Disclaimer: This story occurs in the universe that JK Rowling created.
Thank you to all readers and reviewers! Delays in update related to illness. Also, much thanks for the editing and collaboration of Brownesugar!
Hermione came downstairs a little later and began to read to him. Sherlock Holmes mysteries had become a favorite. They were light and didn't take a lot of energy to digest. At the end of the chapter, she looked up and found him restless and uncharacteristically anxious.
Understanding dawned; he had eaten his first big meal. "Oh, my gosh. Can you make it up or-?"
"Shut up, and move me!"
She transported him right into the bathroom and even pulled down his pants before lowering him.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"Yes, get out."
She left him by himself, feeling his justified gruffness blended well with her guilt.
A few minutes later, he came out and headed for bed. She walked close in case he needed her assistance.
Hermione pulled his covers up saying, "Well, I'm just going to take some time out. I'll be in my room if you need anything."
She lay there on her bed biting her lip and thinking. She had felt so good and had had so much energy; it must have been the hormones. So many things were going to end.
"Granger?" His call faintly laced with leftover irritation.
"Yes?"
"Are you ready for bed?"
"Yes."
She went and got under the covers..
They were still for a moment. Then she started to move, and so did he. He was very gentle, which surprised her considering what had happened. He settled into a strong rhythm; she gushed. He wasn't quite as hungry, she could tell, but there was something else...
Severus felt somewhat hungry after everything had gone through him, but not as much as he had been. He took her breast in his hands and engulfed it with his lips; he wanted this … this. His mind went blank as he zoned, kneading the milk out with the back of his tongue and palate. He had come to love the way she exploded in his mouth, especially knowing he did that to her. He loved the slight moan that she always made. Over the last day or so, as he had become stronger, he had made sure he didn't lie too close to her because his pelvic reactions were inconsistent. Her slight moans always made him twitch at the very least. Mornings had been the worst; he would be sleepy, truly hungry, and as hard as a rock. He was getting so many mixed signals from his body; he had just come to accept the dissonance.
When he was through, he sensed her restlessness; so, he slipped one arm under her and guided her head to his chest. This is how sleep found them.
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In the early morning, they repeated that same sleepy feeding, after which they dozed.
Both were up for breakfast. Severus ate well again, but made sure he paced himself. Then he sat and read a while. Later in the morning, he took a short nap on the couch.
Hermione did some light housekeeping, but by noon, her back started to ache. She was getting full. She needed to push it; the mid day feeding had to end. She made an early lunch for him, and he ate on the couch. About four, he came to the kitchen for supper.
'He doesn't need you anymore. He's doing fine,' she thought. On the other hand, she felt like she could barely function. She was leaking and very uncomfortable. Hermione kept her back to him while doing the dishes so he wouldn't see.
"Granger, do you need-?"
She moved her head back and forth, hiding her face.
He could tell she was crying and said, "Let me help you."
"No, it's ok. You're doing great." She tried to sound bright and encouraging.
"Well you aren't … come here."
She stopped and waited a second, then wiped her hands and turned slowly. She came to him with her head down.
"Sit here on the table facing me." She did, and he moved his chair in close. He undid her shirt and her front clasped bra. Hermione was looking anywhere but at him. He grabbed her waist, brought her close and enveloped her, sucking down hard. She let out a moan, and there was that feeling again deep in her belly. She was sure their position was part of it.
The milk flowed like a river, and he tended both sides, trying to keep up. She was making sounds that she didn't normally make. He involuntarily intensified his sucking every time she moaned, making low slightly guttural tones himself. Then it was over. Hermione felt strange and embarrassed. He put his forehead on her chest for a minute, and then he methodically closed her bra and her shirt, pushing the chair back slightly.
"I need to sit here a minute. It's been a long day, and I want to at least see the inside of my lab." While he was talking, he was gently pushing her legs to one side so she could get up easier.
"Umm…ok. Let me know if you need anything."
"I will."
She left and went upstairs.
He watched the doorway for a while waiting for his erection to subside.
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That night they fell into their normal routine. Surprisingly, when they were in bed, their silent boundaries were in affect, and everything was much more 'in place'.
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Hermione's breasts weren't full at lunch the next day, which was both sad and also a relief; she didn't need him.
Snape spent much of the day in the lab, replacing the pain potion that they had used, only needing a quick nap after lunch.
He came up from the lab in the evening, drawn by the smell of her chicken dish with the pistachios, the one that she had made so many weeks ago. He moved to the sink and washed his hands, turning around as he dried them; his jaw dropped and all air escaped his lungs.
Before him stood Hermione, with her back to him, she was in her day dress; her feet and legs bare. The dress was loose and gauzy with buttons from top to bottom. Severus had liked the feel of it in the store, which is why he had bought it. The olive green color made her look warm and earthy. She faced the window, and the sun's setting rays streamed through her dress, showing her complete form in relief. He froze, holding his body in check. She was striking. His mind jumped to the night in front of the Dark Lord. He remembered her naked body, her hair, every part of her had been mesmerizing as it was now. At that moment he finally heard his inner voice, both past and present, cry, "Mine!"
She turned to look at him, smiling. Snape knew she had no idea how beautiful she looked. Suddenly the easy, sunny smile disappeared and her eyes lowered to the floor and she said, "Dinner is almost ready." As she passed him, he felt electricity jump back and forth between them.
At that moment, Hermione's only thought was disgust at herself, and her need. She hated that she was a burden, and she hated that her belly was aching and her groin was tight at the very sight of him. She hated that she could feel her breasts beginning to leak. 'I'm pitiful.'
While they ate, she tried to keep the conversation clinical, talking about different potion theorists she had read about recently. That strategy worked for a while. They easily fell into their old routine of arguing; but in the end, it worked against them both. The tension between them was present and undeniable.
With a jolt of energy, Hermione began to clear the dishes. Snape watched as she methodically cleaned everything up. As she came toward him and bent to wipe down the table, he could see by the way she carried herself she was uncomfortable. He wanted to relieve her, touch her...taste her.
Hermione was almost finished cleaning up; she liked doing things the muggle way, especially when her mind needed a distraction. She thought, 'I just have to wipe down the table and then I can go to my room.'
Suddenly, Snape took hold of her arm and said, "Come here." His eyes locked with hers as he moved her onto the table, into the position she had been in the night before. She was straddling him now, her feet on the chair where he sat. He began mumbling something and ran his finger from the top of her buttons to the bottom hem. Her dress suddenly fell open, and he began to slowly unhook her bra.
Hermione bit her lip. He was doing everything so excruciatingly slowly; she wanted to scream.
He took a hold of both breasts, and when he did, they both spontaneously shot milk out on either side of his head. She looked down at him surprised, but he wasn't looking at her face. Instead, with a smug look, he cupped her breast in his hands, and as if experimenting, ran his thumb slightly over the nipples; the milk shot out again. This time Hermione made a noise, pushing her chest towards him. He latched on hard to her in seconds, going from one to the other, sometimes even squirting the milk into his mouth.
Hermione was in an internal panic. 'What's happening? This isn't…the same,' her mind reeled. There was that feeling again deep in her belly, but even more explosive than yesterday. Her hands moved up of their own volition to his shoulders in spite of her internal protests. She was exploding in his mouth. He sucked down harder, and she cried out, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him towards her. She wanted something and involuntarily began moving herself around on the table. Something was building; she was contracting.
He was already to the end of the cream and switched sides, coming down hard again; he was close. Her milk gushed again. Her rocking spurred him on. He was again at the cream and sucking hard. Then she stiffened and cried out in an unmistakable primal scream, rocking furiously. He exploded too, hiding his face in her breast. He sucked gently as she began to settle down. Then, with one swift motion, she pulled her dress together and dashed out of the room.
He sat there stunned for a moment. What had he done? There was barely a scrap of plausible deniability left, except…he thought it was possible that she didn't know he had come too.
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She was so ashamed of her body, of her behavior. Why did she respond to him like that? 'But he grabbed me.' He seemed to want her and not just out of pity. She bowed her head blushing; she had climaxed right in front of him. He must have known it happened; he's not stupid.
She felt a sense of loss, it had been such a pure act in the beginning, true nutrition, life, but now it was sex. She was reminded again of her backwards life.
She read in her room, but, in spite of what happened, she didn't want to go to bed alone. Her breasts were fine, but she didn't know if she could be that close to him again.
"Are you ready for bed?" Severus casually called from the other room.
"I'm ok. I'll sleep in here."
"Oh. Um…good night then."
"Good night."
Hermione woke the next morning needing relief. She was pleased; she missed their purer closeness. She crawled into bed with him. He was still asleep, and so she drifted off and woke to find him nursing leisurely in a lost way. She reached over casually and pushed his hair back. He made a noise, a pleasant sweet noise, so she touched is face, and his eyes fluttered. This was lazy and easy, and she loved these mornings. This is how it had been. She drifted off before he was through.
After dinner, she excused herself before anything could happen, and cried in the bathroom as she manually relieved the pressure in each breast. She felt so useless. He didn't need her anymore. He had needed her completely for almost 2 weeks. Now everything was going to go back to the way it was. She would be the slave, his mudblood, not a willing friend, and nothing more, no matter what Voldemort thought. She cried herself to sleep in her room.
She woke up in the early morning leaking, so she went into his room. Still feeling shame, she lay down softly on the bed, tearing. 'Hormones,' she thought. He reached for her, and she was there. She wanted this so badly. It made her sad that this was probably the last time. She wasn't even as needy as the morning before.
He began almost as if he knew it was the last time, slowly licking, toying and then sucking in earnest, giving attention to both breasts at the same time. Then he did something strange. When he was through, he locked eyes with Hermione and without dropping his gaze, began to stroke her breasts with the flat of his hand, running gentle fingers over her stretch marks. Then with reverent gratitude, he slowly kissed and caressed each nipple.
Their eyes never parted and they lay there looking at each other for a long time. Then, without ceremony, Hermione got up, went to her room, closed the door, and stared at the wall. There were no more tears … she was dry.