Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Scattered	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 25013 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I don't make any money from this fiction.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Summer Heat

Hermione hid in her room almost the whole next day, avoiding the possibility of running into Snape, of facing the uncomfortable thoughts that being around him brought up. Instead, she went through her bag, putting clothes away in drawers, tossing bits of rubbish into the small waste bin near her bed, but leaving a good amount of survival necessities hidden within, not so optimistic that she was willing to unpack entirely, and risk losing everything if they needed to run again. She heard Snape coming and going from his room several times, but didn’t dare peek out to see what he was up to. She lay on her bed, idly wondering if he’d yet turned his room into a colorless void. Would he dare, in someone else’s house?
After too many hours of sitting around, organizing and reorganizing her drawers, she could pretend to be busy no longer. She cracked the door open, and peered out, checking that the coast was clear before she snuck past his door, and down the stairs. His bedroom door was shut tightly, and didn’t open, though she kept glancing back at it, nervous. She felt almost more embarrassed for running away than she did for letting him see her stark naked, and she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say when she saw him again. Was she supposed to ask about their Occlumency lessons? Tiptoe around the growing adoration he felt for her, or provoke his anger to avoid chatting about what had happened last night? She just wasn’t sure, and as she secreted her way to the kitchen, she let her mind run wild, turning over possibilities, mapping out possible happenings.
“Oh, Miss Granger! I wasn’t sure if you were out of bed or not.”
Hermione jumped nearly a foot in the air at the voice behind her, spinning to see the not-quite familiar wizard who’d allowed them into his home.
“Yes, yes, I’ve been unpacking a bit, cleaning up…” She yammered, feeling as though her heart were about to beat out of her chest with the fright. She could read the worry on his face, matched by the concern in his thoughts as he looked her over, noted her darting eyes, the defensive way she held herself.
“I was wondering, would you and your… friend be willing to help out around the house a bit? I have the refugees helping out when they’re around, but it’s such a large house, I find it difficult to do it all myself these days.” Shroge entreated, his hands in a supplicating gesture. Hermione noticed that his fingers were covered in dirt, and she glanced from the hallway to the back door.
“Were you working in your garden? I’d love to help.” She agreed, anything to get out of the house, away from the possibility of running into Snape alone between rooms. She followed the wizard outside as he chatted at her, telling her the ins and outs of his small garden, what he was growing, the complications of the rootweed that was terrorizing his tomato plant.
Hermione threw herself into the task of digging up the noxious roots, tossing them into a bucket before they could burrow back into the earth and destroy the garden. She worked tirelessly, ignoring the dull sun that tried to shine through the clouds, hoping for the rain that might lower the blazing temperature beneath those clouds, and wash away the sweat that dripped down her face.
Eventually, she was forced to relent, her thirst getting the better of her, she excused herself inside, wiping her forehead, and tossing the dirt-covered gloves aside. She valiantly tried to dust her pants and stomp the dirt from her shoes before she entered the house, but she felt it was a lost cause. She might as well consign herself to be covered in earth until she had time to shower. She’d just have to sweep the kitchen floor later.
She grabbed a glass from a cabinet and filled it from the tap, chugging it down as she stared out the glass doors that displayed the large back yard, and tall fields of grass that surrounded the house. She could just barely see the edge of the garden, and grumbled to herself as she watched a few of the rootweeds tumble from the bucket and begin burrowing back into their stolen home.
“Making mud pies today, are we?” Snape’s sarcastic drawl pulled her attention away from the greenery outside, and she whirled around, and gave him an unappreciative glare for his comment.
“Gardening.” She corrected him, not daring to meet his eyes. She turned her back on him, pretending to focus on the yard through the glass as she took another drink, and listened to him open the muggle fridge, and close it. Seeing the muggle appliances that littered the house had given her great joy, and she couldn’t deny her anticipation for chilled lemonade, especially if this heat wave kept up.
“You look a bit flushed, you should probably take a moment to cool down.” Snape’s deep voice came from right behind her, and she braced one hand on the counter, refusing to turn and face him, even as she felt him brushing her hair aside, baring her sweat-dampened back to the cool air of the house.
A freezing wet lump pressed into the bare spot between her neck and shoulder, and she yelped in surprise, finally deigning to turn and glare at Snape, and the offending ice-cube he’d pressed into her skin. He smirked, and lowered the ice again, letting her watch until it was below her line of site as he slid a cold wet trail down the pulse at her neck, and along the collar of her shirt. The look in his eyes threatened to melt the ice with it’s heat, and she felt her breath catch as his free hand came forward, lifting her shirt so he could touch the ice to her belly, making her jerk slightly in shock again. She could see the playfulness of his thoughts, and with the pleasant feeling of the ice, it was all too easy to lean back against the counter, and let him run the ice down a line to her navel.
It DID feel rather pleasant. He lifted the ice to her lips, and she felt them part at he traced her bottom lip with it. He led it in a wet line down her chin, neck and right along her cleavage. His thoughts were pulsing a bright ruby, and she could almost feel the erection straining at his trousers and mind. The thought of him being so aroused, right here in the kitchen, made her nervous. If it weren’t for his billowy black robes, it’d be a visible condition, and instantly noticeable if Shroge were to come inside. As it was, a quick glance at his hips told her that his state was well hidden by his clothes. Clothes that looked suspiciously like his teaching robes. He must’ve transfigured his clothes into what he preferred, now that there was no worry of being spotted. She looked over the many buttons of his frock coat, and wondered idly if it’d done the job of hiding his arousal while he was a professor.
The cold wet droplets that ran down her skin were being left along one side of her breasts, and then the other, leaving her to ponder his clothes with no answer, his eyes fixed firmly on the wet trail he was leaving on her, a hungry look leaving no doubt that he’d like his tongue to replace the ice. Hermione gasped as a mischievous smirk graced his face, and he dropped the small frozen block right down her shirt. She instinctively grabbed for it, holding her shirt away, and let it drop to the floor, offering him a glare.
She growled wordlessly at him, contemplating vengeance, only to come up short. She had no idea how to get him back for that, and the galling smile on his face said he knew it.
“You should finish your water.” He suggested glibly, heading out the door without a backward glance. She muttered under her breath, and picked her glass back up, glaring after him as he wandered out to speak to their host.
She turned over the last thought she’d managed to catch before he’d stalked off. His strange and irritating performance had been nothing more than an attempt to get a reaction from her. She’d seen a sort of relief that her skittish retreat the previous night wasn’t permanent. He’d been worried that when she left, she wouldn’t be coming back. She kicked the melting piece of ice under the cabinet, and glowered out at him. Couldn’t he just leave her to fret for a few days about the growing closeness between them, without needing to make her admit that when it came right down to it, her worry would lose out against her enjoyment? Couldn’t he afford her SOME small smidgen of privacy in which to at least TRY to reason with herself? No, the man had to go an destroy all sanity with his stupid lecherous advances, and his sexual thoughts. Now she was turned on, irritated, and had to go back outside and finish gardening alongside an elderly wizard, while trying not to think of that stupid ice cube trailing along her skin, or his lips following after it.
-
Hermione stared up at her ceiling, losing her own argument against herself. She SHOULDN’T go into his room tonight. One night was a fluke, twice was a precedent. She didn’t want to set the wrong pattern for the rest of their stay here; she didn’t want him EXPECTING her to come into his room every night, and play sexual games with him. But damn it, if his antics with the ice earlier that day hadn’t left her feeling the need to both shout at him, and use him for satisfaction. She was too frustrated to sleep, and tried arguing her case for simply lying there until she passed out. She wasn’t doing too well, especially after she realized she was absent-mindedly rubbing her breast through her t-shirt, fantasizing about how his lips had felt the previous evening.
“Damn it all.” She griped, rolling from her bed, and stalking across the hall with purposeful steps. She tried to tell herself it was just to chastise him for dropping ice down her shirt, and turning her on unnecessarily; nothing more. She knocked on the door gently, almost hoping he was asleep already.
“Come in.” His voice called through the door. She turned the knob, and stepped into his room, shutting the door behind her, suddenly worried about lingering in the hallway, and being caught by Shroge. Silly, really. He wasn’t her parent, and shouldn’t care that she was entering a man’s room at night.
“How can I assist you tonight, Miss Granger?” He asked, not bothering to look up from where he was writing at his desk.
“You can assist me by not dropping ice down my shirt in future.” She snapped, eyeing the imposing glass of ice water next to his work, and cloaking her unnerving excitement with annoyance.
“Is there something else you’d prefer I let down your shirt, instead?” He taunted, setting his quill down, and fixing her with a knowing stare. She kept her glower in place, and forced THAT thought from her mind.
“No, there’s not. I’d also discourage you from needlessly making me uncomfortable while I’ve got work to do.” She held her head high, her arms crossed.
“Are you wearing any knickers tonight?” He asked pointedly, his eyes traveling along the rather shapeless nightgown she wore.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” She asserted, keeping her mind firmly away from thoughts that would answer his question. He offered a sporting half-smile at her charade, and turned his head back to his paperwork. WHAT he could possibly have paperwork for, she didn’t know.
“Hand me that scroll of parchment over there.” He ordered, gesturing to the nightstand. She huffed, but moved to retrieve the paper, handing it to him with a wasted pout. He took it, and set it down on the desk, not bothering to open it as he stood, suddenly towering over her.
“If the state of your underwear wasn’t my business, you wouldn’t have come into my room without it last night, would you have done?” He asked, staring down at her with a predatory gaze. She glanced from the parchment to his eyes, realizing that it was just a ruse to get her within arms reach.
“One night does not make it your business.” She tried to argue.
“And the night previous?” He asked, smirking down at her. She huffed indignantly, floundering for anything to say. “Did the ice really irritate you so much?” He asked, amused as he skimmed her frustrated thoughts.
“Between your actions, the heat, and being aroused half the afternoon, yeah, I’m pretty annoyed.” She replied.
“Allow me to make it up to you?” He flirted, bringing his hands up to rest on her hips. She felt a strange sense of power at his version of an apology, and nodded once.
“You can try.” She taunted. He smirked at her challenge, and used his hold on her hips to guide her so her bum was resting on the edge of the desk, and he was pressed into her front. She resolutely kept her arms crossed, refusing to help him seduce her.
Instead of kissing her as she’d expected, he skimmed his fingers down her thighs, running them back up bare skin as he pushed her nightgown slowly toward her hips. She stared into his eyes, reading his enjoyment of teasing her as he caressed her thighs. He pushed it higher and higher, revealing her plain knickers, and bare stomach. His fingers traced burning patterns the whole way to her ribcage, where he was stopped by her petulant arms. He dropped the fabric in order to manually unfold her arms, and leave them dangling by her sides. When his path was clear, he started again from her thighs, making his way up her hips, past her navel, and eventually baring her breasts. Hermione fought the urge to cover herself, instead grabbing the edge of the desk she leaned against, forcing her hands to stay put. The air-conditioned chill of the room made her nipples harden, and Snape’s scrutiny did nothing to alleviate their discomfort. His fingers gently massaged the underside of her breasts a moment, kneading the sensitive skin, and relieving just a small portion of the frustration that had pent up in her.
He tenderly plucked at her hardened peaks, a carnal enjoyment of the action flashing through his thoughts as a dark red, an even darker contemplation being shoved aside for the present. She didn’t bother chasing his fantasy this time, following his lead, and focusing entirely on what he was doing, the delicious tingles that were traveling from her breasts, straight to her groin. She had to admit, he was making up for earlier rather fantastically. Long pale fingers covered her chest, and slid back down her ribcage, resting on either side of her waist. Finally, he bent his head and kissed her, a slow, heated kiss that she returned, and left no question of whether or not she was enjoying herself. She could feel the rough wool of his coat, the many buttons pressing into her front, and the fact that his clothes were pressing into her bare skin left her more turned on. She was bared to him once more while he retained his clothes. As far as patterns went, she couldn’t say she hated it. It was rather arousing to know that he was still fully dressed while she was exposed to the room, like some sort of shameless wanton.
She could feel the fingers of one of his hands voyaging lower, pressing confidently into the warmth of her knickers, rubbing slow circles that matched the pace of his kisses. Hermione felt all of the tension melting away, all of her worries and fears dissipating in a haze of pure bliss. She brought her hand forward, rubbing at the front of his robes, feeling the evident bulge from his own arousal. With such fire burning between them now, she could almost forget the frightening comfort from the night before, and she let it slip from her mind, focusing on the sweet thrills his hand was creating.
She could feel the orgasm creeping closer, and just at the edge, he pulled his fingers away, snatching her hands as she moved to try to finish the job herself. A whine of desperation escaped her throat as he held her hands away from her needy core, forcing her legs further apart with his knee. He let her hands go, grabbing her hips again, to lift her onto his desk, scattering the papers slightly as he sat her on the edge of the wooden top, and nestled his hips between her thighs. She grabbed handfuls of his robes, dragging him closer to her, starving for the release he’d cruelly denied her. His kisses turned vicious, nipping her bottom lip, and kissing nearly hard enough to bruise as he unrestrainedly bucked his hips into hers, rubbing his covered erection into her knickers. Her legs were wrapped around his without any thought, and her fingers twined in his hair, grabbing, and pulling, and trying to convey her need.
His lips moved to her neck, nipping and sucking, making her shudder with the sensations that were assaulting her. One of his hands was pinching at her nipple again, tugging and twisting with torturous delight, his other hand at the small of her back, pressing her body into his. She groaned, her back arching into his touch, her head lolling to the side, and she felt the wave starting again, so, so close.
He pulled away again, and she nearly screamed with frustration, her eyes snapping back open to glare at him. The glare didn’t last long, though, replaced with a wince of discomfort. He’d given a rather sharp tug to her breast before releasing it, letting his hand slide up her chest, and around the back of her neck. He held her, a bit of her hair in his grasp, and pulled her with him, not so roughly as to cause pain, but holding her firmly enough that she had no option but to do as directed.
Wordlessly, he pulled her to the bed, letting her go so he could pull her nightgown over her head. He snatched up his wand from the nightstand, and tapped at his robes, setting the buttons to undo themselves in a chain reaction down his front, leaving him to drop most of his clothes to the floor as soon as he’d replaced his wand. Hermione didn’t think. She just moved. Her hands were on him before he could reach for his trousers, pulling him back into a fierce kiss, pressing her bare chest to his. His hands slid over her skin, appreciating each and every inch of her bare torso.
He guided her the small distance to the top of the bed, lying her across his still-made bedcovers, and letting her twine herself around him. He was more than content to lie between her legs, and as she met his eyes, she felt his overwhelming appreciation for her obvious desire. It was why he hadn’t let her orgasm. He wanted to draw it out as long as possible, and make her squirm against him, just like this. He enjoyed the way she was crushing herself up against him, pulling him in, squeezing him with her legs. It was the closest he’d get to sex until he took her virginity.
She froze for a brief moment at that thought. He seemed absolutely positive that it’d be him, there’d been no doubt in his thoughts. It hadn’t been IF he took her virginity, it’d been WHEN. The way he was licking and suckling at the peak of her breast made it less frightening a thought than it might have been, and she let the moment go, relishing the feel of him pressing once more into her burning center. The crude imitation of sex that had them rutting against one another left her breathless, and entirely unsatisfied. She tapped her palm against his back, trying to gasp his name as he nibbled her earlobe and tugged at her hair.
“Prof- Sna-...” She huffed, trying to get his attention, and being rewarded with his fierce onyx stare. The first thing she noticed were his thoughts, his discomfort at the moniker ‘Professor Snape’ while he had her in such a personal situation. It created an errant thought of possible alternatives, which was swiftly bulldozed by his evaluation of her. She was flushed, obviously aroused, and looked half an inch from losing her mind if he didn’t deliver.
“You want to cum?” He whispered, his fingers teasing a path down her side.
“Mmhm.” She groaned, pushing a black curtain of hair back from his face.
“Say you’re mine.” He growled possessively, his fingers dipping between her thighs, replacing his erection, and rubbing their way straight into her mind.
“Hm?” She moaned, her eyes locked on his, trying to figure out what his game was. There was always a game.
“Admit you’re mine, and I’ll let you come.” He demanded, his fingers slowing just as she thought she was going to get close. She whimpered, trapped by the ultimatum. His eyes held a greedy lust, more than physical, a dark magenta swirling with green covetous swirls. A bright red sexual need for everything she was, and a nearly neon yellow as she made her mouth move.
“I’m yours. Please.” She begged, pressing her forehead to his, needing what he was offering, and willing to pay whatever price he asked. His fingers pressed only slightly harder, circled a bit faster, but it was enough. Stars exploded behind her eyes, her back arched, and her nails dug into his shoulders.
His fingers slowed to a halt, and the wave of pleasure ebbed, leaving her staring up into heated black eyes, too dazed to make sense of the swirling thoughts she could just barely perceive. His thoughts were slowly coming back into focus, his fingers still resting against her core, and she couldn’t seem to find any ounce of embarrassment or shame as he bent his head to hers, and kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but it matched his mind, fierce and full of hunger. He wanted her in a way he’d hardly wanted anything just then. She arched into him, almost welcoming that need, feeling an unfulfilled desire deep within her. The orgasm had been great, but she craved more. It was the feeling his fingers inside her had created that she wanted.
She heard a low growl come from his throat, his hands moving to pull her underwear off in nearly a frenzy, his lips pressing into her chest and belly as he moved to pull the small bit of fabric completely from her body. He then slid back up her body, kissing his way back to her lips, and he plunged his fingers into her faster than she had time to realize what he was doing. She gasped in surprise, but as he jerked them in and out quickly, the gasp turned to a moan, and she felt her hips rolling into the motions, her thoughts scattered to the feeling, barely aware enough to feel his mouth on her neck, kissing and nipping. The force of another orgasm burst through her, and she collapsed underneath him, panting, and spent.
He loomed over her, watching her heavy breathing, and slowly withdrew his fingers from her, making her squirm in mild discomfort.
“Was it too much?” He asked, noticing her discomfort. She shook her head wordlessly, even though she could feel the strange throbbing that was left inside her, as though a phantom of his fingers was still pressing into her. It had been perfect, just what she’d been craving, despite the lingering soreness. It wasn’t terrible, she thought. It was more that the feeling of his fingers sliding back out of her was strange. Though, with the ache left behind from just two of his fingers, she couldn’t fathom what sort of result his fully erect phallus might have. He was staring into her eyes, reading her easily.
“I’ll make a potion for you, so it won’t hurt at all.” He promised, answering her worries with a solution, and brushing hair from her forehead as he rolled to his side, and draped one arm over her middle. She lay still, taking it all, the weight of his arm, the concept of making love without any of the rumored pain or blood, and she finally managed to voice a thought.
“You don’t have a potions lab.” She panted, more than a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to follow through.
“Not yet. Shroge has offered me use of his basement to set one up, and even has a few sparse potions ingredients with which to start.” Snape responded, his eyes wandering over her naked body. She could feel the solid pulsing beat that filled him, his own desire going unfulfilled as they chatted. He hadn’t so much as taken his pants off, even though he’d satisfied her into the consistency of a mushy pudding. She moved her hand, gently caressing the front of his trousers, trying to return the pleasure he’d given her. His eyes closed in appreciation, and his hips rolled toward her slightly, encouraging the contact. She watched his face twist with enjoyment as she rubbed harder, gripping slightly through the fabric, and she wondered if it was really as good for him as it seemed.
“Look at me.” She urged, loving the way his eyes snapped open, and fixed on her instantly. She could immediately read everything on the surface of his mind, the pleasurable sensation of her hand on him, not as physically pleasing as jerking off, but more enjoyable, because it wasn’t his own hand. It was her’s, and even without skin on skin, even if it wouldn’t make him cum, he wouldn’t dare demand more, and risk losing this. She could tell he wanted more though, even if he wouldn’t ask for it. She used both hands to work his pants open, and his erection free, gripping it more firmly as she stared up at him.
“That’s… cheating.” He grumbled, not really caring that she was using his own mind to unlock the secrets of his pleasure. Most people had to learn their partner’s preferences by doing, and testing, not by plucking them straight from their heads.
“So… Tell me exactly what to do, and I won’t have to stare at you the whole time.” She offered, stroking him to the base, and splaying her fingers across his testicles in a gentle touch that came directly from his thoughts. He groaned, and slid his hand down to hers, wordlessly directing her on how to touch, squeeze, and stroke in his favorite ways. She quickly developed a preference for the way he responded when she gripped the top of his shaft, and jerked his foreskin rapidly back and forth over the head. His whole body seemed to respond, his hips thrusting, his face twisting, his lungs panting, and his fists balling. She relished the groan of pleasure he made, and slowed her hand, teasing him the same way he’d teased her earlier. His groan turned to a growl of displeaure, and she glanced up from her torturing hand, to his face, reading his emotions nearly before she saw the expression on his face. He didn’t particularly enjoy the turnabout, but he found her daring and teasing beyond reproach. He knew he’d earned this suffering, and was rather fond of the mischievous glint in her eyes as she did it all over again. When her hand jerked to a stop, and he pried his eyes open again, she saw that she’d brought him mere strokes from orgasm, his heavy breath and twitching fingers belying his calm expression as he fought his desire to roll on top of her and rub himself to completion against her wet sex. THAT was an interesting thought, and she silently pushed at his hips, forcing him to roll onto his back, even as he looked at her in curiosity. She glanced at him, picking up on his silent question, and not answering, keeping her thoughts to herself as she rolled to her knees, and began tugging his pants the rest of the way off. He lifted his hips and legs to help her remove them, wondering why she chose tonight to have him fully undressed. She clearly didn’t plan on fucking him, and last night, she’d managed to suck him off just fine with his trousers on.
As his pants hit the carpeted floor, she trailed her fingers up his thigh, across his straining erection, and over his belly.
“It was YOUR idea, so remember, you’ve only got yourself to blame for this.” Hermione goaded, bracing her hands on his chest as she swung one leg over his hips, and straddled him. His eyes widened, and she could see disbelief filling his thoughts as she reached down between them, and held his member still against his abdomen as she rested her own hips over top of him. He bit his lower lip, his hands resting on her hips, and his eyes closing in contented satisfaction at finally feeling the heat of them pressed together. She felt an unfamiliar smug smirk tugging at her lips as she slid slowly back and forth on top of him, doing just what he’d wanted. The only difference was that she was still in control, not letting him grind against her to a swift completion, but rather sliding torturously to and fro, even as his fingers gripped her tightly, encouraging her to move faster. She ignored the silent entreaty, and kept up her slow pace, watching his face twist with agonized pleasure, and his thoughts swirl in a chaotic whirlwind of need. She could almost feel herself on top of him in his mind, the amazing sensation of her own sex pressing into his excruciatingly hard shaft.
She felt a bit uncomfortable being naked, and so visible in her position atop him, but she did her best to ignore that embarrassment, and focus solely on the rising pleasure of his thoughts. He was desperate to cum, and enjoying the way she was taking control, despite his barely controlled need to be the one in charge. With her on top of him, there was no doubt at all that she was as invested as he was. He knew she may not have logically figured her feelings all the way out, but like this, he had no doubt that she wanted him.
She stared down into his eyes, and as he stared back openly, he didn’t spare a second thought for her excessive ability to see into his thoughts. With her eyes locked on his face, he could read her expressions almost as easily, she really was so open with her reactions around him, that he could see the lust that glazed her eyes, the parted lips panting as she tilted her hips just right to pleasure herself over him. He could see the slight pull of her brows, matched by her slightly smirking mouth that told him she was enjoying having him at her mercy. She’d never been cruel, but in this fashion, she was enjoying torturing him so deliciously. She could say what she wanted about the dominance games he liked to play, but it was more than clear from her flushed cheeks and flashing eyes that she was getting just as much pleasure from the act as he was.
“Please…” He pleaded, playing the game so wondrously. Hermione groaned, relishing the sound of his entreaty. She couldn’t recall ever hearing him beg so desperately before. She knew it was a simple tactic to rile her up, but even with that knowledge, she felt it sink right to her heated center.
“Please what?” She teased, sliding oh so slowly from base to tip, and back. He groaned, and his fingers dug at her skin, trying to push and pull in agitated ecstacy. She grasped his wrists, and gently pulled his hands away, trapping them above his head in a movement that she’d never considered before she saw it in his memories. His eyes widened in surprise at her bold move, but he didn’t struggle against the hold. He balled his fists, and let his eyes flutter closed as she slid back and forth atop him with an agonizing pace.
“Faster…” He panted, wanting so badly to reach that blissful peak. She could see it on his face, even when he closed his eyes. He was so close, and yet not quite there. His hips were rutting against hers, his teeth digging into his bottom lip in desperation, and Hermione considered giving in. She stared down at him, feeling a flickering of his emotions as his eyes fluttered open and closed, unable to maintain solid eye contact as she used his hard shaft to stimulate her own sensitive skin. When she tilted her hips just so, it got that amazing bundle of nerves, and she slid it quickly back and forth across the glans of his phallus. The zap of instant pleasure that flooded her and caused her body to twitch involuntarily shifted her hips back over the head, and she groaned as it caused another amazing tingle of excitement. Rubbing against him like this, it didn’t matter that her body had a mind of its own, even twitching her hips back and forth was causing more friction.
She rocked faster, getting a bit lost in the sensation of freely pleasuring herself with the motion, despite the occasional zing of muscle-tweaking rapture. She was bent over him slightly, holding his arms in place, and moving distractedly against him, not paying much attention to the way their bodies were moving together, the way her hips were tilting as she slid past his glans, and over his head. She wasn’t paying any attention at all until a sudden change in the sensation made her jerk to a stop. Her eyes snapped open, and she stared down at him, her breath caught in her throat as she felt what was obviously the tip of his erection pressing against her virgin opening. He’d stopped all motion underneath her, staring up at her, worried he’d stopped too late. It was a strange feeling, being right on the cusp of sexual intercourse, and pausing, staring at one another in worried anticipation. She felt a sudden surge of desire to just drop down, and be done with it. She moved barely a millimeter when his hands jerked from hers, and held her hips still, stopping her from impaling herself on him.
“Don’t.” He growled, though she could see in his expression that he wanted nothing more than to thrust his hips upward and bury himself in her.
“Why?” She asked, laying her hands atop his, ready to pull them away from their controlling position.
“You’ll hurt yourself. It’s more than just the pain, Hermione, you could actually tear something.” He said, and she stared down at him curiously, taking a moment to figure out what about his sentence was so strange.
“You called me ‘Hermione’.” She said, slowly moving herself upward, so that the tip of his cock was free of the tension, and she could comfortably rest back atop his hips again.
“Don’t get used to it.” He growled, his fingers now pushing and pulling her again, encouraging her back into the movement that their strange slipup had interrupted. She grinned down at him, savoring the intimacy his use of her name had created. She’d heard him use her given name in his thoughts, but he’d been trying to verbally disntance himself as best he could, and when she thought about it, he hadn’t even been using her surname much recently either. She continued the motions of bringing him off, but her brain was whirling as she did, wondering about his strange attitude toward names.
“Does this mean I can call you Severus now?” She leaned down to whisper in his ear playfully. He growled in the negative, and she pressed her lips to his neck, kissing butterfly soft persuasion along his throat. “Why can’t I call you Severus?” She asked, pausing only briefly in her kisses to inquire.
“It implies familiarity.” He said, his voice strained when he finally managed to answer. She leaned away from her kisses to look into his eyes, practically able to feel the lie in his voice, and wanting to know the truth.
“I’m sitting naked on top of you, practically making love to you, and you’re worried it’s too familiar?” She asked, pausing the motion of her hips to help make her point. He groaned, and stared up at her, unable to form the feelings into words. She sorted quickly through the thoughts he was offering her, hoping she understood it better than him. There were several of the Marauders calling him Snivellus, Lily calling him Sev for so many years, the dark wizards calling him Severus, Students calling him Snape, Professor, and Sir. And then there was her. What was left for her to call him? Her friends called her Hermione, her professors called her Granger, and he called her a stupid girl. What could he possibly call her that didn’t have other feeling to it?
“I thought we already covered what I am?” Hermione could hear her voice shaking slightly as she used his earlier game against his own tortured mind. “I’m ‘yours’.” She stated boldly.
“Mine.” He whispered back, his head nodding slightly, despite the strange disconnect she could feel in his thoughts. She held his gaze, searching for it as she moved her hips once more, using the pleasure she gave him to soften his thoughts, and make it easier for her to get through them. She was his, he would watch out for her, he would provide for her, he would take whatever she offered, but… She didn’t reciprocate.
“You’re stupid.” She exclaimed, leaning over him once more to press her lips to his. He kissed her back easily, familiar with the motions, but when she pulled away to read his eyes, she found a strange thought. Would she find a new plaything after she learned all she could from him?
She surprised both of them when her hand snapped up to strike his face, filling him with instant fury and disbelief, and anger flooded her.
“You’re not a plaything, Severus.” She snapped at him, holding him down by the shoulders as he glared up at her.
“Then what am I?” He asked, his eyes holding a bit of fear, one of his hands circled around her wrist, the other still at her hip.
“You’re a person, with thoughts and feelings.” She answered, but he sneered.
“What am I to YOU, if not a plaything, HERMIONE?” He asked, using her name like a dirty word.
“You’re my friend, my teacher, my… My partner in trying to destroy Volde-... You-Know-Who. You’re someone I know better than I think I know even myself. You’re… you’re mine.” She said, feeling the same rush of possessiveness that she’d felt when imagining him with Lily. “We’ve been over this, Professor! I’m not using you just to scratch some teenage itch! I care about you, and I’m comfortable with you, and I don’t want anyone else to touch you.”
“I’m yours?” He asked, sounding a bit skeptical. She nodded, feeling her face flush bright red.
“Yes. If you’re allowed to say that I BELONG to you, then I’m allowed to do the same.” She huffed.
“Prove it.” He ordered, and she looked at him questioningly, searching his mind for his meaning. She blushed a deeper red when she saw it, and she nodded once, agreeing to do what he was asking. She stared at his face, worried that he’d change his mind at any moment as he let go of her wrist and hip, and let his arms fall to the mattress on either side of them. He was staring up at her with the same intensity with which she watched him, and she felt another wave of embarrassment wash over her as she bent her face to the crook of his neck and kissed him as she had earlier. He made no move to stop her, but also didn’t move to help her as she began once more pleasuring them both She could feel the aching sensation of wanting to be filled, but didn’t dare attempt to insert his erection, worried about his words on tearing something.
She focused on the pleasure that had dwindled for her, trying to reach that same level of enjoyment she had before his thoughts distracted her. She kissed her way along his shoulder, across his collarbone, and up the other side of his neck to his ear, grinding against him in ways that made her quickly worry about her own orgasm coming too soon. She could just barely see his fists balled in the blanket underneath them, silently trying to hold back his own gratification. She slid one hand from his shoulder, and grasped his hair, feeling the slight damp of sweat near his temple, the silky strands of thick onyx giving her a good hold on him as she whispered in his ear.
“Say you’re mine and I’ll let you cum.” She promised, using the same words he had earlier. “Say you belong to me, and I’ll stay here all night.” She added, hoping to entice him further. It was a gamble, and she didn’t dare look up to read his thoughts, but she could feel the stiffness in his body in reaction, the twitch of his cock against her folds.
“I belong to you. Every part of me is yours.” He managed to moan, his hands unable to stay away any longer. He grabbed her face and brought her lips to his, kissing her as he thrust desperately against her swollen womanhood, quickly aiming for his release. Hermione mewled as her hips tilted, letting his thrusts carry his shaft right along the perfect path to make her own orgasm cascade over him.
As she stilled on top of him, she buried her face in his neck, hoping to hide her blush. They were breathing heavily, covered in sweat, and she felt her thoughts sluggishly trying to process what the hell had just happened. It seemed like much more than the sexy games they’d been playing at the beginning of the evening. Plus, she’d agreed to spend the night. Just the thought made her want to scramble back to her own room and hide, but she took breath after breath, clinging to his shaking body in hopes of overcoming her sudden nerves.
He was stroking her hair, as if he knew what she was thinking, and was trying to soothe her. Hermione focused on her breathing, trying to quiet her thoughts with the meditation of clearing her mind, feeling a deep, satisfied sleepiness cover her like a blanket. He was warm underneath her, his hands were slow and gentle, and she just couldn’t keep her eyes open. She fell asleep surrounded by the scent of him, and his warmth.

A/N: Thanks to Basisian for reminding me it'd been awhile since I updated! Sorry for making you guys wait so long between chapters!

Lunarose : Hahahahahaha, reading at work is fine, as long as you're fast at minimizing tabs! when someone walks by!
Clem_: Thank you!
Cheese_And_Crackers: Hehe, I'm always here, just... not always uploading. >.< I keep forgetting to post what I've got written, because I keep not being able to write the last chapter. ToT
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