There is a nod to The Little Prince in this chapter. Ten points to whoever sees it ; )
That date was followed by another (this time to dinner and a stroll through a hothouse garden) which was followed by another (ice skating, which Hermione was shocked to discover that Severus did incredibly well). There were outings for the three of them, as well. A day trip to a nearby tree acreage to pick out a Christmas tree. The zoo on an unexpectedly warm day. The London childrens museum, where Atticus got to play with dozens of other kids his own age.
One night, Atticus had insisted that Severus be the one to carry him up to bed. Since Hermione hadn't objected, Severus carried the boy up to the attic and joined them for stories and snuggles before bed. Just before he laid down, Atticus kissed Hermione on the cheek, then turned to Severus and did the same. Then the little boy curled up in his bed, the foot of his little blue bunny stuffed in his mouth, as if he hadn't just set Severus' world once more spinning wildly on it's axis.
After that, Severus went up to put Atticus to bed with Hermione every night. Atty giggled when Severus read the stories in silly voices, clung to him when bedtime was absolutely upon him, begged shamelessly for one more story, or one more song. Each time, it was a Herculean test of Severus' will not to give in and let Atticus have anything and everything he wanted.
Most evenings, Severus and Hermione went back down to the library to read or talk. Sometimes they stayed on the couch in Hermione's sitting room and made out like teenagers. It became harder and harder to part each night. And the reasons for doing so became more and more obsolete.
Severus kept his word about not letting Hermione lose herself while he courted her. Every step of the way he made sure she was getting what she wanted, expressing her own opinions, telling him her thoughts. He refused to allow her to demure to his whims. Compromise he readily encouraged. Mindless capitulation he rejected out of hand.
When her doubts and fears preyed on her mind, he encouraged her to open up to him. To share her feelings rather than try and keep it all inside where it would fester. Sometimes all he could do was hold her while she cried and then kiss away the tears.
So much of what she was working through was similar to what he'd felt after the war. He suggested she keep a journal, like he had, and even gave her the name of the muggle therapist he'd seen on a few occasions. Most often, he reminded her that it was normal for her to be struggling with it all. That she wasn't alone. That he understood. Those things, in themselves, seemed to help the most. For the first time in a long while, she wasn't alone.
Part of her feared that if Severus was the reason that she healed herself, she would be forever incomplete without him. She would trade one form of dependency for another. And at first, she thought that was actually what was happening. It wasn't until she realized that Severus was just as invested in her as she was in him, that she finally put that fear behind her. She accepted that it was possible to yearn for him, to need him, but not be despondent without him. That it could be okay, healthy even, to want to spend her life with him. To want his to be the first face she saw in the morning and the last one she saw before she closed her eyes each night.
And that revelation was what finally gave her the courage to invite her to her bed. They had returned from a walk around the edges of the estate, inspecting the rows of tiny trees where they had sectioned off a second orchard, enjoying the scent of the wildflowers that grew nearby, and looking up at the stars. Once they were back in the attic sitting room, Hermione had heated the kettle so they could warm themselves over a cuppa. They sat and talked, the long fingers of Severus left hand wrapped around his mug and the fingers of his right tracing lazy patters on Hermione's shoulder. She had tangled their legs together on the ottoman, and was absentmindedly running her foot up and down his calf.
When she finished the last of her tea, she reached across him to set it on the side table, lost her balance, and ended up sprawled across his lap. The half erection he'd been sporting from their closeness and her casually sensual touch suddenly sprang to life in full glory, pressing insistently against her belly. They both gasped. Hermione started to scramble back, ready to apologize for her slip, but stopped. Why should she apologize? Why should she move at all? She found that she was quite happy with her current position, thank you very much. Instead of moving back, she pressed closer. A soft, deep groan escaped his lips before he could stop it.
"Hermione," he caught at her shoulders, attempting to gently push her back. His heart had started pounding, desire sweeping through his veins like a drug.
"Kiss me," she breathed against his lips. Forgetting that they were in a delicate position, forgetting that she could feel the evidence of his arousal, forgetting that they were waiting to go further physically, he did as she asked and kissed her. His arms wrapped around her tightly, destroying even the smallest semblance of space between them. Not for the first time, he fought the urge to rip her clothes from her body and feel her skin to skin. Instead, he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, delighting in her gasp of pleasure, devouring each hitch of her breath.
Her hands began to roam, across his shoulders, down his chest, and finally reaching between them to the straining placket of his trousers. He hissed in a breath at the contact, hips lifting of their own accord to press himself harder against her hand. As soon as he realized what he'd done, he slammed his hips back down and grabbed her wrist in a gentle but iron fist.
"Hermione," he tried to calm his ragged breath and regain his equilibrium. "I can't- we have to-" She planted each knee on either side of him and pressed the warm apex of her thighs against his erection. His head snapped back so quickly that he thought he might give himself whiplash. "Sweet Circe, woman! You are courting fate. I am only human."
"I know," she murmured, the knowledge of her own femininity, the power she wielded over him, bright in her eyes.
"We shouldn't-"
"I want to."
"Gods, you have no idea how desperately I have wanted to hear you say that. But we can't rush into anything before you're ready."
"I am ready. I want you, Severus. Take me to bed."
He went utterly still beneath her. Only his heart continued to move, pounding so hard that she could see his pulse jumping in his throat. "Are you sure?" he asked, voice hoarse with restraint. She had just offered him what they had both been longing for. What a lesser man would have pressured her for long ago. What she knew he waned desperately. And yet he was willing, even then, to give her an out. If she changed her mind, he would find the will to let her go. He would respect her decision, and he would wait. For as long as it took. That knowledge itself made her more certain than anything that they were ready. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him.
"Yes," she breathed against his lips. "Please." Her soft plea seemed to spur him to action. He pushed up from the couch in one smooth motion, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. She marveled at the strength of him, at his unaffected grace, at the feel of the muscles in his chest and arms bunching and flexing beneath her fingers. He kissed her again, walking towards the door to her bedroom blindly and by some miracle making it across the threshold without sending them both sprawling on the floor.
When his knees hit the edge of her bed, he knelt up on it, trying to ease them both down. Thinking he was letting her go – had he changed his mind? - Hermione clutched him tighter. Severus over corrected, and then both tumbled onto the mattress gracelessly.
"Are you alright?" Severus immediately levered himself up on his hands, looking her over to make sure he hadn't knocked the wind out of her or otherwise harmed her. She was laughing.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I just didn't realize that I was so clumsy I could even make you fall."
Severus chuckled lightly, leaning close to nuzzle her neck and nip at her ear. Her laughter quickly turned to moans of pleasure. "Don't talk about falling, or I'll admit something you're not ready to hear. Besides, you're not clumsy. You are exceedingly graceful when you aren't trying."
"Something I don't want to- wait, what do you mean when I'm not trying?" She tried to look indignant beneath him, but it came across as amused. He kissed her lightly.
"Not to fear, my little lioness. You never have to try around me. You are utterly beguiling exactly as you are." He continued his trail of light kisses down her chin, the slope of her throat, across her collar bone, and stopped at the swell of her breast above the collar of her shirt. He paused, laving the skin there softly, driving her mad. When he still didn't move to do more, Hermione took one of his hands in her own and raised it to the buttons of her blouse. It was all the invitation he needed. Deft fingers unfastened the little buttons more quickly than she could have imagined, and considering the man, that was saying something. She shifted, tugging the open blouse down her arms and flinging it off the bed.
Warm, strong fingers caressed her breasts, one and then the other, stroking softly over the soft fabric of her bra. Then with a deft flick, he unfastened it and slipped the straps down her arms. It, too, was tossed from the bed. Her nipples purled in the air, aching for his attention. She started unbuttoning his waist coat, but was stopped when he suddenly captured one stiff peak in his mouth. The same tongue that had caressed and teased her mouth turned its talent on her breast, making her writhe and moan beneath him. One of his own hands took over the job of getting rid of the waist coat and his shirt. He shrugged them off his shoulders and let them fall negligently to the floor. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except Hermione, the feel of her beneath him, the sound of her pleasured cries, the quick, steady thump of her heart.
"Severus," she breathed, fingers digging into his shoulders. He unbuttoned her jeans and then lifted his head from her breast so she could focus enough to help him shimmy them down her legs. When they were gone, he moved his attention to her other breast, licking and nipping the sensitive flesh until she thought she would fly apart if she didn't have more of him. She pulled him up and kissed him, dropping her hands between them, unbuckling his belt. Then she unfastened his trousers and pushed them past his hips. His pants caught with them, and in one tug, his erection sprang free. Hermione immediately abandoned her task of disrobing him in favor of exploring the length and breadth of him. She gripped him with both hands, reveling in the swift hiss of breath that escaped him. With a gentleness that belied how eager she was, she stroked him, cupping his weight and squeezing lightly. He groaned and his hips bucked towards her. Emboldened, she tightened her grip on his shaft and moved faster, her own hips beginning to lift in time with the movements.
"Hermione, love, you have to stop. It's been longer for me than I care to admit, and I want you far too eagerly-" He sucked in another breath when she stroked him again. "Temptress," he growled. She met his gaze unrepentantly. In one quick motion, he scooped her hands together and pinned them above her head. After pressing a swift kiss to her lips, he moved down her body again, this time not stopping at her breasts, instead continuing on, down her belly and to the lace edge of her panties. He released her hands in order to pull the knickers down, nudging her knees apart along the way. Once they were tossed haphazardly over his shoulder, he settled himself between her legs and nibbled his way up her inner thigh.
"Severus!" She tried to squeeze her legs together, more from shock than protest, but his broad shoulders held them apart. When he reached her core, his tongue stroked across her clitoris. She shrieked, then clamped both hands over her mouth. Severus was one step ahead of her when she tried to grab blindly for her wand. He snatched his own from his discarded trousers and cast a quick silencing spell on the room. Without waiting another beat, he dipped his head between her legs once more and continued devouring her there. Her hips jerked and twisted, seeking more of him and yet less all that the same time. He followed her movements, learning what she liked with the same single-minded devotion he gave everything that concerned her. When she was writhing and moaning, he slipped two fingers inside her and curled them slightly. She bowed off the bed with a sharp cry, her body trembling and tensing as the orgasm wracked her.
When he'd wrung the last bits of pleasure from her and she was weakly pushing his head away, he rose and blanketed her body with his own. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips and welcomed him in the cradle of her thighs. The gesture was enough to set him on edge again. When had a woman last accepted his touch eagerly? Lifted her hips to his in desperate need of him? Had he ever bedded a woman so soft, so lovely, so... Hermione? There was nothing else for it. She was unique in all the stars and galaxies, more precious to him than any other woman could dare hope to ever be.
Slowly, he fitted the head of his cock against her slick quim. She moaned, trying to urge him faster with her heels against his arse, but he refused to be rushed. It had been a long time for her, too, since she'd taken a partner to bed. He wanted her to feel nothing from their joining but pleasure. His lips descended on hers, one of his hands coming up to cup the weight of her breast and let his thumb drag lightly across the turgid tip. She gasped, her hips lifting in reaction, sinking another inch of his cock inside her. Her walls fluttered around him, gripping him as eagerly as her arms did. Still, he forced himself not to give into the rising demand within him to simply bury himself inside her and never stop. Slowly, inch by inch, he slid deeper until he was buried to the hilt in her fiery depths.
They both moaned low, adjusting to the sensation and letting themselves be swept along by the mounting pleasure. Severus pulled back, then pushed forward again. Her body clamped around him like a fist and he had to grit his teeth against the sensation. Once more, he pulled nearly out and slid back inside. Hermione gave an impatient moan and lifted her hips to him sharply.
"Faster," she begged. Unable to resist, Severus began to move more quickly, drawing back and slamming forward in time with her gasps. He kissed her again, deeply, desperately, joined to her as closely as two beings could possibly become. When her legs began to shake and his control was about to snap, he slipped one hand between them and stroked her clit. Her whole body tensed, close, so close, to that elusive edge. He stroked her again, driving himself into her as he circled and rubbed her clit, feeling it pulse beneath his finger.
"Hermione-" he growled her name harshly, raggedly, pleasure sapping him of all other thought than Hermione, Hermione, Hermione! The sound of his voice sent her flying, careening into oblivion. She screamed his name and bit his shoulder. He nearly roared his own release, fucking her into the mattress with all his strength. She was clenched around him, body tensing in time with each spurt of his seed inside her.
Slowly, one breath at a time, they began to come back to themselves. Severus realized that he'd let his weight collapse atop her and started to raise himself up, but she stopped him with a gentle hand on his back. "Stay," she whispered. He could deny her nothing in that moment. He lowered himself onto her once more, sliding his arms between her back and the mattress so he could hug her tightly. When he could once more breathe normally, he kissed the tip of her nose and turned them so they were laying on their sides, still embracing. "That was..." she searched for a word that didn't sound trite, then gave up. "Good. Very, very good."
"I aim to please."
"That you did. Twice."
Exhaustion tugged at them, making their eyelids heavy. It seemed like there should be more they had to say, things to discuss in light of this step forward in their relationship, but no words came. Hermione was content to let things lie as they were, with silent understanding passing between them. They drifted, letting sleep slip around them in fits and spurts, kissing when it receded and simply holding each other when it took them.
It must have been the proximity of a beautiful, naked woman, or maybe it was simply because it had been so long for him, but it took far less time than Severus expected to find himself hard and ready again. Wasn't he too old to be horny already? Whatever the case, he wanted her again. It would be so easy to turn her in his arms so that her back was pressed against his chest, her arse cradled against his hips, and slip inside her. He imagined he could have her halfway to orgasm by the time she woke up, already rocking back against him and calling his name. And maybe, someday, they would be at a place in their relationship where he could do so. But he didn't want to take anything for granted. Her bastard ex had done that. Assumed that consent, once given, couldn't be revoked. That marriage was a blanket agreement to sex whenever he wanted it, despite her feelings on the matter. And almost worse, he'd indoctrinated Hermione to believe it too. She'd balked at the idea that what Phillipe had done was assault. They'd been married after all. It sickened him.
She deserved better, so much better. He knew that in normal, sane relationships, casual morning sex, or being woken up by an orgasm was a good thing, and that for the most part, consent was implied. But as things stood, it wasn't a chance Severus was willing to take. He didn't want her to feel, even for the smallest moment, that he'd denied her the choice.
His serious thoughts had woken him up enough to recall that they weren't the only ones sleeping in Hermione's rooms. Atticus was also asleep right next door to them. Suddenly, Severus wasn't sure if it was a good idea for him to stay the night in her bed. Didn't Atticus usually come to wake his mother up in the morning? What would he think of finding Severus with his mother? How would they explain? Would they even need to? It was enough to make his eye twitch trying to sort it all out. For once, he was thankful that he wasn't the one who had to make the final decision here.
"Hermione," he whispered, pressing kisses to her eyes and nose to rouse her. She stirred, mumbled, and tried to bury her face deeper into the pillow. "Hermione, wake up love." He stroked a hand over her hair, then traced down the line of her arm. She shivered and blinked her eyes open. "It's getting late. If we don't want Atticus to find me here in the morning, I should probably go."
"Go?" She seemed disappointed enough about the prospect that Severus smiled. "Unless you think you are ready to explain this next...step... in our relationship to him?" His words conveyed his doubt, but his tone was laced with just a hint of hope. Hermione caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought. On the one hand, Atticus already knew that they cared for each other. He'd seen them kiss, he'd seen them hold hands. He accepted it as if that's the way things had always been.
But what would she say when he asked why 'Sev'us' was sleeping in Mummy's bed? She could say that when two adults love each other, they liked to sleep in the same place, but they hadn't progressed to I love yous yet. So what would she say? That they were dating, and were both hoping for more, but they were taking things slowly and this was the next step in their relationship? That sounded convoluted, even to her own mind. Finally, she shook her head.
"It's not that I don't want to tell him. I do, especially before he finds out on his own. But it's just-"
"Shh," Severus gave her a gentle smile and kissed her to quiet her. "You don't have to say any more. I understand. We'll get there. There's no need to rush." With one more kiss, he tossed aside the blankets and started to rise. Hermione's eyes zeroed in on his erection immediately.
"Well, you don't need to go right now, do you?" She bit her lip again, eyes travelling from his cock to his face and back again. Severus gave her a wolfish smile.
"I'm sure I can spare a few more minutes for round two." He slipped back into the bed just in time to feel her stiffen. "What? What's the matter?"
"No, it's nothing. I just thought of something..." she trailed off, looking at him as if she'd just discovered some deep secret of his and was trying to fit it in with what else she knew of him. "It's nothing, really. None of my business anyway."
"Hermione."
"It doesn't matter either way, so its no big deal. Just forget it."
"Hermione." This time his voice was as deep and commanding as it had ever been in his classroom. He looked down his nose at her, practically compelling her compliance. She blushed.
"Its just the way you said 'round two' and I remembered you saying before that you hadn't been on a date since you were so young, and I know you didn't go home with any of the dates Minerva set you up on, so I had thought, I just assumed... but then earlier, you were so sure and so talented, that I completely forgot that it was possible that this was... well..." she stopped, took a breath and realized she was babbling incoherently. "Was that, the first time- I mean, was it your first time?"
His brows drew together in confusion. "With you?" Did she think they'd had sex and she somehow wasn't aware of it? She blushed, and then her rambling started to make sense. "Ever?" He laughed, low and deep, the sound rumbling out of his chest and tugging a smile to Hermione's lips despite her discomfort. "No, Hermione, it wasn't. I haven't always lived in a world where courtship and affection were precursors to sex. My first time was, perhaps, later than most, but I assure you that you did not just rob me of my virtue."
"Oh." Hermione wasn't sure if she was relieved (after all, wouldn't it have been strange for him never to have been with another woman?) or disappointed (after all, wouldn't it have been wonderful for him to have never been with another woman?). "Well, good then. I mean, its really not my business."
"Of course it is. I want you to be a part of my life. I want to know you better than anyone else in this world, and I want you to know me the same. You have only ever ask and I will answer any questions you have. Previous sexual history included."
"Okay," she said, nodding. "Same goes, then."
"Good. Though do not expect me to be burning with questions about your other partners. Especially if we are about to try and..." he gestured between them. She laughed.
"Of course. And now that we've got that cleared up, we should get onto the..." she gestured between them the way he had. He chuckled and wrapped her in his arms for a languorous, unhurried bout of lovemaking.
When he finally, reluctantly, slipped away from her bed in the wee hours of the morning, Hermione let her mind drift contentedly over the events of the night. Severus was a talented and generous lover. She'd been thoroughly satisfied, and what was more, he wasn't afraid to let her lead. He was confident in himself but not arrogant. He saw to her needs before addressing his own. Instead of trying to instruct her on what he liked, he took his time to discover what she liked.
If their playful banter was any indication, they were comfortable enough with each other to laugh and play during sex, which was something she'd always longed for. He plied her mind just as much as her body. He could be serious as well as light hearted.
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright.
Don't talk about falling, or I'll admit something you're not ready to hear.
That's what he'd said. And then she'd been distracted, and she hadn't questioned him. But he'd said it. And then, later, he'd called her love. Yes, she knew it was common endearment. Plenty of people said it to perfect strangers. But the phrases just kept circling around in her head.
Don't talk about falling, or I'll admit something you're not ready to hear.
Love.
Don't talk about falling...
What else could he have meant? And if he did mean what she thought he did, what was she supposed to do with that information? He was right, she wasn't ready to hear it. It was too soon, even in their unconventional relationship. She still had too many doubts about herself to really believe it. But he was falling for her. Falling in love with her. She put her hand over her heart, which had begun to pound wildly. Of course, logically, she had known this was where they were headed. She'd admitted to herself ages ago that she was already half in love with him. But that just seemed to be a given. He was so... him. And she was...well... her.
Which was probably half the problem.
Scratch that. It was all of the problem. If she could accept that she deserved him, that he could truly love her, then he could come back up the stairs and say it right that moment and make her the happiest woman alive. But she wasn't there yet. It still haunted the back of her mind that she would start to disappoint him, would bore him, would anger him. And he would either have to change her to be better, or his attention would wane. She knew all the reasons why those thoughts were ludicrous. Why they made no sense, had no relevance on their relationship. And yet she couldn't quite stamp them out.
So the words would remain unsaid. They would be filed away with all the other things they both wanted but couldn't ask for yet. Marriage, family, forever.
She laid back against the pillows and tried to force herself to enjoy the last few hours she would get to rest before Atticus woke up, but sleep refused to come. Her heart felt nearly full to bursting and even though it was too soon, too risky, too uncertain, she couldn't keep the smile of happiness off her face.
