AN: I'd just like to say WHOOOO my computers back!
Oh, and thank you for your patience... and your reviews. Here is an extra long chapter... see, good things come to those who wait :)
Disclaimer: Believe me, if I was JKR I wouldn't be typing on this ancient beat up laptop...
Warning: This chapter is not suitable for younger or immature readers, this whole fic was rated M for a reason... if you know you shouldn't really be reading this, I give you one final chance to turn away. Please respect the rating system.
Chapter Six
Severus paced his old office, hating the changes that had been wrought in his absence. The slight lightening of the once deep emerald carpet, the addition of serpentine engravings on the candle sconces, the ugly metal filing cabinet that stood in the corner. Even his beautiful dark wood, heavily varnished desk didn't seem to hold it's old splendour now that a black plastic desk tidy stood upon it. With a sigh he pulled his mind back into order. He needed a plan, and he needed one now.
He just couldn't fathom how he had come to be here. How could he possibly have been so inconceivably stupid? He who for so many years had survived almost entirely on his own intelligence and cunning. He was utterly disgusted with himself. Emitting a low growl, Severus slammed his fist into the wall. It gained him nothing.
Think, Severus, Think. He told himself. This was not hard. This could not be hard. After all, how many times had he been an inch from death at the point of the Dark Lords wand – or more accurately at the point of a wand belonging to a specially chosen minion of the Dark lord – only to find, at the last possible second an ingenious reprieve that would allow him to crawl forward once more/ too many to name. Surely this pressure to escape could not be worse than having his life at stake. But of course, his life was at stake. Oh perhaps not quite as devastatingly literally as all those many times before, but if he went ahead with this, if he could find no last minute exit strategy, his life as he knew it was surely at an end. Severus Snape, a married man? In was as inconceivable to him as that he might cut off his own wand hand. Severus Tobias Snape, Husband of Hermione Jean Granger, no, she would be Hermione Jean Snape, wouldn't she? It was simply not right. There had to be another way.
Another low growl, his fist clenched, arm raised; a knock at the door. Who dared interrupt him, now, in his last moments of free thought before he must act to save himself? "enter." He barked, The spy in him smoothed all expression from his face, lowered his hand, forced his entire body to relax in a casual position leaning against the edge of the desk. The ministry official entered the room, along with Minerva McGonagall and Hermione, his soon to be prison warden. She looked as terrified as he was sure he would feel had he not trained himself long ago to be immune to fear.
"Mr Snape," the ministry official, Winsdale, Minerva had called him, smiled at him. To the rest of the world it was reassurance, to him it was the leer of the executioner to the condemned, "perhaps you would like to sit beside your bride? We have a few formalities that you need to be made aware of." As if on autopilot he sank into the chair the man gestured. Hermione, he noticed, could not meet his eyes as his glare raked over her.
The spy whispered, be still, listen, gather your information, the better to bring down your enemies, you mist play your part and play it well. He knew these words, how many times had he repeated them over in his own mind. He would obey, it was his only chance. "Good." Winsdale took the chair behind the desk as naturally as if he had always held it. This, more than anything else, displeased Severus, this mock respect that the ministry felt it had the right to. "Now, as I'm sure you are aware, you are to be married at three o'clock this afternoon. Before that happy event can occur, the ministry requires me to ensure that you fully understand the terms of your marriage under wizarding law.
"The first thing you must understand is that this marriage is a binding contract which, once made, cannot be unmade except in certain, ministry granted circumstance. I am certain, however, that this is not a decision you both took lightly. Once the ceremony has been completed you will have until midnight to finalise the bond." He smiled warmly at them once again. Severus gave no clue that he was listening except for his unfaltering gaze, Hermione took a quick glance sideways and then returned her gaze to her hands, he fingers which knotted and unknotted themselves repeatedly. Perhaps it was not too much to hope that at the final hurdle her Gryffindor courage would fail her. Perhaps she would, after all this, be too cowardly to fulfil her own plots and plans. Severus waited.
"Next you must be given to understand that, under the new ministry law, you are expected to produce at least one pregnancy within the first year of your marriage, and at least one child within the first two. Should no pregnancy be forthcoming within your first year, or should you fail to produce a live child within your first two years, you will be placed under marital aid. That is to say that you will be required to submit to regular meetings with both health professionals and marital councillors and any other persons whom the ministry sees fit until such a child is produced, and then until the child is of proper school age, that is to say 5 years old, you will be assigned a family liaison officer, who will check that there are no underlying problems within the family which might result in the child's stunted growth and development into a member of the magical community." He paused, as if to let this sink in.
"if no pregnancy is forthcoming even after Ministry intervention, or medical professionals deem either of both of you to be infertile, the ministry will make case by case judgement as to whether the circumstances warrant the reversal of the marriage contract so that one of you may remarry and thus go on to produce children." Hermione sniffed lightly, Severus glanced at her and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. Without thinking further than playing the part that was expected of him, he reached out and took her hand. Their eyes locked as she looked up at him in surprise. He wasn't entirely certain what made him do it, but he tried his very hardest to smile reassuringly at her.
"now, the time, by my clock is 10.15, Miss Granger, I am sure you will want the remaining time to make yourself every bit the blushing bride you deserve to be, and Mr Snape, I am sure you wish to be in contact with your witnesses." He said this as if he knew that Severus had never planned on having witnesses. Hermione rose and followed the official out of the room, Severus rose to follow but found a strong hand pushing his shoulder back down.
The door shut and the hand released his shoulder, Minerva stood before him, her arms folded and her face set to her strictest teacher glare. "Severus Snape, I know full well you meant to be long gone by today, but something has held you back and I think you'd do well to listen to that instinct." He didn't look at her, so she placed a hand beneath his chin and forced his eyes to hers. "you listen well to me, now, young man. She's a good girl, and she feels bad enough about this situation as it is without you making her feel worse. This is not her fault. The ministry has forced her hand in this as much as it has forced yours, so you're going to get yourself out of this chair, get yourself into a decent set of robes, and you're going to marry Hermione Granger. What's more, you're going to smile while you do it, and you're going to tell her that she looks beautiful and all the other lovely things a bride deserves to hear on her wedding day. I will sort out your witnesses, I'll sort out your rings, I'll sort out everything else, but mark my words, Severus, friend or no, Albus' bloody promise or no, you hurt her and you won't know what's hit you when I come after you. Got it?" He nodded a little numbly. He wasn't quite certain what it was about Minerva but when she wanted to she could make him feel like the naughty school boy he had once been, sneaking into the library after dark with his stubby candle and a bag to carry the books.
-#x#-
Hermione was ready to go. She had tamed her hair, she had done her make-up, she had even transfigured an old set of robes into a wedding dress, one she hoped he would like, or at least not mind. Now, as she looked herself over one last time in the mirror, she knew that this was it. This was the moment when everything she had ever learnt from a book became completely irrelevant, because there was nothing; absolutely nothing she could read that would ever tell her how to successfully live her life as Mrs Snape.
She felt vaguely nauseous. She had known, as soon as she had seen him in the ministry that day, as soon as she had sparred with him and he had stormed out, she had known that she would marry him and yet now that it was finally upon her it all seemed so petty. She was marrying him, why? Because she wanted to prove that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor could live together without killing each other? Because she saw him as some sort of challenge, a lion to be tamed? Because she didn't want to return to the muggle world that held nothing for her, and he was her only chance at staying and being reasonably happy?
A knock at the door brought her back from her thoughts. She opened it cautiously. Ginny stood there, wearing a simple yet elegant off white dress, little lily squirming in her arms, tiny white flowers woven into her hair. Tears once again tracked down her cheeks as she opened the door wider to admit her friend. Ginny released the toddler, who immediately busied herself with trying on the various bits of jewellery Hermione had neglected to return to the box.
"Oh 'Mione," Ginny hugged the bride close, hope against silent hope that she would be able to offer as much comfort as her friend, almost sister would need. "Don't cry, sweet," she hushed, "you'll ruin your make-up." She pulled back to see Hermione's faint, watery smile as her humour won out. She surveyed the dress at arms length, taking in every detail. "you're so beautiful, 'Mione, he's lucky to be getting someone as wonderful as you and if he's too stupid to see that then by Merlin he's a bigger twat that Harry always says he is." That said, she silently fixed the slightly smudged eyeliner and mascara, dabbed a final time at the cheeks and led the Now outright faint looking woman out to see her future husband.
They were almost at the main doors out into the grounds when Hermione stopped. "I'm such a fool, Ginny." She breathed, "I've forced him into this, I've trapped him, oh, how he must hate me." Ginny shook her brilliant red head.
"If he hated you, Hermione, firstly he wouldn't be standing out there beside Harry, yes, my Harry, waiting for you and secondly, he wouldn't have sent you these." She held out her hand to expose a glittering necklace with a matching bracelet. White gold holding together a string of tiny diamonds.
-#x#-
Severus wanted to be pacing again. His knees twitched in his trousers beneath his formal black dress robes. His hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched. He had no idea what was happening. He seemed to have finally taken leave of his senses after all these years. He remembered Minerva giving him a thorough dressing down, and after that it was all a bit of a blur. He vaguely recalled a very rushed visit to Gringotts, and a scrawled message thrust into the hands of a ginger haired someone, a ginger haired someone who at first he had thought to be Lily Evans, but on closer inspection had transformed into Ginny Potter. Now, here he was, in sunlight that was far too dazzling, in robes that felt far to restricting, beside a Harry Potter who looked far too smug. "Calm down, Severus, She'll be here soon."
"I know I gave Miss Granger permission to call me Severus, but you most definitely will never have that right." it was all too much for Severus to take in, and now, to make things oh so much worse, Harry Potter, wonder of the wizarding world, was laughing at him. But then he heard music, and suddenly the doors to the castle were thrown open and he saw her descend the steps.
He felt his breath catch in his throat as he beheld his bride. His; it seemed so impossible that this could be happening. She wore her hair down, but it was not bushy or unruly as it had been, it fell in delicate waves down her back. Her dress had no sleeves, not even a thin strap to hold it up, and was fitted, showing her womanly curves, accentuated by the delicate silver embroidery at her waist against the deep, beautiful green silk. She had chosen green, Slytherin green, for her wedding dress, the thought sent his mind into reels of shock., the skirt continued to hug her shape until her knees where it flared and spread into a pooling train, the beautiful green that complemented her skin and hair so much parted to reveal that traditional wedding colour, white, only it wasn't just white, there seemed to be more shimmering silvery detail all along this shifting wavering skirt.
"Don't forget to breathe, Severus can't have you passing out now, or the students will gossip." He heard the whisper but wasn't quite certain from whose lips it came, until the dark haired bane of his existence stepped forward to greet Hermione, who, he realised, was now only paces away from him. "You look so beautiful, Hermione, like a goddess from a dream or something." He recognised that it should be him telling Hermione this, and he vowed that in his own way, he would. He also understood that Potter had told her because he believed that Severus would not.
And then he had her hand in his own, and the ministry official was droning on, but Severus could not hear him, his mind seemed to have taken a vacation. Perhaps, he thought vaguely, that he truly was going insane, maybe this was what it felt like to finally loose ones marbles, as Dumbledore would have put it. He thought that actually, it wasn't that bad. He wasn't sure how he made his vows, but make them he clearly had because the next thing he heard was, "you may kiss the bride." And that dragged his mind back from its vacation.
Who may what the what? Oh, shit, they were waiting for him to kiss Hermione. Hermione was waiting for him to kiss her. He slowly leant forwards, his hand brushing a single stray curl of hair from her face and brushed his lips against hers. She tasted of hot tea and chocolate, he noticed somewhere in the part of his bran that wasn't full of blank buzz. But now they were clapping, and she was pulling away and he had to remember how to put one foot in front of the other with dignity and grace and lead his bride, his wife, back to the castle were Minerva had prepared a celebratory party. The cynical part of his brain sniggered, what a farce this was, but the spy had fooled them all again.
The Great hall was set as if for a huge ball, with red, green and white ribbons artfully decorating the walls, and gracing the tables. Hermione had to bite back a sudden rush of slightly hysterical laughter as she realised that all this had been set up for –she did a quick head count - eight people, one of whom was already sound asleep in her fathers arms. Minerva approached, she was looking from Severus to Hermione, but what ever she saw, she chose not to comment on, instead she extended her hand to Severus, who politely took it and grazed her knuckles with his lips as was expected. "congratulations." She told them sincerely; though the look on Severus' face made her think that perhaps it would have been better to say nothing. "I'm sure you know how this works, but due to the lack of guests I thought we might just gloss over the speeches. Severus I know how you hate these social things, so I've managed to shorten it down to an announcement and one dance, then you may go and skulk off as you see fit."
"I see one problem that you seem to have overlooked." They could have been discussing the weather; Minerva looked enquiringly at him, as did Hermione, who could see nothing wrong with this plan except that it resigned them to each others company much sooner than she had anticipated. "I don't dance."
"Yes, you do." Minerva told him as if she thought he was joking.
"No." He repeated in his most dangerous voice, "I don't."
"Well, I'm sure you'll pick it up quick enough." She told him in what Hermione thought to be quite a cheeky voice. Before he could raise any further objections she had turned to the small gathering and said "ladies as Gentlemen, I give you Mr & Mrs Severus & Hermione Snape for their firth dance." And the music struck up as if from the air itself.
Hermione heard Severus growl, actually growl like a feral animal as he pulled her sharply to the floor. As it turned out, he did dance. He actually danced rather well, in Hermione's opinion, at least, there was no toe stomping as there had been with Ron. She allowed herself a moment to daydream that this was actually a proper wedding and that they loved each other dearly. She leant her head against his chest and ignored the fact that he stiffened like someone had just turned his spine to solid metal, and she let herself pretend that the ministry had not forced them both into this. Finally the song came to an end and she released Severus who visibly relaxed by a jot. Unfortunately, now that they were off the dance floor, Winsdale was headed towards them. He shook Severus' hand and then bent over Hermione's, telling her how lovely she looked and then informing both of them how simply wonderful it was to preside over a true love wedding in amongst all these stiff ministry initiated weddings. It seemed that Severus didn't trust himself to speak, because he simply sneered down at the man. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't have the heart to tell him that he was mistaken in his observations.
As soon as he had left them, Severus turned to his wife. "Do you think we might leave now? Or do you wish to spend more time with Mr and Mrs Potter?" His voice was so devoid of any emotion that it gave Hermione pause for a moment. She glanced over at her friends; they were dancing, closely wrapped in each others arms, practically radiating love, as lily slept on in a conjured travel crib.
They left the room, and Hermione was surprised when Severus turned to go through the main doors and out into the grounds instead of to the dungeons where she had expected him to go. "a-are we not going back to your rooms?"
"My rooms, Miss Granger?" he questioned, then without waiting for her to reply, "I might remind you that I am no longer on the staff here at Hogwarts and therefore I have no 'rooms' of my own here."
"Yes, I know that, but Minerva gave me a set of rooms here to use while we were brewing." She put her hands on her hips, feeling defiant.
Severus smirked and shook his head. "and they called you the most intelligent witch of your age. Lets see if you can add after all, shall we? Think back, Miss Granger, think back to the day after the law that now binds us was passed."
"The day we both turned up at the ministry?" She wasn't quite sure were he was going with this, but she would play along, clearly she had missed something, and that was enough for her to want to know the answer.
"Very good. Now I ask you to call to your mind what I told you that day." It was like being back in class, she quickly trawled her memories.
"You told me that you'd rather become on of the muggle homeless than marry me," it stung, now, to think that she had married him so very much against his will. That was his point? That he didn't want to marry her, she'd known that, but how was that related to his having rooms at Hogwarts? She was surprised to hear him give a short, dry laugh, as if he was himself relishing the irony.
"Before that." She trawled again, digging past his insulting declaration, and then it struck her.
"I had no great desire to return to Hogwarts, Miss Granger. No great want to be confronted and reminded everyday of all the wounds I have caused." His words echoed through her mind and suddenly she felt even worse. Not only had she married him against his will, she had married him in the one place that he really didn't want to be.
"I see from the expression on your face that the knut has finally dropped." He was moving again, she hurried to catch up to him as he moved down the outer steps and began a brisk march across the lawns, Hermione almost jogging in his wake.
"w-where are we going, then?" she made herself ask.
"Home, Miss Granger. We are going home." Spinners End. Of course. They went the rest of the way across the grounds in silence. Hermione was trying to talk herself out of feeling guilty. Desperately trying to convince herself that something had made him stay, when he could have so easily vanished. After all, even today, when he had realised the day, there had been opportunities for him to go, to hide himself away, and to leave her to her fate. Finally they were outside the gates. She wondered what would happen now. Would he pull her through time and space with him to his home? Or would he simply take himself and leave her to find her own way? He knew that she knew the way; after all, she had accosted him in his very last private sanctuary already. The crack of him disapparating gave her the answer. With a sigh and a heavy heart she followed him.
-#x#-
She found the front door slightly ajar, as if he did not want to wait for her and have to face actively inviting her in, but at the same time could not bring himself to shut her out. She pushed it open, stepped through and closed it behind herself, calling on all her Gryffindor courage. Now she was here it seemed the only thought she could get into her mind was that at some point in the course of the next few hours, she would be sleeping with her teacher. She wondered if he felt the same trepidation. Probably not, surely he had slept with many women; it was probably nothing to him. Her nerves flared. What if she disappointed him? She had no experience to guide her, and this was not something she could learn from the pages of books. Not only had she stolen his freedom, but now she would give him to know that he was to spend the rest of his days in bed with a woman who would forever disappoint him.
She could almost have cried; it was only the thought that he would probably just hate her more if she did that stopped her. Still, it was too late for regrets now. She pushed open the door to the front room and found him sitting in a high backed leather chair, a bottle of firewhiskey balanced on the arm and a glass in his hand. She watched him tip the amber liquid into his mouth, watched him close his eyes to relish the burn, and then watched him pour another glass and repeat the process.
For once in her life, the books did not draw her eyes. For once in her life, Hermione was completely at a loss for what to do next. She stepped closer, and then sank down to sit on the floor, the skirt from the wedding dress she still wore pooling about her. The minutes dragged by and the level of firewhiskey in the bottle drew the half way point. Finally, she spoke, she wasn't quite certain what made her say it, but the words were out before she had really thought them. "You realise that we only have 5 hours in which to...err... finalise our bond?"
Two more glasses of firewhiskey disappeared before he spoke, a slightly strangled edge to his voice. "Yes."
"so, then, you intend to spend what, the next four and a half hours getting too drunk to actually do anything?" He was going to kill her. The words danced off her tongue even as the knowledge of her impending doom for speaking them dawned on her.
Severus sighed, and responded. "Have a drink, Miss Granger."
She found herself holding her won glass of firewhiskey. She gave it a tentative sniff, it smelt like strong honey and wood smoke. She sipped, felt the burn, and managed to control her urge to choke, and reduce it to a slight clearing of her throat. "This is strong stuff." She commented.
"Yes, Miss Granger, it is."
"I wish you wouldn't call me that." He didn't respond that time, so she added, "I mean, it's not even my name anymore is it? It makes me feel so much like a child."
"You are a child." She thought she heard a hint of despair in his voice.
"I'm not a child. I've not been a child in the eyes of the law for 5 years, and I've not been a child in my own mind for even longer." She told him, she grasped her anger and held on to it; it drove away her fear.
"Ah, but you see, it doesn't matter what you are in the eyes of the law, now what you are in your own mind. It does matter, however, that you area child here." He tapped the side of his head with a finger. "in here, you are still every bit the bushy haired eleven year old who first entered my class room and then proceeded to answer every single question like a text book come to life." He sighed again and suddenly she realised that that was why he was drinking. Not because he had failed in his promise not to marry her, not even because he hated her that much for trapping him in this, but because he felt like he'd married a child.
"What can I do?" she asked him quietly. "What can I do to make you see me as a woman?" he gave another humourless laugh; the sound cut her like a knife. He didn't answer he question. She threw back her drink, suddenly wanting to join him in his drunken oblivion, where ever it may lead.
The bottle was empty now, and Severus could feel the faintly dizzy buzz of drunkenness working through his mind. He would have liked to have been completely paralytic at this point, unfortunately his body resisted such high levels of intoxication in much the same way as it defended itself from the Imperius Curse or any other form of magic that sort to take his control away from him. She was sitting on his floor, not looking at him. She was only on her third glass. She was examining the patterns on the tumbler that still held a little of the golden liquid with a childlike fascination. Child like, of course it was child like, she was a child, just an innocent child. She didn't have any idea what she had gotten herself into. He didn't need to look at the clock to know that time was wearing on. He fought with himself. If they did nothing, if he couldn't make himself do it, she would be forced to marry someone else. He knew this; he had done his research thoroughly. He also knew exactly who that was likely to be. He couldn't let that happen. No one deserved that. Minerva had been right. He had to marry her. It wasn't her fault really. He didn't blame her. He just didn't know that he could make himself take her in his arms. Kiss her, and touch her in her innocence, and snatch that innocence away. He grasped on his one final lifeline that might just get him through this without the monumental amount of absolute soul crushing guilt. Maybe she wasn't an innocent. Maybe, just maybe. She had been with that quidditch player at the Yule ball, Karkaroff's student. No, she had been only been fourteen then, too young, much too young. She was still too young for him. Potter then? Could he remember hearing that she had dated the Boy Wonder? Skeeter had written words to that effect, he knew. It was possible. Or Weasley, she had spent so much time with that boy, yes, it had probably been with him. There was hope, perhaps he would not have to steal that from her too.
He looked at her again, trying to see her womanly shape in the dress, to remember the moment when she had walked towards him at Hogwarts and he had been unable to find a trace of student in her. He needed that, now, to be able to grasp that image of the confident woman striding towards him. "Miss," he stopped himself, calling her as a teacher to a student would not help him. "Hermione." He forced himself to say it. "Would you stand up, please?" She looked a little shocked, but she got to her feet, slowly, carefully. She swayed slightly. Clearly she was not used to the alcohol that coursed through her veins. Good. It would relax her. He surveyed her. How the dress clung to her body, how it swept down to the ground past her feet. Her feet, the image came back to him of her feet in his hands, her legs, naked in his hands, in the lab. His fingers sliding over the ointment slick skin. Perhaps he could do this after all. "Put down your glass." She did it. She didn't say a word, she just did it. He withdrew his wand from his sleeve, to her credit she did not flinch. He pointed it at her and the heavy ribbons at the back of her dress began to undo themselves. She blushed, the colour seeping across the swell of her breasts above the low neck of the corseted top.
She knew now, what he wanted her to do. She had answered it with her question. She had to prove to him that she was not a child, show him that she was a woman. Slowly she reached up, and thanking every deity she could think of for Ginny Potter's dirty mind and forward thinking. She slowly lowered the dress so that it pooled at her feet, leaving her in a black lace bodice and stockings. She met his gaze confidently, the alcohol helped. She stepped out of the green ocean at her feet, deliberately, provocatively swaying her hips as she moved forward. She felt his eyes on her, actually felt the ay they swept over her entire being, and knew that he could not bring himself to look at her face. Knew that if he did he would see once again his student.
She looked beautiful to him in her skin-tight black lace, then, he thought idly, that is the point of lingerie, to make women seem more appealing to men. She moved towards him, a gentle swish of her hips, she ran her own hands slowly over the tops of her stockings, up the bodice, as if checking for creases. He felt his blood warm. She was directly in front of him now. He reached out touch her, his hand coming to rest on her hip. She leant forwards. Tentatively brushing his lips with her won. He tasted her fear. Tasted her inexperience and swore mentally. He pushed it to the back of his mind, along with the knowledge that he would surely burn in hell, if such a place existed, for this. She made to pull back, and he knew in that moment that if it stopped now, he would not have the strength to restart it and all would be lost. He caught her wrist in his free hand, and moved his other from her hip to her hair. He kissed her this time, taking control, parting her lips with his tongue to taste her properly. She was hesitant at first, but soon mirrored his movements. She came closer too, now almost straddling him. He broke the kiss only to make a trail from her jaw down her neck and to the hollow of her collar bone meeting her shoulder. He needed her to make some noise, some movement. Needed it so that he could make himself believe that she was here of her own free will, needed it to ease his guilt at his own slowly rising erection. He bit her, a sharp nip at the very base of her neck and she gave him what he needed. A slight gasp, a moan, the tightening of the hand at his own neck. He released her wrist, still laying his kisses and gentle bites across her skin.
He felt her fingers searching to the buttons to his robes. He dreaded the fumbling of her inexpert fingers. He vanished his own robes with magic. It caused her only a second's pause, before she began to work instead upon the buttons to his shirt. His hand wandered over the lace of the bodice, as his mouth found hers once more. Severus traced the slight peak of one nipple through the delicate fabric and was rewarded with another gasp, another moan. He hands were inside his shirt now, roving over his chest. He knew she would feel the scars there. Let her feel them said a harsh voice in his head, let her know through her fingers the damaged thing she has married. Let it disgust her. Let her know there now there is no turning back. He fought the voice down. She drew back. Her lips swollen from his kisses and her breathing ragged. She didn't look so innocent now, he was please to note.
Hermione looked straight into his eyes. Knowing that he needed her to hide her inexperience as best she could. She knew also that it was working, as she half stood over him, half sat on top of him, she could feel the heavy mass of his burgeoning arousal against her inner thigh. Slowly, in what she hoped was a teasing manner; she began to lower the straps of her bodice, stroking her fingers across her own skin as she did so. She saw a flicker of true desire in his eyes. That was what she needed. She needed to know that he was not horrified by her appearance. His hands moved up to still her own, then replace them. He slowly drew the bodice down, rolling it over itself and stroking her skin as he did so. She arched her back as he drew his hands back up her body to cup her breasts, moving his thumbs over her nipples as she moaned once again. This time when she kissed him it was not hesitant at all.
He dipped his head once more, this time taking her nipple into his mouth, toying with it, sucking it, gently rolling it between his teeth. Her hands flew to his hair once more. She could not deny that this was enjoyable to her as she had never imagined it would be. The moments she had considered what it might be like, she had thought he would simply take his own pleasure but it seemed that he was taking extra care to draw from her the tiny noises of pleasure.
When he stood up moments later, she found herself pulled flush against him once more, and noted that his shirt had disappeared, presumably the same way as his robes, for she had never finished unbuttoning it. She pressed herself closer, feeling his hard chest against her own softer one, feeling his desire pressing firmly against her stomach, still tapped in the confines of his trousers. Pulling the very last of her courage about her, she reached down to remove his belt. Before she had gotten that far, however, she felt herself being lifted. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist and felt all the more closely his arousal, pressed as it was, now against her core. Even through the remaining layers of clothes she could feel its heat.
He promised himself that he would not hurt her. That he would, if possible, at least bring her some pleasure. If the ministry wanted children, they would be doing this more than once, after all. It was with this promise in mind that he moved them both to the bedroom. They would not have their first time together in a chair, like two randy teenagers; he fought down the thought that she was little more than a teenager as it threatened to diminish his passion. He needed to keep that. He needed to continue this game of pretending that she was not an innocent child, pretending she was... who? It didn't really matter, as long as she was not Miss Granger, his student.
By the time they hit the bed sheets, the remainder of their clothes had hit the floor. NO, she was certainly not a child. He could see that now. He kissed her again, trailing his kisses lower now, over her breasts, over her abdomen, lower still to kiss the soft flesh of her thighs, tracing his hands over her body as if he were a blind man making a map. She responded, raking her finger nails across his shoulders, tipping her head back and arching her spine. When he found her mouth again she pressed herself against him. He pulled her closer, gently nibbling her lower lip as his hands followed the path his mouth had journeyed. He did not return once he had charted her hips this time. This time he allowed his fingers to dance over her heat, curling into her hairs, grazing over her hot centre. She shifted against him, not knowing why in her won mind as the heat began to cloud her judgement and her instincts surfaced to take control. Long dexterous fingers traced her opening, gently probing, a thumb grazing the hard bud that throbbed with the touch. She drifted on the haze, felt him shift his weight to come above her and parted her legs obligingly, raising her hips to encourage him.
She tried not to tense in anticipation of the pain. She was not so innocent as to expect it not to hurt, she could only hope that the pain would not last. She gasped as he first pushed himself slowly into her. He held still as she adjusted to the feel of him, only moving again when she relaxed her grip on his shoulders, signalling that she was ready to go on. The pain was soon forgotten. The pain was soon replaced by waves of swelling pleasure, as he pushed towards her very centre. There was something though, she could feel that he was tense and she realised that he was holding back, being so gentle with her, so as not to hurt her, not to scare her. Who ever would have guessed that Severus Snape would be so... thoughtful? She almost laughed, but another wave of delicious bliss washed over her, sweeping the very thought from her mind.
He had opened his eyes, that was the problem, he had been unable to resist watching her as he entered her for the first time, and in that watching, in seeing her face momentarily contort in pain, feeling her fingernails dig into his shoulder blades and knowing exactly what he had just ruined, had brought back to him full force his current situation. He was fucking a student. He couldn't get past it, it was there, all he could see. What was worse was there was still some degree of hot happiness at the feel of her, so tight around him. He was fucking a student, and enjoying it. He had always known he was sick, but he had never imagined that even he would sink to this level of perverted gratification.
Hermione made a conscious effort to tighten her muscles around him and then release in time to his thrusts. She remembered gleaning this particular tip from a muggle magazine she had found in the bedroom of her cousin when staying there once. Even now, it seemed that the written word would not fail her after all. She also raked her nails across his shoulders and back, having noted already that he enjoyed the tingling mixture of pleasure and pain. The pace picked up, and she lost the ability to concentrate on her own actions, it seemed she had ceased to be Hermione and had become simply a seething ball of heat and passion. She could feel something building deep within her, as if it would burst forth and cause her to fragment as it did so, she fought against it at first, not entirely trusting this new sensation, not trusting that it would leave her unharmed, but then, as she felt Severus' shoulders tense and begin to tremble slightly under her fingers, she gave in and let it wash her over the edge into oblivion, gasping his name as the final waves of ecstasy tore through her body. He was ashamed to admit that it was her gasping of his name that in turn finally sent him over the edge, biting down harder than he had intended on her shoulder as he growled his own pleasure.
He rolled off her, the knowledge and guilt of what he had just done raking over him even as the aftershocks still trembled through his body. Hermione noticed the way he grimaced as he turned his back to her. She felt used, suddenly, had she just been a body to him, after all? Now that his passion was spent, he was clearly revolted that he had even touched her. Refusing the tears that sprang to her eyes; Hermione turned her own back to him and hugged the blankets about her, curling into a ball as if to protect herself from her own humiliation.
AN: I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. Next time we deal with the morning after the night before and Hermione makes a little discovery regarding Severus' other woman. Hugs and cookies, ForeverPandora.