her skin. They both knew it was only a matter of time before their kisses turned into something else, and the anticipation was making his skin crawl. Her warmth and soft skin and hot mouth drowned out his fears, insecurities and inadequacies. His hands stroked her back, her thighs, squeezed her arse, marvelling at how brave she made him, and every time one of her hardened nipples brushed against his skin, it felt like a hot scrapping of ice.
She made a sound close to a whimper when he bit her earlobe and another bullet of lust shot through him as he remembered that she wanted this too, she wanted him, despite everything she knew, everything she saw, she wanted him.
"I can't wait any longer." She moaned, pulling away from him, her bushy hair in disarray.
And then she was hovering over him, her hand grasped his shaft, and slowly, exquisitely, she lowered herself onto him, sweet and hot and tight and oh God she was so wet…
His hands gripped the bed sheets underneath him and he couldn't be sure which one of them had whimpered.
She clenched, and it sent such a strong pulse of pleasure over him he jolted upright, his head almost coming into contact with her breasts and she let out a husky little chuckle as he lay back down, her hands resting on his shoulders.
A part of him was dimly aware that this might be the only chance he'd have to experience this with her, and he wanted to memorise everything, every noise she made, the way she looked, felt, every expression that crossed her face, particularly the one where she appeared to be looking at a prize rather than at him.
But when she started to move all other things seemed to fade away. Her movements were confident and sure, the gentle rise and fall of her hips just as mesmerising as the way her tits bounced gently up and down.
It was impossible to keep track of time. It felt like hours later that his groin started to tingle and his balls started to tighten, but it could have been only a few minutes.
"Faster." He heard himself moan, distantly wondering how on earth she'd managed to reduce him to his, but then her rhythm increased and he matched it, and everything else was lost.
She shifted slightly and let out a mew of pleasure and he knew he'd hit the perfect spot. A few thrusts later and he could feel her start to pulse and tighten around him. Her body was flushed above him, her eyes shut, and soon she was tumbling over the edge with a cry of pleasure, her body shuddering around him, squeezing his cock, her hands gripping his shoulders and oh God it was ecstasy.
He had been sure he would cum when she did, but as she almost collapsed on top of him, her head resting on the base of his neck, he found no release, an irrational swell of fear shooting through him. Hermione lifted her head, shaking slightly and breathless, she kissed his forehead, and pulled on his hand still clenched on the bed sheet, silently encouraging him to flip her over onto her back.
They somehow managed the manoeuvre with him still buried inside her, hard and desperate and needy. She wrapped her legs around the base of his back, pulling him even further inside. He'd been bracing himself with his hands either side of her head, but she put her hands slightly above her head, and he instinctively put his own on top, pinning her. Her answering smile told him that this was what she wanted.
All at once a surge of control and calm swept over him, while simultaneously setting his blood on fire, and as he began to move, her legs and hips matching his every thrust, it wasn't long before he was panting, sweat shining on his chest, and the look she was giving him as he moved above her sent another swell of lust through him. Pressure was building, he was going higher and higher, getting closer and closer…
And then his orgasm ripped through him, taking everything away, and he watched almost outside of himself as he shuddered and convulsed, crying out, then collapsing on top of her. He was aware of her hands reaching up to stroke his back, but then falling back to her sides and all he could do was pant, listen to the blood pounding in his ears, and be silently grateful.
As he gradually came back to himself, he made to shift off of her, but she tightened her legs around him.
"Don't move." She whispered, and although he was concerned that he was crushing her, he couldn't deny such a simple request any more than he could deny how good it felt to be pressed against her, his nose in her hair, their fingers intertwined.
They lay tangled together in the aftermath for a very long time, Severus didn't know about Hermione, but he was dreading the inevitable call of reality.
"That was so amazing." Hermione said softly, turning her head to look at him.
A slow smile overtook his face then, with all his insecurities, it was nice to be complimented, particularly in that area.
"What happens to you now, Severus?"
He sighed. Reality was calling. He slowly eased himself off, and out of her, turning to lie on his back, and feeling a soft wave of pleasure when Hermione slipped her hand into his and shuffled closer to him.
"Will you stay at Malfoy Manor?"
With his free hand he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I'm going to be made Headmaster of Hogwarts." He told her hollowly.
She gasped.
"But that's … oh my God Severus that's awful. You'll have to go back? Stay in his rooms?"
"Obviously." He drawled, but his tone was because he was dreading his return to Hogwarts rather than any annoyance with her and they both knew it.
"The staff … the students … they'll … well they'll hate you. And you'll have to pretend to be … bad … all the time. Promise me you'll be careful?"
"Of course." He answered tiredly.
"What will Hogwarts be like?" She asked him, and he could hear the sorrow in her voice. He turned his head to look at her and she was watching him with empathy and sadness plastered across her face. He swallowed.
"It will not be pleasant. I am to have two fellow Death Eaters working there with me, I don't know how that will happen yet, but … any opposition to us will have to be met with … consequences." He closed his eyes. "I will have to be ruthless."
Going back to the school in such a way was something he was really dreading. There would be hatred in the faces of nearly all the students he encountered, and certainly all the staff. He may never have been particularly close with any of them, but he had known them for a very long time. There had been respect between them … and now…
"Hey."
He opened his eyes and Hermione had shuffled closer to him on the bed, turning on her side. She brought her free hand to his cheek, gently stroking both his skin and the light stubble on his face. He kissed her palm as an almighty surge of affection for her seized his chest.
"I'm sorry Severus."
"It is hardly your fault Hermione."
"When do you go back?"
He sighed again.
"I believe I'm due there in the next few weeks. The Dark Lord wishes me to begin planning the new curriculum as soon as I can, but officially I'll be going back a week before September 1st."
She was looking at him oddly.
"When you go in a few weeks, will you be alone there?"
He frowned at her.
"Yes."
"And how long will you stay there?"
"At least a couple of days I should imagine. Why?"
"Can I come and see you?"
His breathing hitched.
"That would be incredibly reckless and foolish." He answered harshly.
"Not necessarily." She countered, and she had that stubborn gleam in her eye that made him uneasy. "You could check the castle is secure and empty when you get there, send me a message when you're ready, lower the wards in the Headmaster's office, and I could Apparate straight there."
Hope flared in his chest again but he ruthlessly quashed it.
"The portraits-"
"Are bound to keep the secrets of the Headmaster. I've read Hogwarts: A History." She was smirking.
"And if the Dark Lord shows up for an impromptu visit?" He snapped, her face turned slowly serious again.
"Is he likely to?"
"No." He conceded after a pause. "But there is no guarantee."
"Is there ever?" She was smiling again, and he wanted her to come to Hogwarts very badly, but it was so risky and mad and … Gryffindor.
"Severus," she said softly, "You're going to be miserable in that castle, you should at least have one good night there before all hell breaks loose… And I will probably have … dealt with my parents by then… I'll want to see you."
It was her quiet admission that she'd want him after she modified her parents' memories that finally persuaded him. The thought made a fragile, long neglected part of his chest simmer with happiness.
"Very well."
"Thank you."
He kissed her palm once more, and the smile she gave him made his heart stutter.
"You said you are not returning to Hogwarts, and I cannot say that I am not relieved, but where are you going?"
A troubled look swept across her face.
"We were given a task by Dumbledore that will require … travelling. I don't really know what where we'll be going, but ... I'm sure we'll figure things out."
He could hear the unease in her voice and fear gripped his chest.
"Can you tell me?"
"I want to," she answered, "but I don't think I can."
He pinched the bridge of his nose again. Bloody Dumbledore.
"Will you at least be safe?"
She looked at him seriously.
"It'll be You-Know-Who's greatest enemy, a blood traitor and a mudblood on the road together. I don't think you can get much safer than that."
She chuckled, and he probably would have chuckled with her had she not used that terrible word.
"Don't ever, ever call yourself that."
Her eyes widened as she realised the significance the word had to him.
"Sorry," she said quietly, "but I suppose I've become somewhat desensitised to it. It's only a word."
"It's a terrible word that you should never have grown used to." He answered her gravely.
"Perhaps you're right."
"I am always right." He answered, and she grinned at him.
"Obviously." She drawled, and the impersonation of himself might have angered him if she hadn't been smiling warmly at him, naked, her hand on his cheek.
It was a sad moment when they had to get up and dressed, her stomach rumbling and his bladder calling. It was sadder still when he felt the faint prickle through his mark, warning him that he would be Summoned to the Dark Lord's side before the end of the day. It was a courtesy very few Death Eaters received. He made a hurried, but thorough search of Grimmauld Place, while Hermione disappeared to the shops, bringing back milk and sandwiches.
Reality could be such an inconvenience.
"I'll miss you." She whispered, as they stood together in the entrance hall.
"I'll miss you too," he answered honestly, his voice sounding stiff to his own ears, "very much."
"Keep in touch, let me know as soon as you can about when I can come to Hogwarts."
"I will."
He didn't want to leave her. Part of his brain was screaming at him to grab her, Apparate them both somewhere far, far away and forget about their lives here. But of course, neither of them would ever go through with such a plan. He sighed.
"Hermione … I'll never be able to … what you've done…" He paused and tried to gather his tangled thoughts. "Thank you."
And then she was kissing him. Passionately. Her hands gripped his hair, her tongue lavished his mouth, her body moulded into his… His hands were placed gently on her back, worried that if he allowed himself to hold her too tightly, he wouldn't be able to let go.
Breaking that kiss was agony.
Seeing the tears on her cheeks tore at his heart.
"Stay safe." He whispered against her lips, wiping away her tears with his thumbs, despairing as new ones appeared.
"You too." She whispered back, her voice choked, her hands griping the fabric on his shoulders. "I'll see you soon."
He could do nothing but nod as he stepped away from her, a prickling lump rising inexplicably in his throat.
He turned, walked out the door, and shut it behind himself while he still had the necessary will power.
All too soon he found himself back on the lane that lead to the Malfoys'. He took a couple of deep breaths, swallowed, then pushed his Occlumency shields up as rigidly as they would go. Severus walked back to his temporary residence cold and calm and unfeeling, his true self once again hidden deep behind his defences like a fugitive.
I'm so jealous of Hermione.
I think I need to give credit here to the amazing author Loten - before I read some of her amazing stories I'd never really considered how scarred Severus would have been - obviously it's a matter of opinion but the poor man has had one hell of a hard life.
I'll try and get another chapter up before Christmas but I can't promise - I'm staying with my parents over Christmas break and I'm working loads and I have so much revision to do for January. But I'll do my best :)
Thank you to everyone who reviews - it's so lovely to read your feedback and get your opinions.
Happy Holidays!
ElizabethLouise - hahaaa thank youuuu! Hope you liked this one too ;)
Guest - You're welcome, thank you for reading my story!
Rewera - Yay thank you! So glad you enjoyed it, it was so fun to write ;)
Eve - Haahaha *grins at keyboard like an idiot* Thank youuuu, so pleased you think it's a good one, and please don't sob, I'm waaay to attached to this story to abandon it any time soon :) Thanks or your review.
anon - Thank you :) I will, and I'll try to update again before Christmas :)