Finish What You Began

This time, it was Severus who woke alone in the bed, although he could hear Hermione moving about the room, tidying up.

What the hell happened last night?

For all that he'd acknowledged that he wished to continue the relationship with Hermione, deepen it, he had been entirely unprepared for the intensity of passion he'd felt last night.

Lust, he knew. He could do lust. He could even do lust with affection.

But passion? Passion implied something else. It implied more than the physical, more than the casual. It meant need. It meant craving. It meant... fear. Loss.

He felt his fists clench and couldn't control them. Just as, in the darkness of their room last night, he'd been unable to control himself, unable to control her.

Could he do this? Could he do passion? Could he give up control?

Or was it now too late to ask those questions?

He lay rigid until he heard her go into the bathroom and close the door. When he heard the water running, he opened his eyes and pushed himself upright. He looked around at the tidy room...so sterile and orderly...and then at the wrecked bedclothes.

Order. Chaos.

He'd lived most of his life balanced on the edge between the two. When the war had ended he'd craved order and had lived quite contentedly for the past fifteen years, going about his business. Order.

And now Passion stood before him. Tempting him with her siren song. If he let himself go... if he let himself embrace her, he'd be dancing on that knife again.

He heard the water shut off and the sound of her humming as the air dried her and she dressed. He imagined how she looked, hair wild until she wrestled it into a plait that hung down her back, arms and legs touched with the beginnings of sun tan, breasts ripe and heavy in the heat, and her woman flesh... her cunt, her quim, her core... Dear God.

She'd stripped herself utterly bare for him, exposing all of her secrets to his fingers and eyes in the dim light of the room.

Trust.

Chaos.

The door opened and she emerged, long legs clad in tangerine-coloured shorts, an ivory silk tank top clinging to her curves.

She saw him and smiled. "Good morning!"

He flung himself into the abyss.

~oOo~

Hermione knew the instant he woke up, of course. She could sense the altered tension of his body and made sure to make enough noise that he'd know she was there.

When he didn't open his eyes to greet her, she knew something was wrong. When she saw his hands curl into anguished knots, she'd stood, watching as he struggled with something too great, too terrifying, to share.

She knew that he wouldn't open his eyes while she was still in the room, so she'd gone into the bathroom to shower and dress. She hadn't cried until she was deep in the shower with the falling water to stifle any sound.

She was so afraid.

She'd known that he was important... he was her partner, for heaven's sake. And her best friend... he'd filled the gap that had opened when Harry and Ron had married and moved on. But now he was her lover. Really, the first lover she'd ever had, as she refused to count Ron in any equation that contained Severus.

And he was considering letting her go. She knew that as surely as she knew the sun would set that evening. He was considering stepping back, and she'd have to survive it if he did.

Could she do that?

Could she return to a life of research and affection? Of orderly sterility? Of mind alone, devoid of heart, body, and soul?

If she had to.

She wouldn't lose him... Whatever part of him he wished to share, she would take.

She could go back in behaviour, and she would if he required it. But her heart... her heart wouldn't go back. She loved him.

That wasn't going to change, regardless of his choice.

She drew a great, shuddering breath and turned off the tap, standing still for the drying jets of air to do their work. She stood naked before the foggy mirror, braiding her hair and studying the blurry outline of her body. What was it about that body that had the power to move him so? How was it able to contain and spill so much love so suddenly? She pulled on her clothes mechanically and slipped her feet into sandals.

She was ready to face the world; ready to face him.

She flung open the door and emerged, surrounded by steam. Her eyes immediately went to the naked man sitting at the centre of the bed, staring at her with such a mixture of anguish and hope, she almost couldn't bear it. For a moment, she couldn't tell what was going to happen, and her heart began to break.

She pasted a cheerful smile onto her face...Fight for him!...and carolled, "Good morning!"

Everything hung in the balance for a second longer.

Then, his face relaxed into a smile and he held out his hand to her.

"Good morning, Hermione."

She flung herself into his arms.

~oOo~

The day passed much as the previous one had. They spent time soaking up the sun's rays. Hermione finished her book early that afternoon and hurried to the ship's library to pick out something new to read. While she was gone, Severus went looking for Brad and Brianna. He found them, seated side by side in a glider overlooking the putting green. He pulled up a chair and faced them, effectively blocking their view of the ninth hole.

"So, here's what we're going to do," he said, leaning forward and fixing them each with an icy stare. "We're going to call George Weasley and tell him to meet us all when the ship docks tomorrow. At that point, we'll sit down and figure out how many laws you've broken and what we're going to do about it."

The two sat staring at him, gobsmacked.

"What do you know about George Weasley? And why should he care about you?" After a long pause, Brianna finally broke the silence.

"I know that he owns Wizarding Waves. And he cares about me because Hermione's practically a member of his family. And...if you've met him...I'm the man responsible for the ear."

"But..." Brad blinked. "But he said it was a war injury. That it had been severed by a Death Eater."

Severus smirked. "It was." He casually rolled up his sleeves.

Two perfect tans became beiges.

"So, I'm thinking that we have a simple case of fraud, embezzlement, and blackmail here. You two...and the elf, probably...have cut back on staff so that there are no Pursers on duty after midnight, done away with the scholarly presentations, and pocketed the salaries that were to be paid to the staff and speakers Mr Weasley believes you've hired. In addition, you targeted the couples who stayed in our stateroom for "Couples Counselling", using Parrotjuice Potion to induce them to indulge their basest urges, documenting such indulgences and then threatening them with exposure."

He eyed their perfect faces and bodies with suspicion. "I suppose you're using Parrotjuice Potion now, as well. Good God, people, did nobody tell you the stuff was addictive if used continuously over an extended period of time?"

Four angry blue eyes glared at him. He decided to go on.

"You embedded a Psykread Charm in the door of the stateroom...which is a Class A felony, by the way, as Psykread Charms are only to be used for therapeutic purposes by licensed professionals... otherwise, they're a mind-rape for which you should be hanged, drawn, and quartered. I'm fairly certain that Mr Weasley didn't obtain access to that particular charm, so one of you must have done so. I'll be interested in learning where you got it. Shall I continue?"

The two sat, mute.

"Fine. I realised what you'd done the first night when you selected a television series about a retired spy for me to view. I could forgive that...what I can't forgive is that you deliberately played on Hermione's insecurities as you did."

"Well, it all turned out okay in the end, didn't it?" Brad had found his tongue at last. "You and your Hermione have hooked up, she's not so insecure anymore, and life is good! No need to bring old George into it, now, is there? We'll just fold up our tents and leave. No harm done!"

"Not so fast!" Severus ordered as the pair made as if to stand. "Not to sound too cliché, but I'm giving the orders, now. And no, you're not leaving. And yes, old George is most definitely coming into it."

He waited until they subsided back into their seats.

"So, the Psykread Charm. Who has the ability to interpret it?"

"Nobody," said Brianna. "We don't know what it sees, specifically, we just do what the computer tells us to do."

"And who operates the computer?" Years of interrogating second-years had prepared him for dealing with these two. He asked the question, knowing the answer, but wanted to be sure they were telling the truth.

"Izzy," answered Brad. Brianna nodded. "Izzy ran the whole show. She's one smart elf! She used to work at St Mungo's and she brought the charm and the computer program with her."

"Does she hold the memories? For the blackmail?"

"What?" Brad looked startled for a moment. "No, elves handle memories differently, so we can't use her for that. And..." Here he looked briefly embarrassed. "...she doesn't like to watch people screwing, so... well... she doesn't actually have any of the memories."

"So it's just you two."

"Yes," Brianna nodded. "Us and the couples. Izzy handles the charms and the money."

"Who else is in on this?"

"Nobody," Brad, this time. "Just us and Izzy."

He looked deeply into both sets of blue eyes and saw that they were telling the truth.

"It's too bad that you won't be able to cash in anymore," he said.

"I'm sure we can work something out," cooed Brianna, pouring sex into her voice.

"Oh, I doubt it," he declared and, raising the wands he'd Summoned from their pockets as he'd approached them from behind, cast two perfect Petrificus charms and waited to see whether they'd fall forward onto their faces from the glider. They didn't, to his everlasting regret.

"So here you are! I thought you were waiting at the pool." Hermione stepped up beside him, her eyes fixed upon the Petrified pair. "What's up?"

Severus explained briefly, his eyes searching her face for signs of distress that she'd been seduced and spied upon by a pair of blackmailing thieves.

Her eyes went hard as she turned to look at Brad and Brianna. "I can't believe you did this to people! You used the Psykread Charm to give people what they wanted most in the world, and then you used it to shame them. You deserve everything you're going to get!"

She looked back at Severus. "What are they going to get?"

His face was grim. "Well, Obliviated, for starters." He saw her flinch. "I know it's harsh, but they're carrying around other people's private memories. Those have got to be destroyed. After that... well, it's up to George."

She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Right. It's necessary. They can't be allowed to victimise anyone ever again. So... wipe the charms, too."

He was shocked. "All of them? Turn them into squibs?"

"No, Severus, not all of them. But I don't want them to have memory of even one of our inventions. I counted twenty-three total in use on the ship, by the way."

"Really? My final count was twenty-four... They're using Parrotjuice."

"Oh? I wonder what they really look like. I guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?"

~oOo~

Hermione waited patiently while Severus delivered two Petrified and semi-lobotomised Parrotjuice junkies into the care of the ship's captain. Security elves were dispatched to apprehend Izzy. They returned speedily and placed her, with Brad and Brianna, in a specially warded brig. Not even Izzy would be able to perform magic there.

"Twenty-five," Severus whispered to Hermione, who giggled. She'd designed the complex warding system the brig's protections were based on.

Their stateroom looked exactly the same when they reached it late that afternoon. The television remained silent.

"How much of this was them and how much was us, do you think?" Hermione asked as he began to undress her.

"It's all us, Hermione. That's why I didn't kill them. They showed us what was already there."

"You mean I've always loved you?" she asked, obediently raising her arms over her head so he could pull the tank top free.

"Well, not always. I am sure that you didn't love me when you set me on fire, or stole from me, or hexed me in that godforsaken shack and then, years later, left me to die a lonely, painful death. But I am sure that you loved me when we boarded this ship. And I... cared... for you, as well. The Customisation Charms wouldn't have worked as they did, otherwise."

She smiled quietly to herself at the admission and stood still, content to let him unbuckle, unsnap, and unzip the shorts and send them zooming to the floor.

"I've been wondering all day what you were wearing under that outfit." His eyes gleamed as they rested on her berry-coloured nipples poking at the peach lace covering them, then roved lower to the bikini briefs that concealed her secrets.

She stepped closer to him, raising her hands to unbutton his shirt. He was less compliant than she had been, reaching around to unhook her bra, pushing her arms down so it could join her shorts and tank on the floor. Within seconds, the matching peach panties had completed the set and she stood naked before him.

Shrugging out of the shirt, he stepped back to look at her. Suddenly, the rays of the setting sun flooded the room, turning her hair and skin as radiant as her smile. His hands went to his own belt, and soon he, too, was standing naked in the light.

He held out his hand and led her to the bed, reaching to pull down the coverlet. It came as no surprise to him whatsoever that the sheets, tonight, were the same peach colour as her bra and bikini pants had been.

Even without Brad and Brianna, the room continued to operate, only now, it was on their side.

He gestured for her to lie down. For a moment, he stood at the bedside, looking down at her, feeling his guards slip away. He was as open to her as she was to him, and oddly, he didn't mind.

"Hermione," he whispered.

Her smile broadened and she spread her legs.

"Please come to me, Severus. Now."

Seconds later, he was lying over her, kissing her passionately, left hand buried in her hair, right hand between her legs, finding her damp heat and stroking, circling as he'd done the previous evening. Continuing the movement with his thumb, he gently inserted two fingers, feeling her silken heat clench around him as he pushed... withdrew... pushed in again, feeling her moisture easing his way and hearing the quiet sounds she made with each intrusion escalate to moans.

Her own fingers moved downward to grip his cock, moving her hand from its base to the tip and back again, her thumb swirling across the tip in a motion similar to what he was doing, in miniature, to her clit. His voice met hers, murmuring quiet reassurances against her lips as he began to thrust into her grip, grinding against her thigh and feeling her hips rise to meet the thrusts of his fingers.

This was moving much faster than he'd intended. She was arching and twisting, making incoherent sounds and pulling him closer. Gathering all the control he could muster, he withdrew his fingers from her and allowed her to guide his penis to her, dragging it down through her folds and across the hard nub of her clit, fitting the head into the place he wished to be more than anywhere in the entire world.

He pushed forward a little, freezing at the first sound she uttered. Gazing into eyes that were glazed with desire, yet touched with a hint of unease, he smiled.

"Easy, Hermione," he rasped. "We'll take this slow and easy."

Gently he rocked forward and retreated, stretching her more with each inward movement. She imitated the rhythm, rocking upwards against him, incrementally back, then upwards again.

Reaching behind him, he pulled her knee up, opening her wider and tilting her for easier access before returning to her clit, rubbing and circling to match the rhythm of their bodies' movements.

In... back... in...

He was nudging deeper with every gentle thrust forward, feeling the tight passage give way before him.

... back... in... back...

Deeper still. She was moving more urgently, now, meeting him with increasing force, trying to pull him deeper... faster.

Sweat erupted from every pore of his body as he tried to maintain control, to avoid hurting or frightening her at all costs.

... in... back...

And then she won. Digging her fingers into his buttocks, she pulled him down into her as she propelled herself upward, impaling herself on him with the same courage and passion she'd shown for her entire adult life.

As he held himself perfectly still, buried within her, trying to give her time to adjust, she pulled her other knee up, tucking it against his side, curving her calf across his buttocks and further deepening his entry.

Her gaze sharpened, focussing on his.

"Now," she said, loosening her grip so he could pull back, then tightening again so that he was forced forward. "Let it go."

"You don't understand," he whispered, flexing within her. "I could hurt you."

She pulled her mouth to his for a long, deep kiss.

When she drew back, she smiled, then looked down to where they were joined.

"I don't care. Let go... NOW!"

With that, she twisted and squeezed, and his control shattered. He began thrusting, pulling almost all the way out and then burying himself as deeply as he could with quick, sharp movements of his hips. She met him thrust for thrust, sometimes shifting to change the angle, crying out when he hit a spot... the spot...

"There!"

He grasped her hip firmly, keeping her angled just so as he moved with increasing ferocity.

He was going to lose it... he was losing it...

Still propped on one arm, he pushed himself higher, staring down at her, noting the flush that spread upwards across her torso, her breasts, her throat, her face.

His Hermione. His brilliant, beautiful Hermione was writhing beneath him. Around him. Her eyes were blank now. Her body was beginning to convulse... he could feel the tremors beginning deep within, the spasms that clutched at him, pulling him inward again and again.

She screamed and arched, then went rigid beneath him as he began slamming into her without regard for her comfort, for anything other than finding perfect release within this spectacular woman. She relaxed, accepting him even as she recovered from her own shattering climax.

Then, amazingly, she began to move again, rocking into his pounding thrusts, gazing into his eyes as his tension grew... and grew... until he finally spilled inside her in a blinding, searing convulsion that drew an agonised cry from his lips.

He collapsed on top of her, unable to roll aside to spare her his weight, gasping for breath. He thought he might have died for a moment, but he didn't care one bit.

~oOo~

Hermione lay dazed, her hand moving through his sweat-soaked hair.

What he had given her... What they had shared... There were no words.

She smiled ruefully. If she knew him, though...and herself...they'd twist themselves up in knots trying to find those words that didn't exist.

"Severus," she whispered.

"Mmmmmm?" an exhalation against her throat.

"Nothing, love. Just Severus."

As she lay holding him, she had the fleeting thought that, if their lovemaking continued to be so vigorous, she should consider brushing up on those cushioning charms. She smiled and closed her eyes. She didn't care one bit.