Chapter 23 - Intimate Moments
Whether some minutes or several hours had passed, Hermione did not know. Neither did she know when or how her hands had started fumbling on the many buttons on his clothes. Her impatience and persistence were rewarded, however, when she felt the skin of his naked chest under her fingers. But before she could start exploring, his hands grabbed her wrists so tightly that she gasped in pain.
Severus retreated a little and stared at her. He was breathing hard and fast, and his usually impenetrable gaze held an unusual gleam, but he still held Hermione's wrists in a tight grip.
It seemed as if he wanted to ask her something, but whatever it was, he could obviously read the answer on her face. Hermione felt his grip on her wrists loosen and seized the opportunity to put her hands back on his chest.
His skin felt surprisingly smooth under her fingers, and she realised that she was holding her breath while she observed how her fingertips drew slow patterns on his chest.
It's amazing how contradictory feelings can be, she thought. Instead of repulsion at the sight of the many faded scars on his skin, she felt an irresistible urge to touch them. Instead of considering his very pale complexion as unattractive, she thought that nothing else would have suited him.
She vaguely remembered that she had considered his face quite ugly back in school, but now she realised that the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaws added to some very special kind of attractiveness.
Hermione pushed the cloak off his shoulders and opened the remaining buttons of his frock coat. She had seen his bare torso before, but this time she actually realised that the many layers of clothing he usually wore were hiding a truly handsome body. Maybe "handsome" or "beautiful" in a classical sense was not the term she would have used under normal circumstances, but in the here and now, his flat stomach and the firm flesh under her hands were just that: beautiful.
Their lips met for another kiss that started very slow and tentative. Everything was just too new and strange, it felt much too unreal. Severus' hands in her hair were new, but strangely familiar – probably because she had imagined his hands so many times that she would have been able to draw his slender fingers with her eyes closed. In the past, she had only seen his dextrous hands in a rather innocent context with potions, but suddenly, she realised that she could imagine very different things involving his hands – none of which could be considered innocent.
As if he had read her mind, he started caressing her shoulders. Very slowly, as if he'd expect her to push him away any moment.
Later on, when her normal, rational thinking reactivated, she would probably ask herself what the hell she was doing. But right now, her body played a game of its own and made her encourage Severus shamelessly.
She felt as if his hands were everywhere on her skin. Her cautious motions that had been so tentative and carefully considered just some seconds ago became feverish and rushed.
All of a sudden, she found herself in a horizontal position with Severus right next to her. He kissed her and ran his hands under her jumper, making her gasp enthusiastically.
Like in a haze, she realized that the sofa that had been quite narrow at first had been enlarged without her even noticing. She was far from protesting and wrapped her arms around him.
His body's pressure on hers was almost too much, and when his lips touched the sensitive skin on her throat, she gasped again sharply. He continued his game... and stopped abruptly when Hermione opened her legs, wedging his lower body in between her thighs.
In an instinctive reaction, he pushed his pelvis down hard, and she answered by lifting her hips.
From this moment on, Hermione's powers of reason left her entirely and her desire had the upper hand over the last tiny bits of doubt.
They both groped and pulled at each other's clothes until all barriers had vanished.
Every one of Severus's touches was too much and yet not enough. Hermione was flooded with a deluge of complicated thoughts and feelings while she writhed beneath him and showed him what she wanted. He followed her silent pleas without hesitation.
They both moved rather clumsily and their union did not take long, but even minutes afterwards, the blood kept rushing in Hermione's ears, and she realised that she was still uttering small, sated sounds.
oOoOoOoOo
She could feel his heart beating quickly and steadily beneath her chest, and when her hands caressed his back, he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
It was one of these strange moments that make people somewhat afraid of their own actions, although they won't stop because it feels grand – unreal, irritating and magical, all at once.
Hermione tried to make up words to describe her complicated feelings, but for some reason she preferred the silence of the house that was only disturbed by the sound of their breathing.
They lay on the sofa and did not move. But the silence did not last long, and soon the dance started all over again.
Boldly, Hermione took her time to explore his body this time. She found out that he was more afraid of letting her touch his Dark Mark than the most intimate parts of his body.
She loved the sensation of her hands on his body... His flesh felt like silk-covered metal. She also loved the way he let her touch him – and touched her in return – with more self-confidence than before.
She knew that he wanted to prove to himself and to her that he could do much better than the quick, uncoordinated collision of bodies they had experienced the first time. She wanted to tell him that she liked what he did to her and that she didn't want him to stop – but her mouth could only utter inarticulate sounds.
His eyes were shut, and his facial expression was one of previously unknown softness... and when he opened his eyes to meet hers, something strange happened:
The feelings and thoughts in Hermione's head were not her own any more. She did not know whether he consciously allowed her to enter his thoughts or whether he had lost control. Nevertheless, she dived into his mind and got carried away by the many different sensations that flooded her.
She saw pictures of herself in such quick succession they made her dizzy. In between these snapshots, there were feelings that floated on a diffuse borderline between desire and doubt.
She felt what he felt: There was disbelief that someone like she preferred his company while she had the opportunity to be with people who were younger, more handsome and popular than him.
There was confusion about the fact that he wanted her: HOW had that happened? WHEN had that happened?
Was it the moment he realised that she had turned into a woman? Oh, he had eyes, of course. Or was it the moment when he saw her cut her unruly hair without hesitation and throw it in the cauldron?
Or was it today – the evening he felt the softness of her skin and breathed the scent of her hair for the first time?
When was the last time a woman had touched his face and looked at him as if he wasn't repulsive but... interesting, maybe even attractive?
When was the last time he had heard the small, satisfied moans of a woman while he touched her?
She was young, beautiful and brilliant... in every regard... and her determination to get what she wanted was very obvious... Who was he to deny her?
The connection broke as soon as it had been established and made Hermione gasp dazedly.
Her hands caressed his sweat-covered back while their bodies moved in complete harmony, as if an invisible composer was conducting music only they could hear.
Severus murmured something in her ear, and she thought she heard, You are so beautiful. These words, spoken in his trademark rough, deep voice, pushed her into sensual overload and made her shake violently while her nails dug into his back.
She had always enjoyed having sex, in a satisfactory, controlled manner, but this was the first time she experienced how it felt to be a passionate woman who acts upon her basic instincts and primal needs.
Her subconscious mind had been in denial about her true wishes for too long. Suddenly, she thought of something she had already realised years earlier when they had learnt the whole truth about Severus.
A person capable of such passionate hate must be able to love just as passionately... and he did... albeit just physically.
Suddenly, she rolled them over to be on top. He allowed it and let her take control. His hands caressed her hips and her breasts, and she liked the hungry expression in his eyes, the undisguised adoration in his gaze.
In this moment, Hermione forgot everything except the wonderful pushing and pulling movement of their bodies, which met and separated over and over again... She even forgot herself, just to come back again the next moment. It was heaven and hell combined, and she never ever wanted to leave again.