The Beginning of the End

The feeling of intense cold wakes me up enough to feel uncomfortable. I groggily reach behind me and tug on the blankets. They hardly move, and I shift my body to see what they might have caught on. I suck in a shocked breath as I catch a glimpse of the dark form beside me. Adrenaline surges through me, my heart thudding painfully against my chest before my brain finally catches up. This wasn't some faceless intruder, it is him. He actually stayed the night.

How appropriate, the man's a sodding blanket hog.

I roll onto my side as softly as I can and gently tug on the blanket once more. He lets out a small grunting sore and shifts his body just enough so that I can pull the material loose. With a shiver, I ease back against the mattress, pulling the blankets around me as I try to force the early morning chill from my bones.

He stayed.

I don't know what that means – if it means anything. I hadn't anticipated that he would actually stay with me, at least, not the entire night. Nevertheless, he did. I have the strangest impulse to reach over and brush his dark hair from his face. Instead, I tuck my hand under my chin; touching him would surely awaken him, and I'm not ready to face an awake Snape... at least not yet.

I dip my chin down and gnaw on the fleshy part of my thumb pad as I observe him. I don't know which amazes me more, the fact that he stayed all night, or the fact that he trusts me enough to sleep. That he would, and is, doing either is incomprehensible to my sluggish brain.

Still, he is here. That has to count for something, doesn't it? I shift my thumb, letting my teeth nip at the nail.

Part of me wants to wake him up; conundrums always frustrate me, and I find I'm desperate for answers. We've been dancing around this... whatever you want to call it... for a while now, and it's gone nowhere (other than some fantastic sex). I'm no closer to understanding why he has actively engaged in my pursuit than he is of why I chase him. However, he's demanded to know why and has been fairly forceful about it.

Another part of me wants to let sleeping dogs lie. Do I really want to know why he went out of his way to replace the man I was Polyjuicing?

Stretching, my toes brush against the wiry hairs of his shin. I fight the urge to rub my foot along the length of his leg.

"If you persist in chewing on your thumb like a castigated three-year-old, you're going to cause yourself to bleed," he says, his eyes still closed.

His voice startles me, and I jerk, my hand falling listlessly to the mattress. "I didn't mean to wake you," I murmur in mortification.

I feel the bed shift as he rolls over. "You didn't."

"I should..." I trail off.

He is looming over me, his dark and intense eyes on mine. I can't look away. I feel open and vulnerable to his searching gaze. I swallow a small sob and close my eyes. I don't want to be that open with him, not now when he's got the upper hand – I can't let him have the much power over me.

His pale, scarred fingers stroke my cheek, and I blink up at him. His dark face searches mine – his glance is questioning. My lips open in a soft gasp and his head dips towards mine. He kisses me softly – in a way he has never kissed me before. There is no forcefulness, no domination. There is just the soft touch of his lips against mine.

His tongue gently slides across my lower lip, and I part them as I moan. His fingers caress my check, slowly tracing the sensitive skin around the curve of my jaw – just the barest of touches. I wonder if he can feel the flush of desire burning across my skin.

His lips trail small kisses across my cheek until his mouth is against my ear.

"Shall I continue?" he whispers, his breath fanning out against my neck. I shiver.

"Tell me," he draws out. His fingers have worked their way down my body and are light pulling on my nipples. "Shall I stop?"

"No," I moan. "Don't."

His fingers still. "Don't?"

My back arches up and I know he can feel how I tremble. "Don't stop," I grit out.

He chuckles as his lips touch against the hollow of my neck, it reverberates against my collarbone. His mouth feels hot, seductive and sinful – and I know, if he stops I will surely die. He moves over me – I part my thighs as he settles into the cradle of my legs, his body resting on top of me; his flesh feels glorious against mine.

His lips play in the dip between my breasts; I can feel the slight roughness of his five o'clock shadow rubbing against me. He nuzzles his way up the swell of one breast, one of his hands holding me firm. He takes the hardened nipple into his mouth – licking and tugging at the tight peak with his lips and teeth. All I can do is let out a soft sigh of pleasure, my legs restlessly rubbing against the outside of his.

Then he kisses his way across my chest to the next breast, nipping at my flesh with his teeth as moves. This nipple instantly hardens, waiting for his greedy mouth. How scary it is, how well he seems to know my body and my needs.

His hands wander over my body, touching every part in a manner that suggests easy familiarity. How easily he claims me, makes me quiver with just the touch of his mouth. I can feel my resolve to be strong weakening; were he to ask me why now, I'd tell him everything, pride be damned.

I slide my fingers against his jaw, feeling the roughness of his hair tickling my palm. He lifts his head; his hard eyes seem to pin me in place. I catch my breath, afraid to break this moment.

I watch as he lowers his mouth to my breast, sucking a tight nipple deeply into his mouth. My hands drop down to his shoulders, my nails digging into him as I feel his tongue roll around the stiffened peak, his teeth gently scraping across it. I arch up off the mattress feeling his hands stroke my flanks.

Down he moves, his mouth sliding over my ribs, moving back and forth over my fevered flesh as if he were branding me with his touch. I run my fingers through his dark hair, gripping at the ebony locks just as I arch up against him.

He licks the hollow of my navel, his tongue gently lathing my sensitive flesh. Playfully, he sticks the tip of his tongue into my belly button. His fingers stroke the insides of my thighs, teasing touches that make me tremble in anticipation.

The mattress moves as he shifts lower. I look down at the top of his head, just inches away from my mons. He gently blows cold air against my labia, and I suck in a deep breath. He raises his head, his eyes on mine. Holding my breath, I watch him as he lowers his head to me. He is watching me – watching my reaction as his tongue plays against my flesh.

I feel his fingers part me, and watch as he parts his lips. I gasp, clutching the sheets. My head falls back. His lips and tongue play at my flesh, lapping against my clitoris with teasing flicks.

His hands go beneath me, cupping my arse as he pulls me up and open. I can feel his tongue teasing my outer folds as he presses his face against my mons.

I almost come as his tongue thrusts into me. I raise my hands, gripping his hair as I arch up into his mouth. I instinctively grind against his mouth, feeling his tongue pressing into me. I can feel his fingers squeezing my arse as I ride his mouth, twisting and turning as he lazily torments me.

"Severus..." I cry out. I'm on the edge of an orgasm, a hard flick or two and I'd be there. I try to urge him on, encouraging him to suck on my clit until I scream his name, but he holds me steady.

He softly kisses at my flesh, licking at the less sensitive parts – holding me on the edge of my orgasm. I'm shaking with need, but he simply kisses the curve of my hip. The mattress dips under is weight as he rises above me, settling back on his knees.

His cock is gorgeous; straight and rigid with a pearl of pre-come coating the tip. I lick my lips as he begins to stroke the turgid flesh. I start to sit up, wanting to touch him when he places a hand on my lower stomach to still me.

"Shh," he says settling over me. The tip of his cock slides against my labia. Instinctively, I widen my hips. I feel him moving against me, teasing me with the hardness of him – coating himself in my wetness.

"Please, Severus," I moan. I can't take much more of this teasing. He moves over me, his body resting on top of me; his flesh feels glorious against mine.

I gasp in pleasure when he starts to push slowly push inside of me. My arms go up and wrap around his neck, my legs going around his own, wrapping around the outside of his thighs. His fingers grip my hips as he moves with gentle precision – the slow move ensuring that I feel every inch of him stretching me, forcing me to accommodate him.

I want to cry – he's taking so much care. This is so unlike our other encounters. I try to arch up, to angle my hips so that I can take him wholly inside of me. This soft seduction leaves me too vulnerable; I need the fast, passionate encounters of our past - that will protect me.

But he moves at his own pace, pushing onward, inward into me. I can't stifle my sob once he's fully inside of me.

He does not move – simply stays there, his cock buried deep inside of me. He watches my face, and I am afraid of what he sees there. I don't even realize that I'm really crying until I feel his fingers brushing at my tears. He kisses the tears from my face, holding me tightly in his arms.

"Hermione," he moans against my cheek.

"Severus," I respond in kind. I realize it is far too late to hide; I've gone too far and shown too much.

I stroke the back of his neck, letting my fingers tangle into his hair in a soft, soothing gesture. He lifts his face and looks at me. I can feel a tear wind its way down my cheek, and he brushes it away with the pad of his thumb.

I watch him watching me, noticing how impossibly dark his eyes seem as we move together in this dance of flesh. I feel him settling deeper inside of me, and I, wanting to hide from his knowing eyes, writhe beneath him. We share no words as he begins to move within me.

Automatically my body clenches around him, and he lets out a soft moan. I arch my hips urging him to move at the pace I so desperately need. He merely plunges into me in a slow, methodical method. I want to scream at him – tell him to move his arse and fuck me harder, that I need him hard, fast and deep, but the words clog my throat. It is pure agony of the sweetest kind.

His head falls to my shoulder; I can feel his hot breath against my ear as he moves his body. There are no soft, sweet words of love between us as our bodies move together; I keenly feel their loss – though I will never admit that. I've gotten more than I've a right to – I've gone from the fantasy of some paid stranger to... to this – everything I thought I wanted come true. I turn my head and kiss along his jaw line, trying to strangle the need to scream out my emotions.

His teeth scrape against my ear lobe; his breath hot and even against my flesh. The perverse imp inside of me wants him to feel as breathless and ragged as I feel.

"Fuck me," I tell him in a hoarse voice. I know, from past experience, what that does to him. "Fuck me hard, Severus." I let his name come out as a satisfied sigh as I feel him react to my words.

"Yes..." I moan, nipping at the nape of his neck. My fingers dig deep into the flesh of his back, clawing long trails down as he starts thrusting in and out of me at a faster pace. I move with him, urging him to take me deeper – wanting him to move faster.

"More, I need more..." I beg, my voice choked with emotions. He lifts his head, his dark eyes filled with a confused look as they lock on mine. I know I should look away – avert my eyes from his, but I can't – I can't hide any longer.

"Hermione," he groans as I writhe beneath him. As impossible as it sounds, it felt as if he was deeper inside of me than ever before. I arch against him as his movements become erratic. He starts to plunge in and out of me; driving his cock so deeply into me it almost feels uncomfortable. I don't care though – I needed this; I needed him.

I shudder around him, climaxing in sharp spasms that shake my entire body. I bite his shoulder, stifling the scream that I have no control over. He holds me tight, holding himself completely still as I orgasm around his hard flesh. I arch my hips against his, needing the friction of our bodies moving together. He lets out a strangled gasp and grips my hips painfully as he grinds deeply into me.

I can feel him throbbing inside of me; I know he's close to an orgasm, but for some reason he's holding back, his pace slowing down to a steady rhythm. I run my hands down his back, clutching at his arse.

"Please..." I say softly. "I – Severus... please." I watch his jaw work as he grits his teeth in concentration – trying to keep the slow pace he's set. He thrusts into me, pauses, then slides out. I arch my back, angling my hips just so and he sucks in a gasping breath. His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips.

"Faster," I tell him as his cock slowly slides out of me. "Fast and hard – I want to feel you." He lifts his head, his dark eyes on mine; I don't know what he reads on my face – whatever it is, though, it causes an immediate – and welcomed – reaction. He pushes his cock into me, his hips slamming against me with the force of his thrust. I groan in pleasure.

My heels dig into the mattress as I arch up to meet him, our movements erratic and frenzied. As impossible as it sounds, I can feel another orgasm building. I bite his shoulder as his thrust become shallow and fast, only to turn deep once more.

"Severus!" I cry out as my next orgasm hits hard, feeling him push into me, his cock throbbing inside of me as he reaches his own. His body shakes with the force of his release, a harsh moan slipping from his lips as he collapses on top of me.

I don't know how long we lie there before he rolls off of me. The cold air attacks my flesh and I sit up, intending to grab a blanket.

"How long?" he asks, just as my fingers brush against the edge of a blanket.

I freeze – I know what he's asking, but answering his query would make it real. Would let him break me. I bite my lip, trying to think of a suitable reply that wouldn't reveal too much – though it's probably too late.

He sits up and grabs a hold of my hand. "How long?" he asks again, a bit more forcefully. I look down at our hands clasped together, my hair falling into my face; the words just won't come. He uses his other hand to tilt my head up by my chin, forcing me to look at him. "How long have you been in love with me?" he demands.

I shake my head. "Does it really matter?" I ask in a soft voice.

"Does it really matter? she asks..." he says with a hiss, swinging his legs off the mattress. "Does it really matter?..." He reaches down and picks up his discarded trousers from the flood. "Of course it matters!" he says harshly, thrusting first one leg and then the other into his trousers. He stands and roughly pulls them up his hips.

"Why?" I ask, my heart aching as I watch him.

He stills in the middle of picking up his discarded shirt, his body oddly bent as he glares at me. "Because I don't do love," he growls, straightening. "Besides, what do you know of love?"

"Not much," I say as he stalks over to the door. I want to say, don't leave me, but I've too much pride for that.

"Too bloody right," he snarls, pulling the door open. "Not much and neither do I." He stares at me for a moment. "I didn't ask for this," he states bluntly. And with that, he is gone. I sigh and reach for the blanket again, feeling far colder than I have for a while.

~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~

Author's Notes:

As sad as it makes me to say this, I think there's just one last chapter left to this little saga - I'm about 1/4 of the way through on writing it (and yes, I know it takes me a long time to write). Before you ask, no, I don't know if this will be a happily ever after story or not.

As always, thanks to SgathachaptainAine for the beta work - any and all errors you find in here are solely mine.