Chapter Seven

I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. Huge thank you goes to my beta – Glorioux.

Chapter Seven

Black Eyes

It was dark and dreadfully hot. The air was suffocatingly stuffy. The sharp, uneven edges of the century-old stone wall were digging into Hermione's back, making her uncomfortable. For the last three minutes, our young witch had been trapped between the old wall and the unyielding body of our Potions master. Nervous silence hung in the air, making it even harder to breathe. The level of Hermione's ire was rising by the minute, filling her with the acidity of unfulfilled expectations. They were supposed to talk. She was expecting, and quite ready to hear an apology.

Let's see, my dear friends, how our princess had gotten herself into that narrow spot, between the unsurprisingly reticent wall and the equally reticent Potions master, shall we?

The instant the door of the Leaky Cauldron had been shut closed after them, Hermione had been turned, twisted and pushed rather unceremoniously against the hard surface. Severus' breath had raged somewhere near her left ear while his nose had been seemingly poking into her hair. It had been pretty difficult for Hermione to be certain about their exact position, due to the fact that the wizard's body had been pressed tightly and heavily against hers. His weight had effectively and fully immobilized the witch, and she couldn't move at all. Heck, she could hardly breathe, as her face had been tucked into Severus' scratchy robes.

You and I know, of course, that any other day, Hermione Granger would love to be pressed against the wall by Severus Snape, especially in the dark corner. Any day, any time. And, in actual fact, she had enjoyed it only the previous Friday, and she had fantasized about a moment like this more than once. Dark and brooding Severus Snape and she in her crimson chiffon dress, his hot breath on her skin, his fingers between her thighs... Mmm... Oh, Merlin!

Yet, frankly, this particular moment was not the right moment at all. After everything that had transpired between them over the past week, it was apparent that today was not the right day and now was most certainly not the right time. What they needed to do was talk, calmly and politely, as a civilized witch and a wizard.

To be true to the facts, for the first two minutes our sensible witch kept her hopes high, thinking that the wizard needed a minute or two to gather his composure and, perhaps, to find the words, and she thus had waited patiently. However, the period of silence dragged on, and the only sound Hermione could detect was Severus' ragged breathing. Our young Gryffindor's patience ran thin and then disappeared entirely. There was perhaps one more minute of contemplation until Hermione decided to act.

What is wrong with this wizard? She thought with vexation.

"Severus," rasped Hermione, her voice muted by his robes, as she pushed her fists not too gently at the wizard's chest.

After that nudge, our Potions master finally sprang to life. Only Merlin knew what he had been waiting for. Men! He shifted slightly, lifting his weight from the witch and giving her an opportunity to breathe and move again. Then, after a brief, awkward hesitation, Severus' black eyes focused on Hermione, and he uttered, "My behaviour was wrong and inappropriate, Hermione. I had assumed things I should not have and for that, I apologize. It is I who was delusional." Then again, silence fell between them.

However, this silence was remarkably different. Oh, how easily the sound of the wizard's deep baritone destroyed all Hermione's rebukes! How irrevocably the passionate fire in his eyes burned all her doubts and how quickly one word of an apology made nonexistent all her uncertainties, at the same time melting her heart and inflaming her body.

All she could see now was his anguish. His tormented gaze brought tears to her amber eyes. Of course, our gentle-hearted girl couldn't watch her former professor stumbling over each and every word. It was just too much to bear for her.

So, naturally, after a brisk pause and a deep sigh, Severus continued, "It is hard to let yourself believe in the possibility of happiness, Hermione. I... do not know how... "

"Shh," she said, and a warm, little hand was pressed to the thin lips of our Potions master. "Shh, I know. I understand and I am sorry. I was too quick to judge." And just like that, our young Gryffindor took everything on her frail shoulders, as usual.

How could she not, my dear friends? Just think about it. She knew all too well how much he had suffered, how hard his life had been and how bleak his future had looked at times. Then again, at that moment in time, Hermione Granger probably declared herself in love with Severus Snape. So how could she possibly let him suffer for even a millisecond longer? It was impossible.

The soft, warm, and so mightily enticing little hand, which was pressed so daringly to our Potions master's lips, served as a sure sign for him that he was forgiven, and our wizard was unable to keep himself in check any longer. The next instant, Severus pressed an open-mouth kiss against Hermione's palm, and his hands sneaked around her waist.

She, of course, reacted immediately by rising on her toes and pressing her lips to his without any hesitation. Ironically, but oh so predictably, it now felt so right, and so breathtakingly sensual, to be trapped between such a marvellous, century-old stone wall and a so wonderfully hard and muscled body. The dark corner was just perfect, and the moment was simply precious.

With their first encounter having been as impulsive and hectic as it had, this time both of them felt the need to take things slowly. And if Severus' roughly whispered, "Brace yourself, witch," followed by their disappearance into thin air was anything to judge by, this time they preferred privacy, as well.

Passionate Eyes

The moment our lovers landed in Severus' bedroom, their lips moulded into a searing kiss again. Severus' hands roamed freely over Hermione's curves, mapping, exploring, learning, memorizing. His lips were incessant and demanding, not leaving her any space for wavering.

When a break for air was deemed necessary, the black-haired wizard murmured, leisurely nibbling at the sensitive skin behind the witch's ear, "Would you like to have dinner first? We have French cuisine today."

While waiting for Hermione's response, he traced the outline of her earlobe with the tip of his tongue. That made her gasp, and she muttered hastily, "Scratch the dinner, Severus. Let it be French breakfast tomorrow."

He let out a hoarse chuckle and said, "As you wish, witch."

Abruptly, Hermione was once again turned and shifted until Severus had her back against him, with his rigid length pressing insistently into her bum. The wizard's hot mouth descended on her the next second, taking the witch by surprise. Hungrily, he kissed and nipped at the exposed skin of her neck, forcing her to shiver and whimper.

The air was soon filled with husky moans, weak whines, jagged breathing and muffled gasps. Severus kept the upper hand in their movements, overpowering Hermione with his controlling attitude. The growls and groans he was emitting, along with occasional light swearing, vibrated against Hermione's skin, arousing her even more, and nearly burning her alive.

Firmly holding her in place, Severus busied himself with the delicate task of unzipping the young witch's crimson dress. His dexterous fingers were opening the dress inch by little inch, giving his hungry, greedy mouth more territory to kiss, to nibble and to lick. More than once during that torturously slow exploration of her body, Hermione tried to turn and face Severus. Each time, however, with a low mutter of, "Stay still, witch," he prevented her from doing so. Not her moans, not her cries, not even her sweet, "Severus, please," had worked. He was unwavering. And so, our girl moaned and panted and gasped for air, leaving him to ravish her just the way he liked it.

By the time the wizard's hands had found their way to her sensitized breasts, fondling their softness and teasing her nipples, which were begging for attention, Hermione was at her wits' end. Weakened by the outrageously long foreplay, she reached for Severus and got a hold of his neck, arching her back ecstatically as she did so. At this point, when the witch's mewls and moans appeared dangerously desperate, our strict and controlling wizard decided that the time had come to manoeuvre them to bed.

After their first dual steps, the crimson dress, fully opened by now, slid to the floor, creating a strikingly bright crimson puddle and leaving Hermione in only her knickers. The sodden, flesh-coloured knickers caught the wizard's attention, and a deep and guttural moan lodged in his throat. The next instant, the little witch was swept into his arms and, in one swift movement, they both were on the bed, with Hermione laying on her stomach.

In mere seconds, the wizard was on his knees, his hands immediately moving to claim the witch's pert bum. With an appreciative humming sound, our Potions master was licking and kissing Hermione's perfectly rounded bottom, paying equal attention to each plump and ripe cheek and making the silk of her knickers even wetter with his tongue.

Apparently, Severus Snape was a bum lover. Who could have imagined that, huh?

Only when Severus was satisfied with the attention he had paid to her bottom was Hermione able to turn and face the wizard. Once again, their lips met in a smouldering kiss.

Gradually ending the kiss, Severus redirected his attention to her overheated body, now glistening with perspiration. His lips and tongue possessively traced all her contours and curves, nibbled gently at her taut, pink peaks, licked her belly button and then, with resolution, moved southward.

In one impatient movement, the wizard pushed Hermione's knees up, growled, "Open," and buried his enormous nose between her thighs. She had only managed to exhale, "Severus, oh God!" before her knickers were discarded and she was nearly consumed by her ravenously hungry lover.

When the young witch was again able to perceive reality around her, and a quick glance revealed that her lover was still fully clothed, it was Hermione's turn to torment him with the slow peeling of his many layers of clothing, kissing, biting, and sucking at every newly opened patch of skin.

And, oh Merlin, did she let him suffer this time. Hermione used everything she had in her arsenal – lips, teeth, tongue, fingers, nails – everything. She was fondling and probing, kissing and biting, caressing and coaxing, until Severus' skin was tingling and tickling all over, and he was groaning, moaning and twisting with abandon.

By the end of this torture, our black-haired wizard found himself totally nude, painfully aroused and in need of immediate friction. Hermione, with her hair curling wildly around her flushed face, pushed him on his back and hovered over him dangerously as a wicked smile played on her swollen lips.

She even tried to tease him further, descending tortuously slowly onto his eager and leaking in anticipation length. But the wizard, now enraged and desperate for release, impaled her on himself in one frenzied motion, forcing them both to gasp and groan from the overwhelming sensation.

Now, there was only one thing left for them – to ride this erotic madness to its glorious end. Sure enough, the over-controlling Potions master didn't give Hermione an opportunity to be on the top for too long. He shifted them soon enough and kept driving into the hot, wet, tight and oh-so-welcoming heat of his witch in ecstasy, marvelling in breathtakingly pleasant sensations and listening to her decadent mewls.

Eventually, with his powerful and masterfully angled thrusts, along with his deft fingers that squeezed and teased the right button at the right moments, Severus pushed Hermione over the edge, following her into an abyss with a low growl and a few last jerks.