Author's Note

I finally have a beta to catch my spelling and/or grammar errors. Thank you, hpfanfictionreader! You're wonderful :)

Sorry for the long delay, I spent the last month moving from Italy to Romania and making a bit of a vacation out of it along the way. This chapter does mention rape (not involving Hermione), so please be advised. That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please let me know what you think!

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.

Ch 17: Trust

Hermione's tongue swirled, circling the crown of Snape's thick cock like she was enjoying a lolly. In a way, she was. Except instead of a sugar rush, she was bingeing on the little noises filling the room that he couldn't quite smother while she pleasured him.

One of her hands gripped the base of his length while the other cradled his balls, gently massaging their hefty weight. He twitched in her grasp, and Hermione sensed he was straining to remain still while she worked him over. Already he'd bucked quickly into her mouth a few times, the tip bumping the back of her throat. She could tell he wanted to let go and use her mouth freely, but she appreciated his restraint, still being relatively new to this sort of thing.

"Ugh," he groaned, threading his fingers lightly through her curls, hips shifting just enough to indicate his increasing desire to be encased inside the wet heat of her mouth.

She readily complied, swallowing him further and pressing her tongue against a vein protruding along his shaft, rubbing over it enticingly. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked, pulling on him unrelentingly. He tasted musky and clean and so very Snape that her senses spun as though on a vibrant carousel with flashing lights, constant movement, and a riot of brilliant colour.

"Granger, ah, so…umm good," he moaned, as inarticulate as he usually gave her a hard time for becoming when they were together.

It was getting easier to take him deeper. Practice over the last month had lent her confidence, and she had familiarised her facial muscles with stretching in such a way to accommodate his wide girth and impressive length.

Her fist squeezed the base harder, following her retreating mouth to stroke him firmly while her tongue lapped at the tip. The muscles in her throat worked, swallowing the salty precum leaking from the slit before she sucked him down again, taking even more of him than she previously had.

"Ah," he gasped, his length twitching and his hips jerking helplessly at the suddenness of her actions.

Hermione stared up at Snape, revelling in the way his head fell back and tendons stood out taunt as bowstrings in his neck. His hands shook as they carded through her hair, returning to cup her head gently. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to seeing him come undone like this, or the knowledge she was the one unravelling him.

The knowledge left her aching and needy. Her own body responded, readying automatically for a welcome invasion. Her thighs quivered, and she pressed them together in a vain attempt to apply pressure where she most craved it.

"I'm close." The warning was raspy with barely suppressed desire. Hermione felt the way his balls tightened in preparation, so she hummed her approval, noticing that he shuddered at the feel of the vibrations surrounding him.

Easing back to suck only the head, Hermione used her fist to pump his shaft, holding him tighter than before. He didn't stop her as he usually did at this point. Rather, he released her head to grip the armrests of his chair and lifted his hips, releasing jets of salty seed that filled her mouth, splashing hotly against the back of her throat.

Hermione took it all, swallowing quickly and continuing to stroke him until after he finished, his member softening slightly, and his hands returning to stroking through her curls, brushing them back from her flushed face. Only then did she let him slip from her mouth, and she realised how breathless she was.

For the last several weeks, she'd frequently taken Snape into her mouth, but this was the first time he'd let her go to his completion, usually preferring to pull her up and slam home before his release. Not that she minded. But this had been interesting, and something she planned to insist he allow her to do again in the future.

Not a day had gone by since Halloween that they had not been intimate, apart from the night before, but there had been far more pressing concerns happening then and reasons why it hadn't been appropriate. Each time had varied in some way, making it exciting and new. Snape truly was an extraordinary teacher – and Hermione was his star pupil.

"You didn't have to," he murmured, echoing the conversation they'd had the night before. "You owe me nothing."

She disagreed about owing him, but understood he meant she didn't owe him sex as payment for his previous and continued help. It was very important to him that she acknowledge this. Especially now.

"I know. You can always say no too," she replied, appreciating the frankness of this dialogue. After yesterday, it felt necessary.

"I won't say no to you," he answered quietly, letting emotion paint a wide stroke across the words in such a vivid colour that it was impossible to miss.

But she blinked, internally chastising herself for reading more than the obvious. It was just sex. For both of them. A welcome outlet when one was most necessary. She repeated that as she sat further back on her heels, slightly dizzy from her still rapid pulse and quick breathes, and bumped her head against the underside of his desk in the process.

"Ow," she whined, reaching to rub the spot, but Snape's hand was already there, tenderly probing it as he chuckled softly. "You rarely ever laugh," she commented, accepting the hand he held out to help her stand.

"You should try being amusing and perhaps I would," he countered dryly.

Hermione froze for an instant, half crouching between Snape and the Headmaster's desk. Then it dawned on her that he was teasing in that acerbic way of his that most people mistook for ridicule.

The realisation had her laughing openly as well as she moved to perch on the edge of his desk, propping her feet on the armrests of his chair, the position one she'd taken to assuming whenever possible. He seemed to like admiring her and having free access to touch her wherever he desired. At once, as though reading her mind – without Legilimency – his hands began tracing over her calves lazily.

"I'll keep that in mind," she drawled, mimicking his infamous tone.

"Indeed." A relaxed smile curled his lips, transforming him.

When she'd arrived not even twenty minutes ago, he'd been seething. Still furious, actually – more furious – with a few of the sixth year Slytherins over their appalling physical abuse of a younger Ravenclaw witch during a detention the night before when they'd taken licence to use the Imperius Curse much too far.

The witch had been raped.

Hermione had been in the office when Snape was informed by a portrait, and he'd immediately rushed out to oversee the situation. He'd been gone for several hours, and she'd waited for him, needing to check on him because she'd known he would blame himself. Which he had done.

He'd refrained from touching her as he explained what had occurred, then asked point blank if he was taking advantage of her in a similar way. They'd spoken in excruciating detail that left both of them acutely aware that they were both willing participants in whatever it was they were doing with one another. Then he'd asked her to leave so that he could handle the situation. Meaning he needed to speak with other members of staff, and couldn't with her around.

Hermione felt as though she should have predicted the natural progression that would eventually occur. It was the inevitable next step when physical violence was being not only condoned, but encouraged. Humans had a tendency to devolve into primal beasts in times of war, believing that allowing baser instincts to rule their actions was acceptable. This was not the first time she'd heard of otherwise rational and decent men taking advantage of women with their superior strength during times of unrest – and no one could say those following Voldemort were either rational or decent. The proof was right there in the fact that they were having teenagers use Unforgivables on one another. What did they expect to happen?

The fifth year Ravenclaw was still in the hospital wing, and both Harry and Ron had been fussing over Ginny and Luna, respectively. A number of students had been discussing what happened in the Room throughout the day, word having gotten around during breakfast. The staff spent the whole day shutting down gossip and refusing to say more than an announcement would be made the following morning.

Curiosity over the announcement had sent Hermione to Snape's office earlier than normal, and when she'd arrived, he'd been so worked up, saying little more than the staff were coming for an emergency meeting in an hour to discuss new school policies and to reiterate that she was under no obligation to shag him.

She'd realised then that he didn't plan on touching her again until after she initiated some form of contact. But given his agitation and the time constraint, she'd done the first thing she'd thought of to try and help sooth him and reassure him that their situation was vastly different. A blow job. Apparently, it'd worked – so long as he wasn't thinking about the other incident.

She could tell the second he remembered. His expression crumpled like a used tissue folding in on itself.

"Thank you," he said gravely, giving her calves a meaningful squeeze.

"You never have to thank me. I get just as much from this as I give," she replied honestly. She leaned back on her hands a bit, making her chest jut out temptingly, hoping the sight would distract him even if only for a moment.

November had just faded into early winter as it shed its browned leaves and light snow began to fall. The end of the war was no closer than it had been a month ago, and yet, she was hanging in there – in large part, due to Snape. She could only hope she was doing as much for him. The fact he'd actually said as much during their talk the night before was rather strong evidence to confirm she was.

The days had blurred together, blending into one like ink dripped into a glass of water, fingers reaching out and spreading throughout until the liquid was a uniform colour. They'd all been kept so busy she'd hardly noticed the days becoming weeks. And always, Hermione looked forward to the nights she spent in this office or Snape's actual bed.

"Any news on your end?" he asked as he did every night, the events of the day prompting him to grasp at whatever hope he could find for a resolution.

"No, and there's only a few shops left in Diagon Alley – apart from Gringotts," Hermione answered reluctantly, sighing wearily, as she wished she bore different tidings. "They took today off, for obvious reasons, but they'll finish by the end of the week."

Harry had finally convinced Hermione that Voldemort's upbringing meant he would have been drawn to Diagon Alley in the same way Harry had been. So Harry and Ron had begun systematically searching the shops, thanks to the Weasley twins. The two boys had gone to WWW, under the guise of Polyjuice Potion, and convinced them to help.

Since then, they discretely searched a shop or two each day while impersonating the twins. Ron's older brothers took advantage of this time to work on inventing new products or resupplying their current stock while they hid out in their apartment. No one suspected a thing, since the twins were the only ones brash enough to still be going about Diagon Alley as usual.

She hated being the one left behind, but she understood the reasoning. She had no desire to become one of the twins, that'd just be too weird to discover firsthand what was going on beneath their robes, given her history with Ron, and she was the only one capable of making more Polyjuice. So she brewed while they searched. It also ensured that if something happened to them, there was still someone left that knew what needed to be done to take out Voldemort.

Not that she didn't suspect Harry had confessed everything to Ginny. The two seemed closer than ever, and Hermione doubted that would've happened if Harry was still keeping secrets. Though it could have been for another reason.

Twice in the last week she'd had to wait before visiting Snape because Harry had already taken the cloak. Each time he swore he was just getting a bit of air, but Hermione had a feeling he was really sneaking into the Gryffindor Tower with Ginny so they could have some time away from Ron's ever-watchful gaze.

It helped that Ron was now officially with Luna, and the Ravenclaw was doing a truly admirable job of distracting Ron when he and Harry weren't searching Diagon Alley. If only that search was proving as fortunate as the boys' love lives.

Except, they were nearly out of places to look. And Bill had flat out refused to help them search Gringotts. Probably because Harry had refused to disclose the reason he wanted Bill's help to look when they'd first approached the eldest Weasley sibling.

"And, of course, Knockturn Alley," Hermione added, not actually believing one would be there. As Ron had pointed out, it'd be too easy to accidentally get sold were it in Borgin and Burkes. "They've not even started looking there."

"Hold off on letting them visit Knockturn Alley. They'd need better disguises to venture through the darker shops," he instructed. "A great many Death Eaters loiter there these days."

"Speaking of," Hermione began, inhaling sharply and forcing herself to plough ahead when Snape's hand trailed up to touch along her inner thighs, renewing her earlier desire for him, "I meant to ask ages ago, but got derailed… Who is the most trusted Death Eater?"

"None. The Dark Lord trusts no one," Snape answered flatly, not even pausing to consider.

"Who would he favour with a treasured possession meant to be kept safe?"

"Once, I would have said the Malfoys, but that's no longer the case. Usually, it is myself or Bella, but I can tell you now he's given me no Horcrux to protect."

Snape sounded so certain. Yet hadn't Harry insisted that Voldemort thought of Hogwarts as his home? And hadn't he trusted the place into Snape's keeping? Was Harry right all along?

Hermione considered his words. Harry was convinced Voldemort would try to hide something here at the castle. Could there really be one that Dumbledore never found? The idea suddenly held more merit.

"Can Potter think of anywhere else? If not…." He left the sentence unfinished. Hermione didn't need him to voice the outcome. They were both all too aware of what would happen if Harry failed to locate all of the Horcruxes before Voldemort caught up with him.

"We're running out of ideas. The only place Harry can think of that we haven't searched at all is Godric's Hollow," Hermione said, letting her frustration leak into her voice.

Snape's hands stilled. "Potter, for once, is correct. There is a Horcrux there."

"What? How long have you known about this? Why—" she demanded, staring at him incredulously. He knew the location of a Horcrux, but kept the information to himself? Why? There had to be a reason.

He watched her, lips pursed. His silence gave her time to recall all the times he'd proven that she could trust him. Nothing had changed that. So why—

"For me. For my sake…because…because of Harry. Because…you didn't want me to have to lie to him," she mused, slowly puzzling out his logic in sitting on the information. It was rather thoughtful, but then, she'd discovered a number of similar secret traits about Snape in recent months. "Thank you."

Snape exhaled loudly. Had he expected a different reaction from her? A few months ago, maybe. But she'd always been practical, seeing the logic behind decisions, not just the choices themselves.

"The Dark Lord knows Potter wishes to go there. Nagini is waiting for him in disguise to catch him unawares," Snape answered smoothly, relaxing infinitesimally, though not returning to where he'd been immediately after she'd sucked him off.

"A trap. That makes sense." Of course he was trying to capture Harry. He'd not been seen since their break-in at the Ministry, and that had been two months ago. Harry's continued success in evading Voldemort couldn't be sending the right message to the vile wizard's followers.

"I also didn't tell you because Dumbledore indicated that you already knew the snake needed to be saved for the end, once the others were destroyed," Snape continued, still relatively tense for some reason. "It might have seemed tempting to seek whatever success was possible when the rest of the search wasn't going as planned."

"Yes, that's right – on both counts," she agreed. Killing the snake would alert Voldemort to what they were up to. "I'll talk Harry out of it until the last minute."

"I don't want you anywhere near that cursed place. Ever," Snape said stiffly, shocking her from her thoughts.

"What? But we'll have to go eventually. Nagini has to die," Hermione argued, confused.

"Please, Granger. Promise me. I will help you figure something else out, just don't go there while he yet lives," Snape demanded, startling her with the depth of his insistence and his touch, because his hands had snapped out to frame her face, forcing her to look only at him and see how serious he was.

"All…all right. I promise," she agreed, finding his vehemence incomprehensible. Searching his face for motivations proved a fruitless endeavour. His thoughts were as opaque as ever, guarded more solidly than treasure in a bank vault.

Then Snape was kissing her, pouring every baffling emotion he was apparently feeling just then into her. His hands cradled her face as he stood. Hermione spread her legs wider for him, allowing him into the V. As his mouth pressed harder, she opened to him, granting him the access his actions demanded.

Her arms had just gone around his shoulders, using the broad expanse to anchor herself when his fingers ghosted down to find the button of her pants. He fumbled with it, too distracted by spearing his tongue deeper into her mouth, when a pointed cough sounded from a portrait.

Snape straightened at once, tearing his mouth away so swiftly that it left her bereft of more than just oxygen. She was less capable of shutting down her rioting emotions, and she had to stifle a disappointed groan as she let her head drop forward to rest against his chest while she caught her breath.

The deliberate cough came again, and this time Snape ran his fingers along her arms, silently requesting that she relinquish her hold and allow him to tidy his appearance.

Ah yes. Part of the reason he'd let her finish him quickly with only a hasty blow job earlier. There wasn't time for more tonight.

"The staff meeting. If the matter weren't so pressing…but it can't wait," he added apologetically.

"I know," she sighed, easing off the desk and putting a bit of space between them. "I'm sure you already plan to, but use the Carrows' and Slytherins' arrogance against them as support for your reasoning when you forbid it from happening again."

"You're so certain that I will take a stand in this when I haven't in the other matters?"

"Yes," she answered simply. Snape would not condone another female student to be at the mercy of his Slytherins – or any student – ever again. He was far too honourable.

"I will never allow anything like that to happen again," he vowed.

"I believe you."

Hermione had just reached the door when he spoke again, saying, "You've your pick of wizards if you're in need of release yourself."

He didn't really mean it. He couldn't truly be suggesting she sleep with someone else merely because he was busy tonight, as if she couldn't handle going a few days without. Did he want her to find someone else? Not that it mattered, since she wasn't interested. But was he getting tired of her, or did he think she was getting tired of him? Or was this just his subtle, sly way of asking her that very thing? Or, quite possibly, this was again a reference to her feeling pressured to sleep with him. Was he still worried? Did he honestly not—

"Hmph."

The sound prompted her to blink, realising she'd been overthinking as she was prone to do. Her thoughts were a crisscross of cables forming a web that often trapped her within, but this time she slipped from their confines, guided by Snape's intangible, yet powerful hold on her.

"I'm having sex with you because that's precisely what I need and want. Release, not frustration," she said pointedly, hoping that made her stance on the matter crystal clear. For her, it was him or no one at all – at least for now. "Besides, none of them are interested. They don't see me as a witch. And certainly not one they wish to shag." She wasn't sure why she added the last, apart from it being the truth.

"Further proof to support my ongoing assertion that they are all, every last one of them, dunderheads," Snape remarked casually.

She just barely caught a glimpse of his smirk before he turned his head so that his long hair concealed most of it.

Rather than ask why he'd mentioned others, considering she already knew he'd only give her some sarcastic retort – one she wouldn't believe – she murmured, "Good luck with your meeting."