Chapter 12

Transcendent Quality of Remembrance

Chapter 12

The people ask me how

How I've lived til now

I tell them I don't know

And I Love You So

6 July, 1998

Severus held her to him with near violence, the combination of memories of their wedding night and her nearness overcoming him.  Would she want to talk about things...talk about the intimacy they'd shared the night before?  About the memories he possessed that she did not?  About the secret she was harbouring from him behind guarded brown eyes?  Well, she was out of luck.  He wasn't going to talk about it...about any of it...but if she wanted him ... well, that was another matter entirely.

She smelled of her shampoo and tasted of bitter coffee, overlain by the tart sweetness of the apple she'd eaten.  Kissing Hermione was like striking a flint to dry kindling...her ready response to him was intoxicating, and the chemistry they created together was compelling.  She pressed herself against him, twining her hands in his hair, all flash-fire passion and simmering need.  She seemed voracious, as if it had been weeks since they had touched, rather than hours, and in short order, her fingers were scrabbling at his shirt buttons, as if she meant to have him naked on the stream bank in broad daylight.

He broke their kiss, hands against her shoulders and holding her slightly away from him.  She was a vision to change a man's mind, all kiss-swollen lips and slumberous brown eyes, her crazy, curling hair tumbling down her back like that of the first woman to make her man forget practicalities in favour of momentary insanity.

'What, precisely, do you have in mind?' he asked her gruffly, the back of his mind scrambling to determine the risk of discovery if he were to enjoy his bride beside this forest stream.

She evaded him by the simple expedient of dropping her shoulders from his grasp, ducking beneath his guard and slithering up his torso with a pout.  'Not a thing in the world,' she murmured before kissing his throat and releasing his top button to nuzzle his collarbone, tasting the triangle of chest thus revealed.

The touch of her tongue tracing the notch of his clavicle thrummed through his cock like a call to action.  'You're a menace,' he informed her, pressing her back onto Molly's red tablecloth, following her down for an aggressive kiss, his hand sliding beneath her tee-shirt in a retaliatory fashion, palm passing over the curve of her ribcage to the lace-covered breast above it.

Her mouth opened to his, her moan of pleasure filling his throat with an answering desire, and he shifted atop her, seeking that haven in the cradle of her hips fashioned as the perfect receptacle for her man's accommodation.  Her denim-covered leg hooked about his woollen-trousered hip, and through the layers of their clothing, he was positive he could feel the welcoming heat of her sex

He had the ever-vigilant state of his nerves to thank for his awareness of their loss of privacy.  More than hearing an intruder...and why would he wish to hear anything other than the soft, whimpering murmurs of Hermione's response to his kisses and caresses?...he was aware of a disturbance in the space to their right, over the streambed.  Turning his head slowly to the side, feeling Hermione's lips slide moistly across his cheek, he sent his deadliest glare at the figure hovering inches over the water surface on a racing broomstick.  Ginevra Weasley physically recoiled from the impact of his annoyance, and even Hermione turned to look when the ginger-haired girl splashed into the shallow water.

'Sorry, Hermione!' she called impishly, ignoring her Potions teacher as she brandished the struggling Snitch in dripping fingers.  Then she was zooming skyward again, the light trill of her girlish giggle trailing behind her.

Severus swore beneath his breath and rose stiffly to his feet, the state of his arousal somewhat impeding his freedom of movement.  Hermione blinked at him owlishly from her sprawled position, and he forced his eyes away from her, turning his back to adjust himself and his clothing so he wouldn't be tempted to rejoin her

'Severus?' she said, sounding plaintive.  'Where are you going?'

He turned his narrowed gaze to her face.  'To the house...to our room, should you care to join me.'  He extended a hand and was heartened by the way she shifted at once to her knees to clasp his fingers.  He pulled her to her feet, keeping her at arm's length when she would have swayed into his embrace.  'Come...pack up.'

She sighed but thrust the thermos flask and leavings of their lunch into her knapsack and stood, freeing him to shake the crumbs from the cloth and fold it neatly.  Hermione stowed it in her bag and offered her hand, her eyes sliding shyly from his as their fingers laced together.  With a satisfied smirk, Severus led her back the way they had come.

---

Hermione paced at his side, hurrying a bit to match his long strides, supremely conscious of her slightly sweaty palm clasped in his dry one.  Ginny had seen them grappling on the ground, kissing and groping through their clothes like sixth-years in the Astronomy Tower.  Even one week previously, that knowledge would have decimated Hermione with embarrassment, but today, it was a matter of indifference.  Perhaps Ginny would share what she had seen with the others, and they'd stop whispering about how the Snapes never touched one another.

It didn't matter what they thought of her and her husband.  The only thing that mattered was what he thought of her, and though he had verbalised nothing, his actions at least demonstrated that he had sufficient interest in her to want to take advantage of their physical intimacy.  There was nothing wrong with that...she desperately wanted to take advantage of it as well, for as exciting as her dreams of him had been, they were nothing in the face of the real thing.  The very memory of him the night before, the way he had kissed her, touched her, filled her ...

She stumbled stupidly over a tree root, and he steadied her with a frown.  'Are you all right?' he asked.

'Sorry,' she muttered, staring at his chest, afraid to meet his too-discerning gaze.  'Wasn't paying attention.'

He said nothing further but maintained the arm about her shoulders with which he had steadied her, and Hermione slipped an answering arm about his slim waist, her heart singing at the increased bodily contact.  Would he march into the clearing before the house with a husbandly arm about her, allowing the others to see them in a semi-embrace?  Perhaps it was childish, but the idea of others seeing them in such a couple-ish pose pleased her enormously.  She couldn't imagine a more splendid situation than to be seen...known!...as Severus Snape's witch in practice as well as fact.

But she was destined for disappointment in that area.  When they heard voices, he released her, and she could only drop her arm; she could scarcely cling to him if he didn't wish for it

He urged her forward with a brief touch to the small of her back, and as the others came into view, he said quietly, 'Don't dally for conversation.'

On another day, she might have bridled at this peremptory command, but she was as anxious to be alone as he was.  Who would want to pass the time of day chatting nothings with school chums when there was sex to be had behind closed doors?

The Quidditch players had completed their game...no doubt when Ginny had caught the Snitch and interrupted Hermione's ravishment on the stream bank!  They sprawled about around Hermione's favourite boulder, looking windblown and jovial, chatting loudly, with much laughter.  Arthur and Molly had dragged chairs outside and were sitting with Bill and Fleur, who had apparently woken from their 'nap'.  As Hermione skirted them to reach the steps up to the door, Arthur halted Severus with a word.

'All right, Severus?' he asked kindly.

Severus paused, darting a glance at Hermione which she read clearly as Go on!

'Hermione is a bit unwell,' he lied smoothly.

Hermione didn't know whether to be indignant or amused, but either way, she did not slow her steps.

'None of us are getting enough sleep,' Molly said staunchly, giving them all good reasons to slip away for 'kips' as necessary.

'I'll see her settled in,' Severus said.

Hermione heard Arthur's next question with a quickening of interest, and her pace slowed so that she might hear her husband's response.

'Ah, and don't you wonder how you ever got on without her?' Arthur asked in an indulgent tone.

There was a beat of silence, and then Severus spoke quietly...hesitantly...sending Hermione's pulse into a tripping rhythm.

'I ... I honestly don't know.'

There were the sounds of fond chuckles from Arthur and Molly, but it was Bill Weasley's voice that rose above the others.

'I'm right there with you, mate.'

Then Hermione heard Severus' tread upon the outdoor step and she hurried past Padma, Parvati, and Luna, who sat together on the sitting room sofa with an old magazine.

'All right, Hermione?' Parvati inquired chattily, but Hermione went past them without a glance.

'I'm fine,' she replied, starting up the staircase.

She charted Severus' progress past the young witches by their sudden, complete silence, but she was on the first floor landing, with Severus mere steps away, when she heard Parvati exclaim, 'Did you see the looks on their faces?'

'Just like any couple in love,' Luna said matter-of-factly.

But it was Padma's sighing comment that followed Hermione up the stairs with the ring of truth.

'Jammy cow, our Hermione.'

---

Severus stood with Hermione behind the closed door of their attic room, their bodies striped with wide bands of light as the sun angled in and filtered through the filmy curtains.  Was there a more wonderful luxury than undressing one's lover in the light of day, revealing every glory, every flaw, to the eye of the beholder?

She was like a fluttering faerie, kissing every scar, every blemish, and running her hands down his chest and his belly to his erection with reverence and wide-eyed appreciation.  To his surprise...and gratification...she fondled his heavy scrotum and stroked down his shaft simultaneously, the foreskin sliding away, revealing the purplish head of his hungry cock.  She knelt before him, mouth gloriously warm and wet about the knob, her tongue making exploratory gestures that sent shocks of pure lust singing through him.  He grasped her elbows and dragged her to her feet to kiss her, thrilling to the salty taste of his body's lubricant upon her lips.

He realised she wanted to take her time with him, but his urgency was like an untameable force.  His fingers traced down her tummy and slipped between her legs.  She moaned audibly, attempting to twist her hips away, as if to slow him down, but he needed her now.  There was a houseful of people below who knew she was his...knew very well what they were doing...and he was damned if he would disappoint their expectations.

He backed her to their bed, the first they had shared since their wedding night, and she was compliant, as she had always been, scrambling to the head of the bed as if she remembered that his long legs required the full length of the mattress for him to push into her ready body, to fuck her, as she wanted him to do.  He followed her, grasping her hips and moving her where he wanted her to be, pausing to fondle and suckle her full, round breasts before he pressed on, moving forward to enter her, pushing her arms over her head, holding them there, remembering how she had liked it on their honeymoon when he had done so.

And her legs rose to hook heels about his thighs as she arched to meet his next thrust.

---

10 January, 1998

She was responsive to his kisses, but two orgasms in a short time period had sated her for the time being; she was not going to succumb to sexual seduction again, not with this bee in her bonnet.

She pulled away from him, a slight frown between her brows, and prevented his descent upon her by pushing to a sitting position.

'It's after midnight,' she pointed out reasonably with a gesture downstairs, where the mantelpiece clock had struck the hour.  'I know you want to sleep, but I'm afraid to fall asleep before I take the antidote.'  She gave him an apologetic smile and stroked sweat-soaked strands of hair from his temple.

Severus swung into a seated position, his feet upon the floor, his back to the girl.  Why in blazes could nothing in his life ever be simple and straightforward?  And why did his so-called brilliant notions never quite pan out the way he'd envisioned them to?

'Severus?' she said, her tone questioning and a bit concerned.

'I gave you the book, Hermione.  I let you read the formula and the instructions.  Did you read anything about an antidote?'  He spoke these words tersely, his eyes fixed on the wall, his uncommunicative back to his bride.

He felt a determined tug upon the bedclothes, and he lifted himself accommodatingly to allow her access.  In seconds she was standing before him, wrapped in a bed sheet like a goddess of old, looking like an invitation to unbridled debauchery.  Except for her eyes, which were narrowed and calculating...ah, Hermione the student was here now, in place of his delightful bed-mate.

It had been nice whilst it lasted.

'I wasn't thinking about undoing it when I read the recipe,' she informed him tightly.  'I was educating myself about the ingredients...some of which I've never heard of, by the way...and the effects.'  She drew a deep breath, her voice rising on each of the next words.  'How could you not tell me it was irreversible?'

Irritation and the sheer injustice of the accusation pulled him to his full height, and though he was bare of his robes, he looked down his nose at her and did his best to project superiority and icy disdain.  'You didn't request a reversible solution, Madam.  You simply wished to be rid of the memory of fucking your ugly old professor, never mind that he was giving up his freedom to become your legally bound husband.'

He sneered at her mightily, wishing to wound, to lacerate her sensibilities as she had shredded his, just when he had thought they had got through the most difficult bit with a rather impressive show of panache on his part.  He was ready to do battle, to put her in her place, to rip up at her so viciously that she would never dare question him again...until she crumpled at his feet and began to sob as if her heart would break.

Buggering fucking hell.

He looked down upon her pitiful figure, a crying female, adorned with a worse-for-wear wedding wreathe and a plain white bed sheet, and his heart lurched dangerously in his chest.  Without thought, he hunkered beside her.

'Don't cry, little tempest,' he murmured, and when she lunged at him, wrapping her arms about his neck and burying a wet face in his shoulder, he sat down hard on the wooden floor, his bollocks saved from trauma only by his shirt, which had somehow ended up on this side of the bed.

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A/N:  Today's song has been a favorite all my life. I believe Perry Como recorded it first, but my favorite version is by Don McLean. Here he is, singing And I Love You So: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZO9Y_SjmTE