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The Quickening	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 32428 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
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- 30
A/N: Well if you made it through the last few chapters, I’m grateful. There was a point to them, in case it felt like some sort of gratuitous attempt to antagonise. In reality, this whole story has been an exploration of concepts that interest me like judgement, culpability, agency and the sorts of justifications we are willing to accept. Also, the idea of sex in its myriad forms with intentions ranging from lust and love to dominance and even bravery, I find fascinating. I’m interested in what people find challenging and the types of ambiguity and dissonance that stories can create.
But the main reason for the previous chapters was to provide the shade for the light at the end. I’m pretty sure there is only one chapter after this but this whole story has pretty well written itself so I guess I will find out. Happy reading.
LeWyKi – good to hear from you. I suspected some might bunker down for the rough bits. I’m glad you came through. I loved your quote, ‘Everybody said it was impossible, after all - ask anyone, they all knew it was impossible. Then someone came along who did not know that - and he simply did it’ - where was that from? It resonates with a lot in life where you can often see the limits and boundaries when you know too much but when you launch into something without that understanding, something special can happen. In fact, I love how you seem to make effortless connections between what you read and the other literary/artistic works that you obviously relish. I would love to hear more.
Lovey_Reader – your review made me teary (I have been pretty emotional the last few days). I’m glad you hated Violetta, so did I. But I needed her to be bad enough to justify Severus’ actions. Death by sex – hahah – maybe but perhaps without a Confringo up the twat! Your words of support were just the permission I needed to write this chapter today. My heart was heavy for a number of reasons but I felt so much better knowing that people will stay with the story (and perhaps trust me) no matter what. I do have another story in mind. It will be quite different from this in storyline (I think) but always SS/HG. Thank you again.
SapphireDreams – I love how you have read this all in one go (I haven’t yet!) – I hope the storyline is consistent. SS is my favourite too. I hope your insides are gooey in a good way.
Oracle_Obscured – I’m so glad you could see past the angst to the sweetness in the last chapter. I did have thoughts of a naked Severus hunting down Lucius (maybe it’s a chapter I can insert at a later date?). Yes I had to look up the ‘pump trolley’ – it was happy with that too. Neapolitan ice-cream was exactly what I was thinking of but wasn’t sure of the Wizarding equivalent. I did labour the hanky thing but I wanted it to be significant at the end. Wrackspurt – hahah – I had to look that up. I think I get that a lot. Hope you are feeling better. By the way, this chapter is for you.
Chapter 29
Severus held Hermione tightly as they stumbled down the steps to Malfoy Manor. The fresh air hit them like a welcome stranger and their eyelids fluttered in grateful ecstasy against the watery sunlight. Severus’ strong arm pulled Hermione to his side, as he practically carried her along the path. Her relieved and exhausted muscles had jellified, welcoming his firm guidance. It felt almost miraculous to have him pressed against her again.
They had barely spoken since he had broken into the cell and blasted the shackles from her wrists, his patronus—the steadfast and nurturing doe—dissolving away upon his arrival. Instead they had kissed, all over one another’s faces, tasting and soothing in equal measure.
When they were through the gates and approaching the apparition point, she felt it safe to ask,
“What happened to the purple nutcase?”
Severus was moving quickly but his speech was barely impacted. “We won’t have to contend with her any more.” He pronounced ‘contend’ ‘cunt end’ but she could tell by the grim line of his mouth that he wasn’t joking.
“And Lucius?”
“He was gone.”
“Do you think he left her on purpose?”
“Perhaps.” Severus wrapped his robes around her at the apparition point. “I did, however, take the opportunity to hex the sex toys in his bedroom. Let’s just say that the next time he uses them, they will require surgical removal.”
And with that they disapparated back to Hogwarts.
***
They lay naked on his bed with as much skin touching as possible. She rested upon his chest, her head nestled under his chin. As her cheek absorbed the rhythmic tympany of his heart, she had an almost womblike sense of nurturing protection from him. They had done nothing more than touch one another, revelling in their closeness—a potent antidote to the pain of their separation.
The euphorically sensate nature of their melding was such that any distinction between their forms was no longer possible. They were conjoined, in delicate balance with a singular fulcrum, their essences mutually exchanged and shared. And the only indication of an interface between their bodies were the humid crevices that flashed with tiny sinuous bolts, like stormy microcosms, the blue sparks licking from her skin over his, easing, soothing and healing his wounds.
But even that couldn’t compare to the emotional healing that was happening within. For Severus, the juxtaposition between his commitment to die for her, and his commitment, now, to live for her, created an overwhelming fullness that was so exquisite that it prickled his eyes.
“I love you so much, Hermione.”
His voice, laden with feeling, did not seem to derive from breath but from, perhaps, an inner life force, chi, oiling his vocal cords and anointing her heart.
She lifted his hand, the one resting on the small of her back, to her face and placed her small palm against his large one.
“I love you Severus. I adore you. I never thought my heart would hold something as beautiful as you inside it,” she whispered, the flickering sparks between their palms reflecting in the shine of her eyes.
His fingers curled over hers as he swallowed down the surge of emotion unleashed by her words—he felt so unworthy but he craved them beyond reason.
Hermione trailed her fingertips over his palm. His hands were something she had always found so beguiling, even as a student. Mostly hidden by the sleeves of his frock coat and often cloistered by his furled fingers like the heart of a flower, the rare glimpses she had had of them, fully exposed, often elicited a jolt of erotic desire.
Now they were hers, no longer to covet but to worship. And she honed in on the finger she loved most. His ring finger. The least used and normally least expressive of any hand, but for him, it was the most prominent, he rubbed its tip with his thumb as he thought, he curled it around his robes when he drew them in, it performed the final caress of ingredients into a cauldron, and was often the last to unfurl when gesticulating, like the final petal opening.
Now she trailed her tongue up to the crevice where his palm joined with that finger she adored. She licked there, swirling her tongue into and around it, slipping down between the webbing. It was these hands that often made him seem more magician than wizard, more musician than master of potions—an artist of unparalleled skill. And paying homage to them so intimately was intoxicating for her as her breathing quickened, sending short cooling blasts in its wake.
Severus gazed at perfection. He used to think that the quickening would be his end—would finally make his heart cave in. But that paled in comparison to what this vulnerable, yearning, sensual, infinitely complex being could do. His heart had ballooned—it was too big for his chest, too big, almost, to sustain life.
She continued to lick at the base of his finger, revelling in the sensation, as she knew there would come a time when she couldn’t. It would be covered by the band that she placed there—when they finally became ‘the Snapes’.
And when she felt that she’d had her fill, she glided her tongue up the tiny grooves of his finger, stopping at the crevice of each joint for further reverential reflection before reaching the tip and sucking it gently into her mouth.
These fingertips held the memories of his entire life. And what a life it had been. They had touched so much, so many. And she felt herself connecting with all that was him through that tiny point—tongue to fingertip. An unbreakable bond. She imagined them floating in the ocean or even in space, connected always.
He felt himself floating away. On a tide of unparalleled bliss and love. But with her. Forever with her.
“Let me worship you, Hermione,” he murmured into her hair.
She took a final few moments, eyes closed, to savour the hairline whorls of his fingertip before she felt ready to release him. Then she smiled. Although she knew what had likely transpired in the torturous confines of Malfoy Manor, she also knew that what they shared transcended anything and everything that encapsulated the mere physicality of sex. The experience had not tarnished them. If anything, it had driven them to new heights of understanding, striving for new expressions of love.
And he was still achingly fucking sexy. Her smile broadened. Let the worshipping begin.
Slithering slowly up his body, she placed her lips on his, gently at first and then with increasing urgency as she raked her fingers through his silky hair. One of his hands grasped her hip as the other curled into her locks, desperately holding her to him. He drank down her scent, her taste, her passion, her love like a man parched to the bone. And although she delivered with gushing abundance, he knew he would never be quenched. He would want her always.
They kissed until they lost all sense of time and place, compressing the entire world into the space between their mouths. His desire was ravenous but his expression was tempered—tender and patient. He needed to do this right. To worship her properly, he needed to tune in to every fibre of her body. His awareness was of her, not himself, and her responses would drive everything he did.
After an eternity, he gently grasped her in his arms and rolled her over so that she was lying with her hair in a fan on his pillow. His dark eyes, deeper than a night sky, sank into hers. He didn’t need legilimency, it was like he’d always known her.
And so he kissed her neck, his soft nose trailing down after his warm mouth. Her sigh, like a whisper on the breeze, told him all he needed to know, continuing to plant each in a smouldering trail along her breast bone, with the tip of his tongue as a sign off.
She felt her lungs contracting involuntarily, pushing out a needy moan. His soft hair trailed over her like a curtain of silk, that slipped into crevices and tickled erogenous zones that she didn’t even know existed.
He continued down to the delicate skin between her breasts where he licked and nuzzled before making small, laving gains on his ascent to the peak of her left mound.
So far she had managed to stave off her need to touch him, giving him space to work, but clutching the sheets was no longer sufficient and she released them to bury her fingers in his hair as he licked small tantalising circles around her nipple. She desperately wanted him to suck her but also wanted to prolong this moment as long as possible and so settled for holding her breath for agonizingly long periods of time, her brow knitted and her lips parted with unbridled lust.
Feeling her breath hitch, he finally allowed himself to engulf her nipple and her response was perfect.
“Uuuhhhhh.” The escaping air tickled her vocal chords and her body writhed under him.
His tongue swirled and laved around the taut bud as his lips suctioned onto her rosy flesh. Her writhing became more rhythmic and he could tell that her core was becoming increasingly desperate for his attention. His talented fingers squeezed and rolled the other nipple into a pliant peak before sweeping across her chest to claim it.
Parting her legs, she nudged him over with her knee so she could straddle his hip, rubbing her moist heat against him. He continued to alternate between both nipples until they stood as shiny erect beacons, like lighthouses on the hills of her creamy skin. Then he engulfed her hands which were still clinging to his locks, bringing them down to take his place at her nipples.
As she began stroking and rolling them, he continued on the next leg of his journey. Marking his route like an explorer, he pressed kisses down the skin of her abdomen which fluttered and bounded like a drum skin beneath him.
Her breathing had increased considerably and she continued to arch into him, trying to gain some traction for that slick suite of sensors, striving desperately for stimulation.
Dipping into her belly-button with his tongue, he elicited a yelp and a buck that dislodged him, allowing her time for a quick nudge that saw him suddenly between her thighs.
He chuckled, the mellifluous sound adding another sheen of lubrication to her already glistening folds. Still smiling, he dipped lower to lick up her inner thigh but her hands were quickly on him pulling him back. He didn’t need to be a legilimens to work out what she wanted.
He dipped the tip of his tongue into the apex of her folds and she shuddered. She was on a hair-trigger and her hyper-responsiveness to his touch made him feel both potent and intimately accountable. It wasn’t a time for playing and teasing, it was time to satisfy in a way that showed her he knew her better than anyone in the world.
And so he lowered his mouth over her clitoris and laved the hidden forms and folds in the way that soon had her panting and keening in equal measure. Then he licked his way down toward her vagina, stopping to explore the sensitive opening to her urethra along the way. Her thighs squeezed inward, trying to engulf him. He hooked his arms around and pulled them back open, licking his way to her main opening, where he delved in like he was licking the cream from a brandy snap.
“Severus!” she cried, thrusting into his face and grabbing his hair in her fists. He was reminded of the way she had ridden him in her ‘lucid dream’ but was too busy reaching into her depths to laugh at that now. He continued drinking noisily from her dripping cave walls, holding her thighs tightly in case she managed to buck him off.
He used his thumb to massage her clitoris as he licked into her from every angle and her groans turned raw, animalistic. She was close.
Increasing his pressure on her clit, he rammed his tongue in as far as it would go. He loved the feeling of her coming around his cock and fingers, but it was special to have her coming around his tongue. The density of the receptors in his slick muscle and the fact that it was a multi-sensory experience where he had an opportunity to smell, taste and swallow what was ejected from her body was glorious.
And that’s how it happened. She groaned out a primal scream as her body gave up on decorum or even basic levels of control. It was as violent an orgasm as she had ever had. Her body convulsed as if she had been shocked with the cruciatus and he latched onto her as she bucked around, determined to stay on, and in, until the end. Her muscles convulsed around his tongue deliciously and he continued rubbing at her clitoris, prolonging her release as long as possible as he gulped and lapped at her gushing channel.
The groans of ecstasy continued for a long time after her orgasm hit, the aftershocks wrenching them from her throat. Eventually he pulled back, panting with the effort, his face and neck slick with juices and saliva. She rubbed absently at his scalp with her fingers as her head rocked blissfully from side to side in a post-orgasmic haze. Then she pulled him up towards her and immediately kissed him on the mouth, tasting herself and stroking the tongue that had brought her so much pleasure.
She opened her eyes to look into his and all she could see there was love. Her heart leapt, knowing that she had found the special soul that could both accept her and love her. All of her. He would always be beautiful and he would always be hers. And, no matter what happened, he would be with her, embedded in her heart, forever.
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The Quickening