Part Two, Day One

Add usual disclaimer here.

Thanks to my beta Dacian Goddess for her invaluable help.

"Mum, can I speak with you?" Hermione asked warily after lunch. Her father got the unspoken message and made himself scarce into the garage where he always had some on-going do-it-yourself project.

"What is it, Hermione?" Josephine Granger asked once her husband had left them alone in the kitchen. She had noticed her daughter had been distracted this morning; she had had to repeat nearly everything she had said to her, and Hermione had even dressed the carrots with washing-up liquid instead of oil when they'd been making lunch. Surely not even the upcoming first year anniversary of What-Was-His-Name-Already's defeat...what could you expect from someone who chose a French name?...could put her in such a state?

Hermione, seated across the table from her mother, bit her lower lip and wrung her hands above the smooth chipboard surface. "I told you I've broken up with Ron because he was too jealous and pestered me to give up my position as Severus's personal aide?" She had been on a first name basis with her boss since last year, at his insistence. He wanted her to feel at ease, to feel like a part of the staff, and everyone was used to it by now.

"Yes..." Apparently, there was more to that breaking-off than Hermione had said.

"Well, there was that... among other things." A short silence followed, then Hermione bravely resumed. "I did not feel my place was at Ron's side anymore. I mean, he's intelligent and clever and thoughtful...most of the time...but he's interested in being intelligent and clever only when it can be described as 'fun'. When I try to tell him about things I've read and that interest me, he doesn't really listen, or he picks the bit that could be used to create something saleable for the shop." Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. "I couldn't seriously discuss anything academic with him!"

Josephine's attentive and non-judgemental face encouraged Hermione to go on.

"He has yet to learn any manners. Why couldn't he understand that I'm not in the mood for sex every damn Sunday?" She omitted that her growing attraction to Severus did not help at all to put her in the mood for a romp with Ron.

"But he's still very young," Josephine observed. "He'll improve with time. Your father wasn't very far from that description when he was that age."

Hermione cast her eyes down. "What if I don't want to wait for him to be a man?"

Ah, that was the matter. There was another man in the wings. An older man.

"Who is he?"

Hermione started at her mother's blunt question. "Who?"

"The Prime Minister. No, the other man, the one who occupies your thoughts."

"Severus." Hermione's voice was but a whisper. She looked out of the window at the neatly arranged garden. "Severus Snape occupies my thoughts, and I think the feeling is mutual."

"How so?"

"He... he watches me all the time, and his expression is one I've seen on Ron's face when we were about to make love. He touches me... brushes my arms... removes hair from my face... things like that. He always listens to me, and I always want to listen to him."

Oh, dear. "It sounds pretty serious."

"It is! Even the teachers have started to notice. The other day, Minerva caught him staring at me. He told me she waited until I retired for the night before she came to see him and lecture him like a naughty child, reproaching him for being the reason why Ron and I broke off. As if I would have let anyone interfere in our relationship! She got on her high horse and couldn't climb down! She even prevented him from taking his potion when the muscles at the back of his neck started to spasm."

"How do you know all of this if you had retired?" Josephine inquired.

Hermione blushed and averted her eyes. "I heard her coming to his rooms and I eavesdropped."

"Hermione! I didn't raise you like that!"

"No, but Ron and Harry did. He refused to answer her, you know. He didn't deny what she was saying, and that got me thinking. Would it be so bad to take the next step?"

"You mean, as in starting a relationship?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't we? We're both of age and unattached; we quarrel from time to time, but no more than I did with Ron and Harry; he knows so many things... He told me he has hardly taught me half of his knowledge," she finished dreamily.

"Why did you seek my advice, since it's obvious you've made your decision already?"

"I... I think I needed to say it all aloud. You aren't upset with me, are you?" Hermione asked with worry.

"Why would I?"

"Because I broke off with a charming young man and am envisaging pursuing a relationship with a man barely younger than you?"

Josephine smiled. "Hermione, you're of age, and everything you've been through has added years to you, psychologically speaking. You're older than your official nineteen years old. And he seemed like a nice enough man, though you should invite him to come visit with you soon."

Hermione was so relieved! She stood up and walked around the table to embrace her mother. "Thank you, Mum. You don't know how much it means to me."

"I have an idea. And, Hermione, don't forget about contraception."

While Hermione was putting any lingering doubts to rest, Severus was actively avoiding human contact. Admittedly, the muscle incidents had become infrequent, now happening only two to three times a week...which, he had been told, would be the state of things until his death...but he was not going to tempt fate by leaving his quarters alone. He tried to read, but only managed to distract himself for one hour or two. He hated Sundays. He hated them because Hermione was not with him on those days. He sighed and resumed his pacing, glancing through his windows every three seconds to watch for her return. It was only three p.m.

He had to admit it: he wanted her, body, soul and mind. And heart. And everything. What was more, she showed no sign of being averse to the idea. Her cheeks reddened at the drop of a hat each time she noticed him staring at her. Her breathing shortened whenever he touched her. Her eyes darkened and her pupils widened when he pronounced her name in a certain way: the way he would say her name in the bedroom while making love. The imagery his thoughts conjured was too much for Severus. His cock swelled rapidly while he imagined one thousand and one ways to take Hermione. He strode to his bedroom and shed his clothes hastily. Having nothing better to do, he decided to take pleasure in thinking of Hermione and to make it last as long as he could prolong it.

He trod on the plush carpet slowly, enjoying the feeling of the hand-woven wool on the soles of his feet, while the still fresh May air slid along his skin. When he reached his bed, he lay down slowly and stretched upon the satin bedspread, letting the material caress his body. He moaned loudly. He imagined Hermione riding him on his bed, taking her pleasure with his sex while his back would savour the softness of the satin. He nearly lost it here and there. "Careful. We wouldn't want this to be over before it has begun."

Severus reined in his imagination and started to touch his face with his fingertips: the arch of his eyebrow, his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, his lips. His tongue came out and teased his middle finger, which was soon sucked greedily by lips and teeth. In the meantime, his other hand was heading south, slowly, in the same manner he had touched his face. He skimmed over his neck, his chest and his nipples. There, a little pinch. "Fuck!"

However, another part of his anatomy was claiming his attention. He anticipated the pleasure of touching the smooth and firm skin of his cock. His eyes closed, he pictured Hermione's hands on his belly, on his rod, on his balls. He arched his back with bliss. "Hermione !" The cry had escaped his mouth. It was incredible, the way he wanted her. He fantasised about her mouth leaving a wet trail on his neck, about her tongue battling with his, about her sex open for his greedy eyes. He imagined himself touching her breasts, shaping them with his hands like tailor-made underwear, plunging his fingers in her most secret places, penetrating her slowly and making her cry out with pleasure until her voice was gone. Paradise could not be better than being sheathed into Hermione up to the hilt, to move inside of her, to explore every inch of her cunt. He wanted to learn her body and be able to sculpt it blindly...the inside as well as the outside.

His left fist, which was stroking his erection, sped up its movements, while his right hand crushed his testicles. He moaned very loudly. "Yes... shit... Hermione..." His back left the mattress; only his head and feet were still in contact with the bedspread. His sperm gushed out onto his belly.

It took him time to recover from his powerful climax. He was still panting when he cleaned his sex with a handkerchief. "The best orgasm of my life and Hermione is not even here! This will not do. She will be mine before the First Anniversary of Potter's victory."

Later in the evening, Hermione entered Severus's quarters without knocking, as had become her habit, but the familiarity was very understandable; her own quarters were more like a hostel room where she only went to sleep, while her awake time was spent in the Headmaster's office or in his quarters.

"Severus, I'm back!" she called to him brightly.

He was sitting in an armchair pulled near the windows and reading, of all books, Hogwarts, a History. He raised his eyes and gave her a small smile. "Good evening, Hermione. How was your day?"

She dragged another armchair near his and plopped down into it. "Great. I... spoke with my mother." Her brown eyes were upon him, very intense, full of a meaning he could not decipher, and yet he felt he ought to understand. "She was very helpful." She leaned forward and, briefly, squeezed his hand. Then, she resumed her position against the back of the armchair and asked, "So, you like to read Hogwarts, a History?"

Severus put the book down on his thighs. "I've always found this book enlightening, though I wish there were more on the end of Gryffindor and Slytherin's friendship. The official version has always seemed fishy to me. The wizards' persecution by Muggles only began centuries after their time. I don't see why Slytherin should have been wary of Muggle-borns back then. It's not that he did not want them because he considered them a threat, but because he did not consider them nobility. It was more a form of elitism, and it was turned into racism later." It was his turn to give her an intense, meaningful look. "It's not like that anymore."

Hermione was sure he was not speaking of Salazar Slytherin anymore, and her breath caught in her throat. "No, it's not like that anymore."

Severus swore he would have conjured the courage to kiss her at that moment if his jaw had not gone slack. Hermione, who had seen this happen countless times, reacted instinctively and helped him take the Muscle-Controlling Potion. Severus was soon put to rights, but the moment was gone. They both went to bed frustrated that night, wondering if they would be given another opportunity to at least express their feelings to each other without feeling awkward about it.