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Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 129854 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 29
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 29
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A/N: So I know there was a wee bit of trouble on the site but it's all been sorted so hopefully everyone hasn't been scared off! I have some high-faluting antivirus protection on my computer so I wasnt worried but I had a few friends that were scared to come over to AFF. Anyway, please enjoy and I will love you forever if you review!

Thirty minutes later, Snape finally moved from on top of Hermione and used his wand to get rid of the telling mess of their coupling from her thighs. Hermione had caught her second wind and climbed out of bed, running to the front room to get her basket. She was still naked and prepared to walk out of the bedroom like so when Snape hissed in annoyance, making Hermione come back and summoning one of his nightshirts and shoving it over her head. The nervy witch had the nerve to grin at his displeasure, but she hurriedly disappeared and reappeared, bearing a basket that was bigger than her head.

"Did you bring the entire of Hogwarts kitchen with you?" Snape asked when he noticed the way she hefted the bulky thing up onto a chair.

"Dobby," Hermione explained with a sigh. She still was not completely comfortable with the idea of giving the house-elves extra work to do, but they seemed so pleased whenever she visited the kitchens, especially since she had long stopped trying to give them clothes. By now, Hermione could ask for a bit of milk, and they would give her an entire carafe. She reckoned they would Apparate somewhere to get her an entire cow if she were so inclined.

Snape looked on as Hermione stood at the foot of his bed, pulling little dishes out of the basket. Between talking to Katie Belle's parents, who came to Hogwarts to remove their daughter to St Mungo's, and then storming down to the dungeons to find Draco, only for Crabbe and Goyle to shabbily attempt to waylay him by the stairs, Snape had almost forgotten about dinner. By now he didn't have much of an appetite, but seeing as how Hermione had gone through all the trouble to visit the kitchens, he decided to appease her. After the first bite, he found that he was marginally hungry and managed a bit of each dish that the house-elf had packed. Snape did, however, devour the sticky-toffee pudding that thankfully had remained in one piece.

Now the two were sitting in his bed, the hearth burning low across the room. Snape had dressed in another nightshirt and was reclining against a pile of pillows while Hermione lie next to him, playing with his fingers and pressing the odd kiss into his palm. For someone that had been staunchly against celebrating their birthday, he secretly admitted to himself that spending his evening with Hermione was turning out to be rather pleasant, although most time spent with her usually was pleasant.

Hermione was now rubbing her lips across his wrist. While it would have seemed odd had anyone else done that to him, Snape chalked the gesture up to another innocent show of affection, and told himself that Hermione could place her lips anywhere she liked on his body.

"Severus?" she murmured against his hand, turning it over and grazing her lips against his knuckles.

"Yes?"

"How old are you now?"

"Too old for you," he replied, smirking when Hermione glowered at him.

"That's absurd," she sniffed, lacing her fingers through his and resting her head against his shoulder. "Besides, that's really a matter of semantics. And not to beat a dead horse, but thinking back to everything I've been through thus far, my age really never played a factor in any of it. Dolohov certainly didn't bother to inquire about my age as he gave me this," Hermione continued, pointing to the space between her breasts.

"While you almost make a valid point, I assume you haven't thought about what tomorrow holds," Snape replied. "Yes, it seems like you've seen a lot thus far, but you have yet to experience a quarter of what life holds for you. You can and you will move on from all of this."

"Why do you speak as if you have no place in my future?" asked Hermione in a wobbly voice, sitting up and looking at him with a sobering expression on her face.

"I prefer pragmatism over fatalism, but even if there is a chance that I come out of this alive, I know for fact that you will be eager to close this chapter of your life. I would expect nothing less."

"I don't think I'd really be able to close anything; it's not as if Dark wizards being led by one megalomaniac are something you happen across on a regular day," Hermione began carefully, "but if you're getting at what I think you're getting at, then you're wrong."

"And there goes that Gryffindor tenacity," said Snape, causing Hermione to stiffen her shoulders. "Hermione, listen to me," he continued, his fingers tightening slightly around hers. "I'm not telling you any of this to be harsh, but fact remains that you are young, and in the long run I would do nothing but hold you back. I know I can be a bastard, but I will not allow you to ruin your life for the likes of me. It's bad enough you and those other two dolts not to mention the rest of these wayward children are being made to get tangled with things that many more experienced wizards have yet to encounter. "

Hermione leaned across Snape's lap to stare directly in his face. "I told you before: you'll have to do better than that to keep me away," she firmly stated with a glint of defiance shining in her brown eyes. "I'm not going anywhere and neither are you."

"It's not that easy, Hermione," Snape told her in a rough voice that sounded as if he wished just the opposite.

"But you can't..." Hermione trailed off in a sudden choked sob, unable to get out the last word.

Hermione had never given thought to the idea that a day might come where she would no longer be able to see Severus. Not because of anyone learning about their illicit relationship, but because of the fact that he was no longer alive. The realisation that that could become a fast reality was a harsh blow, and tears began prickling her eyes.

I won't cry, I will not cry, she told herself, grabbing a handful of the duvet in one fist in an attempt to calm herself.

While she believed to have been doing a fine job thus far of keeping her emotions in check when it concerned the impending war, Hermione knew that if she gave into her worry and grief and let everything out, that she might not be able to stop. Now was not the time to break down, and after all, Snape did tell her that tears were useless. But it still didn't negate the wrenching sensation in her chest.

"Will you at least try?" she asked mournfully. "Will you promise me that?"

Snape felt something twist in his own chest at Hermione's question. Over the years he had made countless promises to help Dumbledore, the Order, the Dark side, and even a deceased woman that had never once heard his plea. Never had anyone told him to look after himself, to be careful, and now Hermione was asking him to promise her that he would try to do so, and it was too much.

The professor wasn't used to feeling whatever it was that had taken over his senses, and for a moment he wanted to push Hermione off his lap and run out of the room, just to get a breather. But the sight of the young witch, sniffling and sitting there in his ratty grey nightshirt which was much too large for her petite frame, with her unruly hair surrounding her pretty yet tear-stained face mere inches away from his made a knot form in his gut.

"I will," Snape finally answered. "And haven't I told you that crying solves nothing?"

"Then call me a weak little schoolgirl if you like, but right now I can't help it."

"Tears aren't a sign of weakness, Hermione."

"No? Because I feel pretty pathetic right now, if you must know."

"A weak person wouldn't be sitting here right now," Snape assured, grasping Hermione by the forearms to draw her closer and wiping the remaining tears from her face with both thumbs. "There is no way I would allow myself to become involved in the slightest with someone whom I believed to be weak-minded or easily bent to the will of others."

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and asked in a cracking voice, " I suppose I should take that as a compliment?"

"If it will make you sleep better at night."

"Cheeky man," Hermione said between sniffles, grabbing onto Snape's hand that still lingered by her neck and pressing a kiss onto it. She then kept his hand in hers but lowered it to her lap, falling into thoughtful silence.

Snape's penchant for keeping a dark classroom carried over into his personal time, and his bedroom was just as dimly lit. There were a few candles scattered about, many of them looking as if they were on their last legs; one was mostly a pile of wax with a single blue flame flickering on its wick. However, while his classrooms usually held an eerie atmosphere, Snape's bedroom was much less foreboding, perhaps because there was that small fact of both of them sitting in his bed in their nightclothes.

Hermione sat there, turning Snape's hand over in hers and tracing her fingertips over the calluses on his skin. In spite of the lack of overt lighting, she was still able to see nearly everything before her.

While Snape's hands were slender and his fingers long and thin, Hermione mused that they were stronger than they looked, not to mention capable. His nails and cuticles weren't overly manicured nor were they a complete mess. In any event, Hermione remembered had never been scratched when he touched her. She continued running her fingers over Snape's wrist, falling quiet for so long that she nearly jumped when Snape's voice cut through the darkness.

"Find something interesting?"

His head was resting on a pillow and he was looking directly at Hermione, his black eyes intently focused on her face. He found it interesting the way Hermione was examining his hands, as if they were some sort of object to be revered. If only she knew about the abhorrent things those hands carried out many times over; he wondered if she would be so keen to them, or him, for that matter.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "At first I was wondering why you always keep whichever room you're in so dark, then I started wondering about your hands. They're stronger than appear to be."

"I don't believe I have ever met anyone who took such an interest in my hands," Snape began dryly. "But as for my proclivity for not cracking open every window, if you lived and taught in dungeon-level quarters for the better part of your adult life, I would like to see how your eyes fare with the harsh lighting."

"Oh... Guess I didn't think about that."

"Clearly," Snape answered with a smirk on his face. "It's no wonder I'm given the clever epithet of 'bat'," he continued, placing heavy irony on the word 'clever'.

"Nothing to do with the black robes, then?"

"Would you have me wearing bright turquoise silk like another wizard that comes to mind?"

"Gods, no!" Hermione chirped, breaking out into a fit of laughter. The idea of Snape wearing such an eye-popping colour was nearly too much. She could picture him in Muggle clothing before Snape allowed himself to become swathed in a lurid shade of wizard's robes in a colour worn by the likes of Dumbledore or even Lockhart.

Hermione continued her perusal of Snape's hands, only she began trailing her fingertips along the inside of his wrist. Inches away from the Dark Mark burned into his left forearm, Snape hoped that the inquisitive witch was not in the mood for giving an in-depth interrogation. It was bad enough that he was forced to look at the thing forever marring his pale skin, and Snape avoided doing so whenever possible. But talking about it was the last thing he felt like doing.

While Hermione's eyes had strayed to the black skull with a snake protruding from its mouth, she was tactful enough to not linger. Of course, just because Hermione wasn't about to ask about his Dark Mark, it didn't mean that she would not ask about anything else.

"What made you become a teacher?" she queried, apropos of nothing, causing Snape to look levelly at her.

"Why do you ask?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just curious. You just always seemed to, erm, prefer to not be in the presence of children. I just wondered why you chose to take a teaching position instead of something else—stop frowning at me."

"And what gave you the idea that I prefer to not in the presence of these obstreperous little bastards, excuse me, darling children?" he retorted with a sneering grin.

"You're right old misery," Hermione laughed. "Maybe because you just referred to the entire student body as 'little bastards'? So, I'm curious...why?"

"You ask a lot of questions, chatty little girl. Why should I answer them?"

"Because you're the professor, it's your job to offer enlightenment to the ignorant masses," Hermione offered, lightly poking Snape in the chest.

"Oddly enough, I thought you were the professor, considering the way you attempted to undermine my authority at every turn," Snape drawled, causing Hermione to grin sheepishly. "To put it simply, if I wanted to eat and keep a roof over my head, I had to have a job. Does that answer your question?"

Hermione frowned slightly as she nodded her head. Countless times she found herself musing over the fact that Snape was a professor, as it seemed that he truly hated his job. Of course, now that she was more apprised with certain facets of his life, Hermione merely chalked Snape's attitude up to being worried and stressed all the time, even if he claimed that he was fine. Never did she imagine that his teaching position had been taken out of a lack of alternate choices.

"You're thinking about this much too hard," Snape said, catching the faraway glint in Hermione's eye. "I assure you the back story of it is not all that glamorous."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to hear what Snape had to say, no matter how gruesome or humdrum the details may be, and she stretched out alongside him, obviously waiting for him to speak.

"There truly isn't much to say, Hermione," Snape finally began. "I only had myself to depend on and a source of income was necessary."

"So that's it? Teaching at Hogwarts was just a job for you?" Hermione pressed.

"Were you expecting a more poignant answer?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, looking just a bit hopeful as if Snape might have more to tell her.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he replied, his tone clearly conveying that he was no longer going to speak on the subject of his past.

"You still never told me how old you are," Hermione chided, pushing her hair back and resting her head on the pillow next to his.

"A very old and tired thirty-seven," Snape murmured into her ear. "Now be quiet else I'll send you back to your tower."

Snape had turned onto his side and draped one arm across Hermione's waist. Judging by the way his hand was running over the dip in her back, Hermione was sure that he wasn't about to send her anywhere, yet she decided to not risk it.

While Hermione pressed herself closer and draped one leg in between his, Snape continued running his hand over her clothed back as he mused upon her question, the one he refused to give a lengthy explanation to.

His father, Tobias Snape, had died the summer before his seventh year at Hogwarts. While the circumstances surrounding his death might have been suspicious to those of the wizarding world, the Muggle authorities chalked it up to alcohol poisoning and kidney failure. Severus nor his mum shed a tear when the man was buried.

Perhaps that had been why Severus was so shocked to find his mum's mental health, and then later, physical health, in a steady decline after her husband's death. Severus had just graduated from Hogwarts and returned to the dreary confines of Spinner's End, finding that his mother seemed to have aged over the short period of a few months since he had seen her last.

It was as if the woman had completely given up on life. Mundane tasks, such as sleeping, eating, and bathing, seemed to be low on the totem pole of priorities for the once sharp-witted yet repressed witch, and it had been up to Severus to make sure that all of his mother's basic needs were met. Severus hadn't known the first thing about cooking; on his best day he could make toast and eggs that didn't resemble a lump of coal. But Eileen had been so lost into the depths of her own mind that she never noticed the meals set before her by her son, nor did she comment on how palatable they were.

While Severus, and prior to that, his mum, had always preferred to be alone, there had been many times where he became desperate enough to wish that there was a somewhat friendly female neighbour around that would be able to assist him, especially when it came to helping his mum bathe. If Eileen had been embarrassed by her own son giving her a bath, she never made mention of it and stayed silent throughout the entire process.

The closest Severus had to a female acquaintance of sorts had been Narcissa Black, and they were closely aligned as neighbouring planets in the solar system. To Narcissa, Severus was sure that he was nothing but Lucius' odd friend that first came to Hogwarts with tatty robes and unwashed hair. Besides, there was no way he would have let anyone into his shabby house, never mind a pure-blood witch that came from a long line of wealthy, aristocratic witches and wizards. The only other person that knew about his mum had been Lily Evans, not long after, Potter, and Severus knew that it didn't matter what desperate straits he was met with, there was nothing he could say or do that would warrant his former best friend to help him.

Severus couldn't understand for the life of him why his mother had fallen into such a state of despair. He always thought that his mum would have been glad to be rid of his father, but supposed that after so many years of marriage and keeping constant company, in spite of Tobias' constant abuse she had gotten used to his presence. Severus certainly didn't miss his father, and at one point he even told Eileen that she should be happy to no longer be subjected to a lifetime of misery. The thin, sallow-skinned, sour-faced woman he so greatly resembled merely looked up at her son as if she almost loathed him for that comment. Even without her saying a word it was clear that she disagreed with her son. Severus had been disgusted by her affrontedness and left Eileen alone in the front room, allowing her to keep company with her scorn.

Shortly before her passing, an event which Severus had been completely unprepared for, Eileen summoned her son to the front room. He found her in her favourite armchair by the hearth, idly stroking the blanket he'd previously draped across her lap as if it were a kitten.

"The house is paid for," she explained curtly, her black eyes holding a steady gaze with her adult yet lost-looking child. "It was the least I could do. You can keep it or sell it."

Severus had been so shocked to hear his mum speak, and say something sensible, that he was silent for several minutes. He supposed her statement had been a roundabout apology, or some semblance of a loving sentiment. Finally uttering a rough "All right" Snape had waited to see if Eileen had anything else to say. It had been almost as if she had forgotten about her son standing less than two feet away from her, because she had then lowered her head and continued with caressing her blanket.

Eileen's burial had been a sombre affair, one only her son had been present for. Severus went to his mum's room one morning to bring her breakfast and found her cold body, still tucked beneath the pile of blankets. There had been no friends or relatives to notify, and once everything was all said it done, the only reminder of Eileen Snape's presence on earth had been her wand, first given to her at the age of eleven and rarely used after her marriage to Tobias Snape, a few moth-eaten witches robes, a handful of Muggle dresses, and some books. There was no inheritance to be had, as Severus suspected his mother had used the last of her meagre savings to pay the off the mortgage on the terraced house.

After Severus had sold off the few things remaining in his house which still held any sort of value, it had quickly become apparent that he needed a job, and fast.

It was no secret that Severus had been precociously brilliant, having passed every subject with ease during his time at Hogwarts. However, that brilliance turned out to be most unhelpful for the longest time while he sought gainful employment. Severus had visited all sorts of places to find work. All it had taken was a single glance from most people to quickly tell him that they had nothing, but perhaps would keep him in mind. Desperately wanting to stay within the wizarding world, Severus continued on, hoping that the tables would turn in his favour.

When an empty belly and sore feet from pounding the pavement day in and out almost drove him to consider seeking employment in a Muggle place of business, Severus had noticed Albus Dumbledore slipping into the Hog's Head pub and decided to grovel and beg for a job.

Severus had never actually gotten around to his request, for he overheard Sybil Trelawney's prophecy while standing at the door on the second floor of the pub. Upon learning that Snape had been eavesdropping, the three got into an argument, after which Aberforth, Albus's crotchety brother, threw him out of the pub and onto his arse.

It had been another year before Severus was given a teaching position at Hogwarts, and it was only on the condition that Severus do whatever Dumbledore asked of him.

Lucius Malfoy learned that Severus was to teach Potions at Hogwarts, and sneered a bit, asking why did he want to bother with snot-nosed brats, and that if Severus needed a a job referral, or perhaps bit of gold, all he needed to do was ask. But the last thing Snape wanted was to have to pay back a favour for Lucius Malfoy. While it was true that they were friends, Snape knew that the Malfoy family tended to lean towards the side of equal indemnification if it suited them.

Although Snape had helped Lucius on numerous occasions, there were some things that he preferred to not leave to chance, such as his livelihood. In their small circle, it was no secret that Lucius was high ranking among the Death Eaters, as well as the upper echelons of wizarding society. He had been the one to invite Snape into his fold, and long after the Dark Lord had seemingly been vanquished, Malfoy's reputation preceded him, be it good, bad, or indifferent. At the end of the day, Snape had his own neck to look out for, and he would not chance even the slightest hint of a threat.

While teaching Potions at Hogwarts was the last thing Snape envisioned himself doing, sometimes he found that his work wasn't all that bad. In fact, it was child's play compared to the darker aspects of his double life. While his teaching position afforded him a full belly, a roof over his head for nine months out of the year, as well as a steady amount of Galleons deposited into his account, there had been many times where Snape truly questioned the reason for his existence.

Lily Potter, née Evans, was the sole reason he even bothered with surrendering to Dumbledore's orders. Becoming intertangled with Voldemort and his followers had been a decision that Snape made when he was at the lowest part of his life, and it took the death of the one person he loved to make him see how wrong it all was.

Although, once the Dark Lord had returned and Snape had attended countless meetings where he returned to his rooms, in so much pain that it wouldn't have mattered to him if he were to drop dead on the spot, he couldn't help but wonder if things had been different had he never heard the prophecy, if he never joined the Death Eaters.

Would he have become a Potions master, sweating over cauldrons for the better part of his adult life? While there were worse things in life than teaching a class full of Neville Longbottoms, teaching had never been a profession that Snape saw himself in. For one, he preferred to be alone, something that stemmed from his childhood days at school. The only person he never minded working with had been Lily, and that was before their falling out.

Besides, children annoyed him even when he was a child, as well as most adults for that matter. Snape had never been much of a talker unless he had something of importance to say, which made him an intent listener. He found his peers and professors to whine about some of the most trivial things; a classmate fancying someone and not having their affections returned, someone's mum or dad refusing to buy them a brand new racing broom, even though their old one worked perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Snape had been perfectly content to have a warm bed to sleep in at night and three generously-sized meals a day, not to mention snacks in between, the likes of which he would have never seen back at home.

It had been a curious thing, trying to fit in with the many pompous not to mention wealthy members of Slytherin house, even though he kept his own background, which he believe to be marred, hidden from everyone. Snape ranged between jealousy, awe and disgust at many of them, at the same time wishing that he was able to strut about like many of the wizards that came from a well-off family. While Lucius Malfoy had been just as pompous, he at least had the graces to not behave the braggart as well, claiming that doing so was tawdry and common. In certain aspects, the wizard had more manners than his progeny, although as of late they had become far and few.

There was no telling how Lucius would behave after being sent to Azkaban, a place that Snape had craftily avoided with the help of Dumbledore. That had been another point which irked him to no end, knowing that he needed the bespectacled white-haired wizard as some form of protection.

Snape hated to need anyone, but fact remained that at some point or another he most likely would have ended in the very place that Lucius landed himself had it not been for the headmaster.

Many times, Snape pondered on being born into an unlucky life, something he absolutely had no control over. Growing up, he briefly dallied with the idea that perhaps having two wizarding parents would have made a difference, but it soon became apparent that many of his classmates were half-bloods or Muggle-borns, both of whom had a proper upbringing. The little witch lying next to him definitely had the look of being loved and well-cared for, and her parents were both Muggles.

Still, at the end of the day, blood status and the like meant nothing when it came to the harsh teachings of life, and everyone was being forced to endure trials and tribulations. Snape hoped that if by some miracle he were to survive it all, he wouldn't have to live out his remaining days in Azkaban. He would sooner take his own life before being forced to live under the threat of the Dementors.

"Severus, are you all right?" Hermione asked suddenly, pushing herself up slightly to peer into his face.

Snape was broken out of his unpropitious musings, and while he was glad for it, he still arched an eyebrow."Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you sort of went stiff against me, I thought perhaps you were in pain."

"Not at all, Miss Granger."

"Hermione!"

Snape moved so quickly that Hermione never saw it coming, although she easily acquiesced to being pinned beneath the slim wizard's body.

"Damn difficult witch," he muttered, lowering his head and dragging his lips across hers. "Do you not remember me telling you that I prefer silence in my bedroom? No shouting like some deranged harridan."

"Then address me properly," Hermione told him sweetly, tucking the fallen strands of Snape's hair behind his ears and pulling him down for a full on kiss.

Even though it was Hermione's initial question that spurred a lengthy self-examination of the past occurrences in his life, Snape found himself becoming lost in the taste of her mouth, not to mention the way she was now pressing her body upwards and against his. They both were still dressed in his long nightshirts, and it quickly became evident that Hermione wanted him naked. She grasped a fistful of material at his back, attempting to find the hem of his nightshirt while keeping her mouth against his, soon huffing in exaggeration when her efforts were thwarted.

"Hermione, would you like to sit up so I might undress you?" Snape asked dryly as he moved to kneel upright between her thighs.

"As if I'd say no to that," she answered, sitting up and holding onto Snape's forearms to pull herself to her knees.

Hermione was soon rendered speechless as Snape dragged the nightgown over her head, impatiently tossing it behind him. While his previous movements had been hasty, he was now touching her slowly. One hand remained at the small of her back while his other hand gently cupped and lifted her left breast. Capturing her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, Snape teased it into standing out at attention, before circling it with his tongue.

The air in the room was cool but Snape's mouth was hot, and the conflicting sensations made Hermione shiver. Letting out a breathless moan she repositioned her arms to leave one wound around his neck, trying to keep from falling. They were both kneeling on the bed and facing one another. Snape was busy with her nipples, and Hermione became so caught up in the feel of his teeth and tongue moving across her flesh that she didn't anticipate the hand that had been on her back now making its way between her legs.

It felt as if there was a direct line from her nipples leading to her clit; the more Severus licked and pinched the tight little nubs, while simultaneously tweaking her clitoris between two fingers, the more aroused Hermione became until she was shaking.

Lifting his head to look into Hermione's face, Snape saw that her brows were drawn together, as if in deep concentration, and her lips were parted. A few times Hermione had been about to fall, when Snape told her to hold onto him. Now she was digging her fingers into his shoulders, bracing herself against him while awkwardly gyrating against his hand.

Snape's palm was soaked long before he slipped two fingers inside her body, and that little shift had been just enough to bring her to the shuddering edge of climax.

"Why did you stop?!" Hermione asked accusingly when Snape withdrew his hand, pulling back and pulling his nightshirt over his head. She looked completely pissed, put out, and thoroughly aroused, and Snape couldn't help but to smirk.

"Because I want to finish you off with my mouth," he smoothly answered, causing Hermione's eyes to widen. "Now, come here," he directed after lying on the bed and placing two pillows beneath his head. "No, the other way," Snape said when Hermione made to straddle him by way of facing him.

"Like this?" she asked, her legs now on either side of his torso with her bum hovering over his chest.

"Almost." Snape grasped her thighs and pulled Hermione back until her swollen, glistening sex was right above his face. If Hermione had been shocked by the new position she didn't let on, yet she was unable to muffle the sharp gasp that poured from her lips once Snape pressed his tongue to her engorged clitoris.

It didn't take long for Hermione to begin rocking her hips against his face while digging her fingertips into his thighs. Just as Snape was about to pause and suggest that it would be pleasurable if she also reciprocated, he felt Hermione grasp the base of his cock and guide it into her mouth.

Moaning into her flesh at the feel of wet heat surrounding him, Snape continued alternating between teasing Hermione with the tip of his tongue, and flattening it and running broad, long strokes against the length of her clasping slit.

With the new angle Hermione felt much more exposed, yet Severus' tongue felt invitingly warm against her most intimate places. Even though he didn't ask her to, Hermione wanted to place her mouth on him, and the mere thought of them pleasuring one another at the same time sent her mind spinning. Severus' hips were churning upwards as she ran her lips and tongue over the head of his cock, obviously wanting her to take in the entire thing. Soon as she went down as far as possible without gagging, Severus unleashed a deep, throaty groan, and she literally felt its vibrations titillating her already sensitive core.

If Hermione had been thinking about anything at the moment, her train of thought was completely obliterated as two skilled fingers slowly pressed inside her again. The sublime pressure was nearly enough to make Hermione forget to move her head, and it was only when she felt Snape thrusting up into her mouth that she remembered her task at hand.

Long fingers stroked and manipulated her while fervent lips and tongue pulled and suckled on her, and Hermione's orgasm hit her so suddenly that she was unable to make a sound. Her walls spasmed around the two fingers while tremors made her shake from head to toe, until finally when went limp along the length of Snape's body, resting her head on his thighs with his very much erect cock nestled between her breasts.

Snape also hadn't anticipated Hermione reaching her release so quickly, but the feel of her literally pulsating against his mouth had his cock throbbing. With one final lick he tapped Hermione's hip and waited for her to slide off his legs and onto her back on the bed.

Hermione was still dazed from her climax, and didn't lift so much as one finger when she felt Severus nudging her exhausted thighs apart with one knee.

"That was new," she murmured breathlessly, her eyes still closed.

Snape gave a hoarse chuckle as his eyes took in the sight of her prone form. Hermione's hair was all over the place, which was the norm for the errant strands, and her chin was a bit shiny with saliva from going down on him.

"Sorry," Hermione continued, opening her eyes when she felt the sticky head of his cock pressing against her inner thigh. "I guess I sort of left you hanging."

"You can make it up to me," he silkily suggested. "Now turn over."

Hermione still didn't feel like moving but she wanted more, and shifted her weight until her face and stomach was pressing against the duvet. She expected him to come into her right away, the way he often did when they had been parted for too long. Instead, she felt her hair being smooth away from her face with one hand. Snape moved her curls until they were draped completely to the side, exposing the long line of her neck and back. Slow moving fingers began tracing a path down the length of her body, using a touch so light that Hermione almost wondered if Severus' fingers were actually on her.

Almost purring at the contact, Hermione was unable to let out more than a sigh when she felt the blunt tip of Severus' cock nudging its way into her still inflamed body.

The wizard moved excruciatingly slow, and every push and pull of his hips made her inhale softly. The underside of his shaft brushed against something on each outstroke, and that small movement soon had Hermione coming up on her knees to push back. However, Severus grabbed onto her hips to keep her from moving further, and Hermione made some small noise that conveyed her annoyance.

"Don't make any sounds," she heard Severus say over her head. "Just feel."

Easy for you to say! Hermione bristled inwardly, but she vowed to keep quiet. Whatever Severus was intending surely had to be good, and she had no complaints on that forefront. But not making any noise was no easy task, as she was compelled to moan or hiss each time he withdrew, only to slowly sink back inside her until his sac was flush with her behind.

His hands had angled her hips just so, and each time he lunged forward it sent a flicker of pleasure shooting to her stomach until the flickers turned into one big knot of need that was surely going to send her over the edge at any given moment.

Snape told Hermione to contain her moans for a few reasons; one, the sound of them alone was enough to set his cock twitching, and two, if she couldn't moan, the her unchecked passion took the form of something more physical. He was sure that Hermione was completely unaware of the way her body trembled. Her left arm was outstretched, her short fingernails threatening to leave claw marks in his duvet. Had they been closer to the footboard, most likely she would have left marks in the wood. Hermione's right arm was bent and beneath her face, and she was breathing noisily into its crook, most likely biting down on her own flesh to keep from screaming.

When the little witch's body culminated to an unsteady thrashing about, the fervent pulsing of her walls a dead giveaway that she was about to come again, Severus stopped completely. Hermione nearly reared up in frustration at her orgasm being denied, and actually kicked at the duvet.

"Remember, my bed, my rules," he said, bowing his head to whisper into her ear. "You'll have release when I want you to."

Hermione said nothing, but her hand clenched around the duvet as if it was the source of her torment. Snape was mildly amused by her impatience, but the throbbing in his own groin was not. Straddling Hermione's thighs, he grabbed onto the fleshy globes of her arse, kneading them for a moment before separating them to reveal the flushed redness of her sex.

It all looked warm and inviting, even the rosy tightly-puckered hole that he only slipped a finger into a few times. Snape never had a taste for buggering, as the women he previously consorted with had equally used holes, and their arse tended to be just as loose as their quim. He wondered if Hermione would ever consider allowing him to use more than his finger there when he felt her kicking behind him again, as if to say 'Just get on with it already!'

Already forgetting about his no-noise rule when he sank himself to the hilt, Hermione used both hands to grab onto the duvet and pushed her hips up to meet his. Severus had meant to prolong their lovemaking but all thoughts of going slowly were swept away as he became lost to the feel of Hermione's walls squeezing him.

Desperate to come and in no mood for a subdued writhing, Hermione continued pushing back, her soft behind grinding into Severus' crotch. All it took was one slight tilt of his own hips and a few well-placed downward thrusts, and Hermione finally came apart beneath him, her constrained moans rising to a high-pitched shriek.

Somewhere in the midst of her cries, Snape was sure he heard Hermione apologising, most likely because he told her to remain silent, but he was so far gone that it didn't make a difference.

Shoving one arm beneath Hermione until her breasts were flattened against his forearm, Snape knotted his fingers into her curls and buried his face into the side of her neck, all the while still moving inside her.

"One more, and I'll come with you," he coaxed into her neck, flicking his tongue out and licking at the damp, slightly salty area.

Hermione needed little encouragement, but the reassuring sound of Severus' voice alone, coupled with those oh-so-perfect thrusts were enough to send her over the precipice once more. Coming so hard that her vision began obscured, Hermione didn't notice that she had reached back to awkwardly hold onto Severus' neck as he pounded into her, his arm also tightening its hold on her body.

Tightly fisting Hermione's curls and groaning and swearing into her neck, every last shred of Severus' composure was lost as he flooded her walls with his release. At one point he wondered just how much fluid had been wrench from his body until he realised that Hermione had exploded, literally and figuratively, liberally bathing his balls and most of the duvet with her essence.

When Severus finally lifted his head, he found that Hermione looking as if she planned on going to sleep right then and there. Mustering enough energy to drag himself off her back and pull her away from the soaked and now cold patch of duvet.

"Aren't you going to send me back to my dormitory?" Hermione asked drowsily, nuzzling her face against Snape's chest. He somehow managed to shift them to the other end of his bed, leaving himself on the edge and Hermione on the inside. Snape had just finished pulling the duvet up to her shoulder, and was in the middle of plucking a few loose curls away from Hermione's lips when he heard her mumbling.

"Not yet," Snape replied, his arm going limp across her body and own eyes already on the verge of crashing shut. "Now go to sleep."
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Unintentional Inveiglement