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Monkey's Business	By : sappysappysappy Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 22485 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Thanks to my new Beta Krystle Bertoncin for her thorough Beta-ing of this chapter.

Chapter Summary: A little alone time between Hermione and Snape before another school-day starts
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Monkey Business

Chapter Four: The Morning After

Hermione yawned and stretched luxuriantly in bed. She was in desperate need of a bath and feeling quite worn out besides, but still, she felt grand. Groping around in the darkness, she found her wand beside the bed and with a softly whispered 'Lumos', sat up. The silky green bathrobe, thrown shamelessly on the floor where it tangled with her Professor's clothes, made her grin widely, then blush a bit. She was in her Professor’s bed; naked as the day she was born, with him! After she had just lost her virginity to him! An irresistible urge to giggle stole over her and she hastily buried her face in the blankets before she lost control. Taking calming breaths, she finally let the blanket drop again, self control restored. She'd made 'the beast with two backs' with her Professor and God, how she had loved it, every single second of it.

Lifting the blankets a bit, she peered at her body. Nothing, she thought disappointedly. It looked the same old. No extra glow suffused her skin. And her breasts didn't seem even a tad riper. Her body was unmarked, unchanged, except… except that beside it, lounged a pale buttock. She dropped the blankets hastily. He was there with her and now, now she has seen his buttock. Hermione glanced to the other side of the bed. A slick black mane was all that was visible. The rest was hidden beneath the blankets. Nothing separated them down there, nothing at all. And no eye would see if something happened in there. No ear would hear. Hidden hands and other organs were mere hand spans if not less from her unprotected self.

Hermione lay very still, not daring to move. Why was she freaking out? She just had sex with him for God’s sake. But having him in bed with her was different somehow. She had to get away. The image of that buttock so near to her wouldn't leave her. It was like a magnet, repulsive and perversely enticing at the same time. She wasn’t ready for this. Would she ever? She edged away, until with a painful thump she fell, arse first, and hit the hard floor.

Hermione bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment. That smarted. Crawling quickly to their robes, she was about to pick hers up and wrap herself in it when suddenly the realization of how cowardly she was acting struck her. She was no coward. And she wouldn't let him cow and shame her out of his presence. Most definitely, she was not repentant. She knew what she was doing. Glaring at the shadowy mound on the bed she threw her bathrobe away from her and stood up. Now that she'd put a bit of distance between them and had her wand in hand she felt more confident. She wasn't ashamed of her body, right? He certainly seemed appreciative of it last night.

Nodding to herself resolutely, Hermione breathed deeply, jutting her breasts defiantly at whoever would look and glanced around. She needed to find the loo. And the first thing to do was make more light to see by and maybe warm up the room a bit while she was at it. Waving her wand, she set a lively fire in the hearth and conjured a few lit candles. Now this was more like it. He appeared to be asleep still and now she would have an uninterrupted chance to look around his rooms. Hermione grinned.

The arched doorway leading to the sitting room was where she remembered it, across from the bed. Beside it was a large open hearth with a few knickknacks on its mantel. Stretching from wall to wall beside the bed was a large heavy-set closet decorated with delicate engravings of birds and flowers. Two nightstands flanked the bed on either side, and there, facing the closet from across the bed was the doorway she sought. Otherwise, the room was bare. The walls were stark, without any paintings or decorations, and the floor was cold, naked stone. She backed towards it, hurried by the spreading chillness in her feet. But when she reached it she found no door - just an arch, framed by smooth blocks of stone without anything to block it with.

The other doorway, she now saw, was the same. There were no doors in these rooms, anywhere. The nerve this man had! It was simply preposterous. Gritting her teeth, she entered the bathroom. It was made all in black marble, with red veins that pulsed like rivers of magma and golden stars that floated fairy-like within it as they willed. A sink and Potion Cabinet stood with a toilet on one side and a green cast iron bathtub on the other. The scarcity of faucets made it look almost mugglish in appearance. There were no statuettes or paintings there either.

But the sight of the toilet made her realize how badly she needed to relieve herself. Her bladder was fit to burst. She had to. She looked back at the bed. After some dithering she finally sat on the toilet. But sitting was all she was capable of. The naked arch stared at her obscenely, hungrily, jeeringly. She could see his head from here. He would only need to turn it, flick one eyelid open a tad and he would see her. See her? He would hear her! The sound of her piss drumming shrilly against the surface of the bloody toilet would surely wake him. What was she doing here? She should have stayed in her dorm where there were sane bathrooms. She should have taken her tent-nightgown with her. She should have– It didn't matter what she should have done. She was stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Now, she sat stark naked on a toilet, humiliated and exposed, wasting her time doing nothing but waiting to become a spectacle. Ron would probably drool at the thought if he ever heard about it. He'd demand she repeat it in his own bathroom, the pervert.

It was impossible. It was a struggle just to keep her thighs from clamping together. Thinking furiously, she thrust her hand between her legs and let go. The hot liquid gushing through her fingers made her shudder to the bones but Luck in its infinite mercy kept Professor Snape slumbering. Leaving her seat in a rush soon after, she clambered into the bath and opened the faucets full force. With a few passes of her wand she managed to cover herself in bubbles and steam and relax a bit.

This wasn't so bad. The room was quite mesmerizing, if odd. Hermione sighed. Last night had been good; she could still feel his thing inside her coursing strongly in and out. Hermione let her legs unwind in the hot waters and delved between them with both hands.

Doing it when you've had sex was different, she decided. The phantasms were no longer the abstracts they'd used to be. They were based on what her sex, what her thighs and arms and lips and breasts knew a man handling them felt like. It was no longer just a fanciful pretty story; now it had the rawness that only a hard cock, two eager hands and an avid mouth could imbue it with. But at the same time it was more hollow, unsatisfying and false.

Hermione doggedly shoved her fingers into her sex; she rubbed her clit raw with soapsuds. It wasn't enough. It wasn't her professor.

Her professor. He was right about that. She couldn't keep calling him that. Hermione mouthed his name. "Severus." It wasn't so bad, right? She'd call him that when she'd wake him up. Hermione smiled. And she'd make him call her Hermione even if he'd gag on it. Well, not gag, but she'll see to it that there were no restricting formalities between them when a certain itch was there that needed some serious scratching.

Hermione finished her bath in a rush and got out.

She glanced at the towel rack and shook her head resolutely. She was tired of acting like a scaredy cat. Taking a fortifying breath she crossed the threshold to the bedroom, and went to his side of the bed.

Her partner in crime was still asleep and unlike her, he was covered head to toe in his blasted blankets. She would see about that. Taking careful aim with her wand she gently lifted the blankets off of him and whisked them away to a corner. She examined her sleeping bedmate avidly. He was lying on his side, his face mostly hidden by his hair. Relaxed in sleep and naked like her, he seemed a different man than the tense and uptight teacher she had known for so long. How could this shoulder, so fair and smooth, rising and falling slowly with his breaths be her Professor’s shoulder? How could this leg, this warm appendage that had nestled so cosily against her own, belong to that man? The two seemed nigh incongruous to one another and yet... Relaxed and unwound. Was it merely sleep that made him so, or did she herself have something to do with these changes? It was a delicious thought and Hermione let her heart flutter a little at the thought.

His shoulder beckoned to her. She imagined him waking to her soft touch and kissing her hand with a cheeky “Miss me?” and a grin. The image was ridiculous and she felt like blushing again. No matter how different he seemed in sleep he wasn’t that different. Besides, she needed to return to her normal life and have breakfast with her housemates or people will become suspicious. She needed to get dressed and return to her dormitory. She should not laze about down here with her professor for the rest of the day and that was final.

"Fuck it!" Hermione muttered to herself and recast the Contraceptus spell on herself.

She bent over him, hand hovering centimetres from his shoulder but couldn't make herself touch him. If only she was as shameless as Ginny. Ginny would have known what to do in this situation. Probably wake him up with a smack on his ass or, or a squeeze? Hermione shook her head. She would never be that brave. Taking a step back, she floated the blanket over him and gently lowered it back in place.

Making sure her professor was still asleep; Hermione steeled herself, leant over him and touched his shoulder. It twitched. When nothing more happened, she shook it. He rolled onto his stomach and started chewing on his pillow. Thoroughly annoyed, Hermione whistled in his ear. He tried to cover his bead with his pillow. Hermione snatched it away and pinched his ear.

Turning over he opened his usually fathomless eyes and stared at her blearily. Hermione grinned widely and chirped "Good morning, Severus."

"Mmeh-, Miss Granger." He blinked at her. Then, in a rush, he grabbed the blankets and hid himself up to the chin. "You're still here." He mumbled.

"Yes. Yes I am." She took a breath, wondering what to say next and noticed his eyes glued to her breasts. "Like what you see?" she teased him, shaking them a bit. He gave a little nod from beneath the covers and her breasts perked. Hermione snorted. And she thought she was the scaredy cat. "Well, what're you going to do about it?"

Two hands hesitantly emerged from the blanket, took hold and squeezed. Hermione leaned down and pushed the blankets away. The hands froze and the only motion remaining to him was the eager nodding of a certain proud and jutting member. She touched it with the tip of her finger, tracing lines along its length and pushing it down to see it spring back up the moment she lessened the pressure. She twirled it and let it jump. Her breasts were squeezed tightly and he let out a wheezy breath. Hermione squeezed back and her thumb found traces of condensation at the tip. This was going well, very well indeed.

It was time to get down to serious business. Hermione clambered onto the bed and sat on him making sure his member got in where it should. "Well?" she asked him mock seriously.

Her professor didn't waste any time. Giving her breasts one final squeeze, he drew his hands down her sides and took hold of her waist in a sure grip. Inhaling deeply, he thrust up into her. "Ohhh!" Hermione shrieked and tried to cooperate. She found the rhythm after a few moments and concentrated on the waves of overpowering sensations coming up from between her legs.

Her professor looked up at her. Taking her loose arms in his hands he pushed them at her breasts. "Play with them," he begged her. She wet her lips and did as he asked. Severus thrust hard into her, almost dislodging her off of him. Hermione laughed and after a moment he joined her. They continued in their movements, he thrusting into her with greater and greater zeal and her holding on to her breasts, squeezing them for their joint pleasure and concentrating on the rising fire growing between them. His breathing got ragged and he started shouting incoherently. Looking at his sweaty face and wide unseeing eyes she felt her completion overtaking her. With a final staccato of thrusts deep inside her, his semen flowed and he went limp.

Hermione drew herself down on him, resting her chin on her knuckles, inches above his face. His eyes opened and he looked at her questioningly. Hermione smiled hesitantly and caressed his stubbled cheek. He didn't resist her. Hermione wanted to say something; she searched his face, looking for words but nothing came to her.

His eyes suddenly avoided hers and her man thrust her, not unkindly, aside and got out of bed. "I need to go to the loo," he said brusquely. A moment later a white barrier appeared in the doorway to the bathroom and just like that she was alone. She pressed her lips together and turned her head away from the barrier. She'd been acting like a fool. She glanced at the featureless barrier and snorted. Then she smacked her forehead against her fists. A conjured magical barrier, why didn't she think of that? Call herself a witch, did she?

Well, she wouldn't dwell on it. She got out of bed, cast some cleaning charms on the bed and herself and considered her situation. So far assertiveness has gotten her where she was, also forthrightness, come to think of it, but assertiveness was what was important right now. So, what should her next move be? Her stomach growled at her. Of course! She put her robe on, went to the fireplace and threw a pinch of Floo Powder into it. "Hogwarts' Kitchens," she called and pushed her head through the flames. "I need service," she told the house elves there.

With a pop, an ugly, little elf appeared beside her. "How may Moppy serve Miss?" She didn't look surprised at Hermione's location.

Hermione looked around. "I want the bed freshened up, a breakfast on trays for Professor Snape and me to be served in bed and, and bring a tub with all the accessories here so I can clean up, and a comb and a toothbrush as well of course. Can you handle that?"

"Moppy will see to it, Miss." She could almost hear the sneer in his voice. The house elves would probably never forgive her for what she tried to do to them.

"Good," Hermione answered him, just as coldly.

A washtub was soon brought into the room and Hermione found herself being scrubbed by a pair of unfriendly elves. This must be their revenge on her. At least it got the job done quicker.

Finally, she returned to the bed. Snape was still in the bathroom. Hoping she'd lose her patience and leave? Hermione snorted. What a ridiculous fellow. "Moppy," she called.

"Yes Miss? Is something not to the Miss' satisfaction?"

"Everything's fine. I need you to go to the bathroom over there and tell Professor Snape that he can get out now."

Moppy gave the blocked doorway an apprehensive glance. "Professor doesn't like elves disturbing him in his rooms."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Do you know how it came about that I can be in Professor Snape's bedroom?"

Moppy nodded. "The Headmaster put a spell on Miss and gave her permission to be in the Professor's rooms."

"That's right. And who would you rather upset the Headmaster or Professor Snape?"

Moppy nodded sadly. "Moppy goes to bathroom now to tell Professor Snape he can get out now." Hermione waited.

The barrier dissipated. Professor Snape, a towel wrapped around his waist strode out. The homely arrangement of a loosely robed lover sitting in his bed with an overladen tray resting on her knees gave him pause. "So you've decided to stay," he finally said.

"Yes I did. Come join me for breakfast. The food is getting cold."

A small smile stole over his face. "Very well, my young lady." He went to his side of the bed, moved the blankets aside and joined her beneath them. Taking his own tray from the nightstand, he tucked in.

Hermione didn't disturb the silence for a while. It felt comfortable. She glanced at her bedmate. The little smile hadn't left his lips. Every time he glanced at her his eyes crinkled in bemused merriment. Hermione pretended not to notice though it was hard to miss the small grin that appeared every time. Finally, she lay down her fork. Every good thing must come to an end, she told herself, especially when making way for more very good things. "I think we should make some decisions," she told her bedmate, keeping her tone casual.

"Oh?"

"Yes. For example, what should I tell my Housemates when they ask where I spent the night? Where should we set my decoy bedroom?"

"Your decoy Bedroom? Hmm, how about the Library? There are plenty of hidden nooks in Hogwarts' Library and it would be Hermione Granger to a T to choose that particular place as her safe haven."

Hermione nodded. "We'll need to set a Floo connection between there and here." She thought for a moment. "Are there times when I should not come?"

"So you intend to return."

"Of course I am."

"No. I don't entertain guests here."

"Well then." Hermione grinned. "I'll be back tonight."

Severus looked wary. Checking the time he cursed and got out of bed. "It's after nine." He told her and rushed to his closet to get dressed.

Hermione jumped out of bed as well. She looked at herself and groaned. What was she going to wear? All her clothes were still in her room.

Professor Snape looked at her. He was already halfway dressed in his heavy black clothing and looking very much her professor. "What's the matter? Can't you transfigure your robe into something more sensible?"

"I don't want to alter it." He didn't seem to understand. "You know, I'm not very good at household magics," she hurriedly admitted shamefacedly to her professor so he wouldn't try to get unreasonable.

"Bah!" He turned away from her and grabbed a small bell from his mantelpiece tinkling it savagely.

A moment later Moppy reappeared. "How may Moppy serve the Professor?" he asked, shaking like a leaf.

"By stopping your moping and doing something useful instead. Bring Miss Granger's belongings to me and be quick about it."

"Yes Sir." The elf vanished and was back an instant later with her heavy trunk lifted over its small head. "Moppy brought the Miss' belongings."

"Good. Now be gone. And keep quiet! I don't want to hear tales of Miss Granger's doings spread about the school. Someone's going to be very sorry if they don't. Get dressed," he told Hermione brusquely, and without waiting for a reply went to the fireplace to tinker with the Floo network.

Hermione didn't waste time and got dressed quickly. All her belongings seemed to be in the trunk, an impressive feat for Moppy to manage in so short a time. She was free from the need to go back to her dormitory and face her vengeful roommates, which was a relief.

Folding the robe, she was about to place it in the trunk when she thought better of it. Instead, she went to the bathroom and hung it on one of the hangers. "I'm ready to go," she told the impatient man by the fireplace.

"Good. The place I chose for you is located at the end of the Forgotten and Imaginary Languages Section. It's called the Polyglot's Resort. I've reconnected it to the school's Floo Network. Go ahead."

She entered the fire. "See you tonight," she called and then pronounced her destination. "The Polyglot's Resort!"

As she started spinning, she thought she heard him say, "I suppose."

~*~*~*~

Autho'r Notes: Finally, a new chapter.

Thanks Jade, Beeky63, Angelnomiko, (mekareami)

Megan, sbrande - here it is, the new chapter, finally! The next chapter will not take too long so this is not a one-time thing.

Bella Snape and hermioneandseverusfan - The Gryffindor girls will make an appearance next chapter.

Quarter-Bloooded Witch - "Do your boys hang low?" sounds about right, heh heh.
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Monkey's Business