Chapter 9

Hermione followed Severus into his cottage.

Did he really just say what I thought he said? Don't hesitate, Granger, he might change his mind.

Inside the sitting room, Severus stood, arms folded across his chest, scowling at her.

"We do this," he growled, "and if I find myself the least bit bound to you – forced to call you my master –"

"Mistress."

"Master. So help me Circe and Hecate, I will take steps. I will not serve another, is that clear?"

Hermione could only nod.

"Now," he said, "how do you propose we begin?"

Hermione took a step forward, tracing her fingers gently over the buttons of his shirt.

"First," she said, "I think you're a bit overdressed."

"And you, Miss Granger?" he asked, stepping in closer to her.

"And I believe I am as well," she whispered as one of his hands toyed with the collar of her shirt and the other wound itself in her hair.

"And then?"

"And then . . . the spell we recite at the moment of our shared, er, climax is," Hermione found she could barely breathe, "iuncti iuvamus, iuncti iuvamur. We should, er, experience a silver light enveloping us, and then . . ." Her eyes fluttered closed.

"And then, as we are joined, power will flow through us." Severus' voice was husky, as if with desire. His thumb traced across her lower lip, pulling it down slightly.

"Yes," she whispered.

"And then, as we are one," he bent to whisper in her ear, "my power awakens."

"And we are joined."

His lips were on hers, her mouth opening beneath his, accepting, welcoming, inviting his tongue.

She groaned into his mouth as his grip on her hair tightened. She worked her hands between them, worrying at the stubborn buttons of his shirt until they came undone and her hands were on his chest.

He broke their kiss and pulled away, shirt hanging.

"Shirt," he rasped, "off. Now."

Hermione was only too happy to comply, telling herself this was no time to be concerned over cup size or the scarring on her torso at the base of her ribcage. Her shirt, grubby from her exertions in the garden, flew from her hands and landed on the sofa, later to be annexed by Jonathan as one of his catly prerogatives. The brassiere followed, falling to the floor.

"Beautiful."

Hermione grinned a bit saucily. "How long has it been?" she asked.

"Too long," Severus growled, crushing her into his embrace and backing her out of the room.

She stumbled over the threshold and into his arms. His bedroom was small, just at the top of the stairs, tucked into the eaves. The evening sunlight streamed through the small dormer window, limning Severus with gold.

"Angel," she whispered.

"Demon," he replied with a tight grin, but whether he meant himself or her, Hermione did not stop to wonder. He caressed her breasts, cupping and squeezing, tracing the swells and lines with his hands, lips, and tongue.

"Oh, Severus." His name was a prayer, a groan.

"Beautiful."

Hermione wanted to laugh, to protest, but his hands were moving lower, fingers gentle against the scarring, to the waistband of her jeans.

Her hands were busy as well, cupping him through his trousers, feeling his arousal against the cloth. He wanted her: she finally had proof.

"Let me," she murmured, sinking to her knees to release him.

"Oh, gods," he groaned as her hands, warm and gentle, pulled his trousers and pants down, and he stepped out of them, pulling his socks along.

"No socks." She grinned. "Good." And she took him into her mouth.

He was hard, tasting of salt and smelling of the musky scent she would forever identify as Severus.

"God, Hermione," he groaned, winding his hand in her hair, resisting the urge to thrust.

Hermione did not reply, but suckled and teased with her tongue and hands, licking and fondling.

"Hermione," he groaned again, "please, I need to . . ."

"What?" she asked, drawing back. But her question was unanswered as he pulled her to her feet and walked her backwards to his bed. As she sank down onto it, she fumbled for the button and zip, shimmying the jeans past her hips, catching the knickers and pulling them off.

She was more fortunate than Severus, catching the edge of her socks in her toes and pulling them off. As she looked up, she caught him staring at her.

"What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"You're lovely," he whispered, bending low over her, urging her back onto the bed.

Hermione reclined as he explored, tasted, touched, drove her to the edge. She whimpered.

"I need you," she begged, wantonly wriggling upon the bed beneath his touch.

"Yes," he murmured, his devilish fingers rising from her clit, stopping only to taste her sweetness.

"Please," she begged.

"Yes," he whispered, kissing and caressing his way up to her face.

"Please," she begged again.

"Oh, yes."

And he thrust into her, surely, strongly.

Hermione groaned, glad Severus had not asked her how long it had been for her. Ron had been the last, and that had been bordering on four years ago. But while Ron had been pleasant enough, Severus was a completely different experience.

While Ron never paid her mind once he was in her, Severus reached down to where they were joined.

"Move," he murmured. "Move with me."

Hermione could only comply, lifting her hips as Severus began to gently caress her clit.

Hermione wondered if she would be able to form a coherent sentence ever again.

"Iuncti iuvamus, iuncti iuvamur, Severus began to chant as his fingers followed their inexorable course.

As the light seemed to brighten in the small room, Hermione found her voice,

"Iuncti iuvamus, iuncti iuvamur."

"Again, my angel. Iuncti iuvamus, iuncti iuvamur."

Hermione could only echo:

"Iuncti iuvamus, iuncti iuvamur."

And the golden light in the room brightened and then faded as the setting sun sank below the horizon, but as the shadows grew, a silvery light seemed to come from the point at which the couple on the bed was joined.

The light grew, enveloping them.

And Hermione was coming, and it felt as if her very soul was rushing from her body, and at the same time, she felt Severus above her, striving, thrusting erratically, filling her with his essence, his life, his magic.

And still Hermione was coming, and Severus was calling out, and the light was growing brighter, and the entire room seemed to expand and then contract. And as Severus came, head thrown back, the room seemed to explode in a burst of silver flame.

In the aftermath, they lay together, sweaty, sticky, and gasping, and Hermione brought her hand to his cheek.

"Do you feel that?" she asked, for the very room seemed to pulse with magic.

"Yes," he whispered, not opening his eyes. And then Severus waved his hand, and the light on his bedside table sprung to life.

"We've . . . we've done it," Hermione whispered jubilantly, for to speak louder would seem a desecration.

"Yes," he whispered, pulling the blanket free from beneath them and covering them both with it, whispering a cleansing spell as he drew her towards him.

And worn out from their exertions, she slept, encircled and safe in his arms.

"This is a bad idea."

"It will be fine. You'll be fine."

"I'm weaker than a kitten . . ."

"And as fierce as a lion."

"Pray do not insult me with your House."

Hermione laughed and tossed a tea towel at him.

"Just dry the dishes; we need to make room on the table for the drinks."

Severus grumbled and set to his task. Hermione was busying herself with the sausages and cheesy bits when the wards around the apartment shimmered and a bell rang.

"They're here," she said, noticing, as she rushed to greet her friends, the subtle tightening of Severus' hands on the tea towel.

Cheerful and noisy, Neville, Harry, Ginny, Draco, and Blaise burst into her sitting room.

"So, where's the bloke, Granger?" asked Blaise, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek.

"In the other room, but we're not . . . not dating."

"Nah, just shagging each other senseless so you appear at work looking ravaged and content," scoffed Draco.

Hermione paused. Whatever she had with Severus wasn't a traditional relationship. It had evolved since the morning they had awoken when, as she was gathering her clothes and spelling the cat hair off of her shirt, Severus had padded down the stairs, gathered her into his arms, and murmured in her ear, "Just where do you think you're going?"

She had not left his cottage until the next morning.

But Severus would not be beholden to her, either, refused to allow her to leave more than a toothbrush and a change of clothes, or discuss any plans for the future.

"I will not," he had said, "permit you to be shackled to me. Nor shall I permit myself the same fate. We will proceed one day at a time."

"He's my . . ." she began to answer.

"Friend," came a voice from the kitchen.

The silence, of all the silences that had reigned since Hermione had first discovered Severus Snape alive and well, ten months previous, was immense.

And then the place broke into pandemonium. Harry wiped tears from his eyes as Draco threw himself at Severus, embracing him and crying, "Severus, Severus." Neville was exclaiming and hugging Blaise, and Ginny squealed and launched herself at Hermione, giggling and laughing, "I knew it! I knew it!"

Over the noise and the jubilation, Hermione found Severus' gaze slightly moist. And Severus smiled, first one corner of his mouth and then the other.

"Friend?" she mouthed at him.

"My girlfriend," he replied.

And Hermione smiled and laughed and hugged Ginny.

Later that night, as they curled together in Hermione's bed, hands clasped, feet and legs entangled, Severus spoke. "I may have been slightly inaccurate earlier this evening when I called you my girlfriend."

"Oh?" Hermione's throat tightened and her stomach dropped.

"Yes," Severus replied, leaning in to kiss her and resting his forehead against hers. "I meant to say–"

"What?"

"My love."

AN: Thanks and praise go to Subversa for her impeccable beta job. She's the best! Thanks also go to the lovely Lulabelle72 for the fabulous prompt. I have made no money from this endeavor, but I have had a wonderful time!