Drawing Closer

Patience, love. It is only a matter of hours now.

I know. I can't concentrate on anything other than being with you tonight. Thank goodness the wizarding world doesn't expect valedictorian speeches!

Pardon?

'I'm here, Severus.'

'Mmmmm... say it again.'

'Severusss...' she sighed, drawing out his name in a breathy hiss. He loved to hear her say his name, and she planned to use that bit of knowledge as best she could on graduation night.

'Ah, witch, you will be the death of me,' he murmured. 'Tell me what you are doing.'

'I've just put on my nightgown, and I am about to climb into bed.'

'Oh, that I could be there with you!' Snape growled. 'Describe your nightgown to me.'

Looking down at herself, Hermione shrugged. 'It's more of a nightshirt, really. Not terribly feminine, I'm afraid. Cotton, short sleeves, comes down to about my knees, lace-up neckline...'

'What color?' he interrupted.

'Gryffindor red,' she snickered.

'Well, in my mind it's going to be Slytherin green,' he shot back, and they both laughed quietly.

'Are you in bed yet?' he asked.

'Just getting in,' she replied, as she slid underneath the sheet.

'Is the neckline of your nightshirt tied shut?'

'Yes.'

'If I was there, I would untie it slowly, pulling the string deliberately through each hole until it was completely unbound. And I would stare into your eyes the entire time.'

With a smile, Hermione put her head on the pillow and shut her eyes, waiting for his next words.

'Unfasten your nightshirt for me, Hermione.'

'What?'

'Unfasten your nightshirt for me. I can't be there to do it. I want you to do it for me.'

'Severus, I... I don't know...'

'Please,' he breathed, and she brought her hand up to the drawstring at her neck.

'What should I do?'

'Untie it slowly. Tease yourself... let your fingers trail along the skin of your neck and between your breasts as you go.'

Hermione did as she was told, weathering alternating waves of embarrassment and arousal. His voice, silken and dangerous, felt almost corporeal in her head. She wanted to touch him so badly it hurt.

'Slide your nightshirt off of one shoulder. Your left,' he continued before she could ask, and she smirked. 'Touch your fingers to your neck – just below your left ear. That is where my lips are. I'm kissing you there, drawing little circles on your skin with the tip of my tongue.' Hermione let her fingers trace the sensitive area he spoke of, making small circular motions with her fingernail. 'Now I'm licking my way down the side of your neck until I reach your shoulder. I start by planting small kisses from the juncture of your neck and your shoulder and then move down your bared shoulder to the top of your arm.'

Hermione stifled a sigh as she let her fingers play out the scene he was describing.

'Now I'm moving back up to your throat where I start to kiss and suck on the skin there. As I do that, my hand moves down to lift your nightshirt up.'

'Severus, I...'

'Shhh,' he soothed. 'This is you and me. I want to make you feel good.'

She continued running her fingers gently over her throat as she pulled her nightshirt over her stomach and breasts. As the material grazed over her nipples, she felt them harden. Her quick intake of breath was minute, but Severus felt it.

'Gods, Hermione, I want to see you.'

'Severus,' she moaned. 'Please, isn't there a way? Can't you come to me? No one would have to know...' She trailed off, but she knew what his answer would be.

Cursing softly under his breath, he confirmed her doubts. 'No. You know we can't. I want to so badly, you know that. But we can't risk your education.'

'Or your job,' she finished.

'Or my job,' he agreed quietly. 'We're getting so much closer, love. Just a little while more, and then there will be nothing stopping us. Then my hands, my mouth, my tongue, my body will claim yours as mine.'

Shivering at his words, Hermione shifted on her bed. 'I'll wait for you, Severus.'

'Touch yourself, Hermione,' he ordered, his voice husky. 'Touch yourself for me. Play with your nipples. My tongue is on your nipples, licking them, my lips are sucking them gently. My hands are running over them, feeling them harden in my palms.'

She rubbed her hands over her breasts, rolling her stiffened nipples between her fingers. As she arched her back, a moan escaped her.

'Tell me what you see,' Snape whispered, and the heady, desperate tone to his voice pronounced the dampness between her thighs.

Before she could stop herself, she whispered back, 'No. I'll show you, instead,' and she reached her mind out to his.

A moment later, she could see him standing beside her, watching the scene in her mind unfold before them.

'Keep talking,' she murmured.

As Snape described what he wanted to do to her, the figures before them portrayed what she saw inside. His dark hair brushed against her stomach and chest as he tongued and sucked on her hardened nipples. His hands traveled from her shoulders down to her waist and hips, then to behind her back, where he pulled her up closer to him, taking her breasts even further into his mouth.

In her bed, Hermione continued to touch herself.

'I'm going to work my way down your body, kissing and licking you all the way. My tongue is circling your navel while my hands move around to cup your bottom.'

Real Hermione's hand drifted down to draw lazy patterns around her belly button as Fantasy Snape's mouth covered her abdomen.

'Yesss...' both Hermiones moaned simultaneously.

'Now I'm spreading your legs with my hands." As the Real Hermione's thighs parted, Fantasy Snape traced his fingers down to her knees and back up, pushing her legs aside as he went. The Hermione that was watching all this drew in a sharp breath and turned to find the Watching Snape staring at her.

'I want to taste you,' Watching Snape moaned, and Watching Hermione started.

'Remember, we are not really here,' he sighed reluctantly. 'We can only tell or show each other what we would like to do, but we cannot feel each other physically. That is why I want you to touch yourself in the way that I cannot. At least,' he amended, 'not yet.'

Looking into lust-filled eyes, a thought occurred to Hermione.

'Are you touching yourself, too?' she asked.

'Yes.'

This thought sent a strange pulling sensation through the Real Hermione's groin, and her breath quickened as her fingers continued to wander over her stomach and thighs.

'Now,' continued Watching Snape, as he stood above her, bending down so that his mouth was only inches from hers, 'I want to taste you.'

Fantasy Snape's mouth moved down to the mound of moist curls between her thighs, and he began licking her in long, slow strokes. Real Hermione let out a loud gasp as her fingers began rubbing through her own wet folds.

Watching Hermione shivered.

Fantasy Snape pushed her thighs further apart with his hands, moving his head in slow circles as he continued to caress every inch of her pussy with his mouth. Fantasy Hermione moaned as one hand moved down to tangle in his hair. With the tip of his tongue, he explored each crease and fold. He sucked her lips in between his own, rubbing her most sensitive spot with his thumb as he lapped at her wetness as a dog laps at water. When he stiffened his tongue and probed inside of her, she moaned loudly.

'I want to hear you scream,' he growled. 'I will make you scream.'

He quickly set up a rhythm that soon had all three Hermiones panting for release. Long, slow strokes of his tongue were interspersed with a sudden thrust into her opening or fast, hard flicks of her clitoris. Real Hermione's fingers were moving at an almost blinding speed, rubbing her sensitive nub and delving inside herself to mimic his movements. Fantasy Hermione had reached behind her to grasp the headboard; her head thrown back, she cried out his name over and over.

He licked her faster.

She ground herself into his face.

Her fingers rubbed her clit harshly, coated in her own juices.

His breath came in short, fast spurts, accompanied by a low growling sound.

She arched her back.

He used his fingers to spread her open further, closing his mouth around her throbbing button. His lips sucked at her gently as he rolled his tongue around her endlessly.

Licking...

Sucking...

Moaning....

Thrashing...

Thrusting...

Her eyes met his, and she came.

In her room, the Real Hermione muffled her scream into her bed pillow as she slammed her thighs tightly around her own hand.

On the bed, Fantasy Hermione screamed without abandon, her hips bucking wildly against Snape's mouth as he held onto her and rode out her orgasm. His long hair flew about wildly as his tongue continued to plunder her cunt.

'SEVERUS! AAAH, SEVERUS!'

In his room, Snape's hand moved faster and faster, up and down his hardened shaft, not realizing that he was moaning with her.

Looking into his eyes, she begged him, 'Inside me. Please. I need you, now...please!'

'Gods!' he cried as Fantasy Snape wrenched his mouth away from her and pulled himself up her body. Still looking into her eyes, he took his cock into his hand and used the head of it to draw small circles around her still swollen clit.

'Now, please, now, gods, Severus, now!' Her pleading turned into a breathy cry that mingled with his own ragged wail as he thrust himself completely into her in one stroke.

On his knees on the bed, he lifted her legs over his shoulders and began slamming into her with no pretense of tenderness.

In her bed, Hermione felt the wetness trickling down her bottom as she filled herself first with one finger, than with two.

The Real Snape's head was now thrown back, the expression on his face bordering on pained. His fingers played up and down his cock, twisting around the head.

Watching Hermione and Watching Snape stood mere inches apart, eyes glued to one another, their chests heaving with their labored breathing.

Fantasy Snape grunted louder and louder with each thrust. His balls slapped against Fantasy Hermione's bottom as he tried to go even deeper every time. She cried out as he drove into her over and over again and reached up to gently tease his nipples.

Slam!

Slam!

Slam!

'Gods, Hermione!'

'Severus! Yes, yes, Severus!'

Thrust!

Thrust!

She raked her fingers over his chest, his arms, his neck... anywhere that she could reach. When she reached around to grab his buttocks and pull him even deeper into her, he broke.

'I'm coming... oh, gods, witch, I'm coming!'

Slam!

Slam!

'Yes, come inside me! Ooooh... now!'

Fantasy Snape threw back his head and let loose a howl that would have put even Lupin to shame as he felt himself shoot deep inside her.

Real Snape roared out her name as his hot, thick liquid spurted over his thighs and stomach.

Watching Snape reached for her. He could not touch her.

They continued facing each other as their hearts raced. On the bed, Fantasy Snape and Hermione had collapsed together, their ragged breathing the only sound.

Tears filled the eyes of all three Hermiones. One from the powerful lust that had just infused every pore of her being... two with the anguish and unfairness of not being able to feel the skin of the man she wanted more than any book she'd ever read.

'I don't know if I can keep doing this,' she admitted.

'I'm sorry,' he answered, trying to regain control of himself. She was shocked to hear these words from him, but made no comment. 'If it is too difficult, I will try to leave you alone.'

'Can you?'

He looked at her for a long time, watching a tear trace its way down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. Oh, how he longed to reach down and catch it with the tip of his tongue!

Could he stay away from her? He knew the answer, although he'd been trying to deny it to himself for weeks. He wasn't just thinking of her now when she was in class; his thoughts turned to her all during the day and could not seem to leave her at night. Indeed, he had taken to watching the clock more than he ever had, counting the minutes until he could invade her thoughts again. Now that they both knew of their mutual attraction, he felt no shame in his desire for her. His thoughts, his fantasies, had become more wanton. While on patrol at night, he often found himself noticing small nooks and hidden recesses in the corridors that he had never paid much attention to before. Suddenly he was picturing himself and Hermione there, entangled in all sorts of lewd and gravity-defying positions, tempting fate with the possibility of being discovered. These thoughts did not seem wrong to him.

He felt no hesitation toward wanting to fuck this woman. However, allowing himself to feel affection toward her was an entirely different story.

Was he bordering on obsession? Yes.

But that didn't make him a bad person... right?

She was still staring at him, waiting for an answer. He ached, both from the exertion of their imagined coupling and from wanting to actually feel her moving underneath him.

'No,' he answered truthfully.

'Oh, thank Merlin!' she sighed, and he laughed. She shivered when he did – it seemed that his laughter could arouse her as much as his voice and his imagination. After all, they were three very rare finds, indeed!

'I should leave you now,' he told her. 'Do you think you'll be able to sleep?'

'Oh, I imagine I will,' she purred. 'And you?'

'Does a Centaur shit in the woods?' he smirked and was rewarded with a burst of laughter from Hermione. He was amazed at how good it made him feel... It had been ages since he had made anyone laugh like that.

'Goodnight, Hermione,' he whispered, and as she felt him pull back from her mind, she opened her eyes.

It was probably just because we could see each other this time, she rationalized to herself as she muttered a Cleansing Charm and curled up under her blankets. It made it seem more intimate. That's all.