Chapter 3

"Perhaps it is time to ask for more," she said softly.

He was silent, fingers stroking the binding of the small amber book, hypnotic in their rhythm, eyes still locked with hers. "Perhaps it is, Miss Granger, perhaps, it is."

Perhaps it is time to ask for more, Hermione thought, turning back to the paperwork on her desk. I can't get those words out of my mind... I thought they were meant for him, not me. She looked around at her small office, pleased at how welcoming she had made it feel. Soft lights lent a warm glow to the room and illuminated intricate, colourful tapestries on the walls and woven wool rugs on the floor. A plush couch with lots of pillows and several chairs created a conversation area and a desk piled with books stood in front of even more books lining the walls. I spend most of my time here. I want to be comfortable.

Hermione's days were filled with meetings, paperwork, and patients. Research into the causes and potential remedies for emotional pain filled every available moment. She loved her work, and was satisfied with her professional development. It's just my personal life that I can't get straight. Despite her small circle of friends, Hermione felt adrift. These days, the conversations I have with my clients are more personal and heartfelt than the ones I have with my friends or family... she gasped, ... except with Severus. My conversations with Severus are more personal than ones I have anywhere else....

A naturally private person, Hermione valued the close relationships that she had developed over time with Harry, Ginny and Ron as well as a few new friendships she had established during her training. But even with these dear friends, she often felt as if they missed seeing the essence of her. They appreciated her competence and depended on her logical and disciplined mind, but tended to tease her when she dared to show a more whimsical or sensitive side of herself. At least I can relax when I'm with Severus. It's funny that I trust him more with my thoughts than I do my old friends. And he doesn't want me to take over and think for him, either... He's as competent as I am. As a result, while Hermione could talk with her friends about almost anything, she rarely allowed herself to discuss her hopes or fears, or display the depth of feeling and yearning to understand that she experienced when truly touched by something meaningful.

They never understood why house-elf rights meant so much to me... even though I was a child, and went about trying to fix it like a child, they didn't get how much it hurt me to see their enslavement... they just... teased me. She shook her head, remembering. There is no way that I would tell any of them about what happens when I fall asleep. No. Way. And so, her relationships evolved, built on a strong foundation of trust and companionship; but with Harry and Ginny marrying and starting a family, and Ron seriously dating a witch who had moved to London after finishing Beauxbatons, they moved more and more in their own circles, involved in their own growing families and lives and Hermione focussing more and more on her vocation.

While Hermione's days were filled with work, her nights were another story entirely. Following the instructions of the Adfinitas Animarum had been stimulating and frustrating in turns. By unspoken agreement, neither Hermione nor Snape speculated aloud about the goals of the small book's directives. Each of them passionate and intense by nature, they attacked the chapters with vigour befitting bibliophiles and scholars. That the instructions often took them outside their comfort zones went unremarked, though complaints about the mess made while digging in moist earth to plant seeds, or the hazards of creating a delicate mosaic rang through the small cottage. Laughter usually followed the sniping, and to her surprise, Hermione gradually became comfortable giving as well as she got in these exchanges. I can be honest with Severus, playful, even. Hermione mused, I never would have expected that. I would have thought he'd tease me, too. He seems willing to let me just be... however I am.

Neither commented on the gradual warming between them, though Hermione, blushing fiercely, sometimes caught Severus looking at her with an unreadable expression before quickly turning away to busy himself with the task at hand. For her part, she found herself peeking at him from beneath half-closed lids, noting the fluid movements of his hands, the strong line of his jaw, the fire in his eyes when he was engaged or excited about something. At first, their growing awareness of each other both thrilled and worried Hermione. I think about him all day and can't wait to get here at night. And despite what I expected, he seems happy to see me, too... But am I drawn to him so strongly just because we are stuck with each other? What if he's happy to see me just because he's been alone all day? How can I tell if what I'm seeing and feeling is... real?

Sometimes, she was too preoccupied with the sound of his silky, baritone voice to listen to what he was saying. When he would catch her at this, he would tease her with surprising gentleness. "Woolgathering, Miss Granger?" and she would laugh, willing the colour to leave her cheeks, and refocus on the conversation. Other times, she thought he might touch her, each leaning in towards the other, eyes bright with laughter or soft with unspoken promise. But following such moments, he would always pull back, wrapping himself once again in silence or disdain. Maybe he doesn't want me... Maybe he is just making the best of this situation, and when we find a way out, he will just... go. Her stomach clenched at the thought.

As time passed, Hermione's nights inexorably became the focus of her day. Though she willed herself not to think of it, in the early hours of the morning after she woke, or at night as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn't help but admit the truth, if only to herself. I don't want this to end... I want him... I don't care anymore if it came about because of the spell and the book. But I'm so afraid that he is doing all of this only because he has no other choice.

And so her days and nights took on a rhythm, days filled with necessities, and nights filled with possibilities. Occasionally, during the day, she would look up and swear that she had seen the back of Severus' head, or the sweep of his robes around a corner. She would shake her head and laugh at herself for her foolishness. But when night fell, she retreated eagerly to her flat and crawled into bed, wishing for sleep to claim her and take her back to where she felt more and more like... herself.

**

"I won't! I don't care what the bloody book says." Hermione's face was flushed as she stood, arms folded across her chest.

"Miss Granger," Snape began, the sting in his voice reminiscent of classrooms lost, "we have spent weeks perusing the pages of this... rather unusual tome..." he paused significantly, "... at your behest, I might add." He raised his eyebrows and continued. "We have planted... flowers," he smirked, "we have built a model sailboat and..." he hesitated, a mild look of distaste on his face, "floated it." He took a breath and continued, "I... I have discussed poetry... poetry with you." He stood opposite her, arms folded, expression stern. "If the Adfinitas Animarum wants you to... sing, why do you object?"

Hermione turned and stalked to the window only to turn back around when she realised that she was staring at the aforementioned flowers. Stifling the urge to stomp her foot, she took a deep breath and threw herself onto the couch, hands covering her face.

"It's personal," she murmured into her hands.

"It's what, Miss Granger?" he asked softly.

Surprised by his gentle tone, she lifted her head and met his eyes. "Singing feels so personal. I haven't got a beautiful voice or anything, and I don't even listen to music all the time... but singing makes me feel things..." And makes me show how I feel... I can't let you see how I feel.

In the space of a second his face hardened, and he spun on his heel and stalked to the mantle, his back to her. "And I suppose that you dare not expose anything so... personal," he sneered, "to a loathsome creature, such as myself, is that it, Miss Granger?"

Surprised, she stood, reflexively reaching her arm out to him as she approached the fireplace. "No! Oh, no, that's not it at all..." she said, breathless. "Not everything is about you, you know...." she added sharply. He grunted, but did not turn towards her.

"When everybody needs you... for one thing or another... and you're supposed to be the one who knows what to do, people forget..." Her voice was small, her shoulders slumped.

The low rumble of his reply startled her, "What do they forget, Miss Granger?"

"They forget..." she said, voice tight, "that 'know-it-alls' need someone to lean on, too, someone that they can trust. Not someone across the room who won't even call them by their first name...

Even after all this time...

"Someone who is willing to get closer so that they won't be so scared to show who they really are, how they really feel... or to just... be...." She barely noticed the tears trickling down her cheeks.

When, finally, he turned towards her, the expression on his face reminded her of the night she had found him immersed in the book's song. Hopeful. He looks hopeful.... A surge of emotion, hope, terror, longing washed through her as he took a step nearer.

He cleared his throat. "Is this... close enough, Miss... Hermione?" The look on his face had shifted from hopeful to petrified.

He's as afraid as I am... The thought gave her pause, and courage.

She nodded. "Better..." her voice was shaky, "thank you." She hastily wiped the tears from her face. She was doing that quite a lot in recent months, she noted wryly.

Soft strains of music began issuing from the book lying abandoned on the couch. Hermione shivered. She walked slowly to the couch and picked up the book, touching the parchment reverently with eyes closed. A stream of amber light seeped from the pages and seemed to melt into Hermione's hands. After a moment, she took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm ready, Professor," she said softly.

His voice, resonant even in its hesitance, "Severus."

She looked up. He had followed her to the couch and was standing close enough to touch. "If I am to be less... far away... perhaps it is time to address one another with our given names." He looked skittish, as if she might reject the notion that his given name could grace her tongue.

Hermione nodded, speechless only for a moment. "Severus...." She smiled, enjoying the texture of his name on her lips for the first time. "Thank you, Severus."

Relief washed over his features, relaxing the furrow between his brows and the stiffness of his jaw. He gestured towards her. "Are you ready to begin?"

She nodded, anxious again. Holding herself stiffly, eyes closed in concentration, she began to sing.

Hermione was right; she did not have a beautiful voice. What she had not said, however, was that she had a soulful one. Severus stood, still as stone, transfixed with the sound of her voice and the shifting emotions on her face as she sang.

If it be your will

That I speak no more

And my voice be still

As it was before

I will speak no more

I shall abide until

I am spoken for

If it be your will

Her voice was soft, hesitant, as if surrendering all efforts to control...

If it be your will

If a voice be true

From this broken hill

I will sing to you

Gaining strength, her voice began to grow in power, hope creeping into its tones...

From this broken hill

All your praises they shall ring

If it be your will

To let me sing

Stronger now, body relaxed, Hermione's voice seemed to come not from her throat now, but from someplace deeper, her voice rich and brimming with joy and hope.

If it be your will

If there is a choice

Let the rivers fill

Let the hills rejoice

Let your mercy spill

On all these burning hearts in hell

If it be your will

To make us well

Her voice dropped, no less resonant, but more evocative, textured with the tears that had risen with the words...

And draw us near

And bind us tight

All your children here

In their rags of light

Voice rising in concert with the intensity of the music, Hermione turned her body towards Severus, eyes still closed...

In our rags of light

All dressed to kill

And end this night

If it be your will

As the last strains of the music faded, and shaking with the intensity of her song, Hermione opened her eyes to find Severus standing a breath away, tears lying unchecked upon his cheeks, the expression on his face so open that it made her heart ache for both of them.

Oh, God... please...

One small step forward brought them into one another's arms.

Trembling arms encircling one another, Hermione took in the feel of him, solid and real under her hands. She wordlessly tightened her hold and laid her head on his chest with a hum of contentment.

Please, let this never end....

Her body sang with her awareness of him as her hands languidly explored the breadth of his shoulders and planes of his back. One strong hand stroked the nape of her neck while the other held her to him, pressing gently into the small of her back. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest and knew that it mirrored her own.

They stood together, neither measuring time, immersed in the sensations of soft skin and rhythmic breaths. Holding him firmly to her, lest he think she wanted to disengage, Hermione lifted her head to look at him. Black eyes found hers, piercing her with their intensity. He was silent, gazing at her with a mixture of longing and fear. Slowly, she brought one hand around to rest on his chest, then his shoulder, and finally, to hesitantly touch his face. Tentative fingers mapped the sharp planes of his features. She stroked his brow, smoothing the wrinkles that had sprung up there at her touch. She trailed her fingers along his cheekbone to his jaw, tracing the strong line with her thumb. Shyly, holding his gaze, she brought her fingers to his lips, tracing their contour. I never realised what sensuous lips he has...

Before she could finish the thought, those lips were on hers. Hot and insistent, his mouth nipped at hers, tongue sweeping across her lips, burning them with its touch. She gasped. He broke away, startled, but before he could step back, Hermione leaned forward, peppering his face with kisses, landing, finally, on his kiss reddened lips. He groaned and she felt an answering heat in her belly. Deepening the kiss, she cupped his face in her hands; he buried his hands in her voluminous hair, caressing her scalp with strong, sure strokes.

Her body thrumming with arousal, Hermione leaned into Severus' touch. Lost to sensation, she was aware only of his lips, his tongue stroking hers, his hands running through her hair, and then to points lower. Her hands struggled with the buttons of his white shirt, seeking warm skin. The moment she found it, stroking his chest and dipping her head to taste his skin, he groaned, "Wait, Hermione...." Reluctantly, she lifted her head, the tang of his skin on her lips.

"Severus..." she whispered. "Severus." Her warm smile lit the room.

He gestured to the sofa, indicating that they should sit. Unwilling to break the contact, his hand on her back, hers clutching his arm, they settled themselves on the settee. Hermione slipped her arms around his chest, head tucked under his chin. Severus wrapped his arms around her as they sat, curled together, on the soft cushions. And so they sat in warm silence, breathing returning to normal, rapidly beating hearts still betraying nervous excitement. After a time, Hermione felt Severus shift in her arms, moving slightly away from her, beginning to absently stroke her arm. They gazed at one another, both still astonished, and neither willing to break the magical silence that stretched between them.

Finally, Severus lifted one hand to gently stroke her cheek, her brow, her lips... noting the glazed look in her heavily lidded eyes. "Hermione..." he said, voice deep and resonant. She hummed softly in response, eyes now closed. He smiled, dipped his head, and tried again, "Hermione?" She looked up at this, brow wrinkled. "It would be so easy," he continued, "to sit like this... holding each other... touching you...." He paused, breathing shaky. "I think... I think that this... turn of events... calls for some discussion."

She took a moment, struggling to steady her suddenly rapid breathing and slow the staccato beating of her heart. A nod, a small smile, a squaring of shoulders as she met his eyes. "Yes... we must figure out... what comes next...." She was hesitant as she met his eyes, suddenly afraid that he meant to withdraw from her again. The warmth in his eyes reassured her, as did the fact that he had yet to stop touching her. "The book," she turned her head to glance at the Adfinitas Animarum sitting innocently on the cushy chair by the fire, "it knows...."

He nodded. "It seems to draw out our vulnerabilities and deepest selves... and draw us to one another." He looked at her intently, as if to be sure that this did not disgust her. Reassured by her languid smile, he continued, "What I am not sure about is why?"

"Why?" she echoed. "If the Adfinitas Animarum is key to our understanding what happened here," she gestured to the two of them, "and to figuring out what to do next, then the book must be guiding us by what it chooses to show us."

"Are you suggesting that the book is sentient, Mi... Hermione?" Severus asked.

Hermione smiled at his slip. "It seems to be leading us into territory that neither one of us would have discovered on our own." She shrugged. "I'm not sure whether the book has awareness or that it tunes in to each of us and... highlights our... affinity." She shook her head. "I don't know... Healer Shalva said that the answers would emerge in ourselves and," she smiled, "between us."

Severus smirked. "We do appear to have discovered something unforeseen between... ourselves." He ducked his head, shielding his eyes. "And I am... astounded, and... thrilled..." he looked up to meet her eyes, "... and terrified."

Humbled by his openness, and feeling oddly safe, Hermione reached out to cup his cheek. I feel as if I have already laid my soul bare to him – when I sang. And he heard me, he heard. Our souls... lay bare. Oh!

"Severus." Her voice was hoarse from the tears that suddenly choked her. "I have never opened myself... my... soul to another like I have tonight. Never. I didn't intend to, but... I did." She stopped, unable to continue.

For a long moment he was silent, eyes unfathomable, burning as he looked at her.

And then he reached for her, gathering her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. "You did what I feared to do," he whispered, "what I have been longing to do for so long." His body shook with the intensity of emotion long suppressed. "Hermione," he murmured, "my Hermione."

She cried out, a combination of a laugh and a sob, and lifted herself to straddle his legs, hands on his shoulders, her face a breath away from his own. His strong arms encircled her, and she could almost hear the wild beating of his heart as she felt his ragged gasp, hot on her cheek.

"Severus," she paused, pressing her forehead to his and continuing in a whisper, "I never imagined...." She was flooded with feelings so intense that she could barely find the words. "It never occurred to me that I might... fall in love with you."

It was only the space of a few heartbeats, but to Hermione it felt like eternity. I said too much, I haven't even thought about this first... What was I thinking...? Heart hammering in her chest, she began to pull away, ashamed of her impulsiveness, of allowing the flood of emotion to dictate her actions. I should have known better...

But before she could do more than shift her body back from his, strong hands had drawn her close again, and his lips were brushing her neck, moving to the shell of her ear, murmuring, "Hermione, my brave Hermione... I wondered... I barely dared to hope..." he continued, voice rough. "For so long now, I've wanted... but I was afraid..." His voice barely a whisper. He turned to look into her eyes, and she saw his heart laid bare.

He thought I would push him away... that I wouldn't want him to love me. He's surprised that I want him, that I love him...

"I've been afraid, too, Severus," she said softly as she met his eyes.

Eyes burning with intensity, Severus cradled her head in his hands as he drew her close again. "I never imagined it could be real... not for me..." he paused, struggling to control his ragged breathing. "Until now, I didn't believe that I... that a woman like you could ever love me, want me. I am utterly... entranced by you... Hermione, my love... my love...."

A low moan escaped Hermione's throat as she succumbed to the power of his words and the sensation of his lips on the tender skin behind her ear. Oh, my God... oh, thank God... "Severus... oh, God, Severus... don't stop, please don't stop."

"I have no intention of stopping," he said, voice hoarse. "I intend to bind you to me, Hermione... as you have bound me to you."

She groaned again, seeking his mouth, sweeping her tongue across his lips, demanding entrance. He opened to her questing tongue, meeting it with his own. Stroking, seeking, tasting... they devoured each other, low moans and murmurs of appreciation the only sounds to accompany the crackling of the forgotten fire.

Slow kisses deepened, and Hermione felt as if she would never get close enough to him. She reached to his shirt buttons, hands shaking, trying to unbutton each without losing the warmth of his mouth. He chuckled and, thinking that he was reaching to help her divest himself of his shirt, found that he was far more interested in her own. With a flurry of movement, both swathes of fabric lay in pools of white on the ground. Hands roamed frantically over heated skin, lips tracing the contour of a collarbone, the dip at the hollow of a throat. Tongues tasted salty skin, eagerly discovering how to bring pleasure and the bliss of receiving these gifts from the other.

"Bed, we need... a bed," Severus gasped, both of them reclining on the far-too-narrow sofa.

Hermione looked up, a door taking shape near the hearth, and inclined her head. "Ask, and you shall receive." She smiled seductively, rising, arm outstretched to lead him to a bedroom that seemed designed for their purpose. While the cottage had provided a utilitarian sleeping chamber for Severus' use, this bedroom belonged not to a solitary man, but to a couple who had every intention of becoming immersed with one another.

Hermione's first impression when entering the room was of its textures. Dominating the room was a large, plush bed; velvet and silk bedding begged to be touched and discarded in favour of silky skin. A crackling fire and scattered candlelight threw soft shadows on walls and heavy, wood furniture. Nodding with approval, Severus moved smoothly towards the bed, gently pulling Hermione with him. Turning her to face him, he gazed at her reverently, eyes glinting with arousal. Slowly, he reached behind her, unhooking her bra and letting it slip to the floor. At her reflexive motion to cover herself, he shook his head. "You are so beautiful," he said, his usually silky voice rough with emotion.

Cupping her breasts in his hands, he dipped his head to taste first one nipple, then a second. Stroking with his tongue, he teased them to hard peaks, and then took each one in his mouth, a look of bliss on his face. "Bed, we were headed for a bed..." he murmured.

She laughed and climbed onto the lush bedding, wriggling until she was in the centre, on her knees, arms out to him. He was on the bed in a flash. "Where was I?" he murmured, finding a turgid nipple between his lips again, drawing a long moan from Hermione. Laying back against the pillows and burying her hands in his ebony hair, she held his head to her breasts, revelling in his pleasure in her body, thrilled at the sensations his mouth could produce in her. Soon, that mouth moved from her breasts, tracing their contours, tongue tasting the salt underneath them before moving to caress her belly.

"Severus," her voice deepened with arousal, "Severus, I want to touch you... please... let me touch you."

He paused, looking up the length of her body to her full breasts, tousled hair, and kiss-swollen lips. "Oh, yes... yes..." He smiled, the first unrestrained smile that she had ever seen lighting his face. Oh, he should smile more. I will spend my life ensuring that he smiles more.

He moved to lie beside her and reached for her trousers, unbuttoning them. Taking his lead, she did the same to his, both sliding the last of their clothing from their bodies.

Stripped of all layers between them, body and soul, Severus and Hermione reached for each other, wanting only to get closer, to touch more deeply, to be as immersed as it was possible to be. Her hands stroked his firm chest, his broad shoulders, his wiry back. He's slender, but so strong. I want...

"More," she growled, running her hands down his back, to his firm bum, stroking, drawing a groan of pleasure from him as she shifted closer, chest to chest, belly to belly – pressing against his obvious arousal.

He gasped as she wriggled against him. "You are ready for more?" he asked, breathless.

"I am... please..." she pleaded.

She felt his hands which had been stroking her bum shift to her thighs, and she opened to his ministrations. Gasping as he stroked her, she begged, "Severus... please...."

She felt more than saw him shift to lie above her, his mouth joining hers again for a soulful kiss. Both moaning as their tongues stroked one another in an increasingly frenzied rhythm, she felt him pressing against her, in her, moving rhythmically. She moved against him, matching his rhythm, the movement of her hips meeting his increasingly powerful thrusts.

"Hermione... my Hermione," he growled, his movements becoming erratic. Sliding his hand to rest between them, he stroked her with deft fingers, bringing her arousal to a fever pitch. "I am yours... oh, God, Hermione..." he cried out in surprise as he reached his peak.

The transcendent look on his face, coupled with the touch of his hand and thrust of his hard body brought Hermione over the edge. "Severus!" she called out, her body thrumming with pleasure. They continued to move together, prolonging their bliss, until both collapsed, finally spent.

Wrapped in each other's arms, limbs tangled together, breathing in one another's scent, they slept.

***

Waking alone in a cold bed after a night filled with emotional and sensual discovery was not Hermione's idea of an ideal morning after. Running her hands along her body, she discovered that, just as in the dreamscape, she was naked and, based on her cursory examination, had in fact been thoroughly ravished. And did some ravishing in return. She smiled dreamily to herself, and then sighed. Now what? I have a dream lover... literally? I don't want to spend my days without him... and I'm not about to spend my nights alone, either. We need to figure out what these latest... developments... imply about Severus, and what to do next. If the book leads the way, it is not a coincidence that it led us to each other's hearts.... Hermione nodded to herself. "Back to St Mungo's it is."

____________________

a/n: "If It Be Your Will" is the property of the magnificent Leonard Cohen. His songs are poetry. I thank him.

The HP universe belongs to J.K.R. No copyright infringement is intended.