Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unleashed - Book 1	By : loola Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 5453 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Unleashed
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer for all chapters: None of it�s mine. It all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I didn�t make the hotel name up � it�s a real hotel in Sorrento. Only the plot is mine. AltaVista�s BabelFish Translator has provided the translations.
Author�s Note: I began to write this story before I had read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, so I have decided to continue this story in a fashion that is non-compliant with HBP. Therefore, the storyline of this book has no direct effect on the story. Thanks to Victoria FE for reminding me about the less pleasant side of Naples � I have been there myself, but had forgotten to include the less than savoury aspects of it in this story, which I have now added. Thanks also to Curls for pointing out some problems with Chapter One, which I hope I have now rectified. Many thanks. Enjoy and please review.

Hermione Granger dropped her suitcase at her feet tiredly and passed a hand over her eyes, pressing slightly to try to ease the headache that was already forming there. Gatwick Airport was heaving with eager holidaymakers � there were small children everywhere, giggling and screaming with laughter and fun.
Over the pounding of her head and the heavy beat of a song playing on the radio, Hermione heard her flight being called to board, so she slowly set off amongst the hordes of fraught mothers and middle aged businessmen carrying smart leather briefcases, who looked as harassed as she felt.
As she checked in her luggage, keeping a small bag with her as hand luggage, and entered the Departure Lounge to queue up to board, Hermione looked behind her briefly as a small child collided with her legs, startling her. The child�s mother smiled at her regretfully and issued a quick apology.
�It�s fine,� Hermione replied, smiling in return, trying to squash the unreasonable part of her that wanted to scream that it most certainly was not fine � she didn�t know what the hell she was doing, stuck in Gatwick Airport�s Departure Lounge, not knowing why she had to go to her destination. And why did she have to go during the first week of the summer holidays?
Hermione groaned slightly. There was no point being so negative about everything. Last New Year�s Eve she had promised herself that she would be more positive about life. She turned back to the woman, who rolled her eyes jokingly at Hermione as her daughter sat on the floor by her feet and started to slurp noisily from a carton of orange juice. The woman�s expression definitely said, �Peace at last!�
Hermione was just about to ask the woman where she was going on holiday when the words suddenly died on her lips, her expression changing to one of immense curiosity as she glanced over the woman�s shoulder and saw a familiar-looking figure all in black standing by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to the room as he presumably watched the aeroplanes on the Landing Area, which was overlooked by the Departure Lounge.
As the queue to board moved forward, Hermione darted out of the crowd of chattering people, murmuring an apology to the woman behind her, who was now trying to negotiate three children, a grumpy-looking husband and all their hand luggage forward. Hermione dodged around the crowds of people surrounding her, trying to catch another glimpse of the figure in black.
�Sorry�Sorry,� she muttered as she moved through the disgruntled holidaymakers, ignoring the annoyed glances that were thrown in her direction.
When she finally reached the window, however, the figure had completely disappeared. She spun around, searching for him in the constantly moving throng of people. He was nowhere to be seen. She had been so sure she had seen�
Hermione shook her head. She had clearly been mistaken. And why did she care so much anyway? Glancing behind her a few last times, Hermione rejoined the queue, unable to stop herself from throwing a quick glance over her shoulder to scan the room now and again.
***
Half an hour later, Hermione had safely stowed her bag away into the overhead lockers and collapsed tiredly into her cramped Economy Class seat. Unfortunately, Economy Class was all she could afford. Although she hadn�t planned this trip, she did, of course, still have to pay.
Lost in her own thoughts, Hermione barely noticed as someone sat down next to her. She sighed in undeniable exhaustion and closed her eyes momentarily, feeling fed up with the world and wanting nothing more to be back in her flat, curled up with a good book.
Behind her, she could hear a couple of newlyweds discussing all the things they were going to do on their honeymoon. Italy � what a perfect place to go on holiday. Hermione felt a flash of envy at the people around her who were going to Italy to enjoy themselves � all those gorgeous buildings to admire, the fantastic scenery, the opportunity to investigate Pompeii, Herculaneum, Mount Vesuvius�
Hermione snorted under her breath. Somehow she doubted that the couple behind her would do anything more than stay locked up in their room together for most of their holiday. It was what honeymooners did, she supposed. But if she were going on holiday with a lover, let alone a new husband, they would spend their time immersing themselves in the culture of the place. A small bubble of jealousy mounted within her, despite her thoughts.
�Why can�t I have someone to stay in bed all day with?� she thought despondently, unable to stop herself. But no, she didn�t even know why she was going to Italy to stay in a town called Sorrento near the city of Naples.
The previous night she had been at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, drinking her lonely way through a bottle of wine in her room when Dumbledore had suddenly appeared in her fireplace and told her to book herself onto the next available flight to Naples and pack for a short trip. He had assured her that he would tell her everything once she arrived.
And like the good little girl she was, she had sobered up, packed, called the airport, and now here she was; on yet another secret mission for the Order of the Phoenix. Not that she was complaining exactly. She was just so tired. She and Lupin had only arrived back at Grimmauld Place after a fruitless mission to Edinburgh a few days previously. The strain was starting to show on Hermione�s face � despite being only twenty-three years of age, deep frown lines were already beginning to emerge on her forehead, and there were permanent dark shadows under her chestnut eyes.
Moments later, she was shaken out of her thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice coming from her left.
�I must say, Miss Granger, you seem a lot less enamoured with the world than when I last saw you.�
Hermione�s head snapped round.
�Professor!�
�Evidently, Miss Granger.�
And looking back at her through a curtain of hair as black as night was Severus Snape, wearing, instead of his usual black wizard robes, a black suit with a loose black shirt underneath, the first few buttons of which were undone, revealing a few inches of pale chest.
�It was you! I knew it!� Hermione exclaimed loudly, quietening immediately when he raised one arched eyebrow at her. �You were standing by the windows in the Departure Lounge.�
�Indeed, Miss Granger,� he admitted, his voice as professional as ever, but sounding slightly bored.
They were both silent for a few moments as the airhostess indicated the emergency exits and talked through the procedure should there be an incident. Hermione only half listened, instead shooting the man beside her subtle glances as he read through the safety pack and reflecting on how odd it was to be in such a normal situation with such an extraordinary man. He looked little different from how she remembered him � she had left Hogwarts five years earlier, and had it not been for the extra lines he had gained around his eyes, mouth and forehead, he barely looked a day older than then. Of course, she had seen him since leaving school, which was inevitable as they were now both members of the Order of the Phoenix. He was invariably flitting about Grimmauld Place during school holidays and weekends (to the chagrin of both him and the other members of the Order), but she hadn�t spoken to him properly in at least a year. Everyone was too busy now to bother with small talk with those who were merely acquaintances. But of course, Severus Snape had never been a man to indulge in small talk anyway.
Hermione didn�t even want to think about that strange feeling of excitement mingled with desperation that she had felt when she saw him in the Departure Lounge � it was probably just that she was starved of intelligent human company and conversation for such long periods the moment that it was a relief to see another Order member � someone who understood what she was going through.
�Do you intend to gawp at me for the whole flight, Miss Granger? Because if you do kindly inform me now so I can change my seat,� Snape said abruptly, not bothering to look at her, and Hermione looked quickly away in embarrassment at being caught.
�No, sir,� she muttered, feeling for all her twenty-three years that she was back in that dank dungeon that had served as a Potions classroom, a nervous eleven year old once again.
�Good. Now, I am assuming that your overactive brain is still in full working order and you were about to ask me some inane question, Miss Granger, � Snape said, sneering at her. Hermione ignored the barely veiled insult.
�May I ask exactly why you are travelling to Italy, Professor?� she asked in as polite a tone as she could muster. He frowned at her and addressed her in a rather sharp tone.
�You mean Albus hasn�t told you?�
�Told me what?�
Snape muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like an extremely rude word. Hermione was only vaguely surprised � of course it was odd to hear one of your ex-teachers swear in front of you, but when the teacher in question was in fact a Death Eater, the situation wasn�t as shocking as it might have been.
�We are working together from now on, Miss Granger. Albus wants us to investigate a killing that happened on the Isle of Capri. He-� Snape broke off as he glanced around and realised there were many people around them who could easily hear their conversation, not least the airhostess who was telling them to fasten their seat belts.
�Muffliato,� he murmured, waving his hand discreetly. �Albus suspects that the killing may be the work of Death Eaters,� he told her, keeping his voice low and constantly looking around to make sure they weren�t being overheard.
Hermione just nodded, thinking over what he had told her, and wondering why Snape was being so civil to her. Thinking about it, Albus had probably bribed him somehow to behave this way.
�Unfortunately for us,� Snape continued, �Albus also wants us to pretend to be normal �holidaymakers�,� he spoke this word with immense disdain, �so we don�t arouse suspicion. He has booked us into a hotel in Sorrento, where we will be staying for however long it takes for us to find out what happened. Unfortunately for us, it also means that we are forced to travel by Muggle transport to Italy, so we don�t raise suspicion. Death Eaters in Italy could quite easily track us if we were to apparate or floo into the country.�
There was a pause as Hermione digested this information, and then;
�Professor?�
�Hmm?� he replied, looking slightly off-colour all of a sudden as the aeroplane began to accelerate along the runway.
�Why has Professor Dumbledore asked us to work together?�
As the plane finally took off from the ground with a slight jerk, Snape looked positively green and was clutching onto his armrests for dear life. Hermione had never seen her uptight professor act so normally. She did wonder, however, why he was apparently scared of flying when he was such a developed broom-flyer. She supposed it was probably to do with the fact that he didn�t trust Muggles and he wasn�t in control. He seemed like the sort of person who would be rather a control freak.
�Are you alright, Professor?� she asked gently, wondering whether to put a comforting hand on his arm. In the end she decided not to. Dumbledore had once told her that Snape didn�t like to be touched.
�I�m fine,� he snarled, glaring at her concerned expression and she was immediately glad she hadn�t reached out to touch him, as she had a sudden image of her hand being blown off with a mere flick of his wand. The plane was now flying smoothly, and Snape seemed to calm down slightly, although he still looked slightly ill.
�In answer to your question, Miss Granger,� he ground out, swallowing deeply. As he did so, Hermione couldn�t help but notice the attractive way his Adam�s apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed.
Attractive? What the hell are you thinking, Hermione?
But before Hermione could think on this too deeply, Snape was continuing, �Albus seems to feel that we will work well together. He has clearly forgotten the fact that I have never been known to work well with know-it-alls, especially know-it-alls who happen to be especially irritating ex-students. And now, if you don�t have any more of your thrilling questions for me, I have been subjected to an extremely trying week and I would appreciate the chance to sleep,� he said, sarcasm dripping in his voice.
And with that, Snape leant his head back against the uncomfortable headrest, closed his eyes and within minutes his breathing had evened out so much that Hermione decided he must be asleep.
She turned away and gazed unseeingly out of the window. He was exactly the same; just as enigmatic as he had always been. And yet there was something different about him that Hermione couldn�t quite put her finger on � he was still sarcastic, but his comments didn�t have the same sting that they used to. She could tell that some of the fight had gone out of him. It still hurt a little childish part of her though, to hear him refer to her as a know-it-all. Although she had grown up, it was hard not to remember the hell he had put her and her friends through at school � that insulting and hurtful name seemed to be synoptic of the whole situation.
Not wanting to ponder any more about things that she knew would upset her, Hermione curled her body up in her seat, closed her eyes and drifted off into a light sleep.
***
Next to her, Severus Snape casually opened one eye and glanced over at the woman sitting in the window seat. As he realized she was asleep, he opened the other eye and regarded her properly. It was weeks since he�d last seen her at Grimmauld Place � he had heard she had been on various missions around the country for Dumbledore, generally it seemed, with the purpose of spying on any suspected Death Eater activity.
When he had last seen her though, she had seemed happy enough with her life and the part she was playing in the Order of the Phoenix. But now, something within her had very definitely changed. She seemed so quiet and reflective compared to her usual know-it-all self. As he had been talking to her he had been tempted to use Legilimency to slip inside her mind and find out what exactly was wrong with her � all of a sudden, he found this young girl extremely intriguing.
�And her mind isn�t the only part of her you�d like to investigate further,� he thought traitorously, and for a brief moment he couldn�t keep his eyes off her body. That had certainly changed since her school days as well. Indeed, he couldn�t help but notice her slightly curvy figure; she was all hips and breasts and thighs and small waist. He had never been attracted to stick thin girls and he couldn�t help but admit to himself that Miss Granger had grown up to have a body that he would very much like to get his hands on.
His eyes darted away guiltily as she wriggled in her seat, slouching down further into her headrest as if she was trying to hide from the world. Severus couldn�t help but wonder what had happened to make her so disenchanted with life. He supposed it was simply the fact that it was tiring, repetitive and often boring to chase Death Eaters all over the country.
Sighing faintly and shifting in his hard chair � he was getting old � Severus put his head back and closed his eyes, intent on getting some rest as well.
***
Over two hours later they had finally arrived at their destination and were able to free their stiff and aching limbs from the confining rows of seats. As Hermione and Snape left the aeroplane together and walked into the overwhelmingly bright sunshine, Hermione stopped for a moment, simply enjoying being alive for the first time in longer than she cared to think about. She could hear people � normal people � all around her, chatting, hugging, kissing, and she could she the sky; a beautiful bright blue blanket over her, the clouds mere splodges of white.
Sensing that Snape was becoming impatient with her, Hermione started walking again, but stopped as she realized she didn�t have a clue where she was going. Turning back, she saw Snape standing where she had left him, a slight smirk on his face. He walked towards her and, taking her by the elbow, led her towards the exit of the airport.
�But what about our luggage?� she asked, trying to turn back, but his grip on her arm was too tight.
�Ah, so astute, Miss Granger,� he said, and she wasn�t sure if he was mocking her or not. �Our luggage is being sent to our hotel.� And with that he used his spare hand to reach inside his suit and draw out a pair of black sunglasses that he placed on his nose as they emerged into the bright light of Naples.
Hermione almost gaped at him and Snape had trouble hiding another smirk. As Hermione looked around herself at the Italian men in their black Armani suits and shades, dark hair flowing over their shoulders, she couldn�t help think that Snape fitted in rather well here. Except for his pale skin of course - all the men here had deep tans on muscled bodies that made Hermione feel rather hot despite herself.
But then again, maybe it was just the weather that made her feel that way. The natural heat of Italy hit her immediately � it was unlike anything that they ever experienced in England � a perfect dry heat, not that disgustingly sticky, sweaty, stormy heat they got back home. Hermione couldn�t help but wonder how Snape could stand to be all in black; she was boiling and she was wearing a white linen skirt and a pink t-shirt, but he seemed as cool and elusive as ever, not even breaking into a sweat as he steered her through the mass of people. Although she hated to admit it, Hermione was glad he was leading her like this. Despite the fact that it was Snape, she felt safer and more secure knowing that she wasn�t completely alone in a foreign country. And she had always liked the idea of the man taking over and looking after her � she knew it was old-fashioned, but there was something so alluring about the idea of a man dealing with all her problems for her.
Looking around, Hermione realised Snape had led her to the taxi rank, and was now walking her towards a black car with a man leant against it, holding a sign saying, �Mr and Mrs Blackthorn�.
�Professor, what are you doing?� she asked worriedly as they got closer. �That car�s not for us!�
�On the contrary, Miss Granger,� he whispered. �This car is most definitely for us.� And with that he released her elbow and muttered a quick spell. Hermione felt the tingle of magic wash over her left hand and looked down � a sparkling gold band had appeared on her ring finger. A moment later, she saw a flash of gold on his own finger before he walked confidently up to the taxi-driver, shook his hand and then held the cab door open for Hermione, gesturing for her to precede him in.
Hermione got into the car in a daze, barely noticing as Snape slid in beside her and the taxi-driver started up the engine.
�What are you doing?� she hissed angrily, feeling sorry for the real Mr and Mrs Blackthorn; they had clearly had their cab stolen. Snape merely raised a sardonic eyebrow at her.
�Nothing Miss Granger,� he whispered, before muttering, �Muffliato�. Then he leant very close to her.
�We are Mr and Mrs Blackthorn, Miss Granger. Albus insisted upon false names as a safety measure. We are booked into the hotel under that name, so start acting like a married woman rather than a tramp, Miss Granger.�
Hermione�s mouth fell open in outrage at the open insult, but she found herself unable to find the words to express her anger at him. She folded her arms in disgust and turned away from him, staring out of the window without really seeing anything. In turn, Snape sat next to her for the rest of the journey, likewise staring out of the window, a concerned frown etched across his features, somehow worlds apart from her despite their physical proximity.
As they travelled through the disgustingly filthy streets of Naples, Hermione felt as though claws were grasping at her throat. Everywhere she looked she saw poverty - every time the driver had to stop at traffic lights, beggars would approach the car, seemingly surrounding it from all sides, banging on the windows with piteous cries. Whilst Snape sat impassively next to her, looking straight through the poor people, Hermione felt the prick of tears in her eyes, especially when she saw a boy of little more than five sat on a pile of household rubbish and crying piteously. The smell of the city - of sweating flesh and rotting rubbish made its sneaky way into the cab and Hermione nearly gagged at the sheer strength of it in some places.
Before she could dwell to deeply on the lives of these people � poverty wasn�t something she had experienced to this degree before � the cab was leaving the city, winding its way through small streets and up into the hills. Hermione wound down her window gratefully and rested her head against the door, to tired to even think about anything any more.
***
�Hermione! For Merlin�s sake will you hurry up?� Snape hissed at her and Hermione could tell that he was only barely refraining himself from screaming at her in frustration. It wasn�t her fault that the road leading up to the hotel where they were staying (�La Pergola�) was cobbled and extremely steep and she was wearing sandals. It was rather hard to negotiate and he, of course, hadn�t helped her in the slightest, not even offering to carry her bag for her. The fact that he had called her �Hermione� for the first time that day barely registered with her.
When she finally reached the top of the incline, she found him sitting on a stone wall, scowling. Even though it was nearly nine o�clock at night, it was still very light, so Hermione could clearly see the annoyance written all over his face. As she reached him, he got up and stalked off again towards the bright lights of the hotel a few yards away, leaving her to trail in his wake yet again. She had the distinct impression that Snape still did not see her as his equal (or anything remotely near to an equal), despite the fact she had left school five years ago and they were both members of the Order.
Although he had been vile to her, Hermione was gratified that he had, at the very least, waited for her before entering the hotel � she had been worried that he would just walk off and be locked away in his room by the time she arrived at the hotel. Knowing his behaviour, she certainly wouldn�t have put it past him. Hermione wouldn�t have liked to have been forced to walk into a hotel where she didn�t know anybody and she didn�t speak their language.
She found him again in the foyer, talking quietly to an extremely tanned and attractive woman who looked like a stereotypical Italian woman� stick thin with long dark hair and ridiculously long eyelashes that she was batting at Snape. As he leaned closer to the woman, saying something that made her giggle, Hermione felt a strange twinge of something in her chest, but she shrugged it off, walking up to him instead. The idea of him flirting with a woman should rightly have made her feel sick to her stomach, but for some strange reason it didn�t in the slightest. Instead, she recognised a strange twisting feeling in her gut that she didn�t want to think about.
�Grazie signora, la vostra bont� notevolmente � apprezzata.� Snape spoke fluently to the woman who smiled at him through long eyelashes. Hermione found herself looking at him enquiringly once more as he led the way over to a staircase opposite them, a key in his hand.
�I didn�t know you could speak Italian,� she said in pleasantly surprised tones and his face went back to its usual scowl.
�There are many things you don�t know about me, Miss Granger,� he said enigmatically, frown lines still creasing his face.
�Don�t you mean Mrs Blackthorn?� Hermione quipped and she was again surprised to see that the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly.
�Indeed.�
When Snape stopped in front of a door on the third floor of the hotel, Hermione held her hand out, expecting him to hand her the key to her own room.
�Miss Granger, I would have thought that you would have realised that we shall have to share a room to keep up the pretence of husband and wife,� Snape said quietly, pushing past her and opening the door. Fuming, but not knowing what to say to him, Hermione followed Snape into the room.
It was a gorgeous room; a large double bed dominated it, and the furnishings were simple but attractive. There were huge floor-to-ceiling windows at one end which led out onto a balcony that overlooked the front of the hotel � as Hermione looked out she had a clear view of the pool beneath her and the outside bar area where a few couples were sitting drinking, their arms entwined around each other. The beauty of the room, however, was definitely tainted by the fact that she had to share it with Snape � of course she had shared rooms with other Order members such as Tonks and Lupin on missions before, but this was completely different. This was Snape.
Turning back to the room, Hermione noticed for the first time that their bags had been delivered and left on the floor by the bed. Snape was sat on the bed opening his case and pulling out various magical instruments, his wand in his hand.
�You�re almost as bad as Mad-Eye Moody, Professor,� Hermione said, startling Snape. He looked up at her without a trace of amusement as he removed a Pensieve from his suitcase. Without replying he got up and strode to the wardrobe, flicking his wrist so that all his clothes unfolded themselves and hung themselves up neatly. Then, without even bothering to ask, he released the lock on Hermione�s suitcase with a tap of his wand, and sent her clothes flying into the wardrobe next to his. Hermione decided it was infinitely disturbing to see her possessions lined up so neatly next to Snape�s.
�Come on, I managed to persuade that slut on reception to feed us now,� Snape said abruptly, already at the door. Hermione stared at him, vaguely shocked by his blatant use of foul language. She couldn�t get her head around how different this Snape was � it was almost as if he was a different person.
�Come on!� he barked, shaking her out of her thoughts, and she followed him at a slower pace down to the Dining Room.
***
They spent dinner in almost complete silence, Hermione concentrating on her plate the whole time and barely even looking up at Snape. He contemplated her silently, wondering what was going on in that over-active brain of hers. The waiters watched them interestedly, commenting quietly on what an odd couple they made. They suspected it was some sort of arranged marriage � the woman seemed positively terrified of her husband and could barely look at him. The age difference was another clue.
Once back up in their room after an awkward half hour in the Dining Room, Hermione got out her wand and was about to conjure another bed for Snape to sleep on (she was having the comfy bed if she was forced to share a room with him) when he suddenly grabbed her wrist in a grip that felt it might bruise her bones.
�No magic,� he snarled, looking at her as if she were an idiot. She wrenched her hand away from his grasp, surprising even herself that she had been able to release herself from him.
�But you did magic, I watched you put our clothes away!� she exclaimed, overwhelmed by the hypocrisy of his words. He was by far the most infuriating man she had ever met!
�Ah yes,� he said very softly. �But you were about to conjure another bed weren�t you?�
The way her eyes darted downwards towards the floor told him that his assumption had been correct.
�That�s the kind of magic that can be traced,� he continued. �Traced by Death Eaters. Traced by people who don�t find your presence as joyful as I do, Miss Granger. Traced by people who would be quite happy to see us in wooden boxes under the ground. If you see where I am going with this, Miss Granger? I think we need a rule: no magic on this �holiday�.� He spat out the word as if it had an unpleasant taste.
�Fine,� she snapped, too tired to even think about arguing with him anymore. �But I�m having the right-side of the bed.� And with that, she stalked off into the bathroom, picking up her pyjamas and wash bag as she went and slamming the door behind her.
Severus sighed tiredly. The way she behaved merely showed how immature she really was. There was no way this was just tiredness � he was exhausted and yet he was still capable of behaving like a reasonable human being. He wearily picked up his own nightclothes and began stripping off, leaving his clothes in a messy heap by the side of the bed. When he was dressed in his black pyjama bottoms and a plain white cotton t-shirt, he stuffed his wand under the pillow and climbed into bed � the left-hand side, despite the fact he normally slept on the right � and closed his eyes, unwilling to allow this infuriating day to continue any longer for him.
***
Hermione splashed water furiously onto her face. That man! In all her life she had never known someone who could wind her up in the same way that he did. Since leaving school she had forgotten how the man could drive one crazy, but now the memories were all coming flooding back. And it wasn�t just that he was annoying. He still knew exactly what to say to hurt her the most.
Know-it-all�
Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, Hermione pulled her pyjama shorts and t-shirt on and walked out of the bathroom, her head held high, expecting him to be waiting for her, a sneer on his face. But instead, she found him deeply asleep in bed, the lines on his face relaxed slightly in slumber. She was pleased to note that he was sleeping on the left side of the bed � that was one small victory for her, at least. Too tired to contemplate anything any longer, she switched the lights off in the room and crept into the bed, careful to stay as far away as possible from him. She was too sleepy to even feel any embarrassment over their situation, and within minutes, she too was fast asleep, the sounds of their breathing mingling in the otherwise silent room.

Rough translation:
�Grazie signora, la vostra bont� notevolmente � apprezzata� � Thank you Madam, your kindness is appreciated.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Unleashed - Book 1