Fourteen

Hermione, for very obvious reasons, could not focus that afternoon. She took herself off to the library and buried her head in books, always a way to distract her from the complexities of life. But as her eyes poured over the words, she found her mind seeing only the image of him holding her down on the desk, thrusting hard into her time and time again.

It was her reaction that now occupied her thoughts more than anything. Although she had allowed it once he had started,, he had essentially forced himself on her, and the moment she thought he may stop, reconsider, she had felt a desperate disappointment. At that moment, she had wanted him to take her in that way more than anything, and the orgasm she had achieved had been one of the most vivid ever.

And what of him? His puerile jealousy, his possessiveness – they were reassuring in their own right, but they had clearly brought out a side to him he had only needed at his lowest and darkest moments. Was she prepared to accept that too? She knew what he had been through, and the reasons why, but despite his self-confessed need for control and order, when pushed he had revealed his deepest insecurities and inner demons.

She knew it would be so, but she had never experienced it quite so viscerally with him. Is that what she wanted in a relationship? Sitting staring out at the rows of books before her, a fog seemed to clear from her mind and she came to a sudden realisation.

It was exactly what she wanted.

But now, could she go to him? Should she? He had acted in a way many would regard as reprehensible, a way she knew she should regard as reprehensible. If nothing else, an enforced absence would bring him to a realisation of that. Her mind felt little shame over her reaction, but nudged her to force some from him.

But she wanted him. She yearned for him still.

The contrast between this complex, brilliant, tormented man, and the bright-eyed, vacant, innocent expression of Lawrence Filmore made it all the more clear. She, Hermione Granger, could not possibly survive on anything less.

She thought over their recent conversations. In her usual way, she had been abrupt, probing. Perhaps she had been too hasty, confronting him about Lily and love so early on. Shame at last poked at her; it was unfair to force him to confront the past. However, he had not been too reluctant to speak to her.

She needed him to see that the unrequited, unreciprocated love he felt for Lily, although undeniable,and noble and beautiful in itself, was not complete love. For someone to love completely, it was not simply a question of burning passion and unswerving allegiance. It was about respect, tolerance, compromise. It is only when you can accept love in return that you come to a full understanding of that.

Love – the word rang hollowly in her head. Is that what she felt for him? Had she come so far already? It was not clear to her.

She knew she wanted to continue. Knew she wanted to work out what it was she was feeling, knew that there was the possibility that it could be love, but she could not quite pinpoint it as such yet. Was that unfair? Was she giving him false hope? Were they both so damaged that the leap towards true love was too difficult for her, as well as for him?

She found herself clasping her head in her hands, pulling her hair tight in her fingers. It had grown dark outside and glancing at the clock, she saw that it was well into supper time. Gathering her things, she rushed down to the Great Hall. He was not there. She was not surprised, but more disappointed than usual. What had happened between them had shaken him up as much as her, she knew it.

But now concern started to nag at her. She wanted to see him, know what he was thinking, know that he was alright. She ate quickly.

Glancing up at one point, she looked down the table and met the eyes of Lawrence Filmore who was staring at her with wide-eyed expectation. He grinned at her, his blue eyes twinkling optimistically. Hermione returned a polite watery smile and lowered her head quickly. "Shit," she mumbled under her breath. She supposed she should be flattered; he was considered the catch of the school, but he held no charm for her whatsoever. She could do without this as well. Life was complicated enough.

Hermione headed for Gryffindor Common Room, confused as to what to do next. But on turning into a corridor heading for the staircase she found a solitary figure standing in the middle of it, his head lowered, his shoulders hunched. It was the Potions Master.

Hermione stopped. He raised his head slightly to look at her but did not move. She approached him slowly but did not stop, merely relaxed her speed, allowing him to turn and keep pace with her. Instinctively, they both moved unseen into an empty classroom.

Snape stood awkwardly, nervously, unable to meet her eyes. She waited, silence heavy upon them both.

At last he turned, taking an uncertain step towards her but still keeping his distance. "I am sorry."

Should she stand her ground, play the part of victim, reinforce the disgrace of his behaviour?

Her breathing came in such short breaths it hurt. Time ticked away. She was with him and yet they were apart. It made no sense.

His eyes rose at last and looked into her. She had never seen his soul laid so bare, so open and humble and meek – for her.

Her forgiveness was immediate and complete. Hermione reached out her hand to him. "It's alright – it's alright."

Severus looked at her, still uncertain, then suddenly and unexpectedly moved to her, falling onto his knees and clasping his arms tight about her. He buried his face in her midriff, breathing her in, kissing her clothing, her fingers, anything he came into contact with. She held him as best she could, stroking his hair, grasping his robes, soothing and easing him.

Hermione at length lowered herself to kneel in front of him, still holding his head tenderly. "I wanted it too. I needed you so much, so much. You would have stopped if I had said, I know you would." She paused. "I didn't want you to stop."

Severus looked at her, his eyes containing both shame and astonishment. His brows were furrowed slightly, uncertain he could bear her forgiveness, her awareness of what they shared. Hermione bestowed upon him a smile of complete acceptance, and slowly they moved into each other and kissed.

"It has been so long. I find I am no longer able to deal with the ... emotions, the turmoil. I find it bewildering ... disrupting ..." He drew in a breath before continuing. "I never was able to deal with it."

His candid confession staggered Hermione, but deepened her need to comfort and cocoon him. She stroked and soothed his head. "Shh ... I understand. But you are no longer alone. You must let me share those emotions with you. I am prepared to accept them."

He drew in a deep breath and spoke, his voice low and wary. "With me ... that will mean accepting an awful lot. Some of which you may not wish to ... burden."

"I know that." She continued to hold him tight. "It won't be easy. It never is. It takes time."

"Do we have time?"

She hesitated before answering. "We shall see."

There was silence for a while.

"Shall I see you tomorrow?" He still sounded uncertain.

"Of course. Tonight." She looked to him as needy as he. "Tonight, Severus, please."

He gazed at her, clearly surprised, but nodded, then kissed her once again. "Go now. I shall follow in a moment. Be careful."

Hermione rose reluctantly and left the room, checking that no one was around. She hurried unobtrusively to the dungeons. There were few people around the academic areas at this time, and once again she passed unseen. She stood waiting in his classroom, her skin starting to tingle with anticipation. Apart from her moment of desperate need earlier, her lust for him over the last few days had been relatively contained. Not now. The wait for his arrival was impossible, and she found herself pacing the room increasingly frantically.

At last the door opened. She stopped herself from rushing over to him immediately and silently but swiftly they walked into his bedroom.

Once inside their mutual need could no longer be buried and their mouths met instantly, searing, burning. Hermione opened her mouth to him and he pressed himself so hard onto her lips she tasted her own blood. His tongue was deep inside her mouth, moving ever more frantically in his need to possess and complete her. Her hands came up again, undoing his buttons. There were too many, and with a word from him they all parted instantly. Pushing his coat down from his shoulders, she reapplied herself to the buttons of his shirt. She was able to make shorter work of that and soon his chest was naked before her. But as she tried to move to it he held her back, stripping her of her own clothes swiftly. Her hands descended instead to his belt and the buttons on his trousers. The garment fell and the two of them were both soon naked before each other.

Severus lowered her onto the bed, but as he lay atop her she smoothly drew her leg around him, and using his own weight to help her, spun him onto his back. He looked up at her in mild surprise, but she merely smiled and sitting astride him, lowered her head to his smooth, lean torso. She kissed delicately and deliciously over his scarred flesh until she came to a nipple. Opening her warm mouth, her tongue flickered out, circling and teasing it into a hard tender point. He hissed but said nothing. She moved to the other and repeated the process, eliciting a moan this time as the tight flesh beneath her tongue stiffened yet further.

After glancing up at him, Hermione moved down once again, her tongue and lips caressing and nibbling as she went. On reaching his rigid member, protruding straight up towards her, the head full and ready for her touch, she allowed herself a brief look of delight at the beautiful thing before her before slowly opening her mouth fully and lowering her head around it. He could not stop himself anymore. Throwing his head back into the pillow, he arched off the bed, his hand coming down and pushing her further onto him. She allowed him to, so exquisite was the feel of him in her mouth.

She sucked with surprising restraint for a while before lowering her head and taking him as fully as she could, her cheeks pulling in tight about him as she went. Another groan sounded from the man above her. Her belly jolted with her own desire, and she pulled back up agonisingly slowly, tasting the pre-cum seeping onto her tongue in the process.

"Please."

Hermione glanced up, unsure she had heard correctly. He hardly ever spoke during sex, and the sound of his voice so desperate startled her. But she knew what they needed and reluctantly let him pop out of her mouth, knowing that what was to come would satisfy them both immeasurably.

Moving up, she positioned herself over his smooth purple tip and leaned down, resting her hands on the pale flesh. He was looking up at her with an expression of blissful anticipation, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Not taking her eyes from his, she started to move down, slowly, deliberately. The head of his throbbing member moved into her slick tight passage, and he moaned again. Hermione exhaled a breath of delight as she felt him parting her walls. She paused to adjust to the exquisite sensations, then descended again, slowly, down, down until at last she could go no further and she rested fully on him. Her head fell back in glee; he was deeper than she knew possible. Then throwing her head back over to look at him, she pushed down on his chest and started to rise up again, almost bringing herself fully off him. She held herself tantalisingly above him once more, a smirk flitting across her mouth as she gazed down, her hair curling haphazardly around her face. He could not stand it and once again broke his silence, low and urgent.

"Down."

She smiled more broadly and moved, just as slowly as before. With each inch she took in the groan emerging from him became more desperate. She revelled in her power. Her own delicious pleasure was building strongly, and she knew soon she would have to increase her pace. Adjusting her position slightly, she moved so that she could rub her swollen clit against him. Her own moan escaped, causing him to swell inside her. After another agonising pull up, she dropped down upon him. This time she did not stop, drawing herself back up immediately. Her fingers gripped his chest, drawing out red marks from the tender flesh. He was trying to maintain eye-contact, but as her speed increased, he could not help closing his eyes to concentrate on the sublime pleasure of her squeezing and pumping his engorged cock.

She moved rapidly now, always rising fully off him only to plunge deep and hard once again. Hermione felt her muscles shift within her. Her skin tingled and her fibres tensed as delicious anticipation took hold. Knowing she was close, she leaned back for him to catch her g-spot exactly, stretching her arms behind her to rest on his legs, her breasts rising into the air.

Severus opened his eyes long enough to see the sight above him and immediately came frantically, just as she thrust her body fully onto him once again. With sudden force, he gripped her hips hard for support as he convulsed, his cock exploding so hard he thought he would be seared into her. A guttural cry was torn from him and with this manifestation of his pleasure she froze, her mouth opening in wonder before her orgasm heaved its way in wave upon wave through her primed body.

Rapture continued to pour through both of them for longer than they had ever remembered before. Hermione felt him still hard inside her, their joint spasms continuing to twitch, and realised she would never again feel so complete.

After an age, she was able to pull her head back to look down at him. Never had he appeared so contented. She smiled with perfect happiness and lowered her body onto his. Drawing his arm around her, he nuzzled against her neck, and they fell asleep.

On awakening the next day, Hermione and Severus were still lying entwined. It was Saturday and there was no need to rush to get up. They were both awake but continued to lie quietly, not speaking, for many minutes. His hand was resting on her firm abdomen, the tips of his long fingers drawing lazy circles over her smooth flesh. It was a sublime and simple moment, one that Hermione never wanted to end. Whenever they were together in his rooms, any tension, any problems between them seemed to evaporate. It was as if they had been together, been a couple, for far longer than was even possible.

Lying in the thin morning light which filtered through the narrow windows high in his room, Hermione found herself speaking.

"Which do you prefer? Lying here together peacefully or screwing each other senseless around the castle?"

She felt a smirk nudge his features. "I must have words with your language professor. They are clearly failing in their duties to improve your eloquence and articulacy."

She giggled a little. "Seriously."

He sighed before drawling, "Both have their ... merits."

"I know ... but when we're here, it's just feels so right, so natural. When we are in your classroom or elsewhere, it is so desperate, delicious ... but so dangerous and frantic. We cannot survive on that." She glanced up at him uncertainly. "Can we?"

He looked almost hurt. "Sometimes ... it has to be that way. I have so much ... inside ... I need you or I would not be able to go on. I need you ..." He left his words hanging.

"What?" She was listening, rapt, hearing her own desires described in his words.

"I need you ... all the time and everywhere."

She could only acknowledge the simple truth of his words. Laying her head back down on his chest, her brows furrowed at the complexity of their situation. It was as if they were in a dream: a nightmare where one is constantly searching for something; something so right and so real, but always just out of reach, never able to be grasped. There were too many obstacles: some real, some veiled and shadowy impediments of the mind.

But there was a way to banish them. Hermione was prepared to accept it.

"You asked me if we had time, Severus." She waited a little for her words to register fully before continuing, "I do. But you must ask ... can you grant yourself time?"

He still gave no response. For now, she did not expect it of him.

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