The Ride

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Hermione looked at her bedside clock.

It was 3:30 and she had been lying awake for almost an hour. Her mind would not calm and her body was beginning to get restless. She threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of her bed. She looked down at herself, considering whether or not she should put on a dressing gown. She wore a pair of black cotton knickers and a light pink camisole. The air was neither overbearingly warm nor cool, and she still felt slightly lethargic. She decided against the dressing gown.

She set her bare feet on the floor, enjoying the softness of her rug against the sensitive soles of her feet.

She walked out of her bedroom and into the bathroom, yawning and scratching the bare skin of her belly underneath her top.

She threw water on her face and used the loo, letting her mind drift to the dream that she had awoken from. She could remember the tingle that was going through her limbs when her eyes opened.

Lying in her bed, she could still feel Severus' hands on her body, in her hair. They had been in the taxi on their ride home from her parents' house, but in her dream she wasn't sleepy.

She had been thinking seriously about her bed, but not for resting purposes.

The dream began with the cab taking a sharp turn, sliding a seatbelt-less Hermione into Severus' side. She looked up to apologize to him just as he leaned down to see if she was ok. Their lips met and lingered on each other. Her eyes widened and then she let them drift closed. The second her eyes were shut, she was no longer touching Severus.

Indeed, she opened them to find herself looking out the window of a cab. Severus sat lengths away looking out his own window.

She shut her eyes for a moment and sighed, trying to get her bearings. As she reopened them she felt the cab take a sharp turn, sending Severus sliding from his window, his body colliding with hers and pressing her against her door.

She looked up to ask if he was all right and he looked down to apologize. Their lips met and she felt shivers rattle her spine. She felt her eyes drifting shut as she brought her hand up to cup his cheek.

She could feel his sharply defined cheekbone beneath her slightly unsteady hand. His soft lips opened slightly and she felt his tongue nudging her own lips apart.

Their mouths locked together, soft and wet and warm, as he brought one long fingered hand up to the side of her face, the other hand snaking around her waist. Her other arm came up to wrap around his neck and she sighed, reluctantly separating her lips from his, only for their mutual need of oxygen.

The moment their lips no longer touched, she felt a slight jolting feeling, and then the sensations of his arms around her, his skin beneath her fingers, and his warm breath were all gone.

Her eyes opened to find herself leaning against the door to the taxi, seeing Severus across the seat looking out his own window.

He slowly turned his head to look at her. He opened his mouth and practically growled her name, just as she almost hissed his.

In an almost synchronized movement, they both sprang at each other, meeting in the middle of the cab's back seat. Their lips met in a searing kiss. Her hands threaded into his hair, nails scraping his scalp in a way that made him groan low in his throat, as his hands roamed her back, pulling her body flush against his own.

Their tongues tangled and hands explored. She was reluctant to lose any sort of contact with him. She felt his hand inch lower until it rested at the hem of her blouse. And then it was beneath her shirt, his cold hand running up her bare back. His other soon moved to join the first. But the second she felt the palm touching her warm skin, she felt almost a shock through her body and a sudden feeling of loss.

She opened her eyes to find herself across the cab from her friend and partner.

Their eyes met and she groaned. His gaze alone lit a fire near her lower belly.

Their bodies moved towards each other slowly, their lips being the last things to meet.

As their lips molded together, her body moved of its own accord, one leg swinging over his legs until she straddled him. She was in his lap, her breasts pressed against his warm chest.

She groaned again when his lips left hers, but she sighed in appreciation as they moved to her neck. She let her head roll back as he suckled at the sensitive skin beneath her ear. His hands were in her trousers, pulling her knicker-covered arse towards him.

She felt the graze of his teeth at the nape of her neck just as she realized what the hard, pulsating bulge pressing into her inner thigh was.

Her eyes flew open to discover that she was once again sitting across the seat from the man who was definitely the cause of the moisture now collecting in her knickers.

Her body stung with arousal and she let out a scream, closing her eyes to stop her frustrated tears.

Her eyes flew open, then. She was still screaming, her eyes unfocused but looking into those of the man before her. Her body tensed in orgasm as she felt his bare skin against hers, his hands cupping her breasts as his hips bucked up to meet hers. He pushed further into her than she had ever felt a man go. She wasn't sure if they were still in the cab or not, and she really didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that his naked body was jerking and pulsing under her own. His skin was as hot as hers, and she could feel their mingled sweat drip down between and beneath her breasts. She screamed again as her walls tensed around him. She saw starbursts and shut her eyes to the bright light, discovering more flashes of light behind her eyelids.

She had opened her eyes to find herself lying in her bed, alone, with a burning, tingling feeling of loss throughout her entire body.

==

She left the bathroom, her dream already slipping from her memory. Her mind grasped at the fading images as she walked past her bedroom, not even noticing that the door across from hers was open, the room beyond empty.

The feelings and sensations she had woken with were becoming more and more distant. She tried to remember basic things, what had happened, where she had been, who she'd been with... but her still sleepy brain kept pushing them just beyond her mind's reach.

She raised her arms above her head as she walked through the living room. She stretched and yawned like a cat in the sun. Her eyes closed with the satisfaction of her muscles stretching and her bones shifting, before she could register the light from the lamp by the bookshelves or the open book lying face down on the high backed reading chair.

She did notice the refrigerator light shining when she lazily opened her eyes mid-stretch. The white light was silhouetting Severus Snape, wearing only a pair of boxers, drinking from a bottle of milk.

==

Severus Snape drank milk from the bottle. Hermione had reprimanded him several times in their weeks together, telling him it was uncouth and unsanitary. He had stopped doing it in front of her. She no longer complained. And if she noticed that the milk supply would decrease without a dirty glass appearing in the sink, she didn't say anything.

In the wizarding world, Severus merely told someone or something that he wanted a glass of milk, and one would appear. Usually with biscuits, although he rarely asked for them. When he was finished, the glass would go away. For all he knew the house-elves never did dishes, simply threw away his empty milk glass and conjured another upon request.

He was not concerned with the affairs of house-elves.

The affairs of Muggles, the necessity to find and pour and wash and put away, had never concerned him either.

Oh Merlin, he thought, I certainly hope Albus' next game doesn't involve us acting as house-elves.

He did at least put the bottle back into the refrigerator. He was a masquerading wizard, not an animal, after all.

He was actually rather keen on the Muggle refrigerator. It was as efficient as a cooling or freezing charm, kept his kitty-bags of restaurant leftovers fresh, and the soft hum it regularly generated was oddly comforting to his restless mind.

Severus was especially interested in the little light bulb inside the refrigerator. It was perplexing. He wondered, was the light always on or did it turn off when the door closed? He had posed this question to Hermione, after several attempts to open and shut the refrigerator swiftly enough to catch the light bulb unawares. Hermione had smiled patronizingly and said something about a tree in the forest and a clapping hand.

He hadn't understood her, but dared not ask again. Her cryptic answer had reminded him too much of Albus.

==

When he looked toward the dining room and saw her watching him in the dim light, he was glad he had resisted the urge to test the little bulb again. She was staring at him, a little too sleepily to be considered wide-eyed. Her hair was everywhere and her cheeks were flushed.

He took in the rest of her; bare feet, a pair of knickers and a tiny scrap of a top. It was then that he became aware of his own state of undress; he stood wearing only his boxers, the hair on his legs and few hairs on his chest sticking straight out in reaction to the cold refrigerator.

He stilled his hand as his arms flew up automatically to cover himself. After all, there was no reason to react like a fifth-year caught changing after Quidditch. Besides, what was there to cover? The only truly offensive bits were firmly encased in his boxer shorts. It had been a long time, however, since anyone but Poppy Pomfrey had seen him so exposed. And he mostly didn't count her, as he had learned that even with magic, she could not do a proper medical examination, much less heal his wounds, through five layers of cotton and black wool, and was thus entitled and forced to see him without clothing.

He turned his instinctive urge to cover himself into a nonchalant yet suave brushing of his shoulder at a very believable non-existent piece of lint. He cleared his throat and her still clearly sleepy eyes snapped to his.

He shifted away from the refrigerator door and tried to gauge her comfort.

"Good evening, Hermione," he said, in his most I'm-not-uneasy tone.

"Hello, Severus," she replied, sounding completely at ease. "Had trouble sleeping?"

He had, though he no longer remembered the dream that had woken him an hour earlier. "I enjoy reading at night," he told her, gesturing across the living room to the open book on his chair.

"Hm," she half-sighed, reaching up and scratching her stomach. "Me too. I was just going to get a glass of juice and see about finishing my book." She seemed to notice then that her hand, underneath her tank top, scratching beneath her breast, had caused the already revealing shirt to expose the area between her knickers and belly button.

She hastily tugged the shirt down, almost revealing her breast in the process, and shifted awkwardly.

"I apologize," he began. "I must be making you terribly uncomfortable in my state of undress. I'll go cover myself."

"Severus," she replied, forgetting her uneasiness in her frustration with him. "We are both adults, here. I am not your student and you are no longer my professor. There is no reason to react immaturely." She paused in her reprimand. "Unless you're uncomfortable?"

She looked slightly hopeful and he almost gave in to the urge to shout 'Yes, I am!' and run. But he was an adult and would not admit such a juvenile discomfort. "No," he said, though to his ears it didn't sound entirely confident. "I'm just fine."

"Okay, then."

"Okay."

They stood looking at each other in silence until she cleared her throat. "Er, I was still hoping to have a glass of juice."

"Yes, of course, go ahead," he mumbled, trying to pass through the wide archway from the kitchen without rubbing anything of his against anything of hers.

"Oh, by the way," she said as he made his way to his chair. "You've got a bit of a milk mustache..." he looked at her quizzically, "er... some milk still on your upper lip."

He reached up and rubbed at the spot she was indicating with her small fingers, pulling his hand away to see a white smear on the back of it.

She got her juice and settled in her chair, next to him, opening her novel to the page she'd left off.

==

Severus awoke feeling the early-morning sun on his face. He looked at his friend and partner curled up asleep in her oversized chair. Her book lay in her lap, closed but with two of her fingers wedged in her place. Her head rested on the soft back of her chair, her mouth slightly open. The fabric was darker where her lips met it and he realized after a moment that she was drooling.

He looked at the rest of her, noticing her relatively un-clothed state, and then recalled his own.

He was out of his chair and across the room before he remembered how they had come to be asleep in their chairs half naked.

His door shut a bit louder than he had hoped, but he was safely barricaded in before Hermione's head rose and she looked around sleepily.

Her hand came up to wipe her slightly moist chin as she stumbled into her room, shutting the door and folding happily into bed.

~~

"What'ya say we go out for breakfast?" Hermione asked, not entirely sure why she felt mildly uncomfortable.

"Lunch." Severus had been quiet and unresponsive. This was not very unusual, however, and Hermione thought little of it.

She looked at her watch; it was quarter 'til one.

"Breakfast. Lunch. Same difference," she said. Apparently already expecting a yes, she was putting her coat on near the front door. "We'll drink coffee and read the paper. It'll be fun." He raised an eyebrow at her. "...Ish. C'mon. Get up, let's go."

She opened the door and waited while he stood and put on his long black coat, grumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'bossy'.

==

"I miss the boys."

"Why?"

Hermione sighed, wishing she hadn't said anything.

"Never mind," she said, taking another sip of her coffee.

They sat quietly for a moment before Severus folded his paper before him and looked her in the eye.

"Really," he said, sincerely, "I just don't understand. Explain it to me."

"Why I miss them?"

"Yes, that. And why you like them so much. Why they remain your best friends. You're not an awkward teenager anymore. Potter no longer relies on your intelligence and Weasley's loyalty to keep him alive. You're a grown woman now. You have little in common with those two."

"We share more than you think," she snapped.

He raised an eyebrow and Hermione could see a rather incredulous look, followed by a quizzical gaze. She caught his misunderstanding before the ridiculous question formed on his thin lips.

"They're my friends, my best friends. Whether my mother wants something else or not, I've never been truly romantically involved with either."

"The staff had a pool going in your sixth year as to when you and Mr. Weasley would be romantically inseparable."

"Well, you must have all been very disappointed when Ron and I went separate ways after a physically awkward week of attempting to date."

"No. Well, everyone else was. I won the pool. I said that you would come to your senses in less than a fortnight."

"Is that so? What did you win?"

Severus smirked, remembering the eighth day after two thirds of the golden trio had been spotted holding hands awkwardly. The head table had been abuzz when Harry Potter sat between his two friends at lunch.

"Fifteen Galleons, six months off from Hogsmeade chaperoning, first pick of scheduling the next year, and a bag of lemon drops."

Hermione smiled. "Well, I'm glad someone gained something from that ridiculous relationship."

Severus nodded, fondly remembering his free Saturdays spent brewing his own potions instead of watching students frolic to and from Honeydukes.

"So what is it, then?" he asked without malice. "What has held you three so close for over ten years? What have those two done to deserve such devotion from you?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "They love me. Unconditionally. Other than my family, they're the only ones who ever have. They're my best friends. I can't imagine my life without those two idiots. We've been through so much together, good and bad. Death, disease, love, pain, new life, war, peace, hatred, just growing up... I can't explain it. I just know that I'm happier when I'm with those two dunderheads than when I'm not."

When she looked at him again, she got the distinct feeling that she'd said something wrong.

She had no idea what it was, so she ignored the sensation and continued.

"Like when I'm with my parents and Persy. They drive me crazy, but they're my family. Harry and Ron are a sort of family too. So is Hogwarts. There's a certain 'at home' feeling I get. It's a different comfort and happiness than any other. Those two... I don't feel like I do with them during the rest of my time. And when I'm at home with my family, there's a part of me that's perfectly content. Or during staff meetings. Or in my library. Or at Order meetings."

He looked thoughtful. She considered letting a bit of silence pass, but her mouth overrode her mind and she let out a small chuckle. He looked at her, slightly startled.

"It's silly. You don't understand what I love and miss about them. But when I'm with them, if I start trying to tell them about something interesting I talked about with you, or something funny you've said, they get on my case that same way. They don't understand why I willingly spend time with you, what I see in you. I thing it actually bothers them a bit when I'm spending time with them and... 'just want to talk about the greasy git.'" She smiled at him. "Perhaps you three aren't as different as you claim to be."

He was silent after that, and eventually they both went back to reading the paper and sipping their coffee.

==

"All of these people around... I think they're giving me hives."

"You're so overdramatic."

"Am not. Look." He pulled up the sleeve of his left arm. It was a pinkish color, as opposed to his usual paleness.

"You've been scratching at it for twenty minutes. Of course it's red and sensitive."

"No, all of these people made it like that. I've been scratching merely to relieve the discomfort."

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes.

"I've never seen you like this at Hogwarts."

"So?"

"So... You're surrounded by people then. Children, no less. I've never seen you scratch once."

He looked at her, as though not understanding why that meant he must be faking now.

"How is it, then, that all of these-" she waved her arm to indicate the other diners, "people give you hives, but Wizarding groups don't?"

"Anti-Hives spell."

"There is no such thing."

"Sure there is. It's a flick-flick-swish followed by two semi-circles, while saying..." he paused again, and Hermione knew he was making something up, "no-hives-ium from dunderhead-itus-group-os."

She looked at him with a latent disbelief she had only dreamed of showing him when she was his student.

He knew what the look meant, but nodded, as though her silence meant acceptance, and went back to his paper.

==

The waitress came over to drop their check. They'd sat there awhile after eating lunch, drinking their coffee and reading their papers. It had gotten a bit busy, but in general she had kept their coffees filled and never asked them to just leave already.

Hermione smiled at the girl. She was a few years younger – maybe Persy's age. She was probably working for pocket money over the summer holiday. She had been sweet and Hermione planned to give her a generous tip. The girl grinned back at Hermione, then turned to thank Severus for his patronage.

He scowled at her, as he had for most of their meal, and offered a slight head-nod of acknowledgement.

The waitress turned back to Hermione, her smile slightly dimmed, as Hermione counted the bills to pay her.

Severus had gone back to reading his paper, studiously ignoring both women. As Hermione paid the girl, she gestured for her to lean closer.

"That means he likes you. If he didn't, he wouldn't have nodded, and you might have heard him growl."

"Really?" the girl asked, slightly disbelievingly, daring another glance to the erect newspaper across the table.

"Quite. Plus, he's not scratching." The girl's uneasiness changed to confusion. Hermione didn't plan on explaining his hives, so she continued. "Anyway, I just meant to say that it's not you, he's just an arse." The paper cleared its throat, reminding Hermione that it was not a silence barrier. "The look he gave you was approval. You've done a lovely job taking care of us."

The girl's smile brightened, sincerely, and she glanced at him again. "If that's approval, I'd hate to be on his bad side."

Hermione let out a light chuckle. "You have no idea," she said, almost fondly.

"How long have you two been together?"

Hermione's brow furrowed for a moment and the waitress saw it. "It's just that I can't imagine how much work it would be to get affection."

Hermione's face flushed a bit, through no fault of her own, and the girl sighed. "I wish I had someone like that. Are you two married?" The girl's eyes strayed from Hermione's face to her left hand, and Hermione instinctively folded her hands together.

"Oh, no. We're not-"

"Ah. Just waiting for him to pop the question, eh? D'ya think he's the romantic type? Well, I suppose you know... I'm sorry, you probably think I'm being terribly nosy and rude. I just... I see a lot of couples in here who I know just won't last. The ones that grope each other, the ones who try to keep up conversation the whole time. It's nice to see you two, so comfortable and in love-"

"We're not - !" Hermione paused a moment, hoping her voice wouldn't squeak again. "We're not together – like... that. We're just, erm..." Two wizards playing a game, who got stuck with each other for partners and then saddled with the team name snarky-smarty... "Friends. And co-workers." Hermione felt like she was lying, she had no idea why. "Just friends," she repeated, more firmly.

"Ah," replied the young waitress, putting the bill in her apron pocket and patting Hermione lightly on the shoulder. "One of those," she said knowingly. "Good luck then, girl."

As she walked away, Hermione was tempted to argue with her, to explain that there just wasn't... Severus folded his paper and took a final sip of coffee, moving to stand.

"Shall we?" he asked, neither an angry nor an amused look on his face.

Hermione rose. At the door she allowed him to help her with her coat. As he held the door open for her, she glanced one last time at their waitress.

Hermione wasn't sure, but she could have sworn the girl winked at her.

==

When they arrived home, they found a letter waiting for them. Hermione controlled her curiosity enough to let Severus read it first, but quickly snatched it from his hand when he finished reading. His eyes were no longer fixed on the page, and that was good enough to Hermione as him holding it out and announcing, 'I'm done.'

==

"Well, I suppose I'm happy for them."

"Hermione, there have been many times when your sometimes disjointed logic has eluded me. But I cannot see how one could be happy for our game's most recent losers."

"The full moon is nearing." When Severus looked no more enlightened, she explained, "Last game, they weren't able to finish, because of Remus' changing. It's good for them that they got to play out this entire game."

"But they still lost."

"Yes," Hermione replied, as though talking to a child. "But they earned it."

"So you feel," he replied, as though talking to a mad person, "that they are fortunate to have lost, because losing because of Miss Lovegood's slightly off-kilter imagination is better than losing because the game was not set expecting a condition that Lupin has no control over?" Hermione nodded. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. No one would prefer to have losing be their fault over bad timing! And the only thing you should be happy for is that their disqualification has left us with one less opponent."

"Well, I'm sorry. But I just don't think like that," Hermione replied. Upon considering his words, her eyes narrowed. "And that's horrible – to be glad they've failed. They are our friends and we should be rooting for them-"

Severus snorted. "Perhaps they are your friends, but the werewolf and that girl are not my friends. Even if they were, there's only one team that I'm rooting for. Us."

"Well," she sighed, walking to her room, "if you can't show sportsman-like conduct, there's no point in even arguing this with you."

Her door shut, he headed toward the kitchen, smirking in what might have been considered a disconcerting way.

"'Spose not."

He was almost sure, when he opened the refrigerator, that he saw the light blink on, from an unlit state.

==

She smiled, having enjoyed the argument despite herself. Arguing with Severus Snape was fun, she thought, as she toed off her shoes.

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===

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Author's Notes