Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 130141 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
A/N: Soo this past Monday I broke my wrist and I will be having surgery this afternoon. Apparently I did a great job of breaking it. I typed half this chapter with one hand which was fun, heh! Hopefully the next update will be timely, and thanks foe the reviews! It's always lovely hearing from you all.

Snape's internal timing woke him the next morning. He turned his head and groaned, still feeling as if he had been run over by a lorry. Doggedly opening his eyes, he looked down and saw a small hand lying at a skewed angle on top of his chest, palm side down with its fingers relaxed and curved over.

Looking to his right, he found Hermione lying on her stomach and burrowed beneath the covers. Her hair was the only thing visible, as half of it concealed her face while the other half was fanned out and spread over the pillow.

Gently removing Hermione's hand from his chest and tucking it beneath the duvet, Snape sat up in bed, stretching and wincing when he felt the renewed ache in his muscles. Having his arse handed to him by a megalomaniac wizard didn't help, but being surrounded by children between the ages of eleven and eighteen reminded him on a daily basis just how old he really was. To his annoyance, the younger the youths, the more they ran and jumped and screamed and shouted. Snape's saving grace was usually his stern features. All it took was The Look or a slight baring of his crooked teeth that sent the frolicking students nearly falling over themselves to quickly prance the hell away from him.

Snape was faster than he looked, though, and could outrun even the youngest of his pupils if he was so inclined. However, no one need know that small detail. In any event, he still felt every bit of his thirty-six years, particularly after a long night of bowing to the business end of the Dark Lord's wand.

Moving out of bed and leaving Hermione behind, Snape grabbed his wand from his bedside table, put on his robe and shuffled his way into the front room. Sitting down and flicking his wand at the hearth, Snape toyed with the idea of summoning breakfast.

Sod it, he thought. He wasn't all that hungry, and his usually needed first cup of tea could wait. Purely because it was a holiday and there were no classes to teach, Snape was able to temporarily put off the liquid sustenance. Without that cup of tea, or coffee, if he felt like it, in the mornings, there was no telling what sort of mood he would be in, although Snape was sure his colleagues would claim that he only had two moods: bastard and son of Apollyon.

During his early days of teaching, McGonagall had accosted him in the Great Hall before he had been able to firmly set one arsecheek down onto his chair. She had begun griping about one of his students, a sixth-year boy that was prone to harmless mischief, who had Transfigured her entire supply of pins into lizards. McGonagall had nattered on and on, complaining about how she had been surprised that morning when she unlocked her classroom and found a congregation of the tiny green reptiles scattered about.

Snape wanted to grouse about not giving a damn about a few lizards, that surely a witch of her level—he knew not to mention age else she would be sure to hex him and leave him for dead between the respective platters of eggs and kippers—could handle a situation like so.

Instead, he had remained silent and glared back at the Gryffindor Head of House. His brooding look had been enough warning for McGonagall to purse her lips, but she did turn around and leave him alone. Perhaps she had somehow known that Snape had been five seconds from telling her that he personally was going to cancel his first Potions class to head down the Charms corridor and gather up every last bloody lizard from her classroom and have them delivered to her study if she didn't shut up and pass the English Breakfast.

Snape knew that some of his students could be little shits, but it was no excuse for him to be inconvenienced in the mornings. He expected stupidity and shenanigans from his students, considering that most witches and wizards of a tender age had all the sense of a goose egg and the subtlety of a pack of trolls. But it was the idiocy from the adults that made him lament. Perhaps if they weren't all so annoying, his attitude would take a turn for the lighter.

No. That would never happen.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, Snape decided that he could do with that tea right about now.

You're fickle as a fifth-year witch, he told himself as he stood up to toss some Floo powder into the hearth and summoned a house-elf. Twenty minutes later, Snape had his tea along with a tray of breakfast for him and the snoring Gryffindor still in his bed.

"You ought to see a doctor about that," Snape drawled thirty minutes later. He was sipping on his second cup of the steaming hot brew when he sensed Hermione standing behind him. "Last I check, the support beams down here were quite adequate, but you are more than welcome to hold up the wall if you prefer."

Hermione sniffed as she crossed into the room and sat across from Snape. "What do you, have eyes in the back of your head? And what do you mean, I ought to see a doctor. A doctor for what?"

"To irrigate your sinuses," he replied indifferently while pointing at the tray on the table. "Eat."

Hermione scowled at Snape, but she shuffled off the armchair to kneel beside the table. "My sinuses are fine, thank you very much," she tartly replied, piling toast, bacon and eggs onto her plate and fixing a cup of tea.

"So you say, Miss Granger."

"Hmph. Funny how my sinuses were fine before. Now all of a sudden they're a problem."

Hermione told herself that Snape was taking the piss; she knew she didn't snore. Slowly eating her breakfast, she switched her thoughts to everything that happened the night before. Snape was two hundred percent correct when he said that no matter what, he would have to continue carrying out whatever it was he was sworn to do.

Hermione still wasn't sure exactly what her tasks entailed. Usually when she had to do something, she only found out about said thing moments before it happened. Nothing was ever planned out, and it was a bit of an amazement that they had all made it this far. Harry had been running off to meet with Dumbledore at arbitrary times, yet he hadn't shared any of what they talked about.

"Severus?" Hermione asked. She had just finished her meal and was drinking the last of her tea.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind if I...why did you stop giving Harry Occlumency lessons last year?"

Hermione swore she could see Severus's jaw clench, and he seemed to be carefully constructing an answer.

"Because he's an insolent little sneak-thief," Snape snapped, growing hot under the collar as he thought about how Potter had snuck his way into his Pensieve and viewed something unintended for his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

Hermione gave a little shrug, as if she regretted asking the question in the first place and was trying to feign disinterest. "I remember Harry saying that he had the hang of Occlumency, but I don't think I ever believed him. I guess I was wondering if it was something he still needed to know."

Snape looked at Hermione searchingly. "What makes you say that?"

"I mean...You-Know-Who was able to project thoughts into Harry's subconscious, make him see things even if they weren't real. I know how they were connected, and I know that you need eye-to-eye contact to use Legilimency, but what if something happened and I were to be near....you know. What if he saw my memories of us?"

"I have considered that," Snape replied thoughtfully. "What I can tell you is that is most likely the least of your worries. I know you are going to bristle at this, but some wizards deem the mind of a half-blood witch or wizard useless. It is highly unlikely that one would sully their mind by trying to ascertain thoughts from a Muggle-born witch. You would be insignificant to him in that aspect."

"Well..." Hermione trailed off, "I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't relieved. I don't even think I'm insulted by that asinine notion. But if they think that blood status is synonymous with intelligence, then the joke is on them."

Snape was in agreement with that point. In his life he had come across a slew of clueless pureblood witches and wizards, as well as brilliant Muggle-born witches and wizards, Hermione being one of them. Blood status truly had no bearing on one's intelligence. He had met plenty of purebloods that definitely could be taken down a peg or two, however, many of whom he shared classes with. Some of them were so pompous it was hard to see around their inflated egos, although Snape remembered with perfect clarity how brainless they had been back in school. If only he could have brewed and bottled intelligence and charged five Galleons per ounce...

"I still don't like the idea that someone could just barge their way into my head," Hermione was now mumbling rhetorically. "I see why Harry felt so violated."

Violated is an understatement, Snape ruminated inwardly. Potter had blatantly gone into his Pensieve and watched some of the most painful memories of his life, memories that he never spoke about but would never forget. Had he not caught the brat in time, he definitely would have gotten the full Monty.

"You figured out how to brew Polyjuice Potion your second year, as well as a successfully using Protean Charm last year. Though it's a shame you were unable to teach Potter Occlumency, at least I would have been able to keep my evenings free," Snape said ruefully.

"Well..." Hermione spluttered. "I wouldn't even know where to start!"

"As if that has ever stopped you before," he replied.

A pensive look crossed Hermione's face when Snape moved suddenly, whipping his wand out and pointing it at her. She just heard him cast, "Legilimens!" without any sort of warning, and gave a loud yelp as memories began flashing past her eyes.

Hermione hugging her parents the very last time she saw them before leaving for Grimmauld Place that summer...Standing in her Polyjuiced form and clinging to a shelf in Flourish and Blotts, watching as chaos ensued around her as she was suddenly grabbed from behind, becoming so frightened that she nearly became sick onto the floor...Crouched on the sofa in the dark of Snape's room at Grimmauld Place, attempting to hug the frowning wizard for the first time, only for him to pull away from her and put her out of his room...Fingers white at the knuckle as she dug them into Severus' arms...tears running down her cheeks as she cried out in pain the night she gave him her virginity... Her and Ginny rounding on Harry as they tried to pry the illicit Potions textbook out of his hand...McLaggen attempting to back her against the wall at Slughorn's party and letting out an 'oof!' of pain as she stomped on his foot and ran away...

"Noo!" Hermione cried out when the spell was finally lifted. Breathing hard and fervently clutching onto her head, she tried to regain control of her senses. Unaware that she had tumbled out of her chair, Hermione opened her eyes to find that she was almost kneeling on the floor. Her nightgown was twisted around her ankles, and it was clear that she had been about to hit her head on the floor had Snape not caught her in time.

"Has your curiosity been whetted?" he asked smoothly, his sallow, thin-lipped face hovering over hers. "Or shall I do it again?"

Hermione was shaking and unable to speak. It had been hard, much harder than she thought to throw Severus off. Even though she hadn't actually tried to prevent him from seeing her memories, as there wasn't much she had worth hiding, it had been uncomfortable to have him freely rooting about her head.

"I...I don't—" she stammered, still barely able to get a word out. God strike her dead if she ever attempted to nag Harry for something that she had no experience with. Snape's magic was every bit unyielding and relentless as his personality, and she understood why Harry had such difficulty repelling it.

She hated that feeling of not being in control. It was one thing for your body to refuse to cooperate, such as accidentally sitting the wrong way and your foot falling asleep, rending one unable to walk for awhile. But being unable to use her mind the way she wanted...

When Snape turned his wand on her, it was if she had been forced to watch certain events of her life replay before her very eyes, only she had been able to feel each companying emotion that went with each memory. Had it been anyone else that boldly took the liberty of dashing through her memories with the ease one would use to read a book or watch the telly, she definitely would have felt violated. Especially considering the one memory that involved her and Snape not wearing any clothes, and her lying beneath him.

Snape pulled Hermione to her feet and guided her back into the armchair. She was so shaken up by the unexpected yet brief attack on her mind, that she never noticed the calculating look he was giving her. Snape's brain rapidly extracted bits of information and put them together, yet he was shrewd enough to keep it to himself for the time being.

"I don't know how you do it," said Hermione. She had finally calmed down, and was curled up in the armchair with her feet tucked beneath her. "That was harder than I thought it would be."

"Ah, finally you understand that everything isn't as cut and dry as you believe it to be," Snape told her.

"Well, I know that," Hermione replied. "I currently have a very good Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who let us know in no uncertain terms that our education for said subject also lies beyond the pages of a book."

"Your teacher sounds as if he knows what he's talking about," Snape drawled. "Hopefully the rest of your classmates take heed of his words, although there's a better chance that Binns would voluntarily give up teaching first."

"Hmm, or maybe Professor Trelawney will cut back on the cooking sherry," Hermione added, wrinkling her nose for emphasis.

"Not bloody likely," Snape muttered, shaking his head in disgust.

An hour later, Snape put Hermione out of his room, explaining that he had something to do. Hermione didn't mind, figuring that she should show face in Gryffindor Tower just in case her Head of House came around.

That brief worry had been for naught, as McGonagall only came to the dormitory when something was amiss. The common room was quiet, and Hermione settled into a squashy armchair. The earlier conversation with Snape left her on edge, which in turn made Hermione dig out her copy of Confronting the Faceless. She sat with the textbook splayed open on her lap, poring over the first chapter, even though she had already read the book front to back, as well as all the addendums.

Crookshanks had made his way down from the dormitory and settled on top her legs, deeming her shins an appropriate place for a nap.

Keeping still so as not to disrupt her cat, Hermione continued going through her book at a moderate pace. Chapter three was dedicated to a plethora of ways on blocking curses and the like, including stances to take and complicated looking way to wave your wand.

This is rubbish, Hermione snapped to herself. What good would it do if a Death Eater had grabbed onto your hair and held his wand to your throat? What then, should you wave your wand in a three-sixty degree angle and poke him in the eye with it? Or perhaps use a grand sweeping gesture a la Lockhart, practically warning your opponent of your next move? Leave it to Lockhart, he would have had us believe that his ugly turquoise robes held protective enchantments in the fibers.

It was clear that whoever wrote many of the textbooks were working on theory alone, as it seemed they had never actually experienced duelling or hand-to-hand combat. Unorthodox Snape's teaching methods may be, Hermione found that she learned more from him than a book. Not to mention the DA meetings she and her friends had the previous school year. If not for those meetings, then there had been no telling what the outcome would have been when they all fought the Death Eaters.

Snape seemed not to mind teaching someone so long as they were willing to listen, and Hermione wondered if he would be able to give her some more pointers. If being Harry Potter's friend taught her nothing, it was that she needed to be prepared across all fronts.

Speaking of Harry...she missed him and Ron and Ginny. Hopefully Harry and Ginny had been able to spend time with one another without Ron's ginger head poking up every other minute. Hermione had worried that Ginny was going to seriously hex her brother one day if he kept up with being a nuisance.

One evening, Ginny confided to Hermione that she once thought Lavender was the sort that had to get naked just to count to ten. Hermione thought the statement was mean, and tried her best not to laugh. In all honesty, Lavender wasn't too bad. She was better than some of her fellow Gryffindors; in Care of Magical Creatures, she had been one of the few that actually remained behind when Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts had gotten loose and tried to attack the class.

That lesson had been hellish. They all ended up with burnt and torn school robes. Neville had gained a busted lip, which hadn't been the Skrewts fault so much as his own, as he had tripped over his own feet and took a dive headfirst onto the top of Hagrid's heavy shoes, which were nearly the size of the large pumpkins that grew in the back of his hut. Lavender never complained as she dodged one of the Skrewt's long stingers, although her best friend had been nothing but useless. Parvati had taken to fleeing and squealing worse than four-year-old who was beneath the threat of being chased by another child with a boogey on their finger.

Hermione's only brief run-in with Lavender had occurred right at the beginning of the school year. It was evident that the witch was getting sulky when she saw Ron and Hermione in the common room, their heads together as they went over a length of parchment. Lavender huffed and puffed until Ron looked up. Hermione tartly pointed out that she was helping Ron finish his homework, and unless Lavender was volunteering to take her place, then by all means to keep her mouth shut until they were done. Lavender's cheeks had blossomed slightly, and she mumbled something about having her own work to finish before scurrying off.

That entire exchange annoyed Hermione, but she had also been amused. She was hardly the 'girly' sort of witch, and to think that another felt threatened by her was an odd yet refreshing change.

It was obvious that someone else now felt threatened, only it was by an inanimate object. Crookshanks had woken up and grown tired of watching his human reading her book, and was now demanding attention.

"Move, Crooks," Hermione told her cat, who had crawled up her body and settled down on her chest. Hermione huffed, barely able to see her book over the furry ginger mound.

Crookshanks turned his head and focused his beady yellow eyes on Hermione's face before poking his tongue out and swiping it down the length of his leg. He then continued staring expectantly at her, as if mentally willing her to put her book down and get up from the sofa.

"I know that look. Alright then, if you get off my chest I can get your lunch."

With one last lingering look, Crookshanks slithered his way over Hermione's shoulder and jumped down onto the floor. He had been patient enough, watching her turn pages and muttering to herself until the hushed sounds lulled him asleep, but enough was enough. It was very well for her to read for hours on end. Sometimes she read so long that he had to bat his paws at her just to gain her attention. In extreme cases, prostrating himself on top of her feet or book was called for.

Crookshanks knew his mistress never meant any harm; she was the type that became so wrapped up in other activities that she sometimes forgot about everything else around her. He also noticed that as of late she smelled different, although the source of this new scent had yet to be discovered. Perhaps it had something to do with that fact that she had left him alone in her room for the past few days, but he didn't mind. During the day, the other humans let him out of the room, and the castle held an unending amount of nooks and crannies for him to hunt for mice and spiders. Whenever he was ready for a nap, her unoccupied bed was quite large and he had his pick of spots. Also, beneath her pillow was a suitable place to keep his toys (a handful of Butterbeer corks).

Food trumped thoughts of the empty bed/hiding place for corks, and Crookshanks tucked into his food dish that had been hastily filled with a swish of Hermione's wand.

"Is that better, Crookshanks?" Hermione asked, running her fingers through his fur as he ate. "Are you going to let me finish my book?"

Crookshanks was too busy chewing, and didn't bother with turning his head in Hermione's direction. Hermione, seeing that her familiar no longer had need of her as he had been fed and watered, walked back over to the sofa and sat down.

An three-day old copy the Daily Prophet had been left behind on the table, and Hermione reached over to pick it up between two fingers. Like always, the paper was filled with the same rubbish articles, giving superficial reports on the many people that had gone missing from the wizarding world. The way each story was written, people may as well have vanished into thin air.

The truth was quite clear to most as to the true events surround the wizarding world, but Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was fighting the proverbial tooth and nail to keep everything under wraps. True, even the smallest thing tended to send the masses into a frenzy of worry. But how long would the Ministry lie and placate? It was irrefutable: things would come to a head. It was a fact that couldn't be denied, no matter what the Ministry said or believed.

Hermione didn't know how things would play out in the future, and if she was being honest with herself, part of her didn't want to know. There were too many uncertain variables, which usually led to something catastrophic. Still, she vowed to stand by her best friend, although even she had to admit that this entire thing was bigger than him.

She wondered if Harry was sometimes working beneath the illusion that he had to be the one to single-handedly save everyone. Hermione didn't to say it, but inside she told herself that the mounting tension between Light and Dark, good and bad, had more to do with a single sixteen-year-old wizard. Furthermore, when small children lost their parents, they didn't understand that Harry Potter had failed at some mysterious task. All they knew was that mummy or daddy was gone, and would never come back.

The more Hermione read, the more worked up she became, until finally she had enough and tossed the Daily Prophet back onto the table.

"Should be the Daily Prevaricator," she mumbled under her breath.

As mad as Luna Lovegood's father's paper, The Quibbler, was, Hermione had to admit that as of late the stories in it were worth reading. Of course, said articles were next to or beneath something about Blibbering Humdingers or some other mythical creature. Xenophilius Lovegood was just as dotty as his daughter, but both were keener than everyone believed.

Speaking of keen wizards... Hermione wondered how everything with Snape was going to go once classes resumed. It was easy to sneak around now, taking into consideration that Hogwarts was mostly empty and the remaining teachers kept to themselves. Hermione still had yet to lay eyes on the headmaster. When she mentioned her observation to Severus, his face became a bit pinched yet he said nothing.

It was no matter, as she figured if there was something she needed to know, Severus would tell her.

Hermione spent the remainder of her holiday week with Snape. While she spent most of her days studying, all her nights ended with her falling asleep next to him. While the professor still seemed to be on edge, it usually took thirty minutes or so before he became relaxed in Hermione's presence.

Now it was the last day before the students were returning to Hogwarts, and Hermione was trying not to think about the fact that she would, once again, be sleeping alone.

"No doubt your bespeckled mate will return tomorrow evening, begging you to help him finish his assignments," Snape remarked without looking up from his book.

The two were in his study, sitting before the hearth and reading. It had been gloriously quiet until Snape made the remark about Ron. Hermione couldn't help the snort that erupted, as she knew the professor was most likely right.

"Does the boy do any homework on his own?" Snape went on to ask wryly. "Why am I asking that when I already know the answer."

"Yes, well, he starts it on his own," Hermione laughed. "Usually he'll ask me to check it over. Sometimes I make him let me check it over, else he'll just hand in any old thing."

"Gives new meaning to the phrase 'bone-idle'," Snape grunted. "No idea where he gets it from. I understood his parents were more of the studious type."

Hermione paused as she tried to think of a younger Mr and Mrs Weasley. She could picture them being the studious sort, even if they had a more relaxed attitude when it came to other things. Percy was the only one who seemed to have a ten-foot pole stuck up his arse. Even though Hermione had never been the 'life-of-the-party' type, even she knew a good joke upon hearing it. Percy Weasley, on the other hand... One could say that tapioca had more of a personality than Percy. Hermione had only spoken to him a few times, and even then each time he managed to bore her to tears.

"I have no idea, either, but I'll worry about that later," Hermione said, standing up and placing her book on the armchair cushion. "Do you mind if I shower? Moaning Myrtle was having a cry in the prefects' bath and I didn't want to intrude. Or arbitrarily get blamed for something that I didn't do."

Snape shook his head at mention of the ghost who sometimes took to weeping in inconvenient places and harassing unsuspecting students. Moaning Myrtle rarely came down to the dungeons, but Snape had heard his Slytherins talking about the ghost popping in on them while they were in the midst of bathing. A brief chat with the headmaster ensured that Myrtle refrained from doing so anymore.

"Go on," he now told Hermione, who began wrestling her curls into a bun atop her head while making her way to his bathroom.

After a few minutes of listening to Hermione moving about, he realised that instead of the shower running, he heard the bathtub being filled.

"Changed your mind?" he asked from the doorway of the bathroom. Hermione was lying back with her head on the round edge of the tub. The water filling the basin was clear, as Snape didn't take baths, but even if he did, perfumed bubbles wasn't something that he would willingly use. He wasn't that pouf, Lockhart, for Merlin's sake.

"I figured I might as well," Hermione replied, turning her head to look at him. "Why don't you get in with me? There's more than enough room."

"I prefer showers," Snape told her, standing stiffly with both arms folded across his chest.

"Oh, Severus, come on," Hermione wheedled with a grin. "You already hinted that there was no telling when I would be able to spend time like this with you again, so humour me. Please?"

"Will it put an end to your nagging?"

"Hmm, maybe. And I don't nag."

Snape shot her a derisive glare, but he did step into the bathroom. Untucking his white shirt from his trousers, he slowly removed everything and was soon completely naked.

"There, not so bad, is it?" Hermione asked, moving to the other end of the tub so he could slide in. "And you didn't even melt."

"Do be quiet, Miss Granger," Snape ordered smoothly, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

Snape couldn't remember the last time he bothered actually sitting in a tub. Showers were sufficient, as he was always rushing and preferred to get bathing over with quickly as possible. But the feel of the hot water lapping over his aching body, the heat soaking into his bones, was divine. He had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione was smiling at him from the other end of the tub, yet he was so relaxed that he couldn't be bothered to open his eyes and check.

Hermione was in fact rather giddy. She didn't know why she was so amused at the sight of Severus Snape sinking further into the water until the ends of his black hair became soaked, but perhaps it was because some of the lines of worry in his face seemed to have disappeared.

"I think he likes it," she said teasingly, sliding her foot through the water until her toes grazed the inside of Severus' thigh. His flaccid cock touched the top of her foot, and Hermione was unable to resist prodding it lightly with her big toe.

"Very nice," Snape drawled, catching Hermione's foot in one hand and tickling her instep with a finger.

"No!" Hermione shrieked, snatching her foot back as she was terribly ticklish. "I'll behave."

"You are physically unable to behave," Snape told her. "I'm sure your lips ache from merely uttering that untruth."

"Now that is not true," Hermione protested, sloshing the bath water around as she scooted closer to Severus. "Budge up," she said, pushing at his shoulder to sit behind him.

Severus moved forward to allow Hermione to move into place. Her small, wet breasts pressed into his back as she leaned against him and reached out to grab the soap from the holder. He was on the verge of asking what the hell she was doing when her hands began rubbing soap lather onto his back. Hermione's fingers were little but they were strong enough to melt some of the tension from his limbs.

Even though he hadn't said it, a million things had been weighing heavily on Snape's mind, even before Hermione came knocking at his door. He was in quite a snippy mood, even though it had nothing to do with her. Hermione had ignored the snark and curled up in her armchair with a book, remaining quiet until Snape had been first to break the silence.

They had no usual routine, although every night ended with them naked and covered in sweat, tangled up in his sheets. So when Hermione suggested that he join her in the bath, he figured what the hell. She took her time washing his back and hair, and now had both arms wrapped around his torso as she planted kisses along his damp shoulder.

Hermione ran her palms over the slim contours of Snape's chest, sliding them down until she reached his stomach. Down those little fingers traveled until they were beneath the water and touching the coarse hair between his legs.

Snape 's breathing deepened slightly, yet he didn't make a sound as Hermione's fingers enclosed around his semi-erect length. As she slowly stroked him to full attention, her other hand continued caressing his abdomen. Hermione was literally wrapped around him; her legs were on the outside of his thighs, her toes pressing into his skin, and she was holding him in a sort of bear hug. Every so often she would nuzzle her face against him before pressing a kiss onto his back or shoulder blade.

Hermione only stopped long enough to move in front of him. She was amazed that Severus was able to keep still as she explored his body. Whenever he touched her, even using the lightest of strokes, she found it hard to remain in one place. But he was enjoying her caresses; that much was evident.

Her knees flanked Severus' left thigh, and Hermione slipped both arms around his neck, resuming with kissing him all over. A quiet moan escaped his lips as Hermione's tongue darted across his pulse, and his arms instinctively went around her waist to pull her closer.

"Oh, that feels good," she sighed as his fingers slid down to her behind, gently squeezing and kneading the fleshy orbs. Severus lifted his thigh slightly while urging Hermione's hips further down, encouraging her to rub herself against him.

"Touch me," he said in a low voice, grasping her left hand and pressing it down against his cock.

While Hermione continued fisting the heavy length beneath the still hot bath water, Severus brushed his lips against hers until she opened her mouth. Just as his tongue flicked out at hers, his grasp tightened on her body and he helped her rock against him in a steadier rhythm.

Hermione moaned softly, all the while continuing to kiss Severus. The waterlogged hair covering his slim thigh pressed against her folds, and each time she slid her hips back, the hood of her clit was stimulated. Just as Hermione was about to press herself harder against him, Severus shifted her off his leg and rose slightly to sit on the edge of the tub. Water ran down his open legs, and his ruddy-tipped erection pointed straight in her direction.

"Suck me, Hermione. I want to feel your mouth."

Those words alone made Hermione tremble, and she eagerly rose to her knees and moved between Severus' legs. Grasping his length in one hand, she wasted no time in sucking him into the heated cavern of her mouth, making Severus' legs twitch slightly.

Hermione loved the feel of him in her mouth. She loved the way he moaned as her tongue swirled around the head of his cock just before engulfing it completely with a small sucking noise. He never grabbed on her head or tried to force her to go deeper.

She had gotten confident enough to experiment and try to see what Severus liked best. Usually she was rewarded with a deep groan and a slight writhing of his narrow hips. Severus was now doing both, although he hunched over to cup one of her breasts in his hand, his long fingers tweaking its nipple.

Riding Severus' thigh had excited her, but now his groans combined with his fingers playing with her nipple sent little jolts of pleasure to her clitoris. Without losing the rhythm of her mouth and tongue licking and sucking at him, Hermione shifted her weight in the bathwater to spread her thighs. While the hard bottomed tub was uncomfortable against her knees, she ignored it, desperate to quell the ache in her throbbing clit.

Hermione still had a mouthful when she let out a deep moan. Severus opened his eyes long enough to see the little witch's hand buried between her thighs, frantically rubbing herself. The sight was a treat for his eyes. His vantage point allowed him to view Hermione touching herself, as well as her soft lips wrapped around his cock. Just when he was trying to hold off his release, Hermione sucked hard enough that her cheeks hollowed inward, while her saliva soaked fingertips massaged little circles into the sensitive patch behind his balls.

Severus sharply inhaled as his body jerked against Hermione. He wanted to warn her but suspected that she knew he was about to come. Either way, he cried out as his cock pulsated and shot out its release right into her mouth. Hermione never stopped, and his legs were trembling when he finally urged her head away.

"That wasn't too bad," she said with a thoughtful look on her face. "The taste, that is."

"I'm sure you taste better," Snape chuckled hoarsely. "Now, let's continue this in the bedroom."

The two had barely dried off once they were in Snape's room. He flicked his wand at the hearth and the orange glow filled the front of the room. Another few flicks, and an armchair and ottoman were before the hearth.

Hermione was still clutching her damp towel around her body when Snape pushed her down into the armchair. He sat on the ottoman before her and grasping onto her legs, pulled her closer until her bum was still on the towel, yet at the edge of the armchair.

The throbbing between her legs had never stopped; it surprisingly intensified when she heard Severus cried out as he came in her mouth. Now his dark head was buried between her legs, the ends of his damp hair tickling her skin as he nibbled along her inner thigh.

Hermione held onto the sides of the armchair, desperate to not buck her hips and smack Severus in the face. But he seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting her, as he was now tracing the tip of his pointer between her folds. Biting her lip and looking down, Hermione was able to see the moisture clinging to his fingertip in the glow of the fire.

Her entire body felt heated, and Hermione knew it had little to do with the hearth. In and out, up and down, that long finger went, pausing briefly to circle around the tight nub of her clit. Mewling and writhing with increasing frustration, Hermione attempted to push her pelvis into Snape's face.

"Be still," he ordered silkily, using one forearm to keep her pelvis in place.

Hermione nearly howled, but she tried her best to keep still. Somehow she had slid further down in the armchair until her back was on the edge of the cushion, yet she had both feet braced on Severus' ottoman.

The wizard continued his languorous, torturous exploration on her body, until Hermione was wrought with need. By that point, she was unable to keep from trembling each time Severus touched a particularly sensitive area. His fingers were embedded in her slick heat, rubbing and pressing into the sensitised flesh. Yet just before Hermione was about to come, he would stop and she would cry out in anguish.

"What have I ever done to you?!" she spat, slapping both hands onto the armchair and trying to not claw holes into the leather. The towel beneath her was bunched up and soaked with the continuously running juices of her denied orgasm, and Hermione knew Severus was about to see tears if he didn't let her come soon.

"Shush," Snape told her, sounding unrepentant. "Pinch your nipples, keep them hard for me. And don't close your eyes."

Hermione was a bit shy at the prospect of actually watching Severus, but she was so turned on and desperate and needy that she was willing to do whatever he said. Soon as she began rolling her nipples between her thumb and pointer, Snape lowered his head and softly ran his tongue over her engorged sex.

Hermione yelped at the contact, but made sure to keep her eyes open. Severus used to fingers to separate her folds, while using two fingers on the other hand to massage her fluttering walls. It was too much to bear, and it felt like the slightest touch would send her over.

She watched intently as soft, thin lips gently capturing the hood of her clit, pursing around it and sucking lightly before letting go. By the fifth suck Hermione was panting with impatience and pinching her nipples so hard she was in danger of breaking a delicate blood vessel.

Heaven forgive her if she ever spoke ill of snakes. Severus' dark eyes shone up at her as his tongue darted back out and flicked at her clit. Using the flattened side, he ran it in broad, sweeping circles across her stiffened bud. His fingers were subtlety shifting inside her, moving just so to keep her on edge, yet it was that warm lapping tongue that caught her unawares and rapidly brought her to a screaming, shaking, and very wet, climax.

Hermione came so hard that she forgot every one of Severus' previous directions; she couldn't look at him, much less keep her eyes open, and her hands were fisted into his hair. Her walls tightened to the brink of pain before breaking off into strong spasms that made her tense from head to toe with each one. He continued licking and fingering her well past the point of sanity, causing Hermione to nearly jerk out of his grasp .

When the pulsing against his lips and chin tapered off, Severus sat up. He still had two fingers inside Hermione, and her walls gripped him just as strongly as he brought her a second release. The witch's chest was heaving and she was completely limp by the time he pulled her hips into his lap, replacing his fingers with the blunt tip of his cock and slowly pushing inside her.

Hermione was scrunched in an awkward position in the armchair, her head almost buried in its cushions. Besides getting dizzy she suddenly felt completely overwhelmed, and tried bracing herself to sit up.

"Alright?" Severus asked after he grasped onto Hermione's shoulders and helped her up.

Hermione buried her face in his neck and wordlessly nodded her head. Severus was still deeply embedded inside her, although his body was still. HIs dark eyes remained focused on Hermione's face, only closing when she pressed both hands against his gaunt cheeks and pulled him towards her for a kiss.

Severus found himself completely ensnared by the witch is his lap. She had let go of his face and slid her arms around his neck, sliding her fingers through his hair as they kissed. Even though he was still perched on the low, round ottoman, Hermione had wrapped her legs around his slender waist, her ankles locked at the small of his back.

When she wanted more, Hermione rocked her hips against his, urging Severus to move. He needed little encouragement and began pushing back into her. Because of their seated position, Snape was unable to lunge deeply as he normally would have, yet his slow, shallow thrusting seemed to have just as great an effect on Hermione.

Their noses were nearly touching, and Hermione's breath was warm against Severus' cheek. His long fingers bit into her hips, pressing almost deeply enough to leave bruises as he pulled the back witch to meet his every stroke.

Hermione was barely aware of the way she was clutching onto Severus. The feel of him in her arms was incredible, although it was difficult to say who was holding onto whom. Severus had moved his hands from her hips, and now had one hand at the nape of her neck and the other splayed across her lower back. Slowly his body rocked against hers, and the angle they were sitting in caused the tip of his cock to repeatedly stroke a spot that made Hermione breathless. Scared that he would stop if she moved, Hermione kept her hands firmly rooted to the slim curve of Severus' back, although she was tempted to slide them down to his behind and beckon him to go deeper.

Hermione was unaware that she was trembling in Severus' arms, but it was clear to him that she was on the brink of release. She was wet enough that it made a noticeable sound each time he plunged forward.

Fuck! he groaned inwardly. At first he had gone slowly because he planned on a repeat performance at some point that night, and he didn't want to make Hermione sore. But now the unhurried pace was sort of necessary. Between listening to Hermione beautifully calling out his name while her silken sheath gripped his cock, Severus was two seconds from taking her hard and fast. She felt so good that if it were possible, he would bury all of himself inside her.

Hermione's breath began coming in sharp little pants. Severus ground his hips against hers, and it was enough to set her orgasm off. The little witch was demanding as she clutched her lover against her, refusing to let go even after the waves of her climax tapered off.

Using that to his advantage, Severus easily lifted Hermione from the armchair and carrying her to his bed, placed her directly in the center. Her hair had come undone (alright, he loosened the bun when she was too distracted to notice) and was now strewn about the top of his duvet in all its frizzy glory. Her lips were swollen and a bit flushed from sucking him off and then getting nibbled on when they kissed— and it all made Hermione look even more alluring.

"Are we finished?" she was now asking Snape in a tone of desperation, sounding as if she wanted more.

"Not even a little bit," he replied.

Snape moved on top of Hermione, and his wet cock was pressing against her slick core. As much as he enjoyed being inside her, he also found pleasure in merely looking at her, especially when she was staring back at him as if he was the only person that mattered at the moment.

"Severus?" Hermione asked, lifting both hands to his shoulders and trying to pull him closer. "Kiss me, please?"

"Aren't you polite," he teased in a rich baritone, lowering his head to brush his lips against hers. "Where do you want to be kissed?"

"Anywhere. Wherever you want," Hermione sighed as she closed her eyes.

Snape allowed his weight to fully settle on top of Hermione, although she didn't complain. She began moaning softly as his lips pressed gentle kisses onto her temple, her cheeks, the delicate line of her jaw, and then her lips. Sliding down a bit, he moved on to the hollow of her throat, the jutting line of both collarbones, and the scar between her breasts.

That last kiss surprised Hermione, and she opened her eyes. However, her vision soon became blurred when Severus began nuzzling his face between her breasts, then shifting his head over to suck on an erect nipple. The sensation made her spine arch, and he slid one hand beneath her body to stroke her back.

A fleeting thought crossed Hermione's mind; she almost wanted to hate all other witches that came before her that had been intimate with the professor. Her professor.

If she had actually uttered that notion about being jealous, Snape would have laughed at her. Not a chuckle, but a full out laugh. He had never taken his time exploring a woman the way he was currently doing to Hermione, as he had never met the inclination to do so. Here and now was a different story. Snape was caught up in every little nuance; he was mesmerised by the different expressions that crossed Hermione's face whenever he did something she liked, and her little moans and gasps were enticing.

While it was hard to forget that he shouldn't even have his arms full of the naked and sweetly swooning young witch, Snape had to admit that he was glad all the same.

Young men gossiped just as much if not more than their female counterparts. Often a topic of discussion was comparing witches from different Houses. Snape had the misfortune of overhearing the mind-numbing, IQ-lowering prattle on more than one occasion. Surprisingly, Granger's name had come up, and one of the bawdy youths suggested that she had a knee-locking charm in place, and that if she did finally take her nose out of a book to give someone a chance, that she would come to bed with a written list of instructions and still would most likely be colder than the Ice Queen.

Insipid idiots.

Not that anyone would ever find out, but Hermione turned out to be just as passionate, if not more, than an older witch with more experience. While some of her attempts had been fumbling, she reacted to Snape with great enthusiasm and he found that she was quite amorous. Even when they weren't connected at the hip, Hermione's hands would almost always end up in his hair or touching some other part of his body. It seemed that she enjoyed sleeping with him just as much as sleeping next to him, And kissing...well, she had definitely changed his mind about that.

Now she was writhing about and clutching onto his shoulders and he lightly nipped and traced his tongue over the curve of her hip.

"No more," Hermione suddenly told him, propping herself up on both elbows and looking down. "Stop toying with me, unless you want me to explode."

"You were the one that wanted to be kissed," Snape replied unrepentantly, using his lips to work his way back up the length of her body. "It's not my fault that you weren't specific. Besides, you liked it, so stop complaining."

"Oh, alright, you have a point," Hermione laughed, curling one leg around Severus. "But I want you."

"You have me, witch," Snape said in a low, rumbly voice as he covered Hermione's lips with his.

She was still so wet that he was able to enter her hands-free and with ease, and Hermione whimpered into his mouth at the feel of being penetrated. This time around, Severus moved within her faster, and Hermione was soon melting in his arms.

Severus reached down to cup Hermione's bottom in his hands, tilting her hips up and making sure to stroke that spot which never failed to make her scream. His lips were firmly planted at the side of her neck. Hermione's skin was clean from their previously shared bath and tasted faintly of salt, yet her familiar sweet scent remained and Snape took a deep whiff. His teeth and tongue worried the area right below her ear, and he was sure he was going to leave a love bite like some horrid schoolboy, but he didn't care. Some perverse part of him wanting to see his mark on Hermione's skin. He wanted to stake his claim, and that was one small way to do so.

Hermione had her arms around his waist, and she was palming and squeezing his arse and he plunged into her. She didn't give a damn about expressing her want, which was also clearly displayed on her face.

"Oh gods, Severus, you feel so damned good!" she moaned into his hair, which she had a faceful of.

Hermione's fingers were clutching and squeezing anywhere she could reach, and she was trying to brace her feet flat on the bed to push her hips higher. But Severus kept moving in a way that threw her off, and shortly after, it took one sharp rotation of his pelvis and Hermione was instantly overcome. A guttural cry tore from her throat, mingling with a low growl from Severus as he quickly followed behind.

Long after their breathing returned to normal, Severus remained on top of Hermione, lightly kissing the corner of her mouth. Hermione lie with her eyes closed, idly stroking his damp back and making sounds like a well-fed kitten.

"I'd rather those sounds than your snoring," Severus mumbled into her ear.

"You're lucky I'm knackered else I'd..." Hermione's words were cut off by a wide yawn. She felt Severus roll off her, and after he pulled her into his side and began stroking her hair, the last thing on her mind was finishing her statement.
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Unintentional Inveiglement