A/N: Thank you so much for your beautiful responses, it's the best part about writing!


Chapter 4

Hermione could not believe she held his slender hand in hers. She had dreamed of this for so long, to stroke along his calloused fingers, to feel the heat of his skin against hers. Butterflies erupted in her stomach and she had to pull herself together as not to show how much it affected her.

Her obsession with Severus Snape had reached new heights in the last couple of weeks. She had always admired him, had craved his approval and his attention, but only during the last couple of months had she admitted to herself that it had grown into something more. Something had shifted inside her, and suddenly there had been an awareness – of him, as a man. As a dark, wonderfully intriguing man that had her heart beating faster every time the silky timbre of his voice reached her ears.

She could not focus anymore when he was near, her thoughts in disarray and her heart beating wildly in her chest. When his black eyes met hers, her stomach dropped and heat coursed through her body. Those moments were wonderful and terrible at the same time. Wonderful, because of the way he made her feel, made her body explode with emotions, and terrible because she was afraid her feelings were clearly written across her face. The thought that he might know about her infatuation with him was more than she could bear. He would never let her live this down if he ever found out.

And then… detention had happened. She still remembered every second. Although she had acted completely out of character, she had for once done exactly what she had wanted and found that she was unable to regret it. Because he had responded to her advances.

Never in a million years would she have believed that he would allow her kiss. The moment his tongue had touched hers, her insides had turned into a raging inferno of longing and desire. She had expected him to pull away, but instead, he had pulled her closer.

She bit her lip at the memory, recalling every subtle move of his lips over hers. He had held her as if she were supposed to be there in his arms. As if she were his. It had been the most exhilarating experience of her life.

When he had pulled away and the influence of the substance had lifted, there had been a moment, just a second, where something had smoldered in his eyes and it had burned her to the core. For just this second, she had been convinced he would pull her into his arms again and resume their kiss.

Unfortunately, she had been mistaken.

He had made it clear to her that it could never happen again, which left her devastated although she had known there could not be anything else. Yet, the fact that he had not obliviated her had left her feeling strangely hopeful.

After their kiss, she could think of nothing else, replaying the experience over and over again in her mind. She had wanted to see him again so badly, but the whole weekend, he had been absent from the Great Hall. Then, finally, on Monday morning, he had been seated at the staff table. She had tried so hard not to look at him, but it had been to no avail. It was as if her eyes were drawn to him on their own accord. Her gaze had only caressed him for a second before his eyes snapped up, clashing with hers.

Instantly, there had been a connection between them. Everything else had seemed to fall away as she had been lost in the heated gaze of his black eyes. Her body had tingled as hot waves had crested in her body, leaving her breathless and excited. After what seemed like an eternity, he had severed their connection, focusing on his plate, his long, slender fingers gracefully handling the cutlery.

She had sat there for a minute, dazed, before shaking herself out of her reverie. She needed to get in control of herself. Afraid that she might make a fool out of herself if she stayed any longer, she had quickly left the hall.

Potions class had been misery. The moment she had stepped into his classroom and spotted his tall, dark frame leaning against his desk, she had been unable to concentrate on anything but him. She had wanted to close her eyes at the sound of his voice as it affected her so.

When he had demonstrated the correct way to prepare knotgrass, the agile movements of his hands had her in their spell. She had always admired his graceful, nimble fingers, but now that she knew what they felt like, what they tasted like, after she had run her lips along them, their allure had increased even more. She had to bite her lip as she watched him work, something twisting deep inside her at the sight.

Her concentration had been shattered, but she could not allow herself another mistake like the one with the beetle eyes, so she checked and re-checked every step before proceeding. It had never taken her that long to complete a potion before.

When she had made her way to his desk to drop off her potion, her heart had been beating erratically in her chest, and she had wished that the two of them were alone, that they could go back to what had been between them. But it was a fantasy, and a dangerous one at that. She had to stop herself before she lost complete control of the situation.

Steeling her resolve, she had decided to quit cold turkey right there, right then. Her education was too important. Gathering all of her willpower, she had kept her gaze down, not looking at him, before placing her flask on his desk.

The next two weeks had been pure agony. Her concentration had slipped even more, and completing the simplest potions suddenly seemed like a huge challenge. She had found herself daydreaming in other classes, too, something she just could not allow. Something had to be done.

Her thoughts had kept circling back to his explanation, and suddenly, she had had an inspiration. Obviously, he had craved her touch, too, but that they had crossed the teacher-student-boundary had made it impossible for him to accept anything further from her.

What if she took her Potion N.E.W.T. early and with that, vanish the boundary? She would need extra tutoring, of course, but how… Suddenly, the inspiration had become an epiphany. Everything seemed to fit perfectly together.

The longer she had thought about it, the more she had been convinced that it was the only way to go. The next Potions lesson, she had been unable to stop herself. Lingering while finishing up her potion, she had made sure to be the last student in the room before approaching him. This time, she had made him take the flask from her hand, and when he had complied, she had trailed a finger along his skin to gauge his reaction. Before she made her proposal, she needed to make sure that he was still interested in her, too.

As her finger had trailed along his, he had drawn in a sharp breath and his eyes had glazed over. That had been enough for her.

To her absolute astonishment, he had accepted her proposal. And after an awkward round of stammering, she was finally seated here, in front of him, one of his hands cradled inside her own while her insides were in turmoil.

Massaging his hand had been a blissful experience of its own. She had melted away on the inside as she had worked on him. That he allowed her to be so close to him, to touch him that… intimately, left her feeling breathless and wonderfully cherished. She wanted this moment to last forever.

What she wanted even more was to explore the skin that lay hidden beneath the long, fitted sleeves of his coat. She had not been able to perform the massage to its full extend since her range was limited. If she could only open those buttons and slide the fabric upwards, exposing his skin to her touch... She bit her lip as she pondered if she should ask him for permission to do so, though she feared he might be adverse to the idea. She did not want to spoil the moment.

She jumped as he suddenly spoke.

"Granger, what is it?" he growled, obviously sensing she was conflicted about something.

How was she supposed to ask him so that he did not misunderstand her intentions? She really wanted to give him the whole experience of the massage, which included the wrist, but she did not know how to tell him that she could not reach enough skin?

"I need more…" access? Range? Skin? She pondered which word to use as she met his eyes and was surprised to see a fire burning there. What had she said?

Oh.

Yes, she needed more. More of everything. More of him, her mind screamed. She caught herself and finished her sentence. "I need to be able to reach your wrist to do this properly."

He kept staring at her for a minute before he snapped out of it. "Excuse me, could you repeat that?"

When she had explained her request again, he hesitated, but finally opened the buttons wandlessly with a flick of his fingers.

She slid her fingertips under the fabric, pushing it upwards towards his elbows, laying bare his pale wrist. Old scars were crisscrossing the skin of his forearms and she had to restrain herself not to follow them with her fingertips. It felt forbidden, to see this part of him that was usually covered, and it excited her on a level that she did not want to give any further thought to right now. She would keep that for later.

Squeezing some more lotion into her hands, she set to work again, starting with the circles on his palm. He gave a low groan that lifted the corners of her mouth in a satisfied smirk. That she made him feel this way gave her a smug satisfaction. He enjoyed her touch, her presence. How long she had hoped for this.

After she had treated his palm to several rounds of her pressing thumbs, she slid her hands upwards, circling his wrist in a tight grip and pushing upwards, sliding along his skin towards his elbow. Along the way, she spread out her fingers and drew furrows into the muscles of his forearms. He drew in a sharp breath, but she didn't think it was from pain. At least that's what she hoped. He gave a low growl of approval and she relaxed, continuing her ministrations.


Severus was in heaven. Nothing he had ever felt compared to this.

Well, except for that kiss, a voice in the back of his mind spoke up, but he quickly pushed the thought away. This massage was incredible and he was going to enjoy every second of his piece of heaven.

When her fingertips dug into his forearm, he had to suppress a very vocal response. The knotted fibers in his muscles loosened at her touch, a sudden heat and relaxation flowing from his arm into his body, making every cell inside of him hum in contentment. He wished she would go on like this forever.

When she had worked for some minutes, though, her hold relaxed until her fingertips were only stroking softly over his skin, retreating to his hand before finally falling away.

He knew he had to open his eyes and acknowledge that this magnificent experience was over, but for just one more second, he kept his eyes closed, completely enjoying the moment. His right arm felt boneless, his heated skin prickling and tingling.

Finally, he cracked open his eyes. She regarded him with a quizzical look, her lower lip trapped again by her teeth. There was more that she wanted to ask him. Of course. His eyebrow arched in a silent question.

One corner of her mouth lifted in a small smirk at his perceptiveness. "Are you ready for the other arm? A massage is always applied symmetrically."

A rush of pleasure shot through him at the thought of her hands repeating the whole process on his other arm, to experience this piece of heaven again. But then another thought crossed his mind and it felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over his body. She would have to open that sleeve, too, but this forearm bore the Dark Mark. It was his dark, shameful secret.

She probably knew that he had been marked, as the Golden Trio seemed to be aware of his role as a spy, thanks to Dumbledore's meddling. Yet, it was something else entirely to see the thing in the flesh. The way it was grotesquely and obscenely slithering along his arm made him always shiver in revulsion. It was ugly, depraved and evil. With one look at it, she would finally understand who was seated in front of her. She would be no longer be able to give in to any illusion about who he really was. It would break that delicate connection that had formed between them and that he seemed surprisingly unwilling to give up.

It had been utterly delicious to have her eyes rake lovingly over his tall frame, to see her devour his hands with her eyes and fingers. He would never forget this as long as he lived, he vowed to himself.

Still, common sense won out. If he revealed his arm and scared her off for good, it would take care of the problem as a whole; he would not be risking crossing the student-teacher-boundary anymore. It was the only way to go, although something inside him broke at the thought of giving this up.

Taking a deep breath, he resigned himself to his fate, opening the buttons on his left sleeve wandlessly before closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of his chair.


A/N: So, how is Hermione going to react? Aren't you just dying to find out? Me, too!
So review and find out! Bribe the muse!