Chapter 14

Hermione felt the weight of his arm as he slung it across her stomach, which was still rippling with the aftershocks of the orgasm he'd just driven her to. She was still surprised. The end of his penis had somehow touched her so deeply inside, bumping against a spot that when agitated, had pushed her nearer and nearer to climax with every thrust that he'd made. As she'd come, Snape had reached his peak too, and their joint orgasm had been so explosive, but so tender, that she'd felt quite transcendent for a while there – like she was drifting out of her own head.

Falling to her side and breathing deeply, he'd pushed her unruly hair from her sticky forehead, and kissed her cheek before putting his arm across her, drawing her close. She turned to face him, his eyes closed and a healthy pink colour to his pale skin. Hermione didn't want to sleep. She looked at the stern professor, gently sweeping a lock of black hair from his face and finding it sweaty and hot.

He opened one eye; and saw her gazing at him.

"You are not tired?" he asked.

"Yes, I am, but I don't want to sleep."

"That will be the energy of youth. I am exhausted, after that."

"You sleep, then. I'll just lay here, looking at you, thinking about kissing you."

His other eye opened, and he shot her a look that suggested he found her rather tiresome.

"Don't just think about it," he growled.

Hermione put an arm around his neck, and shuffled closer, finding his warm lips and initiating a kiss. His hand was on the curve of her lower back, and she felt him pull her close as he responded to her kiss, moving his lips in a lazy, exhausted fashion. It was incredibly intimate, both naked in bed, still heated from their lovemaking, snogging in a desultory way that required minimal effort from them both.

Snape's hand trailed up her spine, and she shivered.

"Cold?" he enquired, with an arched eyebrow.

"Not at all cold. Your touch made me shiver, that's all."

"In a good way?"

"In a very good way."

He lay on the pillow, facing her with a quizzical expression, long hair splayed around his head, looking raven-dark against the white cotton.

"You are a most unusual witch, Hermione Granger, to desire to be here, like this, with such a man as me."

She began to stroke down his arm, feeling the relaxed muscles under her searching fingertips, and seeing his white skin respond to her touch as small goosepimples visibly formed.

"I've never been particularly conventional."

"I am inordinately relieved to hear it. You have breathed life into this dusty old shell. My days in this castle are infinitely better knowing that we have … whatever it is that we have here."

"I don't think I could even begin to define or categorise what this is, Severus."

"Then let us not even try, Hermione. I am content, and you are content also?"

"I am."

"We shall leave this conversation here, then," he said, with finality, dipping his head to draw up her lips with his own, keen for more kissing, more touching.

"My mother used to say that conversation has no place in the bedroom, that the bed is for sleep or sex, nothing else," she said, after a prolonged period of snogging, not quite sure where that little snippet of information had suddenly sprung from.

"That is an interesting theory. I agree wholeheartedly with the sex and sleep aspect; however, I should have thought that some form of conversation between bedfellows would be necessary, even desirable?"

"She had some funny ideas, and was very open about sex and relationships, when talking to me."

"So I see. But, you used the past tense? Where is your mother now?"

Hermione felt her breath catch. She wasn't sure she was ready to share what she had done to her parents, particularly not in such an emotionally charged situation as this.

"I ensured they were in a place of safety from Voldemort, before Harry, Ron and I set off on our hunt for the Horcruxes. I believe that they would have been a target for attack, especially once it become clear what their daughter was doing. In addition, the parents of Muggle-born witches and wizards were being directly targeted."

The truth was spilling out, unbidden, and Hermione was surprised at her own candour. His dark eyes looked serious as he listened to her.

"The Dark Lord was never able to find your parents," Snape replied, quietly, "and it was not for the want of searching. Whatever you did was entirely effective."

"I moved them to another country, and Obliviated all memory of ever having a daughter from their minds."

Seeing his magically-experienced eyes widen in surprise did not make Hermione feel any better about what she had done. He jerked his head up from the pillow; and propped it on his upturned hand.

"I confess admiration at your use of such a charm, but surely you must realise that an Obliviation is permanent?"

"I know that. It was the best solution I could think of, at the time, and under pressure. I hoped that maybe, one day in the future, that a counter-spell could be found …"

Snape was shaking his head.

"Not by the most powerful sorcerer in the world," he confirmed. "I am sorry, Hermione."

She lay back on the neighbouring pillow, gazing at the canopy above, feeling hot tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

"I shall leave you for a few minutes," he told her, not pushing her to talk further, but hopping neatly out of bed and heading for the living room, creaking the door shut behind him.

Professor Snape, a supremely powerful wizard, had just confirmed her greatest fear – that there really was no way to reverse the strong memory charm that Hermione had cast upon her parents. At the back of her mind, there had always been the smallest hope … but no.

She allowed the tears to fall.

-xxx-

Pushing open the door to the living room, after a while, Hermione saw that Snape was seated on his sofa, still fully naked, smoking a cigarette and with the fire burning high to keep himself warm. She walked over to him, and he looked up at her, his eyes roving from her face to her naked body with a small smile of approval.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked.

"I shan't be if you come and sit with me," he replied, indicating his lap and taking a deep, slow drag of his cigarette.

He was so dangerous, and yet so comforting at the same time. The dichotomy was what drew her to him, like a moth to a flame. Snape watched her intently as she stepped forwards and knelt next to him, straddling his legs and seating herself carefully on his lap, feeling his flaccid penis beneath her.

"That's better," he told her, taking another pull and blowing the smoke away from her, towards the fire. "I feel much warmer now."

Hermione slid her hands behind his neck and under his hair, dropping her head and kissing him, enjoying the sweet smell of the smoke on his breath, and the taste of tobacco on his tongue as he pressed it into her mouth, slowly coiling it around her own in a devastating spiral. As she murmured her approval into his mouth, he pulled back, drawing again on his cigarette, and holding the smoke in his lungs as he flicked the spent butt into the fire.

Exhaling, he took hold of her bum cheeks and began to lift her up, and as she knelt, Hermione felt his erection growing beneath her.

"Can I tempt you?" he enquired, a slight smile crooking just one corner of his mouth.

Could he tempt her? What a stupid question.

She knelt up high, so that her breasts were level with his mouth, and he took hold of one in each hand, fondling and squeezing them, guiding the nipples towards him so that he could flicker his sharp tongue across each of them. Hermione let her head fall back, feeling her mass of curls tumble down her spine, and her hips began to circle of their own accord, as if they knew what to do, better than she did.

"Fuck, girl, give a wizard some time," Snape muttered, as she writhed in his lap, but it appeared that these were empty words, as he dropped his hands between her legs, and awkwardly, but with eventual success, guided his penis to her opening and folded the swollen head inside her.

Now it was her turn. Hermione slid down his shaft in a similar way to the previous evening, when they'd done it against the wall in the alcove, until she felt him at full hilt within her. His eyes were closed, and he was making a rumbling sound that she presumed was pleasure.

"What now?" she asked, helplessly.

He opened his eyes, and the black pools were full of mischief. Hermione decided she loved that look, on the spot.

"I don't fucking know, do I?" he replied, chuckling darkly. "Let us improvise, since our bodies seem to know their way better than we do."

Snape took hold of her hips; and began moving them in a rolling motion that she soon began to copy, circling her hips and sort of moving them back and forth at the same time.

"Does that work?" she gasped, for the depth of his penetration was making her a little short of breath, and the pressure was incredible.

"Does that work, she asks. Of course it bloody works, Granger. It is damn-near excellent and I implore you not to stop."

Gaining in confidence, Hermione rose up on her knees, feeling his penis slide out a small way, and then lowered herself down on it again, enjoying the look of slack-jawed surprise on the professor's face. She did it again, and once more, each time a little faster, building up a rhythm and feeling him begin to thrust upwards, underneath her.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, clutching hard at her hips and buttocks, grinding her against him, faster and faster. "I'm almost fucking there, already."

She wanted to make him come, all by herself. She wanted to see this powerful wizard fall to pieces below her, to surrender all control to her. Hadn't he said the very same thing to her, that first time he'd accosted her in the corridor?

You want to control, and to be controlled in return.

He'd known it, even then. Known her even better than she did herself.

"I want you to come for me, Severus," she told him, in a quiet, but commanding, voice.

His eyes widened in sheer surprise at her words, but she continued to writhe against him, her hips moving like lightning, forcing his orgasm closer. She was fucking him, and even the thought of the word, sounded delicious. Snape's hands tightened around her waist, keeping her pressed down, allowing her to rut in his lap like a horny animal, wriggling like mad.

"Fuck!" he shouted, throwing his head back and clenching his teeth brutally with the effort of chasing his climax. "You will get it all, witch."

He let go with a cry of blessed relief, and a shout that sounded like a battle cry as he held her stock-still as his cock spurted his orgasm inside her, three, and then four times.

"You wanted me to come," he grimaced, his mind clearly somewhere else in bliss. "I came for you, my Hermione. I gave it all to you."

Hermione leaned forwards and started a wet, messy kiss, an open-mouthed snog that stretched their jaws to the limit as they attempted to devour one another.

-xxx-

Granger was snogging him as if their lives depended on it. His cock was still pulsing inside her, having shot his load for the second time in less than an hour. He was too fucking old for this, and yet it appeared as if he'd managed rather well indeed. She had just royally fucked him on his own sofa, and if he'd needed a cigarette before, he needed about five, now.

Holy fucking shitballs.

He was now well and truly done for, with not one bit of energy left in his body.

Well, that last bit was a lie, for he was returning her kiss as enthusiastically as she was kissing him. Before the afterglow deserted him, Severus got to his feet, holding the naked girl up by her bottom, his cock still inside her, and enjoyed her squeak of surprise.

"How can you do that?"

"Superior strength," he replied, arrogantly, having little energy for a more articulate answer, and carried her through to the bedchamber, by which time his exhausted dick had slipped out of her. "Can we actually sleep now? I am a very old wizard, and I fear you may kill me."

"Bathroom first, then sleep," she replied, smiling at him, stealing another kiss and appearing to be not the least bit chastened by his words.

Severus allowed her to use the toilet first, for clearly, she would need to clean up a bit, and he heard the taps running, which confirmed this, although he was absolutely fucking bursting for a piss, himself.

When he returned from pissing out of the most swollen and uncooperative dick he'd ever encountered, Granger was already in his bed, all the covers now over her, wrapped in a kind of insane nest that he urgently wanted to join her in.

"I owe you an orgasm, little witch," he mumbled, as he crept in beside her, and was gratified to feel her youthful, naked body wind itself around his.

He could feel every part of her, from her feet intertwined with his, to her soft, full breasts pressing against his flanks as she rested on his chest and shoulder. How the fuck did he get so lucky, to have this girl in his bed? It was entirely unfathomable, not that he was complaining.

"Who's keeping score?" she replied, her voice already sounding sleepy.

Granger had one hand resting flat on his chest, directly over his heart, which ached with longing not only at her words, but at her very presence, pressed tightly against his side.

My Hermione, he had called her, in the throes of passion.

He hoped she hadn't noticed, even though the memory of those two words were fast imprinting themselves upon his brain.

-xxx-

Morning arrived, and it was not the grey light of early dawn that Severus was accustomed to waking at; for his dreams, or more correctly, his nightmares, did not allow him restful sleep for long. Instead, on this day, it was the golden light of mid-morning that woke him, for it seemed they had both slumbered peacefully through the weekend breakfast bell.

The girl's naked back was against his chest, her arse pressed into his morning wood (how he could have an erection after the night of sexual activity they'd engaged in, Severus had no idea, but, there it was) although her abundant hair was threatening to choke the life from him.

Tucking the curls between his cheek and the pillow, he allowed his hand to explore what lay directly beneath it, finding a warm, full pair of tits just urging him to fondle them, and he did so, feeling no guilt as he gently squeezed them, thumbing her nipples and planting kisses on her exposed neck.

She made a sound of awakening, and he continued, grinding his cock against her bum to leave her in no doubt of his intentions for her. His attack on her neck became wetter and harder, and Severus heard himself making soft groans into her skin as he did so.

"Good morning," she murmured, putting her arm behind her head to draw him closer, which had the dual benefit of confirming his attentions were welcomed, and gave him greater space to continue playing with her enticing breasts.

"I apologise for the intrusion," he replied, gruffly, his lips still against her neck, "but you were entirely too tempting, naked in my bed."

Severus slid his hand down her flank and lifted her leg at the knee, curling it back across his own thigh; the movement opening up her pussy and he wasted no time in dipping between her spread labia. He enjoyed her little cry of surprise, and the small mewling noise that she started to make as he began to circle two fingers around her clitoris, wanting to arouse her, wanting her to feel as fucking horny as he did.

He was not to be disappointed. Sinking his middle finger deep inside her, he could feel her juices beginning to flow already, and he drew some out to spread around her cunt, making her wet and sticky, and he rolled her hardening clit in her own fluid.

"Fucking hell, girl," he growled, close to her ear. "You are a fucking little Siren and no mistake. You should come with a health warning."

"Oh, I will come, Sir," she shot back, cheekily, panting slightly as his fingers toyed with her. "Not necessarily with a warning, though."

Severus couldn't help smiling, into her hair.

"You'd still call me Sir, even in this position?"

"Sometimes it adds to the thrill," she admitted. "Don't you think?"

"I thrill you?"

"Every time. Sir."

"Fucking hell, Granger," he exclaimed, removing his hand from her between her legs, for he had just been struck with an idea, and his cock liked it, very much. "Turn over for me; and get on your knees. I need your arse in the air and your head over the pillow."

She had controlled him, last night, and he had enjoyed complying with her firm instructions. Now it was his turn. He'd seen this position, many a time, not always a pleasant experience, particularly at a Revel, but he wanted to try it. She knelt up, and he stroked her back and bottom as she edged herself into position. Granger was a clever girl, and not a total innocent, she knew what he wanted her to do.

Once she was on all fours in front of him, he positioned himself between her legs, spreading her arse cheeks with both hands, using his fingers to splay her labia open so that he could lean forwards and stick his tongue into her juicy cunt, fixing his mouth on her as if he was snogging her pussy, flickering his sharp tongue over her clit, and around her holes.

She let loose with a cry that sounded like shock, mingled with delight, and some rather uncharacteristic swearing, and he smirked against her, not letting up on his assault. He wanted her to come, hard, right in his face, and if she screamed and swore at the same time, so much the better. He wanted her helpless, desperate only for the pleasure-giving swipes of his tongue.

Severus' mouth was moving on her in a frenzied attack, his tongue poking deep inside her hole, titillating her urethral opening (which produced a scream of such volume that he mentally filed that for future reference) and sucked her clitoris hard into his mouth, plying it between his lips and aggravating the needy little bud fast across his head, with his tongue.

Struggling to hold onto her slick labia, for she was so fucking wet, her entire cunt soaked with his rapacious saliva and her own juices; a long, drawn-out moan from the top of the bed advised him that she must be on the absolute cusp of her orgasm.

That's it, you little peach, he thought. Flood my face with everything you have, because fucking Merlin knows, I want it all.

Granger did not disappoint, rutting her hips furiously as she reached her climax, writhing away from his mouth and giving him time to get to his knees, swiping his hand roughly across his face to wipe off some of the wetness before grasping her waist and shoving his cock into her pulsing hole, yet again eliciting a scream of pleasured shock.

"Fuck, Severus!" she squealed, her voice ragged.

He loved it when this prissy little student swore like a trooper.

"That was the idea," he retorted, up on his knees and shagging her brutally hard, for he was more than ready to come, for lashing her sweet cunt with his tongue had been a turn-on of epic proportions.

Using his tight hold on her waist to pull her rump backwards as he was ramming into her, it was almost all over, bar the shouting. Kneeling up high, looking down on her shapely back, with her light brown curls bouncing all over her spine with every thrust, her peachy arse like a blur as he pounded into her, Severus felt like the king of the fucking castle. When he'd agreed to return to Hogwarts, he could never have predicted he'd be in this situation a few short weeks later.

Holy fucking shit.

Thundering home, the spunk spilled from his cock in hot bursts, coating her already-soaked insides. He shouted; long and loud, with each sharp thrust that emptied his load deep inside her, bit by bit.

As he slowed his movements, Severus was brought down to earth a little bit, for they'd had sex three times and not cleared up after any of them, and whilst he'd be happy to smell of her pussy forever, he doubted that Granger would feel the same.

Withdrawing from her, the wet bedsheets not escaping his notice, he rolled neatly off the bed, bringing her with him, so that she ended up held safely in his arms, and he squired her through to the bathroom, into the shower, where he stood her up and set the water to run. There was a brief moment where the heat took a while to come through, and they both jumped from a cold splash, but it was soon running hot and Severus guided her beneath the spray, and the young witch drew him into it with her, wrapping her arms around his neck as the water pounded on top of them.

"Thank you," she whispered, raking his wet hair behind his ear so that she could speak into it.

She was thanking him?

"What on earth for, girl?"

"For making me feel alive," Granger replied, nipping his earlobe.

"I can assure you, Hermione, that the feeling is entirely mutual," he reassured her, trailing his hands down her back.

A beautiful smile spread across her face, as she stood in the water spray, her long hair running in soaked rivulets down her naked shoulders.

How long could this last? What on earth were they even doing?

Right at that moment, Severus didn't care, even when she reached for the shampoo bottle with a threatening gleam of intent, in her eye.

-xxx-

They were seated at the small table next to Snape's bookshelves, eating a lunch that had been ordered by Floo and delivered by a small, proud-looking house-elf. Hermione had plaited her damp hair over one shoulder; and redressed herself in her jeans and t-shirt from the previous evening. Her professor was wearing nothing but a black silk dressing gown, tied at the waist, and falling open so that she could clearly see the thin layer of dark hair that adorned his pale chest.

It really was rather distracting when she was trying to eat, because she was actually bloody starving, but Snape looked even more appetising than the delicious lunch that was laid out before them. She had washed his hair to within an inch of its life, focusing on the areas where the grease had been allowed to build up, and as a result it was now a glossy black that sat neatly on his shoulders, rather than hang there, lank and lifeless. She wanted to grasp handfuls of it, whilst snogging his face off.

Behave yourself, she chided, inwardly, attempting to focus on the thick, chunky vegetable soup and doorstep slices of fresh bread, spread with Hogwarts own butter.

There was a rather awkward atmosphere across the table, probably since they were doing something so mundane as eating lunch together. Every other encounter, outside of lesson time, had been highly sexual, intense and desperate. Was there anything more between them than just blisteringly hot sex?

Hermione supposed it didn't matter, really, since they hadn't exactly entered a committed relationship or any such nonsense.

But yet, it felt more. It felt, on some level, that there was emotion between them, but Hermione suspected she would have to work hard to find it, in someone so notoriously private and closed-off as Severus Snape.

"Are you going to watch the Quidditch later?" she asked, embarrassed at the banality of her question, but at least it was a start, and much better than sitting there in silence.

Gryffindor were playing Slytherin that afternoon, always the first match of the season, and always a hard-fought contest, full of ancient old rivalries that Hermione suspected the war had done little to dispel. Snape looked up at her, chewing and swallowing his mouthful thoughtfully before answering. She noticed that he ate very slowly; and was eating much less than her. No wonder he was so slim. A man of his height really needed to carry more weight on his frame.

"As Head of Slytherin house, I am duty-bound to be there," he advised, "although I do like to attend all the Quidditch fixtures, whether or not my house are playing, for I am a great lover of the sport."

"You like Quidditch?"

"I do."

"Did you play?"

"I did, in school. I was a Chaser, although my general unpopularity prevented me from being selected for the Slytherin house team."

He made this remark so matter-of-factly that Hermione felt rather sorry for him, and he raised an eyebrow at her silence.

"Do not pity me, Hermione. You know nothing of my past."

"I'd like to know, if you'd like to tell me? I'd like to get to know you … Severus."

Snape took a sip of water and appeared to consider her request.

"Perhaps. I am unaccustomed to allowing anyone close to me, and you are, after all, my student. I would be unadvised to take you too deeply into my confidence."

Slightly perturbed by his answer, Hermione opted not to push the matter further, for now. What they were doing together was so far out of the realm of acceptable behaviour, that she couldn't really expect anything of him, as much as she might have liked it.

"I'll leave here after lunch, then," she replied. "I'll probably head down to the pitch with Neville, as I'd like to watch Ginny play."

"Miss Weasley is the new Gryffindor captain, this season?"

"She is, indeed."

He smirked.

"Her team has no chance against mine."

"Is that a threat?" Hermione challenged.

"Merely a fact."

"Ten Galleons says Gryffindor win."

"You are attempting to make a wager with me, you impertinent little witch?"

"Yes."

Snape leant back in his chair, clearly finished with his lunch, and the dressing gown opened a little further at the top, drawing her eye downwards. He did not miss her falling gaze.

"If we are gambling, then let us set the stakes a little higher, Miss Granger."

"Go on."

"If Slytherin are victorious, you return to my chamber tonight, and agree to partake in a sexual act of my choosing. In the … unlikely event that Gryffindor win, the choice will be yours."

Gods, he was so fucking desirable, and he had no bloody idea of it. Whatever he had in his mind that he wanted to do, whatever sexual act, she already wanted to do it with him, and her blood whooshed in her ears with excitement. Hermione stuck out her hand to shake his, in agreement, an oddly formal gesture after everything that had passed between them.

"I shall enjoy imagining the pleasure I will take from you, as I watch Slytherin fly to victory, this afternoon," he drawled.

"Don't count your Ashwinder eggs before they are hatched. Ginny has put a great team together."

"You misunderstand me, Hermione. I shall be content whether I win or lose. Either way, I secure your company for another evening."

He quirked an eyebrow; and placed his folded napkin on the table. Hermione suddenly remembered something – oh, crap.

"I'll be quite late, I'm afraid. A whole group of us are in detention with Professor Briner, this evening."

"A group?"

"Yes. Myself, Ginny Weasley, Malfoy, and the Greengrass sisters."

"Three Slytherins in detention? I was not aware of this. I shall speak to Richard, in the staff room, later on. What happened for him to place such a disparate group of students in detention?"

Hermione gulped, wondering how best to phrase her concerns.

"If it's not a conflict of interest, I would like to tell you?"

He nodded, rising from the table.

"If you have finished, let us be seated on the sofa whilst we talk. I would suggest retiring to the bedroom for comfort, but apparently this is frowned upon by your mother."

His eyes glittered to show he was joking, and Hermione found that she appreciated the easy mention of her mother, showing that he had not forgotten, that he did not find it awkward to discuss.

Hermione settled herself, cross-legged on the sofa, whilst Snape sat beside her, lighting a post-lunch cigarette and drawing deeply on it as he waited for her to begin speaking.

"There are a number of us who find Professor Briner rather sleazy," she began. "By that I mean, that we think he may have designs of some of the female students. There is a very uncomfortable atmosphere in his classes, not helped by Draco Malfoy's running commentary, which is rather indiscreet, I must tell you."

"It will interest you to know that Richard Briner believes yourself and Draco to be quite the couple."

"He does?"

She made a nauseated face as Snape nodded in confirmation.

"Obviously, you are aware that I am not seeing Malfoy?"

"One would hope," he replied, drily, taking another drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke through his nose in long, unbroken tendrils.

"Draco thinks that Briner will make his move soon. From what happened yesterday, it seems that he intends to pursue Hannah Abbott, and possibly Astoria Greengrass too, although after Astoria shouted him down, calling him dreadful names, I suspect he will desist with her, now."

"The younger Miss Greengrass has always possessed a rather outspoken disposition, that has been evident during in-house disputes."

"She certainly seemed fiery."

"Quite so. Now, for what reason has Briner detained you all, this evening?"

"For standing up in class and telling him that he had no right to make comments about our personal relationships. I mean, we were quite rude, so I suppose he's justified in assigning detention, but, I still believe that his actions and comments were wrong. I was the first one to speak up and complain."

"That, Miss Granger, I do not doubt."

"Hannah Abbott is now seeing Neville Longbottom, and it is a good match. She was quite upset when Professor Briner told her off for not staying behind with him after class, and even more so when he dismissed her, and requested that Susan Bones remain behind instead. And, I have to tell you, I think that if the professor were to try something with Susan, she would probably let him."

Snape took another two lungfuls of smoke before answering her.

"And this is where we reach a grey area, Hermione, for we would now be in the realm of consensual adult relations, which would be our only defence, should we ourselves be discovered. From what you are saying, should I gather than Miss Bones holds a candle for Briner?"

She nodded.

"Then should something happen between them, she is well of age, like yourself, despite the inequality in their respective positions. The problems are going to arise if Briner attempts to engage those who are not interested in him, such as Miss Abbott, or those who are underage, like the younger Miss Greengrass."

"Should I report him to Professor McGonagall?"

"I don't think so. Not yet. Not when nothing has actually happened, since no offence has yet been committed. I shall keep an extremely close eye on the man, and listen carefully to what he says at table, and in the staff room. I trust you will continue to report your concerns to me?"

"Of course I will."

"Good girl."

He finished smoking his cigarette; and flicked the remains into the fire.

"Before I go, can we sit here for a short while? You know, just … together?"

Snape looked confused; but nodded nonetheless. Hermione guided him to turn and face her, encouraging him to lift his feet and rest them on the sofa, while she wriggled herself between his legs, laying her head on his chest and entwining her bare feet with his. He held himself tense underneath her, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do, but Hermione continued to snuggle against him, breathing slowly and deeply, as if by doing so she would enable him to follow suit.

With a sigh, she felt a ripple of magic, followed by a voluminous blanket drape itself atop them, covering Snape's bare legs and up to her waist. He then wrapped his arms around her; and dropped a kiss to the top of her head, which was tucked almost under his chin.

It was their first cuddle, and it was rather lovely. Quidditch and detention were not due for a while yet, they had enough time to simply be together, physically close but not in a sexual way. Hermione had a strong suspicion that the dark, withdrawn professor also needed this kind of contact.

In addition, it was the longest conversation they'd ever had.