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Tissues and Teacups	By : dragoon811 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 6051 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the world, or the characters. Nor am I J.K. Rowling. As such, I am making no money from this story. If you think I am, you are sorely mistaken and I highly recommend revisiting primary school. Clearly, y

Chapter List
- 1-Tissues and Teacups
- 2-Chapter 2: Soup and Sarcasm
- 1
- 2
Author's Note: This is what happens when you wake in the middle of the night to find plot bunnies gnawing on your toes. I mean, honestly. Knock it off, I'm sick.

Chapter 1: Tissues & Teacups

Sliding her arm around his waist, she ran her hand over the downy hairs of his treasure trail, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade. Spooning against his back, she sighed softly in relief. His deep, steady breaths soothed her, now that he'd stopped coughing long enough to fall asleep.

Allergic to Pepper Up, Severus had spent the past few days ill, leaving trails of tissues from one room to another. He refused to use handkerchiefs when he had a cold, claiming it was unsanitary, cleansing charms or no. They were everywhere – tucked haphazardly into pockets, and dropped as his thin frame was wracked with coughs, or tossed with a scowl at a waste bin, bouncing off the rims to join their sodden compatriots on the hardwood floors.

She was sick to death of finding them scattered on the kitchen table, tucked into the side of 'his' armchair (it had been hers,and he had sneered at the colour and refusing to even try sitting in it, before one day simply claiming it as his seat and refusing to budge), and piled on the bedside table, covering his current book and reading glasses.

But he was sleeping now, she reminded herself. He snored lightly through the single, ever-elusive "unclogged nostril". The man was an absolute bear when ill, Hermione admitted to herself. He was lucky he was mostly impervious to colds, because by the third day she was usually tempted to smother him with a pillow.

The temperature in the house was too hot. Then it was too cold, and she hadn't bloody changed a thing. He couldn't sleep with just a sheet over him, complaining that he was sweating and overly-warm, but without it he snarled that he was "simply frigid".

He didn't want steaming showers, or bed rest. He snapped and growled between sniffles. He sulked about with his dressing gown loosely belted over his pajama bottoms, looking as fierce and foreboding as he could manage in slippers. Even attempting to cough up a lung, she found the exposed flesh of his lightly-furred chest attractive. No matter how much he sniped at her for "fussing".

He most certainly Did Not Want Soup. He went from deciding that he was too sick and it was too much work to prepare meals, so that he would just starve. He wouldn't even acquiesce to her ordering take-away (she did it anyway), and she had to nag him to eat. After bouts of claiming starvation was the only way to kill the cold, he would suddenly have the urge to prepare elaborate, healthy meals to "aid in his recovery". She found each one scrumptious, but he couldn't even taste them properly.

And he refused juices and broths, or any number of suggested Muggle remedies to circumvent his Pepper Up allergies to nip his cold in the bud.

He was, however, going through her favorite tea (a Christmas gift from Minerva) like mad, and she was tired of finding half-drunk cups of it scattered through the house. Hermione had even found one set on the stairs, just sitting there, forlorn and forgotten. She'd unearthed two from his desk earlier, buried under three research scrolls, each on different topics.

That was another thing he did. On days he was well, his researching was kept to the office/library, and the basement laboratory.

When he was sick, Severus stalked about, muttering to himself and prone to moments of inspiration. Hearing him curse under his breath as he fumbled for a scrape of parchment in his normally-pristine office or searched for the quill tucked behind his ear made her smile.

Even if he did thud up and down the stairs and traverse from room to room with a sloshing teacup, sniffling and tucking tissues absent-mindedly into his pocket, from where they fell, turning trails of tissues into thoroughfares.

But he wasn't coughing, she told herself sternly. She loved him, and was just going to have to keep forgiving him for the annoyances.

Hermione curled her knees up to the backs of his legs for warmth, and nuzzled his shoulder blade again as she petted the hair on his belly, pressing her lips against her favourite mole there. She would never tell him about it. It had been an odd shape to begin with, she was certain. But somewhere through the course of his life, it'd been bisected by a scar, and now looked absurdly like a lopsided smiley face.

Yes, definitely something to never tell Severus.

The man in question inhaled deeply. "Keep kissing me, and I am liable to take it as an invitation."

His voice was scratchy, and she ducked her head. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

"I was." The emphasis was heavy on the last word.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, love." The endearment came easier to him now than it had at first. Grasping the hand on his stomach, he lowered it the hard length in his bottoms. "I most certainly am not."

"You're sick," Hermione protested softly, even as she caressed him gently. They could never seem to get enough of each other, and the past few days he'd felt so horrid that she'd taken to pleasing herself quietly in the shower. "You should be resting."

"I've rested. I feel well enough for this," Severus replied, rolling to face her. The motion dislodged the tissues on his side of the bed, and they tumbled to the floor beside the partially-drunk tea. One wadded ball managed to land in the cup, quickly going soggy. He cleared his throat.

"Hermione," he said silkily, cupping the side of her face and kissing her gently. "My Hermione..."

"Yes, Severus?" she replied, feeling a little breathless at the gesture.

"Surely, physical activity, especially such a one that increases blood flow and encourage proper oxygen intake, can only facilitate the healing process," he murmured as his lips moved down to seek her neck.

"Severus... are you sure you're well enough for this?"

He mumbled something into the curve of her shoulder that sounded suspiciously vulgar, but then he began sucking on that spot, and she slid her arms around to his back, running her hands over the scars, tracing the one that made that mole her favorite, and exhaled in pleasure.

"Severus, really...I think... we should...wait until... you're better...ooh, no cheating!"

"Cheating?" He drew back, dark eyes glinting, all pale skin and wiry frame and he tossed his hair out of his face. "Cheating, Hermione? I don't cheat. I win."

"I know, but -"

"But nothing." He slid hand under her nightgown, pushing it up to expose a breast. "Don't be such a bossy chit. I appreciate the concern for my health, love, but it has been torment."

He thumbed her nipple and dipped his head to lave it as it pebbled in the cool air of their bedroom. "You are not stealthy, Hermione. I have heard you in the shower. I know you have missed me these past days, as I have wanted you. Let me fulfill your desires, sate what your own hand cannot bring you..."

She whimpered. It wasn't fair of him to use her name in that voice. Even rough from sickness, it still melted over her. He raised his head, giving her a lustful, penetrating look, as if he could pierce her soul with those glittering black eyes. She was so close to giving in to him...

"I have missed you, love. Can you not tell?" He clipped each syllable, brushing his hips against her. He was achingly hard inside the soft cotton. Oh, yes. She could definitely tell. There was no mistaking that reaction from him.

Lowering his head back to her breast, he sucked at her, flicking the tip with his tongue. Puffing out breaths between his ministrations, he slid his hand down to her knickers to press against her, so close but so far from where she suddenly very much wanted him. "Tell me yes, Hermione... trust me to know my own limitations... let me pleasure you, let me fill you..."

"Oh, yes," Hermione moaned out. "Severus, please..."

He groaned and nuzzled her other breast, pressing a kiss to her softness, and sat up suddenly, tugging at her dress.

"Off," he demanded, rising to divest himself of his pajama bottoms. He only wore the damn things when ill because he couldn't be bothered to dress properly, and much preferred to sleep nude so that he would have easy access to his wife.

Hermione pulled her nightdress over her head and tossed it aside. She reached for her knickers, but Severus was already on the bed again, large hand on her hip, tugging at the material. They both tried to shift, to peel them off, and he growled in frustration, settling for snapping the elastic and ripping them off her. She protested the destruction of perfectly functional clothing, but he covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply.

She'd be lying if she didn't admit thathad turned her on. He'd never torn her clothes off, not even just her knickers, and she felt so wanton, so desired...

"Severus," she moaned as he moved to her neck again.

Running her hands down his chest, he pressed her against the bed, and she pinched his nipples, just to hear him groan, deep and sexy in her ear. "Oh, yes, Hermione..."

She knew just what he liked, and she reveled in her power to make him groan again, sliding her hands down to grasp his arse, grinding her hips against his cock. He thrust forward inelegantly, and bit at her breast playfully.

"Don't rush, love," he whispered hoarsely. "We have all the time we need... and I want to make you scream."

Whimpering, she jerked her hips against him with each teasing twist of her nipples, accompanied by tugs of crooked teeth and wet tongue. "Oh, Severus..."

"Mmm, Hermione," he planted a kiss between her breasts, inching a hand lower, between her thighs. "Open for me, love, let me touch you... caress you..."

Eagerly complying, she moved her knees apart and moved her hands to his head. His hair was greasy from refusing to shower, but she didn't care. All she cared about was touching him as he sucked her breasts and dipped a finger into her.

"Oh, so wet..." A second finger joined the first, slipping inside her to rub at that special spot. "So tight, Hermione...but I can make you tighter, can't I?"

He'd always reveled in the prowess of his long, dextrous fingers, and he put them to good use now. Moving back up to her clit, he began to draw those gently, tiny circles that spread the fire in her. He loved watching her eyes fall shut, and avidly watched the flush spread from her breasts to her cheeks. His breathing quickened as she started to gasp, twisting her fingers in the strands of his hair.

"Oh," she breathed out. It felt like fire, every time. It built in her, gathering there, and she wanted could hear her pulse in her ears, all of her being focused at the place he was rubbing. "Sev-sev-sev-sev-Severuuuus – in! In! Oh, please, love, in me, oh please..."

He groaned and tore his fingers from her clit and moved between her thighs, guiding his cock into place. He loved reducing to her to his name and single syllables. That she loved him and wanted him and desired him was an aphrodisiac to him.

"So tight," he moaned as his chest constricted. She was so close to coming, her body gripping him tightly. "So wet, my love, so perfect...so good..."

Leaning forward, he laced his fingers with hers and pinned her hands and either side of her head. Dropping a kiss to her lips, he situated himself a little deeper and began to move. So good. So tight. So wet. And mine, all mine, always mine...

"Severus," she whimpered. He felt so good, so thick in her as he began to thrust, angling his hips to hit the spot he knew would turn her into a quivering, gasping mess. She could feel his wedding band digging into her fingers, but she didn't care, couldn't care, and clung to his hands as she moved under him.

"Hermione," he groaned in return. She always closed her eyes – he knew she couldn't keep them open, and yet he couldn't close his. He wanted to watch her, watch her face flame, watch her lips form the syllables of his name. She felt so good under him, he wanted to come, but wanted to bring her first, have her arch under him...

As if sensing his thoughts, Hermione cried his name and shook, wet and pulsing around him and he moved faster, harder. So good, so good, oh, yes, my Hermione, my love...

Oh, it felt amazing. He was thick and hard and she could feel him hitting that place, and then she was throbbing, arching underneath him, tightening her hold on his hands until her knuckles turned white, and her toes curled as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Oh, Severus!" she cried as he doubled his efforts, pounding into her quick and hard through her orgasm.

His chest was burning and constricted, his air wheezing through his lungs. But she was so wet, so tight, so perfect, and all his... Almost there...so close...oh, yes, oh, yes, oh...

"Hermione!" he groaned, eyes wide, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed, and he thrust again helpless and he throbbed, coming in long, satisfying spurts deep inside his wife.

Panting, he collapsed on top of her, trembling with the exertion even as he wrapped her in his arms. Alarmed, Hermione stroked his back soothingly. Severus coughed, a painful, scraping sound, and his heart was pounding at a frightening pace.

It was some time before his racing heart calmed and his breathing went from wheezing to ragged to smooth.

"Worth it," he rasped, and lifted his head to regard her with a smug smirk. She slapped his shoulder blade lightly.

Severus rolled onto his back, gathering her to his side, and she rested her head on his chest gratefully, combing her fingers through the hair there. He coughed again, harshly.

"Sorry," he muttered sourly once the fit had subsided. He reached for a tissue, dabbing at his nose before crumpling it and letting it drop into the teacup on the floor. She frowned at his actions, but didn't have the energy to protest.

"Hermione." His voice was scratchy again. Worth it, yes, but they really shouldn't have indulged. She just couldn't resist him.

"Mmm?"

"What the fuck is this about a – a 'smiley face mole' on my back?"

"Severus! You cheater! You used Legilimency on me again!" Even horrified at his under-handed tactics to see if she'd been wavering in her stance, she couldn't help the giggles that bubbled up inside her, and buried her face in his chest, laughing.

Hope you enjoyed!

Eventually, there will be a chapter 2!

Eventually.
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- 2
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Tissues and Teacups