NOTE

Warning for intense sex, with slightly dubious consent. Wilma's trauma makes certain moments difficult as well.

42. Touch

Thanks to the Dreamless Sleep, I woke the next morning with a rested mind and body. I sat across from Severus quietly over breakfast, feeling the distant thudding of my heartbeat, the hesitation in my blood. After the morning meal we went our separate ways for the rest of the day. It was for the best–whenever we were together, we ran the risk of arguing.

A storm rolled in. I spent an hour in the storeroom, another hour reading in the library. Before lunch I went to the hospital wing to tell Poppy that I would need her to perform an examination for the Ministry that night. She told me she would stay awake until I came to her.

I sat with Luna and Neville at lunch, and Severus kept his distance, not looking at me. In the early afternoon the storm abated, and birds flew across the damp sky. After walking uselessly around the castle for some time, I went down the hill to Hagrid's house. "I was just wishing for some help," he said when he saw me. I spent the rest of the day helping him in his garden. The work made my arms burn, pulling up new weeds that had taken root, but it thoroughly distracted me from my mounting nervousness.

Then, all too soon, the day was over, and Hagrid went inside to wash up for dinner. I climbed up towards the castle and sat on the hill, watching the sunset. I realised as the sun sank and the pine trees on the hills turned black, that I'd inadvertently been holding my hands in fists. I released them and took a few deep breaths before going inside for dinner.

Again I sat with Luna and Neville, but this time Severus was more watchful. I glanced at him a few times, but always looked away quickly. There was something in his gaze that frightened me. When the meal was over he approached me in the entryway.

"Nine o'clock," he said.

"Yes," I answered.

He nodded deeply, and I gave him my hand, which he kissed before he went away.

I climbed the stairs with a storm in my belly.

I had an hour to prepare. I took a long warm shower, cleaning myself thoroughly. When I stepped out I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stood in front of it for a minute. I was surprised to understand that I was actually quite concerned with my appearance. I hadn't been for a long time. I studied my own body, the lean muscle I'd gained from all of the flying. I stroked the soft skin of my own arm and pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat. Then I turned away.

I dried my body and my hair, and dressed in my pyjamas and socks. It was already five minutes to nine, and there was nothing left to do but go downstairs.

It felt very dark in the castle. The shadows were deep from the wavering light of the candles. A wind howled outside, but there was no threat that the storm would return. I shivered as I walked down the stairs from the main entryway, sharply feeling the slight difference in temperature.

I came to his door and stood in front of it. I could feel myself shaking, the dryness in my mouth, the anxious pounding of my heartbeat. I took a moment to compose myself. I would be less nervous as soon as I was with him.

Before I could hold back longer, I knocked on the door.

Severus answered it after two moments. He was wearing his dark blue dressing gown, and had a very sincere look about him as he stepped aside to let me in. I felt his eyes in a way I hadn't before, and the awareness made my body heat up. I didn't know what to expect, how to act.

He closed the door softly. There was only the sound of the crackling fire. I noticed an open door which led from the office room to his bedroom, and glimpsed the bed through it. I looked at him, not knowing what to say

"Would you like tea?" he asked.

I breathed deeply, so my voice wouldn't shake. "Yes, please." I was grateful for the opportunity to wait a little longer.

He poured hot water from a kettle in the fire, and I peered again towards the bedroom as he prepared a cup. I took it from him carefully–it was piping hot.

"I also have this," he said. "For when you're finished." He held up a dark blue vial to the firelight and I recognised it as the potion he'd given me for my consummation with Remus.

"Thank you," I said, my voice weak.

The tea was too hot to sip, so I found myself worrying my lower lip. "May I?" I asked, looking towards the bedroom, thinking I had better make things less difficult for him.

He nodded silently, once.

I went across his office, holding the tea close to my chest, and stood in the bedroom doorway, looking for a moment before I stepped inside.

A wide white bed occupied most of the space in the room. There was also a bedside table, a small chest, and a bookshelf. A small fire burned, and the window curtains were open, letting in a deep blue darkness.

I went to the bookshelf, reading the spines in the flickering light. Anna Karenina… Great Expectations… Jane Eyre… I didn't know any of the titles, but I recognised the name of Charles Dickens. All of these must be novels by muggle authors.

"You're welcome to them," Severus said. He was standing against the wall by the doorway.

I smiled at him wordlessly. I remembered how he had recognised the puzzle I'd been doing at the Burrow as a painting by Monet. I was curious why he was so interested in muggle art, but decided to save the question for later.

Finally able to slowly sip the tea, I knelt down to read more of the titles. On the bottom shelf I saw a dusty old copy of The Iliad.

I laughed lightly at the coincidence.

"Recognise something?" Severus asked.

I took The Iliad from the shelf and held it out to him. He took the book in his hand, and an indecipherable look came into his face.

"Keep it," he said, holding it out for me to take. I was a bit surprised. I had guessed, from his eyes, that the book may have been important to him.

"Th–thank you," I managed. I took it in my hands and touched it more carefully. I set it back on the shelf, to return to later.

Soon the tea was gone, and there was no way to delay further. I thanked Severus when he took my empty cup and carried it back into his office, and breathed slowly, watching him move. I recalled how he had worn the same dressing gown on that night when I'd come to him in agony. Then, it had made him less intimidating. But now it made him more so.

I controlled my face as he returned with the dark blue vial. I uncorked it, my hands trembling slightly. I distinctly remembered the scent of copper and earth. This will make it alright, I told myself. I began to raise it to my lips, but then I wondered whether Severus would have some as well. He'd initially made it for himself, after all.

"Are you having any?" I asked.

"No," he said.

I nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed, but not too badly. If he could make it through without it, all the better. But it was like medicine to me. I knew I needed it. I pressed the small glass opening to my lips and drank it in one swallow.

Again his hand was ready to take the empty vial from me, and I allowed him, feeling even more nervous as he went into his office again. I stood watching him. There was no physical sensation when the potion took effect, and I feared irrationally that it wouldn't work. I pressed my mind towards thoughts of Remus, but there was a gentle foggy barrier around all of those memories. I felt a bit more secure.

When he entered again, he was carrying a small wooden bowl of something in both hands.

"What's that?" I asked.

His face was guarded, as usual, but I thought I saw the very faintest colour rise to it. "Something I'd like to do, to calm you further," he said. "If you will allow me."

My chest tightened as he softly set the bowl on the bedside table. He turned and considered me for a moment, and then his hand slowly offered itself to me. I could see the line of muscle in his forearm where the loose sleeve of his dressing gown shifted, and the shadows which deepened his gesture.

My heart sped up, but my feet moved of their own accord. I approached him slowly, feeling myself shrink a little as I came closer.

I hadn't had the need until now to take note of our physical differences. But for the first time I sensed with my whole being how much stronger he was than me, how much taller. His hand moved towards me and I trembled. There was intent and ability in each knuckle, each fingertip. I looked at him helplessly as he gently stroked my face, and shifted my hair away from my shoulders.

I felt my breath wavering. His fingertips lightly touched the fabric of my shirt, and then he began to undo my buttons. In no time I'd gone numb, looking blankly at the wall.

He stopped what he was doing and very gently touched my chin. I looked at him, trying to hide the fear from my eyes.

"This is safe," he said. His deep voice only made me tremble more, but I nodded. I would do my best not to drift away again.

Slowly each button came undone, and the soft cloth revealed a vulnerable line of skin down the centre of my body. I could feel Severus's careful breathing as his hands glided over my collarbones, and the shirt slipped away from my shoulders, fluttering to the floor.

Breathless, I watched him take me in. Then he slowly knelt down to untie my trousers. They fell softly around my ankles, and I stepped out of them. Supporting me, he lifted one foot, and then the other, slipping off my socks. I wanted to speak, but I didn't know what to say.

Severus leaned forward and kissed my hip bones, one and then the other. Then his thumbs hooked over my knickers, and he very slowly slid them off. I looked down, my face hot with unexpected anticipation. His hands stroked my body wonderfully, his touch sending chills through my belly as he caressed my lower back, and ran his hands down my legs. Frederica had not exaggerated his tenderness, and I was startled to realise that I actually felt a bit aroused. He kissed my hips again, and I felt my mouth fall open in a silent gasp. I held onto his shoulder to keep from stumbling.

Just as a wave of comfort had peaked within me, I was soon anxious again. I found his hands and held them, and he obeyed my unspoken wish, standing up. Shaking, I reached forward to untie his nightgown. His patient, tantric touches left me feeling immature and unskilled. But I did my best to move my hands slowly, softly, as I undid the silken tie.

His eyes were unrevealing as he watched, but I could sense the emotion behind them, and didn't scorn him for his guardedness. I was the same.

He was wearing nothing at all underneath the dressing gown, but when I slipped the fabric off his shoulders and cast it aside, I noticed something that kept me from flushing hopelessly.

I had never spotted it before, and it was suddenly made visible in the firelight. A slight white relief against the skin on his neck. Scars.

I wasn't sure, but guessed they were from the final battle, when he had nearly died from the attack of Voldemort's snake. So that was why he always wore turtlenecks.

Led by a blossoming empathy, my fingertips lifted to touch the thin white crescents. But Severus stopped my hand, gently restraining my wrist. "Don't," he said quietly. I understood.

My eyes were drawn then to the shrunken white scar on his inner left forearm. Where the dark mark had once been. To look at what remained was to feel the world of pain it held. I looked up at him, wanting to touch it, wanting to give it warmth. His face was hard, and I sensed that he was wary of me, but he allowed it.

Softly I touched his skin, letting myself gently explore the scar. The slightly raised area was cool to the touch, but I also sensed the warmth of his arm through my fingertips. The strength, the control. I lifted my eyes to his, but hadn't expected him to be looking back. There was a whirlpool of emotions in his eyes. Haunted regret, and a very unusual self-consciousness. I felt my heart expand as I saw a tear roll slowly down his face. I reached up to touch it, and he winced as I did, but did not draw away.

His vulnerability made me more vulnerable myself. Now we were both fully naked.

I held his arm and pressed my warm hand over the scar, accepting it, forgiving it. As I did so, his gaze softened. There was no word for the look in his eyes, but it made me feel… innocent. He looked at me like I was small and precious, not to be harmed. His eyes promised me that he would be careful with me, that he would guide me.

I gave him more control as I let him lead me towards the edge of the bed. He lifted me so that I could sit, my toes barely brushing the floor.

I watched as he went to the bowl he'd carried into the room, and let his fingers sink into it. They withdrew, shining. It looked like a kind of oil or salve. He rubbed it into his hands, and then gently knelt down to hold my calf, massaging it. I felt my whole body grow warm and relaxed, and watched with watering eyes as he performed his silent ministrations.

The oil was smooth and soothing on my skin, and had a deep herbal aroma. The pressure of Severus's hands was heavenly. He was making me feel cherished, and I wasn't sure I deserved it. Still, I tried to stay with him as he touched me so gently, so deeply.

He began with my legs, holding the weight of my thighs as his fingers sought out and gently followed the lines of my muscles, lowering me again when he needed more from the bowl. All the way down to my ankles and arches. My breath hitched when his thumbs drew circles around my hip bones. He stroked my back, and my belly, and my ribs, and then my breasts, making me shudder. I couldn't hide from him, and he held every part of me without judgement–in fact, with fondness.

He lavished the same gentleness on my arms, and then, ever so carefully, my neck. He knew it was a sensitive place, and I felt overwhelmed as he caressed it tenderly, causing no pain there, but instead a tingling warmth.

I saw a powerful masculine desire pooling in his eyes, as plain to see as the bloodlust of a tiger. But he acted on it with softness, and I was miraculously unafraid. His fingertips touched my lips, and he kissed my temples.

I felt myself reflecting this unexpected desire which was radiating from him. Tentatively at first, and then with more confidence, I stroked his hair. As soft as dove feathers. His soft groan set my warm skin alight, and I was overcome by a need to return what he had given.

"I want to touch you, too," I breathed. I kept holding onto him as he drew up again, and I rose onto my knees to be level with him. He watched me closely, waiting to see what I would do.

I reached over to the bowl, which was nearly empty now, and rubbed the warm oil into my own hands. Reaching out, I rubbed it into his chest and shoulders, feeling the relief that was brought to his muscles as I did so. Then, pulling him closer, I wrapped my arms around him and massaged his lower back, feeling him lean slightly against me as I did, his hands hovering over my shoulder blades. Very carefully, with a new palmful of oil, I touched his member, which was now very swollen. I felt him shudder, groaning as I grasped him. Holding him in my hand caused a surge of nervousness in my belly. He wouldn't be easy to take.

He stopped my hands after another moment, holding my wrists. He appeared to be restraining himself as much as he was me. He slid his arm underneath my knees, shifting me to sit on the edge of the bed again. Although far from unmoved by my attentions, he seemed more comfortable giving than receiving.

He turned partly away, one hand still resting on my leg, and curled two fingers into the bowl. My stomach heated up and my heart jumped. A wave of awareness rolled deeply through me. I knew what would happen now.

Eyes incredibly deep, he nudged my knees apart. I complied, already trembling. He leaned over me, and his lips parted as his fingers found my folds, and began to rub slow, firm circles against me. I closed my eyes and covered my open mouth with my elbow, suddenly wanting to hide. But Severus gently moved my arm away. He held me up, kissing my neck as he slid his fingers into me.

I moaned helplessly at the feeling, my hips trembling. My back arched as he curled his fingers inside of me, gently stretching my walls.

"God…" he moaned, his breath warm against my neck. I shuddered and whimpered, and Severus braced his knee against the bed, moving me backward so I was lying down. His fingers reached deeper, and a low grunt caught in my throat as I tried to control my breathing.

He was hovering over me now. I could feel the power of his body, the waiting, the inevitability of it. A helpless, hot pressure coiled between my legs. I wanted to surrender to the feeling, and my fingers went to his hair again, needing his pleasure in order to feel my own. He shuddered as I gently touched his head, and seemed to say something, but the syllables were lost in a soft murmuring breath.

"What?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He groaned again, and I whimpered as his fingers moved slowly, worshipfully. His face was as I had never seen it, open and helpless. I could have fallen into his eyes. "You… are divine."

The sound of his voice drove through me, and I gasped as he withdrew his fingers, beginning to knead those mind-breaking circles again. I felt how wet I was, and the sensation brought me both inexplicable shame and pleasure.

His praise made me feel better, but I was still incredibly nervous. The fog in my mind remained strong and protective, but I imagined that I glimpsed terrible things through it, where it grew thin. I felt my body shaking uncontrollably, straining against itself as the moment of union became inevitable.

Severus moved his hand under my lower back, and with the other caressed my chest. His hand was big, and I felt incredibly aroused as his palm rubbed over my nipples. Then both of his thumbs went to the task, and a high, uninhibited moan fell out of me.

My breath was coming more quickly. His hand moved down between my legs again, and I finally let my knees lay open to him. His hips sank down towards me. I was throbbing.

His eyes melted into me, and his voice was deep and strained. "May I?"

"Yes," I said, and I realised with surprise that I was begging.

My eyes slipped closed as I felt him slide against my folds, and slowly, so slowly, begin to push inside of me. His fingertips found my lips and touched them lovingly. I was breathing quietly, my body softly jolting in response to his intrusion. I cried out weakly from the ache as he entered further, the sound lost under that of his deep, overwhelming moan.

His size was more intense than I'd expected, and he seemed to know it. He went slowly and carefully, giving me time to adjust as he held himself back. The lubrication provided by the oil helped me cope, and soon he was buried deep inside of me.

Half of me was in his arms and half of me was elsewhere. Half of me felt immense pleasure, and half of me felt nothing.

His hands enveloped my body, gathering me closer to him. "Wilma…" he whispered. My heart was racing against his chest, and he flexed involuntarily inside of me as he rocked us backward and forward for the first time.

It was overpowering. Despite the help of the potion, the sensation awakened a physical memory that was unpleasant. The confusion that came from being unable to pin down the memory only made it worse. An anxious sound escaped my mouth.

"Shh…" Severus murmured, stroking my face gently. I allowed myself to be calmed, and relaxed so that he could continue his slow, considerate movements.

Hot red guilt clouded my mind, as I felt my thoughts fading, and the sensation attempting to leave my body. He was being unbelievably lovely, and I was simply unable to reciprocate. The minutes before had gone so beautifully, but now that he was inside of me I didn't know how to give back, how to find the balance we'd had for a few brief moments.

My eyes were damp, and I realised that tears were leaking from the corners. Severus saw them and kissed them away. I sensed that he wanted to stop, wanted to speak, but I tightened my grip on his arm, urging him to keep going.

He set a slow pace, thrusting gently, but it was still too much. The effort it took to surrender was making me feel frayed and broken. My head was spinning from the omnipresent heat of his body, and a nauseous feeling rose up in me, painfully entwined with strong arousal.

In a moment of disassociation, I didn't know where I was. My pounding heartbeat was all I could hear. I desperately held him, giving a soft cry of fear, and slowly his face came into focus. He looked into my eyes. "It's alright," he murmured. "It's alright."

I nodded, and rolled my hips once to encourage him. His strong hand caressed my body, long and slow, as he started again. I was exhausted and miserable, and wanted it to stop, but I knew we had to finish–he had to finish. I was resolved to help him through as quickly as I could, even though it would hurt me.

I held him tighter, the insides of my knees caressing his sides as I lifted my legs and hooked my ankles behind his back, shaking as he sank deeper into me. He groaned with a tremendous effort to control himself. The position was intense, and I was reduced to trembling moans and whimpers as he inevitably grew rougher. He dissolved completely as he grew closer, and then he came, grinding hard against my centre. He twitched and pulsed inside of me, his semen filling me. I felt my heartbeat skyrocket. My senses became painfully sharp, and the room spun. There was a deep ache inside of my heart.

He clung to me tightly, sighing deeply until he was spent. His lips pressed gently against my face. Softly his hand slipped down between our bodies and found my folds again, but I pushed his shoulder away, unable to bear it. "No– No more," I pleaded, blinded by my tears.

Severus was still halfway lost in bliss, but my plea seemed to bring him back to earth. He withdrew from me at once, his face full of worry. I turned onto my side and moved out from underneath him, escaping to the edge of the bed. I cradled myself, unable to stop shaking. It was not because of anything Severus had done, but I felt wounded.

I sensed his body shift towards mine, and his hand touched my arm. I wanted to lean into his hand, but instead I stood up, steadying myself on my shaking legs, hiding my face as I went to pick up my pyjamas.

I'd spent the last week treading on eggshells around him, believing him to be hard and distant and cold. He had just proved himself the opposite. Shame made my throat tight. I was the distant one. I was the difficult one.

Severus was deeply silent for a moment. My hands were shaking so hard that I struggled to put my shirt on. My body was still mourning the space he'd held inside of me, struggling to catch up to my mind, to understand why I hadn't allowed him to pleasure me to the end. A tingling awareness of his body gripped every part of me. I pressed my hand to my head for a moment. The fog of the potion was still strong, but I now almost wished I hadn't taken it. It was making me feel confused, not understanding why everything felt so painful and dangerous.

Severus slowly stood from the bed, and put on his dressing gown. I felt tears sliding down my face as he came towards me and helped me to put on my pyjamas, tying my bottoms and buttoning up my shirt. My hands were too weak.

His silence made me fear that he was upset with me. "I'm sorry…" I whispered, keeping myself from sobbing.

I looked at him and realised that he was not angry, but deeply concerned. His voice was rough when he spoke, and I saw the guardedness coming into his eyes again. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," I cried, hanging my head.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I breathed, full of despair. It was too hard to explain.

"Wilma–"

"I'll go and see Poppy."

I desperately pulled my socks on. I stood up and tried to turn but Severus held me back, his hand around my arm.

His eyes were imploring. "Stay for a minute. Let me go with you."

"I'm fine," I pleaded, in a breaking voice. He folded me into him, his arm around my waist. I tried to push him away but he was too strong. My suddenly strengthless limbs were useless against him. "I can't," I whispered.

His hand moved to my head, cradling it. There was a mourning tone in his voice. "Wilma..."

I moaned like an ill child at his closeness, his confusing gentleness. I felt afraid as I realised he could easily force me to stay if he wished. Half of me wanted to be held, to be filled again and dragged over the edge, but the other half resisted, terrified.

"Let me go," I begged.

He held me for a moment longer, but then his arm loosened and I escaped to the doorway. I looked at him for a moment, the pain in his eyes piercing directly through me like a long blade. I could tell he wanted to hold me, to keep me, but he kept himself back. I yearned to somehow communicate what I was going through, but I was unable. Pressing my hand to my mouth to hold back sobs, I turned and rushed from the room.