Breaking Point

Disclaimer: JKR owns the rights to anything you recognize in this fic. I wish I did, but alas! Life is like a box of Bertie Bott's. Sometimes you get chocolate fudge, sometimes you get earwax.

Credit: Credit goes to my wonderful beta, Tevildo, for cleaning up my horrible punctuation and grammar. Any errors that remain after he is done with a chapter, are solely my own. Feel free to pelt me with cauldron cakes for these.

AN: We're in the home stretch now, my dear readers, so please take care to keep your hands and heads inside the carriage at all times and have a pleasant ride. Lemon zestiness abound in this chapter.

The ceiling swam into focus above him. All he was aware of was the insistent pressure in his bladder. Fumbling along the walls and hissing at the ache in his joints, he eventually stumbled into a dark bathroom. His hands were clumsy as if his brain only had a vague recollection of how they were to be used, but somehow he managed without making too much of a mess.

The day before was a flurry of confusing memories, each vying for equal attention. Snatches of images raced across his mind – the large orange cat, the old scarf that had lined the basket, the woman... no – Hermione, he corrected himself, the excruciating pain of transformation – that was so vivid that Severus was violently sick in the sink.

He tried to ease the burning in his throat by drinking water from the tap. It was unbelievably cool and soothing as he gulped down great big swallows of it; stopping only when it made him feel ill again.

He half-fell onto the bed, not sure how he had made it back there. His head was spinning and the throbbing in his side had worsened. His breath came in shallow gasps, his chest restricted by tight bandages – it felt as though someone was rubbing shards of glass into his skin. Bright pinpricks of light faded into blackness as he fled from the burgeoning pain into unconsciousness.

***

Hermione woke to soft snoring near her ear. Crookshanks knew he wasn't allowed on her pillow. Sunlight was streaming in under the heavy curtains, the light crawling across the rug to hide under the bed. Thank God, it was Saturday and she could have a lie-in. She reached up to pet Crooks anyway – silly cat was probably just jealous of...

Her eyes snapped open as her fingers and mind made contact simultaneously. Her body tensed up when Severus groaned softly and tightened his arm around her waist, curling in closer to her back and resettling his face near her shoulder again.

Damn it! She'd done what she always did when she fell asleep in her chair reading – gone back to bed! It happened with such regularity that often she didn't even need to wake up fully to perform the task. She had not even noticed Severus there when she had settled down. His position was inadvertently pinning her hair, trapping her. His breathing was deep and steady against her bare neck; he was sleeping, not comatose. There would be no slipping away quietly and pretending that nothing had happened.

Shitshitshi-

Panic suddenly turned to lust when he shifted in his sleep; his fingers brushing against the underside of her breast where her dressing gown had come undone. The throbbing between her legs sprang to life as if that casual touch had closed a breaker, bringing everything into sharp focus.

She had to have him! Even if it was the last thing she did before he blasted her to oblivion for her impertinence and presumption. If he was going to be angry about them sleeping in the same bed, he might as well be angry about her hand on his cock when he woke up.

Acting before her nerve deserted her, she reached for her goal. She was rewarded with a low moan as she gently squeezed him towards arousal – his skin velvet-soft in her grip as he swelled. Gingerly rolling his balls between her fingers made his hips flex in apparent appreciation; she gasped when his fingers tickled up her ribs to cup the breast they had been resting against.

"Hmmm..." he intoned sleepily as he slowly thrust into her hand. She shivered, feeling the vibration of his voice against her skin rather than hearing it. Severus' fingertips were flitting idly over a hardened nipple when she felt his lips on her neck.

Then he froze.

She had had her eyes closed, drinking in all the sensations, trying to commit each to memory, certain that she wouldn't feel them again. She cringed, turning her head slowly to witness the horrified expression on Severus' face.

He sprang away from her as if scalded. "What the fu- AAAAAARRRGH!" he roared, clutching at his side.

This wasn't entirely what she had had in mind.

***

He had been having the most wonderfully erotic dream, or at least that's what he thought. Then, his brain had prompted him into a higher state of wakefulness, where he could take full advantage of whatever was waiting on the other side of sleep.

That delectable scent of flowers and woman had been everywhere when he woke. "Hmmm..." he murmured as he inhaled, making full use of the accommodating hand clasped around his cock while his fingers explored the body in front of him. Only one woman smelt like this.

Hermione.

His sudden withdrawal was a mistake – a sharp pain stabbed into his side. She scrambled upright at his reaction. It was almost comical the way she retracted and then gravitated towards him again a split second later, her fright turned to concern.

"Are you alright?"

"No, I am not bloody well 'alright'," he growled. For a moment his hand wavered between holding the pain in his side at bay and covering his raging hard-on. Considering the circumstances of a minute ago, and deciding that she had probably had ample opportunity to ogle him while he was unconscious anyway, he opted for the former. He struggled up against the headboard, leaning his head back against the wood and waiting for the spasm to pass.

"Are you in pain?" He answered with a roll of his eyes, not bothering to waste his breath. She sprang into action, rounding on her bedside table and rifling through numerous little phials residing there. He spotted a distinctive bottle off to one side – cloudy glass in a stylized skeleton shape.

"You gave me Skele-Gro for cracked ribs?" he asked, sarcasm thick on his voice. "That would explain my current..." He grunted as another sharp tingle ran over his chest. "discomfort. Skele-Gro is for replacing bones, Miss Granger, not healing them."

Her face flushed red. "It was the best I could do. I didn't know the healing charm."

"The Know-It-All doesn't know it all? Be still my beating heart!"

Her cheeks were now blotchy. "Well, sorry for trying to help, Professor," she shot back, annoyed. "Here." She pressed the small phial into his hand.

Uncorking it, he took a sniff at the contents. "Tut, tut, Miss Granger, you know I cannot take this potion on an empty stomach – it could cause extreme nausea and dizziness. It is a good thing I am lucid again, had I not been, you might have nursed me to death." He sneered at her, ignoring her dangerous glare.

***

Temporary insanity. That's what it had been. There was no other explanation for wanting to shag him senseless a mere thirty minutes ago. At least she had had a small victory when he couldn't feed himself, his hand trembling too much. Of course the mulish prat had blamed her "indiscriminate application of potions of which she did not have the foggiest understanding" for his weakness.

They glowered at each other over every spoonful of chicken broth she delivered to his mouth.

Ugh! To think she would've liked nothing better than to devour those lips with hungry kisses! Despite her mind's tirade, her body was still aching with need. Severus hadn't bothered covering himself up, he hadn't seemed to notice that he was naked on the bed of the woman he had hunted for months. She felt distinctly that this was yet another game – who would flinch first. She took up the gauntlet, stubbornly refusing to tie her dressing gown's cord, allowing the curves of her breasts and her navel to be framed by its trailing edges.

Neither of them looked away from the other's eyes – it was the unspoken rule.

"Would you please drink the pain-reliever now?" she inquired archly after she had cleared the bowls away.

"Miss Granger, what guarantee have I that you are not trying to poison me?" he replied smoothly, uncorking the bottle anyway while he spoke. His formal manner in these ridiculous circumstances grated on her nerves and the twinkle in his eye told her that he knew.

"Just. Drink. It," she grated, her patience hanging by a gossamer thread.

"No need to get testy, Miss Granger." He gulped down the dose. "I am being remarkably lenient considering your transgressions."

"My transgressions?" she spluttered in disbelief. "Let us talk about your behaviour, my dear Professor." The amused glitter in his eyes turned dangerous with a suddenness that startled her, but she pressed her advantage. "You stalked me for close to ten months and you dare question my actions?"

"Some," his eyes flashed, indicating that he would heartily agree with these people, "would say your reaction was disproportionate to the offence."

"You got exactly what you deserved."

She had folded her arms over her chest and jutted her chin out defiantly. 'The bloody self-righteous little bint!' he thought.

"You turned me into a rodent, Hermione!"

She began to puff up indignantly. "Technically, hares are not rode-"

"I DON'T CARE!" She was not going to turn this into a lecture on taxonomy! "You nearly got me killed!"

She shrank back from him for a fraction of a second before jumping up onto her knees to jab her finger into his chest. "Don't you pin that on me! You managed running off all on your own!"

"Which I would not have done had your stupid fleabag not attacked me!"

"Don't you insult my cat, you insufferable man!" They were nose to nose now. Her face had gone bright red in her rage. He could feel her breath on his face as she yelled at him, see her eyes spark golden fury, smell that intoxicating scent he found utterly irresistible. She was magnificent.

"And another thi-"

The rest of the sentence died on her lips as he kissed her soundly.

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