Chapter 6

August

It had been over three weeks since Severus Snape had left Grimmauld Place. His room remained untouched, although several vials of the potion, as well as their notes, had vanished later that day.

Ron had taken it all in stride, figuring that being pardoned, the man had simply gone on to a new life. It really wasn't of interest to him as to where Snape had gone, although Ron repeatedly said that he wished him well. Harry was ecstatic at first, having finally convinced the new Ministry that not only did Severus deserve a pardon, but that – being alive – he was to be left alone. But he was also distraught, thinking that perhaps he had not been hospitable enough, had not convinced Snape of his sincerity.

Hermione, though, was sick with worry, although she tried her hardest not to let on to her best friends. She was terrified by the thought that he was ill somewhere and had no one to look after him. And what would he do when he ran out of potions, she thought frantically. Wherever he was, she hoped he'd be able to recreate the brew.

Later that afternoon, though, she felt a familiar sensation, and her heart leapt into her throat. The coin! Severus – he was having a seizure. But where was he? Grabbing her wand, she closed her eyes and squeezed the coin.

She landed with a thud on the top of a grassy hillock. The wind whipped her hair painfully across her face, causing her eyes to water. Where was she? Looking around, nothing looked very familiar. But there was a cabin a few metres away – could it be? Stumbling toward it, she became convinced. This must be his grandfather's house, she thought with no small surprise. He couldn't have been living here this whole time as a Muggle! No matter, she thought, shaking her head. He was hurt, and she had to get to him. Where he'd been was of no importance if she couldn't find him.

Opening the door to the house, she peered inside. Remembering at the last minute that using large quantities of magic would set off unwanted alarms, she grabbed the Muggle torch by the door and shone it around, expecting to see Severus' twitching body on the floor. But the house, surprisingly, was empty. Where could he be? The coin had brought her here – he, or it, had to be around here somewhere. Racing back outside, she jogged back toward where she had appeared. Maybe he had been outside, fetching water or wood for a fire. As she approached the hill overlooking the water, though, she saw him walking away from her down the coastline.

"Severus!" she called, one hand holding back the hair from her face. The black figure spun around, scanning the horizon with his dark eyes. When they landed on her, he froze, watching her jog toward him. When she finally caught up to him, they stared into each other's eyes.

"What on earth is going on?" she asked, breathless. "Are you alright? You're not hurt – have you had a seizure?"

"Miss Granger." It was a statement, not a greeting. "I demand that you tell me at once how you traced me here."

"You – you mean you haven't had a seizure?" she asked, confused. "But the coin – the coin signaled me."

"I threw it into the ocean," he said coldly.

"Oh," she sighed, deflating. "The coin - I thought you were –"

His eyes flickered for a split second. "You came to help me." Again, a statement, not a question.

She looked up into his eyes. "Yes," she replied simply.

He turned away from her and began walking back toward the house silently. Wordlessly, she followed him, unsure of what to say. By the time they reached the house, though, she realized that words weren't entirely necessary. Deep down, she knew why he had fled – it was the same reason that she had stayed at Grimmauld.

He paused, his hand on the latch. "What are you afraid of, Severus?" she asked in a whisper.

"You," he whispered back.

She walked up behind him and gently, tentatively, placed her hand on his back. He stiffened under her touch, but she insisted. Pressing in close to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head upon his back, deeply inhaling his scent.

"Miss Granger, I don't think –" he began, but her hands worked their way inside of his shirt, their coldness an intense contrast to his burning hot skin.

"Shhh, Severus," she said quietly. "It's alright. I – I want you too."

Whipping around to face her, he said roughly, "I have no idea what you –"

"Yes, you do, Severus," she whispered back at him. "That's what all of this has been about – for both of us. Fear – of rejection, of not having a place, of not knowing what we want. But we're here, and we've found – something, a start, at least. Don't be afraid of that," she implored, her hands caressing the bare, smooth skin of his chest.

He trembled under her touch, and slowly, his hands came up, hovering just to either side of her face. "Miss Gra – Hermione," he said softly, "I have nothing to offer but a life of potions and pain and this ridiculous hilltop. You could have anything you wanted."

"After the battle, I felt lost. Dead. Until you gave me something to work on, to work toward, that is – then I felt alive, like I was useful. With you gone these past few weeks, I felt lost again. We fought that battle to stay alive, Severus. Let's not waste that," she said.

Severus could barely believe his ears. This young woman, this beautiful, intelligent creature who could have the world at her feet, wanted – him. Overcome, he lowered his head to hers and kissed the lips he had dreamt of tasting so many weeks before.

She moaned at the touch of his lips to hers. He was thin, too thin, but his lips were full against hers, his tongue eagerly, skillfully working its way inside of her open mouth. Pushing open the door with one hand, he lifted her easily in his arms and carried her off to his bedroom. Once there, he laid her down gently onto the coverlet, looking deeply into her gold-flecked eyes. "So beautiful," he murmured.

She flushed at the compliment, suddenly a bit shy. He knelt down next to her and kissed her again, soundly. Where before his tongue was slippery, sly, this time his kiss was like an onslaught. She reached out a hand, touching the man's face. She had touched him hundreds of times before, but as a nursemaid, not a lover. She took no more notice of his temperature, but of how soft his skin was beneath her fingertips, how soft his hair actually was. Eagerly she ran her fingers through it, coming to rest at the base of his neck. He groaned at her touch and ran his hands from her face down her sides, coming to rest on the curve of her hips. "Please, Hermione, let me ..." he pleaded. Merlin, I want her, he admitted finally to himself.

"Oh yes, Severus, please," she whispered into his ear, sliding her hands from the back of his neck to the front of his shirt, where she started undoing his buttons. When her palms grazed his sensitive nipples, he almost fell over. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him like that, with desire, with – love? Tentatively, he returned the favor, gently removing Hermione's blouse before lowering his head to nuzzle at her shapely bosom. Her self-control gone, she mewled into his ear as she suckled his earlobe.

Lightly scraping his fingernails up and down her back, he removed her brassiere easily, replacing the fabric over one nipple with his mouth, sucking lightly, then gently scraping his teeth over the erect nub. His rough palm rubbed circles over the other nipple, leaving them both taut and wanting more. She fell back onto her elbows, panting, a feral look in her eye. Growling, he quickly removed her jeans and his own black trousers, finally standing in front of her in nothing but his black silk shorts.

Sitting up, Hermione reached out a hand toward them. "Please, allow me," she said. Gulping, Severus looked down and watched Hermione gently slide them to the floor, engulfing his erect penis with her warm, wet mouth.

His head sagged backward in utter delight. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had ever done this of their own accord. Her tongue encircled his weeping head, licking the salty fluid from the tip as she swallowed greedily, moaning her appreciation. Her hands wrapped behind him, squeezing and kneading his buttocks as she thrust him in and out of her mouth. "Not ... yet ..." he said, pulling back with a grunt of longing. Kneeling down in front of her, he gently parted her legs and proceeded to return the favor fully. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she threaded her fingers through his silky black hair, pulling him in closer to her. His arms wrapped underneath her legs, snaking up to massage her nipples. When he sensed that she was close, he gave them both a naughty pinch, causing her to cry out, but when he redoubled his efforts with his tongue, she moaned throatily and came for him.

While he would have liked to have done nothing but drink her juices, his penis twitched, reminding him that there were other needs to be satisfied as well. Climbing on top of the bed, he nudged her over into a more comfortable position. Kneeling between her legs, he leaned down, kissing her thoroughly. "Please, Severus," she whispered, and it was all she needed to say. Poising himself at her entry, he slid in in one swift motion. She feels like home, he thought strangely to himself. He felt her raise her legs, and soon they had found a rhythm all their own. Too soon, he came, and felt her sigh with happiness.

Curling up behind her, he listened to her heartbeat as she drifted off. "Thank you for my life, Hermione," he whispered as he, too, fell asleep. The future was, indeed, in his hands. He had made his choice.