Twenty-Three

Instead of the feelings of excitement and high anticipation that Hermione usually experienced when entering her Potions Master's classroom, she was this time filled with dread. Her heart was a lump of lead within her, and she hesitated before turning the door handle and walking inside.

Severus was standing diffidently off to one side of the room. He had clearly been waiting for her. When she entered he immediately rushed over and pulled her into him in a tight embrace, holding her head up to his for a deep kiss. She could not ignore it and found herself responding as she usually did.

His mouth travelled down her neck. Hermione frowned in a concerted attempt to focus on what she must do. She needed to get it over with. She couldn't have it hanging over her.

"So good ... so good to have you now ... I thought I would have to wait. Why were you upset earlier? Has someone hurt you? Tell me. You must tell me. Was it Weasley?" His voice was hard and insistent, almost threatening.

She reached her hands down and pulled his head up to look him in the eyes.

"I'm alright. I'm alright now. It was just a silly argument. It's nothing."

"Who? Who did you argue with? Potter? What was it about?"

"No. It wasn't Harry. He's been fine. Please, Severus, stop asking all these questions ... I have to tell you something."

His face drained immediately of colour and he seemed to her suddenly like a terrified little boy. He could not speak.

"Let's sit down."

She did so, hoping he would follow. He did not. He did not even look at her. He was rooted to the spot.

"You may as well sit down, Severus."

At last his eyes shot to hers. "Whatever it is you have to tell me, I will hear it now from here." His voice was utterly flat and empty.

It dawned on Hermione that he thought she may be about to leave him. She reached her hand out to his and took it gently. "Severus. Severus ... look at me." Still, he did not. "It's not that bad." She spoke as reassuringly as she could.

At last he moved his eyes to hers. Hermione had never seen such open terror in them, despite all he had endured in his lifetime. She almost cried. In one way, she was glad she could reassure him, but equally she dreaded his reaction to what she had to say.

"Please sit down."

Slowly and hesitatingly, he did.

Hermione sighed but continued holding his hand. "You know this ball?"

He did not respond.

"Well ... this ball. I am essentially a student here, and I am expected to go to the ball. I do actually want to go to the ball. But also, there is no reason in people's minds why I should not go with a partner. It is generally accepted that since Ron and I split up, I haven't had a boyfriend, and basically, you need a partner for a ball. So people have assumed I'll go with someone from here." She paused slightly before blurting the rest out. "So anyway, this boy asked me and I didn't know what to do, but then Harry and Ron were there, and they all thought it was the most obvious thing to do, and there was a lot of pressure and I was confused, and anyway, I said yes."

Her words spewed out in a mad rush.

Severus did not speak for an age and had averted his gaze again.

The silence became oppressive. "Severus?" she asked tentatively.

"Who is it?"

"Well ... this boy is someone all my friends know and they hang out with him so they want him to come. I said yes because of them really because they want me to go with someone that they can all get on with." She had never sounded so hopelessly immature.

"Who – is – it?" The words were icy.

She hesitated, knowing how this particular name would stab him through.

"It's Lawrence Filmore."

His face twitched, but he said nothing more and moved hardly at all.

"I've told him it is strictly as friends. He's only nominally my partner. It makes things much easier that way."

After an age he at last spoke, but his words did little to reassure her.

"He wants you." He sounded menacing.

She grimaced. "I wouldn't put it like that."

"Of course he does. Stupid little prick wants you, wants to have you. Naturally he does. I know exactly how he feels. I've seen the way he looks at you. I've watched him looking at you, even when you have not. I know what he's feeling. I know that feeling; that deep burn that won't go away until it is addressed, until it is satisfied."

He was scaring her. "Severus, don't be silly. He's just a kid. But he's a nice boy, too. I'm sure he would never try to take advantage of me. And even if he did, I could handle him easily. I'm not going to let him do anything remotely inappropriate."

"He will dance with you."

"Occasionally."

"He will hold you, touch you, pull you into him. I do not want him to touch you." He was still not looking at her. His eyes were fixed in front of him, and his voice had a dark, oppressive quality Hermione had not heard recently. It was deeply unnerving.

"Severus, this is ridiculous. He is a partner for a ball and we are going as friends. I have made that abundantly clear. In any case, what does it matter if he wants me or not? I don't want him. Severus, I don't want him. I want you. I always want you. Yes, I know that feeling too. I know that feeling because I feel it all the time when I'm with you – and when I'm apart from you – to the exclusion of everyone else. I am going with this boy because it is expected of me, and it will actually help us maintain this charade, this odd little dance of deceit that we've been spinning so dizzily. Can't you see that? It's a smokescreen – it will help to distract people from what is really going on. 'That Hermione – she's going with that seeker Filmore – he likes her – if she's going with him she can't have anyone else can she – she can't have ...'"

"Some slimy, old, sadistic git of a Potions Master." He finished her sentence with particular self-loathing.

She gaped at him, shaking her head in disbelief. Hermione took his head in her hands and forced it towards her. Still he did not look at her.

"Don't say that ... don't say that ... after all we've been through. After all the things you know that you mean to me ... how can you say that? You are incredible. You are so far beyond anything I could have hoped to find with anyone else. I want you and only you. How can you doubt that? How can you possibly ...?"

He stepped away from her.

"You should go to supper now." His voice was calm again, but still cold. His eyes remained lowered.

Hermione's breathing was deep; she felt panic sweeping over her, but tried hard not to show it. She could not get through to him with the mood he was in. Slowly, she moved away, walking with heavy steps to the door.

On reaching it, she turned back. "Severus, please see this for what it really is. It's one night. We are all expected to be there. He means nothing. Nothing. You mean everything."

She walked from the room, leaving the solitary barren figure within it.

Hermione hardly spoke a word during supper. Ginny had come up to her just before and apologised. Hermione had too. They were too close to stay angry with each other for long. It was a pale relief amidst the trauma of what had just happened. Hermione remained quiet and withdrawn. Harry and Ron tried to draw her into the conversation but gave up after a while; she may as well not have been there.

Before they returned to the Common Room, Harry caught her and pulled her back to a quiet corner.

"Hermione, what happened? You're clearly upset."

She could not look at him but shrugged a little. "I told him and he didn't like it. I wasn't expecting much more, I suppose."

Harry sighed. "What an idiot!"

She frowned at him. "No, Harry. You mustn't say that. He hasn't felt like this about anyone since ... your mother. And now, just when things seemed to be working out for him, and he was allowing himself to trust, I've gone and pulled the rug out from under his feet. It must feel like he's back with James and Sirius again – taunting, mocking, taking what he feels is his."

"Don't be ridiculous – it's only a bloody date for a ball!"

"Yes, but, those emotions are so raw, so fragile. Shit, why did I ever have to say yes to the guy?"

"Hermione, Snape should know how much he means to you. I could tell just seeing you together in the corridor that you had a special bond. It was ... obvious ... humbling even. Now he just needs to sort his head out and realise what a good thing – god, an incredible thing – he's onto with you. How can he not? But really, anyone would think you were the one twenty years older. If he can't see this situation for what it really is, then he's bloody inadequate."

His words stung. "Don't say that. No one has ever loved him before. It must be strange."

"How did you leave it?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know really. He didn't say much. I just told him what he meant to me."

"Sounds like you've done all the hard work. I'd leave it for a bit. Let him calm down."

"I was going to go to him tonight."

"You won't now, surely?"

"I suppose not." She lowered her head. She still wanted to.

"You mustn't."

"No. I know."

Harry held her hand. "Come on. I haven't come all the way up here to have you moping around. Come and sit with us and have a chat, or a listen at least." He smiled down at her. She managed a weak smile back and allowed him to lead her back to the Common Room.

She sat with her friends for an hour or so, listening to their gossip and laughter, even occasionally managing to join in. Ginny glanced at her anxiously at times but was so engrossed in Harry that she was not able to pay much attention. At nine o'clock, Hermione stood and excused herself. She gave Harry a huge hug goodbye and he whispered to her to owl as soon as she could. She promised she would. She bid as polite a farewell as possible to Ron, although after his behaviour of earlier and the subsequent repercussions, she found it hard to do so. He didn't seem to realise why she was so terse with him.

And then Hermione retreated to her room, trying to read, trying not to think about going to him. She knew she mustn't. He was the one behaving immaturely, but still, she could not help wondering if he was alright, thinking about him, missing him.

Just after ten o'clock there was a knock at her door. She supposed it must be Ginny, and was grateful to have the opportunity to talk to her friend about all that had happened. She went to the door and opened it.

Outside stood the scruffy, gaunt figure of Laszlo Treworgan.

Hermione clasped her hand to her mouth in shock.

She was immediately engulfed with such a riot of emotions that she could not fully identify any of them. Amidst the blissful relief and delight at knowing who the boy really was, she was also filled with a deep unease at the sight of him as this strange dead youth who had suffered so much for so little. She backed into the room to let him in, but quickly spun around, unable to face him until he had transformed.

When she had heard the door close and a soft rustle of clothing, she turned slowly around again. She breathed out audibly with relief as the tall figure of Severus Snape stood across from her. Immediately forgetting the bizarre circumstances of his arrival, she became aware only of his very real presence in the room. He had come to her. He had needed her. He was mending what had been torn.

Severus stood awkwardly, unable to look up. She granted him time and did not move or speak.

After a long while, with his head still lowered and his gaze averted, he spoke to her, his words low and genuine.

"I am sorry."

Hermione walked across to him and slowly placed a hand on his chest, bringing it up until it rested in the very centre.

At last he looked at her. "I behaved petulantly and ignorantly. I understand your actions, and as much as I will despise every moment of the wretched thing, I will tolerate the evening."

Hermione stepped in closer and leaned her head against his chest, simply breathing him in. "Thank you," she exhaled. He enclosed his arms around her and pulled her in tight.

"I am sorry," he repeated, as much to himself as her.

Drawing her hands up his smooth firm back, she rocked against him.

After an age, Hermione eventually drew her head up to look at him. He cupped it in his hands and gazed hard into her eyes.

"Make love to me," she whispered up to him.

He frowned slightly in confusion, staring into her eyes, almost unable to bear her forgiveness.

But at last he lowered his head and brought his lips tenderly to hers. She felt him as if for the first time. His lips were full and warm, and the sweet taste of honey lingered on his breath. She sighed out as he parted her lips with his and breathed softly into her mouth. His hands were still cupping her head and he tilted it a little and slid his tongue delicately inside her. It fluttered so deliciously that she quickly felt her passion rising within her. She remembered their early days of longing and how she had wondered if the ache inside her would ever be assuaged. And now she was here with him. The ache, the fire, burned ever stronger, but to have him quench her need filled her with immeasurable satisfaction.

She brought her hands up and quickly set about the task of unbuttoning his coat. As ever, it took too long and he helped her, occasionally breaking away to remove an item of her clothing, their lips somehow managing never to part.

When he was finally naked, she stepped back briefly to gaze on him. He seemed momentarily embarrassed, but her desire was so clear that he drew himself up. She moved swiftly into him again, her hands running sensuously over his skin, her mouth planting hot needy kisses over the pale flesh of his torso. He inclined his head to look down at her, and raised his arms slightly to the sides and out, partially in a concerted effort to allow her complete freedom in her task, partially in wonder at the sight of this beautiful young woman igniting his body.

She was working her way up his torso, her tongue flitting over the abrasions, the scars, the signs of his suffering. One hand was around his neck, the fingertips lightly catching the silky hairs at the nape. Severus could not help but groan. He could feel himself so hard and ready, he had to concentrate not to throw her forcibly on the bed and bury himself in her immediately.

She had kissed up his face until her sweet breath tickled his ear. Tightening the grip on his neck, she pushed her mouth against the opening of his ear, whispering low and desperate into it.

"Do you know how much I want you? How much I always want you? Do you know how much I love your body? How it haunts my every moment? How I am not complete if you are not with me, beside me, inside me? I want you inside me all the time – I want you filling me, fulfilling me, fucking me every minute of every day."

Severus' mind blurred. Her words were exquisite; never had he heard the like. In the fog of self-doubt, his mind questioned momentarily if she was actually addressing him.

"Don't stop ... don't stop saying those things. Please ... please ... " He had never sounded so needy.

Her hand was down cupping him now. He moaned incessantly.

"How can I stop? I cannot deny it. Severus, you know what you must do now. Take me now ... fuck me so hard I scream your name ... claim me ... claim me as your own ... you know I am yours, you know I am only yours ..."

Hermione's voice was almost disembodied, low and guttural, but still could only be hers.

Severus could no longer stop himself. He pulled back and grabbed her arms hard, pushing her over to the bed and practically throwing her down on it. She writhed amongst the covers, bucking towards him and continuing her delirious pleading, becoming ever more lewd and forceful with each utterance.

"Yes, yes, that's it. Fuck! Your cock is so beautiful; it dictates all I do. I want it. I need it now. Oh fuck, hurry, please hurry. Come into me now, deeper than you've ever been before."

She spread her legs, still jolting up to him. He held her hips, positioned himself quickly and did as she commanded.

The force with which he entered her sent her body up the bed and bent her head forcibly back, a cry of fulfilment torn from her.

He was in all the way, and she momentarily paused in her stream of consciousness as her mind and body adjusted to the feel of him within her. But not giving her time, he pushed again, hard and sharp. She groaned.

"Keep talking, witch. I want to hear it. I want to hear every filthy obscene word of your lust for me."

Amidst the delirious blur around her, Hermione knew her words were comforting him, reassuring him of her devotion and need, physical and emotional.

"Don't stop moving. Don't stop moving your cock. I want to feel it all the time. I want it to pound me, I want it to break me down, remind me of why I am alive. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me so hard." He duly obliged. He pulled out, then plunged fully back in, each time jolting her up the bed with a grunt of possession. "Yes, yes, yes ... god, that's so good, that's so fucking good. Harder, even harder. Make me come screaming, please, oh fuck, please, I beg you. I want you to rip my pleasure out of me. Do it, do it, do it now."

His face furrowed at the woman's total abandon. Was she aware of how crude her language had become? It was as if her pleasure was manifesting itself in her most base and primal needs, disconnected from her mind. But it served only to drive them both to heady release and to confirm to him their bond. His cock surged again and he thrust ever harder into her.

"Oh god, I can feel it, I can feel only you. Your cock is mine. It's all mine." He rubbed hard against her clit. "Oh, fucking hell ... that's too good. Don't stop that. Do you know what you do to me? How you make me feel? I'm so close, I'm so fucking close ..."

So was Severus. The sight, sound and feel of her was perfect. He thrust into her one more time.

Hermione's eyes jolted open and her mouth gaped in astonishment. If he did not know otherwise, he would have described it as a look of terror. She raised herself to grip onto his arms, her nails digging hard into his taut flesh. Her wide eyes locked with his and for a moment she fell completely silent. Then a deep rasping breath was pulled into her and she came apart around him.

He felt it all. She shook uncontrollably as pleasure tore its way through her body. When the first wave passed, he quickly pulled out then in, rubbing her clit once more, sending the pleasure raging through her again. He could feel his cock milked by her as she clenched around him. And to accompany her pleasure, she was screaming. She was screaming his name, so loud and so long, he knew he was hers.

Severus had never seen such perfect surrender to pleasure. And he had done it; he had achieved it for her.

Now he could experience his own.

He pulled back; his balls tightened, his muscles clenched. He thrust with a primeval grunt into her a final time. She clenched down on him again and he came.

His came so hard and so deep that he imagined breaking through into her very soul. He lost track of how often the surge of ecstasy left him. His mind was a brilliant white, at once making things crystal clear, but blinding in its intensity.

And then at last he collapsed heavily onto her, feeling her arms thrown over him, pulling him against her.

They lay still and silent for an age. He breathed deeply into her neck; she stroked his hair.

At length he moved his head to the side and Hermione turned to look at him. Then she spoke the only words she could possibly say.

"I love you."

She saw a brief flash behind his eyes before his features became strangely indistinct. His heavy breathing stopped for a moment and he turned his head away from her.

Hermione did not fear his reaction and continued to stroke him.

She could not see him, but she could tell by the way his breathing had changed what was happening. He was crying.

Time passed.

After a while Severus moved his head back around. His eyes were red and his face damp. Hermione smiled tenderly.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she had reached in for a kiss before he could form words.

They lay silently for what may have been hours. Eventually he spoke, calmly and honestly.

"I cannot recall anyone ever saying that to me before."

She looked at him with a mixture of wonder and sadness, and after more kisses and strokes, said tenderly and reassuringly, "Do you want me to say it again?"

He stared at her with such innocent delight that her heart swelled almost to breaking point.

"Yes."

She kissed him deep, then gazed long into his eyes. "I love you, Severus Snape."

He let his mind process the words, then smiled, "And again."

She returned his smile. "I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

He raised his eyebrows teasingly to demand another.

"I love you."

She was giggling sweetly now. She had hardly noticed him slip his mouth to her breast and his hand between her legs. It was a familiar position with him and brought them both deep comfort and satisfaction. She stroked his head while he suckled her nipple, sometimes gently, sometimes hard, biting down on it as his fingers coaxed her clit. All the while she whispered her devotion in a quiet soothing chant. "I love you ... love you ... love you ..."

He was slow and languorous in his elicitation of pleasure. They both simply wanted to enjoy the deep quiet contentment that passed between them. And when she finally did come, the feeling was overwhelming, but not as shattering as before. This time it washed over her in tender ripples, and she released it to him with a soft gasp of awe.

As they lay in each other's arms before drifting off to sleep, Hermione felt only happiness and satisfaction at her declaration. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware that her words had not been reciprocated, but it did not trouble her. Not tonight. After all that had happened, she was perfectly happy, and as she sank her head onto his chest and breathed in his reassuring aroma, she knew that he was too.

And that was all she needed.

---------------------------------------------------

*sigh*

I'd be happy too ... how about you? LL x