Eleven

The moments between them had sated Hermione's ardent lust when needed, but she found not only did it continue to burn undiminished, she also missed seeing him, talking to him. The brief times they had been able to converse had opened a window, allowing her a glimpse of what could be but not permitting her to search any deeper. As controlled as they were by the daily ritual of school life, they had played out their games within the confines of it. It was delicious and desperate, but Hermione knew it was not enough. Her mind and soul seemed to be protesting that they were being denied what her body was receiving.

Hermione had noted his reluctance to open too much to her. The time in his bedroom had revealed so much, but since then he had seemed to retreat emotionally from her. Not physically; his sexual need for her was abundantly clear, but she wanted to recapture those moments of tenderness and intimacy she knew they could share.

Yet he seemed to feel safe, secure within the institutional confines of the school and scared of what may lie beyond. Indeed, he had never known much else. Her mind twinged with anxiety. She was not to stay at Hogwarts for long. What on earth did the future beyond school hold for them? She tried to imagine one and tried not to admit to herself that she couldn't actually picture it.

The weekend came. She had never felt so lonely, knowing he was there, in the same building, but unable to see him, touch him, speak to him. Her whole body heaved with desire and need, physically, intellectually and emotionally. Her friends were fun and could be soothing company, but she acknowledged that she had left them so far behind as a person that there was none among them that she felt equal to.

She missed him.

And on Saturday night, Hermione could stand it no more.

It was late, nearly midnight, and Gryffindor Tower was silent save for the ticking of the clock in the Common Room and the heavy breathing of exhausted students. Hermione arose, dressing in jeans and a top, and slipped on her quietest shoes. She opened her door as silently as she could and slipped down the staircase. As she left the Common Room, the portrait of the Fat Lady stirred in her sleep but did not notice the young woman as she slipped unobtrusively down the dark corridors.

Hermione's heart beat frantically. As well as Filch there were plenty of other ways she could be detected on her way to the dungeons: ghosts, professors working late. She knew she was taking a dangerous risk.

Hermione clung to the dark corners of the castle, moving swiftly and silently through the shadows. She occasionally saw a ghost float by before her, but she remained undetected.

At last she reached the hallway leading to his classroom. Moonlight fell through the narrow windows high up in the corridors and illuminated the passage enough for her to see it was clear. Her heart leapt ... she was almost there. Emboldened, she stepped out and hurried along.

As she passed a pillar, her foot caught on something and she tripped and fell awkwardly, her hand coming out to stop herself and scraping along the stone floor. The object she had tripped on emitted a vile high-pitched screech and hissed violently at her. She spun her head round to look at it. It was Filch's cat.

Hermione froze. The cat stared at her, its hackles raised, its ears flat, a low hiss sounding from it. Hermione knew Filch would not be far behind. She dared not move too fast for fear it would strike, but she needed to get away quickly.

Her heart raced. She could hear heavy shuffling footsteps approaching around the corner. "Pss ...pss ... where are you, my sweet? Have you caught something for me? I'm coming." Hermione's stomach turned at the sound of Filch's low rasping voice.

Then suddenly the cat screeched and darted rapidly away. Before she could grasp the moment, strong arms had caught her shoulders, pulling her up and into a dark corner between two pillars. A hand reached around, clamping over her mouth. It was a hand which had done the same only two days before. Hermione pulled in a long breath through her nose and inhaled the delicious smell of Severus Snape.

He was standing behind her, clasping her hard to him, his hand still covering her mouth. She felt his heavy, honeyed breath on her face, and his voice snaked into her ear, deep and throbbing. "Not ... a ... sound."

She remained as still and silent as she could, yet despite the danger of their situation, she knew there was already a relentless dripping from her core.

They were concealed in the shadows, but Hermione was sure they could still be seen. Filch's footsteps drew closer and closer, as did his wheezing voice. "Mrs Norris? Where are you, my sweet? Mrs Norris? Are you alright, treasure?" The wizened man stopped directly opposite them. Hermione's eyes widened. Filch looked determined, angry. He knew something was not right. He turned his head and looked directly at them.

Hermione gasped involuntarily, but the sound was caught in the strong hand on her mouth. Filch stared at the spot they were standing in but seemed not to be able to see them. Hermione was sure he could hear her heart beating loudly and violently within her chest. Filch's eyes narrowed and he took a step closer, peering intently towards them.

They would be discovered, of that she was certain. But just as Hermione could stand no more, Filch stepped back, turned and headed further along the corridor. They waited until his footsteps had died away completely then Snape suddenly released his hold on her body, but grabbing her wrist, pulled her roughly along the corridor and into his classroom, shutting the door rapidly but silently behind him.

Immediately, he spun to her, anger contorting his face. "You little fool! What do you think you are playing at? Do you realise how close that was?"

Hermione's face burned with shame, and she could hardly look at him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I thought I could manage it."

"Clearly you were mistaken. It was a stupid thing to try."

His breathing was deep and rapid, and his temper emanated towards her. There was silence between them for a while. Hermione could not raise her eyes to his. Eventually, she stammered out, "Thank you. If it hadn't been for you ..."

He merely humphed in response, his body still taut with fury. She continued.

"How did you ...? I was sure Filch could see us ... he was looking directly at us."

"I used a concealment charm. But I did not have the time to make it very strong. It could have worn off at any moment. That is not an experience I wish to repeat."

"No. Sorry." Hermione did not know what else to say and was unsure even whether to stay or go.

After a long while he spoke again, the anger less evident now. "What are you doing here?"

She could not help but smile slightly. "Isn't it obvious?"

He looked at her, his brows still furrowed in annoyance. She continued. She had got this far, she may as well make the most of being here. "I missed you." She stepped into him. He was breathing heavily, and she could see the desire flicker in his eyes, supplanting the anger of before.

Hermione reached him and stood looking up into his face tenderly. His features had softened and she knew he had calmed. She ran her hand up along his arm, but flinched and withdrew it sharply. There was a deep, angry graze where she had fallen.

Snape's eyes moved immediately to it. "You have hurt yourself." His smooth deep tones were a balm in themselves.

"It's nothing. It doesn't matter." She drew her hand down, but he caught it gently in his and brought it up to him. Studying it carefully, he then slowly lowered his head to it. He planted a tender, soothing kiss on the wounded flesh, his tongue flitting out softly to lick and caress the sorest points. Hermione drew in a shuddering breath. Severus continued his ministrations for some time. Never had she known anything so sublimely comforting. She saw his mouth moving silently over the wound, his breath and tongue caressing it, and before her eyes, the graze vanished and her flesh was restored to its former health. She drew in a breath of surprised appreciation. The ability to heal with only words and touch was rare indeed.

Snape did not react but continued to kiss her hand, travelling slowly up the underside of her wrist, his tongue idly touching, tasting the sensitive flesh. He spoke between touches, the familiar deep drawl: "Why are you here now, at this time exactly? I have told you to be careful, have I not? I had expected better of you." His low admonishing tone now simply fuelled her lust further as his tongue continued its progress up her arm.

Hermione gasped in, unable to take her eyes off his smooth black head as it slowly worked its way up her tingling skin. "I ... I wanted to talk to you."

He glanced up at her, but did not take his mouth away. "Talk to me?"

"Yes. I was lonely." His mouth was scorching her arm now, pushing the material of her top up as he went. "I thought perhaps ... you were too."

Again, he glanced up, an eyebrow cocked. "Just because one is alone, it does not mean one is lonely."

Her heart twinged a little. He had reached her neck. He kissed away her disappointment. "In that case ... I'll go again ... shall I?"

He silenced her with his mouth, parting her lips gently and slipping inside to idly taste her sweetness. She had her answer. He brought his hands up to cup her face, not moving his mouth from hers, and pulled her tenderly but firmly backwards, through his classroom and into his private rooms. When he finally stopped, she found herself once again in his bedroom. It was dimly lit with a few candles. The bed was still made; he had not yet been in it.

At last Severus moved apart from her. In stark contrast to the heated anger he had exhibited earlier, his face was now calm and relaxed, shimmering in the candlelight.

They stepped towards each other, reaching up slowly, delicately, and undressing each other. As their naked flesh was revealed, they each dipped in, kissing and soothing the skin they found before them.

Once naked, he pulled her into him and they stood, clasped together, rocking slightly in the middle of the room. But she felt him pressing hard against her, and eventually he reached for her arms gently and pulled her towards the bed, lowering her down onto it. Not taking his eyes from hers, Severus pushed tenderly into her. It was so sublime, so different from their frantic lust of the last few days that she could only gasp in with surprise. He moved along her, stroking and filling her as perfectly as before, but with a tender sincerity she exalted in. Their eyes remained locked together.

Severus reached behind her back and pulled her up, kneeling at the same time, then moved his legs in front, careful to remain firmly inside.

They sat, joined together, gazing deep into the other's eyes. It was such a indulgent moment, Hermione almost wept. Then holding behind her back, he started to move her along him, slowly and gently. They rocked against each other for the longest time, drawing out their pleasure sublimely, little by little. Hermione felt her muscles starting to clench, and as he rubbed along her clit one final time, she came slowly, a wave building, radiating out from her very centre. She released it with a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes closed and her head fell back. With the sight and feel of her, Severus shuddered, his own pleasure shooting deep up into her. He met her rapture with a small groan of his own.

They sat for a while longer, fused, just looking at each other, their faces quite neutral, but a glow within their eyes so rarely there.

At length they lay down together on the bed, Severus pressed hard into Hermione's back, just like the last time.

"I don't want to go back to my room."

"It would be foolish to try."

"May I stay here tonight?"

"That would seem to be the most obvious solution." The sarcastic drawl had returned. Hermione smiled to herself.

There was silence for a while, but Hermione felt the time had come to try to satisfy her curiosity. "You said before that you ... realised about me sometime last year."

"I did not ... 'realise' ... about you."

"But ... you said ..."

"I know what I said." He was stroking her arm and paused before continuing. "Looking back, I can see that it was then that I first thought about you as something more than ..."

"An insufferable know-it-all?"

"Hmm ... something like that. But I did not 'realise' until the other day. I cannot be certain when exactly. You were late for my lesson. I noticed your absence immediately. It riled me. I resented it ... I ... missed your presence. My reaction to your tardiness surprised and confused me. My mind started to tell me things I found hard to accept." His voice was low, but he spoke quite freely.

"Is that why you kept denying yourself?"

"Meaning?"

"To start with, when something had happened between us you would shut down, run."

He did not respond. She spoke again, tenderly.

"I told you ... I will guide you."

"Those moments took me by surprise, I acknowledge, as did my feelings. As you yourself realise, this situation and the emotions evoked through it are all unfamiliar to me. I suppose I did not feel in control."

"Do you need to?"

"Yes."

"But you have experienced similar things before. With Lily."

He flinched on hearing her name. Hermione began to regret broaching the subject, but he eventually spoke, a bitter edge to his voice.

"You said that I should allow love to be given to me. She did not do that."

"I don't think that's true. She cared for you very deeply."

"She did not love me."

"She did in many ways."

"No. Not in the way I wanted."

Hermione stopped. His feelings on that matter were still so painful, so raw. She did not want to exacerbate them now that she had gone so far with him. She changed the subject.

"You are a very sensitive lover."

"You sound surprised," he drawled cynically.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"I am a grown man. I have needs – as I think you have gathered. And the Dark Lord elevated me to a position of some authority. With that came ... opportunities: perfunctory, detached, entirely unsatisfying except to relieve an urgent need, partially brought about by power and ..."

"And what?"

"Fear." His voice was strangely empty. "The fear of death."

Hermione felt a sharp pang pull at her heart and nestled into him more closely. She spoke gently, but still curious.

"Was there ever anyone with whom you connected at all?"

"No. And anyway, this was a long time ago. I was still young. I grew to hate it. I stopped all that many years ago. It was sordid, dirty; they were never ... right."

Hermione said gently but plainly, "They were never her."

He tensed and did not respond. Hermione continued. "I am not her either."

"No." Severus glanced down, searching her eyes. "You are ... you."

"And what about me, Severus? Why me? What have I done to draw out this life, this pleasure, your skill in delivering it?"

He stared at her deeply.

"You have believed."

Hermione stared at him. His eyes were wide and open; she could see the stirrings of his soul within. Still his meaning lacked clarity and understanding, but his words moved her beyond reason. Her eyes misted over and she breathed increasingly desperately up to him, "Come inside me again. Please. I want to feel you inside me. Please, please."

He had hardened rapidly while gazing down at her and immediately, with a swift, fluid movement, plunged deep into her. Her eyes widened in ardent satisfaction and she gasped in, locking into his. He did not move for the longest time, and they merely lay, she impaled on him, revelling in the feel of his hard shaft filling her so profoundly.

To Severus, the sensation of her sheathing him, enclosing him, was so exquisite that his heart swelled as he had never known before. As he gazed down into her deep brown eyes, looking up at him with such tender awe, he knew this was where he belonged.

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Thank you for all the lovely reviews and kind words regarding this story: so glad you are enjoying it! At least Hermione won't be lonely tonight and Severus won't be ... alone. Any comments greatly appreciated, as always. More soon. x