May I Feel

may I feel said he

(you are Mine said she)

- E. E. Cummings, may i feel said he

***

Hermione allowed Severus to lead her up the stairs from the basement, her mind filled with nothing but the intoxicating nearness of the man she had wanted for so very long. His hand was warm as it encased her own, and as they passed the door of his study, she closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the knowledge that she was, perhaps, mere minutes away from running her hands down his bare chest as she had done so many times in her imagination.

He led her to the second level, the floor that was home to the bedrooms, and Hermione stopped.

"Severus, what about Cordelia?" she whispered. She had almost forgotten.

"She's abroad," he said, turning to face her.

"I thought she only travels at the weekends?"

"She's decided to spend the week in France," he said, looking vaguely amused. "You think I would be so indiscreet as to bring you to my bed while my wife has coffee with her friends downstairs?"

She smiled nervously, hardly daring to believe he was leading her to his bed. "I suppose not."

He pushed open the door, standing aside and allowing her to precede him into the room. Watching as she surveyed her new surroundings, he gently closed the door and leaned his back against it. He scrutinised her face as her gaze moved over the grand four-poster bed and the white gauze curtains that were elegantly tied at each corner. She looked over the dressing table, and he realised what she was looking for: some trace of a feminine presence.

"This bedroom is mine and mine alone, Hermione: Cordelia has separate sleeping and dressing quarters," he explained.

She turned to face him. "She doesn't share your bed?"

"You find that surprising? You think I would share my bed with another man's lover?"

"But I thought that marriages had to be consummated in order to be fully legal since the implementation of the Marriage Act?"

"Yes, they do," he said, becoming impatient. "The marriage was consummated. I don't think it was a particularly pleasurable experience for either of us, and we did not repeat the exercise. We agreed that we had entered a marriage of convenience and that we would be more comfortable with separate rooms."

"But ... didn't you ..."

He rolled his eyes. "Hermione, would you like the intimate details? I assure you, Cordelia does not share my bed."

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, annoyed she'd given in to her insatiable need to question everything. Then she closed the space between them and laid her hands on his clothed chest.

"I'm sorry, Severus. You know I have great difficulty keeping my mouth shut."

He grunted. "Perhaps I should draw up a contract to curb your maddening tongue when we are outside the laboratory."

She smiled. "Perhaps you should," she whispered, her gaze falling to the long line of buttons on his coat.

The moment she smiled at him, he could feel his irritation dissappear, and he watched as her hands travelled to the neck of his coat. "If you are uncomfortable in this house, we need not stay," he said as she opened the first few buttons at his throat.

She glanced up at him, her fingers still working on his buttons. "I would very much like to stay," she said. "I can't think of a single place I'd rather be, including libraries, bookshops and laboratories, and that is really saying something, because everyone knows..."

"Hermione," he whispered, placing his thumb on her lips, "you're babbling again."

"I always talk when I'm nervous," she replied, reaching the buttons at his waist.

"Well, let us endeavour to shut you up," he drawled, delicately lifting her chin and lowering his mouth to hers.

She moaned into his mouth, her hands still occupied with his innumerable buttons. He kissed her gently, enjoying the warmth of her lips and revelling in the increasing rate of her heartbeat. He could feel it against his chest.

She pulled away from him when she'd opened the last of his buttons and pushed the coat from his shoulders. It puddled in a heap at his feet, discarded for the second time that day, and she moved her attention to his white, linen shirt. "You've more buttons than Madam Malkin's shop," she said.

He allowed her to continue and raised his hand to her face, cupping her cheek and gently stroking her skin, enjoying the sight of her determined brow as she pulled the tail of his shirt from his trousers. He had been the one to take the initiative that morning, and for now, he was happy for her to lead.

Surprised that he had not yet stopped her, she pushed open his shirt and pulled it down his arms. His hand left her face, and he quickly opened the last two buttons on his cuffs, allowing the shirt to join his coat on the carpet.

She pressed the palms of her hands against the ashen white of his chest. His skin was so devoid of the effects of the sun as to be almost luminous in its pallor, broken only by a smattering of black hair between his pectoral muscles and a line of hair below his navel that disappeared beyond the band of his trousers. Running her hands up his chest and across his shoulders, she hungrily drank in the details of his bare torso. He was not particularly muscled, but neither was he untoned. His shoulders were strong and wide, and he was incredibly lean.

Severus permitted her to explore his bare chest with her hands and eyes, watching with great fascination as she traced imaginary lines over the surface of his skin with her fingertips. Suddenly desirous to feel her skin against his own, he grasped the hem of her cotton t-shirt and pulled it up to the level of her breasts, where she obediently raised her arms and allowed him to pull it over her head and toss it aside.

He gripped her by the elbows and pulled her flush against him, her lace-clad breasts pressed to his naked skin. Raising one hand to the back of her neck, he kissed her again, backing her towards the bed, but stopping before they reached the edge.

He stepped away from her, and she moaned her objection. "Patience," he said. "We've rushed this once already, and it's not a mistake I intend to repeat." His gaze raked over her half-naked form, the swell of her breasts clothed in a black, lace bra, the curve of her smooth hips leading into the waist of her jeans. He reached out and traced the line of her collarbone with a single finger and walked around until he was standing directly behind her, where he allowed his finger to follow the curve of her shoulder blade and come to rest at the small of her back, remembering once more the sight of her in that backless gown. Then he gripped her hips with both his hands and pulled her against him.

Hermione leaned into him and allowed her head to fall back onto his shoulder, her hands reaching around to grasp his thighs and pull him tighter still against her body.

With his right hand, he pushed her curls to one side and lowered his lips to her neck, smiling at her sudden intake of breath and the way she began to knead the material of his trousers with her fists.

"You are very beautiful," he whispered into her ear.

She turned her head to look at him, her heart leaping at his words. "Despite my ridiculous mane?"

He kissed her shoulder and brought his hands up to her hair, running his fingers through her curls, still damp from her shower. "The adjectives that apply to your hair depend very much on the setting," he said, his breath against her ear making her shiver. "When you are in the laboratory, your hair is ridiculous; when you are in the bedroom, it is magnificent."

"Severus," she whispered with a sigh, allowing her head to fall back on his shoulder once more.

He dropped his hands to her back again, where he undid the clasp of her bra and slid the straps down her arms. For a moment she brought her arms up to cover her breasts in a fit of shyness, but he returned his lips to her neck, and, running his fingers along her bare arms, he gently grasped her wrists and lowered them to her sides.

She closed her eyes as he brought his hands to her waist and moved them slowly up over her ribs until they cupped her exposed breasts, his thumbs finding their way to her nipples and circling them. He stopped nuzzling her neck, and she opened her eyes to find he was staring straight ahead over her shoulder. She followed his gaze and discovered that they were reflected in the full-length mirror across the room.

Bringing one hand up behind her to tangle in his black hair, she watched their reflected selves as he caressed her breasts, his long, slender fingers moving in the same sensual way they always did in the steam that rose from his cauldron, eliciting the most divine of sensations in the lower regions of her stomach. She would have expected to feel embarrassed, exposed, standing as she was reflected in a mirror and naked to the waist. But it was the most erotic thing she had ever seen in her entire life, and, boldened by longing, she locked gazes with him in the mirror.

He stepped away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, beckoning to her with his finger.

"Come," he said hoarsely.

She crossed the few short steps to stand before him, kicking off her sandals as she went, feeling both aroused and self-conscious as his black eyes meandered over her body. He grasped her hips with his hands and leaned forward to kiss her stomach. She closed her eyes and threaded her fingers through his hair while he trailed his mouth across her belly, his teeth grazing against her skin when he reached her hipbone. He undressed her slowly, carefully, as if unwrapping a fragile gift.

"Lie down," he said when her jeans and her knickers lay on the floor.

She did as he said and watched while he removed the rest of his clothing. Hermione could have stared at him all day. The whiteness of his skin was in marked contrast to the ebony of his hair and his eyes, and he was even more striking without his clothes than he was when dressed in his dramatic, stark black. She let her hand run down his chest once more, and when she reached the dark trail of hair below his navel, there were no longer any trousers to interrupt her path.

He made love to her slowly, so much more slowly than he had earlier that day, and when they had both cried out their release, she cradled his head to her shoulder. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow, and his breathing slowly returned to normal as she stroked his hair absent-mindedly, her heartbeat resuming its steady rhythm.

Severus lowered himself to the bed next to her. He pulled the blanket lying folded at the end of the bed up to their waists, still enjoying the sight of her breasts, rising and falling as she recovered her breath. He propped himself up on one elbow, watching her face closely, wary of her response after that morning's fiasco. Her eyes were closed, but as she opened them, she met his gaze and gave him a shy smile.

"So that's what you call 'doing it properly'?" she asked.

"Indeed," he said, relieved there did not seem to be any tears of guilt or anguish forthcoming. "Is it to your liking?"

She laughed. "Yes. I think I'm quite a fan of doing it properly."

She inched closer to him and leaned her head against his chest. He began to stroke her arm and laid his head on the pillow.

"Severus?" she whispered, looking at him.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you regret it?"

He looked at her steadily, considering his answer. "No," he said simply. "Do you?"

She shook her head and gave him another shy smile. "No. How could I regret it?"

She turned away from him and curled her back against his chest, nestling her head beneath his chin. To her surprise, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tighter still against him. She had almost expected him to dismiss her from his bed, or to be uncomfortable, at least. But his desire to prolong their physical contact was unexpected and enormously welcome.

One of his hands lay between her breasts, and she laced her fingers through his, pleased when he did not pull away.

"When did this start, Severus?"

He glanced at the clock. "Approximately fifty minutes ago," he drawled.

She laughed and squeezed his hand. "You know what I mean."

He pressed his lips to her shoulder. "I am unsure, but I know that your backless gown made quite an impression on me."

"Really?" she asked, turning to look at him. "When you saw it on my wedding day?"

"Believe me, I still saw you as an irritating ex-student at that time, but it disturbed me to discover that you had become an attractive young woman."

She was quiet for a moment, absorbing this piece of information. "I think it began for me when I started working for you...maybe even before that, I'm not sure. But I didn't realise it until the morning you asked me to brew the Exostraserum."

Severus remained silent, thinking about what she had just said, his gaze resting on the pale, bare skin of her shoulder, marvelling that she was here, in his bed. He had not told her a lie: he had never had Cordelia, or any other woman for that matter, in this bed. Normally one to guard his privacy, he took a moment to consider why he felt no impulse to evict her from his room.

When he had taken lovers in the past, he had always been gripped by an urgent need to flee their presence once the physical act was complete. But her presence was soothing, her warm body comforting. He wondered if it was a result of the many months they had spent working together.

She sighed. "Are we adulterers, Severus?" she asked, her tone contemplative rather than upset.

"Technically, I suppose we are," he said, disentangling his hand from her own and resuming his stroking of her arm. "But it is, perhaps, less of a crime than it might normally be: you are separated from your husband, and I have neither a physical nor an emotional relationship with my wife. These are, I believe, extenuating circumstances."

He turned and lay on his back. Hermione rolled over to face him.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked. "What do we do?"

He glanced at her. "We've a lot to discuss. Would you prefer to dress and have this conversation somewhere else?"

She snaked her hand around his waist and smiled. "I'm perfectly comfortable where I am, thank you very much."

"I suggest, being in such a mutually delicate situation," he began, "that we must agree to complete secrecy."

"We must tell nobody?" she asked.

He nodded. "Don't you agree? From what I've seen and heard over the years, the more people there are aware of an affair, the more likely it is that it will eventually be exposed."

Hermione wondered how she was going to hide such a monumental development in her life from her friends. "What about the people who've already expressed an interest in our relationship, Severus? How do we hide it from them?"

"We'll need to be vigilant," he said. "Lance will be a problem: that man is more omniscient than anyone I've ever met."

She gave a brief laugh. "He was the one who finally talked me into accepting the job. He certainly spotted this before I ever did."

"I suspect he would congratulate rather than remonstrate if he knew. Given that all three of us live in such close proximity, it may be almost impossible to keep it from him, but I'm certain he'll be discreet. Some of his comments have been positively entertaining."

"What has he said?" she asked, smiling.

"Oh, something along the lines of 'A good shag...that's what the pair of you need'."

Hermione snorted. "I'm not sure I'll be able to lie if he asks me."

"We needn't worry about Lance. But that is where it must end; Cordelia could make life very difficult for us if she knew."

"Wouldn't that be hypocritical of her?" Hermione said with a frown. "She's been having an affair all her married life!"

"Yes, it would be hypocritical, but the fact that it's you might exacerbate the problem."

"The fact that it's me?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed. "Why?"

"You're her daughter-in-law; her son's wife; a member of the family. It would be a terrific scandal if it was discovered. Besides which," he added, "you're a full generation younger than she, and despite the fact that we have nothing but a marriage of convenience, she has a tendency to jealousy."

"You really think she would be angrier because it's me, in particular?"

"I know she would," he said, frowning. "We've already argued over the fact that I disappeared with you on Saturday night, and she's made more than one barbed comment about the amount of time we spend together."

"That's worrying." Hermione examined one of her curls for a moment, lost in thought. "I'll do everything I can to be discreet, Severus. But Padma already knows something's going on; she knows about Saturday night."

He looked at her, scowling. "Knows what about Saturday night?"

"About the roof garden. I'm sorry," she said. "I ... I just needed someone to talk to. She told me I'd be absolutely insane to get involved with you, so I came to work this morning determined nothing would ever happen." She grinned. "So much for good intentions."

A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth: he was amused she'd come to work that morning with such similar resolutions to his own. "If you can agree to do your utmost to continue in secrecy, that will suffice," he said.

"I agree, of course," she said. "I still don't see how this is going to work out. What about the business? And the fact that Cordelia is here during the week?"

"The business cannot be allowed to suffer. I think we must promise that our professional and private lives be kept separate. It may prove difficult at times, but it is essential. Just ensure your hair is secured tightly from now on," he said with a mock frown.

Hermione grinned. "I will. So, what you're saying is that we can only see one another outside of work ... at the weekends?"

"Precisely," he said. "Do you have another suggestion?"

She shook her head. "I suppose not." Her stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. "I need food."

"I'm going to use the shower," he said, throwing back the cover. "You may do the same if you wish, and then I'm sure Moe will provide us with a meal."

"Can I eat with you?" she asked, suddenly shy.

"I don't see why not; we've eaten together before when there have been potions contracts to discuss. Besides, Cordelia's absence this week makes things easier."

"We can relax the rules this week?" she asked, admiring his naked form as he rose from the bed.

"I suppose we may, but I suggest we start as we mean to go on in the laboratory."

Without further comment, he strode naked across the room, and Hermione watched him disappear into the ensuite bathroom, marvelling at the way he was as graceful undressed as he was clothed. For a moment, she considered following him into the shower, but she didn't feel comfortable enough. Not yet.

As the sound of running water came from the bathroom, she lay back on the pillow, admiring the white gauze curtains that hung from the posters of the bed, hardly daring to believe that she was here, in Severus Snape's bedroom. She closed her eyes and inhaled: the bed smelled of him.

With a contented sigh, she rose from the bed and extracted her wand from the pocket of her crumpled jeans. Her gaze followed the trail of discarded clothes all the way to the door of the bedroom, reminding her of the guilt she'd felt that morning in the laboratory.

Pointing her wand at her abdomen, she whispered a contraceptive spell and took a black dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door. When Severus emerged from the bathroom, a white towel around his waist, he smiled.

"A little big, perhaps," he said.

He watched as she closed the bathroom door behind her, almost disappointed that he had not invited her into the shower with him. There would be time, maybe, for such pleasures in the days and weeks to come.

He could only hope that she would accept things the way they were. For how long would she remain content to be nothing more than his mistress? For how long would either of them be willing to live with lies and deceit? There was little point in dwelling on what was to come: they would have to take one day at a time and deal with events as they unfolded.

When they'd dressed, they walked to the door of the bedroom. His hand on the doorknob, Severus looked down at her, searching for something to say, something that would somehow seal the agreement they had made.

As if she had read his mind, she said, "Don't worry, Severus. I know I have a big mouth, but I'll keep my end of the bargain. If I feel, for some reason, that I must tell someone, I'll ask your permission first."

He nodded, satisfied.

Hermione waited for him to open the door, sensing the awkwardness that had been there since they'd left his bed. She supposed it was a normal part of any budding relationship, and she wondered how long it would take for the discomfort to ease. She badly wanted him to kiss her again before they left the room, but his hand twisted the knob of the door, and he stood aside.

She couldn't leave the bedroom without something...some physical display of intimacy, so she stepped forward and leaned her forehead against his chest, her hands on his waist. After a small hesitation, he gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to the top of her head. They stayed like that for many moments, and she smiled. Somehow, it was more encouraging than any kiss.

***

In the days that followed, Severus was amazed at how easily they adopted their contrasting roles. By day they were workmates; by evening they were lovers.

After a few hours of unusual politeness on Wednesday morning, they resumed their normal relationship in the laboratory. They conversed easily, argued occasionally, and spent most of their day absorbed in their mutual tasks. But once five o'clock came, and they had secured the laboratory for the night, they could barely keep their hands off one another, and the evenings had been spent in his bedroom. They emerged only when their need for food could no longer be ignored, and Moe seemed positively thrilled by the fact that they had eaten together every evening. After dinner, Hermione had left each night to return to her own house, and he began to wonder how he would fill his evenings once his wife returned from France.

On Saturday afternoon, having spent almost four hours sifting through paperwork in his study, he descended to the laboratory. He could smell Hermione's perfume before he had even opened the door. She was dressed in her work robes, her hair pulled tightly back from her face with a band. He smirked, wondering what she had done with her inefficient silver hair clip.

"Hello," she said cheerily.

"Good afternoon," he said, crossing the room and putting his hands on her shoulders.

She looked surprised. "What happened to the 'no physical contact in the laboratory' rule?"

"Ah," he said with a smirk. "Our working hours are Monday to Friday from eight o'clock to five in the evening. The rules don't apply to weekends."

Hermione chuckled. "In that case, let me finish this batch of SkeleGro and get cleared up."

He released her and crossed the room, where he added his completed paperwork to the stack sitting on his workbench. He sat and watched as she bottled the potion, Vanished the remnants from her cauldron and extracted a sheet of parchment and a quill from the drawer beneath her bench. He could tell she was writing a letter, and, curious, he moved to stand behind her once more.

Hermione groaned as Severus wrapped his arm around her waist and began to nuzzle at her neck.

"To whom are you writing?" he whispered in her ear.

"You don't want to know," she said, signing her name at the bottom of the parchment and summoning a small bottle from the storeroom.

Severus frowned as she caught the bottle and began to wrap it in brown paper. "Is that Murtlap essence?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "Or you could call it penance, perhaps."

He realised with a start that she was writing to Theo. "You think he deserves it?"

"No, I don't think he deserves anything. But it will make me feel better," she explained.

"I thought the subject of guilt was off the agenda?"

"It is. I'm merely answering your questions," she said. She turned and smiled. "Let me send this, and then I'm all yours."

He watched as she disappeared from the laboratory, her ponytail bouncing behind her. She hadn't once mentioned her husband since Tuesday morning, and he wondered what she thought of the fact that somewhere in the world, Theodore Nott's wedding ring had begun to burn with great regularity.

Preoccupied as he had been with his own thoughts, he hadn't spared much thought for his stepson. Knowing Theo as he did, he knew that the boy would not put up with the constant pain of a burning ring for very long. Even with the aid of the Murtlap essence, he knew he was unlikely to remain patient with the inconvenience of having to submerge his hand every time his wife was unfaithful.

He was certain Theodore Nott would return, but he pushed the thought from his mind. Things were complicated enough as they were, and the return of Hermione's husband would make matters much, much worse. But he was determined to enjoy what remained of this week before his wife's return from France.

He would worry about Theo another day.

***

A/N: Dearest Readers. First of all, I wanted to thank every single one of you who left me a review or sent me a message earlier this week. I'm not sure if you know exactly what it has meant to me, so let me assure you that your encouragement, enthusiasm and kindness has turned a bad week into a wonderful week. Thank you so much.

LB x