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In Their Hands Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 19649 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
A/N: Severus1Snape – did Luna know? Hopefully we will find out in coming chapters.

Lovey_Reader – I’m glad that your kindle is back to being dropped ;) Not for the potential damage, but for the reaction. Yep the inventive piano wedging was probably stretching the imagination a bit but, hey, they’re magical, transfiguration can achieve just about anything, right? :). ‘But seriously woman’ – that cracked me up, I don’t get called ‘woman’ enough. ‘That was creepy yet so beautiful.´- I liked that, it’s a fine balance. ‘Snape lifts him up and into his arms and carries him down the mountain I almost wept’ – I felt a bit teary too. Glad you are still enjoying.

Oracle – ‘You've put me in the mood to gallop around the house like I'm on a horse.’ – I can just imagine you banging your two coconut halves together (hahah :D). ‘Grammarist says it's "to a T"’ – I must have looked up a dodgy site because I did check it, but I take your (and Grammarist)’s word above that one. ‘I definitely need to be chopstick-ed to orgasm’ – LOL. I wrote it but your summation cracked me up far more. Again, I was impressed by your analysis of how one might best position themselves in or on a piano. You are far more expert in this than me. We did have a piano when I was growing up but I never tried to get inside it ;) ‘Burn victim humor is so hard to come by’ – well, you know, it is a niche area rarely tapped. ‘The patients are all a who's who of Snape's help.’ – I liked this. ‘I thought Luna's candle explanation was a bit bland (but believable).’ – It was bland but I’m glad it was believable. ‘And this makes their dual views on peeping more poignant’ – yes I felt the judgment about him would be more balanced if his motives were explored and justified earlier. ‘And we part the scene with Starfish boy and another of his rescues’ – he’s becoming quite adept. Although he has his whole life really. ‘Seems like we're building up to something big with Snape.’ – Clever girl. Something big was required for the final opening of Snape and this was it.

Robin – I’m glad you appreciated the twist. ‘And thank you for making Snape this strong and capable.’ – Yes, my past Snapes have been somewhat emasculated and magically impotent so I wanted to have him fully potent, although he is still pretty sensitive and vulnerable.

Remarkable – I wanted to tell you in your last review how close you were with foreshadowing the ‘murder without the body’. I wondered if you were onto it but this was a pretty obscure twist in the end. I’m enjoying this Snape too. There’s not much of his POV so it’s more the enigmatic, omnipotence that I wanted to explore. ‘Chopsticks, indeed!’ – Hahah, love it!

Maral – I’m glad you are still enjoying. And hopefully not too breathless :)

Chapter 16 – Revealing Their Hands

“I’ll bring her back when she’s ready.” George’s face was unusually sombre as he stood with his arms wrapped protectively around Luna, who sobbed quietly into his chest.

Ellory had already started back down the trail with the rest of the group and now Hermione stood with Lynch, staring at the rocky ledge of the lookout as if it could somehow explain what had just happened.

“Lynch?” Hermione murmured quietly.

He continued to squint into the distance, his blue eyes washed out and glassy.

“Lynch?”

He looked at her in confusion.

“You couldn’t have known.”

He put his hands on his hips and frowned back at the ledge for another long moment before exhaling loudly. “The lad was at risk. We all knew it. But he seemed to have improved so much. I think we were too pleased with ourselves.”

Hermione knew exactly what he was saying. Sometimes, as a therapist, you wanted to see your successes with far more clarity than they warranted. And something she knew of suicide was that it wasn’t always accompanied by acute anguish. Sometimes, when the person had made the decision to leave, they exhibited the type of calm acceptance that Shaun had. No doubt, the opportunity to train with Luna and show her in such an emphatic way how sorry he was, might have seemed like a welcome deliverance from his suffering.

“We’ve just got to be grateful he’s still with us.” Hermione hooked her hand around Lynch’s arm and gently pulled him toward the trail. “Now we have an opportunity to give him the support he needs.”

Lynch allowed himself to be guided back to the path.

“And Ms Lovegood.” He looked over his shoulder to where George and Luna stood together on the ledge. “This is going to set her back too.”

“Luna is one of the strongest people I know; she’s resilient,” Hermione assured him. “She was teased at school for being different but it didn’t change her, whatsoever. She has a lot of support. And if I know her, she’s going to want to help Shaun too.”

He sighed heavily but remained quiet as they plodded down the track.

Hermione had never seen him so shaken. They were all understandably deeply shocked, but Lynch was a veteran of pain and trauma. He had seen and personally experienced a lot and that’s why he’d started the Retreat in the first place. His first wife had been a muggle and she and his young daughter had been killed by Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the Second Wizarding War. He never spoke of it and had always been so professionally driven, she didn’t often think about him as anything other than her boss.

Now she felt the sadness within him and kept her hand locked around his arm, more for moral than physical support. He was the most robust person she had ever known, working obsessively to keep himself in peak condition. Now she wondered if he was constantly training in order to be prepared, to fight, to protect. Something that he hadn’t managed to do for his family. And something he’d failed, again, to do today.

They continued in silence on the entire journey back to the retreat. But before entering the front door, Hermione tightened her grip on his arm, pulling him to a halt.

“Luna was right. You have done something remarkable here. This Retreat is extraordinary. You have transformed so many lives. Don’t let today define this place. Or define you.”

He stared at her, his jaw clenching as he blinked away the sheen in his eyes.

Leaning down, he hugged her. “You’re a good lass,” he murmured before releasing her and quickly moving away, opening the door and disappearing without a backward glance.

***

“How is he?” Hermione asked anxiously. She'd been waiting in her office for hours.

Snape sat down wearily in the seat opposite. “Lynch is with him. He’s sleeping. I gave him a potion. I’ll need to brew some more.”

His face was drawn as he ran a hand through his lank hair.

“What you did for Shaun . . . ,“ Hermione began.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, raising his other hand. “Don’t.”

Taking in the tension in his brow and the grim line of his mouth, she could see that he was suffering tremendously. He had clearly come to know Shaun well as his room-mate but she also felt that he understood the younger man on an entirely different level.

Standing, she moved over to him and positioned her legs on either side of his knees before lowering herself onto his lap. His eyes opened when she grasped both of his hands and pulled them behind her, before wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing his head to her chest.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he suddenly began to shudder against her. Stroking his hair with one hand and clutching his neck with the other, she did her best to soothe the sobs that wracked his body. For someone so iron-clad, so stoic, to be rupturing before her, it held all the gravity of a monumental statue toppling or a dam breaking. She cried quietly with him, silent tears coursing down her cheeks, not wanting to add to his pain. And as she rubbed and caressed him, he held her so tightly that she wondered what or who he was trying to cling on to.

When he finally lifted his head to fix her with eyes, dark and painfully tormented, she held his face in her hands, bringing her lips to his flushed cheeks to kiss away the tears. Grasping her small wrists in his hands, he pulled them to his chest as he captured her lips in his own. The kiss was not passionate, nor was it tentative, it was a kiss of open neediness and she responded immediately by opening her mouth to him.

He groaned, making the soft cavern of her mouth vibrate, and followed it with his tongue, seeking out hers, lapping and sucking at it, drinking her in. She licked and nipped at him in encouragement but held back the full extent of her desire, wanting his to take precedence. Soon his kisses fell off her lips, sliding down her chin, then neck as he caught her in large wet mouthfuls. Feeling that things were going to progress quickly, she grabbed his hands and slid off his lap, pulling him up and towards her bedroom. She wasn’t averse to fucking on the chairs but she also wanted to ensure that he had the room to do what he needed to.

Within seconds of entering the room, he had wandlessly removed their clothes and was lying on top of her, his eyes boring into hers as if, now that he had revealed himself, shown his pain, he needed reassurance that she was still with him. Without hesitation, she opened her legs to him and his fingers slithered up the inside of her thigh before stuttering over her lips and delving into her slick channel. Eyes shuttering, he sighed softly as if, somehow, he hadn’t expected her to be ready for him, to be dripping with desire as she was.

She knew he was sexually generous, often to a fault, but this time he wasn’t waiting to find out what she wanted, or even for an invitation. Grasping his cock by the shaft, he nestled his head in her tight entrance, lubricating it in the slippery pool of juice there before pushing into her.

“Merlin!” she breathed, her head arching back into the pillow as his hot mouth clamped onto the her neck.

“Uhhhhh.” Her abdomen clenched as he reamed into her, stretching her walls with each successive stroke. It took a protracted series of thrusts to bury his cock fully inside her, impeded by how tightly the muscles of her pussy squeezed and clenched at him. Parted lips undulating against her neck with each pump of his hips, his tongue laved at her pulse before receding back to allow his teeth to graze across her sensitive flesh.

Her breathy moans rent the air as he shifted position and started rocking with short, deep strokes inside her. It was as if her core was oscillating on the fulcrum of his cock and with his black eyes penetrating hers, she felt herself being profoundly impaled from both ends. The gentle thud of his head against her cervix felt as intimate as she could possibly imagine and when his mouth captured hers and his tongue pushed inside, mimicking the rhythmic pumping of his cock, she felt herself opening to him even further, another pillar of resistance crumbling away.

The unbridled lust that was suddenly unleashed, injected a level of desire into her actions that she didn’t know existed. Squirming under him, she spread her legs as wide as she could and curved her tailbone to give him even deeper access, while her pussy sucked at his unrelenting dick with each flexion of her hips.

“That’s . . . most . . . compelling . . . Dr Granger.” His normally flawless baritone, wavered as he squeezed the words out between thrusts.

But any further vocalisations were lost as she devoured his lips and tongue in her, now ravenous, feasting which had him moaning in acknowledgement of how much her lust was turning him on. Suddenly, he rose from her and rocked back onto his knees, bringing her pussy with him. Her backside was now off the bed, nestled against his balls and her ankles were lifted onto his shoulders.

Grasping her by the hips, he was perfectly positioned to deliver a series of immensely forceful thrusts, pulling out fully before ramming back into her. And the angle of his cock had his fleshy helmet reaming along the front wall of her channel, bumping across her G-spot on every pass. The keening moans that rose from her chest turned intermittently tremulous each time he bottomed out inside her.

The way that he was expertly working her, lifting, rocking and driving, added to her sense of abandon. At that point she was willing to let him take her however he wished. But, despite the comforting lightness that came with giving over control, she was still concerned at the distance she felt from him in that position and also unsure of whether he was gearing up to pull out again. Those concerns, however, quickly shrank into a mere thread of consciousness as he placed two fingers together onto her labia and clitoris, rubbing them hard as he gathered momentum.

Between her cries, she could hear his breathing, laboured from the effort, but also his mounting grunts of desire. The tension in her pelvis reached epic proportions as the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of her hip. Clutching the bedcovers into her fists, her head rocked to the side and she started a long, rising moan. But just before her pussy exploded, he released the pressure on her clit and pulled her up into his arms, hooking both hands under her cheeks and thrusting deeply into her, their bodies pressed tightly together, eyes fused.

He had brought her so close to the edge that his gentle rocking in this position, pelvic bone gyrating against her clitoris, gradually, exquisitely, tipped her over the edge. The stretching of time around her release made her mouth fall open and he grasped her hair with one hand, pulling her head back to lock onto her mouth, devouring her moan as her body began to quake and convulse around him.

Clutching at his neck, she shuddered as the muscles of her core squeezed in seismic waves around his unyielding column, buried inside her like the sword in the stone. He fought, trying to drag his cock against the tide of her contractions until it became impossible to hold back. Grasping her buttocks tightly with both hands, he pulled her down and simultaneously thrust as deeply into her as he could.

“Uhhh . . . Hermione,” he groaned into her ear as he came, pushing over and over into her channel as his seed sprayed in pulsing streams, coating her insides.

Breathing in short, shuddering gasps she opened her eyes to see his tangled locks falling across his flushed and exhausted face. But she also saw something else. A peace. A calm that made him appear almost serene. Leaning forward, he kissed her deeply, cock nestled inside her as their hearts thundered together. His tender lips moved gently against hers in what felt to Hermione like the culmination of their intimacy before he gently lowered her back onto the bed. Collapsing, he pulled her onto his chest where she lay, moist and musky, melding with him and riding the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. Her mind floated on the blissful silence, meandering without purchase on anything but the intense connection she felt.

Suddenly his husky voice rose into the stillness.

“He never trusted my mind.”

“Who?” Her voice sounded small against his.

“Voldemort. He knew that I could create what I wanted him to see. I could protect people with my thoughts.” He inhaled deeply. “He despised me for it. But also knew he needed to keep me close. I was too useful.”

She waited quietly for him to continue.

“So to punish and, ultimately, control me, he would search the minds of others. If he found any evidence of attachment to me, kindness, love, he would destroy them. He would destroy them to get to me. That was how he assured my compliance and isolation. There were certain people in his inner sanctum that he killed, slowly, painfully, in my presence, simply for caring about me.”

He paused and swallowed.

“So I couldn’t afford to allow anyone to get close. For their own safety, I would push them away. Voldemort considered that if he drove people from me and forced me to isolate myself, with no one to turn to, I would go to him, I’d need him more. Also, a man without attachments is one with nothing to lose. He relished the thought that he might desolate me sufficiently, deaden me emotionally, to the point that I could be the killing machine that he wanted.”

“One of his favourite torments was to tell me what he found in Lily Potter’s mind before he destroyed her. To tell me that she used to love me despite my betrayal. How that was one of the reasons her death was so satisfying to him. He never knew of my feelings for her. They are some I kept the most hidden.”

“And Dumbledore. Despite my assurances, Voldemort suspected that he held some affection for me and he knew that destroying him would, amongst other things, isolate me further.”

Hermione closed her eyes, almost unable to bear the anguish in his voice.

“Despite everything, an element remained within me that desperately needed to help and protect. It battled on as I forced people to reject me, making life unbearable at times. And then there was the part of me that was so tormented by grief and loss that it instilled an intense desire to own, to keep and hide people away for myself, even if only in my mind. Finally, there was the part that needed to be wanted, to be . . . loved. They are all still here. Inside me. At war—a constant need to have and own, protect, hide, love and be loved and, then, to push away and deny. Of course, logically I know he’s gone but the fear, the terror that comes from genuine affection, kindness, and the physical manifestations through my own sexual gratification can be . . . almost too much to bear.”

Hermione’s tears leaked steadily onto his bare skin. His traumatic conditioning had been so profound that it clearly defied all level of reasoning. She’d seen it before, just never on this scale. Rising from his chest, she placed her hand on his cheek and turned his face to hers.

“Severus, I care deeply for you,” she said, her eyes searching his. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
- 15
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- 17
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In Their Hands *Complete*

In Their Hands Complete