Five

Hermione did not know how long she had remained up on the castle battlements. When she finally came to her senses she was freezing, shivering relentlessly, and it took all her remaining strength to stagger back inside. Eventually reaching her room, she quickly lit a fire and felt feeling and warmth slowly return to her icy limbs.

She had cried her emotion out, and now, like her body had been, her mind felt strangely numb.

What now?

The kiss had seared itself onto her soul. Despite his words and the conversation in which she had almost given up on him, she knew now she could not. She would not let him go. She was sure he did not want her to. He could not have kissed her like that and not wanted ... something.

Something.

It seemed so strange; after the intensity of the conversation on the battlements, where they had laid themselves bare for the other, and the kiss which had revealed the deepest needs of them both, she was unsure how to proceed. She could not imagine the next step. The situation had happened so rapidly, had taken them both so much by surprise that she almost expected a return to their familiar institutional roles of student and teacher.

But this was not the end, merely the beginning, but such an extraordinary beginning that she had no way of envisaging the future. Hermione did not feel she could go to his rooms, and was certain he would not come to her, but the anticipation of what lay ahead filled her with urgent lust.

In spite of the cold which had numbed them, her lips still tingled with the memory of his kiss, so violent and desperate, as if he was trying to imprint himself on her, and she on him. As she lay under her covers she felt him again, pressing urgently against her, the hardness between his legs further proof of his need for her. She could not forget that. She would not. Her physical desire for him was filling her mind and body, making her almost shake with need. Her skin was primed, desperate for his touch.

Images sprang to her mind. Hermione closed her eyes tight and pictured him above her, pounding into her over and over, filling her, bursting into her, making her cry out with his violent ardour. She realised her fingers were rubbing frantically over her swollen clit. She did not stop, focusing on the face in her mind, the imagined feel of him inside, and she came violently, crying out into her silent room.

Her orgasm gave her some peace from the agony of what had passed between them, and she at last was able to drift into a troubled slumber.

She woke early, and after getting ready and checking her appearance carefully, she hurried down to breakfast.

He wasn't there. Neither did he appear as the meal wore on. Hermione felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. But her spirits rose as her third lesson approached – Potions.

She hurried to the dungeons and sat near the front, trying to appear nonchalant. There was an unbearable, burning ache inside her, and as she closed her eyes, his image came to her mind, his eyes boring into her. Her stomach clenched with pleasure. She could hardly suppress a groan sounding from her.

How could she cope with a whole lesson? She had already decided to stay behind afterwards. She was reluctant to pressure him, but needed to gauge his reaction to the previous night, needed to address the flames of desire which were dictating her world. She craved him, body, mind and soul. It must go further. She knew nothing else.

There was no sign of him; all the students were assembled, waiting. Hermione at last heard the door open and the heavy, rapid tread of authoritative footsteps. Her belly somersaulted once again. She breathed deeply and glanced out of the corner of her eye at the approaching figure.

It was Professor Vector.

Nausea flooded through Hermione. She gripped the side of the table for support, her face flushing red; she struggled to suppress a gag.

No-one else seemed to have even noticed and certainly did not care that their usual teacher was not there.

Vector flicked through a book before asking the students to turn to a page in theirs.

Hermione could stand it no longer. "Where is Professor Snape?" It was blurted out. Vector looked up in surprise.

"Professor Snape had been called away. He will be away all week. Right, remedies for dragon burns. As you can see, this is a highly effective but powerful potion which ..." Her voice droned on, but Hermione had not heard a word after the first two sentences. The nausea which had been brewing threatened to overwhelm her. She was desolate, despairing ... angry. How dare he? How dare he deprive her ... deprive himself? She sat for a few minutes longer, but then knew she could stay no more.

Standing swiftly, she excused herself with a mumble and hurried from the room. She ran as fast as she could from the dungeons and out of the castle. She did not want to be anywhere near the place; he was not there.

Hermione did not return all day but simply walked. The initial anger she had felt dispersed and she was left with an aching hollowness.

His absence provoked a claustrophobic frustration within her. She could not bear the thought of him not being there. How could she survive without the knowledge of his presence somewhere within the castle grounds? It would have been bad enough without the events of last night, but now ... She knew that he had left because of that. He had run from it, from her. She leant against a tree and forced back the tears prickling behind her eyes.

It was dark by the time she returned to the castle. Walking into dinner, she sat at the table sullenly, not saying a word to her companions.

"Hermione! Where have you been? We were worried when you left Potions early."

"I'm fine. I've been out, that's all."

"You look like you've been pulled through a hedge backwards. Are you alright?" As their meals arrived, Ginny turned to her in concern.

Hermione nodded briefly, prodding the food on her plate, unable to eat a mouthful. "I went for a walk."

"Gods, Hermione, it must have been some walk. You left the class so suddenly this morning. We couldn't find you anywhere afterwards."

"I felt sick."

"So you went for a walk?" Ginny was confused.

"That's right." Hermione's voice was terse, tetchy.

Ginny leaned into her friend, concerned. "'Mione. You haven't been yourself at all recently. What's going on? We haven't had a good chat for ages."

Hermione turned to face Ginny, an impassive look on her face. "I'm fine, thank you, Ginny. Sometimes we all just need some time to ourselves, don't we?" With that she stood suddenly and swept from the hall, leaving her friend dumbfounded and a little offended at the table.

The rest of the week passed torturously for Hermione. She absented herself from the castle as much as possible, going to Hogsmeade, walking in the Forest, anything to take her mind off the crawling passage of time and his absence from the castle. Nothing helped.

She forced herself to go to lessons, although they seemed more tedious and trivial than ever. The hardest of all was Potions. She had had another lesson with Vector, and it had been torture to sit in that room and endure her dreary babble and earnest suggestions for improvements. She could provide no advice for Hermione whose work was impeccable and had been achieved in half the time of the others. The final Potions lesson of the week was on Friday, and Hermione comforted herself with the knowledge that it would be the last time she would have to put up with Vector.

As usual, she sat waiting for the teacher to arrive, and after a while the door opened and she heard footsteps. Hermione breathed in a sigh, then smelt him. Her head spun round. Black robes swept in.

Snape was back early. Her heart leapt into her mouth.

He swept past without a glance in her direction and launched immediately into his introduction to the potion they were to brew that day. Hermione did not hear a word he said, merely stared at him, her breathing heavy and rapid, the ache in her belly suddenly throbbing with need.

He did not look once at her.

Hermione could not take her eyes off him. She was hardly focused on the task, but it was an easy potion and she could have done it in her sleep. But after half an hour of receiving no acknowledgement of her presence, she could stand it no longer. She must act.

She picked up a ladle, glanced up at him, and allowed it to drop with a loud clang onto the floor. She did not apologise or go after it, simply waited to hear the reprimand that was sure to follow. She got none.

Snape walked swiftly but calmly over to the ladle, picked it up silently and replaced it on her desk without getting close to her or giving her the merest hint of eye-contact. Her breathing quickened. The fire in her belly, now tinged also with anger towards him, flamed uncontrollably.

Still, he resolutely ignored her. She had to do something. She would go mad otherwise.

Calculatingly, she picked up the wrong ingredient, knowing the effect it would have, and deliberately added a large amount to her potion. It promptly exploded, creating a large hole in the cauldron and covering her in red liquid. She looked triumphantly at him. Now, now, he must speak to her, look at her ...

Snape looked over at the mess, refusing still to glance up at her, withdrew his wand, and mumbled some words. The cauldron, potion, and Hermione immediately returned to the state they had been in a few minutes before. Snape turned his back and continued to assist other students.

All other eyes in the room turned and looked in amazement at Hermione.

Hermione thought she would pass out. She was furious with him for denying her his attention. She could hardly contain herself from rushing up to him and ... her eyes closed. She would rush up to him and take his head, pull him down to her in a searing kiss. Reach up to the many buttons on his coat ...

"Hermione!" Ginny's voice whispered suddenly and insistently in her ear. Hermione turned to her in frustration at being denied her fantasy. "Can you believe that? I've never known Snape not to go mental if something like that happens! He didn't even flinch. Why the hell hasn't he asked you to stay behind?"

Hermione huffed. "I don't know. I suppose I should say something. I'll see him afterwards."

"God! I wouldn't bother if I were you. Let sleeping dogs lie and all that."

The lesson was at last coming to an end. The students tidied away their ingredients and cauldrons and gradually left the room. Snape was busy at his desk, writing swiftly and fluidly as usual. Hermione could only stare at him. She and Ginny were the last in the room. "You go ahead, Ginny. I think I'd better say sorry at least."

Ginny shrugged her shoulders and left, shutting the door behind her.

Still he did not look up. His hand continued to move frantically over the parchment, his brow furrowed in concentration. Hermione started to walk up to him, slowly and deliberately. She came around the back of his desk, stopping a mere foot away. His head remained lowered.

She spoke calmly. "Where have you been?"

He did not answer. She waited.

She repeated, more insistently, "Where have you been?"

After another age he spoke, not pausing in his writing, his voice the usual deep drawl. "I had some business to attend to at the Ministry."

"Did you have to go when you did?"

"It seemed the most appropriate time to do so."

"Did it?"

"Yes."

She paused. The tension between them was heavy and oppressive. Hermione could feel his presence burning beside her.

"I missed you."

At last the hand stopped. She could sense the tightness gripping his body. Leaning down, Hermione slowly placed her hand on top of his, encircling each finger in hers.

Immediately, he snatched his hand away from her hold and jumped up, moving rapidly round to the front of his desk, his back to her. She followed him round, coming to stand before him. He did not turn away, but neither did he look at her.

She stared up at him. His features were tight and anxious; it was not something she was used to seeing on his normally sombre visage. She slowly reached up a hand and delicately cupped it round his face. He twinged but did not flinch away. Her voice came to him, low, soothing, warm.

"Severus."

He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling increasingly rapidly.

She moved her hand down to his chest and brought her other up to join it. "I am here." She rested her fingers lightly where his top buttons started and breathed out to him, "Let me in."

Her fingers closed around the buttons and slowly started to undo them. She undid one, two, reached for the third.

Suddenly his hands flashed up, grabbing her wrists hard and pulling them off his jacket. Her eyes darted to his in alarm. He was staring intently at her now, his eyes burning into hers. Hermione was startled and gasped with shock. He must not push her away again.

He did not push her away.

Still holding her wrists, he turned her suddenly and pushed her hard against his desk, so that she lay back upon it. Snape leaned over her, his eyes roaming over her body. One hand released his hold on her to reach roughly down. Grabbing the hem of her skirt, he pulled it frantically up.

The longing inside Hermione surged, and she could not stop a gasp of surprised needful lust escaping her. Yes. Yes.

Snape spoke not a word nor hardly looked at her. He was swift and desperate and driven. He pulled her underwear down with a grunt of need and ran his hand quickly back up her leg. Despite the rapidity of his movement, it left a trail of fire in its wake. Hermione's head fell back and her mind clouded. She glanced down and saw his hand at his belt and buttons. With a swift movement he released himself from his clothing. He was at last there before her, smooth, rigid and glowing in the candles of the dungeon. Hermione only had a moment to register the sight. He was broader and longer than she would have thought. She inhaled sharply with desire.

His hands came up swiftly again, drawing themselves with sensual but rapid exploration over her naked flesh, up the insides of her thighs until they were at her very core. She sobbed with longing as she felt agile fingers parting her, surprisingly tender amidst the frantic need their bodies conveyed. But then the tenderness was banished as almost instantly he positioned himself and thrust hard and deep, fully into her.

Hermione gasped in with shock and sudden pleasure. Her eyes widened in thrilled surprise and her mouth opened in silent awe. She was jolted up the desk, knocking the parchment he had been writing on to the floor. He was pressed hard against her cervix already. He paused for a moment, the only sound in the room his heavy breathing. Hermione forced her head up to look at where they were joined. She could feel every inch of him within her. Never had she felt so full. Her mouth remained open in blissful astonishment and her eyes came up to meet his. He was staring down at her, a look almost of shock on his face. His brows were furrowed with a mixture of wonder and confusion, and his mouth was slack with pleasure. She squeezed her tight, slick walls around him and his face flinched. He inhaled sharply.

Then his hand came up to her shoulder and he gripped it hard. His other found her hip. With that he started to move. There was nothing gentle or tender about his movements. He plunged into her quickly, desperately, withdrawing almost fully each time, before driving in to the hilt. The knowledge of him filling her, pounding her, was too much for Hermione. She lay back and gave herself over to him. She had never known such deep satisfaction; at this point, she wanted him no other way.

This had been sudden and unprepared, but never had pleasure been so swiftly delivered; foreplay had been ongoing since that first moment in the hallway. Hermione's body was so needy, so primed for him that the coiling of her body towards release soon took hold. She focused on his hard flesh coursing through her, stroking along that sensitive place inside, and she came suddenly and completely, a faint cry of wonder breaking from her lips.

It did not take long for him to follow her. The sight of the woman beneath him, the feel of her flesh pulsing around him, was all it took. After only a few more frantic thrusts he came desperately. Hermione felt him swell and release within her. He allowed himself a slight exhaled moan of pleasure, and looking up, she saw his eyes roll back in his head, then close in ecstasy. Apart from that, he had remained silent.

He collapsed on top of her, his heavy breathing pressing her hard into his desk. She wanted to reach up, clasp him to her, but it somehow did not seem right.

After a while of lying atop her, he rose suddenly, and without another glance at her pulled out quickly. The loss of him from within pierced her heart, but she did not show it, remaining quite still.

He quickly tidied himself, adjusting his clothing. He stood momentarily, staring out into the room, before hissing down to her, "Go!"

She expected no more, and quickly pulling up her underwear and rearranging her skirt, she hurried from the room.

Never had a partner spoken so dismissively to her or treated her with such little respect after sex.

But as Hermione Granger ran through the corridors of Hogwarts School, she did not care less.

She was ecstatic.

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Well, it was never going to be easy, was it? Still, it's only the beginning. Any thoughts appreciatively received. LL x