Unreal

Thanks to JKR.

And thanks to GinnyW, the fabulous beta, for much handholding!

35. UNREAL

Her scent awakened him first.

Then, her soft whimper.

Curled against him, her body called out to him, even in her sleep.

His cock ached and throbbed, pressed as it was between his belly and the luscious swell of her arse.

They were both naked. It would be so easy...so fucking easy...to pull her even tighter against him, to simply slide between those plump folds, to find her tight and hot and wet and to pull out, then slide back in. To repeat the strokes, so slowly, so slowly, so slowly....

But she was asleep.

Fucking hell.

Was this the way it was between husbands and wives? Was it that easy, to just reach and take in the early hours of the morning?

Was he supposed to wake her up and ask permission?

He could smell her, damn it.

He was moving against her, the ache grown to a full-fledged pain as his body responded to hers.

And again, that soft whimper...

She ground against him in her sleep. Ground against him!

If that wasn't a fucking invitation, what was?

He slid his fingers down the silky warmth of her thigh, slipped his hand between her legs and parted them gently....

And got a face full of hair as she arched back into him.

The reaction...the heat that coursed through him...left him dry-mouthed and hard as a teenaged boy.

Again.

After the night they'd spent.

Merlin's fucking ghost.

He squirmed, trying to find the right spot...

She rolled out of range, even as she whimpered again.

He curled his arm around her, braced her body, and...fuck fuck fuck oh fucking hell, yes!...found her quim, wet and hot and fuck it all, eager. He pressed in gently and felt her soft flesh part for him and the dark, spongy interior of her vagina accept him, welcome him, so tight, so fucking tight. This time, when she moved, the texture of her vaginal walls around him almost curled his toes. Slowly, he pressed forward and her trembling flesh welcomed him.

So quiet... so quiet and cold and black in the dungeon, as if nothing existed in the entire castle except their coupling, the hot juncture of his flesh and hers, a slow building heat of slow movements and soft sighs. Oh, Merlin, those soft sighs were killing him...soft sleepy sighs...as he pulled almost all the way out, her flesh clutching him with delicious friction, and then slid back in with a groan.

She suddenly clutched his forearms with her hands, and he realized she was awake...tighter, even tighter, now that she was aware and responding with the full focus of her mind as well as her body.

She turned her face into his shoulder, and her whimper turned into a moan as he increased the rhythm of his thrusts. Gods, he was at the point of losing it, of shooting into her with all the force of his lust when she suddenly stiffened, squeezing him in rippling waves of orgasm that left him unable to breathe, to move. She cried out into the darkness, a long beautiful cry that tore him apart and sent him over the edge. He clutched her like a lifeline, clung to her as he felt life force jetting from him in exquisite spurts of semen, until he quivered with the sheer ecstasy of it all...

This girl, this woman, this witch.

It seemed an eternity before he breathed again.

He was still in her as she shuddered with aftershocks, and each aftershock sent a corresponding tremor through him.

He cupped her breasts and nuzzled through her hair until he found the tender spot where her neck and shoulder joined. He tongued it, tasting the sweet salt of her skin, wanting to absorb her into him, to keep her there, safe and warm and his.

She reached one arm behind his head and stroked his hair, sighing so sweetly, like an angel in the dark....

"How can you stand it?" she whispered against him. "Now that you've made me feel. I don't know how I can bear it, knowing that we have to wait an entire week to do it again. But you knew. You knew what we were missing. How did you...how can you stand the waiting?"

I didn't know.

That was the simple truth. He knew what a quick orgasm felt like, and knowing that was difficult enough. But, now. Now. Now that he knew what sex with her was like.... Sex with his Miss Granger...

His.

"Would it be easier if we...if we didn't sleep together?"

He clutched her against him convulsively. "No."

She relaxed against him so sweetly, her sigh so compliant. "I'm so glad."

The hollow ache came back.

The fucking vows.

He felt his entire body go rigid with tension.

"Miss Granger, you must know...you could have said no."

"No to what?"

"Just now. When I woke you. You didn't have to let me."

And this time, she was the one who stiffened. "At what point was I supposed to say no? While I was still asleep? Or when I woke up with your penis already..." she caught her breath and then continued, "moving in me?"

And then, she melted against him again. "I didn't want to say no."

"If you'd said no, I wouldn't have been angry," he explained weakly. "You can't go around allowing things just because I..."

"It's not evil," she said. She reached for his face, tracing its contours in the darkness, and he let her. And when her fingers drifted to his mouth, he found himself seeking them like a babe sought sustenance, sucking them into him to lave with his tongue.

Her breath caught and her body pressed more tightly against him, soft skin and warmth and scent and sighs....

"Whatever it is that is happening between us," she said urgently, "isn't Dark. It's not evil."

He released her fingers with a gasp as she closed her hand around his cock. He didn't think he could...Merlin, he was only flesh and blood, and it was too soon...

She held him in her hand, and nestled against him and sighed, "It's Saturday. We can go back to sleep, can't we, Professor?"

And somehow, with her hand embracing him most intimately and the comfort of her body in his arms, he did just that.

XX

She came awake suddenly.

Nothing woke her. Crookshanks was asleep by the fireplace; she could hear his purr. Professor Snape was snoring softly in her ear. (Did she snore? How embarrassing to think she might. Lavender did, so it was possible... Oh, she couldn't even think about that or she'd die of mortification.)

His breath warmed her bare shoulder, just as his skin warmed her everywhere they were pressed together. And where they weren't connected, the bed seemed to provide its own warmth, just as it seemed to hold them protectively in its embrace.

Professor Dumbledore had looked at her with pity. With pity.

The humiliation burned through her anew as she recognized the absurdity that she should despise Dumbledore for witnessing it and curled into the arms of the husband who had brought it on her.

She rubbed her cheek against his stubble and the rasps felt like velvet to her. Whatever was happening couldn't be a bad thing. It simply couldn't. And it was up to her to prove it.

If only she could keep him here with her in this bed and keep the world while keeping the Dark Lord at bay....

She desperately needed the loo.

And to think.

In that order.

She managed to ease out of his arms without waking him. She grabbed her wand from beneath her pillow and cast a warming charm over his body and then a quieting charm to surround him. She didn't want to wake him up, not before she could return and slip back under the covers again.

She scampered across the cold stone floor to the bathroom and gently shut the door.

"Lumos."

The candles in the sconces lit with flames, and she managed to sit on the toilet...just in time.

And wince.

She was a bit sore.

More than a bit, actually.

Sex seemed to use all sorts of muscles that she hadn't realized she even possessed. Not to mention the obvious muscles.

A wave of the wand and the tub started filling with steaming water. Another wave, and bath salts hit the teaming surface. A final wave, and several towels wafted their way to the side of the deep, claw-footed tub.

She slid into it with a moan.

Oh, god, it felt so good.

It smelled so good.

She reached back and struggled with her hair, finally getting it twisted into a semblance of a controlled wad on the back of head, and jammed her wand through at an angle.

Fuck Bellatrix Lestrange, she thought viciously. Surely she wasn't the only witch who wore her hair this way, surely.

She sank back against the tub, closed her eyes and let the water begin to do its work.

And when she could no longer avoid it, she began to think.

About Muggle vows.

About Professor Snape's accusations.

About the hard knot of fear in her own breast.

She felt a war going on within her own body, perhaps even within her soul. It was a war between this blazing, glorious thing that was growing stronger each moment...

And the cold, malicious thought that maybe it wasn't real.

And deep in her traitorous heart she didn't want to know the truth.

What good was magic if it couldn't bring you true love?

Even if it wasn't real....

XX

Bloody hell, the witch was trying to drown herself!

Water splashed over the edges of the tub and onto the floor. It spread under the door and across the room and if the blasted cat hadn't pounced on him he would have slept through the flood.

As it was, he Evanescoed the water, turned off the faucet and stood over the tub, glaring down at her where she slept with foamy water up to her chin.

He emptied the tub with a flick of his fingers.

Even with the cold dimpling her skin and her nipples...Merlin, look at what it did to her nipples!...she still slept.

"Mobilicorpus," he said softly and floated her back to the bed where he covered her with a warming spell, followed by the red sheets, green velvet covers and the ridiculous floral bedcover that had belonged to her grandmother, the witch.

She slept through it all.

He heard the Floo fire flare behind him and cast a quick silencing spell around her. He grabbed a robe to cover his own nudity, and turned to see Albus's head.

"Severus, when you and Miss-Madam Snape didn't appear at breakfast or at lunch, I felt I should check and make sure nothing was amiss?"

"We had a busy night," he snapped.

"Well, erm, yes, I'm aware of that."

Not by half. "Did you require anything else?"

"There's no need to be rude."

Snape snapped his fingers at the head in the fire and watched it vanish.

A tub of hot water seemed like a fucking good idea.

He was halfway back to the bathroom when a movement from the bed caught his eye.

She rolled over, her eyebrows wrinkled in discomfort. She shifted her hips under the covers, never waking.

Bloody hell.

They'd treated her vagina like it was a railroad station complete with rails rather than soft, tender tissue unaccustomed to invasion. He paced to the potions cabinet and rifled through it until he found a pot of healing unguent.

He sat on the side of the bed, raised the covers enough to slide his hand beneath and ease his unguent-coated fingers between her legs. Gingerly, he massaged the cream into her plump folds and as far into her channel as he could reach as he tried to stifle his body's own wretched response to the liberties he was taking.

Her eyelashes...thick, curly and dark against her ivory skin...fluttered open.

He withdrew his hand.

"Professor... " she murmured with a drowsy smile. "Could today be another honeymoon day...?"

"I have business to attend."

Her eyes clouded over and she reached for him. "Don't leave me."

It pierced him.

"Go back to sleep." His voice was hard but he touched his fingertips to her eyelids and let them linger there, holding them closed, as his hand cupped her cheek.

He felt more than a twitch of torment as she did just that.

He closed the unguent and left it on the table beside the bed.

First, a bath, then food, then he needed to take another and less pleasing liberty with Miss Granger's privacy.

XX

He was clothed against the cold wind and making his way from the castle to the Apparation point outside the grounds when an owl found him.

He removed the rolled parchment from its leg and recognized it as Malfoy's.

"... this afternoon, if convenient..."

He ground out a curse, pulled an ever-inked quill from an inner pocket of his cloak and scribbled an agreement across the bottom, then gave the owl a dry treat to return it.

But, first things first.

He stepped into a turn and Apparated straight into...

Miss Granger's childhood bedroom.

His arrival was almost silent. He braced himself, ready to pop right back out, but it was empty, as he'd expected. A minute's frozen silence revealed no approaching footsteps or any other indication that anyone was aware a stranger was present.

He knelt beside her bookcase, snagged her prayer book and, after a quick scan of titles, two scholarly looking tomes on Anglican theology. If this weren't enough he'd return for more.

He shrunk them, put them in a pocket, and then gritted his teeth for his next stop.

Lucius.

XX

Hermione carefully wrote her request on a slip of parchment, signed it and tossed it into the Floo.

She'd never sent a message through the Floo before, but if teachers were allowed to do it, why not?

Five minutes later she had a response written in purple...purple!...ink.

My dear Madam Snape,

Albus Dumbledore

With that taken care of, she beckoned her trunk from under the bed and dug through it until she found the small wooden box she sought. While it was the size of a matchbox, after she reversed the Shrinking Spell it was more the size of a cigar box.

With it clutched securely, she paced the quarters, looking for wall space. She'd never dreamed that she would think the thought, "Too many bookshelves," but now that she needed a bare wall, think it, she did.

She lowered the wards and entered his private laboratory. Shelves and more shelves, only broken up by the occasional cabinet.

The bathroom had walls....

She was halfway through the door when she gave her head a hard shake.

No. There was no way she could do her research in the loo!

With a low mutter, she began her pacing again.

XX

A house-elf escorted Severus into the Malfoy conservatory where Lucius lounged on a wicker chaise, another house-elf busily buffing his master's nails.

"Come in, come in," Lucius beckoned with a languid wave of his free hand toward the low table. "Help yourself, if you'd like."

Only Lucius would decant Old Ogden's into a crystal decanter. Still, the steamy vapors that drifted down its contours did make an alluring sight.

He poured himself a shot and took his seat opposite the indolent blond. "And why do you presume upon my time, Lucius?"

Lucius cuffed the house-elf away from his right hand and gave him a preemptory shove toward the other side of his chaise where his left hand rested. "Just thought I'd check on your progress with your Mudblood bride. You seemed to be having a little trouble getting her to warm to your bed."

"She is my bride, as you say, and as such I needn't point out to you the insult you heap upon me when you insult her." Snape allowed a real frown to mar his features. "And I have no idea what you're nattering about."

Lucius settled back into the cushion and smirked. "Call her what you like. My talent, of course, is knowing just that sort of thing. The girl is as tightly wound and repressed as a nun."

Now it was Snape's turn to smirk, if only to mask his slowly simmering anger. Yes, if one could consider it a talent, a certain type of sexual awareness and deduction was certainly one of Lucius's strengths, as self-serving as it was.

And one of Snape's many strengths was the ability to read one Lucius Malfoy. Beneath the blond's languor was a certain alertness. He seemed to have quite an interest in Miss Granger's so-called repression.

"Kind of you to care, Lucius," he finally said, then took a slow sip of firewhisky.

"You've waited so long for a woman, Severus. I was prepared to offer you advice or ... assistance?" The smirk went full wattage.

Severus slammed the empty shot glass down with controlled force. "I'm sure you would, but actually, the job has already been accomplished."

"Oh, I know. I do know. Even if I hadn't dropped by the Ministry this morning, it's written all over you."

The Ministry? He'd known they were being monitored. He'd known it. Why did this confirmation hit him like a Bludger, then?

Despite the need to put as much distance between Lucius Malfoy and his own need to hex, Snape poured himself another glass. This was indeed information he desired. "You act surprised," he murmured.

Lucius gave him a slight salute. "If you didn't warm her to your bed, you damn well lost patience with her reticence. Either way, congratulations, my dear friend. You should enjoy her while you have her, after all."

While he had her?

"Do you know something I don't?"

"I'm sure I know many things you don't. But we both know whatever tolerance the Dark Lord is exercising in regards to your marriage is just that...tolerance, and sure to be short-lived. I wouldn't be at all surprised to have him summon her to a revel."

"You're delusional. The marriage contract would never allow such a thing."

"Of course it would."

He met Lucius's icy gray gaze.

"Pray tell, illuminate me how one participates in revels while under a fidelity charm."

Lucius tossed his head back and laughed, full-throated and rich. "Oh, poor Sev, surely you didn't think it was a fidelity charm. I thought you of all wizards would appreciate how little need there is for actual fidelity in such a union as yours."

Snape carefully placed his glass on the low table without taking another sip. It steamed and bubbled gently, the only thing moving in the room.

"Severus, all they care about is that the offspring are infused with new blood, however muddy it might be. There is no fidelity charm nor is there monitoring of which pure blood line is introduced into her body."

"That rather defeats the purpose of the experiment," Severus said stiffly. "If you can't trust the ancestral lines that are recorded with the Ministry, within another generation the problems we're having now could look miniscule..."

"Who gives a flying fuck about the ancestral lines of a Mudblood brat? On the slight possibility that a remarkable child is born...and in Granger's case I grudgingly admit that possibility...it will be snatched up by a pureblood quickly enough. As for the rest, they will not survive to procreate. The Dark Lord has other plans."

His mind raced right along with his blood. None of this should surprise him, but on the heels of the night he'd had, it certainly wasn't easy news. He opened his mouth to ask the question he knew Lucius was waiting for. About the revel. About Miss Granger. About the Dark Lord's plans. He fought for calm, but it seemed just beyond his reach...

When a reflective flash of light hit his eyes from behind Lucius's shoulder. The sun had shifted just enough to reflect straight into his face.

And he laughed.

A small mirror.

A fucking test.

And he'd almost fallen for it.

He rubbed the smile from his face with one hand and smirked at Lucius as he rose to his feet. "When the Dark Lord is ready for his revel, feel free to inform me, Lucius."

He paused, not wanting to move out of the charmed mirror's view. "Although I'm sure I'll know of any plans that affect me and my bride long before you do. My Lord knows he can trust me with any task. He also knows that I don't play well with others and I don't share my toys."

Lucius rose gracefully and followed Severus out of the conservatory and into the drawing room. "It's just a warning between friends," he said in a low voice. "Don't get too attached to the idea of having the girl in your bed. It can't last, you know."

Severus felt the bile in the back of his throat. "On that, we can agree," he replied, accepting it as nothing but the truth.

"And Severus," Lucius added, his voice rich with pleasure, "lest you think I'm lusting after your Mudblood... "

Severus paused outside the Apparation Foyer and forced one last, questioning look at the man he'd love to fell with a two-word curse.

"I just thought I'd point out to you how quickly she turns to Weasleys when she's distressed and how eager they are to soothe away her cares."

Lucius smirked.

"And you'd never know."