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Mission Impossible	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 11774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 14
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A/N: Thanks for the continued reviews! I love reading what you have to say!

He had been virtually useless. He’d stood in the doorway; listening as she’d read various bits of information aloud. Most of what she’d presented him with had either been theories he’d already tested; a few of them they hadn’t the resources to attempt. But after only an hour he seemed to grow both weary and restless and before she could protest he had dismissed himself from her presence and she’d found herself alone.

            It continued like that for days. Administering his eye drops around the clock, every six hours, and then being forced to flee from him. His eyes showed little improvement although he no longer appeared to be on death’s door. She would come to him as he rested; presenting new information only to have it shot down. Hermione was beyond frustrated and had lost track of how long she’d spent in the isolated cottage with only the dangerous man and her research for company.

            She found that exhaustion was taking its toll; her hands were unsteady when she flipped through tomes, her steps faulty as she moved through the house and she found herself jolting awake after seconds of dozing off no matter where in the house she was. She needed real sleep but it was nearly impossible to allow herself to comfortably slumber.

            The notion fell upon her late one evening; the eye drops had nearly run out; when he was resting in the chair in the study. With a wordless spell she’d placed a ward around him; a detection charm of sorts that would alert her to his movement should he rouse from the chair before she had woken. She was determined to rest even if it was only for a few hours. Hermione crept up the stairs and slipped into the room that had been slated as hers. However she’d hardly slept in the bed, save for resting beside him when he’d first asked. He’d kept the linens clean and the room was warm despite the rest of the house being chilly. It was almost inviting.

            She closed the door behind her, locked it, and warded it. A detection charm as well, to trigger should he enter the room in case her first detection spell failed to wake her. It did not take long for Hermione to slip beneath the sheets of the bed; the pillow still fresh with the scent of him. She longed to wear something more comfortable; a cotton gown or just her knickers but she didn’t have the strength to change from her jeans and shirt. Her eyes fluttered closed; and within moments her chest was rising and falling deeply; sleep overcoming her.

            Rain was thrumming down the windows; her eyes watching a bleak grey landscape unfold before her. It was the attic of Number 12 Grimmauld Place; a dusty but quiet place away from all the commotion downstairs. A meeting gone awry; Order members divided, arguing over which side to take. Should they advance with the information and attack or should they wait. The need for action as eminent although Hermione suspected that some of the more restless members were merely eager to do anything that involved getting out of Order headquarters. She had refused to take sides not really knowing what was best and had retreated to the solitude of the attic. Even the screams of Mrs. Black’s portrait couldn’t be heard all the way up at the top of the house.

            She sighed; watching drop after drop slide down the grimy window pane. The rain was steady and the sky was a dreary shade of grey that seemed to suck all the happiness from the world. She turned slowly around; eyes hesitant to leave the water as it slid against the glass. “You shouldn’t be here…” she said; eyes gazing at him.

            “You want me here…” he whispered and stepped closer. He was standing straight up; nearly two heads taller than her. His black cloak was drawn around his figure, hiding most of him from view.

            “You should be downstairs convincing them of something.” Her voice trembled but it did not stop her feet from shuffling forward. A bolt of lightning flashed through the tiny attic window and cast eerie shadows across his sallow face. Heavy thunder followed; rolling across the sky with its steady beat. The candles that lit the room flickered and wavered as if the storm had blown in through the cracks in the walls.

            His hands were firm as he reached forward and wrapped her in his embrace. She shivered he was cold, his skin like ice. His lips leaned close to her; his body pressing against hers. “And what would you have me convince them?”

            “Severus,” she whimpered against his neck as she felt his arms tighten comfortably against her waist. “You shouldn’t be here…” she repeated, but rested her head against his chest.

            “You want me here…” again his voice was deep; a gentle caress against her ear.

            She sighed and inhaled his scent; the heady scent that was unique. Herbs and sandalwood with a musk that mingled beautifully against her nostrils. Hermione’s eyes closed as she nestled against his chest further. But after a moment her eyes opened. She leaned harder against his chest; her ear straining against the fabric of his shirt. There was no sound; no gentle thumping of his heart; not even the faintest trace of a heartbeat. She felt his arms tighten slightly around her. His chest did not rise and fall.

            “Severus,” she said and tilted her head up to gaze at him. “Oh!’ she squeaked. His eyes; the beautiful liquid brown irises had been replaced with the dark swelling depths of nothingness. “Please...you shouldn’t be here.”

            Thunder crackled and a bolt of lightning once more lit the room. In that moment she screamed; watching as he slowly pulled his lips back revealing pair of sharpened fangs. She struggled against his grip but he pinned her firm against his body. “No,” she whimpered. “Please—”

            “You want me here,” he hissed again and moved until he had pressed her against the window. The cold glass stung against her skin striking through her shirt and she could feel the raindrops streaking down the glass as if they were racing down her flesh. Hermione struggled again watching as the candles flickered throughout the attic and then extinguished. He tilted her head to one side and held it firmly there; his other hand gripping her firm around the waste.

            “No, please, no!” she cried. Severus pressed his lips gently against the side of her neck; his tongue sliding over her flesh. She wriggled trying to fight him as he pulled his lips back slightly and then leaned into her, sinking his fangs into her flesh.

            “No!” she cried. Hermione bolted up; drenched in sweat. She struggled against the sheets that had tangled around her body as she’d tossed and turned. Her hands rushed to her neck; gripping at either side of her throat as if trying to staunch blood flow. But she only felt her racing heartbeat beneath her fingers. Her eyes darted frantically around the room. It was dark, but empty. She sighed heavily and let her head fall back heavily against the pillow; it was damp with her sweat. “Nightmare…” she whispered aloud.

            But try as she might Hermione was unable to fall back to sleep. She tried conjuring a different pillow; putting it at the end of the bed; laying sideways across the mattress but nothing would allow her to fall back into the slumber she had found, though a part of her was grateful to not have to begin reliving the nightmare. Her breathing had calmed and her heart rate had slowed. She found herself dragging her fingers through her hair in frustration and then released it had been quite some time since she’d laid a brush to it.

            Tucked into the top drawer of the dresser she’d pulled from the trunk filled with miniature furniture she found her purse and withdrew a wide paddled hairbrush from its depths. She stood in front of the dresser and slowly began to stroke the brush through her hair. It tangled and caught several times, but she tugged, a bit too hard in certain places, breaking through the tangles. As she raked the brush across the dead back of her hair, it caught again. This tangle was thicker than the others and she grunted in frustration as she tugged at it with the brush, wrapping her fingers in her hair trying to untangle it.

            “The tangle is lower, you’re stuck on the top of it,” his voice was soft. She could see him in the mirror as he stood in the doorway.

            “I can feel that, I just can’t—”

            Had the brush not been stuck tangled in her hair it would have clattered against the hardwood floor as she spun around. “You can see!” Her fingers fumbled behind her head trying to rip the brush from her hair and after a moment she succeeded. Hermione rushed toward him and found herself swept up in his arms. “You can see,” she cried.

            His arms held her tight; a warm and welcoming embrace. “I awoke in the chair and my enchantment felt heavy; I removed the enchantment and was not pleased to see the state of the study,” he frowned and gazed into her eyes.

            Hermione blushed. “I do intend to put them all back…” she hadn’t really thought of how he might react could he see practically every book he owned strewn about the study in piles and messy heaps. “But your eyes!” she cried and held his face in her hands; gazing into the swirling brown depths. “They worked! The drops they actually worked!”

            “It would appear so,” he said, finding her proximity to be nearly intoxicating. He slackened his grip around her waist for a moment never letting his eyes leave hers. “I suppose a gesture of…gratitude is in order,” he said.

            Another blush crept to her cheeks. “Oh, it’s not necessary, I’m just— I can’t believe it actually worked!” she was giddy. Blood was racing through her veins and she could feel her heart thundering with excitement. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close; feeling his weight give way as he leaned into her. “Still feeling weak on your feet?” she asked and gently pulled back from his embrace, guiding them both down to sit at the foot of the bed.

            His nod was slow; as if he were reluctant to admit to weakness in the small moment of triumph. Severus turned to face her and allowed his eyes to slowly move across the delicate features of her face; the way the darkness of the room cast shadows across her narrow jaw, the light from the hallway filtering in and casting her skin to a glowing hue. Her eyes blinked several times as he gazed at her until finally he shook his head and then met her gaze once more. “You are a pleasant sight,” he said at last.

            A glowing smile graced her lips and she found her fingers twining with his as she took his hand. “I told you we could— that you would— well, one step at a time,” she beamed and squeezed his hand. His fingers still felt cold and for a moment a wave of ice shot through her as if some painful memory were surfacing. The nightmarish vision of the man with fangs and no eyes caused her to shudder but she shook it off; shifting herself further back onto the bed. The man before her had eyes; eyes that could see. His deep rich brown eyes could see everything; the tangles in her hair, the blush on her cheeks and she couldn’t help but giggle.

            “Amused?” he asked, quirking a brow up on his forehead.

            “I just…you can see,” she repeated for the umpteenth time an almost giddy look of girlish delight crossing her features. “Come here, let me see you properly.”

            “You weren’t the one with impaired vision,” he muttered and moved carefully up onto the bed. He was still wearing the soft black pajama bottoms and a faded black t-shirt, his hair hanging loosely around his chin as he shifted toward her. She noticed the tremor in his body as he moved; not as pronounced as it had been before but enough to warrant concern. He held her gaze steady as he leaned toward her. Severus rested his forehead against hers; drawing slow even breaths as he let his eyelids flutter closed for a moment, and his lips parted as he murmured. “Thank you.”

            His flesh was chilled; not as cold as he had felt when he’d gripped her so tightly that it had hurt when she’d administered his eye drops, but he still felt colder than he should have. He leaned slowly back, and then pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth; a simple chaste kiss. She tilted her head slightly and caught his lips with her own. They were healing; his lips no longer as chapped and thin as they had been when she’d first encountered him. There was hope. She held his kiss a moment before slowly cupping his cheeks and breaking away.

            In that moment his eyes searched hers; and she did not break his gaze. Their eyes were locked and she felt as if she could drown in the rich brown depths of his stare. She could not recall a time when she’d been allowed such an intimate moment to gaze into his eyes. Their meetings had always been frenzied and quick and even at the Burrow when she’d been given a chance to look on him proper she’d never truly held his gaze as she held it now. It sent a shiver up her spine. Hermione leaned forward and once more placed her lips against his.

            Severus pulled back. He longed to linger in her kiss; to feel her soft supple lips pressed against her. His eyes yearned to see more of her; to feel her warm flesh wriggling beneath his hands; the swell of her breast rising and falling as she would pant. The memories were strong and he was loath to admit that it had often been the tantalizing memories of their encounters that had forced him through another day. But he could smell her; the pungent odor of blood as if it were rising through her skin and floating to his nostrils. It was tempting. How easy it would be to push the girl down and simply take from her what he so desperately needed. But it was those images of her body twisted in sweet pleasure at his hand; and the care that she had taken from the moment she’d encountered him in his current state that kept him fighting the urges.

            But her lips were there once more; pressing against his, gently moving and kissing him. And she was too much to resist. The sweet taste of her mouth; he’d forgotten the sensation of her velvety tongue caressing his mouth and how much it ignited something warm and welcoming within him. The off-chance kiss that they had almost shared on the dance floor while intoxicated had started it all; and his body was practically on fire with the memory of her touch. Every inch of him concentrated on that memory; feeling her, and not the sound of the blood rushing through her veins that he could hear so clearly.

            Hermione felt his lips move slowly against hers and she was lost; drowning in memories. The strong handsome elusive lover; his hands firm on her flesh, brining her to orgasms, sending her reeling over the edge. The taste of his mouth against her tongue had her body fluttering with need and she felt her guard slipping, throwing caution to the wind. She slid back, gripping at his shoulders until she had fallen back against the mattress completely, still kissing him, her body drawing slowly down over hers. The weight of his frail body did not deter her as she wrapped her arms around him.

            Severus was careful as he returned her kiss; his body shaking, trembling as he felt his knees sink against the mattress. It took all of his strength to hold himself above her; and in a moment he leaned back, resting on his side, holding her close. “Hermione,” he whispered against her ear; the scent of her hair tickling his nostrils.

            “Severus?” she asked, letting her body align against his; trying to warm him with her own heat. “I didn’t mean to- er, are you alright?” she cleared her throat and wiped her hand across the back of her mouth, feeling foolish. How could she think of such things when he was still so frail? She’d let her desire overwhelm her, though her body still tingled and she could feel the warm heat gathering between her thighs. She gasped, feeling his hand against her thighs, cupped gently against her sex, the fabric of her jeans and knickers the only thing separating her from feeling his touch.

            “You are wet…” he whispered and she felt her body shiver; a burst of heat exploding between her thighs. She blushed again and gazed up into his eyes.

            “I…”

            “You’ve been waiting…” he whispered and pressed his lips against her ear. His kisses were gentle; wet and tremulous as he moved slowly across the line of her jaw until his lips met hers once more. “I may be weak, Hermione, but even a blind man could sense you…and I can see you,” he did his best to smirk as he drew in a somewhat ragged breath.

            Her face was flushed a deep crimson and she was certain that had she been laid naked before him that her whole body would be stained with the deep red coloring. Hermione’s mind was reeling. He was dangerous, but he could see, he was healing. She had longed to feel him for so long; it seemed like ages since she’d last felt his touch, but he was weak. She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them to find him staring at her; gazing into her eyes. “I missed this, er- us—” she fumbled over her words. “Not us— I mean yes this, us, because we’re not— but I mean—”

            He raised his eyebrows once more and could feel another smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “At a loss for the proper words, Hermione Granger?”

            She couldn’t turn any brighter shades of red. His trembling fingers rested against her cheek. Still so very cold his hands were; especially against her blush burnt cheek. Hermione tried to blink away from his gaze; unsure of how to proceed, but she sucked in a breath tightly almost hissing as he cupped his hand more firmly between her thighs, as if trying to grab at her sex. “Oh,” she whimpered, her back arching up from the mattress, trying to feel more of him through her jeans. It was wrong. She should have been focused on letting him rest so she could do more research. But she was lost in sensations; more remembered than present, but she found her hands groping over his shoulders until they had tangled in his hair and once more her lips had met his.

            He trembled against her and she felt his lips once more, trailing along her jaw, sliding over the side of her throat and for a moment she froze, but he did not linger as before. Soft wet kisses trailed to the front of her throat, suckling at the soft hollow as he once had; and she whimpered, tilting toward him further. She shifted, struggling with her shirt as she felt his hands trembling at her hips, trying to grip it firmly enough to draw it up her torso. It took her only a moment to pull the fabric up over her head. It fluttered to the floor the soft ripple of fabric filling the room and Hermione sat up. He too shifted and was sitting up, leaning against the headboard. “Let me see you,” he whispered.

            Hermione crossed her arms behind her back and carefully unhooked her bra. She longed to feel his hands guide each of the straps down her shoulders; yearned to feel his kisses against her flesh as he divested her, but he leaned hard against the headboard, gazing at her, waiting. She closed her eyes and slowly trailed her fingers up to her shoulder, gently dragging the strap down on her left shoulder and then her right; imagining it was his firm touch, his manly hand and not her own as she let the garment fall free from her chest.

            He gazed at her chest; watching the rise and fall of her breasts. It was too much. Her nubile breasts full with a youthful swell; her nipples standing pert and erect against the chill of the room. He could feel his body responding; he was long past hard, with no strength to reconcile the problem. He had seen her breasts half a dozen times; felt them in his hand, tasted them, and yet to see them before him as she leaned casually against the headboard, her head tilted toward him, it took his breath away.

            “Are you alright?” she asked softly, leaning closer, losing the sense of embarrassment as she pressed her lips against his cheek. He was so thin; still so malnourished. She closed her eyes; it was easier to imagine him as he was when he had hoisted her so easily onto the table in the basement of Grimmauld Place; or the hands that had so roughly pinned her to the wall of the lift as they’d rode all 17 stories in a drunken embrace, lips melded together. “Severus?”

            She shrieked a bit as he lunged forward, pinning her beneath him; his lips once again on hers. A wave of panic had washed over her, but as his lips ravished hers she found herself melting into the kiss. It was an awkward embrace, his arms around her figure, but pinned against the headboard on one side. Hermione slid down gently until she was on her side once more, bringing him down to the mattress with her. His hands were still cold; bony and thin as they gripped her shoulders, one hand tangling in her hair. Her thighs trembled, longing to feel his touch; yearning to feel the slick sensation of his throbbing cock sliding in and out of her; plunging into her depths as he had done before. She needed to feel him; it would all be better if she could feel him.

            Trembling fingers touched her skin; she let her fingers tug at his shirt as he explored her chest; his thumb caressing her nipple as she tried to remove his shirt. It took only a few moments for her to succeed in her efforts and he too was shirtless. She could not bring herself to gaze upon his frail chest; thin and waifish. But her hands were like scalding fires as she pressed them against his chest; his skin so thin and cold that it nearly pained her to touch him. “Are you…” she whimpered, feeling him pinch at her nipple. It felt delicious. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” she asked.

            Severus tilted his head and said nothing as he began to kiss her. He was rougher than before and Hermione whimpered slightly; pulling back and gazing up at the ceiling. “We don’t have to do this…” she muttered and threaded her fingers through his hair.

            “I want you,” he whispered against her skin; pressing gentle kisses against her lips, and then against her cheek. Slowly his lips trailed faint kisses over her eyelids and forehead before he kissed his way back down her cheek and was once against kissing the side of her neck; licking her almost lovingly.

            She ran her hands down his back gently; her nails raking against his flesh ever so slightly as she felt his lips suckling at her neck. She moaned, arching her hips against him; his body now atop hers. Hermione felt her eyes fluttering shut. It was almost as it was before and she could feel the throbbing between her legs growing stronger as she longed for her jeans and his pajama bottoms to join the shirts on the floor.

            His lips caressed her neck; the thrumming of blood coursing through her veins just at his lips. The pulsing of her heart was beating against him as he suckled her flesh. Severus closed his eyes; the warm rich scent of copper filling his nostrils. She was so close; and she whimpered, tilting her head back to allow him more access to her skin.

            Hermione cried out as she felt him nip at her flesh. “Severus,” she whimpered and then cried out again. Like daggers stabbing through her she felt his teeth break her skin. Shock flooded her; hot liquid squirting from the tear in her flesh; a stinging coursing through her neck. His lips were greedy; sucking at her neck as she felt her vision swim before her; unfocused and bleary. Her arms shook as she pushed hard on his chest; forcing him to his side. He growled and lunged once more at her neck but she thrashed her arms and legs, managing to knock him from the bed.

            Hermione laid there panting; gasping, clutching her trembling hand to her neck. Blood was gushing from the gash in her skin and she whimpered; pressing her palm hard against her wound; trying her best to staunch the flow. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest, the blood sliding down between her fingers and the room spinning around her. She cried out, perhaps his name or perhaps just a moan but it was the last thing she felt; her throat tightening, her lips parting to speak; as the room went black.

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Mission Impossible