Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to play with the characters.

A/N: As always, my undying gratitude to ladyinthecloak and Lariope, without whose beta skills Require Your Assistance would never be seen.

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Severus and Hermione made their way up the stairs without a word spoken between the two. It seemed everything had already been said, but neither knew where the other stood so both were lost in sleepy thought.

Severus wondered if he had spoken too soon or if he should have spoken at all. Lupin was right; he was a blight on humanity. Everyone he expressed care or affection for, or who cared for him, was doomed to tragedy. Just looking at Albus...had he not thought of Severus' well being, he would not, at this very moment, be a werewolf; and dear, sweet Lily...had he not loved her, she would have lived. Yet, Hermione was sunlight; her mind, body, and soul had captivated him. He felt if he pushed her away, he would die himself.

Hermione stole a secretive glance at Severus. What was he thinking? He looked so fierce! All she wanted to do at this moment was drop off into blissful oblivion, wrapped in his arms. He loves me, he loves me. This silly little chant carried her up the stairs to her childhood bedroom as if she floated on air. So enraptured she was, she did not realize they had reached the doorway until their steps had drawn to a halt. Glancing up into his obsidian eyes, she wished once again that she had mastered the skill of Legilimency.

"Hermione..."

"Severus..."

Once again, they had both spoken at the same time.

"Severus, I believe it is my turn to go first," Hermione began again, "if you do not mind?"

"Of course, please, continue," Severus demurred.

Hermione nodded in acknowledgment. Now that she had his permission to speak, her courage seemed to fail. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the rejection to come.

"We have both been up all night, and the settee is rather short for your frame. Why don't you stay in here?" the young witch rattled out before her courage could fail her.

At Hermione's invitation Severus could not prevent his eyebrows from raising in surprise. Has she really just invited me to share her bed? he thought in wonder. There has to be some mistake.

Watching the flashes of thought cross the silent man's face, Hermione berated herself for her stupidity. Silly girl, of course he is not going to want to stay in your room, really. He has barely admitted his feelings. Must you always rush into things head long like a hippogriff on the loose? The longer Severus remained silent, the more apprehensive she became.

"Miss Gr... Hermione," Severus corrected himself. "Are you sure of what you ask? If I step through this door with you, I fear I will not be able to contain myself to merely holding you in your sleep."

Hermione blushed furiously at his pronouncement. All the fatigue of the night's labors, worries and stress vanished under the penetrating gaze he leveled upon her face. She knew this would be the defining moment of the future. If she told him now to go, he would, but what would happen in the future? Would such a decision ruin whatever chance she had to make a life with this man? If she asked him to stay, would he be disappointed? The last time they had loved one another, it had happened because they were both sleeping and dreaming. To think of making love with him from start to finish was a daunting thought.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione decided to let the future take care of itself. She was pleased to see her hand did not shake, though her heart raced as she reached out and took Severus' hand in her own, leading him into the bedroom of her childhood. With a flick of her wand, she Transfigured the single bed into one more appropriate for two. Next, she banished the frilly bedclothes of girlhood to those more befitting a young woman. The soft mauve duvet was plain, but elegant in its simplicity.

Severus watched silently as she changed the room to suit her purpose. His hooded eyes never left her form as she set about her task. He felt his desire for her burn through his veins.

At last, she turned to face him with a bundle of clothing in her hands. "I am going to go freshen up in the downstairs bathroom." With these words, she was gone from the room, and Severus was startled out of his reverie. He would do well to attend to certain matters himself. As Hermione had stated her intent to go downstairs, Severus decided to use the master bath off of Dumbledore's room.

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As Hermione stood under the spray of the showerhead with water turned as hot as her skin could tolerate, she pondered the ramifications of her actions and what she had set in motion. I just invited Severus Snape into my bed. What must he be thinking? Uncertainty pulsed through her veins as the water spray beat upon her skin. She had little experience as a lover; in fact, the only other experience she had was Ron's fumbling attempts the night after the final battle. They had both had too much to drink, and all she remembered was the pain of losing her maidenhead. The morning she had shared with Severus eclipsed any memory of pleasure she may have experienced during that drunken mistake.

Shaking her head as she toweled off and rubbed her skin with lotion, she chastised herself, Where is all that Gryffindor courage? This is the man you love. Get back there before he thinks you have taken off for the hills.

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Having used the loo and prepared to retire for the evening, Severus had returned to the Transfigured bedroom to find it empty. Severus was indeed beginning to think that Hermione had had a change of heart. Why would she want to share a bed with you? All you are is her bat of a teacher. Having convinced himself that Hermione had taken off for parts unknown, he was just opening the door to return to the cramped confines of the sitting room settee when she came through the door.

His heart stilled when he saw her standing in the doorway. She had not left, as he had feared, but stood before him a vision of loveliness, her breath coming out in shallow puffs, as though she had run up the stairs. And her cheeks heightened with color. Her hair was still damp from bathing, and her skin smelled of sandalwood and vanilla... a most intoxicating aroma. She was clad in a night dress that barely reached her knees, and though it was opaque, it's shimmering flesh toned color made it appear as though she was wrapped in a Cloaking spell rather than clothing. He had never seen anything more lovely in his life.

Slowly, gently, as though he feared he might startle her or the vision before his eyes might vanish, he raised his hand to her cheek and, with his long, elegant fingers, brushed the hair behind her ear. At the touch of flesh to flesh, they both gasped as if shocked by electricity. His touch was all it took to draw Hermione into the room. His fingers continued their path down her hair, caressing her shoulders and back through the silky film covering her flesh.

When Hermione opened the door to find Severus on the other side, she had been transfixed by the enormity of what she was doing and could only look upon him with doe colored eyes. This was the man she had feared for most of her schooling. The same man she had worked with, trying to find a cure for lycanthropy. But, he was more than just a Potions master, more than a professor, more than a spy; he was the man she had come to love. This thought, more than anything else, propelled her into the room and into his arms as he caressed her shoulders through her nightdress. With a shuddering sigh, she raised her arms, wrapping them about his neck, pressing her body into his as his arms came about her waist, holding her tight to his form.

With gentle touches and soft sighs, they explored one another. Now, that the moment was here and the sun had begun to glimmer through the gossamer window coverings, it was as if they had all night. It was a different kind of passion fueling their interactions. Instead of the flash and fire one often reads of, it was the steady heat of a candle flame...the longer one held a hand over it the warmer it gradually grew.

Severus' tongue gently brushed along her lower lip, seeking entry. On a soft sigh, she opened to his entreaty. As their tongues gently danced, blending the taste of toothpaste, hers mint and his cinnamon, Hermione's hands sought purchase in the hair at the nape of his neck, gently tugging, without eliciting pain, yet inciting passion. Soon, he was backing his way to the bed...the bed she had Transfigured for this night from frilly girlhood to the elegance of the woman he held in his arms.

As they lay upon the duvet, their legs intertwining like the vines of the Whomping Willow, their hands sought and explored one another, their lips parting only to draw a ragged breath before joining once again. As Severus' fingers brushed her already hardened nipples through the sheer material of her nightie, Hermione felt the jolt of electricity all through her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled so she was on top, straddling his hips, and she could feel his hardness through the black silk lounging pants he wore.

At the contact of Hermione's warm moist center settling above him, Severus instinctively rolled his hips to increase the pressure, causing them both to moan in pleasure. Without losing the contact of their lower bodies, Hermione kissed her way down the side of his face and neck leaving a warm moist trail that cooled, leaving gooseflesh in her wake as she moved further down his body to his chest. Hermione's lips gently caressed and then settled around the flat disc of one of his nipples. Her tongue lightly stroked it, and she gently grazed it with her teeth. Then she moved to pay homage to the other sensitive disc on his chest.

This had Severus increasing the rhythm of his hips and growling from the back of his throat. His eyes were black and unfocused as he stared up, lost in sensation after sensation as Hermione continue the sweet torment of his body. The blood pounded through his veins, yet he was at her mercy, unable to move except for the grinding of his hips against her center as his chest heaved in an attempt to draw oxygen into his body. He was in heaven, and he was in hell as he felt her hair brush against his chest and her tongue dart into his navel just above the waist band of his pants, which elicited another moan from his tortured soul.

Then her fingers were gently caressing him through the silk of his pants. This had him sitting up trying to pull her to the side as he attempted to rid himself of the now offensive clothing. Hermione was insistent as she brushed his hands away and divested him herself. Without hesitation, she gently but firmly encircled him with her small hand, her fingers barely meeting, and she began to stoke his hardness. The torturous growl that he emitted had Hermione purring as she closed her lips over his tip, which was gently weeping. He tasted slightly bitter but not unpleasant, like that first sip of the first cup of coffee in the morning. Hermione could feel her own release building and knew Severus, too, was close. She reveled in the power she held over this tightly contained man. Gently taking him in hand, she guided his length to where she most desired. She had settled no more than half way down his length when she felt her muscles begin to clench in her ultimate release. Sitting up, she took him all the way into her warm depths and began to ride him through her climax. Just as she felt herself cresting the top, Severus stiffened below her, almost bending in two as he shattered within her.

Seeing Hermione raised above him had been Severus' undoing: Her body still covered in the sensual flesh-colored silk, her arms raised, holding up the cascade of her riotous curls, had sent him over the edge. She looked to him, at that moment, like a goddess lost in her own pleasure.

Spent, Hermione collapsed upon his chest. Both were too satiated to do any more than pull the duvet over the top of their cooling bodies before they drifted off into sleep.