Nineteen

Hermione left the dungeons immediately.

What exactly had that been all about? He had clearly needed to possess and control her, remind her of who he was, who she was. Had she angered him so greatly by walking out on him on Sunday? Surely not. She had apologised; he had seemed to accept.

But as she walked, Hermione could not deny that what had happened between them had excited her. She could not recall ever before bringing herself to such a powerful orgasm. And what of his actions afterwards? He had dismissed her with clinical detachment and she had allowed him. His complete acceptance of her body was sublime, but to show it in such a visceral way revealed further complexities in the man she was not sure she yet understood. Did she need to?

No.

She found his gesture intriguing and bizarrely touching. His intricacies were one of the main things that attracted her to him, and by the time she reached her room, she realised that what had passed between them, despite its apparently humiliating purpose, merely strengthened her connection with him.

They had not spent the night together since Saturday, and Hermione found herself longing to be in his bed again, to feel his arms around her properly, to be held and stroked and caressed. As she sat down to supper, desperate for a glimpse of him, she debated how he would react if she turned up at his rooms.

He was not in the Great Hall, and she left feeling dejected and morose, unable to decide on her course of action. She went outside for a breath of fresh air, hoping the chill of night would fire her decisiveness. It did not, but as she stood, leaning on the cold stone wall, an owl suddenly alighted with a flutter next to her. Hermione jumped, causing the owl to move back from her with an indignant ruffle of its feathers. But it waited until she had taken the small parchment gripped in its talons, before flying back up into a high tower.

Hermione unrolled the scroll as fast as her numb fingers could manage and read in the dim light: “Come to me tonight. Ten o’clock. Filch busy elsewhere at that time. SS”

Her heart jumped as her body had earlier. The decision on whether to go to him or not had been taken out of her hands. But she allowed herself a moment of concern. Did he intend to let her stay or were there to be more power games? Hermione realised unashamedly that she did not mind either way. She simply wanted to be with him again, completely privately. They were never happier than when in his modest little rooms tucked away behind his classroom.

She read the scroll again, noting with wry amusement that he had signed it ‘SS’; one ‘S’ would have done. No kisses either. But then, that really would have been expecting too much. She smirked and returned inside.

The evening passed slowly. Hermione sat chatting to Ginny for a while, but her friend soon took herself off to bed, complaining of feeling unwell. Hermione retired to her own room while the minutes until ten ticked slowly away.

At quarter to, she finally thought she could venture out, and, appearing as nonchalant as possible, she left the Common Room, mumbling about a lost book. Nobody seemed to notice.

Hermione hurried silently and swiftly through the dark corridors. They were deserted, and as Severus had said, there was no sign of Filch or his cat. She reached his classroom rapidly and entered it, shutting the door tight behind her. Looking up, she was surprised to find him at his desk, seemingly intent on writing. She approached him slowly. Hermione half wondered if there was to be a repeat of the previous day. She was not sure she would have minded if there was.

He did not look up. She came and stood before him, waiting. There was silence between them. Hermione studied him carefully. His brow was furrowed; she wondered momentarily if he had even noticed her presence. His hand moved elegantly and fluidly over the parchment. He really did have beautiful fingers. Piano hands, her mother would say.

Still she waited.

Then at last, without looking up, he placed the quill down. She could not read his face.

Severus at last pushed his chair back and moved smoothly out from behind his desk, coming to stand a foot or so from her. She searched out his eyes, but he did not meet her gaze. His head was lowered and he appeared awkward.

“I am sorry.”

The words were quiet but clear. At last he raised his eyes through hooded lids and looked at her. She could see clear shame on his face now. It surprised her.

“It’s alright.” She spoke gently. “I found that I ... liked it.”

He lowered his head again. Neither moved nor spoke for a while. Then the black gaze rose again to hers.

“You were sublime.”

Hermione felt that now familiar swell within her and rushed to clasp him suddenly to her. His hands engulfed her into him and moved urgently up to turn her head to his, insistent lips crashing down onto hers. She opened for him, his tongue slipping in instantly, ravishing what he found inside. He gripped her arms, denying her the opportunity to reach for his buttons, and pulled her backwards towards his private rooms.

Once inside, they moved swiftly to the bedroom and found themselves naked almost immediately. Hermione was vaguely aware that they must have used magic to divest themselves of their clothes so rapidly but had no recollection of it. He lowered her onto the bed, and entered her immediately, thrusting in with a grunt of urgency. Hermione arched up, drawing him yet further into her. He hissed out as she tightened around his desperate rigidity.

“Oh god, more, Severus, more. Please, oh god, I missed you ... I missed you inside me.”

He did not speak, but continued to stroke along her urgently, his breathing heavy and rapid as he drew them both towards the deepest pleasure.

Hermione felt her muscles girding themselves and moaned incoherently, focusing on the hardness within her. As he moved, he rubbed her inflamed clit, and it took only a moment more for her to come around him. A cry was torn from her as her body heaved under him. She gripped his back, her nails digging into his pale flesh. As he felt her, his own release could no longer be restrained and he came violently, his hot seed exploding deep into her warmth.

Severus collapsed onto her with a groan of fulfilment and they lay there silently while the night encroached around them, pressing them further into the other until they fell asleep.

Hermione awoke the next morning to find him still holding her tight. They were lying in their familiar pose with him pressed firmly against her back, their legs drawn up together. His arm was resting languorously around her belly and she could not resist reaching up a finger and running it over the sinewy muscles. He stirred and pulled her ever closer into him. Smiling, she brought his hand up to kiss it tenderly.

At length, when she suspected he had woken properly, she rolled over and indeed found him gazing over at her, his eyes dancing in the early morning light. He greeted her with a gentle kiss, and they soon found themselves joined once again.

After their bodies had come down, she turned to him, stroking his face. “Are you busy today? I don’t see you on a Tuesday.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately, you’re busy, or unfortunately, I don’t see you?”

“Both.”

“Can I come back tonight?”

“Need you ask?”

“Yes. I would never simply presume.”

“You did once.”

“Yes. That isn’t an experience either of us want to repeat.” They were remembering the first time she had ventured to his rooms and nearly been caught by Filch.

He smiled down at her a little. “Certainly not.”

“You have to admit,” she smirked, “it was just a teensy weensy little bit exciting though.”

“Perhaps,” he drawled before leaning down to kiss her again. “Now you had better go or you will be late for breakfast.”

“You do have a bit of a thing about punctuality,” she teased.

“Of course. One should always come at the appropriate time.”

Hermione gasped in mock horror. “Why, Professor Snape, I do believe you just made a joke based on crude sexual innuendo!”

He stopped smiling but his eyes danced again. She beamed up at him, then rose rapidly and got out of bed. He watched entranced as she ran giggling from the room.

Hermione arrived at breakfast in ebullient mood. Ginny looked up at her and chatted amicably. “I’ve got a study period first thing this morning, ‘Mione. Have you?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Hermione hadn’t really thought about it.

“I’m going to the library. Do you want to come?”

“Yeah, OK.” Hermione smiled at her friend; she could detect a sense of insistence in Ginny’s voice.

After breakfast they got their books and headed for a private, secluded part of the library.

They started to revise for Transfiguration, but Hermione noticed Ginny being more attentive towards her than usual, closer almost. At moments of quiet, Hermione would look up and find Ginny staring at her intensely.

She broke the silence by asking about her friend’s health. “Are you feeling better? You were a bit poorly last night.”

“Yes, thanks. Time of the month. I felt dreadful last night.”

“I’m sorry.” She smiled apologetically at her friend.

Ginny continued staring at her. Hermione was a little unnerved.

“Yeah. In fact, the cramps got so bad that I really needed to take something. But I’d run out of the relieving potion.”

“Really? Did you manage to get some?”

“No ... I came to see you actually, to see if you had any or could make me some. I was quite desperate.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear. I must have been asleep.”

“It was only just after ten. You don’t normally go to bed that early.”

Hermione could no longer look at her friend. “Yeah, well ... I was really tired last night.”

“Because, you see,” continued Ginny, “I didn’t think you were in, so I thought I might try to find you.”

“Oh, really?” Hermione knew she sounded nervous.

“And, you see ... Harry leant me something for times like this. I mean ... it’s not as if he needs it at the moment. I’d never thought about using it, but I really wanted your help.”

Hermione’s blood ran cold as Ginny reached into her bag and brought out an object all too familiar to her. It was the Marauder's Map.

She swallowed hard, but said nothing, almost imparted with a morbid curiosity to see what Ginny would say next.

“At first, I couldn’t find you anywhere. There I was, looking for the little solitary name of Hermione Granger, maybe in the library, maybe even going for a late night walk somewhere.”

There was silence. Hermione found herself breaking it.

“And did you find me, Ginny?”

“Oh yes. And what a fool I was. I should have looked there first. I found you in a place that I suspect you have spent quite a lot of time recently, right next to someone else’s name. And there you stayed, all night. You were still there when I woke up this morning to check again.”

Hermione was almost daring her to voice it. “And what was the other name?”

“Severus Snape.”

The two women stared at each other. To Hermione’s surprise, there was no shock, no horror in Ginny’s eyes. Still, Hermione could not bear to look in them anymore and lowered her head rapidly.

“Hermione, I’ve suspected for a while, you know. You can’t keep your eyes off each other. You’ve even sabotaged my potion to get close to him.”

Hermione’s head darted up. Ginny merely smiled. “I just wish you’d told me before.”

Hermione looked at her in astonishment. “Aren’t you ... shocked?”

“I was at first, but ... I know you, ‘Mione, and, despite my own opinion ... I know what he did ... who he must be underneath ... it all. You two have been through things that even I cannot imagine. Extraordinary things draw people together. Who am I to question or judge?”

Hermione found herself getting up and rushing round the table to embrace her friend fervently. “Oh, god, Gin, thank you. I wondered if you’d noticed. I so wanted to tell you, but thought you’d be so horrified you wouldn’t speak to me. And I didn’t want to betray him. God, you mustn’t say a word, do you understand?”

“Hermione! You don’t need to say that.”

Hermione stared at her friend in amazed disbelief for a while, before sitting down beside her. “I just ... I just can’t believe you’re being so tolerant.”

“Hermione. You’re my dearest friend. I know you wouldn’t enter into something unless you thought it was meaningful and significant. But ... I do worry about you. I mean ... surely your relationship is forbidden – you’re his student.”

“Yes ... but ... I’m not going to be here for much longer. And I hardly feel like a student. I wasn’t sure I could stand much more of being here to be honest. I was desperate to take the exams and get out. I couldn’t have felt anything less like a student. Strangely enough, he was the only member of staff who treated me like one when I came back. God, it pissed me off! Especially after all we’d been through together, all we’d witnessed.”

“So what changed?”

“I ... I don’t know really. He infuriated me, the way he insisted on treating me so coldly and callously, as if nothing had happened to me or to him. I suppose I resented it. I resented the fact that he could be so in control of his emotional exterior when I still felt like screaming and raging at the world. And I think, in a strange sort of way, that connected me to him. And then, one day, I caught him looking at me, staring at me in the Great Hall, not with anger, but with ... curiosity, it seemed. It terrified me almost, inexplicably and then we sort of ... bumped into each other and I knew I wanted him. And from then on, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and ... it became such a physical obsession ... he was suddenly so desirable.” She looked quickly at Ginny. “I suppose you think I’m mad.”

Ginny smiled. “I would have done until recently, but when you realise a sensible friend of yours fancies the pants off someone, you kind of look at that person in a different way.”

“And ...?”

“He’s got nice legs.” They both collapsed into giggles.

“God – I hadn’t really focused on his legs, but ... you’re right.”

“And he smells pretty good come to think about it.”

“Oh god, yes.”

“And, of course ...” Ginny paused with a smirk.

“Of course what...?”

“His voice is as sexy as hell.”

Hermione pressed her hands to her head in an attempt to stem the laughter. “You noticed.”

“Well, yeah ... it’s just that when it’s deriding and mocking and belittling your every move, you don’t tend to notice.”

“It’s just a defence mechanism, you know. He’s afraid to give, afraid to reveal too much of himself.”

“Probably,” Ginny shrugged. “Doesn’t make it any easier for the rest of us though.”

Hermione lowered her head, slightly ashamed. She remembered how dreadfully he treated nearly all his students.

“He did save your life.”

“Yes ... only after you tried your hardest to get rid of me!”

“Sorry about that.”

“What did he say about it?”

“He set me an essay.”

“Really!?” Ginny was incredulous. “Anything else?”

Hermione paused. “Not really.” She couldn’t stop a smile caressing her features.

“Go on!” Ginny sensed something more; her eyes sparked with excited curiosity.

“No ... I can’t.” She was firm.

Ginny stopped pressing her, but still burned with inquisitiveness. After a moment of silence, she spoke again, more secretive than ever.

“Well ... what’s he like then?”

Hermione glanced at her, then the two friends dissolved into suppressed laughter again.

After they had stopped giggling, Ginny still stared at Hermione. It was clear she wanted an answer.

“He’s ... rather good ... very good, actually,” She couldn’t stop smiling. “And improving all the time.”

Ginny grinned broadly. “Attentive?”

“Yes.”

“Unselfish?”

Hermione thought about it. “Most of the time.”

“Varied?”

Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded with a smile.

There was a pause.

“Experimental?”

“Ginny!”

“Sorry.”

Another pause. Then Ginny spoke again with a smirk. “So ... you’re satisfied?”

Hermione fixed her eyes into her friend’s. “Oh, yes. And then some.”

“God, ‘Mione! I’m bloody jealous. Harry’s not nearly so ...” She stopped abruptly. There was a grimace on Hermione’s face. Ginny had forgotten how she hated to think about Harry in that way.

“I have to say; I’ve never seen you so happy. I mean, I suppose I should feel some remorse for my brother, although I never thought you’d last. But I’m just so happy that you’re happy. Poor Ron. I don’t think he’ll be quite so ... understanding.”

“Shit.” Hermione froze. “They’re coming up here in a few days. What if they find out?”

“Will it matter if they do?”

“Yes!” She turned to Ginny. “Won’t it?”

“Well ... I don’t know. I mean ... they’ll have to find out at some point, won’t they?”

“Oh god ... must they!?”

“Hermione. If this is what you want, you can’t be ashamed of it. If you want to have a proper relationship, the world will have to know sooner or later.”

“Later,” she said emphatically.

“I can understand you keeping it quiet while you’re here, you don’t exactly want to get expelled, but ... what’s going to happen after you leave?” Ginny’s voice was suddenly filled with deep concern.

An uneasy throb had started in Hermione’s gut. She realised she had no answer. “I ... I don’t know.”

“I mean ... you might have great, dirty, secret sex, but ... there’s more to a relationship than that. How on earth are you going to conduct yourselves away from here? And he works here anyway. What about his job?”

The feeling in the pit of her stomach grew worse.

“How serious are you, Hermione?” Ginny paused. “Do you love him?”

Hermione’s eyes shot to her friend’s and she stared deep into them, almost as if she was hoping to find the answer there. She did not reply.

There was silence between them. After a while, Ginny rubbed her friend’s arm and got up to go to the bathroom.

Hermione stared blankly out into the still library. Her mouth opened and words came out, unheard by anyone, even herself.

“I think perhaps I do.”