The Morning After

Chapter Two:

The Morning After

He thrust himself deeply inside of her, reveling in the sensation and watching as her hazelnut eyes clouded over with lust and desperate need. His head dipped down to catch a nipple between his teeth, and she came moaning loudly and calling his name... "Oh, Ron!... Oh, God yes, RON! ..."

Ron grunted loudly as he came. Moments later, his hand drifted down to play with his sated cock; however, the warm, sticky mess it met there caused him to jerk awake, disoriented. He was in his bed at Grimmauld Place... and he was alone. He sighed deeply as his hands ruffled through his sleep-tousled hair. It wasn't until he heard a low chuckle that he realized Harry was in the neighboring bed, clearly amused by the whole situation.

"What's your problem? Get off on watching other people... get off?" Ron asked, a blush quickly rising in his cheeks as he tried to avoid Harry's gaze.

"You know, Ron," Harry managed to get out in between chuckles, "you're not supposed to call your own name when you cum."

"Pervert," Ron muttered as he slid out of bed and began gathering his things for his morning shower, which he supposed he needed now more than ever. God, that dream was intense. If only he could really show his 'Mione how much he loved her and how much he wanted to make love to her.

"Narcissist!" retorted Harry with a disturbingly satisfied look in his eye. How he could be so satisfied this early in the morning when they hadn't even had breakfast yet.... Eewww! He must've been with Ginny, taking advantage of her having the room to herself. Then it suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks as he recalled why Ginny had the room to herself. Images from last night flitted before his mind. Hermione. His 'Mione, lying on Snape's bed, pleasuring herself. The only part he didn't like about that equation was the "Snape's bed" bit. It really should be his bed she laid on when she touched herself like that...

"Ron, are you okay?" Harry asked at seeing the big sloppy grin suddenly covering his friend's face.

"Harry, if I tell you something you have to promise not to tell 'Mione! Well, not that you would anyway, 'cause after I tell you, you couldn't possibly, but see, well, the thing is... Oh, God! I have to tell someone."

"Ron! Just tell me. You're starting to freak me out. What happened?"

"I saw...Well, you see, last night I was walking down the hall and I saw..." Ron started as that sloppy grin began to creep over his face again, and his eyes became unfocused. "I saw my 'Mione..."

"You know, you've really got to stop calling her that," Harry quickly interjected.

"...I saw 'Mione touching herself." At that Harry stared at his friend in disbelief, jaw slack and eyes wide as saucers, and Ron continued to tell him everything he could remember, every little detail... Not that there were many details actually. It had been rather dark, but Ron had compensated for any voids with images conjured in his overactive imagination. He even told Harry about bumping into Snape in the hallway later that night. When all was said and done, Harry had only one thing to say...

"You mean Snape's back?"

"Yep. Wait, I tell you I saw our best friend, the love of my life, masturbating, and all you care about is Snape?"

"Ron, think about it! If Snape came back last night, wouldn't he have gone to his room?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"So where is it that you had your life altering experience last night?"

"...Oh. Oh! You don't think... that he... that Snape saw my 'Mione like that, do you?!" Both boys winced and shivered at the thought of their dour Potions Master seeing Hermione, or any girl for that matter, naked. Suddenly they weren't so hungry anymore.

~ & ~

'Mmmmnnn,' was the first thought that came to Hermione's mind as she slowly drifted into consciousness. With her eyes still closed, she rolled onto her back and took in her surroundings. The invigorating scent of a snowy winter morning had intermingled with that of bacon and coffee and an aroma that was unmistakably fresh bread. 'Mrs. Weasley must have been busy this morning,' she thought lazily as she rolled back onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow.

With an absent flick of her wand and a mumbled Incendio, a dull fire kindled in the hearth. The toasty cotton sheets felt heavenly sliding across her naked body, and Hermione spent the next half hour just rolling and enjoying that simple sensation. Still caught somewhere between her dreams and the real world, she allowed herself to reflect on the previous evening.

'Last night was... amazing. There's no other word for it. I've never come like that before in my life, or that often for that matter.' Moaning languidly, her hand slid down to absent-mindedly run through her damp curls. 'Of course, I suppose the fact that I've been frustratingly aroused all week and can't manage to get two seconds alone in this damn house might have had something to do with it.' Her soft moans turned into a frustrated sigh, and she propped her back up against the headboard, starting the painstaking process of waking up.

'Maybe I'm just spoiled,' she contemplated, taking a sip of water. 'I'm used to having my own room, being an only child and then Head Girl. I guess I've gotten used to pleasuring myself every night and not having to worry about making too much noise or waking up any roommates. Though Lord knows Ginny never really learned that lesson. Honestly, what the hell does she think she's doing sneaking Harry into our room every night, and right under Mrs. Weasley's nose?'

Evidently Ginny and Harry were under the mistaken impression that she could sleep through all of that whispering and giggling. Well, she couldn't! Not to mention that the sounds of their kissing and moaning did nothing to dispel her arousal. When she thought critically about it, however, she wasn't really all that upset with Ginny. She just needed to get out of that room for a little "private time." She really hadn't expected to get that turned on, but as her first orgasm of the evening approached, she began to notice how good the sheets smelled. It wasn't until after her orgasm subsided and cohesive thought returned that she realized why... They smelled like him, like Professor Snape!

'GOD, I never knew that a man could smell so good... I never knew that Professor Snape smelled so good! It was distinctly masculine, but herbal as well, and made me absolutely wet! I can't believe I actually started to catalog the potions ingredients I smelled as I rubbed myself!' She murmured, running her hands over her face as a blush crept up her neck to settle somewhere around her cheeks.

'How will I ever be able to sit through another Potions class without thinking about last night? I know I'll never be able to smell asphodel without wanting to slide two fingers inside myself. Aarrrg! It's teenage hormones, it must be. I mean, it was completely irrational. I don't even like him really! All right, decision made. Last night was the result of irrational rampaging teenage hormones, over which I've absolutely no control.' With that thinly veiled excuse firmly in mind, Hermione made her way down to breakfast.

~ & ~

It was still dark out when Severus willed his eyes open. A glance at the clock confirmed that it had only been two hours since he'd fallen asleep, but then again that was the formidable downside to sleeping in the study. When Molly Weasley begins her morning routine, so do you. As she waddled her way about the house, cleaning and preparing for breakfast, it tended to set the Black painting off on its interminable diatribe, much as it had this morning. It kept howling on about Mudbloods defiling the sanctity of the household or some other such nonsense.

Severus started to pull the ends of the pillow about his ears and tried, admittedly in vain, to fall back asleep when he felt a delicate scrap of fabric. It took all of about five minutes of staring uncomprehendingly at the pair of lacy white panties in his hands before finally remembering how they'd gotten into his possession in the first place. Suddenly his senses were overcome with images of that passionate, writhing creature, the memory of her scent, and the sound of her fevered moans. If only he'd had the opportunity to commit the other two senses to memory. He ran the silky fabric over his bare stomach. He may have to wear that monstrosity of a grey nightshirt while at Hogwarts for propriety's sake, but he much rather preferred sleeping naked.

Rubbing the fabric over his rapidly strengthening erection, he imagined that she was straddling him. Her velvety thighs gripping his hips as she rubbed her panty-covered heat against it. Severus wrapped her panties around his cock and allowed himself to become lost in the fantasy. In his mind he manufactured the rest of her body and dark walnut curls slowly began to caress his chest as she moved against him. Her face was still hazy, but her smile was brilliant. Her hard nipples grazed his chest as he increased the voracity of his thrusts. His hips mimicked the movement of her fingers last night, and he imagined eliciting the same response from her. This time, however, her pitched moans were intermingled with his own as he reached his climax and spilled himself into the wanton bit of cloth.

As he lay there, recovering from what was quite likely the most powerful self-attained orgasm of his life, rational thought slowly returned. While part of Severus longed to be buried deep within this mystery woman, another part of him (the one he was much more accustomed to listening to) was screaming at him to acknowledge the potential danger of this situation. For God's sake, he didn't even know who this woman was, and yet he'd been more than willing to allow her to manipulate him.

"Fuck, I came in my pants like an adolescent schoolboy!" he exclaimed as he began to pace the study and mentally berate himself for allowing his control to slip and commit such an egregious error.

'I've spent the greater part of my life establishing myself within the Dark Lord's inner ranks while attempting to ensure my own self-preservation, and one woman parts her thighs and rubs her clit, and all that I've worked for, all that I've become, just flies out the window!' Although if he had to be honest with himself he'd admit that she wasn't just any woman; she was... captivating. No woman had ever left him so completely enraptured, and certainly not the trash that lewdly displayed themselves at dark revels. No, this woman, this passionate creature, was different. As he made his way to the kitchen, one thought was at the forefront of his mind: good or bad, he needed to know who this woman was...